It makes me think of the story about former noted Chinese Premier Zhou Enlai, supposedly a response to a question by Henry Kissinger. Asked what he thought was the long term impact of the French Revolution, he reputedly replied ‘It’s too early to tell’. This is a story that is so good and so profound that if it is not true, it needs to be.
Yet in fact, it seems he was actually referring to the much more recent French student revolt of 1968. A seemingly profound observation was actually far more prosaic – but wonderful all the same. I love a long-term view and the reality is that the long-term impact of the original French revolution is still reverberating.
At least the costumes in Bridgerton match reality - part of the collection of the Bath Fashion Museum.
Defying realist conventions
I was intrigued by the way the television series Bridgerton cast its characters irrespective of race. The producers decided to be blind to colour and it somehow worked in a very powerful fashion. This is what happens when creativity is let loose in unpredictable ways. It might sometimes miss the mark, whatever the mark is, but it can be very entertaining and make you see matters in new and unusual ways. That’s surely one of the roles of run away creativity.
‘We can’t keep expecting that creative expression will be everything to everyone, with historical accuracy and equal representation of all social groups – it’s not a promotional poster or a policy, that has some claim to accuracy or fair representation.’
The creator of Bridgerton, Shonda Rhimes has been criticised for erasing Britain’s history of racism and rehabilitating Queen Anne – a beneficiary of the Empire and slavery – into a more sympathetic historical figure. That’s a valid point – if you’re commenting on something that purports to be a history. Of course, one risk we can’t avoid is that there will be many people who will take creative work as a history – but they’re probably the same people who think fictional characters are real and used to stalk Shonda Rhimes when they became unhappy about the way she ended the series Grey’s Anatomy.
Bath architecture - the reality behind the fiction of Bridgerton.
Rather than being treated as an unusual attempt to up end the conventions of a popular form of creative expression, a brave try with mixed success, it seems to have led to a whinge fest of commentators complaining about ‘woke’ television, whatever that is. To me the whole 'woke' obsession seems like yet another example of Australians uncritically jumping on an American bandwagon, picking up whacky words and ways with little good reason. The Left are often accused – unfortunately often accurately – of lacking a sense of humour, but if you want to see lack of a sense of humour at full throttle, listen to a Right-wing ideologue endlessly getting into a lather about ‘wokeness’.
Everything to everyone?
We can’t keep expecting that creative expression will be everything to everyone, with historical accuracy and equal representation of all social groups – it’s not a promotional poster or a policy, that has some claim to accuracy or fair representation. In Bridgerton the author is asking us to imagine a parallel universe where the Queen of England could be black – and that’s a powerful proposition, if implausible.
The same sort of charges were levied against The Favourite, a ground-breaking film that stepped outside the fictional documentary form and applied contemporary preoccupations to inform historical moments and figures.
Similarly another recent work, a film based on a book, The Tattooist of Auschwitz, has been criticised for not sticking to the facts, even down to the absurd complaint that the writers have given one character a different tattoo number to that of the person the book was based on. I admire these guardians of historical truth immensely – their work is brilliant and someone like Simon Wiesenthal, who established the Jewish Documentation Centre, later the Simon Wiesenthal Centre, is a youthful hero of mine – but in this case I’d have to rephrase that supremely insightful comment ‘to a man with a hammer, everything looks like a nail’, as ‘to someone with an archive, everything looks like a record’.
‘Asked what he thought was the long term impact of the French Revolution, Zhou reputedly replied “It’s too early to tell”. This is a story that is so good and so useful that if it is not true, it needs to be.’
When I watched Bridgerton it made me think of the way in which Shakespeare defied realist conventions by including clocks in his Roman plays. In a 2016 article on the British Library website, author, journalist and critic Andrew Dickson notes that ‘Shakespeare is often accused of playing fast and loose with reality in his depictions of Roman life – during the anxious meeting of the conspirators early in Act 2 of Julius Caesar the stage directions call for a clock to strike 3 am (the technology would not become available for hundreds of years), and his Romans have been accused of being merely “Elizabethans in togas”, to borrow a much-recycled phrase.’ The website ‘No Sweat Shakespeare’, which interprets and contextualises Shakespeare’s plays for a popular audience, comments that ‘Usually, costume wasn’t an important issue: the characters came on dressed in contemporary clothes, for the most part’).
