Cinematic Chewing Gum
Recently I’ve caught a number of episodes of a light-weight documentary series that has been on high rotation on TV. Each episode showcases the rise of a particular food industry product with the trajectory typically following this well worn path:
A young man comes up with a novel idea for a new food product
The new product struggles to find a market
The young man develops a novel marketing strategy
The product takes off and usually through a number peaks and troughs becomes a household name
One such episode followed the rise of Wrigley’s chewing gum. I’ve never really thought of chewing gum as a food product. I consider it more an environmental hazard given how often it has ended up stuck to my shoe. But the episode did trigger a thought that relates to some of my experiences watching films.
I can’t actually remember the last time I chewed gum, but I do remember the experience:
You start to chew and the gum releases a strong burst of flavour
Before long the flavour starts to fade
After about an hour the gum grows increasingly hard to chew
Not long after, once all the flavour is gone, it becomes bitter and you develop an irresistible desire to spit it out.
And finally it is disposed of in a variety of ways, many of which demonstrate a disregard for others.
It struck me that this is also the trajectory of my experiences when watching a number of films. I’ve experienced that burst of flavour that is released through the promotions, the roadshows and the trailers which have made me want to go to the cinema or to stream the film. Once the film starts the ‘flavour’ can start to fade, sometimes so slowly it is imperceptible, and sometimes before the end credits have begun to roll. I really don’t like walking out of a film, but sometimes it does literally become ‘too hard to chew’, so I head for the exit.
And that bitter taste? Sometimes it hits me in the cinema, or as I’m walking out the door, and sometimes it hits many years later when I re-watch a film I once liked. And to be honest, it’s that delayed onset bitterness that upsets me more. It makes me question my taste in film, and it’s an experience of loss, of one less film I can return to and to enjoy again, and hopefully again and again.
And a bit like that chewing gum that gets stuck to your shoe, these films can leave you with an irritation that is sticky and difficult to shift. They find you, usually on television whether it be in standard re-runs or as a part of an anniversary screening. And some of them return to the cinema.
Case in point…Crocodile Dundee which was first released 40 years ago and has been slated for an anniversary re-release. Australians are very familiar with Paul Hogan and his history, but for everyone else: Hogan was a painter on the Sydney Harbour Bridge who rose to fame on a TV talent show called New Faces. As his popularity grew he was offered his own sketch TV show (The Paul Hogan Show), which was immensely popular especially among my friends at Primary School. I recall watching it, I thought it was amusing in a silly way, but I didn’t find it as riotously funny as my school mates did.
While he made a number of highly successful cigarette and beer ads, I have clearer memories of Hogan from his tourism ads, standing on top of the Harbour bridge. In 1985 he was named Australian of the year, and the following year Crocodile Dundee drove him to international fame.
I went to see Crocodile Dundee at the cinema and while I found it reasonably entertaining I was probably more impressed with the high production values, its widespread popularity and the international success which elevated Australia and Australians in everyone’s eyes.
I subsequently went to work in the US in 1992 by which time the only Australian those I met seemed to know was Mick Dundee (or Paul Hogan, though the two seemed interchangeable to them). I lost count of how many times I smiled and nodded in good humour when greeted with ‘G’Day Mate’ or ‘That’s not a knife…’.
In hindsight, that was the first bit of Dundee chewing gum that stuck to my shoe.
Several years back they began re-releasing episodes of The Paul Hogan Show. I was shocked and surprised at how lame the humour was and how heavily it relied on sexist and racist stereotypes. And it led to my first re-appraisal of Dundee.
While the film makes regular reappearances on TV, for years I actively avoided watching it suspecting that, much like Hogan, it had aged badly. When the film came up in conversation I would repeatedly dismiss it until finally I felt I needed to watch it again.
And it is terrible.
Crocodile Dundee is a piece of cinematic chewing gum. When it was first released there was the bold flavour of its originality. Its flavour had begun to fade by the time of Crocodile Dundee II and had become hard to chew and increasingly bitter by the time of the Razzie award winning Crocodile Dundee in Los Angeles and The Very Excellent Mr Dundee.
I’m not disparaging Paul Hogan. He was a product of his times, he was a huge success, and he at one time brought audiences a great deal of joy. He was even nominated for an Oscar, two BAFTAs and won a Golden Globe.
The point is: when it comes to cinematic chewing gum, much like actual chewing gum, once you’ve spat it out… don’t even think of going back for one more chew. And if, when you think of Australian film, Crocodile Dundee is the first thing that comes to mind… you’ve missed all the good stuff.