Thursday, January 24, 2019
(PDF) The potential ecological impacts of Long-nosed Fur Seal incursions into the Coorong (South Australia) and initial thoughts on possible management strategies.
(PDF) The potential ecological impacts of Long-nosed Fur Seal incursions into the Coorong (South Australia) and initial thoughts on possible management strategies.
The potential ecological impacts of Long-nosed Fur Seal incursions into the Coorong (South Australia) and initial thoughts on possible management strategies.
Abstract
This powerpoint is part of a discussion around Long-nosed Fur Seals (Arctocephalus forsteri) which started visiting the Coorong (the estuary of the Murray River) in 2007. At first, they visited in ones and twos in the middle of winter, but they now they visit in hundreds over winter, with an increasing number staying in the estuary over summer. The Coorong is a 130km long back-barrier lagoonal estuary, at the mouth of the worlds third-longest navigatable river.
It is an estuary that is under a lot of strain due to over-extraction and drainage of its previous water sources. Various estimations suggest that the primary productivity of the estuary is 5-10% of its pre-European productivity levels. The local First Nations people (the Ngarrindjeri) claim that fur seals are not a natural part of the Coorong system and have presented archeological evidence backing up their claims. Ngarrindjeri elders are very distressed, as they watch their totem birds be torn to pieces by this new peak predator.
Fourth generation fishermen in the estuary are struggling financially, physically and mentally. Local birdwatchers are concerned about the ongoing viability of bird breeding sites within the estuary. This presentation is an attempt to document some of the concerns and highlight some of the potential ecological interactions of this species, within this already stressed system.
the Coorong environment and its dependant human community
Dear Friends,
I write to you because, over the last five years I have been journeying with a concern over the health and wellbeing of the Coorong environment and its dependant human community.
I have been working (most recently on a voluntary basis) with the local communities, to help raise awareness, to find solutions and build resilience of the whole of the wetland community (plant, animal and human). Through this work, I have become increasingly aware that while the wetland is severely degraded (its primary productivity is estimated to be a tenth of its pre-European state) the human community that lives around and depends on the wetland is mirroring this disturbance.
Working on drought preparedness and climate change planning with the communities, when responding to the impacts of the Millennium Drought, I ended up calling in specialist social workers. They described the community as collectively suffering post-traumatic stress from the impacts of the drought and the constant conflicts with ‘outsiders’ since that time.
For the communities that live around the wetland, as well as river communities upstream, the River, Lakes and Coorong are their source of both financial security and personal or collective identities. Issues that damage this identity create significant distress and are often correlated to higher than normal cases of suicide and substance abuse, particularly among fishermen, farmers and Indigenous elders.
A common theme that keeps arising in my conversations with communities, particularly with the Ngarrindjeri and the fishermen, is their tiredness with the constant fighting of issues and the need to reframe the debate into a conversation around the restoration of plenty (for nature and humans) rather than the division of an ever decreasing little. They see this, as per Barnett (2018) as an opportunity to build resilience, both within the environment and within the dependent community.
Identifying the baseline of this 'plenty' is clearly key, however the sociological disturbance appears to have resulted in well-meaning individuals inadvertently, out of desperation, biasing the collective memory of how the system “works' and what has caused this system to degrade. This has happened on all sides of the water debate, causing dramatic shifts in what is considered the healthy state of the wetland. The uncertainties around climate change may be further confounding understandings around the ecological baseline.
To restore a system, we need to exercise some deep truth finding. To sit with the broad array of historic records. To find the true baseline (or baselines) to how this system once functioned. To identify what we valued about this “Kakadu of the South” (thank you Auntie Meryl) and start toward identifying where we might be able to restore it to in the future.
I see this as a means of environmental peace-making. A means of peace-making that is immediate, is fitted to my particular skills and to the place and opportunity I have been planted within. As such, I feel increasingly called to assist with this process.
After much contemplation and discussion, it seemed to me that a clear way forward would be for me to stop work for what I believe will take three years, and work with the community to collate these historic records, using them to establish true baseline conditions, particularly in the most unhealthy and contested area of the wetland (the South Lagoon of the Coorong). This collective baseline would inform the first steps the community and stakeholders would take on agreed to path toward restoration.
Many of the stakeholders and academics who work in the area have agreed that this is a positive way forward, suggesting that I do this in the form of a PhD, to maximise my access to other academics, research materials and a tax-free stipend to enable me to pay the bills, while I do this.
The Federation University has been suggested at the most appropriate University through which to do this work and has agreed to facilitate the management of a scholarship, if I can obtain commitments for the required 'Industry' co-contribution.
I have attached to this letter both a draft research proposal (it will not be finalised until I have had a chance to ensure it meets the needs of all parties) and paperwork from the university with regard to ‘Industry’ sponsorship. I have also attached a copy of my curriculum vitae.
In total, the costs for a complete PhD scholarship (tuition and stipend) start at $204,000 and go up from there, depending on research costs. The Federation University (Professor Peter Gell) has offered a full tuition PhD scholarship and a half-stipend as their contribution, which is effectively $156,000 of that base budget.
The struggling local fishery, recognising this as a fundamental understanding, have committed to contributing another quarter-stipend ($8,000 per annum or $24,000 over three years) to assist me to do this work. This leaves my just $8,000 per annum ($24,000) of that base budget, to enable me to do this work for a period of three years. Ideally I would secure at least $2,000 per annum in additional funds, to cover any unforeseen costs.
The purpose of this letter is two-fold;
• Is it possible for Friends to recognise this calling as a concern, to provide me with some of the moral support I will need to complete this?
• Is there any way Friends can see to contribute financially toward this work, by providing the remaining quarter-stipend ($8,000 - 10,000 per annum) or a smaller annual contribution, to help cover research costs?
