Very few bushranger films are as deserving of the high definition restoration as Philippe Mora’s Mad Dog Morgan, and once again Umbrella Entertainment demonstrate just why what they do is so remarkable with this superb new release.
The menu is simple and easy to navigate, popping up over a backdrop of a montage of scenes from the film so that right from the get-go we see how much better this looks than the previous releases. Umbrella don’t usually go for elaborate menus and nothing here breaks that mold. It’s simple and effective and whets the appetite for the coming attraction.
The restoration of the feature is sublime. The work that the restoration team have put into preparing this for a 4K upgrade have absolutely outdone themselves. The contrast in the picture is bold, the colours vibrant and the details clearer than they’ve ever been seen before. The footage has been cleaned up so there’s no dust specs or scratches to remind the viewer that the vision is taken from 40+ year old film stock. In this process a lot of shots have been stabilised. This is most noticeable in the intro with its cavalcade of S.T. Gill illustrations, as well as the closing shot of Morgan’s corpse replicating a Carte de Visite. To see these once jumpy images rendered properly static, as they were always meant to be, is beautiful in itself, but it really is indicative of the attention given to crafting the best possible iteration of Mad Dog Morgan.
The film itself is the director’s cut, which has been the standard for quite some time and much superior to the sanitised Troma edit that was screened in the United States. Throughout, we have Detective Mainwaring’s interjections to signify each chapter of the story. It is a twisted tale of cruelty, revenge and how mistreatment can drive men to madness. Director Mora’s vision of a film that authentically captures the look and feel of the Gold Rush comes through clearly and viscerally. Dennis Hopper’s performance as Morgan is brilliant, the actor making himself the absolute embodiment of the “mad dog”. Some viewers may struggle to get beyond the more schlocky aspects of production, owing to it being a low budget film at the time of production, but to the dedicated viewer it really pays off. This is a film with layers that reveals new things with repeat viewings.
The special features on the disc include the features from the previous Umbrella DVD release, which were already fantastic, but include a swag of new interviews, commentaries and a documentary comparing the filming locations now to how they were in the film. The photography in this new documentary is absolutely gorgeous and not only highlights the beauty of the locations used in the film, but also drives home that the movie was filmed in Morgan country. The commentary track from Philippe Mora is well worth hearing too as he explains his decisions for choosing the locations and his reflections on the shoot. For aficianados of Australian film this is a must-have for your collection.
This new release demonstrates just how lucky we are that a company like Umbrella exists to release these classic, often obscure, films and series to the home viewing audience, as well as restoring landmark films so that future generations can see them at their best. The Blu-ray of Mad Dog Morgan is absolutely splendid and is an absolute score for film buffs and fans of the film. If you haven’t seen the film before then there has never been a better time to see it than now. Definitely check it out and see why it is one of Quentin Tarantino’s favourite films.
Mad Dog Morgan is available from retailers and online. The DVD is still available as well.
Ordinary criminals come and go every day. The bushranger comes once in an age. Nature requires time to produce her titans and these monsters reappear after the lapse of years.
On the face of things, Philippe Mora’s magnum opusMad Dog Morgan is little more than an “ozploitation” film loosely based on the life of bushranger Daniel Morgan. The film is clearly low budget with violence and nudity plonked in to appeal to an audience craving titillation in the then-new era of relaxed censorship that defined Australian film in the 1970s. Yet, beyond the surface elements is a script that uses the character of Morgan to meditate on the nature of humanity and society.
I’m a mad dog, sir.
The film takes its title, not from history, but from the influences of American Westerns. Yet, it is the perfect moniker for this incarnation of Morgan: a wild man driven insane by desperation and cruelty in a frontier world defined by struggle and oppression. This is not the historical Morgan that appears in the Margaret Carnegie book that inspired the film. This is a folk hero who represents the rebel; the outlaw who lives by his own rules. This is why Mora chose Dennis Hopper for the lead. Hopper had become something of an underground cult figure, an icon of the counter culture, ever since crafting his film Easy Rider. Something about the lawless characters in the film, which concentrates on two bikers on their travels through America at the height of the “free love” era, seemed to be very much in the spirit of outlaws like Morgan. The notion of Morgan as a “mad dog” refers to how he is viewed and treated after his rejection of civilisation and what he feels are unjust laws that protect those who harm others. His robberies are not merely acts of criminality; to his supporters they are rebellion, while to his detractors it is a sign of his mental incompetence and dangerousness.
One example of this is in an incident that plays out in the film almost exactly as it did in reality. Morgan bailed up Thomas Gibson, the superintendent of a station at Burrumbuttock, and forced him at gunpoint to write £500 worth of cheques to be handed out to the staff. This action was intended to humiliate the employer for his miserly treatment of his staff as well as compensate the workers. This was an act of militant socialism, forcing the wealth to be distributed more evenly. Of course, this was an affront to Victorian society, which had no qualms about the exploitation of workers for the financial gain of an employer. Acts like this were proof of Morgan’s dangerousness. He was unpredictable, but more importantly he seemed to have an agenda and authority figures were his targets.
The more I see of man, the more I admire dogs.
