Towards Self-Representation - Indigenous Voices Emerge in the 1960s and 1970s

The 1960s and 1970s marked a significant, albeit uneven, shift in the landscape of Indigenous Australian representation in film and media. While non-Indigenous filmmakers continued to dominate production, this period witnessed the burgeoning of Indigenous creative voices and a growing awareness of the need for authentic self-representation. The limited examples from this era reveal both the persistent stereotypes and the courageous early steps towards Indigenous control over their own narratives.

Dick Ross’s 1960 film, Shadow of the Boomerang, exemplifies the lingering paternalistic and often overtly racist attitudes prevalent in mainstream depictions. The introduction of a prejudiced American character, Bob Prince, as a central figure through whose negative lens Indigenous people are likely viewed, highlights the enduring "white savior" or "white interpreter" trope. While the film also offers a more sympathetic character in Kathy, the very premise of needing a white perspective to navigate Indigenous Australia reinforces colonial power dynamics. The appearance of the iconic Jimmy Little, a Yorta Yorta man who would become a significant figure in Australian music and acting, offers a flicker of authentic Indigenous presence, yet his role within this specific narrative requires further scrutiny. Was his character given agency and depth, or was he simply another element within a story primarily concerned with the experiences of white newcomers?

A more progressive development during this era was the 1962 documentary television series Alcheringa. Co-presented and commentated by Bill Onus, this series marked a crucial turning point as the first Australian television program to feature an Indigenous Australian in a prominent on-screen role. While directed by a non-Indigenous filmmaker, Frank Lowell Few, Onus’s involvement as presenter and commentator signifies a move towards incorporating Indigenous perspectives and knowledge directly into the narrative. The series' focus on pre-colonial First Nations life, culture, and the often-brutal realities of the Frontier Wars offered a potentially more nuanced and historically grounded portrayal than typical fictionalized accounts. Onus’s presence likely lent a degree of authenticity and authority that was often missing when non-Indigenous individuals spoke for or about Indigenous people. This initiative, though limited to a documentary format, paved the way for future Indigenous presenters and commentators in Australian media.

Conversely, Walkabout With Malcolm Douglas (1967-85) presents a more ambiguous case. While the program purported to show a "deep understanding of Indigenous culture and people" and documented a "changing culture in indigenous communities," the perspective remained firmly that of a non-Indigenous adventurer. The very title, centering Malcolm Douglas, positions him as the explorer and interpreter of Indigenous life for a predominantly white audience. While Douglas may have fostered genuine relationships and documented important cultural shifts, the power dynamic inherent in a non-Indigenous individual framing and presenting Indigenous experiences raises critical questions about whose voice is truly being heard and whose interpretation is being privileged.

The late 1960s and early 1970s saw the emergence of Bob Maza as a significant figure, challenging the historical underrepresentation of Indigenous actors on Australian television. His roles in mainstream programs like Bellbird (1967-68), where he played articled clerk Gerry Walters, Hunter (1968-69), Homicide (1970-74), and Silent Number (1971-73) marked a crucial, albeit often understated, breakthrough. Maza's presence in these popular series, even in various roles, began to normalize the appearance of Indigenous actors in contemporary Australian narratives, moving beyond purely "Indigenous-themed" content. However, it is vital to critically examine the nature of these roles. Were they fully developed characters with agency and depth, or were they often relegated to supporting roles that reinforced existing stereotypes or remained peripheral to the central white narratives? Despite these potential limitations, Maza’s consistent presence on mainstream television during this period undoubtedly contributed to greater visibility for Indigenous actors and challenged the complete absence that had characterized earlier decades.

The short documentary Sharing the Dream (1971) offers a different lens, focusing on the burgeoning of Indigenous creative expression within the community itself. Documenting the workshops led by American dancer Carole Y. Johnson in Redfern and the beginnings of the Redfern dance group, the film highlights the agency and initiative of Indigenous people in developing their own artistic voices. While directed by a non-Indigenous filmmaker, Milena Damyanovic, the film’s focus on the internal dynamics of the Redfern community and the emergence of Indigenous artistic practice provides a valuable counterpoint to narratives solely mediated by non-Indigenous perspectives.

