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Does Sir Joh remind you of someone else?

Joh - the Last King of Queensland MA 15+, 98 minutes, Stan 4 Stars What was it about Joh Bjelke-Petersen, the outlandish state premier who drove a tractor through the democratic process in Queensland and then made a move on Canberra? The string of colourful, catchy phrases that people use to nail his outsize personality in this new documentary profile range from force of nature to corrupt bastard, with one standout. That Joh wrote the playbook for Trump. That's it. As we keep asking ourselves, as though in the grip of OCD, how the US could have come up with such a president, twice, this film is particularly timely. While it's unlikely Trump noted the remarkable success Down Under of the state's National Party leader from 1968 to 1987, it seems fair to say that these two men, similar in typology, share a political mindset that developed while they built their business empires with free rein. This is a timely political documentary, replete with archival footage, interviews with members of the Bjelke-Petersen family, and a wide range of expert opinion. Director Kriv Stenders, who shares screenwriting credits with author and journalist Matthew Condon, offers a portrait of a politician whose influence was long-lasting, and polarising. A touch of docudrama appears every now and then in scenes with actor Richard Roxburgh as Joh, reminding us of his commanding personality, his fumbling speaking style and slight limp. These scenes reimagine Joh's final days in power, inspired by the fact that he actually did lock himself in his office, refusing to accept that he had been stood down. It is very effective, as Roxburgh prowls the stage in declaratory mode, justifying his character's actions, insisting on the value of his legacy. The opening sequences didn't need to be so emphatic but the tone quickly fades, in the transition to interviews with Joh's son and daughters providing insight into the family man. A rural upbringing in tough circumstances when he helped his father with the milking before school, had developed a work ethic and approach to problem-solving. He left school early anyway and forged a thriving business in clearing bushland across the Downs. There was some peanut farming on the side, but it was his bush clearing business with tractors and anchor chain that made him a wealthy man. From sun-up until sundown and into the night, it was a solitary life until his 30s, when he married. Some more on his wife Flo, who became a politician in her own right, would have been a further interesting dimension. There is an impressive line-up of expert opinion assembled here. There are contributions from journalists Quentin Dempster and Chris Masters, political analyst Amy Remeikis, lawyer Terry O'Gorman, psephologist Antony Green, historian Frank Bongiorno and fellow Queensland politicians Bob Katter and David Littleproud. It is almost a surfeit of material for a feature of standard running time. A limited series would have also worked well. The reflections on Bjelke-Petersen's influence on Queenslanders in how they were encouraged to see themselves are intriguing. Authoritarian towards opposition forces in its own community, his regime polarised the Queensland community for decades. The gerrymander, by which country votes were worth more than city votes, kept him in power while he fanned hostility towards the federal system. Long years in power seemed to go to Bjelke-Petersen's head as he quelled the anti-apartheid protesters during a tour by the Springboks declaring a state of emergency. The footage of the police crackdown show how vicious their response was. Over an impressive career, filmmaker Stenders has shown considerable range, from the lovable family favourite Red Dog to the recent menacing political drama The Correspondent. The same can be said of Condon, author of a biography of Terry Lewis, a former Queensland commissioner of police under Bjelke-Petersen who was jailed for corruption. If the doco has insufficient detail on how Joh and his supporters were able to maintain a rigged state electoral system to stay in power, it is completely clear about the culture of police corruption that had taken hold in Queensland. Joh was never found legally responsible for the rot, but it's hard to accept that he was unaware of it and didn't manipulate it for his own purposes. As someone observes, Joh's concept of democracy was that he'd been voted for, so he could do what he wished. Sounds familiar. Joh - the Last King of Queensland MA 15+, 98 minutes, Stan 4 Stars What was it about Joh Bjelke-Petersen, the outlandish state premier who drove a tractor through the democratic process in Queensland and then made a move on Canberra? The string of colourful, catchy phrases that people use to nail his outsize personality in this new documentary profile range from force of nature to corrupt bastard, with one standout. That Joh wrote the playbook for Trump. That's it. As we keep asking ourselves, as though in the grip of OCD, how the US could have come up with such a president, twice, this film is particularly timely. While it's unlikely Trump noted the remarkable success Down Under of the state's National Party leader from 1968 to 1987, it seems fair to say that these two men, similar in typology, share a political mindset that developed while they built their business empires with free rein. This is a timely political documentary, replete with archival footage, interviews with members of the Bjelke-Petersen family, and a wide range of expert opinion. Director Kriv Stenders, who shares screenwriting credits with author and journalist Matthew Condon, offers a portrait of a politician whose influence was long-lasting, and polarising. A touch of docudrama appears every now and then in scenes with actor Richard Roxburgh as Joh, reminding us of his commanding personality, his fumbling speaking style and slight