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Sydney Morning Herald
13 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘As an older woman, courage starts to wobble': How Marta Dusseldorp finds her strength
This story is part of the June 8 edition of Sunday Life. See all 14 stories. Walking through the rainforest in the remote west of her adopted Tasmanian home, actor Marta Dusseldorp finds beauty and brutality along the banks that are home to rare Huon pine. At one junction, the clear water of one river meets the yellow, soupy water of another, poisoned by copper mining tailings. 'It's just extraordinary, the confluence of man and nature,' says Sydney-born and raised Dusseldorp, 52, who, more than seven years ago, moved to the island state with actor-director husband Ben Winspear and their two daughters, Grace and Maggie. Dusseldorp has just completed shooting the second season of ABC TV comedy-drama Bay of Fires, which she co-created, co-produced and stars. Filming took place again in the well-preserved main street of the small Tasmanian town of Zeehan, known for silver mining. But this spot, where the King and Queen rivers meet, proved a more elusive location. 'I tried to film there, but it's really hard to get to, and the safety issues weren't going to quite work.' Surrounding mountains and valleys have nonetheless provided picturesque settings for the appealing Tassie-noir, to which Dusseldorp's picaresque character Anika fled with her two children after death threats were made against her in her former corporate life in Melbourne. Anika took on the alias Stella, and hid among a cohort of eccentric, protected witnesses: there is heroin being cooked, a religious cult that has arranged marriages, and an assassin waiting for the aliens to descend. The second season has capitalism and greed on its themes as the townsfolk pressure Stella for more payouts from her corporate scam, which has already netted them $3.4 million, and inflationary pressures have pushed the price of bread to $23 a loaf. New threats may yet force Stella into the drug trade with her old foe Frankie (Kerry Fox), presumed dead by all at the end of the first season. Like the twists in her show, life in the smallest Australian state has delivered what Dusseldorp did not predict: fertile, imaginative ground. While her husband was born in Wagga Wagga, he'd grown up in Hobart, and they both wanted their children to experience the Tasmanian lifestyle. But they did not know how long they would stay. The couple found a network of like-minded actors, writers and directors, and started their own production company, Archipelago. Tasmania is also home to mycelium, the underground network of fungi threads that shares water and nutrients between trees, and which Dusseldorp says is a metaphor for the artist-community connections she's found in the state. The culture here appears to stimulate both artistic growth and biodiversity. Living here, says Dusseldorp, 'stops the clutter and gives you focus. You can get a lot done in Tassie as connections are just one step away.' Today, Dusseldorp is wearing a fawn trench coat in the lobby of her Sydney hotel and drinking lemongrass tea with honey. Several years ago, life was more frenetic as she dominated television screens in three popular series: Janet King, A Place to Call Home and Jack Irish. As if the pressures of playing the lead in the first two shows were not enough, Dusseldorp would also carve out three months each year between TV seasons to do a theatre play, including War of the Roses, The Crucible, Scenes from a Marriage and A Doll's House, Part 2. Theatre became her 'weird' way of researching what the public was feeling, she reflects now, which helped her decide when she went back onto a TV set if she was playing her long-running screen characters 'too tough or not tough enough'. '[Audiences] come as these beasts, and they sit as one, like in a colosseum, and then turn on you,' she observes. 'If they don't like [the play] or whatever, you have to work out a way to re-engage them, unite them, and give them something to go home with; it's like being a conductor. You find out politically where people are at and what's funny, because it changes depending on the climate.' The Australian playwright Benedict Andrews said Dusseldorp is a 'very brave and captivating and muscular actress'. (She played the eponymous lead in his 2016 play Gloria.) 