A while back I was astounded to see a film interpretation of a famous play – by Shakespeare, no less – do exactly the same thing as Bridgerton. Joel Coen’s take on The Tragedy of Macbeth was a black and white masterpiece full of black and white faces. Denzel Washington as Macbeth was something to behold and Frances McDormand as Lady Macbeth combined as a deadly and ambitious power couple after the top job.
History confounds us
In fact history has a way of confounding us anyway. At the time the massive flagship of Henry VIII, the Mary Rose, capsized in the waters of the Solent, it seems Africans were already appearing in Britain. To turn to the Romans again, it seems clear that their legions were made up of soldiers from the length and breadth of their vast empire, and ancient trade routes show that interchange and contact stretched far further than we ever imagined. Our distant ancestors were just as smart as us and roamed just as far.
It’s easy to forget the actual reality of creative work and read far too much into works of art. The runaway success of ‘Scandi noir’ and the sheer volume of writers producing the various versions of it is often seen as evidence of a hidden dark side of the Scandinavian character – unlike the people of every other nation. I doubt that. Its much more likely to be a chance occurrence that a few writers chose to focus on this aspect that is present in every society, it was a massive success and others followeduntil you couldn’t find anything in popular culture that was ‘Scandi’, without it also being ‘noir’. It’s hardly large enough to be a statistically representative sample. A few creative individuals in a particular place at a particular time can make a noticeable difference to how we perceive a people or a society or an era.
‘We talk about a place being at the end of the Earth or the middle of nowhere, but if you are there, you might consider you are at the centre of the universe, not the edge.’
In a similar way I remember one commentator noting that Picasso’s ‘blue’ period was not due to an emotional or philosophical phase he was passing through, but simply that paint was expensive for a badly-paid artist and he happened to have a surfeit of blue paint. Whether true or not, it’s an interesting approach to understanding aspects of art.
I distinctly remember seeing a discussion in one of the endless Rick Stein series I love to watch repeatedly, about how one of the painters from the distinguished Newlyn School in Cornwall – Stanhope Forbes, if I remember correctly – famously painted an anchor and anvil in his studio rather than in the smithy. This division between the ‘real’ and the ‘staged’ is one that the digital world has further eroded and dissolved.
From the end of the Earth to the middle of nowhere
We talk about a place being at the end of the Earth or the middle of nowhere, but if you are actually in that place, you might consider you are at the centre of the universe, not on the edge of it. Some years ago I came face to face with this fuzzy line between truth and fiction. I realised the sheer silliness of the artifical and bureaucratic division of Australia as a result of European colonisation. Ngaanyatjarra country sat astride Western Australia, South Australia and the Northern Territory, with its centre somewhere and nowhere in the middle of all of them – it positively laughed at state and territory borders. It was a marvellous example of reality refusing to be codified.
‘We talk about a place being at the end of the Earth or the middle of nowhere, but if you are actually in that place, you might consider you are at the centre of the universe, not on the edge of it.’
Some people watch films continually looking for lapses in continuity or moments taken out of context. The trap of the literal mind does that to you. ‘Based on a true story’ is used repeatedly to promote a production, yet does it really matter? Perhaps a story that is not ‘based on a true story’ is truer because it can be a story that while not true, potentially should be.
Perhaps we should leave the last word to Verdi, ‘it may be a good thing to copy reality; but to invent reality is much, much better.’
© Stephen Cassidy 2024
See also
Dawn service – revisiting a long and personal story
‘Waking before dawn on ANZAC Day I suddenly thought I’d take part in my own one-person Dawn Service by thinking quietly about those in my own extended family who had been to war. That’s my five uncles all of whom fought in World War 2 – and survived – with a sense of humour and a string of medals. It’s also my family-in-law – my father-in-law and mother-in-law who were both conscripted into the German Army. My father-in-law once said to me ‘I’d had enough of armies’. My under-age father tried in vain to join up to be with the brothers he adored, but his father refused to sign the necessary papers – luckily, otherwise I might not be here, part of a later generation, remembering them all with great sadness’, Dawn service – revisiting a long and personal story.
