Michael Fuery's Blog
February 13, 2016
St Valentine's Day, a picnic and a time to ponder the infinite
While recently reading physicist Max Tegmark’s, ‘Our Mathematical Universe’, in which he details the journey of scientific thought and discovery, my attention was abruptly halted during his discussion of multiverses.
In this strange realm of other-universes-outside-our-own predicted from cosmological theories, he explains it is possible that everything that can happen in them does happen.
The notion triggered for me the memory of a similar phrase: “Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place.” Those cryptic words heralded a horror that was to rapidly unfold in Joan Lindsay’s classic 1967 novel, ‘Picnic at Hanging Rock’.
A story revolving around the disappearance of three students and a teacher at a St Valentine's Day picnic seems an unlikely premise to evoke a sense of fear, at least against contemporary expectations. However, this point in its plot was amplified by being utterly devoid of explanation.
Following the adaptation of the story to a film in 1975 directed by Peter Weir, a public desperate for certainty frenetically constructed ideas borrowed from popular fiction, such as alien abductions and criminal conspiracies to explain the disappearance.
How else would such an event ever take place based on our experience of the physical world?
Lindsay herself gave us some clues.
Firstly, she was averse to time-keeping, having no clocks or timepieces in her life.
Secondly, the timepieces carried by those on the excursion in her story stopped when they arrived at Hanging Rock.
Thirdly, she alluded to the students who had climbed the Rock hearing noise "like the sound of far-off beating drums” which were subsequently used in the search for them. But these were heard before they went missing.
Lastly, she believed that the past, present and future were all around us simultaneously and advocated for an ‘all-at-once-ness’.
Above the public clamour came the wise voice of broadcaster and personal friend of Lindsay, Phillip Adams, who calmly stated that 'Picnic at Hanging Rock' was ’a piece of horse-drawn science fiction’.
And indeed it was.
Given the absence of a Tardis or a souped-up DeLorean, one is left to conclude that a hitherto, unknown foible of nature was finding expression in the setting of a Victorian-era, private school in a remote bushland setting.
Perhaps Lindsay's beliefs may have been considered eccentric in 1967 but today they seem very much at home within the ideas being considered by top scientific thinkers such as Tegmark. Multiverses, he adds, may even have different laws of physics to our own.
The gaping chasm of uncertainty depicted in 'Picnic at Hanging Rock’ has ensured that Lindsay’s well-loved story continues to exert a tantalising gravity on subsequent generations.
Like any good mythology, it stokes the fires of our imaginations and beckons to be retold. Forty-nine years after her novel was first released, Melbourne’s Malthouse Theatre will present yet another unique production adapted by Tom Wright from February 26.
As those-who-love or those-in-love celebrate St Valentine's Day this year, two days after the confirmation of the existence of gravitational waves, perhaps they might find time to see their ignited passions swirling within the romance of a seemingly endless cosmos, and to ponder what other surprises of our existence the universe has yet to reveal.
In this strange realm of other-universes-outside-our-own predicted from cosmological theories, he explains it is possible that everything that can happen in them does happen.
The notion triggered for me the memory of a similar phrase: “Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place.” Those cryptic words heralded a horror that was to rapidly unfold in Joan Lindsay’s classic 1967 novel, ‘Picnic at Hanging Rock’.
A story revolving around the disappearance of three students and a teacher at a St Valentine's Day picnic seems an unlikely premise to evoke a sense of fear, at least against contemporary expectations. However, this point in its plot was amplified by being utterly devoid of explanation.
Following the adaptation of the story to a film in 1975 directed by Peter Weir, a public desperate for certainty frenetically constructed ideas borrowed from popular fiction, such as alien abductions and criminal conspiracies to explain the disappearance.
How else would such an event ever take place based on our experience of the physical world?
Lindsay herself gave us some clues.
Firstly, she was averse to time-keeping, having no clocks or timepieces in her life.