“Mad dog” as a label is intended to dehumanise Morgan. It highlights the attitude that his lawlessness made him no more than a feral animal deserving of extermination. The theme of criminals being dehumanised repeats throughout the film, reflected in various characters. There are discussions of the similarities between men and apes and how this could relate to criminality. There is an assertion that Morgan may be some form of gorilla rather than a man. Yet there’s also a sense in all this that the upper classes have a disdain for humanity in all forms, demonstrated particularly in the character of the odious and lugubrious Superintendent Cobham.
All of Morgan’s actions are reactionary in some way, a retaliation for injustices actual and perceived. Yet despite the apparently justified motivation for his depredations he is labelled as sub-human. In comparison we see supposedly respectable, law-abiding people – police, stockmen, miners – attacking and killing others for their race, torturing and strangling prisoners, being uncharitable to the needy and unfair to their employees, even ordering the mutilation of the dead with the infamous directive to remove Morgan’s scrotum for use as a tobacco pouch.
“By all means – off with his head. And don’t forget the scrotum.”
Further to this point, is the fact that the only people who seem to display kindness during the film are the outcasts: bushrangers, tramps and barflies. The dregs of society, it would appear, have more humanity than those who would consider them to be no more than mangy dogs. The only time we see an expression of love in the film is between Morgan and his Aboriginal companion Billy. While there appears to be a homosexual undertone to the relationship between Morgan and Billy, it is representative of the genuine and binding affection that people can share, especially when they are kindred spirits. Billy saved Morgan’s life without any expectations of reward and Morgan in response makes a point of listening to Billy’s story and learning his ways in hunting and survival. Billy gives Morgan the strength and motivation to keep going, reminding him that there is good in the world.
I think my father was white. I think. Because they came to kill my tribe because they took the sheep.
There is also a deep spirituality throughout this tale. We see Billy as something akin to an embodiment of nature at times, living off the land and endowed with knowledge of skills ranging from hunting to medicine. He is a young man whose past is a mystery even to himself. He can’t remember if his father was white but he has memories of being rejected by his tribe. His arrival just in time to bring Morgan back from the brink of death as if in answer to Morgan’s prayers sets him up as something of a guardian angel, appropriately introduced to what sounds like an angelic chorus. There are also curious moments in the film that seem to imply a deep connection to nature such as the slow-motion shot of Billy bathing in the waterfall or the closing moment of Billy making a kookaburra call into the wilderness as if to signal Morgan’s becoming one with the natural world – despite it being implied that Billy had been strangled to death earlier in the film. Combined with the quote from Mainwaring describing the bushranger as nature’s titan, we are given the notion of Morgan being guided by the embodiment of Australia itself to rebel against the colonial establishment. That a “mad dog” could become the champion for a conquered land and its dispossessed people is a very subversive idea.
That’s an extinct animal, Morgan, like you.
There is also particular emphasis placed on the gift of a skin. Upon Morgan revealing the reward on his head, dead or alive, Billy hands Morgan the pelt of a thylacine, an animal still alive in the 1860s but for the purposes of artistic expression herein referred to as an “extinct animal”. This skin is a sacred object and an item Morgan keeps close at hand throughout the remainder of the film. No attention is drawn to how Billy came into possession of a thylacine skin despite it being an animal exclusive to Tasmania, but there is a sense that this was some kind of totem object. Indeed, the thylacine becomes Morgan’s totem, representing his doomed existence and the prejudice thrust upon misunderstood creatures. The act of giving the skin to Morgan seems to represent the Aboriginal transferring his dispossession at the hands of the colonists to the renegade colonial who is destined to suffer the same fate. It is symbolic of a shared suffering and indeed Morgan’s connection to Billy reflects this kinship as well.
Do you know how lucky I am to be Dan Morgan?
Beyond this, it is the tale of a man doomed to die a monster’s death but straining to cheat the reaper as long as possible. As the film rolls on Morgan becomes only too aware of the fact that his race is almost run. His return to Victoria is an act of defiance laced with a fatalistic gloom. He knows his chance of surviving is not great and we see the cracks show when he takes supper at a shanty and expresses his regret that he’d never been with a woman and had no idea what to do with one if given the opportunity. This highlights the way his life had been wrenched away from him by the severity of the penal system and the difficulty of frontier life, both on the goldfields and as an outlaw. The outlaw lifestyle, while shown as romantic at times, is hardly a glamourous one here. It is a cursed existence devoid of comfort and necessitating a paranoid temperament as anybody could turn at any moment. Morgan is forced to sleep in caves and eat snakes despite the booty he accumulates from his robberies. He amuses himself by shaving off his moustache to look like Abraham Lincoln and practising what he’ll say and do when bailing people up. He preens himself into the image of a pirate but when the chips are down and he senses that the net is closing around him he grows more wild and bedraggled in his appearance.
I’ve always gotta keep smilin’ – keep smilin’! Always smile because it’s a beautiful day! A beautiful day…
We see Morgan begin to have nightmares where a monstrous incarnation of Smith, the police antagonist Morgan murders in an ambush, leaps out of the water wreathed in flames to seek his revenge. Morgan senses that his sins are catching up with him but is determined to go down swinging. He becomes driven by a vendetta against those that personally wronged him, revenge being his only fuel to keep going. His behaviour becomes more erratic and he tries to drown out the pain of his existence with booze. Eventually he accepts his fate with a mirthless chuckle as he twigs that Peechelba Station is surrounded by police and bounty hunters. He drapes himself in the “sacred skin of an extinct animal” and boldly steps into the open and ignores his imminent doom, instead marvelling at the sunshine and clear skies.
