Perez Hilton signs Aussie radio deal

Friday, May 30th, 2008

Hilton, whose real name is Mario Lavandeira, has signed a deal with radio’s Nova Network to dish the dirt on the celebrity world every morning on stations in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide and Perth.

In his first Australian media partnership, Hollywood’s most feared blogger who isn’t afraid to let loose on Nicole Kidman and Cate Blanchett, but can’t say a bad word about Kylie Minogue, will join Nova stations from Monday broadcasting from his Los Angeles bunker.

Hilton launched his hugely popular gossip site four years ago, and has since expanded his media reach through his reality television show, What Perez Sez, and syndicated radio shows in the US and Canada.

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Media swarm around rumoured Beyonce-Jay-Z wedding

Saturday, April 19th, 2008

Throngs of photographers, TV crews and onlookers crowded around the garage entrance to the apartment building in Manhattan%26#39;s Tribeca district where the wedding ceremony was thought to be taking place.
A parade of sport utility vehicles with tinted windows was seen coming and going from the garage late in the afternoon, one of them carrying two people dressed in chef%26#39;s uniforms carrying large, square, white boxes on their laps.
And men dressed in tuxedos were spotted on the roof of the building, where a white tent was erected.
As night fell on the scene, word spread through the crowd that several celebrity guests had been spotted arriving by car, including Beyonce%26#39;s former Destiny%26#39;s Child cohort Kelly Rowland and actress Gwyneth Paltrow.
People magazine touched off the celebrity wedding watch this week when it reported the couple, who have been dating for several years, had taken out a wedding license in Scarsdale Village, New York, that is valid for 60 days.
Gossip blogger Perez Hilton fanned the flames when he reported the wedding would take place on Friday, then followed up by posting the address of Jay-Z%26#39;s apartment house as the location for the nuptials.
Representatives for the pair have declined to comment on the reports, and the internet buzzed with skepticism.
One celebrity website, TMZ.com, questioned whether the apparent wedding preparations might be for another couple in the building. Another site, eVIPlist.com, suggested the whole frenzy was part of a hoax perpetrated by actor and TV prankster Ashton Kutcher.
The camera crews at the scene were undeterred, however.
%26quot;I can%26#39;t believe all the paparazzi. It%26#39;s really exciting,%26quot; said Sydnee White, 17, one several fans mingling with members of the media hoping to catch a glimpse of the stars.
Matrimonial union between Jay-Z, 37, whose real name is Shawn Carter, and Beyonce, 26, also known by her full name Beyonce Knowles, would mark one of the highest-profile celebrity unions in recent years.
The two have been romantically linked since September 2002, and they performed together in music videos for two of her hit singles, Crazy in Love and Deja Vu.
Beyonce rose to fame as a member of the glittery R%26amp;B act Destiny%26#39;s Child but emerged as a superstar in her own right with her big-screen turn as Foxxy Cleopatra in the 2002 film comedy Austin Powers in Goldmember. The following year Beyonce scored a hit with her debut solo album, Dangerously in Love, collecting five Grammys along the way.
The Houston native earned a Golden Globe nomination in 2006 for her role as a Diana Ross-like character in Dreamgirls, a big-screen adaptation of the Broadway hit musical.
Her marriage to Jay-Z comes as the hip-hop artist and record executive is in talks with concert promoter Live Nation for a deal reported to be worth about $US150 million ($NZ193.17 million), rivaling the biggest music contracts ever.
The onetime street hustler from Brooklyn ran the landmark rap label Def Jam Records as president for several years, but stepped down from that post in December.

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Reformed white-trash brawler on the rise

Saturday, April 12th, 2008

From a life of fighting and drinking, former battler
Russell Banks’ novels have a commitment to the lower classes. Ben
Naparstek met him.
In New York’s Algonquin Hotel, where literary giants traded
gossip in the early half of last century, Russell Banks is drinking
red wine. Leftist writers such as Ernest Hemingway and John Dos
Passos mixed in affluent circles far from the working-class
sympathies of their fiction. In so far as they were financially
successful and famous, they found themselves associating with a
very different class from the people they came from or wrote about,
Banks says. “It’s also true of me.”
Banks is best-known for two novels that became Oscar-buzzed
films; Affliction (1989), about a small-town cop driven to
a violent showdown with his abusive father, and The Sweet
Hereafter (1991), a portrait of a hardscrabble community that
loses 14 children in a schoolbus accident.
His 2004 novel, The Darling, is being made into a film
by Martin Scorsese, starring Cate Blanchett as a fugitive activist
who becomes embroiled in the Liberian civil war.
Banks was raised in an impoverished New Hampshire backwater and
his 11 novels are fired by a commitment to the lower classes. His
measured tones betray nothing of his violence as a younger man -
violence he stopped inflicting physically on others in his early
20s, but which manifested as internal rage until his 30s.
He suspects if he hadn’t become a writer he would have faced a
life of petty crime and bar-room brawling - repeating the pattern
of alcoholism and abuse that Banks’ plumber father, Earl, inherited
from his own father.
Banks’ left eyelid droops slightly from a blow inflicted by Earl
when he was two. He doesn’t remember seeing his father sober after
Earl abandoned the family when Banks was 12. His mother, Florence,
was a bookkeeper and also a heavy drinker - a beautiful but
emotionally unstable narcissist. The oldest of four siblings, Banks
became a surrogate father.
Banks stole a car at 16, spending three months on the road
before the police caught up with him in Los Angeles. His
experiences of adolescent homelessness fed into his portrayal of
Chappie, a drug-abusing school drop out, who narrates Rule of
the Bone (1995).
While Banks’ trajectory is a classic story of white trash made
good, his novels are sceptical about the American Dream. His
characters often try to make clean starts, only to find themselves
imprisoned by economic circumstances and re-enacting their damaged
pasts.
At 18, Banks won a scholarship for underprivileged students to
Colgate University, but felt so out of place among the offspring of
captains of industry that he dropped out after eight weeks. “I
wasn’t emotionally mature enough to handle that kind of difference