Nicholas Roeg’s Walkabout (1971) remains a complex and often debated film in discussions of Indigenous representation. While it launched the extraordinary career of David Gulpilil, its narrative, centered on stranded white children being guided by an Indigenous youth, perpetuates the trope of the "noble savage" and the Indigenous person as a mystical guide to the land for white protagonists. Despite Gulpilil’s powerful presence, the film ultimately frames his character in relation to the needs and experiences of the white children, raising questions about whose journey and whose understanding is prioritized.

Furthermore, drawing from the cultural academic Stuart Hall's observation that "yesterday's deconstructions are often tomorrow's orthodox clichés," it could be argued that this film along with many made by non-Indigenous filmmakers of the time reinforce the politics of representing Australian Indigenous identity in terms of  a "homogeneity paradigm," which perpetuates the reification of Indigenous Australians by diminishing their diversity, relegating them to antiquity, and, crucially, silencing their voices. This cultural construction, where Indigenous individuals are visually present but narratively absent – akin to being depicted as mere features of the landscape or terra nullius is ever present in Walkabout. The very structures of Western interpretation and representation often compel these efforts back into familiar colonial frameworks, illustrating the ongoing challenge for Indigenous Australian voices to be truly heard rather than merely seen and subjected to a prevailing Western gaze, a struggle implicitly echoing Hall's theories on the complexities of representation and power dynamics.However, it would take the audacious power and visionary lens of Indigenous Australian filmmakers themselves to seize their own narrative, wielding their voices and visions to begin the arduous journey of eradicating the lingering shadow of terra nullius from the Australian cultural landscape.

The year 1972 stands out as a pivotal moment with the emergence of Indigenous-led media production. N'ingla a-na; Hungry for Land, co-directed by Alessandro Cavadini and an Indigenous Australian director (Carolyn Strachan), directly addressed the crucial political moment of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy. By incorporating interviews with Black activists like Bob Maza, Roberta ‘Bobbie’ Sykes, and Shirley Smith, alongside footage of the National Black Theatre, the documentary offered an invaluable platform for Indigenous voices and perspectives on their own struggle for land rights and self-determination. This film marked a significant shift towards Indigenous agency in documenting their own political realities and cultural expressions.

Furthermore, 1972 witnessed the groundbreaking establishment of the first Indigenous Australian-produced radio programs at 5UV (Adelaide) and later at 4KIG Mount Stewart. These initiatives, focusing on local news and Indigenous music, represented a crucial step towards Indigenous control over their own media and the dissemination of culturally relevant content within their communities. This move away from solely consuming mainstream media towards creating their own platforms was a vital assertion of cultural identity and self-determination.

Bruce McGuiness’s 1972 documentary Black Fire is another landmark achievement. For many years considered the first film directed by an Indigenous Australian, it offered a critical Indigenous perspective on anthropology and Aboriginal affairs. Featuring prominent figures like Doug Nicholls and Harry Williams, and even incorporating a satirical segment challenging colonial narratives of discovery, Black Fire demonstrated a powerful Indigenous intellectual and critical voice in filmmaking.

The 1972/73 ABC television adaptation of the play Basically Black represents a watershed moment in Indigenous representation on Australian television. While directed by a non-Indigenous Australian, Nicholas R. Parsons, the show was written and performed almost entirely by Indigenous Australian artists: Bob Maza, Gary Foley, Aileen Corpus, Zac Martin, and Bindi Williams. This marked the first all-Indigenous show on Australian television, offering a rare opportunity for Indigenous voices to directly shape comedic and satirical commentary on race and identity. The creation of the iconic superhero "Super Boong," a deliberately provocative and ironic figure, exemplified the show's bold use of satire to challenge derogatory terms and stereotypes. As contemporary reviews and analyses highlight, Basically Black provided a vital and long-absent glimpse of Black Australians beyond the limited and often negative portrayals in news media. The censorship of elements of the original play by the ABC, however, serves as a reminder of the ongoing power dynamics and limitations faced by Indigenous creators within mainstream institutions. 