'Oh my god,' says Dusseldorp when I remind her of performing this role in Sydney's tiny 105-seat Stables Theatre. ' Gloria was a very particular beast. She was basically a cry from me about what it felt like to be in the spotlight. Benedict did a really great job of showing the internal shattering of Gloria as a mother and a partner, and what the costs are of [fame]. 'I didn't want to fully acknowledge [the costs of fame], and when I don't want to acknowledge something, I do a play about it, so I can be somebody else, live it out, and go, 'Got that out of my system!' I would often go home and fall in a heap, but it was done. Theatre is like severance: there it is, I did that, and I went through it, and now I'm OK.' Dusseldorp met Winspear in 2003 when they were working on separate Sydney Theatre Company productions. 'He was like a ship: solid, unique,' Dusseldorp told me in a 2013 interview. The attraction was such that she 'had to splash cold water on my face'. Since moving to Tasmania, Winspear has directed Dusseldorp in the plays The Bleeding Tree, The Maids and Women of Troy. What's her take on their relationship now? 'We still walk side by side, which I really love,' she says. 'And there's an intent to be the custodians of our daughters forever, and make sure we guide them as best we can. Our work together is sacred, so we try to make sure it's filled with honesty, mutual respect, care.' In 2013, when I visited the couple's home in Sydney's Edgecliff, Winspear was preparing the evening meal for Grace, then almost 6, and Maggie, 3. He said he was mindful of how acting and directing obligations can invert family life, so they resisted employing childcare. 'His love of his family is his north star,' says Dusseldorp now. 'It comes down to mutual respect in a long-term relationship, understanding that people have their own ways of doing things, and trying to learn from that.' Grace is now 18 and has left Tasmania to live in Sydney. A budding writer, she is studying English literature. 'She's written a TV series about the family, which I have not seen yet,' Dusseldorp laughs, 'and I have the right to vet, I've told her! Sometimes when we have a family situation, I see her jotting things down and I'm like, 'What is that?'.' Maggie, now 15, and like her sister was often on the set of her mother's shows. 'My kids feel very comfortable socially with adults because they've always been around them.' Dusseldorp is mindful that with privilege comes responsibility. She is producing a film with a domestic-violence theme that is yet to go into production. She is also on the board of the Sydney-based charity, the Dusseldorp Forum, formed in 1989 by her late paternal grandfather, Dick Dusseldorp, founder of construction giant Lend Lease. The forum aims to improve education, health and social outcomes for children and their families through community-led projects. After our interview, Dusseldorp is going to visit her sister Teya, who is the forum's executive director. Her younger twin brothers Tom and Joe are also on the board. Missing from this story of tight siblings is brother Yoris, lost to cancer in infancy when Dusseldorp was eight. 'When I lost my brother, I realised that life comes for everyone in very unexpected ways, and that the person opposite you may have had a particular experience that you need to listen to and care about.' I ask Dusseldorp if she has a book in her. She laughs. 'If I do, it's just for me,' she says. 'I think it might help to put some stuff in order so I can work out what makes me creative, that way I can avoid losing courage. And maybe that's why people do it.' She reflects now on the road ahead; she hopes for a third season of Bay of Fires, and that the roles she plays, as well as creates, continue to have meaning; she doesn't want to just work for the sake of it. 'As an older woman, courage starts to wobble,' she says. 'I want to keep my courage until the very end, and I'm finding that right now I'm having to remind myself of that. That's partly because you become slightly invisible [as an older woman], less relevant possibly, and post-menopause, you need to redefine yourself.' Loading She adds women are finding strength in banding together post-menopause to 'bash through' the suffering of being ignored in this next stage of life. I suggest that shows such as Bay of Fires have proved there is an audience for engaging stories focused on older women. 'I think so,' she agrees. 'The courage to turn up is now something for me, but I want to have something to say. You've got to have a reason to be there, otherwise, shush!' Bay of Fires season two premieres on June 15 on ABC TV and iView.