I was made to feel.” He hightailed it to Miami, Florida, hoping to
travel on to Cuba to enlist with Fidel Castro’s insurgents. “My
politics, love of the underdog, everything could be easily
transferred to Castro and his men.”
Without enough money to get to Cuba, Banks stayed in Florida,
where he worked as a mannequin dresser in a department store. “I
ended up working and living for the first time in a segregated
society. Florida had an apartheid established. I was poor enough
that I could see.”
By 19, Banks was married, and had a daughter, Lea, the following
year. But at 21, like his father before him, he deserted his
family. “Of the few things I regret, that’s one of them. But I
hadn’t a clue. I was stuck with a job I was not capable of
performing.” Lea re-entered Banks’ life in her mid-teens after she
fell out with her mother, just as Banks was reunited with his
father when he returned to New Hampshire, at various points, to
work alongside Earl as a plumber and pipe-fitter.
Banks married again at 23, to a Southerner with whom he had
three more daughters. The couple moved to Chapel Hill, where Banks
attended the University of North Carolina - the only Southern
university of its calibre that was racially integrated and co-ed.
Immediately swept up in anti-segregation demonstrations, he was
jailed a day after arriving in the city. “What am I going to do?
Drive by and wave? No, you end up picking up a sign and walking
along with it.”
He explains his involvement with the civil rights movement as “a
displacement of anger from my own personal and familial dynamic
onto a political context. But it was also a way of expressing that
big, romantic identification with the underdog - the early longing
to run off and join Castro - and giving it a more coherent and
useful shape.”
When Jack Kerouac, then 45, passed through Chapel Hill, Banks
hosted a party for the Beat writer at his home that lasted a week.
“He was a hero for many of us, and here he was slightly mad and
certainly physically ill, alcoholic and dying.”
The Beats inspired him - not their writing, but their
rebelliousness. “The 1950s was a very buttoned-up time in the US -
sexually repressed, socially conformist, politically still under
the cloud of McCarthyism. And here came these free-wheeling
spirits, breaking down all those barriers.”
Banks has written a screenplay of Kerouac’s On the
Road, for a film to be directed by Walter Salles (of The
Motorcycle Diaries fame). He sees On the Road as a
story of the loss of American innocence, rather than merely the
defining novel of the Beat Generation. “It’s set in 1948, which we
often forget because it wasn’t published until 1957. It’s a postwar
novel.”
At 33, Banks stopped working in blue-collar jobs, finally able
to support himself through teaching and writing. Writing wasn’t
cathartic, he says, but the rigour helped stabilise him. “It could
have been Zen buddhism or psychoanalysis. Any ongoing discipline
which required my special attention would have been
sufficient.”
The outrage at racial discrimination first experienced in
Florida remained with Banks, who sees race as “the central story in
America - in the American imagination and mythology”.
A year-and-a-half spent with his family in Jamaica spawned
The Book of Jamaica (1980), about a white American
professor who travels to Jamaica to complete a novel. “It was very
important for me - getting out of the country and looking back.
Very few white people were there then. It made me understand much
better the whole history of race in the Western hemisphere.”
Continental Drift (1985) follows an oil-burner
repairman from New Hampshire who becomes involved in the plight of
a Haitian refugee. In Cloudsplitter (1998), Banks
reimagines the life of abolitionist John Brown, whose role in
attacking Harpers Ferry in 1859 is sometimes credited with starting
the Civil War. “Most African-Americans regard John Brown as a hero
of the first magnitude who gave his life to free the slaves, and
most white Americans regard him as a terrorist and madman.”
With Cloudsplitter, Banks’ fictional terrain expanded
beyond gritty depictions of small-town life to become preoccupied
with history. Both The Darling and The Reserve
have female protagonists, and Banks says his concerns are no longer
exclusively male. “I don’t want to do a father-and-son story or a
conflicted working guy’s life again. I want to explore other
mysteries.” His next novel will investigate internet pornography
and the Iraq War.
Hollywood will surely snaffle film rights to his new novel,
The Reserve, a noir thriller set in 1936, which makes nods
to flicks such as The Petrified Forest and James M. Cain’s
novel Double Indemnity. Banks transplants noir conventions
from their typical urban setting into the Adirondack Mountains of
upstate New York, where he’s lived for two decades with his fourth
wife, poet Chase Twitchell.
The Reserve unfolds over one summer on a private resort
for old-moneyed vacationers, revolving around the affair between
left-wing artist Jordan Groves and femme fatale Vanessa Cole. The
philandering Groves, who resents the plutocratic world that made
him famous, was partly modelled on the radical artist and
adventurer Rockwell Kent. Vanessa, a beautiful but unstable
heiress, was loosely based on one of Hemingway’s paramours - a
married woman who inspired his 1937 novel To Have and Have
Not.
Creating Vanessa was technically and emotionally challenging.
“Trying to portray a full-blown narcissist in fiction is very
difficult. There’s no interior to a narcissistic consciousness.
Everything is reflected. For her, the question of lying or not
lying, truth or falsehood, is non-existent; you can’t be a liar
unless you know what the truth is. It was a little scary.”
Scary, perhaps, because of how Vanessa recalls his description
of his own mother? Banks passes on the question.
Banks sees the novel’s backdrop of rising European fascism as
eerily topical. “In 1936, very few Americans were conscious of its
implications. There was considerable support for Franco and
Mussolini and Hitler. Now in the United States, it’s a different
kind of fascism, but, in a similar way, very few of us are aware of
it.”
The social stratification described in The Reserve
persists in the Adirondacks today. The locals, sometimes living in
trailers, often scramble to make ends meet; the wealthy outsiders
visit for their summer holidays before returning home, leaving
widespread joblessness in their wake. Unemployment in the winter is
20%.
After emptying his second wineglass, he gets up to leave. And
Banks - man of the people and literary titan - leaves the historic
haunt of intellectual New York great and good to return to his
hotel-room to watch the football.
The Reserve is published by Bloomsbury at
$35.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Related posts