‘Basically Black’ broadcast in 1973, stands as a sharp and innovative piece of Australian television that directly confronted systemic racism against Indigenous Australians through the potent tools of satire and comedy. The deliberate convention of Indigenous actors donning white half-masks to portray "white" Australians cleverly inverted power dynamics and exposed the absurdity of racial prejudice by stereotyping the dominant culture. While the original audience of the time, estimated at half a million to three-quarters of a million viewers watching on their single black and white televisions, may have encountered these ideas in a relatively nascent stage of national dialogue, contemporary audiences view this work through the sobering lens of over half a century since the 1967 referendum. The skits, such as the opening scene juxtaposing romanticized colonial imagery with the disrespectful act of urination and the poignant "Black Children" song highlighting the Stolen Generations and the disproportionate incarceration of Indigenous youth, resonate even more powerfully today given the ongoing struggles, the revelations of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody, and the increased awareness spurred by movements like Black Lives Matter. The final scene depicting the arrival of Captain Arthur Phillip with Indigenous Australians in positions of power offers a biting commentary on Australian immigration policies, made all the more impactful by the shift in perspective facilitated by the camera work. "Basically Black," though a product of its time, remains a vital historical artifact that underscores the enduring nature of the issues it sought to address and continues to provoke critical reflection on Australia's relationship with its First Peoples.

The later part of the decade saw further, albeit often complex, engagements with Indigenous themes and actors. Bob Maza continued to appear in television dramas like 27A (1974), sometimes in episodes that grappled with difficult social issues affecting Indigenous communities. Alessandro Cavadini’s Protected - The Truth About Palm Island (1975) used dramatization to explore the harsh realities of life on a Queensland Aboriginal reserve, bringing historical injustices to a wider audience, though still through a non-Indigenous directorial lens.

Storm Boy (1976) provided another significant role for David Gulpilil, showcasing his talent to a broader audience in a beloved Australian story. However, even in this seemingly positive portrayal, the Indigenous character Fingerbone Bill remains somewhat mystical and connected to the land in a way that can still fall into essentializing tropes.

Essie Coffey’s My Survival As An Aboriginal (1978/79) stands as a monumental achievement. As the first documentary directed by an Indigenous Australian woman, Coffey’s film offered an unflinching and deeply personal account of the atrocities and hardships faced by Aboriginal people, directly challenging dominant narratives and centring Indigenous experiences of dispossession and resistance. This film marked a crucial turning point, demonstrating the power and necessity of Indigenous people controlling their own stories and representations on screen.

Fred Schepisi’s The Chant of Jimmy Blacksmith (1979), while based on real events and starring Tommy Lewis in a powerful role, remains a controversial film in discussions of Indigenous representation. Directed by a non-Indigenous filmmaker, the film’s depiction of violence and its exploration of the tragic consequences of cultural alienation raised questions about whether it ultimately reinforced negative stereotypes or offered a nuanced understanding of the systemic pressures faced by Indigenous individuals caught between two worlds.

The 1960s and 1970s represent a crucial, transitional period. While non-Indigenous filmmakers continued to shape the dominant narratives, the emergence of Indigenous voices like Bill Onus, the consistent presence of actors like Bob Maza, the groundbreaking community media initiatives, and the powerful self-representation in films like Basically Black and My Survival As An Aboriginal signaled a growing assertion of Indigenous agency and a demand for more authentic and self-determined portrayals in Australian film and media. This era laid the groundwork for the more significant rise of Indigenous filmmaking and storytelling in the decades that followed.