Well, you only go around once they say. I tell you what, that Irish whiskey’s pretty good.
As with many of the schlocky Australian films of the 70s there’s a message under the surface that can be missed by the casual viewer. The world of Mad Dog Morgan is not so separated from our own where those with power and authority look down upon the lower classes, sometimes even to the extent of questioning their humanity; the lower classes, meanwhile, prop up rogues as heroes for their defiance of an authority they feel does not reflect their values and openly holds them in contempt. To these people, Morgan represents something more than he is. He’s either the lowest form of degradation or the highest form of galantry. Yet it’s at the meeting point between law and lawless that we get the most conflict and moral complexity. It demonstrates that the further removed from something we are, the more convinced we are in our righteousness. Morgan is merely a man trying to survive in a remorseless world who becomes a force of nature, shaped by cruelty and hardship into a weapon against the structures of man. He murders the enforcers, burns the chapels of industry and wages war on that most dangerous of mankind’s creations: society. In the end, Morgan is slain but as we see from the reactions of those observing the body afterwards, he has succeeded in forcing the people to reevaluate their adherence to authority. One by one the police turn their backs on the monstrous Cobham as he instructs the doctors to mutilate the corpse for trophies, leaving the doctors stranded between the moral choice and subservience to authority.
About two weeks ago the Border Mail dropped a bombshell out of nowhere: someone was agitating to have the plaque on Dan Morgan’s grave changed. While the article was light on details, the general thrust was that the plaque incorrectly refers to the bushranger as “Mad Dog” and should be changed, as suggested by a single person.
Responses on the Border Mail’s Facebook were typically civil and well-informed:
Firstly, Morgan was a childless bachelor, secondly I’m not sure this is the same as stopping perpetuation of a negative racist stereotype.
…points for effort?
Really?
This one seems to suggest that amending Daniel Morgan’s grave marker is impinging on his rights. They’ll be burning books next, mark my words.
Now all I can think of is Dan Morgan doing voice-over for Sale of the Century.
That’s… actually a very valid comment!
So the question remains – should the plaque be changed?
To address the question first we must figure out where the incorrect title came from. During his lifetime the bushranger known as Morgan used a myriad of aliases including (but not limited to) John Smith, Bill the Native, Down the River Jack, and Daniel Moran. Because of misinformation, nailing his parentage and, therefore, his real name is near to impossible. So far there are two theories (only one of which has any real legs). The first is that his real name was John Fuller, son of ex-convicts Mary Owen and George Fuller, who was adopted out as a two year old to a bloke named Jack the Welshman. This is the origin story I used in my Dan Morgan overview article as it was the one most commonly referred to. To date nobody has uncovered definitive proof that links Morgan to these people, I know that in my research all I found were dead ends. The second, more probable, origin is that Morgan’s real name was William Moran Jr, son of ex-convicts Mary Ann Moran (née Telford, née Quinn) and William Moran (aka McNally). William Moran Jr had two older siblings christened with their father’s alias surname, William, born after the family moved to Campbelltown, was the only one christened as Moran. It is difficult to ascertain whether McNally or Moran was the real name. It is perhaps telling that on his death bed Morgan refused to confirm whether his real name was Morgan or Moran – was he being spiteful or perhaps trying to protect his widowed mother and siblings from his reputation? It was said by Jack Bradshaw, who claimed to be a friend of Morgan’s, that the bushranger would visit his mother in Wangaratta frequently so perhaps he valued family highly in spite of his antisocial tendencies. It was suggested that he adopted the moniker Morgan as a homage to Henry Morgan the rogue privateer, but if so it would have been a rare display of imagination. More likely is that he just altered his name slightly to create reasonable doubt as to his true identity.
The earliest reference to Morgan as “Mad Dog” is in newspaper articles from 1975 referring to the movie Mad Dog Morgan with most contemporary accounts of Morgan referring to him generally as “Morgan, the bushranger”, “Morgan, the Notorious Bushranger”, “Bushranger Morgan”, “The Robber, Morgan”, or “Morgan, bushranger and murderer”, although there were references in the papers to him being permitted by law, after the passing of the Felon’s Apprehension Act, to be shot like a “mad dog”. Morgan referred to himself as Mr. Morgan or just Morgan at the height of his career.
The first time we see a significant use of the term “Mad” in relation to Morgan is in the 1932 article “Mad Morgan, the Murderer” published on 16 February in the Queensland Times. The article, a retrospective of Morgan’s career, probably referring to the entry in Charles White’s 1903 tome History of Australian Bushranging Volume II, also describes him as “Morgan, the incendiary and murderer” but I suppose that doesn’t roll off the tongue quite so well. Furthermore, in Truth, Sydney, 21 April 1935, Morgan was given the nickname “Bloody” Dan Morgan, still a far cry from “Mad Dog” and more than two years after the previous use of a distinctive adjective attached to his name
The Telegraph of 27 April 1940 lists a radio program about Australia’s bushrangers playing on 4QR at three in the afternoon with an episode entitled Bloodthirsty Morgan. The Telegraph advertises in its 2 December 1942 issue a radio broadcast about the bushranger called Mad Morgan. This is the first instance since 1932 when the adjective was used. A dramatic article published in Truth, 13 November 1949, referred to him as “Dan Morgan, the murdering bushranger”, perhaps to distinguish him from Dan Morgan, the singing bushranger or Dan Morgan, the pacifist bushranger.