‘Waking before dawn on ANZAC Day I suddenly thought I’d take part in my own one-person Dawn Service by thinking quietly about those in my own extended family who had been to war. That’s my five uncles all of whom fought in World War 2 – and survived – with a sense of humour and a string of medals. It’s also my family-in-law – my father-in-law and mother-in-law who were both conscripted into the German Army. My father-in-law once said to me ‘I’d had enough of armies’. My under-age father tried in vain to join up to be with the brothers he adored, but his father refused to sign the necessary papers – luckily, otherwise I might not be here, part of a later generation, remembering them all with great sadness’, Dawn service – revisiting a long and personal story.
Returning to reading – finding the best of all possible worlds
‘It’s a strange time we live in – but then, has any time not been a strange time. I often think that there is no way on Earth that I would ever want to live in an earlier era, before medicine was so developed, when the average life expectancy was in the mid thirties, when life for most people was a short spell of drudgery punctuated by poverty and fear. I’m making the most of it. Lately I’ve started to balance my fascination with the easy-earned opinion of the online universe with a return to reading writing, as distinct from glancing at jotting’, Returning to reading – finding the best of all possible worlds.
‘It’s a strange time we live in – but then, has any time not been a strange time. I often think that there is no way on Earth that I would ever want to live in an earlier era, before medicine was so developed, when the average life expectancy was in the mid thirties, when life for most people was a short spell of drudgery punctuated by poverty and fear. I’m making the most of it. Lately I’ve started to balance my fascination with the easy-earned opinion of the online universe with a return to reading writing, as distinct from glancing at jotting’, Returning to reading – finding the best of all possible worlds.
Literature and languages – inaugural Indigenous literary festival sign of things to come
‘The inaugural Victorian Indigenous literary festival Blak & Bright in February 2016 was a a very important event for Australian cultural life. It aimed to promote and celebrate a diversity of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander voices. It raised important questions about how the movement to revive and maintain Indigenous languages – surely one of the great positive unsung community movements in Australian history – is related to ‘Australian literature’. Australian culture as a whole is also inconceivable without the central role of Indigenous culture – how would Australian literature look seen in the same light?’, Literature and languages – inaugural Indigenous literary festival sign of things to come.
The language of success – recognising a great unsung community movement
‘What is especially significant about the Prime Minister, in his Closing the Gap address, recognising the importance of Indigenous languages is that this is the first time a Liberal leader has expressed such views. It’s exciting because for progress to be made it is essential that there is a jointly agreed position. This moment arises from the tireless work over many decades of hundreds of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander language revivalists – surely one of the great positive unsung community movements in Australian history. By their hard work they have managed to change the profile of Indigenous languages in Australia. Unfortunately the address reinforced the tendency of government to overlook the success stories that are already happening in local communities and look for big institutional solutions. I hope it doesn’t turn out to be a missed opportunity’, The language of success – recognising a great unsung community movement.The immense potential of creative industries for regional revival
‘Across Australia, local communities facing major economic and social challenges have become interested in the joint potential of regional arts and local creative industries to contribute to or often lead regional revival. This has paralleled the increasing importance of our major cities as economic hubs and centres of innovation’, The immense potential of creative industries for regional revival.
‘Across Australia, local communities facing major economic and social challenges have become interested in the joint potential of regional arts and local creative industries to contribute to or often lead regional revival. This has paralleled the increasing importance of our major cities as economic hubs and centres of innovation’, The immense potential of creative industries for regional revival.
The whole picture – an arts and cultural policy for everyone and everything
‘After a hiatus of ten long years Australia finally has a new national cultural policy that maps out what the current Albanese Government plans to do in support of Australian culture and creativity. At first glance the new policy appears to be an arts policy, rather than a broader cultural policy, but on closer scrutiny it is connected to far wider initiatives. Part of a series of three articles that consider different aspects of the cultural policy, this second one is about the connection between the policy and broader social and economic features, such as the cultural economy and First Nations economic development. The first one looks at the policy generally and outlines some of the major components it will deliver. The third article looks at the boost to the national collecting institutions which collect and safeguard Australia's cultural heritage,’ The whole picture – an arts and cultural policy for everyone and everything.
