Page 6 - 2005-12

Chalk and Talk
Ian Smith

Eric Scott’s tribute to Sir John Mills in The Making of the Chalk Garden, Parts One and Two
(September 2005) deserves a response. Beyond convincing me to seek out The Chalk Garden, Eric’s
disdain for critics and some of the creative decisions on the film revived some age-old arguments
about film collaboration and film criticism. Let me consider some of them.

The Role of the Critic
Wherever the creative impulse rests- as author, painter, scientist, architect, or filmmaker - peer review
follows. Is this painting, book or film any good? How does it compare with what has gone before?
Finally, some efforts are judged to be better than others.

Teens and young adults have no use for the writings of the professional critic. They follow favorite
stars until, at some stage the budding film-lover will ask, Why are some of these films better than
others? Answering that question is the beginning of personal film criticism and better choice.

For the older person, usually time-poor, watching a lot of films is not such a good use of time. Instead
of wasting hours on mediocre films, seduced by their publicity, I need a firewall against
disappointment.

But which critic or critics to heed? A radio talkback session highlighted the dilemma. One woman told
former Age film reviewer Neil Jillett that he was the worst critic she had ever read. Anything he praised
she thought was awful. To which he replied, “You should be pleased that you have found an infallible
system.”

Read or listen to a range of critics and get a feel for those who seem to have tastes similar to your
own. Hopefully the media in Australia balance their review teams between old hands and fresh-eyed
enthusiasts. Sometimes the critic will disappoint, but isn’t that also true of our own judgments?

Expressing mood by colour in a film can be a risk. If the audience notices, chances are the intent has
failed. An article in American Cinematographer about one set for The Rocketeer (1991) explained that
the nightclub was the haunt of the villain. Since green is the colour of ambiguity and uncertainty, the
walls were painted green to impart a sense of unease. Watching the film my wife and I exchanged
glances: those supposedly ‘menacing’ walls were glimpsed for a split second. Can an audience really
absorb the psychology of colour in this way? Many aspects of film-making are probably micro-
managed.

When the costume designer and producer of The Chalk Garden spent over six months of intense
consultation on the costumes (p7) and one critic later writes, ‘Deborah Kerr and Hayley Mills look
tense in beautifully photographed knit wear,’ I have to wonder who made the mistake. It may have
been a dumb put-down by a malicious critic, but could it have been an honest lack of understanding
about what was intended?

Word Play
Transforming the essence of a play or novel to dialogue and movement on the screen can be
contentious, especially when looking for someone to blame later. An old rule was, ‘Don’t muck around
with a well known story.’ By following the rule, Hollywood adaptations of David Copperfield,
Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Gone With The Wind and Rebecca, all best selling novels, became
smash hits. A play like The Chalk Garden is a harder transformation.

Sometimes when watching a film my wife will whisper to me, “This comes from a play”. The critic
alongside me has discerned that something is ‘uncinematic’ about the structure. The screenwriter has
failed to make the transition from talking heads in a one or two room setting to the free-wheeling
possibilities of the screen.