Many people seem to not realise that many of the monikers of bushrangers were not used by the men and women themselves. Jack Donohoe was not “bold” until a song was written about his death. Ned Kelly wasn’t “game” until long after he met his end on the scaffold. Similarly, Morgan didn’t become a “mad dog” until popular culture wanted to cash in on the popularity of Westerns (It should be noted that one of these posthumous nicknames that thankfully never took off was “Black Mike” Howe).
Thus we can see that the sentimental attachment to the moniker is misplaced at best, no doubt fuelled by the way the 1975 film has entered popular culture.
The next point to address is whether a man like Morgan deserves to be commemorated with an amended plaque. Certainly during his lifetime his unstable behaviour and tally of death, destruction and grievous bodily harm garnered him a reputation of being more beast than man. This attitude is manifest in the ghoulish way the corpse was treated. However, it is important to note that the murderous Morgan had many sympathisers who were considerably upset at his death. When referring to Morgan it is vital we remember that he was, despite his actions, a human being with friends and family who mourned his demise and were not given the opportunity to grieve or give him a send off they saw befitting. Rather, his naked, mangled, mutilated, headless corpse was chucked in a box and unceremoniously buried as far away from everyone else in the cemetery as possible in an unmarked grave. Even if people had wanted to mourn they couldn’t. It was for this reason Jack Bradshaw made a makeshift marker for the grave out of an iron bed head. It should be pointed out here that Morgan’s grave was originally next to the public latrines at Wangaratta Cemetery, a further indignity upon the bushranger after death. Regardless of the evils he committed in life, his impact on Australian history is, for better or worse, noteworthy and this plaque serves to make the lesson of his life more permanent and visible.
The plaque on Morgan’s grave
It is my opinion that the biggest issue with the plaque is not that Morgan is incorrectly labelled, it is that the plaque has weathered poorly and is very difficult to read. Moreover the confusing, haphazard layout of the cemetery does not lend itself to the casual visitor looking for graves of significance. Instead of funneling funds into a slightly reworded plaque, perhaps more signage to explain the significance of some of the more notable graves rather than white poles would be a better idea? Certainly the plaque needs refurbishing if nothing else, and some kind of display would be great for history buffs, but admittedly an uncomfortable addition to a cemetery that still functions as a resting place for the dearly departed. Alas, the shabby state of some of the graves demonstrates the way that these historic cemeteries are left to rot until the memories of the people interred there have vanished. Every cracked headstone, every shattered statue or rusted iron fence indicates all that remains of people who lived, people who in all likelihood have descendants or relatives still living today. Yet, this is the truth of humanity is it not? We all return to the earth in the end. Did not Hamlet muse on this very condition while staring into the empty eye sockets of Yorrick the fool? “To what base uses we may return, Horatio. Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander till he find it stopping a bunghole?” (Act V, Scene I for those of you playing at home). What makes a life worth remembering? Why should a murderer and thief be given hundreds to thousands of dollars for a grave marker while a frontier widow and mother of twelve’s name is barely legible on the marker of her final resting place? In the end, the value we place on these stories, these memories, is subjective. When we mark Morgan’s grave, perhaps better care should be made to acknowledge the lives of John McLean, Sergeant Maginnity and Constable Smyth who Morgan cruelly snuffed out as a matter of course? Instead of pointing out Morgan’s links to Ned Kelly, point to the families affected by his reign of terror so they may act as a reminder of the damage one man is capable of. Dan Morgan’s story shows us that men can be monsters (though sometimes the men who become monsters aren’t always the ones waving a gun around).
So, should the plaque be changed?
There is not one single argument I have found to support the change other than that he was not known in his lifetime by that moniker. However, the term is synonymous with him now so in the public consciousness “Mad Dog” is a perfectly reasonable thing to add to his epitaph. Unfortunately when the arguments against the change hinge around an individual’s views on politics and completely miss the point of the suggestion, no meaningful dialogue can be created. That, for better or worse, is the nature of things in the modern day – people are quick to mouth off on a statement, but don’t stop to think about whether what they are saying is actually relevant or true.
Since the advent of film, outlaws have been a mainstay, however no outlaws seem to have had such an interesting history on film as Australia’s bushrangers. Starting in the early 1900s, Bushranger films fast became audience favourites with the thrilling tales of the most notorious rogues brought to life in a way that was new and exciting as well as accessible to audiences. However, authorities at the time were extremely worried that they glorified the criminal exploits of these men and encouraged youths to become criminals and in 1911 a ban was placed on bushranger films that wasn’t lifted until around the time of the Second World War. The romance of the Australian bushrangers was so popular amongst American audiences that during the ban it was film makers in the USA that made bushranger films.
