January 26th was the day the First Fleet arrived in 1788. For many white Australians and immigrants from some countries who want to bask in the glow of white Australians, this is cause for celebration, because otherwise they wouldn't be here. For many indigenous Australians, it is a painful reminder of a history of death and marginalization that began that day. They call it Invasion Day -- because otherwise those others wouldn't be here.
The awareness of the hurtful associations of the day have grown to the point where this year, I was given the option of taking another day of my choosing as the paid holiday. I took January 26th because it worked best with my family's plans and because I don't really feel like I, as BOTH a white Australian (resident, anyway) AND an immigrant from another country, really have the right to make any sort of gesture of protest on this front.
My gesture of protest, I suppose, is showing some random numbers cruncher out there that I am watching a movie about indigenous Australians on Australian Day.
In fact, this would have been one of my final days to easily watch Charlie's Country, Rolf de Heer's 2013 film, since it's leaving Netflix on January 31st, and I'm not finding it available any other places. It follows Nicolas Roeg's Walkabout (1971) in 2022 and Stephen Johnson's High Ground (2020) in 2023.
The viewing felt even more pregnant with meaning in 2024, since it came approximately three months after the failure of a national referendum regarding indigenous Australians. It was a campaign my wife worked on tirelessly, and even though I can't vote in Australia, I volunteered a few hours on it as well. The idea was largely symbolic. First of all, the idea was to recognize in the constitution that indigenous peoples were the first Australians. Second was to create a group called The Voice, which would be a panel of indigenous Australians who would advise the Australian government on matters relating to indigenous people. The government did not have to heed this advice; it just had to hear it. Well, even that was too much. The Yes position lost to the No position, rather handily, as a bunch of racist Australians all worried this would mean an indigenous person was going to come kick them out of their house. (I'm sure some people felt they had more nuanced and justifiable reasons for voting no, but that's not something I feel like acknowledging today. The truth is, the prime minister may have pushed this referendum through too quickly, with the average Australian not having enough time or benefitting from enough of a public awareness campaign to understand what it would mean for them to vote yes.)
I'm not sure I could have found a movie that more perfectly encapsulated the themes of rage and sorrow associated with Invasion Day than Charlie's Country, especially the year after the failure of this referendum. To boot, it stars indigenous acting treasure David Gulpilil, who we lost in 2021 -- and who actually starred in Walkabout 42 years before this, when he was only a teenager.
Gulpilil plays Charlie, a well-known figure in a Northern Territory community outside Darwin. Charlie is generous with the money he receives through government assistance, leaving quantities of bills in front of certain people who need them, which seems to be such a regular occurrence that they don't even really gesture to thank him for it. He's also a use to the local police, whom he helps track suspects -- though in the one example we see in the movie, it's because he's actually an associate of the low-level drug dealers the police are seeking, so he knows exactly where they went. Charlie and his friend get a laugh out of that one.
No, Charlie isn't a traitor to friends like these drug dealers, because they aren't really his friends. They're just another pair of white people who play nice with Charlie because they want something from him, like the police. Besides, they charged too much for their weed.
It's taken a life's accumulation to get to this point, but in his 50s -- Gulpilil himself was almost 60 when the film was made -- Charlie is feeling the need for a mini rebellion against these whites who have moved into his community, laid claim to Aboriginal land, and trusted that he'd always be a good doggie. There are a couple incidents that have pushed him over the top. For one, the police confiscate the guns he and his friend used to hunt -- Charlie's is an illegally modified shotgun, but either gun comes without a license, and the "friendly" local police see it as an opportunity to remind Charlie who's boss. When Charlie then makes a spear to hunt, they consider that a "dangerous weapon" and take that too.
Things start to escalate from there, but because Charlie's Country exists within the realm of realism, they don't need to spill over into melodrama to put across the point that Charlie has had enough, and that even a mini rebellion is enough to put him in his place for a lot longer than the slap on the wrist he got for the modified shotgun.
One of the things this film tackles is the thing whites brought to Australia beyond the toxic nature of their own presence: alcohol, tobacco and drugs. Alcohol has destroyed the lives of indigenous peoples, both in Australia and elsewhere in the world (like the United States), such that in some parts of Australia, individual indigenous peoples are banned from the purchase of alcohol, while in some whole large regions, specifically in the Northern Territory, it is just not made available for sale at all -- even to tourists. A glass of wine at dinner might be available in certain scenarios, but you can't go to the bottle shop, as they call it here, and buy any, due to the deleterious effects it has had on the whole community. We know this because we visited the NT in 2018 and had an effectively dry holiday. We're going there again in April.
Charlie is actually a bit of a rarity in that he is allowed to buy alcohol, but he is not allowed to share it with others or else he may be subject to a fine or jailing. I'm not really sure how this all works, but the implication is that all indigenous adults start with a clean slate, and then an alcohol-related citation from the police causes you to become banned -- and that most indigenous adults are banned, which is a real commentary on just how pervasive this. Without spoiling the movie, it's around this topic that things really blow up for Charlie eventually.
But then you can't discount the influence of tobacco or drugs either. Although marijuana is the only drug shown here and though it plays a minor role in the proceedings, tobacco has had a major impact on Charlie's life, in that smoking has caused him to have lung issues, possibly even lung cancer, though we aren't sure of the severity of it.
Gulpilil is magnificent here, and as I was watching this movie, I was thinking on the recent deaths of both Gulpilil and Jack Charles (known affectionately as Uncle Jack Charles), and how it has left a void in Australia's indigenous acting icons space. Probably the most recognizable indigenous actor now is Baykali Ganambarr, who starred in Jennifer Kent's The Nightingale, though there are also indigenous actors who are less instantly recognizable as such because they have enough white heritage to blur the tools we use for making such identifications.
In an era of legitimate questions about who is allowed to tell whose story, Rolf de Heer continues to position himself as a credible advocate for indigenous people, who tells their story from as close to their perspective as possible while still being white himself. De Heer has been establishing his bonafides his whole career. In 2002 he directed possibly my favorite film with indigenous subject matter, The Tracker, in which Gulpilil plays the title character. A few years later he made Ten Canoes, which follows indigenous characters living in the traditional ways in the NT. Then in 2022, I only just learned, there was The Survival of Kindness, which also has indigenous subject matter -- and could be a good candidate for an Australia Day viewing next year.
I could probably continue to offer insight on this great movie, but I've been bombarding you with content in my end of year posts, so I just want to finish with one interesting connection that Charlie's Country has to my own life.
Even though Charlie is beloved among his companions and is, generally speaking, accorded a certain respect that other "blackfellas" do not get, we see him longing for his glory days. Specifically, he thinks back to when he danced for the queen at the opening of the Sydney Opera House. And though this does not exactly mirror Gulpilil's personal experience, Gulpilil did dance at the Opera House a year after the opening in 1974.
You may remember, because I've had occasion to talk about it recently, that I was also there on the day the Sydney Opera House was dedicated by the queen, in spirit anyway -- because I was being born that day in Boston.
For a person who doesn't belong in Australia at all, here only by marriage, that made me feel included not only in the way most white Australians feel on Australia Day, but even in the experience of one Black Australian. It's a little something I can say I share with Charlie, and he might even agree.
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