In friendship,
Faith Coleman | Graduate Diploma GIS & RS | Independent Researcher
Faith Coleman | Graduate Diploma GIS & RS | Independent Researcher
Faith ColemanFreeelance estuarine ecologist
7.51
· Graduate Diploma GIS & RSSA Unsung Heros of Science and Science Communication – Finalists | National Science Week
SA Unsung Heros of Science and Science Communication – Finalists | National Science Week
SA UNSUNG HEROS OF SCIENCE AND SCIENCE COMMUNICATION – FINALISTS
National OfficeThese are the finalists in South Australia’s annual Unsung Heros of Science and Science Communication awards. The winners will be announced at the SA Science Excellence Awards gala dinner to be held at the Adelaide Convention Centre on 11 August.
Unsung Hero of SA Science
Rachel Burton
Professor Rachel Burton is a plant molecular biologist with the University of Adelaide and she has a particular interest in the genes that control the processes by which plant cell walls are formed. Her research to date has mainly focused on barley, but now extends to other cereals and native grasses. She has recently added an interest in biofuels to her research portfolio, and future developments could contribute significantly to the global need to reduce carbon dioxide and replace fossil fuels without impacting on food security.
Her scientific contribution to her field is significant, and the importance of the application of her work is reflected in the large amount of research funding she has been able to attract.
Professor Burton views communication and outreach as an important component of her work, making her complex area of science accessible and meaningful to the broader community. She is a strong advocate for women in science fields and is an inspiring teacher, supervisor and mentor to junior scientists and research students.
Peri and Faith Coleman
For more than three decades, mother and daughter team of Peri and Faith Coleman have together and separately contributed enormously to our scientific understanding of the South Australian environment. Both operate their own Environmental Consulting Agencies but regularly combine forces to produce outstanding management plans, recovery programs, policy documents and published scientific research around species of plants and animals or specific regions within the State.
Both Peri and Faith have most frequently focused their work on coastal, saltmarsh and estuarine regions around South Australia, but they are also regular researchers for government, NRM Boards and Industry on topics and regions including birds, wetlands, grasslands, plant assemblages and many other issues of environmental concern.
Faith and Peri are committed to supporting each other in their applied science, research, advocacy, policy construction and environmental understanding to ensure best outcomes.
Francesca McInerney
Dr Francesca McInerney, from the University of Adelaide, uses the chemical traces of ancient plants to understand how climate change affected ecosystems in the past. The broad aim of her work is to use these records to anticipate future climate change impacts on vegetation, soils and biogeochemical cycles.
Originally from the US, she had a thriving career and an extensive professional network across a number of universities before finally accepting an ARC Future Fellowship in Australia in 2012. Since that time she has built up a large and active research group and developed wide-ranging collaborations.
Her infectious enthusiasm for her science is communicated through her university teaching, popular public lectures, events with school students and providing – in a volunteer capacity – other field and laboratory experiences to post-graduate researchers.
Unsung Hero of SA Science Communication
Lisa Bailey
Dr Lisa Bailey has enjoyed a varied career, but truly began working within the field of science communication when she moved to London and worked for the renowned Royal Institution of Great Britain. Upon her return to Australia, Lisa played an integral role in establishing the Royal Institute of Australia, where she is still employed as Programs Manager. She recently commenced as a part-time lecturer in Science Communication and Policy at Flinders University.
Throughout her career Lisa has made a significant contribution to communicating science to thousands of people throughout the world. She has also been the driving force behind the resurrection of Australia’s most successful science film festival, the SCINEMA International Science Film Festival.
She is a tireless advocate for quality science communication, as well as for increased opportunities for women and girls to have meaningful STEM careers.
Ingo Koeper
Dr Ingo Koeper is an outstanding lecturer at Flinders University. He has continuously shown a great enthusiasm for teaching and for the engagement and motivation of students.
Like all great teachers, Dr Koeper always puts his students’ needs first and endeavours to understand what motivates them to learn and develop. He has applied this philosophy to chemistry and nanotechnology topics across all years, from first year undergraduate students to postgraduate level, and has been a leader in making major changes to the way these topics are taught.
As well as being at the forefront of developing and implementing new teaching approaches, he is also a pioneer of online learning within the school of chemical and physical sciences. To quote one of his students: “Dude knew how to rock it!”.
Ian Musgrave
Dr Ian Musgrave is a molecular pharmacologist/toxicologist at the University of Adelaide where he has worked as a researcher and lecturer since 1994, producing over 100 scholarly publications.
Dr Musgrave has also made an enormous contribution to the communication of science and for many years has been the most prolific media commentator for the university across the sciences and health sciences. He is a regular contributor to the online publication “The Conservation”, including his own column which focuses on his research area of toxicology. He enthusiastically engages the media and the public on topics requiring scientific explanation and his essays have been included in high-profile science writing and blogging anthologies.
In addition, Dr Musgrave is a dedicated amateur astronomer, with his own blog “Astroblog”, as well as contributing to podcasts and articles related to popular astronomy. He has also written on evolution for the “Panda’s Thumb” blog and he is involved in numerous science communication events throughout each year.
Wednesday, January 23, 2019
‘If Beale Street Could Talk’: How Barry Jenkins Adapted James Baldwin | IndieWire
‘If Beale Street Could Talk’: How Barry Jenkins Adapted James Baldwin | IndieWire
‘If Beale Street Could Talk’: Barry Jenkins Reveres Baldwin, Yet ‘The Movie Is a Movie’
Mostly faithful to the novel, the filmmaker still aimed to put his own signature on this adaptation of the accomplished work.