Sadly nearly all of these films are lost in part or in entirety due to poor conservation or outright destruction (it turns out that celluloid makes a great substitute for coals if you’re running low on fuel). Efforts continue to locate these films for their historical and artistic significance, but very few wins have been achieved. Nearly every bushranger film is conserved by the NFSA (National Sound and Film Archive) who are staffed by experts in all areas of restoration and preservation. The bulk of the surviving silent films were released by the NFSA as a video (on VHS no less) titled Bail Up!
Bushrangers on film
Bushranging in North Queensland (1904) – No details available. Produced by the Salvation Army.
The Kelly Gang (1906) – Confusingly, this short feature opened in Hobart on the same day as the Tait feature The Story of the Kelly Gang opened in Melbourne. The version was produced by Dan Barry and Robert Hollyford and only fragments exist now including a fanciful account of the murder of Aaron Sherritt.
The Kelly Gang force a woodcutter to dance before shooting him (Source: NFSA)
The Story of the Kelly Gang (1906) – Ned Kelly/The Kelly Gang. Recognised as the world’s first full-length feature film. It ran at just over an hour at a time when films were typically ten to fifteen minutes long. Only around 20 minutes has been preserved and restored by the NFSA, though searches for other prints are ongoing.
Ned Kelly’s last stand from the Tait brothers film is iconic. (Source: NFSA)
Robbery Under Arms (1907) – Captain Starlight. Rolf Boldrewood adaptation by Charles McMahon, the first in a long line of adaptations to come. [Fiction]
Robbery Under Arms (1907) – Captain Starlight. Rolf Boldrewood adaptation by John and Nevin Tait [Fiction]
The Girl Who Joined the Bushrangers (1909) – British production by Lewin Fitzhamon starring Chrissie White as a girl who joins a gang of bushrangers to steal her father’s cattle so that her lover, a policeman, my heroically recapture them.
The Story of the Kelly Gang aka The Kelly Gang of Outlaws aka Bail Up! (1910) – Not a lot is known about this film other than it was exhibited in Sydney at the Bijou in March 1910, screening twice daily from 12 – 23 March. It was shown once in Melbourne at the Cyclorama in April 1910, then in Adelaide at the Arcadia and Port Adelaide Town Hall in September that same year. It capped off the year with another set of shows in Sydney. The following year it toured to Brisbane and New Zealand, billed as a new and up to date version of the story told in the Tait film.
Ned Kelly at Creegan’s Shanty (Source: NFSA)
Thunderbolt (1910) – Frederick Ward aka Captain Thunderbolt. Dir. John Gavin. Only a portion of this film remains. At around twenty minutes, it’s long enough to demonstrate a very slight grasp on history. This was Gavin’s directorial debut and he boasted that the film was four reels long.
Ward escapes from Cockatoo Island in Thunderbolt (source: NFSA)
Moonlite (1910) – Andrew Scott aka Captain Moonlite. Dir. John Gavin. Chasing the success of their film about Thunderbolt, the creative team tackled Captain Moonlite with the director taking the lead role on screen. This film has been lost in its entirety.
Behind the scenes production still from Moonlite. (Source: NFSA)
The Life and Times of John Vane, the Notorious Australian Bushranger (1910) – John Vane, Mickey Bourke, Ben Hall, Johnny Gilbert.
A Tale of the Australian Bush aka Ben Hall, The Notorious Bushranger (1911) – Ben Hall, Johnny Gilbert. Dir. John Gavin.
Captain Midnight, the Bush King aka The Bushranger’s Bride (1911) – Edgar Dalimore aka Captain Midnight [Fiction]
Attack on the Gold Escort aka Captain Midnight, King of the Bushrangers aka Attack of the Gold Escort aka Captain Starlight’s Attack on the Gold Escort (1911) – No details available. Probably a recut version of Captain Midnight the Bush King. [Fiction]
Captain Starlight, or Gentleman of the Road (1911) – Captain Starlight. Rolf Boldrewood adaptation. Taken from stage-play adapted from Boldrewood’s novel
The Lady Outlaw aka By His Excellency’s Command aka By His Excellency’s Command, a Tale of a Lady Outlaw (1911) – “Dorothy” [Fiction]
Dan Morgan (1911) – “Mad Dan” Morgan. This lost film is the only film about Morgan to be made apart from Mad Dog Morgan.
Ben Hall and his Gang (1911) – Ben Hall, Johnny Gilbert, John Vane, John O’Meally, John Dunn
Bushranger’s Ransom, or A Ride For Life (1911) – Ben Hall, Johnny Gilbert, John O’Meally, John Vane, Mickey Bourke
Frank Gardiner, the King of the Road (1911) – Frank Gardiner. Dir. John Gavin. This lost film by John Gavin continued his traditional approach to bushranger films. It didn’t concern itself with sticking to the facts and used the character of Gardiner to play out a series of dramatic set-pieces.
Bushranger Ban is instituted
Moondyne (1913) – Joseph Bolitho Jones aka Moondyne Joe. Starring George Bryant, Roy Redgrave and Godfrey Cass, this film is based on a novel about Moondyne Joe by John Boyle O’Reilly. It focuses on Moondyne Joe escaping prison and befriending Aboriginals.