The pivotal transition in Indigenous Australian representation, moving "Towards Self-Representation" was evident in the 1960s and 1970s. While non-Indigenous filmmakers still held considerable influence, this era saw the emergence of significant Indigenous voices and initiatives. Key themes include the persistence of paternalistic and racist depictions (as seen in Shadow of the Boomerang), the groundbreaking but still limited inclusion of Indigenous presenters and actors (Bill Onus in Alcheringa and Bob Maza in mainstream television), the rise of Indigenous-led media production (5UV and 4KIG radio programs), and the powerful assertion of Indigenous agency through films like Basically Black and Essie Coffey's My Survival As An Aboriginal. Modern Indigenous Australian perspectives and pedagogy would likely critically assess this period for its complex mix of progress and continued misrepresentation, questioning the power dynamics at play even in seemingly progressive films like Walkabout and Storm Boy, and celebrating the crucial steps towards self-determination embodied by works like N'ingla a-na; Hungry for Land and Black Fire. These films should still be watched and analyzed to understand this complex shift, to acknowledge the pioneering efforts of Indigenous media creators, and to trace the ongoing struggle for authentic self-representation in Australian film and media.

From an Indigenous Australian critical viewpoint, while the 1960s and 1970s mark a crucial turning point with the emergence of Indigenous voices and a push towards self-representation, this period must be viewed through a lens that acknowledges both the progress and the persistent limitations. The limited inclusion of Indigenous actors like Bob Maza in mainstream television, while significant in challenging complete erasure, often confined them to roles that still centered white narratives and potentially reinforced existing stereotypes. Even seemingly progressive films like Walkabout and Storm Boy, despite featuring prominent Indigenous actors, continued to frame Indigenous characters within a non-Indigenous gaze, often essentializing their connection to the land and their role as guides for white protagonists. The true significance of this era lies in the burgeoning of Indigenous-led initiatives, such as Bill Onus's groundbreaking documentary work (finally brought to light), the establishment of Indigenous-controlled radio, and the powerful self-representation in productions like Basically Black and Essie Coffey’s My Survival As An Aboriginal. These acts of self-determination, though often existing on the margins of the mainstream, represent the genuine shift towards Indigenous narrative sovereignty, demanding that analyses of this period prioritize these Indigenous-led contributions and critically examine the extent to which mainstream productions truly moved beyond colonial tropes and genuinely empowered Indigenous voices and perspectives.

References

Film References

Cavadini, A. & Strachan, C. (Co-Directors) (1972) N'ingla a-na; Hungry for Land.

Cavadini, A. (Director) (1975) Protected - The Truth About Palm Island.

Damyanovic, M. (Director) (1971) Sharing the Dream.

Douglas, M. (Director) (1967-85) Walkabout With Malcolm Douglas.

McGuiness, B. (Director) (1972) Black Fire.

Parsons, N.R. (Director) (1973) Basically Black. Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC).

Roeg, N. (Director) (1971) Walkabout.

Ross, D. (Director) (1960) Shadow of the Boomerang.

Schepisi, F. (Director) (1976) Storm Boy.

Schepisi, F. (Director) (1979) The Chant of Jimmy Blacksmith.

Weir, P. 1977. The Last Wave (1977).

Books

Batty, P. (2001). Namarrkun: Ancestral Being in Jawoyn Society. Australian National University.

Foley, G. (2018). Whiteness and Blackness in the Koori Struggle for Self-Determination. Arena Printing and Publishing Pty Ltd.

Griffiths, S. (2002). 'Representing the 'Other': Race, Gender and Nation in Australian Cinema'. In The Oxford Guide to Australian Film (pp. 165-184). Oxford University Press.

Martin, A. (1993). Phantom Signs: Australian Independent Film, 1978-1993. Flicks Books.

Murray, S. (2007) The cinema of Australia. Eastgardens, NSW: McGraw-Hill Australia.

Pike, A. & Cooper, R. (1998) Australian film 1900-1977: A guide to feature film production. Revised edition. Melbourne: Oxford University Press.

Shoemaker, A. (2004). 'Representations of Aboriginal People in Australian Film'. In The Encyclopedia of Aboriginal Australia (Vol. 2, pp. 908-913). Aboriginal Studies Press.

