Fred Schepisi is one of the crucial names associated with the revival of the Australian film industry in the 1970s. The Films of Fred Schepisi traces the lead-up to his critical successes in feature filmmaking, via his earlier award-winning success as a producer in advertising commercials in the 1960s and the setting up of his own company. Unlike some directors, he derived from this experience a sure sense of the commercial aspects of filmmaking, as well as its aesthetic considerations. The volume also considers stories of his early education in a Catholic seminary, which he drew on in his semiautobiographical film, The Devil’s Playground, the success of which launched him as an exciting new feature director. The volume expands on Schepisi’s success story to chart his development as a director in demand in other countries, notably in the US and the UK, as well as continuing to make major films in Australia. Brian McFarlane argues that Schepisi’s career is symptomatic of Australian directors who have made their presences felt on the international stage. Whereas other key directors of the Australian film revival, such as Peter Weir and Bruce Beresford, have been the subject of book-length critical studies, Schepisi’s career has not to-date been so explored. McFarlane takes a critical account of Schepisi’s film output—including such standouts as The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith, Plenty, Roxanne, Six Degrees of Separation, Mr. Baseball, and Last Orders—and he augments analysis with interviews with the director. By discussing the production histories and both critical and popular receptions, McFarlane’s study shines a new light on Schepisi’s work and his rise to prominence in the global film industry.

In the New Yorker, Stephen Schiff has described Fred Schepisi (b. 1939) as “probably the least-known great director working in the mainstream American cinema—a master storyteller with a serenely muscular style that can make more flamboyant moviemakers look coarse and overweening.” Schepisi’s launch in Australia during the country’s film renaissance of the 1970s and his ongoing international work have rightfully earned him a reputation as an actors’ director. But he has also become a skillful stylist, forging his own way as he works alongside a talented team of collaborators. This volume includes twenty interviews with Schepisi and two with longtime collaborators, cinematographer Ian Baker and composer Paul Grabowsky. The interviews trace the filmmaker’s career from his beginnings in advertising, through his two early Australian features—The Devil's Playground and The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith—to his subsequent work in the United States and beyond on films as various as Plenty, Roxanne, A Cry in the Dark, The Russia House, Six Degrees of Separation, Empire Falls, Last Orders, and Eye of the Storm. Schepisi’s films are diverse thematically and visually. In what is effectively a master class on film direction, Schepisi discusses his creative choices and his work with actors and collaborators behind the scenes. In the process, he provides a goldmine of insights into his films, his filmmaking style, and what makes him tick as an artist.

This volume marks the birth centenary of a giant amongst contemporary writers: the Australian Nobel prize-winning novelist, Patrick White (1912–1990). It proffers an invaluable insight into the current state of White studies through commentaries drawn from an international galaxy of eminent critics, as well as from newer talents. The book proves that interest in White’s work continues to grow and diversify. Every essay offers a new insight: some are re-evaluations by seasoned critics who revise earlier positions significantly; others admit new light onto what has seemed like well-trodden terrain or focus on works perhaps undervalued in the past—his poetry, an early short story or novel—which are now subjected to fresh attention. His posthumous work has also won attention from prominent critics. New comparisons with other international writers have been drawn in terms of subject matter, themes and philosophy. The expansion of critical attention into fields like photography and film opens new possibilities for enhancing further appreciation of his work. White’s interest in public issues such as the treatment of Australia’s Indigenous peoples, human rights and Australian nationalism is refracted through the inclusion of relevant commentaries from notable contributors. For the first time in Australian literary history, Indigenous scholars have participated in a celebration of the work of a white Australian writer. All of this highlights a new direction in White studies—the appreciation of his stature as a public intellectual. The book demonstrates that White’s legacy has limitless possibilities for further growth.

This collection of essays on Graham Swift’s fiction brings together the perspectives of renowned Swift scholars from around the world. Authors look at the swift’s oeuvre from different interpretative angles, combining a variety of critical and theoretical approaches. This book covers all of Swift’s fiction, including his novels and short stories; special emphasis, however, is on his most recent books. By approaching Swift’s work from a number of perspectives, the volume offers a synthetic overview of his literary output. In particular, it searches for thematic and formal continuities between his early and more recent fiction, and attempts to emphasize its new developments and interests.

For more than a century, original music has been composed for the cinema. From the early days when live music accompanied silent films to the present in which a composer can draw upon a full orchestra or a lone synthesizer to embody a composition, music has been an integral element of most films. By the late 1930s, movie studios had established music departments, and some of the greatest names in film music emerged during Hollywood’s Golden Age, including Alfred Newman, Max Steiner, Dimitri Tiomkin, and Bernard Herrmann. Over the decades, other creators of screen music offered additional memorable scores, and some composers—such as Henry Mancini, Randy Newman, and John Williams—have become household names. The Encyclopedia of Film Composers features entries on more than 250 movie composers from around the world. It not only provides facts about these artists but also explains what makes each composer notable and discusses his or her music in detail. Each entry includes Biographical material Important dates Career highlights Analysis of the composer’s musical style Complete list of movie credits This book brings recognition to the many men and women who have written music for movies over the past one hundred years. In addition to composers from the United States and Great Britain, artists from dozens of other countries are also represented. A rich resource of movie music history, The Encyclopedia of Film Composers will be of interest to fans of cinema in general as well as those who want to learn more about the many talented individuals who have created memorable scores.

Movies are often examined for subtext and dramatizations of social and psychological issues, as well as current movements. Studies of well-known Catholic directors, such as Alfred Hitchcock and John Ford, have made the search for Catholic themes a reputable field of examination. Through a Catholic Lens continues the search for these themes and examines the Catholic undercurrents by studying nineteen film directors from around the world. Although these directors may or may not be practicing Catholics, their Catholic background can be found in their writing and directing. Each chapter, written by a different contributor, analyzes one film of each director for its Catholic motifs. With the recent increase of cinema studies, this collection will be of interest to students and academics, as well as cinema buffs. Book jacket.

The mythologising of lost and abandoned children significantly influences Australian storytelling. In The Lost Child Complex in Australian Film, Terrie Waddell looks at the concept of the ‘lost child’ from a psychological and cultural perspective. Taking an interdisciplinary Jungian approach, she re-evaluates this cyclic storytelling motif in history, literature, and the creative arts, as the nucleus of a cultural complex – a group obsession that as Jung argued of all complexes, has us. Waddell explores ‘the lost child’ in its many manifestations, as an element of the individual and collective psyche, historically related to the trauma of colonisation and war, and as key theme in Australian cinema from the industry’s formative years to the present day. The films discussed in textual depth transcend literal lost in the bush mythologies, or actual cases of displaced children, to focus on vulnerable children rendered lost through government and institutional practices, and adult/parental characters developmentally arrested by comforting or traumatic childhood memories. The victory/winning fixation governing the USA – diametrically opposed to the lost child motif – is also discussed as a comparative example of the mesmerising nature of the cultural complex. Examining iconic characters and events, such as the Gallipoli Campaign and Trump’s presidency, and films such as The Babadook, Lion, and Predestination, this book scrutinises the way in which a culture talks to itself, about itself. This analysis looks beyond the melancholy traditionally ascribed to the lost child, by arguing that the repetitive and prolific imagery that this theme stimulates, can be positive and inspiring. The Lost Child Complex in Australian Film is a unique and compelling work which will be highly relevant for academics and students of Jungian and post-Jungian ideas, cultural studies, screen and media studies. It will also appeal to Jungian psychotherapists and analytical psychologists as well as readers with a broader interest in Australian history and politics.