Secondly, the timepieces carried by those on the excursion in her story stopped when they arrived at Hanging Rock.
Thirdly, she alluded to the students who had climbed the Rock hearing noise "like the sound of far-off beating drums” which were subsequently used in the search for them. But these were heard before they went missing.
Lastly, she believed that the past, present and future were all around us simultaneously and advocated for an ‘all-at-once-ness’.
Above the public clamour came the wise voice of broadcaster and personal friend of Lindsay, Phillip Adams, who calmly stated that 'Picnic at Hanging Rock' was ’a piece of horse-drawn science fiction’.
And indeed it was.
Given the absence of a Tardis or a souped-up DeLorean, one is left to conclude that a hitherto, unknown foible of nature was finding expression in the setting of a Victorian-era, private school in a remote bushland setting.
Perhaps Lindsay's beliefs may have been considered eccentric in 1967 but today they seem very much at home within the ideas being considered by top scientific thinkers such as Tegmark. Multiverses, he adds, may even have different laws of physics to our own.
The gaping chasm of uncertainty depicted in 'Picnic at Hanging Rock’ has ensured that Lindsay’s well-loved story continues to exert a tantalising gravity on subsequent generations.
Like any good mythology, it stokes the fires of our imaginations and beckons to be retold. Forty-nine years after her novel was first released, Melbourne’s Malthouse Theatre will present yet another unique production adapted by Tom Wright from February 26.
As those-who-love or those-in-love celebrate St Valentine's Day this year, two days after the confirmation of the existence of gravitational waves, perhaps they might find time to see their ignited passions swirling within the romance of a seemingly endless cosmos, and to ponder what other surprises of our existence the universe has yet to reveal.
February 13, 2014
Ripples Across Time and Place: Joan Lindsay’s St Valentine’s Day Legacy
Since publication of ‘Picnic at Hanging Rock’ in 1967, the haunting story by author Joan Lindsay (1896-1984) surrounding the disappearance of three students and a teacher on St. Valentine's Day 1900, has travelled to the most unlikely places, been recognised by millions and captured the imaginations of successive generations.
Had it not been for the perchance discovery of the novel in a Sydney newsagency in 1971[1] by producer Patricia Lovell (1929-2013), the world may not have come to know the 1975 film adaptation by screenwriter Cliff Green for which she would be responsible.
While the motion picture has been regarded by some commentators as ‘the final word’, independent adaptations for stage have also emerged, with an intriguing number originating in the northern hemisphere.
Los Angeles-based playwright and mythologist, Dr. Laura Shamas, wrote her adaptation [2] in 1987, which has seen numerous productions around the US since.
What attracted her to the story? “I was commissioned to adapt the novel…I love big, epic plays; I felt that…Lindsay’s novel was sweeping in scope and timeless in its appeal.
“I could really see it in stage pictures as I read it, and I tried to create a mix of large cast scenes and one-on-one scenes throughout for a good dramatic mix,” she revealed.
“I also loved so many facets of the novel: the connection we have to each other ‘in our dreams,’ the exploration of nature, the interruption of rituals, unresolved mysteries in life, and what happens to a community in crisis.”
A more recent adaptation by theatre writer and composer, Daniel Zaitchik [3], also based in Los Angeles, will have its debut production in late February at Utah’s Weber State University.
“Around the time I discovered Picnic I had put together an all-female choir in New York City. I had a feeling Picnic would be good material for my current musical interests. The stage seemed like the perfect place for it,” he said.
How did he become interested in the story? “When I was a child I saw about ten minutes of the film on television. I still have no idea why, after twenty years, a few minutes of the film would come back to me in a dream, and that it would lead me to [what would be] one of my favourite books.
“The themes Lindsay deals with are so large and ageless. So I think, just like the ancient myths that have stood the test of time, Picnic is an enduring classic.”