Reformed white-trash brawler on the rise

Friday, April 11th, 2008

From a life of fighting and drinking, former battler
Russell Banks’ novels have a commitment to the lower classes. Ben
Naparstek met him.
In New York’s Algonquin Hotel, where literary giants traded
gossip in the early half of last century, Russell Banks is drinking
red wine. Leftist writers such as Ernest Hemingway and John Dos
Passos mixed in affluent circles far from the working-class
sympathies of their fiction. In so far as they were financially
successful and famous, they found themselves associating with a
very different class from the people they came from or wrote about,
Banks says. “It’s also true of me.”
Banks is best-known for two novels that became Oscar-buzzed
films; Affliction (1989), about a small-town cop driven to
a violent showdown with his abusive father, and The Sweet
Hereafter (1991), a portrait of a hardscrabble community that
loses 14 children in a schoolbus accident.
His 2004 novel, The Darling, is being made into a film
by Martin Scorsese, starring Cate Blanchett as a fugitive activist
who becomes embroiled in the Liberian civil war.
Banks was raised in an impoverished New Hampshire backwater and
his 11 novels are fired by a commitment to the lower classes. His
measured tones betray nothing of his violence as a younger man -
violence he stopped inflicting physically on others in his early
20s, but which manifested as internal rage until his 30s.
He suspects if he hadn’t become a writer he would have faced a
life of petty crime and bar-room brawling - repeating the pattern
of alcoholism and abuse that Banks’ plumber father, Earl, inherited
from his own father.
Banks’ left eyelid droops slightly from a blow inflicted by Earl
when he was two. He doesn’t remember seeing his father sober after
Earl abandoned the family when Banks was 12. His mother, Florence,
was a bookkeeper and also a heavy drinker - a beautiful but
emotionally unstable narcissist. The oldest of four siblings, Banks
became a surrogate father.
Banks stole a car at 16, spending three months on the road
before the police caught up with him in Los Angeles. His
experiences of adolescent homelessness fed into his portrayal of
Chappie, a drug-abusing school drop out, who narrates Rule of
the Bone (1995).
While Banks’ trajectory is a classic story of white trash made
good, his novels are sceptical about the American Dream. His
characters often try to make clean starts, only to find themselves
imprisoned by economic circumstances and re-enacting their damaged
pasts.
At 18, Banks won a scholarship for underprivileged students to
Colgate University, but felt so out of place among the offspring of
captains of industry that he dropped out after eight weeks. “I
wasn’t emotionally mature enough to handle that kind of difference
I was made to feel.” He hightailed it to Miami, Florida, hoping to
travel on to Cuba to enlist with Fidel Castro’s insurgents. “My
politics, love of the underdog, everything could be easily
transferred to Castro and his men.”
Without enough money to get to Cuba, Banks stayed in Florida,
where he worked as a mannequin dresser in a department store. “I
ended up working and living for the first time in a segregated
society. Florida had an apartheid established. I was poor enough
that I could see.”
By 19, Banks was married, and had a daughter, Lea, the following
year. But at 21, like his father before him, he deserted his
family. “Of the few things I regret, that’s one of them. But I
hadn’t a clue. I was stuck with a job I was not capable of
performing.” Lea re-entered Banks’ life in her mid-teens after she
fell out with her mother, just as Banks was reunited with his
father when he returned to New Hampshire, at various points, to
work alongside Earl as a plumber and pipe-fitter.
Banks married again at 23, to a Southerner with whom he had
three more daughters. The couple moved to Chapel Hill, where Banks
attended the University of North Carolina - the only Southern
university of its calibre that was racially integrated and co-ed.
Immediately swept up in anti-segregation demonstrations, he was
jailed a day after arriving in the city. “What am I going to do?
Drive by and wave? No, you end up picking up a sign and walking
along with it.”
He explains his involvement with the civil rights movement as “a
displacement of anger from my own personal and familial dynamic
onto a political context. But it was also a way of expressing that
big, romantic identification with the underdog - the early longing
to run off and join Castro - and giving it a more coherent and
useful shape.”
When Jack Kerouac, then 45, passed through Chapel Hill, Banks
hosted a party for the Beat writer at his home that lasted a week.
“He was a hero for many of us, and here he was slightly mad and
certainly physically ill, alcoholic and dying.”
The Beats inspired him - not their writing, but their
rebelliousness. “The 1950s was a very buttoned-up time in the US -
sexually repressed, socially conformist, politically still under
the cloud of McCarthyism. And here came these free-wheeling
spirits, breaking down all those barriers.”
Banks has written a screenplay of Kerouac’s On the
Road, for a film to be directed by Walter Salles (of The
Motorcycle Diaries fame). He sees On the Road as a
story of the loss of American innocence, rather than merely the
defining novel of the Beat Generation. “It’s set in 1948, which we
often forget because it wasn’t published until 1957. It’s a postwar
novel.”
At 33, Banks stopped working in blue-collar jobs, finally able
to support himself through teaching and writing. Writing wasn’t
cathartic, he says, but the rigour helped stabilise him. “It could
have been Zen buddhism or psychoanalysis. Any ongoing discipline
which required my special attention would have been
sufficient.”
The outrage at racial discrimination first experienced in
Florida remained with Banks, who sees race as “the central story in
America - in the American imagination and mythology”.
A year-and-a-half spent with his family in Jamaica spawned
The Book of Jamaica (1980), about a white American
professor who travels to Jamaica to complete a novel. “It was very
important for me - getting out of the country and looking back.
Very few white people were there then. It made me understand much
better the whole history of race in the Western hemisphere.”
Continental Drift (1985) follows an oil-burner
repairman from New Hampshire who becomes involved in the plight of
a Haitian refugee. In Cloudsplitter (1998), Banks
reimagines the life of abolitionist John Brown, whose role in
attacking Harpers Ferry in 1859 is sometimes credited with starting
the Civil War. “Most African-Americans regard John Brown as a hero
of the first magnitude who gave his life to free the slaves, and
most white Americans regard him as a terrorist and madman.”
With Cloudsplitter, Banks’ fictional terrain expanded
beyond gritty depictions of small-town life to become preoccupied
with history. Both The Darling and The Reserve
have female protagonists, and Banks says his concerns are no longer
exclusively male. “I don’t want to do a father-and-son story or a
conflicted working guy’s life again. I want to explore other
mysteries.” His next novel will investigate internet pornography
and the Iraq War.
Hollywood will surely snaffle film rights to his new novel,
The Reserve, a noir thriller set in 1936, which makes nods
to flicks such as The Petrified Forest and James M. Cain’s
novel Double Indemnity. Banks transplants noir conventions
from their typical urban setting into the Adirondack Mountains of
upstate New York, where he’s lived for two decades with his fourth
wife, poet Chase Twitchell.
The Reserve unfolds over one summer on a private resort
for old-moneyed vacationers, revolving around the affair between
left-wing artist Jordan Groves and femme fatale Vanessa Cole. The
philandering Groves, who resents the plutocratic world that made
him famous, was partly modelled on the radical artist and
adventurer Rockwell Kent. Vanessa, a beautiful but unstable
heiress, was loosely based on one of Hemingway’s paramours - a
married woman who inspired his 1937 novel To Have and Have
Not.
Creating Vanessa was technically and emotionally challenging.
“Trying to portray a full-blown narcissist in fiction is very
difficult. There’s no interior to a narcissistic consciousness.
Everything is reflected. For her, the question of lying or not
lying, truth or falsehood, is non-existent; you can’t be a liar
unless you know what the truth is. It was a little scary.”
Scary, perhaps, because of how Vanessa recalls his description
of his own mother? Banks passes on the question.
Banks sees the novel’s backdrop of rising European fascism as
eerily topical. “In 1936, very few Americans were conscious of its
implications. There was considerable support for Franco and
Mussolini and Hitler. Now in the United States, it’s a different
kind of fascism, but, in a similar way, very few of us are aware of
it.”
The social stratification described in The Reserve
persists in the Adirondacks today. The locals, sometimes living in
trailers, often scramble to make ends meet; the wealthy outsiders
visit for their summer holidays before returning home, leaving
widespread joblessness in their wake. Unemployment in the winter is
20%.
After emptying his second wineglass, he gets up to leave. And
Banks - man of the people and literary titan - leaves the historic
haunt of intellectual New York great and good to return to his
hotel-room to watch the football.
The Reserve is published by Bloomsbury at
$35.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Related posts