Smith, R. (2002) Australian film. Melbourne: Schwartz Publishing.

Turner, G. (2006) Film as social practice. 4th edn. London: Routledge.

Wright, D. (2013) Charles Chauvel: Australia's first film-maker. North Sydney, NSW: Random House Australia.

Academic Articles

Batty, P. (2011). '“We’re not just victims”: challenging representations of Indigenous Australians in documentary film'. Studies in Documentary Film, 5(1), 5-19.

Browne, S., Carlson, B., & Tranter, B. (Eds.). (2016). Indigenous Peoples and the Politics of Representation. Routledge.

Hall, S. (1997). Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices. London: SAGE.

Langton, M. (2003) Beyond the burden of history in Indigenous Australian cinema. Film Studies, 20(1), 36-53.

Ryan, M. P. (2012). Visualizing Equality: Documentary Photography and Civil Rights in the Twentieth Century. University Press of New England.

Williams, D. (1996) Indigenous Australians and the cinema. Cinema Papers no. 108, pp. 12-15.

Websites

Eckersley, M. (2014, May 26). Australian Indigenous Drama on Film. Australian Indigenous Drama. Available from: https://australianindigenousdrama.blogspot.com/2014/05/australian-indigenous-drama-on-film.html

Ryan, S. (2014, May 26). Australian Indigenous Drama on Film. Australian Indigenous Drama. Available from: https://australianindigenousdrama.blogspot.com/2014/05/australian-indigenous-drama-on-film.html

Newspaper Articles

(To find relevant newspaper articles, you would typically search archival databases like ProQuest, Factiva, or the National Library of Australia's Trove. When citing, use the following format) Author, A.A. (Year, Month Day). Title of article. Title of Newspaper.

Masters Thesis

Hampton, S. (2010) Reorienting the Feminine Other in Australian Film. BA thesis, University of Queensland. Available from: https://espace.library.uq.edu.au/view/UQ:3b58300/s44184267_final_thesis.pdf

Doctoral Thesis

Debenham, J.A. (2013) Representations of Aborigines in Australian Documentary Film 1901 - 2009. PhD thesis, University of Newcastle. Available from: https://nova.newcastle.edu.au/vital/access/services/Download/uon:13508/ATTACHMENT01

Frey, A. (2015) Eco-Fourth Cinema: Indigenous Rights and Environmental Crises. PhD thesis, University of Queensland. Available from: https://espace.library.uq.edu.au/view/UQ:f232a64/s4330872_final_thesis.pdf

Whispers and Shadows - Indigenous Presence and Erasure in Australian Film of the 1940s and 1950s

 Whispers and Shadows - Indigenous Presence and Erasure in Australian Film of the 1940s and 1950s

The post-World War II era in Australian cinema presents a complex and often contradictory landscape regarding the representation of Indigenous Australians. While the dominant narrative frequently marginalized or stereotyped Indigenous people, the nascent, and often overlooked, contributions of Indigenous filmmakers themselves offer a crucial counter-narrative. Foremost among these pioneering figures is Bill Onus, whose untitled 1946 documentary footage stands as a monumental, albeit long-obscured, achievement. This chapter will explore key films of the 1940s and 1950s, including Harry Watt’s The Overlanders (1946), Eureka Stockade (1949), Ralph Smart’s Bitter Springs (1950), and Charles Chauvel’s Jedda (1955), while placing particular emphasis on the groundbreaking significance of Onus’s work.

