MWFF 2021 FESTIVAL DIARY: PART 4
by Lara Fielding
MWFF Closing Night
It’s my first time back inside a cinema in months, and I’m filled with feelings hovering between precarity and relieved gratitude. When I look around me in RMIT’s Capitol Theatre where I’m sat, I see beaming filmmakers – critics – lovers alike. They are squeezing their dates’ hands, rotating the rims of plastic winecups, shuffling speech papers, milling, resting, or grinning with their crowd. We’re here to witness Catherine Dwyer’s feature documentary Brazen Hussies, a re-visitation of the Women’s Liberation movement in Australia (1965-1975), for the closing night of MWFF.
The night was opened with a Welcome to Country from Janet Galpin of the Boon Wurrung Foundation. Their words still ring clearly in my mind, especially them urging the audience to embody the knowledge that the first artists of this land, stolen Wurundjeri land, were First Nations people. As were the first astronomers, engineers, diplomats and peacemakers. Space made for the contemplation of deep time, and the acknowledgement of ongoing Indigenous excellence, will always be critical.
This thinking primed me for interrogating the position from which Brazen Hussies was being told. My biggest fear – a saturation of second-wave white feminist actions and figureheads – which was unfortunately somewhat fulfilled. I soon realised Brazen Hussies was a brilliant resource for audiences who needed educating or convincing about second-wave stories in so-called Australia, yet missed a few marks in its tearing through key events.
Current interviews of talking heads in living rooms complemented found-footage, personal memorabilia and black and white images of the protesters of yesteryear. ‘You’ve come a long way, baby’ is the message. Yet, the contributions of First Nations, trans, non-binary, disabled, working-class and migrant women in these movements is brief and skirted around. In one contemporary interview Pat O’Shane discusses the “unconscious” racism that was present in second-wave Women’s Lib. I would argue it was completely full-blown.
Brazen Hussies stretches to represent a political spectrum from radical separatist to reform-focused feminist groups, however, in my opinion, dedicated too much screen time to the within-institution reformers. I would have loved to see more air time, and even the cinematic form, dedicated to embodying the titular punk brazen spirit.
I really loved the focus on the importance of consciousness-raising groups, this was beautiful. As well as the emphasis on collectivity, and joyous performance and spectacle in protest space. The Anarcho-Surrealist Insurrectionary Feminist zines and theatrics really caught my attention, and drew rolling and catching laughter from the audience. I most valued the time Brazen Hussies leant to addressing the epidemic of violence against women and femmes that has insidiously thick roots in so-called Australia. This epidemic carries into 2021 profoundly, and its disposability politics are compounded by racial capitalism, as well as a hush-hush culture of entitlement.
Whilst I personally prefer #MoreThan second-wave stories to inspire drive inside of me, I left the film feeling grateful for these inclusions. In witnessing the excited joy and chatter of the audience around me leaving their seats, and heading into the night, I reflect that it is a good thing that a film like this is being distributed. I sense the majority of Dwyer’s audiences agree.