Reformed white-trash brawler on the rise

Friday, April 11th, 2008

From a life of fighting and drinking, former battler
Russell Banks’ novels have a commitment to the lower classes. Ben
Naparstek met him.
In New York’s Algonquin Hotel, where literary giants traded
gossip in the early half of last century, Russell Banks is drinking
red wine. Leftist writers such as Ernest Hemingway and John Dos
Passos mixed in affluent circles far from the working-class
sympathies of their fiction. In so far as they were financially
successful and famous, they found themselves associating with a
very different class from the people they came from or wrote about,
Banks says. “It’s also true of me.”
Banks is best-known for two novels that became Oscar-buzzed
films; Affliction (1989), about a small-town cop driven to
a violent showdown with his abusive father, and The Sweet
Hereafter (1991), a portrait of a hardscrabble community that
loses 14 children in a schoolbus accident.
His 2004 novel, The Darling, is being made into a film
by Martin Scorsese, starring Cate Blanchett as a fugitive activist
who becomes embroiled in the Liberian civil war.
Banks was raised in an impoverished New Hampshire backwater and
his 11 novels are fired by a commitment to the lower classes. His
measured tones betray nothing of his violence as a younger man -
violence he stopped inflicting physically on others in his early
20s, but which manifested as internal rage until his 30s.
He suspects if he hadn’t become a writer he would have faced a
life of petty crime and bar-room brawling - repeating the pattern
of alcoholism and abuse that Banks’ plumber father, Earl, inherited
from his own father.
Banks’ left eyelid droops slightly from a blow inflicted by Earl
when he was two. He doesn’t remember seeing his father sober after
Earl abandoned the family when Banks was 12. His mother, Florence,
was a bookkeeper and also a heavy drinker - a beautiful but
emotionally unstable narcissist. The oldest of four siblings, Banks
became a surrogate father.
Banks stole a car at 16, spending three months on the road
before the police caught up with him in Los Angeles. His
experiences of adolescent homelessness fed into his portrayal of
Chappie, a drug-abusing school drop out, who narrates Rule of
the Bone (1995).
While Banks’ trajectory is a classic story of white trash made
good, his novels are sceptical about the American Dream. His
characters often try to make clean starts, only to find themselves
imprisoned by economic circumstances and re-enacting their damaged
pasts.
At 18, Banks won a scholarship for underprivileged students to
Colgate University, but felt so out of place among the offspring of
captains of industry that he dropped out after eight weeks. “I
wasn’t emotionally mature enough to handle that kind of difference
I was made to feel.” He hightailed it to Miami, Florida, hoping to
travel on to Cuba to enlist with Fidel Castro’s insurgents. “My
politics, love of the underdog, everything could be easily
transferred to Castro and his men.”
Without enough money to get to Cuba, Banks stayed in Florida,
where he worked as a mannequin dresser in a department store. “I
ended up working and living for the first time in a segregated
society. Florida had an apartheid established. I was poor enough
that I could see.”
By 19, Banks was married, and had a daughter, Lea, the following
year. But at 21, like his father before him, he deserted his
family. “Of the few things I regret, that’s one of them. But I
hadn’t a clue. I was stuck with a job I was not capable of
performing.” Lea re-entered Banks’ life in her mid-teens after she
fell out with her mother, just as Banks was reunited with his
father when he returned to New Hampshire, at various points, to
work alongside Earl as a plumber and pipe-fitter.
Banks married again at 23, to a Southerner with whom he had
three more daughters. The couple moved to Chapel Hill, where Banks
attended the University of North Carolina - the only Southern
university of its calibre that was racially integrated and co-ed.
Immediately swept up in anti-segregation demonstrations, he was
jailed a day after arriving in the city. “What am I going to do?
Drive by and wave? No, you end up picking up a sign and walking
along with it.”
He explains his involvement with the civil rights movement as “a
displacement of anger from my own personal and familial dynamic
onto a political context. But it was also a way of expressing that
big, romantic identification with the underdog - the early longing
to run off and join Castro - and giving it a more coherent and
useful shape.”
When Jack Kerouac, then 45, passed through Chapel Hill, Banks
hosted a party for the Beat writer at his home that lasted a week.
“He was a hero for many of us, and here he was slightly mad and
certainly physically ill, alcoholic and dying.”
The Beats inspired him - not their writing, but their
rebelliousness. “The 1950s was a very buttoned-up time in the US -
sexually repressed, socially conformist, politically still under
the cloud of McCarthyism. And here came these free-wheeling
spirits, breaking down all those barriers.”
Banks has written a screenplay of Kerouac’s On the
Road, for a film to be directed by Walter Salles (of The
Motorcycle Diaries fame). He sees On the Road as a
story of the loss of American innocence, rather than merely the
defining novel of the Beat Generation. “It’s set in 1948, which we
often forget because it wasn’t published until 1957. It’s a postwar
novel.”
At 33, Banks stopped working in blue-collar jobs, finally able
to support himself through teaching and writing. Writing wasn’t
cathartic, he says, but the rigour helped stabilise him. “It could
have been Zen buddhism or psychoanalysis. Any ongoing discipline
which required my special attention would have been
sufficient.”
The outrage at racial discrimination first experienced in
Florida remained with Banks, who sees race as “the central story in
America - in the American imagination and mythology”.
A year-and-a-half spent with his family in Jamaica spawned
The Book of Jamaica (1980), about a white American
professor who travels to Jamaica to complete a novel. “It was very
important for me - getting out of the country and looking back.
Very few white people were there then. It made me understand much
better the whole history of race in the Western hemisphere.”
Continental Drift (1985) follows an oil-burner
repairman from New Hampshire who becomes involved in the plight of
a Haitian refugee. In Cloudsplitter (1998), Banks
reimagines the life of abolitionist John Brown, whose role in
attacking Harpers Ferry in 1859 is sometimes credited with starting
the Civil War. “Most African-Americans regard John Brown as a hero
of the first magnitude who gave his life to free the slaves, and
most white Americans regard him as a terrorist and madman.”
With Cloudsplitter, Banks’ fictional terrain expanded
beyond gritty depictions of small-town life to become preoccupied
with history. Both The Darling and The Reserve
have female protagonists, and Banks says his concerns are no longer
exclusively male. “I don’t want to do a father-and-son story or a
conflicted working guy’s life again. I want to explore other
mysteries.” His next novel will investigate internet pornography
and the Iraq War.
Hollywood will surely snaffle film rights to his new novel,
The Reserve, a noir thriller set in 1936, which makes nods
to flicks such as The Petrified Forest and James M. Cain’s
novel Double Indemnity. Banks transplants noir conventions
from their typical urban setting into the Adirondack Mountains of
upstate New York, where he’s lived for two decades with his fourth
wife, poet Chase Twitchell.
The Reserve unfolds over one summer on a private resort
for old-moneyed vacationers, revolving around the affair between
left-wing artist Jordan Groves and femme fatale Vanessa Cole. The
philandering Groves, who resents the plutocratic world that made
him famous, was partly modelled on the radical artist and
adventurer Rockwell Kent. Vanessa, a beautiful but unstable
heiress, was loosely based on one of Hemingway’s paramours - a
married woman who inspired his 1937 novel To Have and Have
Not.
Creating Vanessa was technically and emotionally challenging.
“Trying to portray a full-blown narcissist in fiction is very
difficult. There’s no interior to a narcissistic consciousness.
Everything is reflected. For her, the question of lying or not
lying, truth or falsehood, is non-existent; you can’t be a liar
unless you know what the truth is. It was a little scary.”
Scary, perhaps, because of how Vanessa recalls his description
of his own mother? Banks passes on the question.
Banks sees the novel’s backdrop of rising European fascism as
eerily topical. “In 1936, very few Americans were conscious of its
implications. There was considerable support for Franco and
Mussolini and Hitler. Now in the United States, it’s a different
kind of fascism, but, in a similar way, very few of us are aware of
it.”
The social stratification described in The Reserve
persists in the Adirondacks today. The locals, sometimes living in
trailers, often scramble to make ends meet; the wealthy outsiders
visit for their summer holidays before returning home, leaving
widespread joblessness in their wake. Unemployment in the winter is
20%.
After emptying his second wineglass, he gets up to leave. And
Banks - man of the people and literary titan - leaves the historic
haunt of intellectual New York great and good to return to his
hotel-room to watch the football.
The Reserve is published by Bloomsbury at
$35.

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Much ado about NIDA’s direction

