The real housewives of Australia: How ‘Red' Bond led the way
Long before today's mawkish Real Housewives shows, Australia claimed a unique species of social fauna: the Socialitis Animalis Australis, a generation of larger-than-life, socially connected, cashed-up and indomitable women. Primrose 'Pitty Pat' Dunlop, Lady Mary Fairfax, Pixie Skase, Lillian Frank, Diana 'Bubbles' Fisher, Rose Hancock, Lady Sonia McMahon and Susan Renouf became celebrities as they epitomised an era of unmatched excess.
Some of them married wealth and power; others worked, accruing their own. They were the apex predators of the society pages at a time when Australia produced audacious billionaires, such as Alan Bond. He and Eileen built their own university, hotels and even launched a fleet of airships. Despite a deluge of noise complaints, 'Red' was all smiles in 1987 as she launched her blimps over Sydney; powered by two roaring Porsche engines, they were bedecked in advertising for her Swan Premium beer and ciggies.
Privately, she endured the loss of her daughter, Susanne, of coeliac disease in 2000, but carried on despite the ignominy of her husband's billion-dollar bankruptcy, fraud conviction, infidelity (she famously cut up his expensive suits in revenge) and their ultimate divorce.
A devout Catholic and devoted matriarch and philanthropist, she hosted lavish dinner parties as enthusiastically as she once did her infamous sausage sizzles right up to her death.
'[These women] handled things with grace,' says Ann Peacock, daughter of the late Andrew Peacock and his first wife, socialite Susan; a political power couple, the Peacocks were once known as Australia's Kennedys. 'Some scandals were ridiculously overblown … In 1970, Dad offered his resignation [as army minister] after Mum's Sheridan sheets ad furore!' (She had appeared in print ads for the brand.)
A photo of Flemington's 'Holy Trinity', taken at the Melbourne Cup in 2003, perhaps sums them up best. Red looks like a dazzling toadstool in an enormous hat and sunglasses. At left is Lady Sonia McMahon, who died in 2010. In 1971, she caused a sensation at the White House, which she was visiting with her husband, the then-PM, Billy McMahon, by wearing a cream dress by Victoria Cascajo slit to her thighs. Peacock's mother, Susan Renouf, is on the right. She died in 2016 after living a life of headlines, including the tumultuous end, in 1988, of her marriage to billionaire Sir Frank Renouf. She refused – in front of a salivating media pack – to leave their ironically named Point Piper mansion, Paradis Sur Mer.
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News.com.au
36 minutes ago
- News.com.au
Brad Pitt's $2 million ‘green flex'
Brad Pitt isn't just portraying a Formula 1 driver in films — he's also a true car enthusiast in real life. The Hollywood star's collection features a roaring V12 Lamborghini, sleek electric Porsches, luxurious 4x4s and one of the world's rarest cars. His car collection itself is estimated to be worth approximately $6.3 million. Here's a look inside his extraordinary car collection. Lamborghini Aventador One of the most impressive vehicles in his collection is the Lamborghini Aventador, a V12-powered machine capable of accelerating from 0 to 100 km/h in approximately three seconds. It's unclear which specific version he owns, but with any Aventador, the screaming V-12 engine can accelerate from 0 to 100 km/h in around 3 seconds. Aston Martin Vanquish Carbon Edition Another head-turner in his collection is the Aston Martin Vanquish Carbon Edition, a 2015 model gifted to him by his ex-wife Angelina Jolie. Audi R8 Spyder There's also an Audi R8 Spyder, and it's pretty easy to see why Brad Pitt owns it. Packing over 600 horsepower and capable of speeds beyond 320 km/h, it's a fitting match for someone chasing the F1 thrill even off-set. Bentley Continental GT For a touch of British luxury, Pitt has a Bentley Continental GT. While he's rarely seen in it, the car is believed to be reserved for special events and award nights. Porsche Taycan Brad Pitt has been seen cruising around Hollywood in his 2023 Porsche Taycan. Depending on the model, the Taycan can have a dual-motor all-wheel drive that's capable of producing up to 751hp and can accelerate from 0 to 100 in 2.4 seconds. While it's unclear which Taycan Pitt owns, photos of him driving it around Los Angeles suggest it could be his new daily vehicle. Two Tesla Model S There's some bad history with one of his two Tesla Model S. In 2018, one of his two Teslas was involved in a three-car crash in Los Angeles. The Tesla Model S produces 670HP and has a top speed of around 320 km/h. It can also accelerate from 0 to 100 in just over three seconds. Mercedes-Benz G55 AMG Pitt is often seen driving his 2008 Mercedes G-Wagon. It's a black Mercedes-Benz G 55 AMG SUV that's fitted with a 5.5-litre supercharged V8 engine that can do 0-100 km/h in 5.5 seconds. Audi Q7 Brad Pitt has chosen the Audi Q7 as his go-to vehicle for picking up his kids and everyday tasks. It's a popular choice among many celebrities and can do 0-100 in 7.7 seconds with its 280hp engine. BMW Hydrogen 7 This could be Pitt's rarest car in his collection. The BMW Hydrogen 7 has a unique engine, allowing drivers to switch between hydrogen gas and petrol. These were built between 2005 and 2007 as part of BMW's exploration of hydrogen-powered vehicles, and only 100 were ever produced. The car has been described as a 'green flex' given it's astronomical price tag. It's said to be worth around $2m. He was last seen driving this car while attending the premiere of Ocean's 13. 