The Age
13 hours ago
- Entertainment
- The Age
‘As an older woman, courage starts to wobble': How Marta Dusseldorp finds her strength
This story is part of the June 8 edition of Sunday Life. See all 14 stories. Walking through the rainforest in the remote west of her adopted Tasmanian home, actor Marta Dusseldorp finds beauty and brutality along the banks that are home to rare Huon pine. At one junction, the clear water of one river meets the yellow, soupy water of another, poisoned by copper mining tailings. 'It's just extraordinary, the confluence of man and nature,' says Sydney-born and raised Dusseldorp, 52, who, more than seven years ago, moved to the island state with actor-director husband Ben Winspear and their two daughters, Grace and Maggie. Dusseldorp has just completed shooting the second season of ABC TV comedy-drama Bay of Fires, which she co-created, co-produced and stars. Filming took place again in the well-preserved main street of the small Tasmanian town of Zeehan, known for silver mining. But this spot, where the King and Queen rivers meet, proved a more elusive location. 'I tried to film there, but it's really hard to get to, and the safety issues weren't going to quite work.' Surrounding mountains and valleys have nonetheless provided picturesque settings for the appealing Tassie-noir, to which Dusseldorp's picaresque character Anika fled with her two children after death threats were made against her in her former corporate life in Melbourne. Anika took on the alias Stella, and hid among a cohort of eccentric, protected witnesses: there is heroin being cooked, a religious cult that has arranged marriages, and an assassin waiting for the aliens to descend. The second season has capitalism and greed on its themes as the townsfolk pressure Stella for more payouts from her corporate scam, which has already netted them $3.4 million, and inflationary pressures have pushed the price of bread to $23 a loaf. New threats may yet force Stella into the drug trade with her old foe Frankie (Kerry Fox), presumed dead by all at the end of the first season. Like the twists in her show, life in the smallest Australian state has delivered what Dusseldorp did not predict: fertile, imaginative ground. While her husband was born in Wagga Wagga, he'd grown up in Hobart, and they both wanted their children to experience the Tasmanian lifestyle. But they did not know how long they would stay. The couple found a network of like-minded actors, writers and directors, and started their own production company, Archipelago. Tasmania is also home to mycelium, the underground network of fungi threads that shares water and nutrients between trees, and which Dusseldorp says is a metaphor for the artist-community connections she's found in the state. The culture here appears to stimulate both artistic growth and biodiversity. Living here, says Dusseldorp, 'stops the clutter and gives you focus. You can get a lot done in Tassie as connections are just one step away.' Today, Dusseldorp is wearing a fawn trench coat in the lobby of her Sydney hotel and drinking lemongrass tea with honey. Several years ago, life was more frenetic as she dominated television screens in three popular series: Janet King, A Place to Call Home and Jack Irish. As if the pressures of playing the lead in the first two shows were not enough, Dusseldorp would also carve out three months each year between TV seasons to do a theatre play, including War of the Roses, The Crucible, Scenes from a Marriage and A Doll's House, Part 2. Theatre became her 'weird' way of researching what the public was feeling, she reflects now, which helped her decide when she went back onto a TV set if she was playing her long-running screen characters 'too tough or not tough enough'. '[Audiences] come as these beasts, and they sit as one, like in a colosseum, and then turn on you,' she observes. 'If they don't like [the play] or whatever, you have to work out a way to re-engage them, unite them, and give them something to go home with; it's like being a conductor. You find out politically where people are at and what's funny, because it changes depending on the climate.' The Australian playwright Benedict Andrews said Dusseldorp is a 'very brave and captivating and muscular actress'. (She played the eponymous lead in his 2016 play Gloria.) 'Oh my god,' says Dusseldorp when I remind her of performing this role in Sydney's tiny 105-seat Stables Theatre. ' Gloria was a very particular beast. She was basically a cry from me about what it felt like to be in the spotlight. Benedict did a really great job of showing the internal shattering of Gloria as a mother and a partner, and what the costs are of [fame]. 'I didn't want to fully acknowledge [the costs of fame], and when I don't want to acknowledge something, I do a play about it, so I can be somebody else, live it out, and go, 'Got that out of my system!' I would often go home and fall in a heap, but it was done. Theatre is like severance: there it is, I did that, and I went through it, and now I'm OK.' Dusseldorp met Winspear in 2003 when they were working on separate Sydney Theatre Company productions. 