Perhaps these are some of the ripples to which Lindsay prophetically alluded in a 1974 interview she gave for the then Arts Australia Council:
"...it was like dropping a stone into the water...I felt that...the thing that happened on St Valentine's Day went on spreading, out and out and out in circles, from that first thing that happened.”[4]
Despite impressing dark undertones into her St Valentine’s Day tale, her personal affection for the day ran deeply along traditional lines.
According to veteran broadcaster and her long-time friend, Phillip Adams, it was “Joan’s magic day”[5]; one on which she first met Daryl Lindsay, whom she would later marry in London on the same date in 1922. Lindsay’s autobiography, ‘Time Without Clocks,’ reveals that their married life was characterised by an abiding love, art, adventurousness and a sense of fun.
Soon after moving in to their new home, Mulberry Hill at Langwarrin South on Victoria's Mornington Peninsula, they were given a broken sundial by a relative. “The plate had worked loose on the pedestal and could be spun round like a roulette wheel. It was exactly the right kind of sundial for Mulberry Hill and we found it strangely satisfying to establish our own points of the compass and our own private time.”[6]
Lindsay believed that the past, present and future co-existed and were “all around one.”[7] An elegant notion that today appears more aligned to cosmological theory, it revealed a mind liberated from strongly held axioms of her day and the key to understanding her well-crafted enigma.
Perhaps this is epitomised in the words she gave her story's ethereal character, Miranda: “Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place."[8]
Joan Lindsay left us a unique, home-grown story which continues to entrance people worldwide. For many who visit Hanging Rock, near Woodend in Victoria, theirs’ is a pilgrimage of sorts, where a private fascination for the unknown finds solace, attesting to the story’s ascension into the realm of mythology.
Not only a writer, but lesser known as an accomplished artist, Lindsay may have been pleased with the gentle brushing of her story onto a fresh theatrical canvas, ensuring its continuing appeal and cultural relevance for a new millennium.
Mulberry Hill, faithfully preserved today by the National Trust, remains a warm and inviting echo of Lindsay’s life, open for all to experience. Suspended in the moment and devoid of clocks, it evokes the impression that she and Daryl have just stepped out to enjoy their own private time.
***
References
[1] Lovell, P; (1995), ‘No Picnic’, Pan Macmillan Australia: Sydney, p. 132
[2] http://www.dramaticpublishing.com/p11...
[3] http://picnicathangingrock.com
[4] Lindsay, J; (1974, December 5), on writing Picnic at Hanging Rock, from an interview with John Taylor for the Arts Australia Council’s: ‘The Writers: Archival Film Series II - Joan Lindsay’
[5] Adams, P; (2001, December 29) ‘Time out for picnickers’, The Age, Melbourne
[6] Lindsay, J; (1962), ‘Time Without Clocks’, Cheshire Publishing: Melbourne, pp. 67-68
[7] Lindsay, J; (1974, December 5), ibid
[8] Lindsay, J; (1975), ‘Picnic at Hanging Rock’, Penguin Books: Melbourne, p. 137
An edited version appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald on 14/2/14.
http://www.smh.com.au/comment/picnic-...
Had it not been for the perchance discovery of the novel in a Sydney newsagency in 1971[1] by producer Patricia Lovell (1929-2013), the world may not have come to know the 1975 film adaptation by screenwriter Cliff Green for which she would be responsible.
While the motion picture has been regarded by some commentators as ‘the final word’, independent adaptations for stage have also emerged, with an intriguing number originating in the northern hemisphere.
Los Angeles-based playwright and mythologist, Dr. Laura Shamas, wrote her adaptation [2] in 1987, which has seen numerous productions around the US since.
What attracted her to the story? “I was commissioned to adapt the novel…I love big, epic plays; I felt that…Lindsay’s novel was sweeping in scope and timeless in its appeal.
“I could really see it in stage pictures as I read it, and I tried to create a mix of large cast scenes and one-on-one scenes throughout for a good dramatic mix,” she revealed.