'HIGHEST OF HIGHS' A month on from the release of his F1 film, Brad Pitt has opened up about his behind-the-scenes racing experience, sharing which legendary Formula One circuit left him 'breathless'. While reviews of the movie have been mixed, it's clear that Pitt received a front-row seat to one of the world's most prestigious motorsport events. While filming the F1 movie, he drove on various race tracks that comprise the Formula 1 calendar. And now Brad Pitt has opened up and shared his experience on which Formula 1 track left him feeling the 'highest of highs'. During a recent podcast interview with Tom Clarkson on Beyond The Grid, Pitt opened up about his new-found appreciation for the world's most iconic circuits like Silverstone and Abu Dhabi. However, there was one track that made him feel completely different from the rest. And that crown belongs to Belgium's Spa-Francorchamps, commonly referred to as Spa. 'But the high of highs? Spa. Oh my god! 4.3 miles, 100-metre elevation … It's such a smooth, graceful feeling,' Brad Pitt said. 'And then of course, Eau Rouge, we went to the bottom of Eau Rouge, turned behind, looked up the hill and waited. 'Fernando Alonso went by, and it literally sucks the air out of your lungs. It is unbelievable. It is unbelievable. 'That was that same weekend we were driving, I'd been out, but I wasn't doing what Fernando was doing!'
The Advertiser
6 hours ago
- The Advertiser
This Irish romantic drama takes its sweet time, to be sure
Truman Capote wrote, "More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones." In this film, God seems to be playing with that idea, toying with people's hopes and dreams and lives, giving them inspiration that leads to suffering, and granting at least some wishes but with a twist or a capricious sense of timing. Or maybe it's all down to some other kind of supernatural goings-on, or to fate. Or, if you're not into such metaphysical speculations, maybe things like coincidence just happen. This Irish romantic drama takes its sweet time to unfold and then crams a lot towards the end in a rush that hinders, rather than enhances, its impact. We have to wait a long time before the young lovers even meet, and even longer to discover what the title means. Niall Williams adapted his own novel: it's his first movie script, and the task might have been better entrusted to a screenwriter with more experience and objectivity. Four Letters of Love is also full of cliches from the Emerald Isle and from movies set there. Dancing merry jigs to jolly songs? Tick. A stern Mother Superior at a drab Catholic girls' boarding school? Tick. Impractical husbands and longsuffering wives? A score featuring wordless, ethereal female vocals? To be sure, to be sure. There are no banshees, but there do appear to be ghosts. There's also some spectacular scenery, gorgeously shot by Damien Elliott. The story begins in the 1970s. One day at the office, civil servant William Coughlin (Pierce Brosnan) has an epiphany and chucks in his job to become a painter. He abruptly leaves his wife Bette (Imelda May) and son Nicholas (Fionn O'Shea) to head west, leaving them bewildered and poor: Bette never recovers from the shock, and William comes and goes as he pleases. Meanwhile, on the island where William goes to paint, Isabel (Ann Skelly) is helping to care for her brother Sean (Donal Finn), who's wheelchair-bound and mute after a stroke. Isabel's parents - schoolteacher Muiris (Gabriel Byrne) and mother Margaret (Helena Bonham Carter) - send her off to a boarding school but she runs away and takes up with Peadar (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo), a musician with a car. He's an underdeveloped character, essentially a plot contrivance to complicate things between Nicholas and Isabel, but he's not a cardboard cad. Williams and experienced director Polly Steele (Let Me Go) do a fair job of juggling the moves between time and place but sometimes important elements - like a painting by William that plays a crucial role - aren't dealt with as clearly or skilfully as they should be. As mentioned, it takes a long time for Nicholas and Isabel to meet, after a near miss or two, and their falling in love feels rather too rushed and underplayed. Not that the full gushing Hollywood treatment was needed