Saturday, March 22nd, 2008

The secret plottings at Elsinore. The clash of ambitions in the
court of King Lear. The deadly rivalry of the Montagues and
Capulets. All familiar theatrical scenarios to the students and
staff of Australia’s leading acting school.
But the National Institute of Dramatic Art has seen them all in
a more intimate way in the past four years. Not so much on stage as
in-house.
The school, based at the University of NSW campus in Kensington,
has been swept up in an intense but secret battle over the
leadership of the institution, which is funded by the federal
government and counts among its alumni such actors and directors as
Cate Blanchett, Baz Luhrmann, Judy Davis, Mel Gibson and Hugo
Weaving.
The private machinations were partly revealed late last month
when Neil Armfield, the artistic director of Company B in Sydney,
wrote to NIDA’s chairman, Malcolm Long. His co-signatories were 20
other artistic directors, actors and film directors from all over
the country. These future employers of NIDA students protested
about the way in which the school’s board had failed to renew the
term of its immediate past director, Aubrey Mellor, calling his
imminent departure an “apparent dismissal”.
They suggested that Mellor continue in his past role as artistic
director, with a “strong and supportive” chief executive - the key
word being “supportive”. This referred to the past few years at
NIDA when Elizabeth Butcher, general manager for the past 39 years,
was often at odds with Mellor.
The former chairwoman of NIDA, the Sydney businesswoman Jillian
Broadbent, used to refer to the pair as lacking “synergy”.
Replying to Armfield early this month, Long maintained that
Mellor was not dismissed but had simply reached the end of his
contract. No mention, then, that Mellor had been on a year-to-year
contract, had no recent performance review and was told only one
month before his final contract ended in December last year that it
was curtains for him.
Long, the former executive director of the Australian Film
Television and Radio School, also sent Armfield a two-page letter
distributed to NIDA staff and students late last year, outlining
the board’s decision to overhaul its structure by appointing a
single director-chief executive, in place of the past pairing of a
director largely with artistic responsibilities and a general
manager. (Nevertheless, the position of general manager was to
remain, with he or she reporting to the new boss.)
The new director-chief executive will need to be superhuman,
combining “artistic and educational vision” with a track record in
“strategic leadership and management”.
Long’s letter did not address the proposed leadership structure
suggested in the protest letter.
Last week, Mellor, 60, applied for the new position but it seems
he has little chance of success if NIDA’s 11-member board of
directors stands by the present job requirements.
Said Armfield: “There are major administrative problems in
running a place like that, and that’s not Aubrey’s skill. He is not
that politically savvy. He needs someone beside him.
“But he has the loyalty of just about every actor in Australia.
He loves and understands the art of acting.”
Judy Davis, the actor, former NIDA board member and signatory to
Armfield’s letter, agrees. In her student years at the school,
Mellor had been “a wonderful teacher %26#133; Aubrey was the reason
that made my time worthwhile there”, she said. “I’m not sure I
would have got through it without Aubrey.”
But Mellor’s role is just one strand in the complex recent
history of NIDA.
Just as important is the involvement of Elizabeth Butcher, 69,
NIDA’s general manager for almost four decades, and John Clark, 75,
the director for 35 years.
Immersed in NIDA’s past, the pair seem reluctant to let go.
Although he retired as director in 2004, Clark joined the board
of NIDA two years later.
Attempts by the board to negotiate Butcher’s exit over time
ended in tears for all concerned. Literally.
Both Broadbent, the then chairwoman, and Butcher were deeply
distressed over the aborted plans for Butcher’s departure. Last
year, Broadbent quit as chairwoman, leaving Butcher in situ.
Butcher joined NIDA as bursar in 1969, a decade after it was
founded. In the same year, Clark became NIDA’s director.
Over time, Butcher became the mother hen of the organisation,
involving herself in both the detail and the big picture - from
students’ scholarships to helping staff with parking fines, but
also overseeing funding and the big move to new premises in the
1980s.
During that decade, some board members attempted to initiate
regular audits of NIDA’s activities and to institute other reforms,
but they were in a minority. No one wanted to upset the boss -
Butcher.
The board continued in its own stately way. Malcolm Chaikin was
chairman for 13 years until he found his own replacement in Dame
Leonie Kramer.
With the exception of the university representative on the
board, at present Professor Tony Dooley, NIDA directors are
appointed by a body known as the NIDA “company”.
This is a rather incestuous system, as the company, made up of
about 100 members, is largely “a bunch of people who have been on
the board”, Chaikin said.
The NIDA company played an important role in the recent NIDA
troubles.
In 2001, David Gonski, a powerful city networker and founder of
the investment bank Investec, became chairman of NIDA. It is
understood that by 2003 he had worked out with Clark the timing of
Clark’s retirement.
That year, when Clark turned 70, he signalled his departure from
NIDA, telling the media “it’s time, it’s just time”.
A selection committee deciding on his successor unanimously
chose Mellor, a former NIDA student and teacher and then director
of Melbourne’s Playbox Theatre.
Butcher made her feelings known, arguing strongly against
Mellor. Both she and Clark had hoped the new director would be the
theatre director Gale Edwards.
Early in 2005, when Mellor took up the job, he was led to
believe that Butcher would retire in six months. Gonski might have
overseen her retirement. However, he resigned in August 2005, when
he became chancellor of the University of NSW.
The new chairwoman was his colleague, Jillian Broadbent, who sat
on several company boards and is a director of the Reserve
Bank.
The following year was a tough one. In September 2006, Clark,
with help from the members of the NIDA company, was elected to the
board. This was unsettling for Broadbent. She asked that Clark’s
first loyalty be to the board and that he distance himself from key
appointments.
At a board meeting held soon after, all NIDA directors - except
Clark, who did not attend - discussed a phased retirement plan for
Butcher.
After the meeting, Broadbent told Butcher that the board had
made a unanimous decision: it wanted to work out a timetable for
Butcher’s retirement. Butcher took alarm. Was she being sacked?
Loyal staff rallied to her support; petitions were signed in her
favour. A vote of no confidence in the board was mooted.
It was as if Butcher felt she had to save NIDA.
Some NIDA staff members blamed Mellor, thinking he must have
been the trigger for the board’s decision.
At a meeting called to calm the staff, Broadbent explained her
position while the deputy chairman, Bruce Cutler, a former managing
partner of the law firm Freehills, said half-jokingly that in terms
of handling Butcher’s retirement plans, “we f—ed up”.
Butcher is understood to have approached members of the NIDA
company for help, among them the former senator Chris Puplick, a
friend of Clark and former NIDA director.
Puplick discussed Butcher with Broadbent and while no one will
comment on that conversation, it is understood that Puplick
suggested Butcher’s supporters might go to the media.
In April last year, before NIDA’s annual general meeting,
Puplick wrote to NIDA members nominating himself as a director of
the board.
He was elected at the annual meeting on May 15. On the same day,
Broadbent retired from the board, to be replaced by Long.
Last week, Butcher told the Herald, “I will be retiring
some time later this year”, although she would be staying on for
about six months “to see the new person in” and will oversee the
organisation’s 50th anniversary celebrations next year.
Mellor is still at NIDA, under contract until June as “special
projects manager”.
Puplick said this week he had no comment. “I don’t want to add
to the rumour and gossip-mongering.”
Meaning he can’t discuss it?
“I won’t discuss it.”
NIDA, meanwhile, is inviting the public to its next open day, in
May, with its website announcing that “once in every two years,
NIDA opens its doors and invites you to explore. Satisfy your
intrigue and find out what goes on in the studios and theatres of
Australia’s most prestigious performing arts school.”
No indication, though, that the offices and boardroom will be
open for exploration.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Related posts