Tambay Obenson
Nov 30, 2018
“If Beale Street Could Talk”
Annapurna
For writer-director Barry Jenkins, the question wasn’t whether to adapt James Baldwin, but which of his novels to adapt. A student of Baldwin, humble enough to recognize that he may not have been equipped with the necessary experience to tackle the heft of much of the culture critic’s dense work, Jenkins settled on the relative simplicity that is the love story in “If Beale Street Could Talk,” which came to him via a trusted friend who envisioned the novel’s cinematic potential in his hands. Still mostly unknown at the time, Jenkins had to contend with how a relatively green feature filmmaker would adapt a distinguished work by a widely-admired author.
“I hadn’t read it at that point, which was a blindspot for me as far as Baldwin goes,” said Jenkins, who found what he felt was a perfect fusion of the essayistic Baldwin and his strengths as an observant storyteller. “I was really excited about two things: One, before I read it, I didn’t realize it was basically like James Baldwin writing a thriller, which I thought was cool. Then I was really moved by how romantic it is on one hand, and then how biting it is on the other.”
A most important first step was the seemingly daunting task of getting permission from Baldwin’s notoriously protective estate. Luckily for Jenkins, who wrote the screenplay before seeking approval, he didn’t have to be aggressive in his pursuit, although patience was essential.Read More:James Baldwin’s Family Explains Why They Gave Barry Jenkins Permission to Adapt ‘If Beale Street Could Talk’
“There was so much going on in their world and they like to be diligent, and they move as a committee,” said Jenkins of a process that took around three years, wrapping up the deal just ahead of “Moonlight’s” premiere. “It wasn’t that one person gave me the okay. All the sisters had to give me the okay, and then the extended family. So it took a while, but we got there.”
Mostly faithful to Baldwin’s original work, audiences familiar with the novel will immediately recognize where and how the film differs. Although Jenkins made it clear that just about every scene in the book was filmed, even though they didn’t all make the final cut.
An allure to adapting a novel is that the writer has something concrete to start from, but as Jenkins said, “While it was the first time Baldwin has been adapted for an English-language feature film, and there was some pressure to keep as much of it the same as possible, what it ultimately comes down to is: the book is the book, and the movie is the movie.”
“If Beale Street Could Talk”
Annapurna/YouTube
It was a realization that relieved him of much of the stress that would expectedly come with this kind of momentous undertaking. “I didn’t expect it to go well,” the filmmaker said. “And so I took the burden of doing it well, off my shoulders. And then I felt like I had freedom to make the film I wanted to make.”
Wrestling to find its narrative spine, the screenplay would go through several of what he described as radical iterations that would eventually lead to a key revelation: “We finally hit on this idea that the first act need not flow the same way the second act does,” said Jenkins. “There’s a really hard delineation between the storytelling style between them. The first act is procedural, going back and forth between the past and present with Tish and Fonny. And the second is looser, jumping between characters, more poetic in tone.”
Baldwin’s fifth novel, published in 1974, “If Beale Street Could Talk” is a love story set in Harlem in the early 1970s. Although he considered setting his adaptation in the present day, thinking it would be easier, Jenkins chose to leave the story in the past, believing that the timelessness of the themes, and the power of the author’s voice as delivered by the story’s first-person narrator, would ensure contemporary emotional resonance. And thus, although relying on voiceover is looked down upon, Jenkins decided from the start that Tish’s running narration was vital.Read More:‘If Beale Street Could Talk’: Barry Jenkins Reveals James Baldwin Notes on Actors He Wanted For Adaptation
“It was one of the very first choices I made, because, part of that was, shit, Baldwin’s voice is amazing,” he said. “I mean, it’s Tish’s voice we’re hearing, but really, ultimately it’s Baldwin’s. And I had it in my head of having this young woman speaking these very potent, considered words.”
Jenkins was reassured of his choice when he screened another Baldwin film released before “Beale Street,” which used a similar technique: “‘I Am Not Your Negro’ came out, and I was like, this is really good! Let me make sure I’m doing this the right way.”
Directed by Raoul Peck, based on an unfinished Baldwin manuscript, “I Am Not Your Negro” (2016) features a narration of the author’s own words, spoken by Samuel L. Jackson. “And he [Peck] worked with the estate for a long time on that film,” Jenkins said. “He actually got to the archives, which I barely touched.”
What Jenkins did get his hands on was access to Baldwin’s “Beale Street” notes. Prior to the start of production, the filmmaker received a package from the executor of Baldwin’s estate, his sister Gloria Karefa-Smart, which included an old notebook. Inside were handwritten notes that Baldwin made in 1978, on how he’d approach a film adaptation of “Beale Street,” including his casting choices and wish list of directors. “I had already finished my draft of the script by the time I got the notebook, so I was really pleased to read his notes confirming some of the choices I had made,” said Jenkins. “But I do wish there was more. I would’ve loved to see how his mind would have worked out more of the adaptation.”
Additionally, as a man telling a story from the point of view of a young woman, Baldwin was aware of the potential minefield he was stepping into, and sought the opinions of women writer friends, notably the equally esteemed Toni Morrison. “He was super nervous about what the response to the book would be, and he did face some criticism,” Jenkins said, who had similar concerns while adapting the novel.
“It was terrifying,” he said, adding that he was warned by women filmmaker friends about certain problematic “male gaze” scenes. “I’m glad they felt comfortable to tell me, because there were changes we made to rectify them,” he said.
Considering the question of whether it would have been more appropriate, even if only symbolically, that a black woman filmmaker should have been the first to adapt the novel, Jenkins said, “If it had been written by a woman, then I think it might have been a step too far for me to, not necessarily take ownership of it, but I could see how maybe I would not be the most ideal person to be the first director to adapt it. But that wasn’t the case, and I felt a level of comfort doing it.”