Standing out in the crowd – a regional road tour of arts and culture
‘A recent regional road tour through Victoria to South Australia showed how a focus on arts and culture is a pointer for how regional centres can take a path other than slow decline. It also showed how a small country on the edges of the mainstream can become a global design force by staying true to its language, locality and culture – the things that make it distinctive in a crowded, noisy marketplace dominated by big, cashed up players’, Standing out in the crowd – a regional road tour of arts and culture.
The island to the North series
Celebrating the ties between large and small islands, my original island home and the vast Pacific Ocean that laps and links them.
The island to the North – a nearby foreign country
‘Sitting by a roaring fire in a wintry pub in Tarraleah I found Tasmanians liked to call Australia “the island to the North”. We are neighbours but sometimes I wonder if I am behind enemy lines’, The island to the North – a nearby foreign country.
‘Islands are easily overlooked – Tasmania is an island that periodically disappears off maps, sometimes there, sometimes not, at the edge of consciousness, at the end of space’, The island to the North – disappearing worlds.
The island to the North – turning the map upside down
‘Our geography teacher taught us about the Australian fear of the Yellow Peril, ready to pour down from Asia and inundate the almost empty island to the South’, The island to the North – turning the map upside down.
The island to the North – the islands to the North East
‘The awkward relationship between Tasmania and the island to the North is not the only clumsy relationship between islands in this part of the world. The history of the ties between the island to the North and the islands of the Pacific is even more troubled.’ The island to the North – the islands to the North East.
‘The awkward relationship between Tasmania and the island to the North is not the only clumsy relationship between islands in this part of the world. The history of the ties between the island to the North and the islands of the Pacific is even more troubled.’ The island to the North – the islands to the North East.
‘When Australia finally ceased to be a rabble of competing colonies and instead became a nation comprising a rabble of competing states and territories, it still seemed possible that New Zealand might join the new Federation. Both New Zealand and Tasmania have long been an afterthought for the island to the North. But lots of mountains, clean water, high quality untainted produce, dramatic landscapes and acres of ocean all mark Tasmania as suitable for New Zealandership. It’s a partnership waiting to happen. It’s clear that the future for Tasmania lies with New Zealand, the islands to the East rather than the island to the North. In a form of Federation in reverse, Tasmania should join its neighbouring islands to make New Zealand three islands instead of two – the North Island, the South Island and the West Island. New Tazealand forever’, The island to the North – rearranging the deckchairs on the Titanic.
Changing the landscape of the future – a new focus on cultural rights
‘The arts and culture sector has spent far too many years pressing the case for why Australian culture is crucial to Australia’s future, without seeming to shift the public policy landscape to any great degree. Perhaps a proposed fresh approach focusing on cultural rights may offer some hope of a breakthrough. What makes this approach so important and so potentially productive is that it starts with broad principles, linked to fundamental issues, such as human rights, which makes it a perfect foundation for the development of sound and well-thought out policies – something that currently we sadly lack’, Changing the landscape of the future – a new focus on cultural rights.
What is art good for? Understanding the value of our arts and culture
‘With arts and cultural support increasingly under pressure, arts and cultural organisations and artists are trying to find ways in their own localities to respond and to help build a popular understanding of the broader social and economic benefits of arts and culture. Much work has been done in Australia and internationally to understand, assess and communicate the broad value of arts and culture. The challenge is to share and to apply what already exists – and to take it further’, What is art good for? Understanding the value of our arts and culture.
‘The arts and culture sector has spent far too many years pressing the case for why Australian culture is crucial to Australia’s future, without seeming to shift the public policy landscape to any great degree. Perhaps a proposed fresh approach focusing on cultural rights may offer some hope of a breakthrough. What makes this approach so important and so potentially productive is that it starts with broad principles, linked to fundamental issues, such as human rights, which makes it a perfect foundation for the development of sound and well-thought out policies – something that currently we sadly lack’, Changing the landscape of the future – a new focus on cultural rights.