Harry Watt’s 1946 production, The Overlanders, while seemingly progressive for its inclusion of Indigenous actors Henry Murdoch, Clyde Combo, and Bill Onus in speaking roles, warrants a more nuanced critique. While these actors were given screen time and dialogue, their characters were ultimately defined by their utility to the white protagonists’ survival. Their knowledge of the land, their tracking skills, and their physical labor were essential to the success of the cattle drive. This reinforces a colonial trope of the "helpful native," whose value is contingent upon their service to the white agenda. The anecdote about Murdoch carrying Shakespeare, while intended to humanize him, could also be interpreted through a paternalistic lens – the "noble savage" possessing an unexpected connection to Western culture, thus making him more palatable to a white audience. Were their own cultural knowledge systems and intellectual traditions given equal weight or recognition? The film, despite its surface-level inclusivity, ultimately reinforces a hierarchy where Indigenous expertise is instrumental but subordinate to white leadership and goals.

The rediscovery of Bill Onus’s untitled 1946 documentary footage is a profoundly significant event, offering a crucial disruption to the dominant narrative. As detailed in the documentary Ablaze (2021) and reported by ABC News, the fact that the first known film by an Indigenous Australian filmmaker remained lost for decades speaks volumes about the systemic neglect and erasure of Indigenous voices within the Australian film industry and broader society. This absence is not merely accidental; it reflects a historical context where Indigenous perspectives were actively suppressed or deemed irrelevant. The footage found which was filmed was of a theatre production called White Justice which was based in the 1946 Aboriginal strike in the Pilbara and was produced by the Melbourne New Theatre and the Australian Aboriginal League. 

The act of Onus creating a "drama" – a constructed narrative – suggests a deliberate move beyond passive representation as subjects of a white gaze. It speaks to a desire to articulate Indigenous experiences, perspectives, and stories on their own terms, potentially challenging the often-simplistic and dehumanizing portrayals prevalent in mainstream media of the time. The ongoing efforts to understand and contextualize this footage are vital in reclaiming a lost history and acknowledging Indigenous agency in early filmmaking. The documentary Ablaze serves as a powerful reminder of the importance of archival research and the need to actively seek out and amplify marginalized voices.

In 1947, the non-Indigenous director Lee Robinson captured the life and art of Albert Namajira in the documentary Namatjira the Painter (1947). Robinson also cast Namatjira in a small role in the film The Phantom Stockman (1953) with Chips Rafferty. 

The uncredited appearance of Henry Murdoch in Eureka Stockade (1949), another Harry Watt-directed Ealing Studios production, further underscores the precarious and often invisible position of Indigenous actors. Their presence, even in films depicting significant moments in Australian history, was often deemed inconsequential enough to warrant exclusion from the credits. This act of omission reflects a broader societal indifference to Indigenous contributions and a refusal to acknowledge their integral role in the nation’s story, even when that story involved conflict and dispossession..

Ralph Smart’s Bitter Springs (1950), also an Ealing Studios production featuring Henry Murdoch (credited) and around 50 uncredited Indigenous actors including Steve Dodd, while lauded for its attempt to address the issue of settler encroachment and its inclusion of the Pitjantjatjarra language, still operates within the framework of a white-authored narrative. As noted by Liz McNiven in her curation notes for the Australian Screen Online, the focus remains on the moral awakening of the white protagonist, Wally King (Chips Rafferty), and his decision to adopt a more conciliatory approach. While the film’s advocacy for negotiation and resource sharing was progressive for its time, it ultimately positions the white man as the arbiter of justice and the one who grants Indigenous people the right to exist and work on their own land. The rewritten ending, while avoiding a massacre, still reinforces a paternalistic dynamic where Indigenous survival and well-being are dependent on the goodwill of the white settlers. The uncredited presence of around 50 Indigenous actors, while providing a powerful visual representation of the community, also raises questions about their agency and compensation. Were they fairly remunerated? Were their perspectives on the story sought or valued beyond their physical presence? The film, despite its positive intentions, risks perpetuating a narrative where Indigenous people are acted upon rather than acting as agents of their own destiny. The provided clips from the film further illustrate the dynamics between the white settlers and the Indigenous community, prompting critical analysis of the performances and the framing of these relationships.