Approaching the adaptation like a jigsaw puzzle, the filmmaker relished Baldwin’s fractured, non-linear approach, which gave him permission to generously move scenes around in his script, experimenting with juxtaposition, until he was satisfied with the narrative flow. It also made it less painful to eliminate pieces.
“We had to cut out a lot of scenes,” said Jenkins, listing some of them, including what he described as a “really lovely conversation about unity between black and brown” with Tish (Kiki Layne) and Pedrocito (Diego Luna). About 40-minutes of filmed scene-work was cut but the most difficult to remove was the death of Fonny’s (Stephan James) father Frank (Michael Beach). “The omission of Frank committing suicide was a really big one,” he said. “We don’t say that it didn’t happen, we just don’t say or show that it does.”Read More:Barry Jenkins Reveals Jake Gyllenhaal Inadvertently Helped ‘If Beale Street Could Talk’ Get Made
It’s an occurrence in Baldwin’s novel that is of significant impact, and Jenkins believes that while the decision to eliminate it wasn’t an easy one, he felt it was necessary given the story he wanted to tell. “The way I approached it mentally is that, in a certain way, Frank commits suicide so that Tish and Fonny’s baby can be born,” the filmmaker said. “And also significant for me was that, at that point in the film, I didn’t want to represent the death of another black father, with Fonny already seeming like he’s going off the deep end, even with his baby about to be born. I especially didn’t want any mention of Frank’s death to affect what I think is the hope that we see in the child actually being born. So I decided to take it out to clear the path for the tableaux that we end the film on.”
Teasing that discarded scenes will be included as extras on the eventual home video release of “Beale Street,” Jenkins said, although it took him a while to get there, he’s proud of the final version of his adaptation, but is tuning out awards season chatter around it. Recalling his Best Picture Oscar win for “Moonlight” in 2017, he said, “How could I ever expect anything like that to happen with the very next film? I mean adapting ‘Beale Street’ demanded my full attention, and to have had these other things at the back of my head, like whether or not it would win an Oscar, would have tainted it.”
With back-to-back high caliber Baldwin films in “I Am Not Your Negro” and now “If Beale Street Could Talk,” the filmmaker hopes it’s momentum that will lead to other adaptations, and a reintroduction of the late novelist and social critic, especially to younger audiences. “That is my hope, because I do think we’re not reading as much as we used to,” Jenkins said. “And I think these films can serve as vessels that get people back into the writing of Baldwin.”
‘If Beale Street Could Talk’: Barry Jenkins Reveres Baldwin, Yet ‘The Movie Is a Movie’
Mostly faithful to the novel, the filmmaker still aimed to put his own signature on this adaptation of the accomplished work.
Tambay Obenson
Nov 30, 2018
“If Beale Street Could Talk”
Annapurna
For writer-director Barry Jenkins, the question wasn’t whether to adapt James Baldwin, but which of his novels to adapt. A student of Baldwin, humble enough to recognize that he may not have been equipped with the necessary experience to tackle the heft of much of the culture critic’s dense work, Jenkins settled on the relative simplicity that is the love story in “If Beale Street Could Talk,” which came to him via a trusted friend who envisioned the novel’s cinematic potential in his hands. Still mostly unknown at the time, Jenkins had to contend with how a relatively green feature filmmaker would adapt a distinguished work by a widely-admired author.
“I hadn’t read it at that point, which was a blindspot for me as far as Baldwin goes,” said Jenkins, who found what he felt was a perfect fusion of the essayistic Baldwin and his strengths as an observant storyteller. “I was really excited about two things: One, before I read it, I didn’t realize it was basically like James Baldwin writing a thriller, which I thought was cool. Then I was really moved by how romantic it is on one hand, and then how biting it is on the other.”
A most important first step was the seemingly daunting task of getting permission from Baldwin’s notoriously protective estate. Luckily for Jenkins, who wrote the screenplay before seeking approval, he didn’t have to be aggressive in his pursuit, although patience was essential.Read More:James Baldwin’s Family Explains Why They Gave Barry Jenkins Permission to Adapt ‘If Beale Street Could Talk’
“There was so much going on in their world and they like to be diligent, and they move as a committee,” said Jenkins of a process that took around three years, wrapping up the deal just ahead of “Moonlight’s” premiere. “It wasn’t that one person gave me the okay. All the sisters had to give me the okay, and then the extended family. So it took a while, but we got there.”
Mostly faithful to Baldwin’s original work, audiences familiar with the novel will immediately recognize where and how the film differs. Although Jenkins made it clear that just about every scene in the book was filmed, even though they didn’t all make the final cut.
An allure to adapting a novel is that the writer has something concrete to start from, but as Jenkins said, “While it was the first time Baldwin has been adapted for an English-language feature film, and there was some pressure to keep as much of it the same as possible, what it ultimately comes down to is: the book is the book, and the movie is the movie.”
“If Beale Street Could Talk”
Annapurna/YouTube
It was a realization that relieved him of much of the stress that would expectedly come with this kind of momentous undertaking. “I didn’t expect it to go well,” the filmmaker said. “And so I took the burden of doing it well, off my shoulders. And then I felt like I had freedom to make the film I wanted to make.”
Wrestling to find its narrative spine, the screenplay would go through several of what he described as radical iterations that would eventually lead to a key revelation: “We finally hit on this idea that the first act need not flow the same way the second act does,” said Jenkins. “There’s a really hard delineation between the storytelling style between them. The first act is procedural, going back and forth between the past and present with Tish and Fonny. And the second is looser, jumping between characters, more poetic in tone.”
