Rafferty had one of those upbringings that Australians don’t seem to have any more – nomadic, moving from place to place as a child, then spending his early adult hood doing various jobs around the countryside. Even if he did hype his adventures a little (and who wouldn’t), it’s still fairly gypsy-ish. He eventually wound up in Sydney, where he worked as a cellarman; he lived in a boat in Sydney harbour for a number of years, how cool is that? Different times. Then he got into acting.
Ken G Hall convinces Larkin that he should get credit for discovering Rafferty rather than Chauvel – indeed, Hall used Rafferty in two films before Chauvel. But they were only bit parts whereas Chauvel gave Rafferty a decent role which established his persona; indeed he even knocked back an established name – Pat Hanna, who was originally cast – to use him. (One can’t imagine the more conservative Hall – who liked to used stars already established on stage, eg Bailey, Wallace – doing such a thing. I think Hall was a little annoyed that Chauvel had the reputation as the star maker. Both did alright; in the final tally I think you’d give Chauvel credit for Errol Flynn, Mary Maguire, Rafferty, Michael Pate and Tudawali; you’d give Hall Grant Taylor, Ron Randell, Shirley Ann Richards.)
Forty Thousand Horsemen established Rafferty as an actor, then The Overlanders turned him into an international star. He followed this up with the popular Bush Christmas, but found things harder when he left his persona in Eureka Stockade; he was better cast in Bitter Springs but the film did not find favour. Like many an Australian star, he went into independent production, forming Southern International and making a series of films with Lee Robinson. These were based on two twin factors, Rafferty’s appeal and exotic locations, and when they departed from that (Dust in the Sun, The Stowaway, The Restless and the Damned) they found themselves in a great deal of financial trouble.Luckily for Rafferty, he was cast in a small role in Mutiny on the Bounty – filming for this dragged on over a year, by which time he’d paid off his debts and earned enough to buy a block of flats. (Every actor should have one windfall like that in their life.)
Larkin doesn’t shy away from the less pleasant side of Rafferty’s character, or at least criticisms of him that have been made of him by others (although he is often vague as to who these critics are) – like many Aussies at the time he drank a bit too much; he seems to have made a bit of a goose of himself on his first trip to England (where he made The Loves of Joanna Gooden); his financial naivety helped cause the trouble at Southern International; he was a limited actor, particularly in romantic scenes (ironically his marriage to Quentin – who predeceased him owing to a heavy smoking habit – was one of the great showbiz romances). But the final ledger is overwhelmingly positive.
Larkin gets upset with the disdain Rafferty has been treated with over the years. I’m not aware of any such disdain although the book came out in the 80s maybe it was different then. I do recall a lot of articles about our industry in the 50s and 60s written by people who would complain “our only film star was Chips Rafferty” (who would they have preferred?) Nowadays I think it’s calmed down a little and people can appreciate Rafferty for his achievements, which were notable. The last years of his life were melancholy – he had money, but his wife had died; he kept busy, but in undistinguished projects (with one large exception – Wake in Fright); he had no children. But he had mates, money and growing respect - he was a good bloke. This is an excellent tribute to a true Aussie legend - well-researched, passionate, not one-eyed. I wish there was something half as good for Raymond Longford, Chauvel, Hall, Lottie Lyell, etc.
No comments:
Post a Comment