Welcome to Ugly Country NOSTALGIA AND NATIONALISM IN STEPHAN ELLIOTT’S SWINGING SAFARI
You’ve probably been to a dinner party where – after a few too many chardonnays or lagers – the conversation degenerates into an avalanche of ‘remember when’s. Described by The Sopranos’ Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini) as the ‘lowest form of conversation’, these discussions balance on a knife edge of warm nostalgia and barely concealed bitterness. An anecdote about a family outing turned disastrous is one-half ripper yarn, one-half implicit criticism of your parents’ responsibility (or lack thereof).
Stephan Elliott’s Swinging Safari (2018) is that dinner party writ large as a raucous, often-crude comedy. It’s an ode to 1970s Australiana thickly slathered with signifiers of the era: platform shoes and fondue parties, Mr. Squiggle and Number 96, lava lamps and lamingtons. In many respects, the film is a loving portrait of its era; Elliott, who came of age during that decade, exhibits an obvious affection for its fashions and foibles. But, much like a drunken dinner-party tale, there’s a bitter aftertaste that’s impossible to ignore.
‘What the hell happened in the seventies?’
Even before you set foot in the theatre, it seems as though Swinging Safari is trying to Say Something About Australia – about how this country came to be the way it is.
That aura of importance is bestowed by the