Baldwin’s fifth novel, published in 1974, “If Beale Street Could Talk” is a love story set in Harlem in the early 1970s. Although he considered setting his adaptation in the present day, thinking it would be easier, Jenkins chose to leave the story in the past, believing that the timelessness of the themes, and the power of the author’s voice as delivered by the story’s first-person narrator, would ensure contemporary emotional resonance. And thus, although relying on voiceover is looked down upon, Jenkins decided from the start that Tish’s running narration was vital.Read More:‘If Beale Street Could Talk’: Barry Jenkins Reveals James Baldwin Notes on Actors He Wanted For Adaptation
“It was one of the very first choices I made, because, part of that was, shit, Baldwin’s voice is amazing,” he said. “I mean, it’s Tish’s voice we’re hearing, but really, ultimately it’s Baldwin’s. And I had it in my head of having this young woman speaking these very potent, considered words.”
Jenkins was reassured of his choice when he screened another Baldwin film released before “Beale Street,” which used a similar technique: “‘I Am Not Your Negro’ came out, and I was like, this is really good! Let me make sure I’m doing this the right way.”
Directed by Raoul Peck, based on an unfinished Baldwin manuscript, “I Am Not Your Negro” (2016) features a narration of the author’s own words, spoken by Samuel L. Jackson. “And he [Peck] worked with the estate for a long time on that film,” Jenkins said. “He actually got to the archives, which I barely touched.”
What Jenkins did get his hands on was access to Baldwin’s “Beale Street” notes. Prior to the start of production, the filmmaker received a package from the executor of Baldwin’s estate, his sister Gloria Karefa-Smart, which included an old notebook. Inside were handwritten notes that Baldwin made in 1978, on how he’d approach a film adaptation of “Beale Street,” including his casting choices and wish list of directors. “I had already finished my draft of the script by the time I got the notebook, so I was really pleased to read his notes confirming some of the choices I had made,” said Jenkins. “But I do wish there was more. I would’ve loved to see how his mind would have worked out more of the adaptation.”
Additionally, as a man telling a story from the point of view of a young woman, Baldwin was aware of the potential minefield he was stepping into, and sought the opinions of women writer friends, notably the equally esteemed Toni Morrison. “He was super nervous about what the response to the book would be, and he did face some criticism,” Jenkins said, who had similar concerns while adapting the novel.
“It was terrifying,” he said, adding that he was warned by women filmmaker friends about certain problematic “male gaze” scenes. “I’m glad they felt comfortable to tell me, because there were changes we made to rectify them,” he said.
Considering the question of whether it would have been more appropriate, even if only symbolically, that a black woman filmmaker should have been the first to adapt the novel, Jenkins said, “If it had been written by a woman, then I think it might have been a step too far for me to, not necessarily take ownership of it, but I could see how maybe I would not be the most ideal person to be the first director to adapt it. But that wasn’t the case, and I felt a level of comfort doing it.”
Approaching the adaptation like a jigsaw puzzle, the filmmaker relished Baldwin’s fractured, non-linear approach, which gave him permission to generously move scenes around in his script, experimenting with juxtaposition, until he was satisfied with the narrative flow. It also made it less painful to eliminate pieces.
“We had to cut out a lot of scenes,” said Jenkins, listing some of them, including what he described as a “really lovely conversation about unity between black and brown” with Tish (Kiki Layne) and Pedrocito (Diego Luna). About 40-minutes of filmed scene-work was cut but the most difficult to remove was the death of Fonny’s (Stephan James) father Frank (Michael Beach). “The omission of Frank committing suicide was a really big one,” he said. “We don’t say that it didn’t happen, we just don’t say or show that it does.”Read More:Barry Jenkins Reveals Jake Gyllenhaal Inadvertently Helped ‘If Beale Street Could Talk’ Get Made
It’s an occurrence in Baldwin’s novel that is of significant impact, and Jenkins believes that while the decision to eliminate it wasn’t an easy one, he felt it was necessary given the story he wanted to tell. “The way I approached it mentally is that, in a certain way, Frank commits suicide so that Tish and Fonny’s baby can be born,” the filmmaker said. “And also significant for me was that, at that point in the film, I didn’t want to represent the death of another black father, with Fonny already seeming like he’s going off the deep end, even with his baby about to be born. I especially didn’t want any mention of Frank’s death to affect what I think is the hope that we see in the child actually being born. So I decided to take it out to clear the path for the tableaux that we end the film on.”
Teasing that discarded scenes will be included as extras on the eventual home video release of “Beale Street,” Jenkins said, although it took him a while to get there, he’s proud of the final version of his adaptation, but is tuning out awards season chatter around it. Recalling his Best Picture Oscar win for “Moonlight” in 2017, he said, “How could I ever expect anything like that to happen with the very next film? I mean adapting ‘Beale Street’ demanded my full attention, and to have had these other things at the back of my head, like whether or not it would win an Oscar, would have tainted it.”
With back-to-back high caliber Baldwin films in “I Am Not Your Negro” and now “If Beale Street Could Talk,” the filmmaker hopes it’s momentum that will lead to other adaptations, and a reintroduction of the late novelist and social critic, especially to younger audiences. “That is my hope, because I do think we’re not reading as much as we used to,” Jenkins said. “And I think these films can serve as vessels that get people back into the writing of Baldwin.”
Barry Jenkins on Making ‘If Beale Street Could Talk’ - The Atlantic
Barry Jenkins on Making ‘If Beale Street Could Talk’ - The Atlantic
How Barry Jenkins Turned His James Baldwin Obsession Into His Next Movie
The If Beale Street Could Talk director discusses why his new film was harder to make than Moonlight, how he brought 1970s Harlem to life, and what kind of “chemistry” he wants between his actors.DAVID SIMSDEC 8, 2018
Barry Jenkins directs KiKi Layne (right) on the set of his film If Beale Street Could Talk.TATUM MANGUS / ANNAPURNA PICTURES / THE ATLANTICThis interview contains some mild spoilers for the film If Beale Street Could Talk.
