Lonely Boy Richard is the story of one man's journey to jail and the life that put him there.
Filming began in May 2002 in Richard Wanambi's home community of Yirrkala in the Northern Territory and finished twelve months later in the Supreme Court in Darwin.
The story is based on our extensive research into law and order problems in Aboriginal communities, which was carried out over a two-year period prior to our arrival in Arnhem Land.
We lived, filmed and edited on location in Yirrkala/Nhulunbuy for nine continuous months. During this time we followed many story strands, but it was only during our final weeks that Richard's story began to clearly emerge as the centrepiece of our film.
The Yirrkala community invited us into their world to make this film. They understood, indeed welcomed, our need to spend a long time living and filming in-situ to gain the trust and understanding required from both sides to tell this difficult story.
Access was integral in the making of this observational documentary: access to the community; to Richard, his family and friends; his lawyer in Darwin; local police and the Supreme Court of the Northern Territory.
Our interest in making this film was first sparked by outrage over the introduction of mandatory sentencing in the Northern Territory in 1997. Prison numbers almost doubled as adults were jailed for their first offence, no matter how petty, and juveniles for their second. When a young Aboriginal boy from a remote community hung himself while serving mandatory detention for stealing some felt pens, we were appalled. It was evident that Aboriginal people, with little or no understanding of the white legal system, were the group most affected by these controversial new laws.
We began researching a documentary about mandatory sentencing and its impact on remote Indigenous communities in the Northern Territory. We planned to make a highly personal, observational film that would follow a young offender through the white legal system. See it through our subject's eyes, from a community's perspective.
In June 2001 we began working with Film Australia where Trevor had made many films such as his profile on the life of Eddie Mabo, Mabo-Life of an Island Man and Tosca-A Tale of Love and Torture. We approached Film Executive Mark Hamlyn for development funding for detailed research.
The development funding enabled us to visit two Top End communities: Angurugu on Groote Eylandt where the deceased boy came from; and Yirrkala in north-east Arnhem Land, to talk to Aboriginal leaders, young people, mums and dads about the impact of the tough new laws on their lives. We discovered most had little or no understanding of white laws, least of all the intricacies of mandatory sentencing. In court most couldn't even understand what was being said, as English was invariably their second if not third language.
Soon afterwards Territorians went to the polls and ousted the Country Liberal Party - architects of the zero-tolerance sentencing policy. The incoming Territory Labor Government immediately repealed mandatory sentencing and introduced its own tough, anti-crime legislation. But in effect, nothing much changed.
John Ah Kit, Labor Member for Arnhem and Minister for Correctional Services, famously said, "Our people are going to jail because they want to go to jail, because it's boring out in the communities. There's nothing for them to do".
Aboriginal people still appeared in court more than non-Indigenous offenders and remained grossly over-represented in prison. Jail was not considered shameful or a deterrent as so many men of age "did time" behind bars. Indeed in some Territory communities it is seen as a rite of passage.
Despite the end of mandatory sentencing, we felt an important story was still begging to be told. Mandatory sentencing had been unjust, but was only a symptom of the core problem - the ongoing failure of the white legal system to deal with the complexities of crime and social issues in Australia's Indigenous communities.
In October 2001, with Film Australia's encouragement, we asked the Yirrkala-Dhanbul Council if it would like us to come and work in their community to make a documentary about law and order issues affecting them. We wrote:
"We wish to tell a story about life at Yirrkala. A human story that explains to an audience down south how inadequate the white legal system is in dealing with the social issues facing Indigenous communities. When the same problems come up down south, governments create social programs to fix them. But in the NT the major solution offered by the government is punishment."
The people of Yirrkala, the Yolngu, had been receptive to our documentary proposal during our research trip. We detailed our shift in focus from mandatory sentencing to the underlying law and order problems besetting Indigenous communities. In November 2001 Yirrkala's leaders replied, inviting us to return to "produce a meaningful and accurate account of the issues outlined". They welcomed our desire to spend a long time with them to capture the personal story we still wanted to tell. In December, Executive Producer, Mark Hamlyn took the revised project to the Film Australia Board and full production funding was approved.
Yirrkala is a picturesque community with a proud history. It lies 650 km east of Darwin on the Gove Peninsula. It was established as a Methodist Mission in 1935 and soon became a major settlement for the clans of northeast Arnhem Land. For centuries they had traded with Macassan seafarers, but the modern world arrived on their doorstep only 30 years ago when a huge bauxite mine was built on their land, against their wishes. With it came the new purpose-built mining town of Nhulunbuy with 4000 people, almost all of them white. And a pub.
The Yolngu fought against the mine and pub in court. They lost, but their courage and foresight paved the way for later victories like Mabo and Wik. Yirrkala is famous for its political will, its creativity and art and the strength of its customary law. It is considered a showpiece community. But sadly it too is experiencing serious social problems.