“I also loved so many facets of the novel: the connection we have to each other ‘in our dreams,’ the exploration of nature, the interruption of rituals, unresolved mysteries in life, and what happens to a community in crisis.”
A more recent adaptation by theatre writer and composer, Daniel Zaitchik [3], also based in Los Angeles, will have its debut production in late February at Utah’s Weber State University.
“Around the time I discovered Picnic I had put together an all-female choir in New York City. I had a feeling Picnic would be good material for my current musical interests. The stage seemed like the perfect place for it,” he said.
How did he become interested in the story? “When I was a child I saw about ten minutes of the film on television. I still have no idea why, after twenty years, a few minutes of the film would come back to me in a dream, and that it would lead me to [what would be] one of my favourite books.
“The themes Lindsay deals with are so large and ageless. So I think, just like the ancient myths that have stood the test of time, Picnic is an enduring classic.”
Perhaps these are some of the ripples to which Lindsay prophetically alluded in a 1974 interview she gave for the then Arts Australia Council:
"...it was like dropping a stone into the water...I felt that...the thing that happened on St Valentine's Day went on spreading, out and out and out in circles, from that first thing that happened.”[4]
Despite impressing dark undertones into her St Valentine’s Day tale, her personal affection for the day ran deeply along traditional lines.
According to veteran broadcaster and her long-time friend, Phillip Adams, it was “Joan’s magic day”[5]; one on which she first met Daryl Lindsay, whom she would later marry in London on the same date in 1922. Lindsay’s autobiography, ‘Time Without Clocks,’ reveals that their married life was characterised by an abiding love, art, adventurousness and a sense of fun.
Soon after moving in to their new home, Mulberry Hill at Langwarrin South on Victoria's Mornington Peninsula, they were given a broken sundial by a relative. “The plate had worked loose on the pedestal and could be spun round like a roulette wheel. It was exactly the right kind of sundial for Mulberry Hill and we found it strangely satisfying to establish our own points of the compass and our own private time.”[6]
Lindsay believed that the past, present and future co-existed and were “all around one.”[7] An elegant notion that today appears more aligned to cosmological theory, it revealed a mind liberated from strongly held axioms of her day and the key to understanding her well-crafted enigma.
Perhaps this is epitomised in the words she gave her story's ethereal character, Miranda: “Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place."[8]
Joan Lindsay left us a unique, home-grown story which continues to entrance people worldwide. For many who visit Hanging Rock, near Woodend in Victoria, theirs’ is a pilgrimage of sorts, where a private fascination for the unknown finds solace, attesting to the story’s ascension into the realm of mythology.
Not only a writer, but lesser known as an accomplished artist, Lindsay may have been pleased with the gentle brushing of her story onto a fresh theatrical canvas, ensuring its continuing appeal and cultural relevance for a new millennium.
Mulberry Hill, faithfully preserved today by the National Trust, remains a warm and inviting echo of Lindsay’s life, open for all to experience. Suspended in the moment and devoid of clocks, it evokes the impression that she and Daryl have just stepped out to enjoy their own private time.
***
References
[1] Lovell, P; (1995), ‘No Picnic’, Pan Macmillan Australia: Sydney, p. 132
[2] http://www.dramaticpublishing.com/p11...
[3] http://picnicathangingrock.com
[4] Lindsay, J; (1974, December 5), on writing Picnic at Hanging Rock, from an interview with John Taylor for the Arts Australia Council’s: ‘The Writers: Archival Film Series II - Joan Lindsay’
[5] Adams, P; (2001, December 29) ‘Time out for picnickers’, The Age, Melbourne
[6] Lindsay, J; (1962), ‘Time Without Clocks’, Cheshire Publishing: Melbourne, pp. 67-68
[7] Lindsay, J; (1974, December 5), ibid
[8] Lindsay, J; (1975), ‘Picnic at Hanging Rock’, Penguin Books: Melbourne, p. 137
An edited version appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald on 14/2/14.
http://www.smh.com.au/comment/picnic-...