'He was like a ship: solid, unique,' Dusseldorp told me in a 2013 interview. The attraction was such that she 'had to splash cold water on my face'. Since moving to Tasmania, Winspear has directed Dusseldorp in the plays The Bleeding Tree, The Maids and Women of Troy. What's her take on their relationship now? 'We still walk side by side, which I really love,' she says. 'And there's an intent to be the custodians of our daughters forever, and make sure we guide them as best we can. Our work together is sacred, so we try to make sure it's filled with honesty, mutual respect, care.' In 2013, when I visited the couple's home in Sydney's Edgecliff, Winspear was preparing the evening meal for Grace, then almost 6, and Maggie, 3. He said he was mindful of how acting and directing obligations can invert family life, so they resisted employing childcare. 'His love of his family is his north star,' says Dusseldorp now. 'It comes down to mutual respect in a long-term relationship, understanding that people have their own ways of doing things, and trying to learn from that.' Grace is now 18 and has left Tasmania to live in Sydney. A budding writer, she is studying English literature. 'She's written a TV series about the family, which I have not seen yet,' Dusseldorp laughs, 'and I have the right to vet, I've told her! Sometimes when we have a family situation, I see her jotting things down and I'm like, 'What is that?'.' Maggie, now 15, and like her sister was often on the set of her mother's shows. 'My kids feel very comfortable socially with adults because they've always been around them.' Dusseldorp is mindful that with privilege comes responsibility. She is producing a film with a domestic-violence theme that is yet to go into production. She is also on the board of the Sydney-based charity, the Dusseldorp Forum, formed in 1989 by her late paternal grandfather, Dick Dusseldorp, founder of construction giant Lend Lease. The forum aims to improve education, health and social outcomes for children and their families through community-led projects. After our interview, Dusseldorp is going to visit her sister Teya, who is the forum's executive director. Her younger twin brothers Tom and Joe are also on the board. Missing from this story of tight siblings is brother Yoris, lost to cancer in infancy when Dusseldorp was eight. 'When I lost my brother, I realised that life comes for everyone in very unexpected ways, and that the person opposite you may have had a particular experience that you need to listen to and care about.' I ask Dusseldorp if she has a book in her. She laughs. 'If I do, it's just for me,' she says. 'I think it might help to put some stuff in order so I can work out what makes me creative, that way I can avoid losing courage. And maybe that's why people do it.' She reflects now on the road ahead; she hopes for a third season of Bay of Fires, and that the roles she plays, as well as creates, continue to have meaning; she doesn't want to just work for the sake of it. 'As an older woman, courage starts to wobble,' she says. 'I want to keep my courage until the very end, and I'm finding that right now I'm having to remind myself of that. That's partly because you become slightly invisible [as an older woman], less relevant possibly, and post-menopause, you need to redefine yourself.' Loading She adds women are finding strength in banding together post-menopause to 'bash through' the suffering of being ignored in this next stage of life. I suggest that shows such as Bay of Fires have proved there is an audience for engaging stories focused on older women. 'I think so,' she agrees. 'The courage to turn up is now something for me, but I want to have something to say. You've got to have a reason to be there, otherwise, shush!' Bay of Fires season two premieres on June 15 on ABC TV and iView.
CBC
16-05-2025
- Entertainment
- CBC
'I wanted to make an October crisis film meets Alice in Wonderland'
The Quebec director of the animated film Death Does Not Exist, brings it to Cannes Death Does Not Exist director Félix Dufour-Laperrière is grappling with an existential crisis that many of us looking out in the world today will find relatable. The Quebec filmmaker says he holds onto the "very strong social democratic beliefs" that defined him when he was "young and very intense." But today he's a father of two, and, for the sake of self-preservation, can't be as outspoken about his ideals when looking out at a world that is becoming violently inhospitable to so many different communities. "I first and foremost, want to protect my kids," says Dufour-Laperrière, on a Zoom call with CBC Arts. "But I wish that they lived in a livable world that is open to all." This nagging contradiction, or "paradox" as Dufour-Laperrière refers to it, is at the heart of the Archipelago director's latest feature premiering in the Director's Fortnight section at the Cannes Film Festival on Thursday. The hand-drawn animation, in which colours painted on paper lend rich texture to the lush and often abstract digital landscapes, follows a young activist named Hélène confronts the same existential dilemmas haunting the filmmaker — albeit in a much more "intense