“My family were working-class,” he says. “My mom worked in a cheese factory, my dad worked in a slaughterhouse, my grandma worked in a clothes factory, and my granddad worked in a biscuit factory. So we always had biscuits and cheese and underpants.”
Documentary filmmaker, and Dom-Post movie reviewer, Graeme Tuckett kindly gave me permission to post this lovely appreciation of Barry Barclay:
Its been a couple of days now since the phone rang, and I heard from his sister Pauline that Barry Barclay had died. Barry was — and remains — an absolute giant in New Zealand and the World’s film communities. He is widely and famously regarded as the first member of an Indigenous nation to direct a feature film, and often held up in New Zealand as being possibly our greatest and most influential documentary maker. But I think its important to remember now that Barry’s more celebrated achievements -Ngati, The Tangata Whenua series, The Feathers of Peace- were founded on the back of a long and compassionate journey of discovery of self, of others and a rigorous, vigorous, disarmingly playful and punishingly sharp mind. “Barry is a thinker” was one deceptively obvious little nugget that cropped up during an interview in Auckland a few months ago. Obvious on the face of it; but how many people can we really apply the epithet to? Barry was capable — and though he would never mention it, he had both the training and the firepower- of great and original philosophical thought. Get yourself a copy of Mana Tuturu- I’m sure Unity books will have them in a window display by now, even if Whitcoulls can not bring themselves to stock it — and read the opening chapters. Marvel and laugh as Barry affectionately and accurately accuses Captain Cook of ‘home invasion’- and then goes on to convincingly and elegantly prove beyond any talkback hosts wildest polemic exactly why ‘country’ and ‘nation’ are two very different concepts. All of that in the opening pages, and there’s still 300 to go…Enjoy. Or make the pilgrimage to the film archive’s basement, and treat yourself to a viewing of Barry’s early and wildly experimental doco’s Ashes, Autumn Fires, or The Town That Lost a Miracle. They are still head and shoulders above most of the publically funded obviousness that gets passed off as documentary today, and so far beyond the grasp of anything our current crop of ‘providers and funders’ would ever contemplate as to beggar belief. Not just records of another time; these films roll out like broadcasts from another planet: A place where ‘pitching contests’ and ‘expected outcomes’ would be classed as criminal activities. Barry made films from the position that the filmmaker was absolute; that everything was in the service of the film, and that the film (and its makers) served only truth. His approach to documentary especially was completely uncompromising, but somehow still malleable, adaptable, chaotic, and funny as all hell. His shoots were characterised by great humour and a constant sense of winging it with the best of them- but the results were searingly intelligent, provocative, idiosyncratic and timeless. I never actually heard Bazz say ‘Damn the Torpedoes’ — though I know he loved the sentiment — but I certainly heard him mutter ‘bugger the producer/broadcaster/funder a few times.
In his last couple of years, Bazz was hitting his straps with a gentle fury that probably looked like fun to the uninitiated. He was mightily enthused by the possibilities of cheap digital cameras and editing systems, and by the knowledge that soon the filmmakers would have everything they needed to make a feature or a documentary right in their own — or their communities- hands. He had a dream of a camera, an edit suite, and a broadband connection available to every marae, and a central server- administered from the NZ Film Archive- that could collate and store every second of footage that came down the pipe. I don’t doubt for a moment that, granted another year or two of life, Bazz would have made it happen. Will one of us pick up that load now?
Over the last few days- and I guess a few more times in the days ahead, you’ll hear and read a bunch of tributes that will invariably begin ‘Barry Barclay, the director of the film Ngati…” Well yes, Ngati is a staggering and gorgeous achievement (Hell, Bazz dieing might even spur the NZFC into finally making it available on DVD…) But right now, maybe its time to acknowledge some of the man’s work that might be about to vanish into the basements and memories of the many of us that he made friends of. I was a barman when I first met him, I saw the tail end of the deluge, and I’ve heard something of the damage and grief that a man of Bazz’s size can cause when he’s blundering in the fog. But for me its the jokes, the games of chess, the (ginger) beers, the sly charm, the righteous anger and the perfectly uncontradicted Marxism and spirituality that seemed to me to inform every word he spoke and frame he composed. They say ‑well, someone does- that the best way to mourn a man is to carry on his work. It’ll take all of us and then some to do a half of what Bazz might have done. But that’s no reason not to try.
Tama Poata, John O’Shea, Wi Kuki Kaa, Michael King and now Barry. There is a clearing where a forest once stood.
Graeme has just completed a documentary about Barry for Maori TV.
A month ago I announced to an un-expectant world my intention to watch every moment from the Star Trek canon in chronological order of story before J. J. Abrams new Star Trek XI prequel comes out at Christmas. One commenter pointed out that this would involve a great deal of television watching, arguably more than I had allowed for, but that it was a cool idea.
Four weeks in to the project I can announce that I have ticked off First Contact (and the invention of the warp drive) and all four seasons of “Enterprise”. I have a soft spot for “Enterprise” and I grew to appreciate the wooden performances (Dominic Keating as Lt. Malcolm Reed may well be the worst actor ever to wear Starfleet uniform) and the regular sprinkling of terrible pseudo-technical guff about plasma conduits and EPS relays and the like, not to mention the too-frequent reliance on time travel and parallel universes to get around plot problems.
A couple of genuinely great episodes per season seems to be as much as one can hope for (Similitude in Season 3 is as good anything in the canon) but it was fun watching the writers of Season 4 try and prepare the ground for The Original Series which was about 100 years away in chronology: the lack of cranial ridges on Klingons due to a human DNA cure for a Klingon virus was a particularly big stretch.
With three seasons of TOS, two of the Animated Series, seven each of of TNG, DS9 and Voyager plus all the films I was not expecting to be able to pull this off, until Paramount announced last week that the release of Star Trek XI was being pushed back to May 2009 which gives me a whole five extra months to complete the Marathon.
So, onwards to The Original Series we go. I’m sure that I have already seen all of these during the nearly 36 years since I saw my first but you never know.
For anyone thinking of entering this year’s 48 Hours Furious Filmmaking competition, here’s some inspiration. Three guys spent four days (and awesome amounts of brain skillz) recreating the D‑Day storming of Omaha Beach. Here’s the trailer for the upcoming BBC special Bloody Omaha:[kml_flashembed movie=“http://www.youtube.com/v/WRS9cpOMYv0” width=“425” height=“350” wmode=“transparent” /] [Thanks to Boing Boing Gadgets]
In anticipation of the release at Christmas this year of J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek XI (back to before the beginning with a new cast including Karl Urban and Simon Pegg) and because I really don’t have enough to do (ahem, that would include Downstage, Capital Times, Latin American Film Festival, Wellingtonista, 48HRS, Newtown Athletic and the commencement of a Post Graduate Diploma in Business and Administration at Massey) I hereby embark on my longstanding plan to watch all the Star Trek episodes and movies in chronological order.
And when I say chronological order I mean in story order which, according to this Wikipedia entry, starts with “Enterprise” set in 2151 and ends with Nemesis in 2379. Ever the iconoclast, however, I intend to start tonight with First Contact which, despite featuring the TNG crew of Picard, Data, etc. contains Zefram Cochrane’s first warp flight, thus leading to all the other stories. Then to Season One of “Enterprise” and onward, hopefully arriving at the end before I have to review Star Trek XI this time next year.
I won’t be reviewing every entry because, frankly, who cares?
Wish me luck. Live long and prosper.
Or should I say: Resistance is futile.