but the handling seems clumsy. The way Nicholas is kept around for story purposes isn't entirely convincing either. There's an air of muted fatalism about things: people don't seem to get too passionate or upset. The film benefits from a fine cast. O'Shea was very likeable in the heartwarming boarding-school drama Handsome Devil (in which he starred with Nicholas Galitzine) and, playing a fairly subdued character here, is a sympathetic hero throughout. Skelly is also very good: you hope things will end well for them. Brosnan seems slightly odd casting as a scruffy bohemian but he and the other veterans are good to have around. Romantic dramas can end happily or tragically, hopefully or bittersweetly: without spoiling the film, the ending doesn't seem entirely clear, which is a little frustrating. But the painting, when finally viewed, does have some impact. It, like the film, could have had more. Truman Capote wrote, "More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones." In this film, God seems to be playing with that idea, toying with people's hopes and dreams and lives, giving them inspiration that leads to suffering, and granting at least some wishes but with a twist or a capricious sense of timing. Or maybe it's all down to some other kind of supernatural goings-on, or to fate. Or, if you're not into such metaphysical speculations, maybe things like coincidence just happen. This Irish romantic drama takes its sweet time to unfold and then crams a lot towards the end in a rush that hinders, rather than enhances, its impact. We have to wait a long time before the young lovers even meet, and even longer to discover what the title means. Niall Williams adapted his own novel: it's his first movie script, and the task might have been better entrusted to a screenwriter with more experience and objectivity. Four Letters of Love is also full of cliches from the Emerald Isle and from movies set there. Dancing merry jigs to jolly songs? Tick. A stern Mother Superior at a drab Catholic girls' boarding school? Tick. Impractical husbands and longsuffering wives? A score featuring wordless, ethereal female vocals? To be sure, to be sure. There are no banshees, but there do appear to be ghosts. There's also some spectacular scenery, gorgeously shot by Damien Elliott. The story begins in the 1970s. One day at the office, civil servant William Coughlin (Pierce Brosnan) has an epiphany and chucks in his job to become a painter. He abruptly leaves his wife Bette (Imelda May) and son Nicholas (Fionn O'Shea) to head west, leaving them bewildered and poor: Bette never recovers from the shock, and William comes and goes as he pleases. Meanwhile, on the island where William goes to paint, Isabel (Ann Skelly) is helping to care for her brother Sean (Donal Finn), who's wheelchair-bound and mute after a stroke. Isabel's parents - schoolteacher Muiris (Gabriel Byrne) and mother Margaret (Helena Bonham Carter) - send her off to a boarding school but she runs away and takes up with Peadar (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo), a musician with a car. He's an underdeveloped character, essentially a plot contrivance to complicate things between Nicholas and Isabel, but he's not a cardboard cad. Williams and experienced director Polly Steele (Let Me Go) do a fair job of juggling the moves between time and place but sometimes important elements - like a painting by William that plays a crucial role - aren't dealt with as clearly or skilfully as they should be. As mentioned, it takes a long time for Nicholas and Isabel to meet, after a near miss or two, and their falling in love feels rather too rushed and underplayed. Not that the full gushing Hollywood treatment was needed but the handling seems clumsy. The way Nicholas is kept around for story purposes isn't entirely convincing either. There's an air of muted fatalism about things: people don't seem to get too passionate or upset. The film benefits from a fine cast. O'Shea was very likeable in the heartwarming boarding-school drama Handsome Devil (in which he starred with Nicholas Galitzine) and, playing a fairly subdued character here, is a sympathetic hero throughout. Skelly is also very good: you hope things will end well for them. Brosnan seems slightly odd casting as a scruffy bohemian but he and the other veterans are good to have around. Romantic dramas can end happily or tragically, hopefully or bittersweetly: without spoiling the film, the ending doesn't seem entirely clear, which is a little frustrating. But the painting, when finally viewed, does have some impact. It, like the film, could have had more. Truman Capote wrote, "More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones." In this film, God seems to be playing with that idea, toying with people's hopes and dreams and lives, giving them inspiration that leads to suffering, and granting at least some wishes but with a twist or a capricious sense of timing. Or maybe it's