Trooper Campbell (1914) – Dir. Raymond Longford. Starring film star Lottie Lyall and based on a poem by Henry Lawson, Trooper Campbell must try and save a friend’s son from a life of crime or the indignity of the gallows.
Trooper Campbell is bailed up at a cutting beyond Blackman’s Run. (Source: NFSA)
The Kelly Gang (1920) – Ned Kelly/The Kelly Gang. Dir. Harry Southwell. Starring Godfrey Cass as Ned Kelly, this film tries to take a strongly pro-police stance to get around the ban on bushranger films, setting a precedent for future films about outlaws. It was primarily filmed in Coburg, Victoria.
Ned and Dan Kelly take leave of their mother and sister. (Source: NFSA)
Robbery Under Arms (1920) – Captain Starlight. Dir. Kenneth Brampton. Another Rolf Boldrewood adaptation. The bulk of funding for this one was obtained from mining magnate Pearson Tewksbury. [Fiction]
Captain Starlight and Warrigal eye off cattle. (Source: NFSA)
The Shadow of Lightning Ridge (1920) – “The Shadow”. Dir. Wilfred Lucas. Starring Australian boxer Snowy Baker, this fictional tale is a romance about a young Australian who returns from university to seek revenge against a corrupt squatter named Sir Edward Marriot. [Fiction]
(Source: NFSA)
The Gentleman Bushranger (1921) – Richard Lavender. Dir. Beaumont Smith. As bushranger films were banned in this time Beaumont Smith made his story about a man “falsely accused” of being a bushranger to avoid the ban. It featured a comedic (ie. Racially insensitive) Chinese character – a cook named Ah Wom Bat – to lighten proceedings. [Fiction]
When the Kellys Were Out aka The True History of the Kelly Gang (1923) – Ned Kelly/The Kelly Gang. Dir. Harry Southwell. The final performance of Godfrey Cass as Ned Kelly. Due to the “Bushranger Ban” the film has a heavily “pro-police” stance, and tries to focus heavily on the deaths of police at Stringybark Creek. Filmed in the Burragong Valley, it was initially banned in New South Wales but was released in Melbourne in 1923. It was released in England as The True Story of the Kelly Gang and supposedly was described as the greatest Australian film ever made by performer Pat Hanna. This film is yet another that has mostly been lost to time though portions of it still exist.
The Kelly Gang: Steve, Dan, Ned and Joe. (Source: NFSA)
Trooper O’Brien (1922) – Dir. John Gavin. Starring the director as Trooper O’Brien, the film uses footage from The Kelly Gang (1920) and Robbery Under Arms (1920) to tell the tale of a police officer assigned to the goldfields as a sergeant who is killed by bushrangers. Also features a very unconvincing use of blackface on one of the child actors. [Fiction]
“Dad, tell me about Uncle Jim.” (Source: NFSA)
The Bushranger (1928) – No details available. American production. [Fiction]
When the Kellys Rode (1934) – Ned Kelly/The Kelly Gang. Another Harry Southwell production, this time starring Hay Simpson as Ned Kelly.
Stingaree (1934) – Stingaree. Dir. William A. Wellman. An E. W. Hornung adaptation starring Richard Dix and Irene Dunne. This American production was designed to satiate the taste for bushranger stories that the Americans were hungry for. This romantic tale focuses mostly on the love story between Stingaree and Hilda Bouverie. [Fiction]
(Source: IMDb)
Captain Fury (1939) – Captain Michael Fury. Dir. Hal Roach. American Production starring Brian Aherne as fictional bushranger Captain Fury. It follows the story of an escaped Irish convict who raises a gang of bandits to seek justice against a corrupt landlord. Directed by the renowned comedy producer Hal Roach, whose other credits include scores of silent shorts, The Little Rascals and One Million BC the film was Academy Award nominated for best art direction by Charles D. Hall. The full film is available to be watched on YouTube. [Fiction]
A Message to Kelly (1947) – Ned Kelly/The Kelly Gang. Dir. Rupert Kathner. This short film was used as a means of procuring investment in a full-length feature. The footage was shown to community groups in Benalla who were trying to get the production shut down in order to get their support. The plan succeeded.
“The Kellys Ride Again” News (Adelaide, SA : 1923 – 1954) 12 January 1948
The Glenrowan Affair (1951) – Ned Kelly/The Kelly Gang. Dir. Rupert Kathner. Successfully procuring the means to make his Ned Kelly epic, Kathner directed and acted in the film, which starred Carlton footballer Bob Chitty as Ned. The film relies heavily on oral history and myths to form its depiction and uses the myth of Dan Kelly escaping from the burning inn at Glenrowan as a jumping off point. There was much consternation as it was one of the first Australian films in many years to be exhibited internationally.
Captain Thunderbolt (1953) – Frederick Ward aka Captain Thunderbolt. Dir. Cecil Holmes. All that remains of this film is a thrilling trailer showing a handsome, clean shaven Thunderbolt played by Grant Taylor on his daring escapes. Clearly very heavily influenced by Hollywood Westerns, this film appears to focus more on derring-do than any attempt at historical accuracy. It apparently was very very popular in the United States where it was released two years after its Australian release. It also features a young Bud Tingwell as Alan Blake.