limp. These scenes reimagine Joh's final days in power, inspired by the fact that he actually did lock himself in his office, refusing to accept that he had been stood down. It is very effective, as Roxburgh prowls the stage in declaratory mode, justifying his character's actions, insisting on the value of his legacy. The opening sequences didn't need to be so emphatic but the tone quickly fades, in the transition to interviews with Joh's son and daughters providing insight into the family man. A rural upbringing in tough circumstances when he helped his father with the milking before school, had developed a work ethic and approach to problem-solving. He left school early anyway and forged a thriving business in clearing bushland across the Downs. There was some peanut farming on the side, but it was his bush clearing business with tractors and anchor chain that made him a wealthy man. From sun-up until sundown and into the night, it was a solitary life until his 30s, when he married. Some more on his wife Flo, who became a politician in her own right, would have been a further interesting dimension. There is an impressive line-up of expert opinion assembled here. There are contributions from journalists Quentin Dempster and Chris Masters, political analyst Amy Remeikis, lawyer Terry O'Gorman, psephologist Antony Green, historian Frank Bongiorno and fellow Queensland politicians Bob Katter and David Littleproud. It is almost a surfeit of material for a feature of standard running time. A limited series would have also worked well. The reflections on Bjelke-Petersen's influence on Queenslanders in how they were encouraged to see themselves are intriguing. Authoritarian towards opposition forces in its own community, his regime polarised the Queensland community for decades. The gerrymander, by which country votes were worth more than city votes, kept him in power while he fanned hostility towards the federal system. Long years in power seemed to go to Bjelke-Petersen's head as he quelled the anti-apartheid protesters during a tour by the Springboks declaring a state of emergency. The footage of the police crackdown show how vicious their response was. Over an impressive career, filmmaker Stenders has shown considerable range, from the lovable family favourite Red Dog to the recent menacing political drama The Correspondent. The same can be said of Condon, author of a biography of Terry Lewis, a former Queensland commissioner of police under Bjelke-Petersen who was jailed for corruption. If the doco has insufficient detail on how Joh and his supporters were able to maintain a rigged state electoral system to stay in power, it is completely clear about the culture of police corruption that had taken hold in Queensland. Joh was never found legally responsible for the rot, but it's hard to accept that he was unaware of it and didn't manipulate it for his own purposes. As someone observes, Joh's concept of democracy was that he'd been voted for, so he could do what he wished. Sounds familiar. Joh - the Last King of Queensland MA 15+, 98 minutes, Stan 4 Stars What was it about Joh Bjelke-Petersen, the outlandish state premier who drove a tractor through the democratic process in Queensland and then made a move on Canberra? The string of colourful, catchy phrases that people use to nail his outsize personality in this new documentary profile range from force of nature to corrupt bastard, with one standout. That Joh wrote the playbook for Trump. That's it. As we keep asking ourselves, as though in the grip of OCD, how the US could have come up with such a president, twice, this film is particularly timely. While it's unlikely Trump noted the remarkable success Down Under of the state's National Party leader from 1968 to 1987, it seems fair to say that these two men, similar in typology, share a political mindset that developed while they built their business empires with free rein. This is a timely political documentary, replete with archival footage, interviews with members of the Bjelke-Petersen family, and a wide range of expert opinion. Director Kriv Stenders, who shares screenwriting credits with author and journalist Matthew Condon, offers a portrait of a politician whose influence was long-lasting, and polarising. A touch of docudrama appears every now and then in scenes with actor Richard Roxburgh as Joh, reminding us of his commanding personality, his fumbling speaking style and slight limp. These scenes reimagine Joh's final days in power, inspired by the fact that he actually did lock himself in his office, refusing to accept that he had been stood down. It is very effective, as Roxburgh prowls the stage in declaratory mode, justifying his character's actions, insisting on the value of his legacy. The opening sequences didn't need to be so emphatic but the tone quickly fades, in the transition to interviews with Joh's son and daughters providing insight into the family man. A rural upbringing in tough circumstances when he helped his father with the milking before school, had developed a work ethic and approach to problem-solving. He left school early anyway and forged a thriving business in clearing bushland across the Downs. There was some peanut farming on the side, but it was his bush clearing business with tractors and anchor chain that made him a wealthy man. From sun-up until sundown and into the night, it was a solitary life until his 30s, when he married. Some more on his wife Flo, who became a politician in her own right, would have been a further interesting dimension. There is an impressive line-up of expert opinion assembled here. There are contributions from journalists Quentin Dempster and Chris Masters, political analyst Amy Remeikis, lawyer Terry O'Gorman, psephologist Antony Green, historian Frank Bongiorno and fellow Queensland politicians Bob Katter and David Littleproud. It is almost a surfeit of material for a feature of standard running time. A limited