Much ado about NIDA’s direction

Wednesday, March 19th, 2008

The secret plottings at Elsinore. The clash of ambitions in the
court of King Lear. The deadly rivalry of the Montagues and
Capulets. All familiar theatrical scenarios to the students and
staff of Australia’s leading acting school.
But the National Institute of Dramatic Art has seen them all in
a more intimate way in the past four years. Not so much on stage as
in-house.
The school, based at the University of NSW campus in Kensington,
has been swept up in an intense but secret battle over the
leadership of the institution, which is funded by the federal
government and counts among its alumni such actors and directors as
Cate Blanchett, Baz Luhrmann, Judy Davis, Mel Gibson and Hugo
Weaving.
The private machinations were partly revealed late last month
when Neil Armfield, the artistic director of Company B in Sydney,
wrote to NIDA’s chairman, Malcolm Long. His co-signatories were 20
other artistic directors, actors and film directors from all over
the country. These future employers of NIDA students protested
about the way in which the school’s board had failed to renew the
term of its immediate past director, Aubrey Mellor, calling his
imminent departure an “apparent dismissal”.
They suggested that Mellor continue in his past role as artistic
director, with a “strong and supportive” chief executive - the key
word being “supportive”. This referred to the past few years at
NIDA when Elizabeth Butcher, general manager for the past 39 years,
was often at odds with Mellor.
The former chairwoman of NIDA, the Sydney businesswoman Jillian
Broadbent, used to refer to the pair as lacking “synergy”.
Replying to Armfield early this month, Long maintained that
Mellor was not dismissed but had simply reached the end of his
contract. No mention, then, that Mellor had been on a year-to-year
contract, had no recent performance review and was told only one
month before his final contract ended in December last year that it
was curtains for him.
Long, the former executive director of the Australian Film
Television and Radio School, also sent Armfield a two-page letter
distributed to NIDA staff and students late last year, outlining
the board’s decision to overhaul its structure by appointing a
single director-chief executive, in place of the past pairing of a
director largely with artistic responsibilities and a general
manager. (Nevertheless, the position of general manager was to
remain, with he or she reporting to the new boss.)
The new director-chief executive will need to be superhuman,
combining “artistic and educational vision” with a track record in
“strategic leadership and management”.
Long’s letter did not address the proposed leadership structure
suggested in the protest letter.
Last week, Mellor, 60, applied for the new position but it seems
he has little chance of success if NIDA’s 11-member board of
directors stands by the present job requirements.
Said Armfield: “There are major administrative problems in
running a place like that, and that’s not Aubrey’s skill. He is not
that politically savvy. He needs someone beside him.
“But he has the loyalty of just about every actor in Australia.
He loves and understands the art of acting.”
Judy Davis, the actor, former NIDA board member and signatory to
Armfield’s letter, agrees. In her student years at the school,
Mellor had been “a wonderful teacher %26#133; Aubrey was the reason
that made my time worthwhile there”, she said. “I’m not sure I
would have got through it without Aubrey.”
But Mellor’s role is just one strand in the complex recent
history of NIDA.
Just as important is the involvement of Elizabeth Butcher, 69,
NIDA’s general manager for almost four decades, and John Clark, 75,
the director for 35 years.
Immersed in NIDA’s past, the pair seem reluctant to let go.
Although he retired as director in 2004, Clark joined the board
of NIDA two years later.
Attempts by the board to negotiate Butcher’s exit over time
ended in tears for all concerned. Literally.
Both Broadbent, the then chairwoman, and Butcher were deeply
distressed over the aborted plans for Butcher’s departure. Last
year, Broadbent quit as chairwoman, leaving Butcher in situ.
Butcher joined NIDA as bursar in 1969, a decade after it was
founded. In the same year, Clark became NIDA’s director.
Over time, Butcher became the mother hen of the organisation,
involving herself in both the detail and the big picture - from
students’ scholarships to helping staff with parking fines, but
also overseeing funding and the big move to new premises in the
1980s.
During that decade, some board members attempted to initiate
regular audits of NIDA’s activities and to institute other reforms,
but they were in a minority. No one wanted to upset the boss -
Butcher.
The board continued in its own stately way. Malcolm Chaikin was
chairman for 13 years until he found his own replacement in Dame
Leonie Kramer.
With the exception of the university representative on the
board, at present Professor Tony Dooley, NIDA directors are
appointed by a body known as the NIDA “company”.
This is a rather incestuous system, as the company, made up of
about 100 members, is largely “a bunch of people who have been on
the board”, Chaikin said.
The NIDA company played an important role in the recent NIDA
troubles.
In 2001, David Gonski, a powerful city networker and founder of
the investment bank Investec, became chairman of NIDA. It is
understood that by 2003 he had worked out with Clark the timing of
Clark’s retirement.
That year, when Clark turned 70, he signalled his departure from
NIDA, telling the media “it’s time, it’s just time”.
A selection committee deciding on his successor unanimously
chose Mellor, a former NIDA student and teacher and then director
of Melbourne’s Playbox Theatre.
Butcher made her feelings known, arguing strongly against
Mellor. Both she and Clark had hoped the new director would be the
theatre director Gale Edwards.
Early in 2005, when Mellor took up the job, he was led to
believe that Butcher would retire in six months. Gonski might have
overseen her retirement. However, he resigned in August 2005, when
he became chancellor of the University of NSW.
The new chairwoman was his colleague, Jillian Broadbent, who sat
on several company boards and is a director of the Reserve
Bank.
The following year was a tough one. In September 2006, Clark,
with help from the members of the NIDA company, was elected to the
board. This was unsettling for Broadbent. She asked that Clark’s
first loyalty be to the board and that he distance himself from key
appointments.
At a board meeting held soon after, all NIDA directors - except
Clark, who did not attend - discussed a phased retirement plan for
Butcher.
After the meeting, Broadbent told Butcher that the board had
made a unanimous decision: it wanted to work out a timetable for
Butcher’s retirement. Butcher took alarm. Was she being sacked?
Loyal staff rallied to her support; petitions were signed in her
favour. A vote of no confidence in the board was mooted.
It was as if Butcher felt she had to save NIDA.
Some NIDA staff members blamed Mellor, thinking he must have
been the trigger for the board’s decision.
At a meeting called to calm the staff, Broadbent explained her
position while the deputy chairman, Bruce Cutler, a former managing
partner of the law firm Freehills, said half-jokingly that in terms
of handling Butcher’s retirement plans, “we f—ed up”.
Butcher is understood to have approached members of the NIDA
company for help, among them the former senator Chris Puplick, a
friend of Clark and former NIDA director.
Puplick discussed Butcher with Broadbent and while no one will
comment on that conversation, it is understood that Puplick
suggested Butcher’s supporters might go to the media.
In April last year, before NIDA’s annual general meeting,
Puplick wrote to NIDA members nominating himself as a director of
the board.
He was elected at the annual meeting on May 15. On the same day,
Broadbent retired from the board, to be replaced by Long.
Last week, Butcher told the Herald, “I will be retiring
some time later this year”, although she would be staying on for
about six months “to see the new person in” and will oversee the
organisation’s 50th anniversary celebrations next year.
Mellor is still at NIDA, under contract until June as “special
projects manager”.
Puplick said this week he had no comment. “I don’t want to add
to the rumour and gossip-mongering.”
Meaning he can’t discuss it?
“I won’t discuss it.”
NIDA, meanwhile, is inviting the public to its next open day, in
May, with its website announcing that “once in every two years,
NIDA opens its doors and invites you to explore. Satisfy your
intrigue and find out what goes on in the studios and theatres of
Australia’s most prestigious performing arts school.”
No indication, though, that the offices and boardroom will be
open for exploration.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Related posts

