Documentary
As the camera moves gently from afar into the very heart of the monolith, the magic of the holiest site of the Aborigines unfolds in shimmering nuances of light. Shot at different times of day, the close-up and panorama shots of this more than 500-million-year-old stone…


Herself (Narrator)

Shot mostly at Uluru, the rock in the heart of Australia. The extreme heat damaged the emulsion of the film which is subsequently incised by the filmmaker. A ceremonial death and rebirth. The soundtrack was made by the Orchestra of Skin and Bone comprising of Ollie Olsen and John Murphy. The aborigines were from Narwietooma Station. 16mm.

Follows the incredible journey of Dave Welsman, a Sydney kids' magician determined to reboot his life with a grand illusion to make Uluru disappear. As Dave works alongside the Rock’s traditional owners and Indigenous Custodians to pull off this spectacular stunt, he discovers the profound cultural and spiritual significance of Uluru, and his own illusions about fame and success begin to disappear.

“For many years I had wanted to visit the Rock, but I had never really had the means. A little funding from Germany finally got me there. I had read a lot about the history and mythology of the Rock and of the Aboriginal people, but I was only too aware that I, as a European, could never hope to get into or feel that mythology. So I decided to make a film about it from my perspective. I cut out all these mythological figures…lizards, emus, wallabies…some of them from drawings in caves on the Rock, and carefully employed them as mattes for footage I shot in real time. In those days hotels were very close to Ayers Rock [now known as Uluru], so I never had to go very far with my camera. I used filters and telephoto lenses to suggest a kind of unknowable aura…to show that there was truly something out there on that flat plain.” (Paul Winkler)

Ayers Rock is examined in the light of its ancient human and animal associations. It is seen under various light effects which create different colour and texture impressions. The timelessness of the monolith is suggested by negative colour, the result of using fine-grain Eastmancolour print stock in the camera, a slow speed material which required the intense Central Australian light for adequate exposure. A half-speed recording of the local bird call and insects contributes to the sense of cross eras. Human perception of time, colour and sound is questioned. As Einstein said: 'The distinction between past, present and future is only an illusion, even if a stubborn one.'
South Korean cinema is in the throes of a creative explosion where mavericks are encouraged and masters are venerated. But from where has this phenomenon emerged? What is the culture that has yielded this range of filmmakers? With The Nine Lives of Korean Cinema, French critic, writer and documentarian Hubert Niogret provides a broad overview but, nevertheless, an excellent entry point into this unique type of national cinema that still remains a mystery for many people. The product of a troubled social and political history, Korean cinema sports an identity that is unique in much modern film. Niogret's documentary tells of the country's cinematic history - the ups along with the downs - and gives further voice to the artists striving to express their concerns, fears and aspirations.