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We had those snippets copied – in both real time and stretched – so at last we had a
        tantalizing glimpse of the film to show. Would we ever see any more?
        In June 1979, I was contacted by a Melbourne school principal, Ken Robb. Rummaging
        through the effects of a deceased estate, he had come across a can of negative film
        which had apparently  been found  under the floorboards  of a  house. When printed,  it
        was possible to identify the reel as comprising two scenes from the Kelly film: possibly
        uncut outtakes, the scenes closely matched stills in the programme booklet. The small
        roll  of  negative  was  (and  is)  one  of  the  most  precious  physical  icons  of  Australian
        cinema  –  and  just  a  few  years  short  of  its  century,  it  is  still  in  good  shape!  It  was  a
        profound comment on Mr Robb’s publicspirited support for the Archive that he simply,
        and  unconditionally,  donated  something  for  which  he  could  have  easily  demanded  a
        very high price.

        Two years later, there was more! Some children brought into the office of the journal
        Cinema Papers a can of film which they had found on a Melbourne rubbish tip. It turned
        out to be about 500 feet of release print from the film – probably from its 1910 reissue
        version. Some of it was decomposed beyond recovery, but most could be saved. Finally
        we  had  a  substantial  sequence  from  the  film,  edited  and  with  inter  titles,  just  as  the
        original audiences would have seen it. Altogether, there was now about 5 minutes of
        footage  –  not  a  lot,  but  enough  to  convey  the  flavour  and  style  of  the  film  and  to
        substantiate its historical importance.

        No more has yet come to light. The chances of it doing so are slim, but not impossible –
        and one never gives up hope. It was appropriate that, to mark the Centenary of Cinema
        in 1995, we finally got Ned Kelly onto an Australian postage stamp. Legally, executed
        criminals can’t be depicted on stamps: but a still from the 1906 film of an actor wearing
        Ned’s actual armour – well, that’s different!

        (4)  The Sentimental Blonde … er, Bloke
                                               Raymond  Longford’s  1919  production
                                               of The Sentimental Bloke is generally
                                               regarded  as  the  jewel  of  Australia’s
                                               silent era. It is a simple love story set
                                               among the  working class of suburbia,
                                               based  on  C  J  Dennis’s  classic
                                               narrative  poem  of  the  same  name.
                                               Starring  Arthur  Tauchert  as  Bill,  the
                                               “bloke”,  and  Lottie  Lyell  as  his  girl,
                                               Doreen,  the  film  was  noted  for  its
                                               naturalistic   performances   and
                                               perceptive casting.
                                                     Arthur Tauchert,
                                               in The Sentimental Bloke
        Dennis wrote in broad Australian slang, and the narrative titles of the film directly quote
        his verse. When Bill is first “intrajuiced” (introduced) to Doreen, he “dips his lid” (raises
        his hat), and when dressed up to meet his prospective mother-in-law, he remarks of his
        unaccustomed elegance:
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