Michael Lallo.
When David Wenham learned that Wake in Fright was being adapted to television, he was appalled. Kenneth Cook’s novel is a classic of Australian literature, and the film it inspired is one of the country’s best. Why tarnish its legacy with a commercial TV re-make?
‘‘I thought it was a stupid idea,’’ he says. ‘‘Then, ironically, my agent sent me the script.’’
As he scanned the proposal, Wenham rolled his eyes. But curiosity soon got the better of him. He opened the script and found himself hooked. It was faithful to the 1961 book, yet artfully updated to the present day. The characters were vivid and fresh. Somehow, with the passing of time, the story felt even more relevant.
Ted Kotcheff’s 1971 movie was critically acclaimed but a commercial failure. Many did not appreciate this Canadian director’s dark portrayal of country life, preferring a more romanticised view of ‘‘the bush’’.
The discovery of old reels in a Pittsburgh warehouse, in 2004, sparked hopes the film would find a bigger audience. (The master copy had gone missing years earlier, leading to its reputation as a ‘‘lost classic’’.) It did well when it was re-released in 2009, it did well – but only in the handful of theatres that screened it.
‘‘Very few people after my generation will ever see that film,’’ Wenham says. ‘‘That’s what made me turn 180 degrees. I thought, ‘Why not give people the opportunity to access this story? Why am I being so snooty?’ ‘‘
He waves his hand across his face while speaking, as rhythmically as a metronome. We’re in Broken Hill, a mining town in outback NSW, where the two-part Wake in Fright miniseries is being filmed. To go outside is to enter a war with flies. Stop moving, and they crawl inside your mouth. Fight them off, and they become frenzied by your perspiration.
Then there’s the dust; the rustcoloured dirt that coats your skin and stains your clothes. On a windy day, you can taste it.
In Kotcheff’s film, Broken Hill served as the fictional town of Bundanyabba. When scouting for locations last year, however, the crew looked at South Australia and Western Australia. ‘‘They have strong [financial] incentives,’’ says executive producer Helen Bowden. ‘‘And frankly, they would have been easier.’’
But when Bowden and her colleagues visited Broken Hill they called off their search at once. ‘‘We all went, ‘It just has to be here’. It was the expensive option but definitely the right option.’’
She was particularly drawn to the town’s harsh beauty. The thick stone walls of the late-19th century pubs, for instance. The old workers’ cottages, clad in corrugated iron. And the colossal ‘‘slag heap’’ of excavation waste, looming in the background.
It’s a striking setting for today’s shoot. Sean Keenan, who stars as teacher John Grant, is being chased down a dirt road by his tormentors. Director Kriv Stenders, best known for the hit movie Red Dog, requests a second take, then a third. By the time he yells ‘‘Cut!’’, Keenan is drenched in sweat.
‘‘I wish I’d worn a Fitbit, to track how many kays I ran,’’ says the 24-year old actor. ‘‘Luckily, John doesn’t have to look like Hercules when he’s running. He has to look exhausted – which is