Charles Chauvel’s Jedda (1955), also released under the title Jedda - the Uncivilised, represents a significant step forward in terms of casting Indigenous actors Ngarla Kunoth and Robert Tudawali in leading roles and focusing the narrative on an Indigenous protagonist. Kunoth’s powerful performance as Jedda and Tudawali’s compelling portrayal of Marbuck brought Indigenous talent and stories to the forefront of Australian cinema in an unprecedented way. The film’s exploration of cultural identity and the devastating consequences of forced assimilation were groundbreaking for their time. However, a sensitive analysis must also acknowledge the limitations inherent in a film directed by a non-Indigenous filmmaker. While Chauvel’s intentions may have been progressive, the narrative is ultimately filtered through a white lens. The tragic ending, where Jedda and Marbuck are depicted as succumbing to their “primitive instincts,” can be interpreted as reinforcing colonial stereotypes about the inherent “savagery” of Indigenous people and the impossibility of bridging the cultural divide. The very title Jedda - the Uncivilised reveals the underlying colonial assumptions about Indigenous culture as being inherently inferior to white civilization.

The decades of obscurity surrounding Onus’s work are deeply telling. This absence underscores the systemic biases and historical amnesia that have characterized the Australian film industry and broader society’s engagement with Indigenous culture. The fact that the first Indigenous-directed film remained lost for so long highlights the urgent need for continued archival research and a commitment to decentering dominant historical narratives. The tireless efforts of Tiriki Onus, Bill’s grandson, and Alec Morgan in uncovering and bringing this history to light through the documentary Ablaze are not just acts of film historical recovery; they are acts of cultural reclamation and intergenerational connection. They serve as a powerful reminder that Indigenous histories and creative contributions are not relics of the past but living legacies that continue to shape our understanding of the present. Bill Onus was not simply a filmmaker; he was a prominent Aboriginal activist and leader. His foray into filmmaking should be understood within the broader context of his lifelong commitment to fighting for Indigenous rights and self-determination. His engagement with the medium of film likely stemmed from a recognition of its power to shape public perception and to disseminate alternative narratives.

In conclusion, the cinema of the 1940s and 1950s in Australia reveals a complex and often contradictory landscape of Indigenous representation. While moments of visibility and even seemingly progressive portrayals existed in films like The Overlanders, Bitter Springs, and the landmark Jedda, they were frequently circumscribed by non-Indigenous perspectives, colonial tropes, and systemic erasure. The groundbreaking work of Bill Onus in 1946, though belatedly recognized, stands as a powerful reminder of Indigenous agency and the desire for self-representation. A sensitive and critical analysis of this era requires us to look beyond the surface-level inclusion and to interrogate the underlying power dynamics, narrative frameworks, and enduring legacies of these early cinematic encounters with Indigenous Australia. It necessitates a commitment to uncovering marginalized voices and challenging the dominant narratives that have historically shaped our understanding of Indigenous presence in film and media. Bill Onus’s pioneering work serves as an inspiration and a crucial reminder of the enduring importance of Indigenous self-representation in shaping a more just and truthful understanding of Australian history and identity.

Overall, the cinema of the 1940s and 1950s in Australia presents a contradictory landscape of visibility and erasure for Indigenous Australians. While mainstream productions like The Overlanders, Bitter Springs, and Jedda offered screen presence and sometimes engaged with Indigenous issues, these narratives were frequently filtered through a non-Indigenous lens, perpetuating colonial tropes and limiting the agency afforded to Indigenous actors within paternalistic frameworks. Against this backdrop, the groundbreaking, yet long-obscured, contribution of Bill Onus and his 1946 documentary footage emerges as a vital act of early Indigenous self-representation, directly challenging the systemic silencing of Indigenous voices. Modern Indigenous Australian perspectives critically assess this era for its reinforcement of harmful stereotypes and its centering of white narratives, even in seemingly progressive projects. Nevertheless, analyzing these films, particularly the pioneering work of Onus, remains crucial for understanding the historical context of Indigenous representation, acknowledging the early efforts towards self-determination, and tracing the ongoing struggle for narrative sovereignty in Australian cinema.

