Into The Shadows

By Reviewed by Sandra Hall

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THEY'RE too grim. No, they're too polite. Why aren't there more working-class filmmakers? But hang on, if we had more of those, we'd have even more stories about teenagers leading miserable lives on suburbia's outer fringes.

All right but why haven't there been more like Romper Stomper ? The teenage gangs in that picture might have had a grudge against society but at least they expressed their discontent with energy. And talking about energy, why do Australian films breed so many anti-heroes who can't work out what they want, let alone summon the enthusiasm to fight for it?

So it goes – the circular argument surrounding Australian audiences' reluctance to embrace home-grown films. It's an argument that has persisted since Australian cinema's rebirth in the 1970s and it's canvassed once more in Into the Shadows . Canberra writer-director Andrew Scarano's documentary looks at the troubled workings of the industry from all angles. Directors, producers, distributors and exhibitors tell stories about the industry's past and present and muse on ways of ensuring it a more profitable future. All agree on only one thing. When box-office takings in Australia total almost $1 billion a year, there must be some means of snaring more than 4 per cent of that sum for Australian production.

Scarano was inspired to make his film by the closure of Canberra's Electric Shadows, one of 20 or so arthouse cinemas that have gone out of business in the past decade. His grandfather was a projectionist at Electric Shadows, which was run by Andrew Pike, film producer, distributor, historian and one of the industry's most passionate campaigners. Pike appears in the film alongside directors Bruce Beresford, Scott Hicks, George Miller, Robert Connolly and Brendan Cowell, all of whom have tales of the perseverance needed to pursue a career here. For a director, they say, it's far more tempting to give up and take your chances in the US. Before he shot Mao's Last Dancer , Beresford hadn't made a film here in 13 years. And it wasn't for lack of trying.

But if it's hard to make films here, it's even harder to sell them. The collapse of the independent circuit hasn't helped. Into the Shadows looks nostalgically on the time when Pike and other arthouse pioneers such as Sydney's Chris Kiely and Melbourne's Anthony Zeccola and Natalie Miller had the market in small independent and foreign-language films to themselves. They would trawl the international festivals for likely prospects and do so well with them that they were then able to invest in Australian production. In the scramble to find funding for Shine , director Hicks recalls it was Pike's backing that finally made the film happen.

The market changed when the American majors began to notice the independents' successes with these small films and set up their own arthouse divisions. Then came the multiplexes, which brought the end of single-screen cinemas – both the grand palaces and fondly remembered fleapits.

This is old news but Scarano leavens it with pertinent film clips and some evocative animation. He also fortifies the story with a few gritty home truths. Kiely and Mark Sarfaty of the Independent Cinemas Association speak of the pressure put on independent cinema owners who may miss out on films they want from the major distributors because they've declined to take films that aren't going to work for them. The producers, too, complain about the unfairness of the distribution deals they're forced to make. The film could use more elaboration on this point but it helps explain why Clayton Jacobson, Kenny's producer, was still waiting to repay the film's investors long after it had become a hit.

Scarano does leave us with some hope. After all, the industry has kept itself alive for the past 30 years. And there's a new reason for celebration thanks to the opportunities brought about by the proliferation of lightweight cameras and digital projectors. Australian cinema has always had its DIY filmmakers, who've shot on small budgets and invested as much time and ingenuity in selling the film as making it. Now they have cheaper tools to work with. As well as hiring individual theatres and appearing at screenings, they can post part – or all – of the film on YouTube to find fans who'll help spread the word.

Jacobson even borrowed an idea from the big end of the market and went into merchandising with a Kenny doll. "Who's going to buy a doll?" asked the sceptics. Maybe no one, he told them. It was all about perception. Merchandising was associated with success so why not try it?

Such showmanship did no harm. Kenny grossed $7.6 million in Australia, making it the second most profitable Australian film in 2006, after Miller's Happy Feet .