Like elsewhere alcohol abuse and violence are threatening to erode family and community life. It's highly charged ground, shrouded in silence and denial. Yirrkala was no open book on such sensitive terrain, but it had invited us into the community and offered its full support - evidence yet again of their strength and courage in difficult times. And we knew the Yolngu were no strangers to film crews. Yolngu Boy had been just been shot up there. Over the years Yirrkala has hosted filmmakers, anthropologists, historians, politicians and activists from around the world, but most importantly, for us, the Yolngu had had a long and significant relationship with Film Australia.
Between 1970 and 1982 world-renowned ethnographic director Ian Dunlop made eight major filming trips to Yirrkala for Film Australia. He documented aspects of Yolngu life - ceremonies, complex relationships between the people and their clans, their art and rituals, the homelands movement and the impact of the new bauxite mine. Twenty-two films were eventually edited under the title The Yirrkala Film Project - a unique and priceless record of Yolngu life during a historic time.
When we arrived in Gove to begin production of Lonely Boy Richard more than two decades later much had changed, but the initial goodwill and trust extended to us was thanks to our friend Ian Dunlop and his remarkable legacy.
In May 2002 we uprooted from Sydney and set up house at Wallaby Beach, 30km from the Yirrkala community and 10km from the white mining township of Nhulunbuy. Most Indigenous communities suffer acute housing shortages and Yirrkala is no exception. Alcan Gove, which operates the bauxite mine, generously allowed us the use of one of its houses during our nine month stay.
Director Trevor Graham, our two-year-old daughter Angelita and I arrived first, flying in via Darwin. Air and sea are the only access routes into the Gove Peninsula, still one of the most remote corners of Australia.
From day one we began making daily trips to Yirrkala to meet and hang out with people. Richard Wanambi first appeared when we were research-filming six weeks later, Trevor on camera (Sony PD-150) and me recording sound.
We were in the community filming Nami White in the front yard of her home. As she did some wood carvings she urged us to talk to her son Richard (actually, her sister's son - but according to Yolgnu culture, her son), "Go and talk to him. Ask him if you want to know why young people are drinking and doing bad things!" Richard was sitting in a chair and said nothing. He had a black eye and looked a bit scary. It was early days for us and we just didn't end up talking to him. We had no inkling he would become the main subject of our film.
Soon afterwards Trevor began going out at nights to film Dave Simmons and the Night Patrol team as they patrolled the streets of Nhulunbuy township to bring Yolngu drinkers home and keep alcohol out of Yirrkala, a "dry" community. This gave Trevor real insight into the level of alcohol abuse in the community. Several times they picked up Richard. Each time he was "full drunk" and on one occasion quite aggressive.
Trevor started filming the local Aussie Rules games as a way of getting to know the young men of the community. He wound up following one team for the entire season, filming weeknight training sessions and matches every weekend. As a result he was invited along to their drinking nights. Trevor was also invited to film an initiation ceremony, right from the start when the men cut down hollow logs for the ritual ceremonial poles, through to its conclusion many months later. We were also asked to film a traditional funeral ceremony for a beloved community member killed in a devastating helicopter crash.
But it was to Richard and his family that Trevor gravitated to more and more: "Nami's story was compelling from the start. She came across as a heroic figure, a mother and grandmother who was articulate and profound. She'd lost her oldest son in a drunken fight. She was living in fear for her second son, whose drinking bouts had wreaked havoc on the family and landed him in trouble with the police. And she was looking after Richard (her deceased sister's son) who'd committed a terrible crime and was clearly addicted to alcohol."
In mid July producer/editor Denise Haslem, DOP Jenni Meany and sound recordist Ian "Jumbuck" Redfearn arrived for the official shoot. We'd allowed three months, but knew that sticking to a production schedule while making an observational film in an Aboriginal community would be challenging. Here time is irrelevant and everything else - hunting, shopping trips to Nhulunbuy, card and kava sessions, ceremonies and funeral business Ð always take precedence.
During the shoot we experienced first hand one of the most positive and successful initiatives of the Yirrkala community: life on a homeland outstation. In the early 1970s the Yolngu began returning to their ancestral clan lands. They established tiny "outstation" settlements where they resumed a more traditional lifestyle - hunting, painting and raising their families away from the temptations and distractions of "town" life. Trevor and the crew undertook two camping expeditions to an outstation at Gurka'wuy, three hours drive away on the coast, with Nami, her son Jamie and other members of the Wanambi clan. Exquisite scenes were captured of the family living and hunting in the pristine land of their ancestors.
But after four months on location, we were acutely aware we still had no strong storyline. To make the film we came here to make we needed to cover some tough ground. We needed a court case if we were going to film white law and order in action from a community perspective. And for that we needed a crime. Not much seemed to be happening - not while we were around anyway. And people were still relatively shy. Going to jail wasn't shameful, but talking about drinking, violence and crime was. These were uncertain and anxious days for us as filmmakers.
In Yirrkala the crew kept filming daily life. They shot community council meetings, events at Yirrkala School, and they continued filming the football and preparations for the initiation ceremony. They also began spending more time with Richard. He started opening up and telling them more about himself. They filmed him at the pub and around Nhulunbuy. But all too quickly our official shoot time was up. Our DOP and sound recordist had to leave.