Robbery Under Arms (1957) – Captain Starlight. Dir. Jack Lee. Yet another Rolf Boldrewood adaptation, this time starring Peter Finch and Maureen Swanson. [Fiction]
Man in Iron (1960) – Ned Kelly. Unproduced Tim Burstall feature. Burstall, whose film credits include Alvin Purple and The Last of the Knucklemen, tried for years to make his Ned Kelly film. A photograph of his assistant in Ned Kelly’s armour, superimposed on a nature shot from Stringybark Creek was gifted by Burstall to Eltham High School, his former school.
Ned Kelly: Australian Paintings by Sidney Nolan (1960) – Ned Kelly. Dir. Tim Burstall. A short art documentary. Not strictly about bushrangers but it does focus heavily on the story of the Kelly Gang. [Documentary]
Ned Kelly (1970) – Ned Kelly/The Kelly Gang. Dir. Tony Richardson. Starring Mick Jagger in the title role and based on a screenplay by Ian Jones, this film is a musical romp with a very foreign perspective on the tale that did not win a sympathetic audience locally.
Ben Hall (1975) – Ben Hall, Frank Gardiner, Johnny Gilbert, John Piesley. This TV series was a joint effort by the ABC, BBC and 20th Century Fox and starred English actor Jon Finch (best known as Roman Polanski’s Macbeth), Jack Charles and John Orcsik.
Cash and Company (1975) – Sam Cash and Joe Brady. This series, set during the Gold Rush, follows two desperadoes on their adventures as they try to evade the forces of law and order at the hands of Lieutenant Keogh. [Fiction]
Tandarra (1976) – Joe Brady and Ryler. A spin-off of Cash and Company, this series replaced Sam Cash and focused mainly on farm life rather than outlawry. [Fiction]
Mad Dog Morgan (1976) – “Mad Dan” Morgan. Dir. Philippe Mora. Starring Dennis Hopper with an Irish accent, this film tries to explore colonial Australia and the character of Dan Morgan. Very popular overseas as a “Tromasterpiece”, it is renowned for its violent imagery.
The Bushranger (1976) – Written by Margaret Pomeranz. No further details available. TV Movie [Fiction]
The Trial of Ned Kelly (1977) – Ned Kelly/The Kelly Gang. Dir. John Gauci. Featuring John Waters as Ned Kelly, this TV movie examines Ned Kelly through the narrative of his trial.
John Waters as Ned Kelly. (Source: The Canberra Times)
The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith (1978) – Jimmie Blacksmith (inspired by Jimmy Governor) Dir. Fred Schepisi. Adapted from the novel of the same name that was based heavily on the story of Jimmy Governor, The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith shows the oppression suffered by the title character pushing him to breaking point whereupon he commits a hideous murder and goes on the run. [Fiction]
The Last Outlaw (1980) – Dir. George Miller. This TV mini-series is well loved by many Ned Kelly buffs for its adherence to the actual story rather than inventing events or characters. Starring John Jarratt and Sigrid Thornton, and sporting a screenplay by Ian Jones and Bronwyn Binns (whose previous series Against the Wind was a huge success), it was released in conjunction with the 100th anniversary of the Glenrowan siege and Ned’s execution.
Reckless Kelly (1993) – Ned Kelly. Dir. Yahoo Serious. Serious followed up his hit Young Einstein with this whacky interpretation of Ned Kelly as a way of critiquing Hollywood’s obsession with guns and violence as well as advocating for gun control but is better known for its use of Yothu Yindi on the soundtrack and Ned Kelly teaching his dog to say “Cornflakes”. [Fiction]
Robbery Under Arms (1985) – Captain Starlight. Dir. Donald Crombie and Ken Hannam. Rolf Boldrewood adaptation by Donald Crombie and Ken Hannah. This adaptation of Boldrewood’s story stars Sam Neill and has the distinction of being both a feature film and a TV mini-series. After its theatrical run, the film was re-edited to become a multi-part TV special. [Fiction]
Ned Kelly (2003) – Ned Kelly/The Kelly Gang. Dir. Gregor Jordan. Riding on the coat-tails of the renewed hype around Ned Kelly because of the success of Peter Carey’s novel True History of the Kelly Gang, Jordan’s film stars Heath Ledger, Orlando Bloom, Naomi Watts and Geoffrey Rush. Based on Robert Drew’s novel Our Sunshine, it takes significant liberties with historical fact.