Two years after his paradigm-shifting Oscar success with Moonlight, the director Barry Jenkins is making a triumphant return with If Beale Street Could Talk, a delicate but devastating adaptation of James Baldwin’s 1974 novel of the same title. Set in 1970s Harlem, the film stars KiKi Layne and Stephan James as two young lovers named Tish and Fonny, whose relationship is pulled apart after Fonny is falsely accused of rape and imprisoned. Jenkins handles the duo’s connection with the same poeticism and grace he’s displayed in his other work. He translates Baldwin’s prose with an ease that’s surprising, given that this is the first fictional film based on one of the author’s novels.
Ahead of the movie’s release, The Atlantic spoke with Jenkins about why this film was so much harder to make than Moonlight, how he brought the particular lushness of Harlem to life, and why he thinks of Beale Street as Baldwin’s take on a Law & Order episode. This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
David Sims: I know you’ve loved the novel for a long time, but when did it occur to you that it’d be possible to adapt it?
Barry Jenkins: I think because I never expected that we’d actually get to make it, a lot of the more pressure-filled aspects of it weren’t there. At literally the same time that I wrote Moonlight, I wrote this. Back in 2011, 2012, I was in this thing I called “filmmaker therapy.” I had been at a program in New York City—this company called Cinereach does this thing called the Cinereach Fellowship. So I would come out from San Francisco every two months, sit on the couch at Cinereach, and spill my guts out to the advisers. I was talking about James Baldwin a lot and how obsessed I was with him, and I think it was Natalie Difford at Cinereach who said, “Why don’t you try adapting him?”
And a friend of mine had sent me Beale Street and said, “You should make a film of this.” And in the swirl of all these things, I said, “All right, I’m gonna go off to Europe and I’m gonna try and adapt this.”
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Sims: When does it happen that this is no longer an exercise, that this is something you’d be interested in? Because the Baldwin estate is very protective of his work.
Jenkins: Very protective and very diligent. I finished the first draft in 2013, went directly to Telluride, started rewriting it a bit with the help of my producers. And then in the spring of 2014, I sent it to the Baldwin estate, and right away I got a typewritten letter in the mail saying, “We’ve received your package.” Then it was this slow process of the people watching my first film, Medicine for Melancholy, passing around the hard copy of my script, and it was somewhere in early preproduction on Moonlight where I realized, Oh, they’re taking this seriously. I think this is going to happen.
Read: “Moonlight” is a film of uncommon grace.
Sims: When you’re trying to adapt Beale Street, is there anything that strikes you as the root of this story? Because I reread the book and this line stuck out to me. Tish talking about Fonny: “It’s a miracle to realize that somebody loves you.” When I saw the movie, that jumped out to me as the keystone of the film.
Jenkins: The purity of the love between them is definitely something that grabbed me. Baldwin had a few voices that he wrote in, and one of those voices was just deeply sensual, innately in touch with human emotions. But also he could be a very, very angry social critic. And I think this book is the perfect fusion of the more essayistic protest novel and somebody who deeply believed in sensuality and love. When I first read the book, or second-read the book, I thought, How amazing would it be to fuse those two things into a cinematic language?
Sims: But challenging, right?
Jenkins: Definitely challenging. This movie was definitely harder than Moonlight. For 8,000 different reasons, but the narrative is slippery, there are way more characters. If there are five words spoken in Moonlight, there are 500 words spoken in Beale Street. There are all these different muscles that I haven’t had to work out in the past that I had to work out in this film.
Sims: And you have a voice-over narrator. Was that there from the very beginning?
Jenkins: From the very beginning. As somebody who grew up being obsessed with Wong Kar-wai, I’ve always been attracted to narratives that feature voice-over. Part of that is—and I’ve said this in the past—I don’t think cinema is the best medium for interiority. In cinema, everything has to be acted out in flesh and blood. In film school, our professors were like, “Voice-over is a trope; it’s a crutch.” So I always wanted to find a way to defy those teachings. I think when done well, like in the hands of Wong Kar-wai, it can be incredibly evocative. And Baldwin is one of the premier writers of the interior voice.
Sims: Between the intimacy and the polemical, when you’re thinking about the intimacy first, how do you approach that visually?
Jenkins: The visual current between Moonlight and Beale Street, that’s the place where they’re most similar. The intimacy between the two young persons, and for me that all came down to two actors who would connect in a certain way. I think when you think of chemistry, you think, Oh, those two actors just want to tear each other’s clothes off. And that’s not what I’m speaking of when I speak of chemistry. I’m talking about two people who feel legitimately connected, whose viewpoints and thoughts dovetail, and I thought that about KiKi Layne and Stephan James.
Beyond that, it was about trying to build a narrative, because the thing about this book to me that’s kind of shocking is, it’s James Baldwin writing a thriller. Or James Baldwin at least writing a procedural. Like if James Baldwin was going to write the pilot of Law & Order, this is what it would be. It was about taking care of that story while also allowing for the space to drift out of that and preserve these intimate elements. To not let the polemic overshadow the pristine housing of that intimacy.
Sims: The film has these shots of an actor looking right at the camera. Was that something you always had in mind, too? That was something that felt connected to Moonlight.
Jenkins: It’s funny, with Moonlight we didn’t plan to do those shots. We kind of had this idea in the back of our head, and then we just kinda started doing them. With Beale Street we knew, but we didn’t know when we would use them. It’s an easy thing for [the cinematographer James Laxton] and I to set up, and what I like to do is, if I can feel that the actor’s in a place where the thinking has receded and they’re in a meditative state, then we pull that shot out. It’s important for the audience to have a direct connection to the character, and when an actor’s performing, there’s always some degree of distance. If the performance goes away, and there’s this perfect fusion between actor and character, then I want the audience to look right into that person’s eyes.
