How dull things seem now that we have a sensible government. Rather than spending the week in a lather of outrage, glued to screen waiting for something else to set me off, I now find I can hardly bring myself to watch the news and current affairs. The Morrison era really was a bad dream from which we are gradually awakening. It seems almost impossible to imagine the level of incompetence and corruption we endured, as if it were the normal state of things. One only has to look at the Coalition bench in Opposition to see how devoid of talent they are – and were.
What’s there to talk about? The war in the Ukraine that is now more than 100 days old, and just as awful as ever? The mass shootings in the USA that keep proving the insanity of American politics? The Queen’s latest jubilee? Johnny Depp winning his case against Amber Heard? It’s a bit pathetic to read all these earnest pieces worrying that Depp’s victory will be a massive setback for women in abusive relationships. It was a case of one actor versus another and the jury found Depp had the more convincing performance.
One might speculate that Depp’s career had tanked because of the crap movies he was in, rather than anything Amber Heard wrote about him, but whenever I looked at this trial she never seemed at all sincere. I don’t think the reaction against her was a victory for misogyny, or that we can draw any universal conclusions about men and women from this showbiz circus. Neither actor will find it easy to get back into the movies after their courtroom antics.
Speaking of circuses, I’m obliged to hold the art column again because of Ye Olde space problems with the Saturday supplement. My final word on the Archibald will appear next week, but until then I can only run a review of the new Asghar Farhadi film, A Hero (another cracking set of moral dilemmas from Iran!) and wait for better times. I know this is irritating for a lot of people but I’ve no choice in the matter.
One thing I found impressive last week was the National Gallery of Victoria’s Queer show. Although I’ve always been rather boringly straight, I came away from this exhibition feeling that the NGV had managed to turn the tedious business of identity politics into a really stimulating exhibition. Perhaps the secret of success is to get away from all the talk, all the jargon, all those extra pronouns and initials (LGBTQ……), and just put together a remarkable collection of works. I’ve already written a review, which is – surprise, surprise – sitting on the shelf awaiting its hour in print. It’s always exciting to be surprised and challenged by works of art, and there is nothing duller than art that acts as a mere restatement of identity, an act of ideological affiliation. The strength of the Queer show was its immense variety and a willingness to take chances. It’s hard to sustain much interest in other people’s sexual preferences but there’s an endless fascination in the power of the artist’s imagination.