Ned (2003) – Ned Kelly. Dir. Abe Forsythe. This film tries to pick apart the myth around Ned Kelly and lampoon the obsession with the outlaw by creating a Ned Kelly that is a hopeless loser who gains popularity because he wears a bucket on his head. Forsythe, who also stars in the film, first pitched this idea in his year ten English class. [Fiction]
Outlawed: The Real Ned Kelly (2003) – Dir. Mark Lewis. In the wake of such a resurgence in interest in Ned Kelly, it was only natural that production companies would take a crack at documentaries on the subject. Full of moody, dramatic re-enactments and interviews, Outlawed: The Real Ned Kelly tries to question whether Ned Kelly was really a hero or a villain. [Documentary]
One of the moody re-enactment scenes in Outlawed: The Real Ned Kelly. (Source: Windfall Films)
Besieged: The Ned Kelly Story (2004) – Dir. Barrie Dowdall & Gregory Miller. Trundling out a year after the majority of the hype had died down, this documentary had dramatic re-enactments starring Peter Fenton as Ned Kelly. Fenton also composed the music for the documentary. Not as slick as the previous year’s effort, it perhaps does a better job of airing both sides of the “hero or villain” debate. [Documentary]
(Source: Umbrella Entertainment)
The Proposition (2005) – Burns Brothers. Dir. John Hillcoat. This brutal, bloody tale tells the story of the Burns brothers, Western Australian outlaws, and how the police force Charlie Burns to turn in his brother. Written by Nick Cave, this film is completely fiction but plays with the tropes of Westerns and bushrangers. Renowned for its unflinching exploration of the dark side of human nature in colonial Australia, it highlights violence and racism as well as exploring the effects of isolation both geographically and socially. [Fiction]
Tom Budge as Samuel Stoat in The Proposition (Source: Firstlook Studios)
Hell’s Gates (2007) – Alexander Pearce. Dir. Jonathan auf der Heide. Short film created to help raise finances for Van Diemen’s Land feature. Focuses on Pearce and his companions’ escape from Sarah Island up until their first murder.
The Last Confession of Alexander Pearce (2008) – Alexander Pearce. Dir. Michael James Rowland. The first of two historical feature films based on cannibal Bolter Pearce. Examines the story of Pearce as he approaches his execution and seeks divine forgiveness.
Dying Breed (2008) – Dir. Jody Dwyer. Australian horror film using the reputation of Alexander Pearce as a gimmick. In this incarnation Pearce is an escaped convict cannibal nicknamed “The Pieman” whose descendants live in seclusion and are discovered by a group of young people trying to find evidence of Tasmanian Tigers. [Fiction]
Van Diemens Land (2009) – Alexander Pearce. Dir. Jonathan auf der Heide. After successfully procuring funds to expand Hell’s Gates into a feature, Van Diemen’s Land is a shocking, gritty account of the exploits of Alexander Pearce and his accomplices as they try to traverse the wilds of Tasmania.
Ned Kelly Uncovered (2009) – Dir. Alex West. Tony Robinson of Time Team and Blackadder fame hosts this documentary made during the archaeological dig at Glenrowan. [Documentary]
Moonlite (2011) – Andrew Scott aka Captain Moonlite. Dir. Rohan Spong – unreleased. This independent film featured Barry Crocker and Tasma Walton and a whole lot of green screens. Not much is known about it other than it would have had the actors superimposed into scenery rather than using actual sets. Unfortunately production ground to a halt due to a lack of funds.
Wild Boys (2011) – Jack Keenan [Fiction] This was a fun, action-adventure series that, while not historically accurate, tried to legitimise the idea of bushrangers as “Australian cowboys”. It starred Daniel MacPherson.
The Outlaw Michael Howe (2013) – Michael Howe. Dir. Brendan Cowell. This interpretation of Howe’s story is mostly accurate but heavily rewrites key aspects including Howe’s death and features Damon Herriman as Howe and Rarriwuy Hick as Mary Cockerill.
The Legend of Ben Hall (2016) – Ben Hall, Johnny Gilbert, John Dunn. Dir. Matthew Holmes. This independent film focused heavily on historical accuracy and was funded primarily through crowd funding. Starring a cast of previously unknown actors, it is intended to launch a “Legends Anthology” including films about Frank Gardiner, John Vane and Ned Kelly.
Stringybark (2019) – The Kelly Gang. Dir. Ben Head. This independent, crowdfunded feature depicts the police killings at Stringybark Creek from the perspective of the doomed officers. After a debut at the Lorne Film Festival it is slated for a 2020 official release.
True History of the Kelly Gang (2019) – The Kelly Gang; Harry Power. Dir. Justin Kurzel. This quasi-modern, fantasy interpretation of the Ned Kelly story is inspired by Peter Carey’s novel of the same name and depicts the gang as dress-wearing renegades. After its 2019 Toronto International Film Festival debut, it languished for months before a limited theatrical run in January 2020 followed by it’s premiere on the streaming service Stan on Australia Day 2020.
Further Reading:
The Picture that Will Live Forever: The Story of the Kelly Gang By Ina Bertrand, William D. Routt
The Australian screen : a pictorial history of Australian film making by Eric Reade.
A century of Australian cinema edited by James Sabine for the Australian Film Institute.
Australian film, 1900-1977 : a guide to feature film production by Andrew Pike and Ross Cooper.
The story of the Kelly Gang film 1906-1907 by Jack Cranston. Further Viewing:
To Shoot a Mad Dog (1975) – Dir. David Elfick. The making of Mad Dog Morgan.
Stand and Deliver: Making The Legend of Ben Hall (2017) – Dir. Edward Tresize. The making of The Legend of Ben Hall.
Philippe Mora’s 1976 film Mad Dog Morgan is, to date, the only depiction of Morgan’s life on screen. Starring Dennis Hopper, it mixes fact and fiction to create a version of Morgan that tries to examine the man behind the legend and what pushes a man to a life of violence and robbery.