Sims: Does it frighten the actors? Frighten is too strong, maybe, but unsettle?
Jenkins: Frighten is too strong, but it’s awkward. KiKi Layne, who plays Tish, had the most wonderful observation about it. She said, “This is awkward as hell.” And in my head, I thought, Oh, she’s just inexperienced, that’s why it’s so awkward. And then she broke it down and said, “No, when you’re acting, there’s giving and receiving. You’re in the scene with the other actor, you give and they respond. When you’re looking in the lens, you’re just giving and there’s nothing coming back.” And I was like, “Oh, shit, when you put it that way, I understand.” And then I said, “You don’t know this, but you’re giving to the audience. And trust me, they are giving things back.”
Sims: So that connection is important. For the polemical, the message of the book, that feels even harder to wind in.
Jenkins: It was, and it wasn’t. One of the many smart things about this book is Baldwin could have written about this in purely essayistic form. It could have been a sequel to The Fire Next Time had he so chosen. But the most heightened polemic are the two conversations between black men because it’s coming through the body of actors who can identify with the things that Baldwin is speaking through these characters. I think it comes out in this way that feels completely natural and quite organic. Because of that, I think the punches land.
For me, the difficulty in that was the casting. Because Baldwin was amazing, but he was also singular. Sometimes the characters are speaking and it’s not the characters; it’s James Baldwin. But with these actors, they take that language and make it fully whole. For me, once the cast was collected and put together, and they all love the material, you just push the button.
Sims: You’ve made three movies that have a palpable connection to their place. The Harlem of this movie feels real but a little—magical isn’t the word, but part of the past. How did you want to put Harlem on the screen?
Jenkins: I thought the book was a love letter to Harlem in a certain way. I thought nobody can love a place more than someone who’s writing from the inside. I think Baldwin very much wrote from the inside. Because Harlem in this period was a very limiting place. And yet I love how in the book, Tish feels safer and more at home in Harlem than she does in the Village. What I saw in that was Harlem as this place where these characters can feel loved, where this love will be allowed to flourish. Look, it’s Baldwin. It’s not sleight of hand; it’s not surprising that while Harlem is the place the NYPD would say was a hub of crime, Tish and Fonny go down to the Village and that’s where all the problems start.
I had spent some time in Harlem, had read a lot about the place from afar. I had a very idealistic view of what the place was, and what it meant for the cultural identity of African Americans. When you read the book, it feels like a celebration of life and the lushness of the romance Baldwin depicted.
Read: Barry Jenkins brings James Baldwin home to Harlem.
Sims: And the colors are so vivid, versus the scenes in the Village, which are very dark and the lights feel a little harsher. Is that how you wanted to differentiate the two places?
Jenkins: That was part of it. The other part of it was, just like with Moonlight, I think the tone of certain sequences are affected by the emotion of the narrative. In prison, the light is a little harsher as Tish and Fonny’s relationship starts to curdle.
Sims: Tish is obviously the character anyone is going to connect to watching it. Fonny is tougher because he’s behind a glass wall for so much of the movie.
Jenkins: It’s honestly why Stephan James booked the part. I knew I wanted to play it straight—there are a couple of moments where Fonny has these flashes of anger, as he should.
Sims: And he knows it frightens Tish, as well.
Jenkins: I wanted an actor whose presence was so large that, as you said, even through these barriers of glass, and through the burden of whatever doubt the audience might have, he can still express his full self. I’m not comparing Fonny or Stephan James to Barack Obama, but I think about how angry Barack Obama must have been so many times during his presidency. He had to shave off so many parts of himself. And I didn’t want to do that with this character. So Stephan was someone who I knew could bring the full range of his character. And he just has the most amazing eyes. We didn’t plan to do the dissolves we do in the film, but there were a few shots just looking into his eyes, and I knew we had to get out of the scene, but I just wanted to hold on to the eyes a little bit longer.
Sims: This movie could have been so fiery and angry. Fonny’s situation is so Kafkaesque—he knows he was far from the crime scene, but you don’t even let us see where he actually was.
Jenkins: Because I think that would be too easy. Tish does that whole monologue that it’s not possible to run from Orchard to Bank Street. We could very easily show that. It’s not in the book, but—what do you think? There’s a preponderance of evidence. And also, you’ve seen this man; you’ve been watching him.
Sims: It gets back to the polemical thing. The movie doesn’t want to communicate anger so much as hopelessness.
Jenkins: If it’s all anger, all the time, then to me that’s dehumanizing in a certain way. I think in reading the novel, I could feel the anger. I think we keep some of that anger; I think the angriest bits of the novel, we don’t need to lean in to. But what moved me about the novel was that anger never completely consumed or overwhelmed the love, the community, the family. For me to have made it from a point of Fuck this, fuck everything, that would have almost—tainted is the wrong word, but it would have affected the depictions of their love. There is a child at the end of this journey, and I did not want to have the circumstances of what befalls Fonny to completely consume him.
Sims: To define this kid before he’s even born.
Jenkins: It’s interesting. Because the way we end this movie is different than the book, you can argue that it has [defined him]. One of the things I’m proudest of in the film, that I found most moving about the book … is the way Baldwin treats the character Victoria Rogers, the woman who has accused Fonny of rape. You read the book, and you know she’s not the antagonist; she is a victim. And I love the way all the women—
Sims: They never say, “It didn’t happen.”
Jenkins: Exactly. And I even love that in the movie, when Regina [King’s character, Sharon, Tish’s mother] goes to Puerto Rico [to confront Victoria about her accusation against Fonny], if I were making this movie from a place of anger, the scene between the two of them would be very problematic. Because if she went to confront that woman out of anger or bitterness … it frightens me to think of how that scene could have played out.