and romantic way" as Dufour-Laperrière puts it. His film is about French-Canadian radicals willing to take violent action. Hélène is part of an armed collective who target an obscenely wealthy elderly couple at their fortified mansion. During a chaotic shootout with their target's security detail, Hélène backs out, leaving her comrades to die and instead embarks on a dreamy, soul-searching journey. She's haunted by her friends and her targets, alongside a little child and an older woman, all challenging her to consider the consequences of her actions and inactions, weighing the comfortable but meaningless life she could lead as the world crumbles around her or the way she will alienate everyone close to her in pursuit of a higher but costly ideal. "The film is about two impossibilities," says Dufour-Laperrière, "the impossibility of violence first and foremost but also the impossibility of the status quo. Once you put violence in the world you don't control the consequences. And yet how can you live when the status quo is not possible. It's a tragic tale about two impossibilities meeting." Death Does Not Exist doesn't address any specific political, social or global conflicts we're living through today, a narrative choice perhaps stemming from the very cautiousness the film is confronting. Though the question Dufour-Laperrière asks, through his characters, throughout the film can easily be posed to any of the most pertinent calamities today, especially since the abstract imagery is suggestive of so much: wealth inequality, food insecurity, the climate crisis and armed conflict are all there. The project actually began with a real historical reference point. "I wanted to make an October crisis film meets Alice in Wonderland in contemporary Quebec," says Dufour-Laperrière, referencing the violent 1970s conflict when militant separatists in Quebec kidnapped a British trade commissioner and murdered Quebec minister Pierre Laporte. Those incidents pushed then Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau to invoke the War Measures Act, allowing for a military occupation and mass arrests. The October Crisis was the subject in Gilles Groulx's critical and confrontational documentary 24 heures ou plus. Dufour-Laperrière counts that film as an aesthetic and thematic influence, alongside Groulx's political coming-of-age drama The Cat in the Bag. He even cast Barbara Ulrich, who starred as seductive and restless young Montrealer in The Cat in the Bag, as the elderly wealthy woman confronting the young radical Hélène in Death Does Not Exist, achieving a circularity that's both eerie and poignant. For Dufour-Laperrière, invoking Canada's past is a way of reminding that radical violent action isn't a foreign concept. "Violence is happening everywhere in a lot of countries," he says, "and we're surprised in the Western world when it emerges." "I wanted to reflect on these issues, this radicality, but in modern days with a different crisis — social but ecological too — and mix it with a fantastic side that in my eyes illustrates the interior life of the characters." Image | DEATH DOES NOT EXIST Publicity Materials/9_LMNP_Enfant_fleurs.png Caption: A still from Death Does Not Exist (Félix Dufour-Laperrière) Open Image in New Tab At this point, I ask Dufour-Laperrière to consider the whole Cannes apparatus and its contradictions. The festival is hosting films that are touching on some of the most urgent crises of our time. They opened with "Ukraine Day," premiering three titles (Zelensky, Notre Guerre and 2000 Meters to Andriivka) about the war that has been raging for three years. They're also premiering Once Upon a Time in Gaza, a dark comedy about two brothers selling drugs out of a falafel shop in 2007; Yes, Israeli director Nadav Lapid's critical satire about a musician trying to compose a new national anthem after October 7; and Put Your Soul on Your Hand and Walk, a documentary about the lives lost to Israeli offensives in Gaza. The last one arrives in Cannes mired by a tragedy not originally contained in the film. Its main subject, 25-year-old photojournalist Fatima Hassouna, was killed along with 10 members of her family in an Israeli airstrike, just days after announcing her film will premiere at Cannes. While the festivals host these films, it also warns attendees attending to not make any political statements or wear such symbols on the red carpets and events. The stark opposition between Cannes trying to reflect and engage with the world at large in its programming while maintaining a comfortable, cozy and risk-averse decorum is at the heart of what Death Does Not Exist is about. "It's paradoxical being in a peaceful country," says Dufour-Laperrière. "I don't bear direct involvement in it. But there are some people that are directly touched — them and their families — with what's going on in the world. And I guess they should be necessarily allowed to express their concerns. And these concerns are often, as you say, quite tragic. "It's an impossible balance to find between the two. You can be moderate. But if the world isn't moderate, what are we going to do? Reality is unbearable for a lot of people."