September 28, 2013
Pictures to words, words to pictures
About eighteen months ago I stepped sideways in my exploration of writing. Readers had told me that they thought my story would translate well for the screen and that it would articulate with the 1975 film of Picnic at Hanging Rock. While it was a great compliment, it also resonated within me, as the process of writing it in the first place was one of translating what seemed to be a motion picture taking place in my imagination, and committing it to the page. Curiously, a similar experience was described by Joan Lindsay during the 1974 interview, during which she spoke of the process of her writing.
This feedback became the motivation for me to spend time, effort and funds on learning some fundamentals of screenwriting. After reading texts on the subject, I joined the Australian Writers' Guild and undertook a number of assessments, which, in fact, were drafting processes involving a experienced mentor. It was an exhausting, confronting and satisfying process.
The challenge for the screenwriter is to distil and structure a story so that it propels itself within that medium. There are many restrictions and conventions to follow, the least of which is constraining the story for a feature film to an ideal ninety pages, equivalent to ninety minutes of screen time.
From a purely selfish standpoint, the idea of Dream... being adapted for the screen was tantalising but moreso, I would hope, an homage to Picnic, for which I have had great respect and fondness for many years.
But, as in any fiction writing, there are many significant considerations, costs and processes to encounter before that would even be possible. So behind the exploration, a sense of realism has to be one's best companion.
I feel the cycle of my story is now complete. Am I a career screenwriter? Certainly not. But it was most satisfying to learn about the craft and what it takes to be one. I stand in admiration of their skills and I am simply happy with having seen a glimpse of that writing form.
This feedback became the motivation for me to spend time, effort and funds on learning some fundamentals of screenwriting. After reading texts on the subject, I joined the Australian Writers' Guild and undertook a number of assessments, which, in fact, were drafting processes involving a experienced mentor. It was an exhausting, confronting and satisfying process.
The challenge for the screenwriter is to distil and structure a story so that it propels itself within that medium. There are many restrictions and conventions to follow, the least of which is constraining the story for a feature film to an ideal ninety pages, equivalent to ninety minutes of screen time.
From a purely selfish standpoint, the idea of Dream... being adapted for the screen was tantalising but moreso, I would hope, an homage to Picnic, for which I have had great respect and fondness for many years.
But, as in any fiction writing, there are many significant considerations, costs and processes to encounter before that would even be possible. So behind the exploration, a sense of realism has to be one's best companion.
I feel the cycle of my story is now complete. Am I a career screenwriter? Certainly not. But it was most satisfying to learn about the craft and what it takes to be one. I stand in admiration of their skills and I am simply happy with having seen a glimpse of that writing form.
July 15, 2012
Trepidation and inspiration
As a first-time writer it was with some trepidation that I chose to write a sequel to a famous story created by the celebrated Australian author, Joan Lindsay, 'Picnic at Hanging Rock'.
It was a story I had loved and respected for many years. A story that was translated for cinema in 1975 leaving a global impression of what defined a mystery in our country. A story that, according to people whose work I greatly admire, director, Peter Weir, screenwriter, Cliff Green and actor, Anne-Louise Lambert, should be left open, as not all mysteries can or should be solved.
Who was I to cast aside declarations from these luminaries of the Australian film industry? Surely I was being audacious to think that I could possibly contribute to this lore, which has perhaps achieved the status of contemporary Australian mythology?
The motivation for my writing came directly from a personal experience which occurred during exploration of Hanging Rock, near Woodend in Victoria, some years ago.
During an otherwise innocuous visit to the Rock with my then ten year old son, quite unexpectedly we became separated during the ascent, under the most unusual of circumstances.
He became weary and sat in a clearing surrounded by pinnacles. I continued onward. When I returned to the spot where I thought I had left him, he was nowhere to be found.
