In 1950 A.A.Phillips came up with a famous term: “the Cultural Cringe”. It was an observation of the way Australians responded to the best of international culture – with a mixture of embarrassment, insecurity, and a desire to flee the room. Or perhaps a bold statement that such stuff didn’t matter anyway. There will be plenty of readers who recall the Cultural Cringe, but how many remember its counterpart, the Cultural Strut?
The Strut came about as a reaction to the Cringe. The minute Australia had a famous actor, singer, musician or dancer, we’d instantly begin preening ourselves as world champions. “Our ballerinas are better than yours, you Pommie bastards!”
Has this weird, unpleasant double-edged sword ever been put away? I’m asking because every function I’ve attended recently has featured politicians and celebrities making speeches filled with the most outlandish boasts and claims. Under the Morrison government the arts were treated like some kind of mild rash that was essentially harmless and could be easily controlled. Now it seems like a brash, new self-confidence is sweeping across our institutions.
We have the best museums! The best artists! The best directors! It’s worse than those days when everything was being praised as “world class”. Now we seem to believe we’re setting the pace for the rest of the world to follow. This is, quite simply, ridiculous. Australia’s commitment to art and culture is not a patch on countries such as France and Germany, and that’s just for starters. We have to learn to be part of the world, not hiding away or imagining we are running on ahead.
I have an uncomfortable idea that this self-regarding nonsense is bound up with our newfound commitment to all things Indigenous. Not only does every function now feature the ritual welcome to country, it’s common for every speaker to acknowledge the elders “past, present and emerging” (what does it mean to be an emerging elder??), and often to provide a sanctimonious little – or lengthy – speech, about how wonderful it is to live in peace and harmony with First Nations folks. The overwhelming sense of virtue such performances instill in the speaker is quickly translated into a feeling of moral superiority, that soon turns into the Strut.
I wish some sensible First Nations type might be present for one of these events, and yell: “Enough! Enough! No more bullshit please! Put a sock in it!” Does all this empty speech do any harm? Probably not, although it’s never pretty watching people wallow in their own worthiness. And it’s never sufficient to feel good about oneself when the approval of an audience is on offer. Maybe I should just revert to my old policy of arriving after the speeches.
This newsletter is slightly late because I’ve been in Melbourne and Brisbane, scooting from one thing to another. The art column this week looks at The Picasso Century at the National Gallery of Victoria, a really well-thought-out exhibition on a subject – ie. Picasso – that has been revisited many, many times. The NGV was shrewd in inviting Didier Ottinger, deputy director of the Centre Pompidou, to act as curator for the exhibition. This ensured an original thesis and access to a greater range of work. Give the French an idea and they will respond with generosity and enthusiasm. I’m not sure the same applies to the Brits, but one day I hope to be proved wrong.
The film being reviewed is the wretched dinosaur movie, Jurassic World Dominion. There’s no reason why a formula blockbuster has to be a dud, but I’m afraid this is the case more often than not. In this instance the filmmakers have produced a feature of such extreme implausibility that it’s no more than a way of wasting a couple of hours of one’s life. You can’t even feel virtuous afterwards.