SBS50: Stories of Nepalis in Toowoomba (Part 1)
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Sydney Morning Herald
9 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Billboard blues: Now who's a clever cockie?
The RSL and Willoughby Council are being a bit precious in objecting to an advertising billboard near a Garden of Remembrance (' RSL 'powerless' to stop huge billboard near war memorial ', June 22). I think most of us are smart enough to work out that the two represent different issues and don't interfere with each other. The RSL might be better to contemplate its treatment of Indigenous and National Service ex-servicemen after World War II and Vietnam and advertise an apology. Ian Adair, Hunters Hill On my commute route, the vandal cockatoos are streets ahead when it comes to protesting against large advertising billboards. Gangs of them chew away at footbridge eyesores with wire-crunching beaks until they've rendered them unreadable. Go the cockies! Meredith Williams, Baulkham Hills When homeowners aren't free to paint their houses in the colours they like while garish hoardings pepper the bridges, public transport hubs and roads, all designed to be noticed and read, viz: cause drivers to be distracted, it's a bit rum. Andrew Cohen, Glebe Pioneering SBS television In 1980, I had been Director of the Sydney Film Festival for 14 years when I was approached by Bruce Gyngell, the first CEO of SBS television, which was due to be launched later that year (' SBS turns big five-O ', June 22). Bruce asked me to program the feature films for the new network – quite a task as it was planned to screen one every day. I agreed on two conditions: one, that the films be presented in the correct aspect ratio – 'letter-boxed' for wide screen films – and two, that no film be censored. I was in Europe when the network started to operate – the first film screened was Elvira Madigan from Sweden. When I returned, Bruce expressed satisfaction with my selections but asked me if I would introduce the 'movie of the week' in the style of Bill Collins, who was very popular on commercial television at the time. I had never appeared on television before – the first film I 'hosted', in January 1981, was The Lacemaker, in which Isabelle Huppert appeared in a nude scene, setting the tone for the 'sexy' movies that long, Cinema Classics was introduced, where I introduced seasons of films by great directors, like Akira Kurosawa and Francois Truffaut. My 'hostings' were produced by Margaret Pomeranz, and, during this period, we devised The Movie Show, which first went to air in 1986. Eighteen years later, a new management – with apparently no commitment to feature films – caused us to jump ship to the ABC where we presented At the Movies for ten years. David Stratton, Leura The Spit Spat Before the 2007 NSW State Election the then transport minister, Eric Roozendaal, promised to widen The Spit Bridge (' Work to start on road choke point in city's north ', June 22). However, six weeks after being returned to power, Labor premier Morris Iemma announced that the proposal had been scrapped. The promise to fix a section of Mona Vale Road with construction to start in 2028 will be welcomed by residents and motorists. However, for those who travel south to the city, The Spit will remain a bridge too far. Allan Gibson, Cherrybrook Call out for mental health I applaud the Herald' s view agitating for the restitution of mental health services gutted by the mass resignation of NSW public hospital psychiatrists (' Months later, still no solution for state's mental health crisis ', June 22). A patient's 'psychological well-being' is a vital organ that requires resuscitation to a healthier hue when our mindscape turns 'beyond blue', requiring an urgent complete in-person mental health specialist response. As a 30-year hospital doctor, I have no qualms about hefty call-ins and after-hours on-duty rates for complete access to the specialists that unclog blocked cerebral and coronary arteries in strokes and massive heart attacks. My long tenure has regrettably yet to witness that rare event of a specialist psychiatrist being made to be present on-site or being called in after hours. If you want a 25 per cent pay rise like the critical care specialists, you need to be always willing and able. Joseph Ting, Carina (Qld)
News.com.au
10 hours ago
- News.com.au
‘Biggest mystery' in cinematic history still unanswered