series would have also worked well. The reflections on Bjelke-Petersen's influence on Queenslanders in how they were encouraged to see themselves are intriguing. Authoritarian towards opposition forces in its own community, his regime polarised the Queensland community for decades. The gerrymander, by which country votes were worth more than city votes, kept him in power while he fanned hostility towards the federal system. Long years in power seemed to go to Bjelke-Petersen's head as he quelled the anti-apartheid protesters during a tour by the Springboks declaring a state of emergency. The footage of the police crackdown show how vicious their response was. Over an impressive career, filmmaker Stenders has shown considerable range, from the lovable family favourite Red Dog to the recent menacing political drama The Correspondent. The same can be said of Condon, author of a biography of Terry Lewis, a former Queensland commissioner of police under Bjelke-Petersen who was jailed for corruption. If the doco has insufficient detail on how Joh and his supporters were able to maintain a rigged state electoral system to stay in power, it is completely clear about the culture of police corruption that had taken hold in Queensland. Joh was never found legally responsible for the rot, but it's hard to accept that he was unaware of it and didn't manipulate it for his own purposes. As someone observes, Joh's concept of democracy was that he'd been voted for, so he could do what he wished. Sounds familiar. Joh - the Last King of Queensland MA 15+, 98 minutes, Stan 4 Stars What was it about Joh Bjelke-Petersen, the outlandish state premier who drove a tractor through the democratic process in Queensland and then made a move on Canberra? The string of colourful, catchy phrases that people use to nail his outsize personality in this new documentary profile range from force of nature to corrupt bastard, with one standout. That Joh wrote the playbook for Trump. That's it. As we keep asking ourselves, as though in the grip of OCD, how the US could have come up with such a president, twice, this film is particularly timely. While it's unlikely Trump noted the remarkable success Down Under of the state's National Party leader from 1968 to 1987, it seems fair to say that these two men, similar in typology, share a political mindset that developed while they built their business empires with free rein. This is a timely political documentary, replete with archival footage, interviews with members of the Bjelke-Petersen family, and a wide range of expert opinion. Director Kriv Stenders, who shares screenwriting credits with author and journalist Matthew Condon, offers a portrait of a politician whose influence was long-lasting, and polarising. A touch of docudrama appears every now and then in scenes with actor Richard Roxburgh as Joh, reminding us of his commanding personality, his fumbling speaking style and slight limp. These scenes reimagine Joh's final days in power, inspired by the fact that he actually did lock himself in his office, refusing to accept that he had been stood down. It is very effective, as Roxburgh prowls the stage in declaratory mode, justifying his character's actions, insisting on the value of his legacy. The opening sequences didn't need to be so emphatic but the tone quickly fades, in the transition to interviews with Joh's son and daughters providing insight into the family man. A rural upbringing in tough circumstances when he helped his father with the milking before school, had developed a work ethic and approach to problem-solving. He left school early anyway and forged a thriving business in clearing bushland across the Downs. There was some peanut farming on the side, but it was his bush clearing business with tractors and anchor chain that made him a wealthy man. From sun-up until sundown and into the night, it was a solitary life until his 30s, when he married. Some more on his wife Flo, who became a politician in her own right, would have been a further interesting dimension. There is an impressive line-up of expert opinion assembled here. There are contributions from journalists Quentin Dempster and Chris Masters, political analyst Amy Remeikis, lawyer Terry O'Gorman, psephologist Antony Green, historian Frank Bongiorno and fellow Queensland politicians Bob Katter and David Littleproud. It is almost a surfeit of material for a feature of standard running time. A limited series would have also worked well. The reflections on Bjelke-Petersen's influence on Queenslanders in how they were encouraged to see themselves are intriguing. Authoritarian towards opposition forces in its own community, his regime polarised the Queensland community for decades. The gerrymander, by which country votes were worth more than city votes, kept him in power while he fanned hostility towards the federal system. Long years in power seemed to go to Bjelke-Petersen's head as he quelled the anti-apartheid protesters during a tour by the Springboks declaring a state of emergency. The footage of the police crackdown show how vicious their response was. Over an impressive career, filmmaker Stenders has shown considerable range, from the lovable family favourite Red Dog to the recent menacing political drama The Correspondent. The same can be said of Condon, author of a biography of Terry Lewis, a former Queensland commissioner of police under Bjelke-Petersen who was jailed for corruption. If the doco has insufficient detail on how Joh and his supporters were able to maintain a rigged state electoral system to stay in power, it is completely clear about the culture of police corruption that had taken hold in Queensland. Joh was never found legally responsible for the rot, but it's hard to accept that he was unaware of it and didn't manipulate it for his own purposes. As someone observes, Joh's concept of democracy was that he'd been voted for, so he could do what he wished. Sounds familiar.