Trevor and Denise began looking at the material that had been filmed, translating dialogue and interviews, and assembling rushes. We'd always planned to begin post-production on location. Denise had set up our portable edit suite shortly after her arrival in a room made available for our use at the Yirrkala-Dhanbul Community Council offices. This meant we had a "home" in the heart of the community from which the crew could work. As well, Yolngu could watch rushes with us, work as translators, provide advice on cultural matters as well as sit in on the editing process. We had an "open door" policy and encouraged all comers. This was crucial to the filmmaking process, says Denise.
"We wanted to be as transparent as possible. It was important to show people what we were filming and had filmed of them. In the ceremonies, the football, school meetings and especially when they were drunk."
By September it started to get extremely hot and humid. The "build up" season had arrived. Days, weeks, months were spent with our translators working out English meanings for Yolngu words that cannot be literally translated. Not just words - but meanings or intentions for music, song, dance and images, the whole repertoire that makes up Yolngu Matha. Not any Yolngu speaker would do for these more complex translations. Always the right person, whose clan owned or belonged to that song, dance or painted image had to be found.
After examining the footage with Denise, Trevor felt he should continue following Richard: "I still didn't have it fixed in my brain that he would be our story, but I just felt we should stick with him. I had no idea where it would go. We didn't know the ending. Making this film was like starting a huge jigsaw puzzle. You start with the easy border bits, but as you start to piece it more and more together the picture reveals itself."
Richard was interesting. He was 35 and in trouble with the law. We didn't know what for, but we knew he'd been to jail before. His biological mother was dead. There was ambiguity and community dissention about who his father was. He'd never had a relationship or a job. He'd started drinking when he was 14, but had never had any professional help for his addiction. Some in the community suggested he had "mental problems", yet there was no recognition or understanding that drinking could be a major factor in this, and that most of all he needed help.
Trevor began filming on his own. He caught up with Richard and Jamie at the pub. Soon Richard told Trevor why he was awaiting trial in the Supreme Court: "I was completely shocked. I'd felt quite comfortable with him and I still liked him after he told me what he'd done. What I liked about him was his openness and honesty. He wasn't trying to cover things up. I sensed genuine remorse, but I also knew he was unable or unwilling to give up the drinking. It had such a hold over himÉ His family circumstances were interesting too. They hadn't shunned him. He says in our film that they Ôhate him' because he drinks, but they hadn't abandoned him."
Richard introduced Trevor to his drinking friends living in the "long grass" on Nhulunbuy's outskirts. Trust grew and Trevor was able to explore the nature of Richard's crime and his drinking problem. Gradually it became clear Richard's story was central to our film. We began to investigate the details of his court case in Darwin scheduled for February and the possibility of filming it.
Soon it was Christmas, then New Year and time to pack up and leave. We'd done enough filming with Richard in Arnhem Land and had already stayed much longer than planned. Now we had to wait for events to unfold. The Wet broke in early January and it rained incessantly for our final two weeks, making our job of bumping out difficult.
Back in Sydney we relocated to Film Australia for the final editing stages while also negotiating permission to film aspects of Richard's Supreme Court trial in Darwin. Again, there were many uncertainties: Would we be allowed to film court in court? Would his lawyer co-operate with us? Would we have access to him in jail?
Trevor: "Most things fell into place and some didn't. When Richard went to Darwin I felt I should have been there. We didn't know he was there until we heard he'd landed in Berrimah Jail. If I had been there things may have been very different, but as it was events took their course."
We were granted permission by Justice Sally Thomas to film inside the Supreme Court. Richard's lawyer Gerard Bryant was also willing to be involved. Our only disappointment was that we were refused permission to film Richard in prison. The Northern Territory had a blanket policy against allowing film crews inside its jails at that stage.
Trevor made two filming trips to Darwin where he visited Richard in jail (without a camera) quite a lot. He showed him two cuts of the film as it neared completion, to make sure Richard was still comfortable with his role in it. This is what Richard said:
"Everything is OK with the story. It's minmak (good). I see how silly I was when I'm drunk. That's the way I drunk. I'm a bad drunk. Bad drunk."
Our shoot finished on 27 May 2003, the day Richard's sentence was handed down, twelve months after we began filming in Yirrkala. As Lonely Boy reached fine cut stage these headlines appeared in national newspapers:
"Violence in Aboriginal Communities at Crisis Point...
Brutality Against Women Devastating...
Abuse of Children Beyond Comprehension..."
Highly respected Aboriginal leader Mick Dodson had broken the silence about the level of violence and alcohol abuse in communities. He quoted staggering statistics: "90 percent of Aboriginal families are affected by violence... Aboriginal women are 45 times more likely than other women to be victims of violence... "
He blamed poverty, social exclusion, lack of leadership, economic and welfare dependency and unemployment for causing "a volatile cocktail of despair, anger, powerlessness and hopelessness. And he called on everyone from the Prime Minister down to help. "This is not just our problem. This is everyone's problem."
Rosemary Hesp
Writer/co-producer
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