How Can We Dance While Our Beds Are Burning? Juliette Brown

AUTHOR // JULIETTE BROWN

CONTENT WARNING: NSW/Victoria Bushfires

Warm bodies swayed against the warm Byron breeze, the Valley Stage Music Festival was an ocean of colour against a tie-dyed sky. The relaxed, breathy tunes of Tash Sultana morphed, in an intoxicated haze, into the anticipatory builds and drops of Pnau, as excitement built for 2020. The countdown at Falls Festival was as revelrous as ever. Peking Duk’s set electrified the decade, with a sensory overload of sound and light. It was almost possible to forget that for most of the NSW coast, the New Year was heralded by an eerie silence and a sombre orange sky, as Australians were fighting to defend their homes and get their families to safety, in arguably the most prolonged and widespread fire season in Australia’s modern history.

But maybe that’s the point. Psychedelic festivals have always been associated with escapism, dating back to the first Woodstock Music Festival in 1969. The festival bloomed against a backdrop of the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights Movement as an opportunity for hippies to connect through music and ‘make love, not war’. Similarly, we could have seen an intensified mood of escapism in this year’s summer festivals. However, I don’t think we did. Looking back, at least at Byron Bay Falls, the mood felt more sobered than mellow. People were still having fun with their friends and enjoying the music, but in a way that felt more measured and less hedonistic. Everyone had booked, ready to rejoice in a new decade of new possibilities, never imagining the tragedy that would befall their communities. This left them unsure of whether it was right to celebrate, and perhaps, without enough time to conceptualise an appropriate response to the festival experience, within the unique niche of protest culture that festival culture historically inhabits. Is it right to celebrate amid national disaster? Opinions seem to differ, at least amongst our country’s civic leaders. Sydney controversially decided to go ahead with its iconic New Year’s firework display in the name of continuing tradition, according to Sydney Lord Mayor Clover Moore. By contrast, Canberra decided to cancel its fireworks display, instead donating to bushfire relief programs. And let’s not forget Prime Minister Scott Morrison’s notorious Hawaiian escape, which will likely be remembered as the crowning symbol of his poor leadership during this crisis.

Yet, these celebratory displays were public and costly. What about the normal Australian? Should they feel guilty for merrily ringing in the New Year? Commemoration can be seen as a celebration of life or mourning of death. Perhaps, some may have seen the new year as an opportunity to toast our brave firefighters and the temerity of the Australian spirit, with newfound gratitude for the ones they love.

It will be interesting to see what Australia Day looks like this year, as Australians reflect upon all that we have lost, including over one billion animals, two thousand houses and ten million acres of bushland. Arguably, the very rituals we commonly practice in celebrating our nation on January 26 – underpinned by recklessness, unnecessary consumerism, and the trashing of natural resources – shamefully epitomise the role Australians have played in the destruction of our country’s ecosystem. The luck of the ‘Lucky Country’ can only go so far.

JOJO RABBIT: WHY MUST WE NOT FORGET

AUTHOR // TARA FINLAY

CONTENT WARNING: Antisemitism, War

A ten-year-old boy in Nazi Germany, his imaginary friend Adolf Hitler, and a Jewish girl hiding in the walls of his house presents an extraordinarily poignant, yet humorous, story in Jojo Rabbit. The film succeeds in walking a delicate line between comedy and drama. It is at times entertaining and satirical, and at other times carries a buoyant message of the brutal effects of war, especially on children.

The film is based on the historical novel Caging Skies by Christine Leunen. She writes of a Nazi boy who, upon discovering a Jewish girl in his attic, begins to question his blind nationalism.

The movie is set near the end of World War II, where Germany is facing massive defeats. Roman Griffin Davis plays Jojo Betzler, a young boy focused on becoming the very best Nazi he can be. Guiding him is his best friend, mentor, and confidante: an imaginary Adolf Hitler. Jojo, nicknamed ‘Jojo Rabbit’ for his refusal to kill a rabbit when ordered to by his Hitler Youth commander, is depicted as a frightened and innocent little boy desperate to be part of a club. When he discovers that his mother is hiding a young Jewish girl, Elsa, in his house, he begins to question his entire worldview. Jojo finds himself warming towards Elsa, her caustic charm and humour forcing him to change his fanatical view of Nazism. As his relationship with Elsa grows, his relationship with ‘Imaginary Hitler’ worsens. The initial endearing wit of Hitler morphs into the monster we all know.

Director Taika Waititi has chosen a talented cast, with Critics’ Choice Award Winner Roman Griffin Davis, Scarlett Johansson, Sam Rockwell, Rebel Wilson, and Stephen Merchant. However, especially notable are all the child actors in the film, who movingly portray the devastating effects of war from the point of view of a child. Waititi has divided critics of this film for using humour to satirise the Nazi regime. He is known for testing his audience’s humour in his other movies such as Hunt for the Wilderpeople and Thor: Ragnarok. Comedy has been used to poke holes in Hitler’s ideology since Charlie Chaplin’s The Great Dictator. However, Nazi comedies walk a fine line. At their best, they can allow the audience to reflect on the horror of the time. But at their worst, they allow viewers to detach themselves from the past. Waititi, however, demonstrates his exceptional skills in creating a balance between comedy and gravity. The audience is left laughing at the absurdity of the Nazi Regime, while at the same time confronted with the atrocities of war. The final message of the film is simply how stupid war is!

While this film may not have been intended to align with the looming shadow of the possibility of World War III, it has certainly chosen an important time to be released. With the tensions between Iran and the United States boiling dangerously close to the point of war, we need now more than ever to be reminded that war should be something to avoid at all costs. If the atrocities of war begin to fall away from society’s collective memory, then we are in real danger of repeating past mistakes. This film, while enjoyable, reminds us that the lessons of past wars should never be forgotten.