all down to some other kind of supernatural goings-on, or to fate. Or, if you're not into such metaphysical speculations, maybe things like coincidence just happen. This Irish romantic drama takes its sweet time to unfold and then crams a lot towards the end in a rush that hinders, rather than enhances, its impact. We have to wait a long time before the young lovers even meet, and even longer to discover what the title means. Niall Williams adapted his own novel: it's his first movie script, and the task might have been better entrusted to a screenwriter with more experience and objectivity. Four Letters of Love is also full of cliches from the Emerald Isle and from movies set there. Dancing merry jigs to jolly songs? Tick. A stern Mother Superior at a drab Catholic girls' boarding school? Tick. Impractical husbands and longsuffering wives? A score featuring wordless, ethereal female vocals? To be sure, to be sure. There are no banshees, but there do appear to be ghosts. There's also some spectacular scenery, gorgeously shot by Damien Elliott. The story begins in the 1970s. One day at the office, civil servant William Coughlin (Pierce Brosnan) has an epiphany and chucks in his job to become a painter. He abruptly leaves his wife Bette (Imelda May) and son Nicholas (Fionn O'Shea) to head west, leaving them bewildered and poor: Bette never recovers from the shock, and William comes and goes as he pleases. Meanwhile, on the island where William goes to paint, Isabel (Ann Skelly) is helping to care for her brother Sean (Donal Finn), who's wheelchair-bound and mute after a stroke. Isabel's parents - schoolteacher Muiris (Gabriel Byrne) and mother Margaret (Helena Bonham Carter) - send her off to a boarding school but she runs away and takes up with Peadar (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo), a musician with a car. He's an underdeveloped character, essentially a plot contrivance to complicate things between Nicholas and Isabel, but he's not a cardboard cad. Williams and experienced director Polly Steele (Let Me Go) do a fair job of juggling the moves between time and place but sometimes important elements - like a painting by William that plays a crucial role - aren't dealt with as clearly or skilfully as they should be. As mentioned, it takes a long time for Nicholas and Isabel to meet, after a near miss or two, and their falling in love feels rather too rushed and underplayed. Not that the full gushing Hollywood treatment was needed but the handling seems clumsy. The way Nicholas is kept around for story purposes isn't entirely convincing either. There's an air of muted fatalism about things: people don't seem to get too passionate or upset. The film benefits from a fine cast. O'Shea was very likeable in the heartwarming boarding-school drama Handsome Devil (in which he starred with Nicholas Galitzine) and, playing a fairly subdued character here, is a sympathetic hero throughout. Skelly is also very good: you hope things will end well for them. Brosnan seems slightly odd casting as a scruffy bohemian but he and the other veterans are good to have around. Romantic dramas can end happily or tragically, hopefully or bittersweetly: without spoiling the film, the ending doesn't seem entirely clear, which is a little frustrating. But the painting, when finally viewed, does have some impact. It, like the film, could have had more. Truman Capote wrote, "More tears are shed over answered prayers than unanswered ones." In this film, God seems to be playing with that idea, toying with people's hopes and dreams and lives, giving them inspiration that leads to suffering, and granting at least some wishes but with a twist or a capricious sense of timing. Or maybe it's all down to some other kind of supernatural goings-on, or to fate. Or, if you're not into such metaphysical speculations, maybe things like coincidence just happen. This Irish romantic drama takes its sweet time to unfold and then crams a lot towards the end in a rush that hinders, rather than enhances, its impact. We have to wait a long time before the young lovers even meet, and even longer to discover what the title means. Niall Williams adapted his own novel: it's his first movie script, and the task might have been better entrusted to a screenwriter with more experience and objectivity. Four Letters of Love is also full of cliches from the Emerald Isle and from movies set there. Dancing merry jigs to jolly songs? Tick. A stern Mother Superior at a drab Catholic girls' boarding school? Tick. Impractical husbands and longsuffering wives? A score featuring wordless, ethereal female vocals? To be sure, to be sure. There are no banshees, but there do appear to be ghosts. There's also some spectacular scenery, gorgeously shot by Damien Elliott. The story begins in the 1970s. One day at the office, civil servant William Coughlin (Pierce Brosnan) has an epiphany and chucks in his job to become a painter. He abruptly leaves his wife