It's been more than 20 years since Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson joined forces for Sofia Coppola's award-winning film Lost in Translation. And yet, in the two decades since the movie's release, the mystery surrounding the pivotal final scene has never been revealed. Today, it remains one of the most endearing movie mysteries of all time. What did Murray's character Bob Harris whisper to Johansson's Charlotte during their final encounter? Only the co-stars, and the filmmaker herself know the answer. In the blockbuster, widely regarded as one of the best travel movies of all time, Murray plays a faded film star who forms a fleeting, intimate bond while in Tokyo with Johansson's character, a disillusioned young Yale graduate and newlywed. The film was a bona fide hit, earning $US118.7 million on a $4 million budget. It received four Oscar nominations, including Best Picture and Best Actor for Murray. Coppola ultimately took home the award for Best Original Screenplay. And yet, that final whispered line seems to be what viewers still obsess over. Over the years, film critics and movie buffs have attempted to decode the parting thoughts of Murray's character at the end of the pair's whirlwind stay in the Japanese capital. But the answer has never been divulged. The most popular guess, which a YouTuber went viral for back in 2007, is: 'I have to be leaving, but I won't let that come between us, okay?' Other stabs in the dark from cinema detectives include: 'Promise me, that the next thing you do, is go up to that man and tell him the truth.' 'I just want you to know I will never forget this okay?' 'When John [Johansson's character's husband] is ready for his next business trip, go up to that man and tell him the truth, okay?' Others on Reddit have weighed in over the years, with one commenting, 'It's supposed to be ambiguous, a private moment just between the two characters.' Another wrote: 'How people hear anything but 'tell him the truth, okay' at the end of the phrase is bizarre.' Yet another couch critic said: 'You are supposed to decide what he whispers. I don't believe it is scripted.' There were plenty of jokes, too. 'You'll become Black Widow one day,' one person quipped. Director Sofia Coppola herself weighed in on the mystery on the film's 15th anniversary, simply stating: 'That thing Bill whispers to Scarlett was never intended to be anything. 'I was going to figure out later what to say and add it in and then we never did.' Meanwhile, the co-stars have continued to enjoy the prolonged secret over the years, without actually giving it away. The Cadyshak star, now 74, appeared on The Drew Barrymore Show back in March to promote his movie Riff Raff, however wound up reminiscing about the hit romantic comedy-drama from 2003. 'Well there was a girl, she was a teenager back then her name was Scarlett Johansson back then,' the comedian told Barrymore. 'She was only 17 when she made that movie, 17 years old and it was beautiful to make the movie with the two of them [Coppola and Johansson].' The host then hit up Murray about the unforgettable whisper scene. 'I love that you guys had the confidence to leave the film on the note of mystery,' she said. 'Well that was an inspired moment, that happened in the moment, it happened in the moment,' Murray said vaguely, before adding, 'there were three of us that had the same moment.' Despite whispering in Barrymore's ear for added flair, Murray concluded by saying: 'That was a moment of seeing, 'This is going to happen and it's going to be even better because we're never going to know'.' Right … Similarly, Johansson weighed in back in 2023 around the film's 20-year anniversary. 'Oh my god, that sounds pretty profound,' the Avengers star replied when hit up by Yahoo Entertainment about the exact transcript of the infamous moment. 'Probably way more profound than what was actually said!' Listening to the internet's answer a second time, she answered less confidently: 'Maybe? I don't know about that. I give it, like, a B-minus.' Of course, Johansson declined to reveal the exact sentence. And so, the mystery lives on.
News.com.au
11 hours ago
- News.com.au
Jōhatsu: Inside the mysterious phenomenon of Japan's vanishing people
Ever wanted to disappear? Maybe you're drowning in debt. Or your toxic job is grinding you into the ground. That loveless marriage. There are many reasons why people can feel the urge to vanish. For good. But in Japan, these people all go by the same special name. 'Johatsu'. The evaporated. They choose to abandon everything – their lives, jobs, homes and families – for a chance to start again. It's a real-life vanishing act. Disconnected from their past, these lost souls can spend decades in the shadows of society. Without ever looking back. Since the mid-1990s, Japan has recorded around 80,000 Johatsu each year. It's a dark mirror on the invisible pressure these people face to conform. But where do they go? What happens to who they leave behind? And what can it teach us about missing people in Australia? Shame of failure Johatsu: Into Thin Air is a recent documentary charting this mysterious phenomenon. It took Berlin-based film makers Andreas Hartmann and Arata Mori over six years to complete the sensitive project. To protect the privacy of the Johatsu, the movie was released under strict conditions: it will never be publicly screened in Japan. It's screening in Melbourne next month. Mori, who was born in Japan, told the idea of Johatsu is universal – despite its unique cultural roots. 