Much ado about NIDA’s direction

Tuesday, March 18th, 2008

The secret plottings at Elsinore. The clash of ambitions in the
court of King Lear. The deadly rivalry of the Montagues and
Capulets. All familiar theatrical scenarios to the students and
staff of Australia’s leading acting school.
But the National Institute of Dramatic Art has seen them all in
a more intimate way in the past four years. Not so much on stage as
in-house.
The school, based at the University of NSW campus in Kensington,
has been swept up in an intense but secret battle over the
leadership of the institution, which is funded by the federal
government and counts among its alumni such actors and directors as
Cate Blanchett, Baz Luhrmann, Judy Davis, Mel Gibson and Hugo
Weaving.
The private machinations were partly revealed late last month
when Neil Armfield, the artistic director of Company B in Sydney,
wrote to NIDA’s chairman, Malcolm Long. His co-signatories were 20
other artistic directors, actors and film directors from all over
the country. These future employers of NIDA students protested
about the way in which the school’s board had failed to renew the
term of its immediate past director, Aubrey Mellor, calling his
imminent departure an “apparent dismissal”.
They suggested that Mellor continue in his past role as artistic
director, with a “strong and supportive” chief executive - the key
word being “supportive”. This referred to the past few years at
NIDA when Elizabeth Butcher, general manager for the past 39 years,
was often at odds with Mellor.
The former chairwoman of NIDA, the Sydney businesswoman Jillian
Broadbent, used to refer to the pair as lacking “synergy”.
Replying to Armfield early this month, Long maintained that
Mellor was not dismissed but had simply reached the end of his
contract. No mention, then, that Mellor had been on a year-to-year
contract, had no recent performance review and was told only one
month before his final contract ended in December last year that it
was curtains for him.
Long, the former executive director of the Australian Film
Television and Radio School, also sent Armfield a two-page letter
distributed to NIDA staff and students late last year, outlining
the board’s decision to overhaul its structure by appointing a
single director-chief executive, in place of the past pairing of a
director largely with artistic responsibilities and a general
manager. (Nevertheless, the position of general manager was to
remain, with he or she reporting to the new boss.)
The new director-chief executive will need to be superhuman,
combining “artistic and educational vision” with a track record in
“strategic leadership and management”.
Long’s letter did not address the proposed leadership structure
suggested in the protest letter.
Last week, Mellor, 60, applied for the new position but it seems
he has little chance of success if NIDA’s 11-member board of
directors stands by the present job requirements.
Said Armfield: “There are major administrative problems in
running a place like that, and that’s not Aubrey’s skill. He is not
that politically savvy. He needs someone beside him.
“But he has the loyalty of just about every actor in Australia.
He loves and understands the art of acting.”
Judy Davis, the actor, former NIDA board member and signatory to
Armfield’s letter, agrees. In her student years at the school,
Mellor had been “a wonderful teacher %26#133; Aubrey was the reason
that made my time worthwhile there”, she said. “I’m not sure I
would have got through it without Aubrey.”
But Mellor’s role is just one strand in the complex recent
history of NIDA.
Just as important is the involvement of Elizabeth Butcher, 69,
NIDA’s general manager for almost four decades, and John Clark, 75,
the director for 35 years.
Immersed in NIDA’s past, the pair seem reluctant to let go.
Although he retired as director in 2004, Clark joined the board
of NIDA two years later.
Attempts by the board to negotiate Butcher’s exit over time
ended in tears for all concerned. Literally.
Both Broadbent, the then chairwoman, and Butcher were deeply
distressed over the aborted plans for Butcher’s departure. Last
year, Broadbent quit as chairwoman, leaving Butcher in situ.
Butcher joined NIDA as bursar in 1969, a decade after it was
founded. In the same year, Clark became NIDA’s director.
Over time, Butcher became the mother hen of the organisation,
involving herself in both the detail and the big picture - from
students’ scholarships to helping staff with parking fines, but
also overseeing funding and the big move to new premises in the
1980s.
During that decade, some board members attempted to initiate
regular audits of NIDA’s activities and to institute other reforms,
but they were in a minority. No one wanted to upset the boss -
Butcher.
The board continued in its own stately way. Malcolm Chaikin was
chairman for 13 years until he found his own replacement in Dame
Leonie Kramer.
With the exception of the university representative on the
board, at present Professor Tony Dooley, NIDA directors are
appointed by a body known as the NIDA “company”.
This is a rather incestuous system, as the company, made up of
about 100 members, is largely “a bunch of people who have been on
the board”, Chaikin said.
The NIDA company played an important role in the recent NIDA
troubles.
In 2001, David Gonski, a powerful city networker and founder of
the investment bank Investec, became chairman of NIDA. It is
understood that by 2003 he had worked out with Clark the timing of
Clark’s retirement.
That year, when Clark turned 70, he signalled his departure from
NIDA, telling the media “it’s time, it’s just time”.
A selection committee deciding on his successor unanimously
chose Mellor, a former NIDA student and teacher and then director
of Melbourne’s Playbox Theatre.
Butcher made her feelings known, arguing strongly against
Mellor. Both she and Clark had hoped the new director would be the
theatre director Gale Edwards.
Early in 2005, when Mellor took up the job, he was led to
believe that Butcher would retire in six months. Gonski might have
overseen her retirement. However, he resigned in August 2005, when
he became chancellor of the University of NSW.
The new chairwoman was his colleague, Jillian Broadbent, who sat
on several company boards and is a director of the Reserve
Bank.
The following year was a tough one. In September 2006, Clark,
with help from the members of the NIDA company, was elected to the
board. This was unsettling for Broadbent. She asked that Clark’s
first loyalty be to the board and that he distance himself from key
appointments.
At a board meeting held soon after, all NIDA directors - except
Clark, who did not attend - discussed a phased retirement plan for
Butcher.
After the meeting, Broadbent told Butcher that the board had
made a unanimous decision: it wanted to work out a timetable for
Butcher’s retirement. Butcher took alarm. Was she being sacked?
Loyal staff rallied to her support; petitions were signed in her
favour. A vote of no confidence in the board was mooted.
It was as if Butcher felt she had to save NIDA.
Some NIDA staff members blamed Mellor, thinking he must have
been the trigger for the board’s decision.
At a meeting called to calm the staff, Broadbent explained her
position while the deputy chairman, Bruce Cutler, a former managing
partner of the law firm Freehills, said half-jokingly that in terms
of handling Butcher’s retirement plans, “we f—ed up”.
Butcher is understood to have approached members of the NIDA
company for help, among them the former senator Chris Puplick, a
friend of Clark and former NIDA director.
Puplick discussed Butcher with Broadbent and while no one will
comment on that conversation, it is understood that Puplick
suggested Butcher’s supporters might go to the media.
In April last year, before NIDA’s annual general meeting,
Puplick wrote to NIDA members nominating himself as a director of
the board.
He was elected at the annual meeting on May 15. On the same day,
Broadbent retired from the board, to be replaced by Long.
Last week, Butcher told the Herald, “I will be retiring
some time later this year”, although she would be staying on for
about six months “to see the new person in” and will oversee the
organisation’s 50th anniversary celebrations next year.
Mellor is still at NIDA, under contract until June as “special
projects manager”.
Puplick said this week he had no comment. “I don’t want to add
to the rumour and gossip-mongering.”
Meaning he can’t discuss it?
“I won’t discuss it.”
NIDA, meanwhile, is inviting the public to its next open day, in
May, with its website announcing that “once in every two years,
NIDA opens its doors and invites you to explore. Satisfy your
intrigue and find out what goes on in the studios and theatres of
Australia’s most prestigious performing arts school.”
No indication, though, that the offices and boardroom will be
open for exploration.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Related posts

