Original subtitles

In this hot, dry country of Australia, the land belongs to the sun -baked

the lizard, the eternal flat landscape.

The Australian Aborigines survived for thousands of years in a land hostile to

men.

They survived because they knew the way of the water, the tracks of the animals,

the secret hiding places of the insects.

Now they live on the fringes, exiles in their own country.

The white man came. In less than two centuries, the hard -drinking

of convicts had transformed an empty continent into a country with the fourth

highest standard of living in the world.

In our journey around this continent, we will explore the weird, the pathetic,

the unknown, the erotic, the ugly, the obscene, and the beautiful.

It won't all be beautiful, but it is all true.

We do not see the dark side of the moon and we do not often see the dark side of

life in the lucky country.

This film takes you to see that dark side.

A strange and sometimes disturbing trip around darkest Australia.

A high standard of living and a high standard of dying.

The bridge.

A vast coat hanger arched over the waters of Sydney Harbour.

It draws the eyes like a magnet.

And it draws the hopeless, the despairing, the suicides who take their

journey off the bridge.

There are over two and a half million people living in Sydney.

Every year, one of them takes the long drop.

King's Cross turns its back on the waters of Sydney Harbour.

Sleazy, grubby, neon -lit, crowded after dark with the curious, the wanderers,

the pleasure -seekers.

Ladies of the night, their customers, pimps, brothel keepers.

Strippers taking off their clothes in one club, putting them on again to go to

the next club, and then stripping again.

It takes a lot out of a girl's wardrobe.

But the cross looks tired, not so way out anymore.

To find where the real action is now, we must look behind the bright lights,

behind the blue and red spotlights of the strip club for something darker,

older, more primitive.

We are in the salon of Madame Lash, a lady disciple of the late

Marquis de Sade, who gave his name to sadism, and a disciple of Leopold von

Sacher -Masoch, who gave his name to masochism, the pleasure of receiving

Nostalgia, tradition, going back to the old days when men were men.

This one will do.

Take him up to the chamber and prepare him. I'll be up in ten minutes.

Oh,

look at that rack.

You don't see craftsmanship like that these days.

Old torture chambers in a country that did not exist when the machines were

invented.

It stretches the mind, as well as the body.

Pleasure is pain, pain is pleasure.

Some really enjoy a night out with the torturers.

They haven't had such a ball since their schoolmaster gave them six of the best

for reading dirty books, and they wondered why he looked so pleased with

himself.

Why not add some of these traditional accessories to your next social

and then maybe you too can be the life of the party.

Flash!

Flash, he's ready!

Very good, Captain.

Let him down.

Fed up with the same old meals? Tired of steak and oysters?

For the gourmet who has tried it all, there's an ethnic restaurant on a Murray

River boat at Swan Hill.

For the tired palate, try witchetty grub.

Plump and white, it grows to maturity under the bark of a tree.

If you happen to catch a snake, Captain Beatty will pay you for it at the rate

of a dollar a foot.

The trick is getting the skin off.

It's quite easy when you've got the neck. The gleaming skin comes away like

black net stockings off a stripper's thigh.

Like the missionary in a cannibal stew, they wriggle a little, but not for long.

In ten seconds, they are dead, and they make no noise about it.

In a few more seconds, they're ready to serve.

But for the do -it -yourself cooks, here's a recipe.

After dicing the skinned snake into two -inch lengths, coat with flour and place

in a hot pan.

When it's brown, add chopped carrots, potatoes, celery, onions, yabby tails,

a clove of garlic.

Simmer for 15 minutes, then add one gill of cream and two gills of Riesling.

Reduce the sauce until thick, and it's ready to serve with a wedge of lemon.

Well, Australians have always liked their grub well cooked.

Mmm.

Appetizing.

Snakes and witchetty grubs are all very well on holidays, but when you're back

in Sydney, you want the old familiar food.

The eternal gravy, sod and pea, decorated, shirt staining, never to be

life -saving Australian pie and sauce.

conveniently situated for the man about town at the Calcutta end of

Woolloomooloo, Harry's Cafe de Wheels.

Australian painters are famous the world over.

Nolan, Boyd, Percival, French, all command enormous prices at art auctions.

For the Australian art connoisseur, nothing is so creative, so relaxing as

getting out the brushes and paints at the end of a hard day.

For the businessman, it brings the pleasure of great art into the rough

commerce.

The brushwork is gentle, stimulating.

And of all the subjects for painting, nothing is so satisfying and so

traditional. as painting the live model.

Here in Sydney at Tomboy Studios for a small fee, you can get yourself an

attractive model and enough paint to indulge in your own private artistic

fantasy.

The subtle play of muscles under the skin, the soft swelling curves of flesh,

all take on a new and vibrant life.

Even the model enjoys it.

Perhaps she dreams that one day she will hang on the National Gallery.

Now, that's what I call a living work of art.

Arnhem Land.

400 miles inland.

The oldest art gallery in the continent.

Where else but in Australia are there art galleries where the paintings are 30

,000 years old?

Once this whole area was an inland sea.

The sea receded, leaving behind seashells and marine fossils.