'We've all thought about disappearing from our lives before,' said Mori. In Japan, this desire can be driven by infamously high social expectations. The shame of failing to meet them – through divorce, debt, job loss or failing an exam – can feel like a stain that will never be wiped clean. This includes a workplace culture where quitting is considered shameful. Despite demands to work hours so long they can be deadly. The pressure to conform to such norms is so powerful, evaporating feels like the only solution. Under cover of darkness Despite running away from everyone, the Johatsu don't go it alone. In fact, they turn to what's called a 'night mover'. It's the job of the night movers to spirit people to new, secret locations under cover of darkness. They're all about doing things discreetly. Night movers can make their job look like an abduction. Make homes look like they've been robbed. And make paper trails or financial transactions go away. It's a whole economy for those who want never to be found. And while the johatsu might be shrouded in mystery, the night movers are not hard to find. With easily accessed websites and offices, they operate in plain view. As for the people the Johatsu leave behind? There's a service for them, too. Just don't expect it from the boys in blue. Unless a crime occurred, police refuse to get involved. 'It can be very difficult to get assistance from the local police due to Japanese privacy laws,' says Hartmann. 'Many people seek assistance from private investigators to help find missing people. This is basically the opposite of a night mover.' 'Rather die' Japan has a rich cultural history of saving face. 'Japan has a long history of people killing themselves to preserve their honour,' says Mori. 'Even now, you still hear of it happening. These people would rather die than live in shame.' Disappearing is an attractive alternative. While it may put their families through the pain of uncertainty, at least it protects them from the crushing costs of suicide. In Japan, relatives become liable for a suicide's debt. They may also be hit with huge fees from the management of the building or train from where they meet their fate. 'While Johatsu can be seen as a form of suicide, they're in fact opposites,' says Mori. 'Johatsu is the act of choosing not to die but live.' Not the end of the story Indeed, the belief in a fresh start speaks to hope as much as despair. But it's not the end of the story. Into Thin Air paints a bleak picture of evaporated life. Some Johatsu live in tiny, squalid accommodation, and work dodgy, off-the-books jobs. Opening up this experience in itself can be cathartic. 'It was an opportunity for these people to finally share their story, which they have kept to themselves for a very long time,' says Hartmann. 'The filmmaking was a kind of therapy for them.' This therapy can be sorely needed. Because the feelings of sadness and regret haunt the Johatsu long after they leave their lives behind. 'Their second lives are of course not totally happy ones, but there is something positive about it,' says Mori. Ambiguous loss Some Johatsu long for what they lost, watching their families as if from behind a frosted glass door they can never open. It's no less painful than what their families endure themselves – a unique kind of grief known as 'ambiguous loss'. Without knowing where Johatsu go, they never get closure. And this dark cycle can repeat itself. 'We've also noticed that disappearances in families are repeated in cycles,' says Hartmann. 'Many relatives of the disappeared go on to disappear. Or the disappeared turn out to have a parent go missing growing up. One Johatsu in the film is under the hallucination she is being stalked. But for others, the threat– a stalker, gangster or knife-wielding ex – is very real. The documentary opens with a stense scene in which a man fleeing a possessive partner is bundled inside a night mover's van. 'These people are often fleeing debt, domestic violence, the mafia or family problems' Hartmann says. 'They simply want to start afresh in a new place where nobody knows them.' But often, Hartmann said the Johatsu were simply motivated by a consuming sense of alienation. 'Sometimes people just don't feel they belong.' Cautionary tale Japan is the perfect place to disappear. Unlike Australia, the country has no national database for missing people. It's also against the law for police to access ATM transactions or financial records without a warrant. 'The great value of privacy makes Japan an ideal place to lead an anonymous life,' says Hartmann. The idea of the Johatsu is not foreign to Western Cultures. In the US, Hartmann refers to a crisis management professional who helps celebrities disappear. He also says Japanese night movers are now helping people relocate overseas. With costs of living and working hours climbing in Australia, we're not immune to the danger of a disappearing trend. With costs of living and working hours climbing in Australia, we're not immune to the danger of a disappearing trend. That's where the most potent message of Into Thin Air – that it's never too late to reconcile – can bring hope. After almost four decades after disappearing, one Johatsu in the film is seen reconnecting with his family. 'This story showed us there's always hope for reconciliation,' says Hartmann. 'We would be very grateful if anyone watching this film got a new perspective on their problems,' Mori.