Much ado about NIDA’s direction

Monday, March 17th, 2008

The secret plottings at Elsinore. The clash of ambitions in the
court of King Lear. The deadly rivalry of the Montagues and
Capulets. All familiar theatrical scenarios to the students and
staff of Australia’s leading acting school.
But the National Institute of Dramatic Art has seen them all in
a more intimate way in the past four years. Not so much on stage as
in-house.
The school, based at the University of NSW campus in Kensington,
has been swept up in an intense but secret battle over the
leadership of the institution, which is funded by the federal
government and counts among its alumni such actors and directors as
Cate Blanchett, Baz Luhrmann, Judy Davis, Mel Gibson and Hugo
Weaving.
The private machinations were partly revealed late last month
when Neil Armfield, the artistic director of Company B in Sydney,
wrote to NIDA’s chairman, Malcolm Long. His co-signatories were 20
other artistic directors, actors and film directors from all over
the country. These future employers of NIDA students protested
about the way in which the school’s board had failed to renew the
term of its immediate past director, Aubrey Mellor, calling his
imminent departure an “apparent dismissal”.
They suggested that Mellor continue in his past role as artistic
director, with a “strong and supportive” chief executive - the key
word being “supportive”. This referred to the past few years at
NIDA when Elizabeth Butcher, general manager for the past 39 years,
was often at odds with Mellor.
The former chairwoman of NIDA, the Sydney businesswoman Jillian
Broadbent, used to refer to the pair as lacking “synergy”.
Replying to Armfield early this month, Long maintained that
Mellor was not dismissed but had simply reached the end of his
contract. No mention, then, that Mellor had been on a year-to-year
contract, had no recent performance review and was told only one
month before his final contract ended in December last year that it
was curtains for him.
Long, the former executive director of the Australian Film
Television and Radio School, also sent Armfield a two-page letter
distributed to NIDA staff and students late last year, outlining
the board’s decision to overhaul its structure by appointing a
single director-chief executive, in place of the past pairing of a
director largely with artistic responsibilities and a general
manager. (Nevertheless, the position of general manager was to
remain, with he or she reporting to the new boss.)
The new director-chief executive will need to be superhuman,
combining “artistic and educational vision” with a track record in
“strategic leadership and management”.
Long’s letter did not address the proposed leadership structure
suggested in the protest letter.
Last week, Mellor, 60, applied for the new position but it seems
he has little chance of success if NIDA’s 11-member board of
directors stands by the present job requirements.
Said Armfield: “There are major administrative problems in
running a place like that, and that’s not Aubrey’s skill. He is not
that politically savvy. He needs someone beside him.
“But he has the loyalty of just about every actor in Australia.
He loves and understands the art of acting.”
Judy Davis, the actor, former NIDA board member and signatory to
Armfield’s letter, agrees. In her student years at the school,
Mellor had been “a wonderful teacher %26#133; Aubrey was the reason
that made my time worthwhile there”, she said. “I’m not sure I
would have got through it without Aubrey.”
But Mellor’s role is just one strand in the complex recent
history of NIDA.
Just as important is the involvement of Elizabeth Butcher, 69,
NIDA’s general manager for almost four decades, and John Clark, 75,
the director for 35 years.
Immersed in NIDA’s past, the pair seem reluctant to let go.
Although he retired as director in 2004, Clark joined the board
of NIDA two years later.
Attempts by the board to negotiate Butcher’s exit over time
ended in tears for all concerned. Literally.
Both Broadbent, the then chairwoman, and Butcher were deeply
distressed over the aborted plans for Butcher’s departure. Last
year, Broadbent quit as chairwoman, leaving Butcher in situ.
Butcher joined NIDA as bursar in 1969, a decade after it was
founded. In the same year, Clark became NIDA’s director.
Over time, Butcher became the mother hen of the organisation,
involving herself in both the detail and the big picture - from
students’ scholarships to helping staff with parking fines, but
also overseeing funding and the big move to new premises in the
1980s.
During that decade, some board members attempted to initiate
regular audits of NIDA’s activities and to institute other reforms,
but they were in a minority. No one wanted to upset the boss -
Butcher.
The board continued in its own stately way. Malcolm Chaikin was
chairman for 13 years until he found his own replacement in Dame
Leonie Kramer.
With the exception of the university representative on the
board, at present Professor Tony Dooley, NIDA directors are
appointed by a body known as the NIDA “company”.
This is a rather incestuous system, as the company, made up of
about 100 members, is largely “a bunch of people who have been on
the board”, Chaikin said.
The NIDA company played an important role in the recent NIDA
troubles.
In 2001, David Gonski, a powerful city networker and founder of
the investment bank Investec, became chairman of NIDA. It is
understood that by 2003 he had worked out with Clark the timing of
Clark’s retirement.
That year, when Clark turned 70, he signalled his departure from
NIDA, telling the media “it’s time, it’s just time”.
A selection committee deciding on his successor unanimously
chose Mellor, a former NIDA student and teacher and then director
of Melbourne’s Playbox Theatre.
Butcher made her feelings known, arguing strongly against
Mellor. Both she and Clark had hoped the new director would be the
theatre director Gale Edwards.
Early in 2005, when Mellor took up the job, he was led to
believe that Butcher would retire in six months. Gonski might have
overseen her retirement. However, he resigned in August 2005, when
he became chancellor of the University of NSW.
The new chairwoman was his colleague, Jillian Broadbent, who sat
on several company boards and is a director of the Reserve
Bank.
The following year was a tough one. In September 2006, Clark,
with help from the members of the NIDA company, was elected to the
board. This was unsettling for Broadbent. She asked that Clark’s
first loyalty be to the board and that he distance himself from key
appointments.
At a board meeting held soon after, all NIDA directors - except
Clark, who did not attend - discussed a phased retirement plan for
Butcher.
After the meeting, Broadbent told Butcher that the board had
made a unanimous decision: it wanted to work out a timetable for
Butcher’s retirement. Butcher took alarm. Was she being sacked?
Loyal staff rallied to her support; petitions were signed in her
favour. A vote of no confidence in the board was mooted.
It was as if Butcher felt she had to save NIDA.
Some NIDA staff members blamed Mellor, thinking he must have
been the trigger for the board’s decision.
At a meeting called to calm the staff, Broadbent explained her
position while the deputy chairman, Bruce Cutler, a former managing
partner of the law firm Freehills, said half-jokingly that in terms
of handling Butcher’s retirement plans, “we f—ed up”.
Butcher is understood to have approached members of the NIDA
company for help, among them the former senator Chris Puplick, a
friend of Clark and former NIDA director.
Puplick discussed Butcher with Broadbent and while no one will
comment on that conversation, it is understood that Puplick
suggested Butcher’s supporters might go to the media.
In April last year, before NIDA’s annual general meeting,
Puplick wrote to NIDA members nominating himself as a director of
the board.
He was elected at the annual meeting on May 15. On the same day,
Broadbent retired from the board, to be replaced by Long.
Last week, Butcher told the Herald, “I will be retiring
some time later this year”, although she would be staying on for
about six months “to see the new person in” and will oversee the
organisation’s 50th anniversary celebrations next year.
Mellor is still at NIDA, under contract until June as “special
projects manager”.
Puplick said this week he had no comment. “I don’t want to add
to the rumour and gossip-mongering.”
Meaning he can’t discuss it?
“I won’t discuss it.”
NIDA, meanwhile, is inviting the public to its next open day, in
May, with its website announcing that “once in every two years,
NIDA opens its doors and invites you to explore. Satisfy your
intrigue and find out what goes on in the studios and theatres of
Australia’s most prestigious performing arts school.”
No indication, though, that the offices and boardroom will be
open for exploration.

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Much ado about NIDA’s direction

Monday, March 17th, 2008

The secret plottings at Elsinore. The clash of ambitions in the
court of King Lear. The deadly rivalry of the Montagues and
Capulets. All familiar theatrical scenarios to the students and
staff of Australia’s leading acting school.
But the National Institute of Dramatic Art has seen them all in
a more intimate way in the past four years. Not so much on stage as
in-house.
The school, based at the University of NSW campus in Kensington,
has been swept up in an intense but secret battle over the
leadership of the institution, which is funded by the federal
government and counts among its alumni such actors and directors as
Cate Blanchett, Baz Luhrmann, Judy Davis, Mel Gibson and Hugo
Weaving.
The private machinations were partly revealed late last month
when Neil Armfield, the artistic director of Company B in Sydney,
wrote to NIDA’s chairman, Malcolm Long. His co-signatories were 20
other artistic directors, actors and film directors from all over
the country. These future employers of NIDA students protested
about the way in which the school’s board had failed to renew the
term of its immediate past director, Aubrey Mellor, calling his
imminent departure an “apparent dismissal”.
They suggested that Mellor continue in his past role as artistic
director, with a “strong and supportive” chief executive - the key
word being “supportive”. This referred to the past few years at
NIDA when Elizabeth Butcher, general manager for the past 39 years,
was often at odds with Mellor.
The former chairwoman of NIDA, the Sydney businesswoman Jillian
Broadbent, used to refer to the pair as lacking “synergy”.
Replying to Armfield early this month, Long maintained that
Mellor was not dismissed but had simply reached the end of his
contract. No mention, then, that Mellor had been on a year-to-year
contract, had no recent performance review and was told only one
month before his final contract ended in December last year that it
was curtains for him.
Long, the former executive director of the Australian Film
Television and Radio School, also sent Armfield a two-page letter
distributed to NIDA staff and students late last year, outlining
the board’s decision to overhaul its structure by appointing a
single director-chief executive, in place of the past pairing of a
director largely with artistic responsibilities and a general
manager. (Nevertheless, the position of general manager was to
remain, with he or she reporting to the new boss.)
The new director-chief executive will need to be superhuman,
combining “artistic and educational vision” with a track record in
“strategic leadership and management”.
Long’s letter did not address the proposed leadership structure
suggested in the protest letter.
Last week, Mellor, 60, applied for the new position but it seems
he has little chance of success if NIDA’s 11-member board of
directors stands by the present job requirements.
Said Armfield: “There are major administrative problems in
running a place like that, and that’s not Aubrey’s skill. He is not
that politically savvy. He needs someone beside him.
“But he has the loyalty of just about every actor in Australia.
He loves and understands the art of acting.”
Judy Davis, the actor, former NIDA board member and signatory to
Armfield’s letter, agrees. In her student years at the school,
Mellor had been “a wonderful teacher %26#133; Aubrey was the reason
that made my time worthwhile there”, she said. “I’m not sure I
would have got through it without Aubrey.”
But Mellor’s role is just one strand in the complex recent
history of NIDA.
Just as important is the involvement of Elizabeth Butcher, 69,
NIDA’s general manager for almost four decades, and John Clark, 75,
the director for 35 years.
Immersed in NIDA’s past, the pair seem reluctant to let go.
Although he retired as director in 2004, Clark joined the board
of NIDA two years later.
Attempts by the board to negotiate Butcher’s exit over time
ended in tears for all concerned. Literally.
Both Broadbent, the then chairwoman, and Butcher were deeply
distressed over the aborted plans for Butcher’s departure. Last
year, Broadbent quit as chairwoman, leaving Butcher in situ.
Butcher joined NIDA as bursar in 1969, a decade after it was
founded. In the same year, Clark became NIDA’s director.
Over time, Butcher became the mother hen of the organisation,
involving herself in both the detail and the big picture - from
students’ scholarships to helping staff with parking fines, but
also overseeing funding and the big move to new premises in the
1980s.
During that decade, some board members attempted to initiate
regular audits of NIDA’s activities and to institute other reforms,
but t