What is art good for? Understanding the value of our arts and culture
‘With arts and cultural support increasingly under pressure, arts and cultural organisations and artists are trying to find ways in their own localities to respond and to help build a popular understanding of the broader social and economic benefits of arts and culture. Much work has been done in Australia and internationally to understand, assess and communicate the broad value of arts and culture. The challenge is to share and to apply what already exists – and to take it further’, What is art good for? Understanding the value of our arts and culture.
Contemporary Indigenous fashion – where community culture and economics meet
‘The recent exhibition 'Piinpi', about contemporary Indigenous fashion, has a significance for Australian culture that is yet to be fully revealed. The themes covered by the exhibition are important because they demonstrate the intersection of the culture of First Nations communities with creative industries and the cultural economy. In attempting to address the major issue of Indigenous disadvantage, for example, it is critical to recognise that one of the most important economic resources possessed by First Nations communities is their culture. Through the intellectual property that translates it into a form that can generate income in a contemporary economy, that culture is pivotal to jobs and to income. It may not be mining but it mines a far richer seam – authentic and rich content that has already been recognised internationally for its high value, just like our iron and coal. At a time when First Nations communities are talking increasingly about gaining greater control over their economic life, this is highly relevant’, Contemporary Indigenous fashion – where community culture and economics meet.
‘I’ve travelled around much of Australia, by foot, by plane, by train and by bus, but mostly by car. As I travelled across all those kilometres and many decades, I never realised that, without ever knowing, I would be silently crossing from one country into another, while underneath the surface of the landscape flashing past, languages were changing like the colour and shape of the grasses or the trees. The parallel universe of Indigenous languages is unfortunately an unexpected world little-known to most Australians.’ The hidden universe of Australia's own languages.
Saving the farm – recognising Indigenous languages part of salvaging community
‘The end of the year – after a bumper 24 months of disasters – is a time of closure. Many things have changed and many more will change – hopefully mainly for the better. In particular people who have made major contributions to Australia creativity and culture are moving on from their roles to take up new interests or interests they have been too busy to pursue. This is particularly the case in the arena of First Nations languages, where the recognition amongst Australians generally of the importance of languages and culture is part and parcel of salvaging community – for everyone’, Saving the farm – recognising Indigenous languages part of salvaging community.
‘The end of the year – after a bumper 24 months of disasters – is a time of closure. Many things have changed and many more will change – hopefully mainly for the better. In particular people who have made major contributions to Australia creativity and culture are moving on from their roles to take up new interests or interests they have been too busy to pursue. This is particularly the case in the arena of First Nations languages, where the recognition amongst Australians generally of the importance of languages and culture is part and parcel of salvaging community – for everyone’, Saving the farm – recognising Indigenous languages part of salvaging community.
Always was, always will be – a welcome long view in NAIDOC week
‘Being involved with Australian culture means being involved in one way or another with First Nations arts, culture and languages – it’s such a central and dynamic part of the cultural landscape. First Nations culture has significance for First Nations communities, but it also has powerful implications for Australian culture generally. NAIDOC Week is a central part of that cultural landscape’, Always was, always will be – a welcome long view in NAIDOC week.
‘Being involved with Australian culture means being involved in one way or another with First Nations arts, culture and languages – it’s such a central and dynamic part of the cultural landscape. First Nations culture has significance for First Nations communities, but it also has powerful implications for Australian culture generally. NAIDOC Week is a central part of that cultural landscape’, Always was, always will be – a welcome long view in NAIDOC week.
The Magna Carta – still a work in progress
‘You don’t have to be part of ‘Indigenous affairs’ in Australia to find yourself involved. You can’t even begin to think of being part of support for Australian arts and culture without encountering and interacting with Indigenous culture and the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities and individuals who make it and live it.’ The Magna Carta – still a work in progress.The hidden universe of Australia's own languages
‘I’ve travelled around much of Australia, by foot, by plane, by train and by bus, but mostly by car. As I travelled across all those kilometres and many decades, I never realised that, without ever knowing, I would be silently crossing from one country into another, while underneath the surface of the landscape flashing past, languages were changing like the colour and shape of the grasses or the trees. The parallel universe of Indigenous languages is unfortunately an unexpected world little-known to most Australians.’ The hidden universe of Australia's own languages.
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