References

Chauvel, C. (Director) (1955) Jedda.

Eckersley, M. (2014, May 26). Australian Indigenous Drama on Film. Australian Indigenous Drama. Available from: https://australianindigenousdrama.blogspot.com/2014/05/australian-indigenous-drama-on-film.html

Griffiths, S. (2002). 'Representing the 'Other': Race, Gender and Nation in Australian Cinema'. In The Oxford Guide to Australian Film (pp. 165-184). Oxford University Press.

Krausz, P. (n.d.). Screening Indigenous Australia: An overview of Aboriginal representation on film. [online] Available at: https://kooriweb.org/foley/resources/media/indigenousfilm.pdf.

Smart, R. (Director) (1950) Bitter Springs. Ealing Studios.

Watt, H. (Director) (1946) The Overlanders.

Watt, H. (Director) (1949) Eureka Stockade. Ealing Studios.

Additional References

Ablaze (2021) Documentary.

Administration (2021). Was activist Bill Onus our first Aboriginal film-maker? [online] The Lighthouse. Available at: https://lighthouse.mq.edu.au/article/july-2021/was-activist-bill-onus-our-first-aboriginal-film-maker

Batty, P. (2007). Black Tracks: Contemporary Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Performance. University of Queensland Press.

Chauvel, C. (1956) Jedda: the uncivilised. Sydney: Scripts.

Gibson, R. (1992). 'The Passion of Dirk Hartog: Historical Archaeology, National Identity and Australian Film'. Continuum: Journal of Media & Cultural Studies, 5(2), 203-225.

Murray, S. (2007) The cinema of Australia. Eastgardens, NSW: McGraw-Hill Australia.

Pike, A. & Cooper, R. (1998) Australian film 1900-1977: A guide to feature film production. Revised edition. Melbourne: Oxford University Press.

Reid, N. (2004) ‘Jedda’ in Australian cinema: pioneers, outsiders and rebels. St Leonards, NSW: Allen & Unwin, pp. 124-133.

Ryan, S. (2014, May 26). Australian Indigenous Drama on Film. Australian Indigenous Drama. Available from: https://australianindigenousdrama.blogspot.com/2014/05/australian-indigenous-drama-on-film.html

Shoemaker, A. (1998) ‘Film’ in A companion to Australian history. Edited by S. Foster & M. French. Melbourne: Oxford University Press, pp. 465-480.

Shoemaker, A. (2004). 'Representations of Aboriginal People in Australian Film'. In The Encyclopedia of Aboriginal Australia (Vol. 2, pp. 908-913). Aboriginal Studies Press.

Smith, R. (2002) Australian film. Melbourne: Schwartz Publishing.

Turner, G. (2006) Film as social practice. 4th edn. London: Routledge.

Williams, D. (1996) Indigenous Australians and the cinema. Cinema Papers no. 108, pp. 12-15

Williams, S. (2003) Ossie Davis Onscreen: Film and Television Performances. Palgrave Macmillan.

Wright, D. (2013) Charles Chauvel: Australia's first film-maker. North Sydney, NSW: Random House Australia.

Additional Academic Papers and Theses

Debenham, J.A. (2013) Representations of Aborigines in Australian Documentary Film 1901 - 2009. PhD thesis, University of Newcastle. Available from: https://nova.newcastle.edu.au/vital/access/services/Download/uon:13508/ATTACHMENT01

Frey, A. (2015) Eco-Fourth Cinema: Indigenous Rights and Environmental Crises. PhD thesis, University of Queensland. Available from: https://espace.library.uq.edu.au/view/UQ:f232a64/s4330872_final_thesis.pdf

Hampson, J. (2010) Reorienting the Feminine Other in Australian Film. BA thesis, University of Queensland. Available from: https://espace.library.uq.edu.au/view/UQ:3b58300/s44184267_final_thesis.pdf

Langton, M. (2003) Beyond the burden of history in Indigenous Australian cinema. Film Studies, 20(1), 36-53.