Read: The trenchant powers of “If Beale Street Could Talk” and “Widows”
Sims: Making this movie in 2018, that scene seems like the toughest needle to thread.
Jenkins: There’s a scene very early in the film where there’s an act of domestic violence. Right in the moment, you hear Joseph, Colman Domingo’s character [and Tish’s father], say, “Don’t hit your woman” [to Fonny’s father]. Then Sharon says, “Go on, we don’t need you here,” and sends the men out. The very first thing she does is go right to the door and turn the deadbolt so the men can’t come back in. The men are out there; the women are in here. Now [the women in Tish and Fonny’s families] still have it out, but just as a common denominator, woman to woman, [the message is] I’m going to protect you.
Sims: And as they have it out, it’s a woman-to-woman conversation; they’re talking about one another as mothers.
Jenkins: Exactly. So despite the fact that Sharon is there [with Victoria] talking about Fonny, I wanted that scene to also play as woman to woman—I am not here to judge you, I am not here to attack you; I am here to talk to you. It is in the book, but as the conversation is starting to slip away, [Sharon] refers to her as “daughter.” And Emily Rios [who plays Victoria] is so good in the role. You see something flinch because she’s thinking, This woman is not here to attack me. But there’s trauma, and there’s no place for trauma to go but out. Someone described it to me as Regina being like Jeremy Renner in The Hurt Locker, sitting there trying to defuse the bomb and she cuts the wrong damn wire.
Sims: You also give the image of Fonny working on the wood, making his art, special treatment.
Jenkins: For me, talking about Baldwin’s language, I always loved that the book [includes the passage]: Fonny’s working on the wood, it’s a very soft wood, he doesn’t want to defile the wood. It reminded me of making movies. At the point where he’s doing this, he’s at the lowest of lows, in prison. I thought, I want to see this guy work, but the work needs to have an almost heightened quality to it. He’s in this place where he doesn’t have access to sunlight. His flat is a basement apartment. So let’s take the roof off the set and just blast the sun into his workspace.
Sims: To bring it back to Wong Kar-wai, In the Mood for Love has these wordless scenes with the characters carrying noodles, and it always felt like the movie was dancing, almost like waltzing with the audience. That’s how I felt about the woodworking scene.
Jenkins: And by that point, you know the story, you know the characters. It is okay to waltz at that point.
Sims: Baldwin talks about how the work keeps Fonny sane, and keeps him safe.
Jenkins: “He had found his center.”
We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.
DAVID SIMS is a staff writer at The Atlantic, where he covers culture.
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Monday, January 21, 2019
Mary Maydwell Martin - Wikipedia
Mary Maydwell Martin - Wikipedia
Mary Maydwell Martin
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Mary Maydwell Martin (20 July 1915 - 25 January 1973) was an Australian bookseller,[1][2] founder of the Mary Martin Bookshop.[1]
History[edit]
Martin was born in Adelaide to Ernest Montgomerie Martin AMIEE. (1878–1956) and his wife Lorna Gledstanes Martin, née Jacob, (1889–1973), both associated with the Unitarian Christian Church of Wakefield Street. Ernest was a son of vigneron Henry Maydwell Martinand nephew of Anna Montgomerie Martin; Lorna lost two brothers in The Great War; a third was awarded the Military Medal for bravery and later hounded for his Communist sympathies. Educator Caroline Jacob (1861–1940) was a grand-aunt.
In 1945 she founded the Mary Martin Book Shop on Grenfell Street, Adelaide.[1] In 1947 she asked Max Harris to become a partner in the shop, which by then had moved to Alma Chambers, 13 Commercial Place.[1] Harris agreed; he also made a news-sheet which he called Mary's Own Paper, although it contained his own opinions.[1] The shop expanded, and by 1955 it was located at 75 Rundle Street; by 1957 it was in a large part of the first floor of the Da Costa Building, Gawler Place.[1] In 1962 Mary decided to move to India for good, having previously visited there in 1952, 1957, and 1961.[1] Harris became the sole manager of the bookshop, and Mary sold her interests in the firm to him and Yvonne Harris.[1]
After living in Bombay for a time, Mary moved to Bangalore and established an Indian mail-order book business.[1] Her sister Florence managed the finances from Australia.[1]She also sold local arts and crafts to Community Aid Abroad.[1] She hired T. R. Kesavamurthy as a servant, training him to become the manager of her book business.[1]In 1965 she and Kesavamurthy moved to Kotagiri, where she hoped the climate would be good for her asthma.[1] There, in addition to her work with books, she volunteered with the Nilgiris Adivasi Welfare Association.[1] She was appointed the association's honorary treasurer, and wrote its Newsletter.[1]
A dispensary at Balwadi, India, was named after her, and a memorial fund to continue her welfare work was established in Adelaide, Australia.[1]
The Mary Martin chain was sold to Macmillans in the late 1970s.[3] As of 1998 there were four Mary Martin bookshops in Australia, and the Kesavamurthy family ran Mary Martin Booksellers from Coimbatore, India.[1] Mary Martin Booksellers continues now with their Head Office in Singapore.
Mary was also a foundation member of the South Australian branch of the Contemporary Art Society of Australia, and in 1939 won the Tormore prize for English Literature.[1]
References[edit]
^ Jump up to:a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r "Biography - Mary Maydwell Martin - Australian Dictionary of Biography".
^ Wilfrid Prest; Kerrie Round; Carol S. Fort (January 2001). Wakefield Companion to South Australian History. Wakefield Press*. p. 338. ISBN 978-1-86254-558-8.
^ Samela Harris (2012): A life of books – and Mary Martin's AdelaideNow, 2 September 2012. Accessed 5 February 2014.
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