Against my awareness of Joan Lindsay's story and despite priding myself on being a rational thinker, for the first time I experienced what I regarded as primal fear and frantically searched for him. The few seconds of terror that seemed like minutes were finally resolved when we were reunited. Understandably, he was insensible to what I had perceived. He then told me that he hadn't moved.
Contemplating that experience gave me impetus to write and to consider how a subsequent story might unfold. Of course, one of my prime goals was to be true to the spirit of Joan Lindsay's story and its motion picture adaptation made possible by Patricia Lovell and Jim and Hal McElroy.
Forty-seven years have elapsed since the book's release and our understanding of the universe and the nature of existence has changed in that time. Even Peter Weir edited the motion picture for a "director's cut" in 2004. It seems that change is inevitable and the only constant in life.
The ever-repeating cycle of moving from ignorance to enlightenment is at the heart of human existence. Does that mean that we view past mysteries with any less reverence or respect? Personally, I think not: they serve to remind us of our journey through life and our, as yet, incomplete understanding of the universe.
In writing 'Dream Within a Dream' I have tried to remain faithful to the original story while developing some new ideas and expanding upon some of its characters.
Perhaps the final word on the matter can be left to Joan Lindsay from a 1974 interview that she gave to the Arts Australia Council:
"...it was like dropping a stone into the water...I felt that...the thing that happened on St Valentine's Day went on spreading, out and out and out, in circles, from that first thing that happened. And it went on, and it affected so many lives, and so many people, and so many generations ahead, and before and after..."
It was a story I had loved and respected for many years. A story that was translated for cinema in 1975 leaving a global impression of what defined a mystery in our country. A story that, according to people whose work I greatly admire, director, Peter Weir, screenwriter, Cliff Green and actor, Anne-Louise Lambert, should be left open, as not all mysteries can or should be solved.
Who was I to cast aside declarations from these luminaries of the Australian film industry? Surely I was being audacious to think that I could possibly contribute to this lore, which has perhaps achieved the status of contemporary Australian mythology?
The motivation for my writing came directly from a personal experience which occurred during exploration of Hanging Rock, near Woodend in Victoria, some years ago.
During an otherwise innocuous visit to the Rock with my then ten year old son, quite unexpectedly we became separated during the ascent, under the most unusual of circumstances.
He became weary and sat in a clearing surrounded by pinnacles. I continued onward. When I returned to the spot where I thought I had left him, he was nowhere to be found.
Against my awareness of Joan Lindsay's story and despite priding myself on being a rational thinker, for the first time I experienced what I regarded as primal fear and frantically searched for him. The few seconds of terror that seemed like minutes were finally resolved when we were reunited. Understandably, he was insensible to what I had perceived. He then told me that he hadn't moved.
Contemplating that experience gave me impetus to write and to consider how a subsequent story might unfold. Of course, one of my prime goals was to be true to the spirit of Joan Lindsay's story and its motion picture adaptation made possible by Patricia Lovell and Jim and Hal McElroy.
Forty-seven years have elapsed since the book's release and our understanding of the universe and the nature of existence has changed in that time. Even Peter Weir edited the motion picture for a "director's cut" in 2004. It seems that change is inevitable and the only constant in life.
The ever-repeating cycle of moving from ignorance to enlightenment is at the heart of human existence. Does that mean that we view past mysteries with any less reverence or respect? Personally, I think not: they serve to remind us of our journey through life and our, as yet, incomplete understanding of the universe.
In writing 'Dream Within a Dream' I have tried to remain faithful to the original story while developing some new ideas and expanding upon some of its characters.
Perhaps the final word on the matter can be left to Joan Lindsay from a 1974 interview that she gave to the Arts Australia Council:
"...it was like dropping a stone into the water...I felt that...the thing that happened on St Valentine's Day went on spreading, out and out and out, in circles, from that first thing that happened. And it went on, and it affected so many lives, and so many people, and so many generations ahead, and before and after..."