Bette (Imelda May) and son Nicholas (Fionn O'Shea) to head west, leaving them bewildered and poor: Bette never recovers from the shock, and William comes and goes as he pleases. Meanwhile, on the island where William goes to paint, Isabel (Ann Skelly) is helping to care for her brother Sean (Donal Finn), who's wheelchair-bound and mute after a stroke. Isabel's parents - schoolteacher Muiris (Gabriel Byrne) and mother Margaret (Helena Bonham Carter) - send her off to a boarding school but she runs away and takes up with Peadar (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo), a musician with a car. He's an underdeveloped character, essentially a plot contrivance to complicate things between Nicholas and Isabel, but he's not a cardboard cad. Williams and experienced director Polly Steele (Let Me Go) do a fair job of juggling the moves between time and place but sometimes important elements - like a painting by William that plays a crucial role - aren't dealt with as clearly or skilfully as they should be. As mentioned, it takes a long time for Nicholas and Isabel to meet, after a near miss or two, and their falling in love feels rather too rushed and underplayed. Not that the full gushing Hollywood treatment was needed but the handling seems clumsy. The way Nicholas is kept around for story purposes isn't entirely convincing either. There's an air of muted fatalism about things: people don't seem to get too passionate or upset. The film benefits from a fine cast. O'Shea was very likeable in the heartwarming boarding-school drama Handsome Devil (in which he starred with Nicholas Galitzine) and, playing a fairly subdued character here, is a sympathetic hero throughout. Skelly is also very good: you hope things will end well for them. Brosnan seems slightly odd casting as a scruffy bohemian but he and the other veterans are good to have around. Romantic dramas can end happily or tragically, hopefully or bittersweetly: without spoiling the film, the ending doesn't seem entirely clear, which is a little frustrating. But the painting, when finally viewed, does have some impact. It, like the film, could have had more.
The Age
a day ago
- The Age
The real housewives of Australia: How ‘Red' Bond led the way
On July 2, the news rippled eastwards across the Nullarbor. An extraordinary chapter in social history had ended. Eileen 'Red' Bond, the first wife of Alan Bond, had died in Perth from a stroke at the age of 87. Long before today's mawkish Real Housewives shows, Australia claimed a unique species of social fauna: the Socialitis Animalis Australis, a generation of larger-than-life, socially connected, cashed-up and indomitable women. Primrose 'Pitty Pat' Dunlop, Lady Mary Fairfax, Pixie Skase, Lillian Frank, Diana 'Bubbles' Fisher, Rose Hancock, Lady Sonia McMahon and Susan Renouf became celebrities as they epitomised an era of unmatched excess. Some of them married wealth and power; others worked, accruing their own. They were the apex predators of the society pages at a time when Australia produced audacious billionaires, such as Alan Bond. He and Eileen built their own university, hotels and even launched a fleet of airships. Despite a deluge of noise complaints, 'Red' was all smiles in 1987 as she launched her blimps over Sydney; powered by two roaring Porsche engines, they were bedecked in advertising for her Swan Premium beer and ciggies. Privately, she endured the loss of her daughter, Susanne, of coeliac disease in 2000, but carried on despite the ignominy of her husband's billion-dollar bankruptcy, fraud conviction, infidelity (she famously cut up his expensive suits in revenge) and their ultimate divorce. A devout Catholic and devoted matriarch and philanthropist, she hosted lavish dinner parties as enthusiastically as she once did her infamous sausage sizzles right up to her death. '[These women] handled things with grace,' says Ann Peacock, daughter of the late Andrew Peacock and his first wife, socialite Susan; a political power couple, the Peacocks were once known as Australia's Kennedys. 'Some scandals were ridiculously overblown … In 1970, Dad offered his resignation [as army minister] after Mum's Sheridan sheets ad furore!' (She had appeared in print ads for the brand.) A photo of Flemington's 'Holy Trinity', taken at the Melbourne Cup in 2003, perhaps sums them up best. Red looks like a dazzling toadstool in an enormous hat and sunglasses. At left is Lady Sonia McMahon, who died in 2010. In 1971, she caused a sensation at the White House, which she was visiting with her husband, the then-PM, Billy McMahon, by wearing a cream dress by Victoria Cascajo slit to her thighs. Peacock's mother, Susan Renouf, is on the right. She died in 2016 after living a life of headlines, including the tumultuous end, in 1988, of her marriage to billionaire Sir Frank Renouf. She refused – in front of a salivating media pack – to leave their ironically named Point Piper mansion, Paradis Sur Mer.