The rocks are a natural palette, with holes for mixing the paints made from

ochres of the desert earth.

Inside the caves, the pictures show the history of the aboriginal people, what

they saw and ate and hunted.

Here is an ocean fish frozen by the hand of a black artist who lived long before

the pyramids were built, and a giant kangaroo, the totem of the tribe.

Somebody put his outstretched hand against the surface of the rock wall,

his mouth with ochre and water, sprayed the hand, and left an eternal handprint.

And here's a picture of a great hunt, celebrating the killing and eating, the

survival skills which kept them alive millennia ago.

Life is movement, from the aboriginal corroboree to the dance of the hours.

Wes Pemberthy, a classical artist, turns his painting studio into a dance floor.

The dancers are covered with paint, and the paint releases their inhibitions.

Their nakedness stirs memories deep in their consciousness, memories of folk

dances, of tribal dances when painted bodies made free offerings of themselves

to the spirits of the dance.

As their bodies turn, they flatten themselves lovingly against the wall or

the floor.

Their movement is transferred into a painted mural.

The mural is a live representation of the dance, its movements trapped in

and lines.

Remember kindergarten finger paintings?

Dabbling your hands into the oozing paint?

Well, this is grown -up finger painting.

Painting with a whole body.

Kindergarten was never like this.

Wes works hard, poking his brush at the surface.

But for the girls, it's all joy and fun and movement.

Afterwards, home to the suburbs.

In the 1880s, there was a boom.

A boom in the hanging industry.

These gallows, now still and silent in the old Melbourne jail, were the most

important piece of machinery in Melbourne town.

The man in charge of them was no ordinary public servant. He never kept

customers waiting. His rope was always in perfect order, never lost in the

filing system.

Even the hangman died.

This is the death mask of hangman Henry Jones.

But he didn't put the rope around his own neck.

A quick, deep stroke with an open razor slit his throat.

No long drop for him. He committed suicide rather than hang Mrs. Frances

a nice motherly soul who, for a trifling fee of five pounds, would adopt

unwanted children.

She then showed the kids just how unwanted they were by murdering them and

pocketing the fee.

This macabre gallery of murderers make the waxworks look like children's toys.

The moment the prisoner had been hanged by the neck and the doctor had certified

that the operation had been successful, the plaster of Paris impression was made

of a face.

The Italian surgeon Cesare Lombrosa developed the theory that you could

the faces of criminals and decide what sort of facial characteristics indicated

criminal tendencies.

Charles John Hall.

He drowned his pregnant wife in the bath and then claimed she had committed

suicide.

They didn't believe him.

Emma Williams, born 1868, executed October 1895.

She killed her child by throwing the infant into what was then known as the

Albert Park Lagoon.

Now, there's a serene face.

An archbishop?

A saint?

A learned professor?

No, but a national hero just the same.

The greatest of the bushrangers, Ned Kelly.

Those warm and generous lips had scarcely finished delivering his famous

words. As the rope was put around his neck, he shrugged and said, Such is

Such is life indeed.

Martha Needle.

Lucretia Borgia and arsenic and old lace in person.

She got through a husband and three children. And when her second husband

so surprisingly, they exhumed his body. and found traces of arsenic.

There are no prizes for guessing what the authorities found when they dug her

first husband up.

Now, here's an interesting face.

Businessman, cabinet minister, Frederick Bailey Deeming, English migrant.

The neighbors complained about a smell coming from under his house.

Rats or drains.

The rotting corpse of his murdered wife.

He was suspected of being the original Jack the Ripper.

leaving the old country to make a fresh start in the murder business in sunny

Australia.

In drought -stricken Australia, everyone has water on the brain, particularly in

the Northern Territory, though they don't drink much water.

In Alice Springs, they think it is unfair that they can't have a regatta

the Henley Regatta.

and all because of the trifling problem of having no water in the local river.

So, at Henley -on -Todd, they do have a regatta, a dehydrated regatta.

Instant boat races, and you don't even have to add water.

The boats have no bottoms.

Why didn't we all think of that?

It makes them unsinkable.

The river is a dried -up creek bed.

Though some of the spectators maintain there's enough beer drunk at the regatta

to float a battleship, Well, who's going to waste beer to float things on?

It's not quite the Oxford and Cambridge boat race.

The result is much less predictable, depending on how much amber fluid the

rowers have got inside them.

A beauty contest for the queen of the regatta.

Didn't know there were that many queens in the Northern Territory.

Did I say float a battleship?

They do just that. A sea battle with flower bombs and beer can artillery.

There's even a Viking ship.

You never know where those Vikings will turn up next.

At

any

Australian festival, even a waterless regatta, there will be gambling.

Australians will bet on anything that moves.

Horses, dogs, goats, kangaroos, political elections, flies on the

cockroaches on the floor.

Come in, spinner.

The center is set. The guts is set. But the side hasn't been set. There's a man

over here with $50.

But the thing they most like to bet on is the national game of two up.

Simple rules, high stakes.

The coins fly in the air spinning and come down onto the blanket.

$1 ,000 changes hands in as many seconds.

I like these $50 bets. They're beautiful.

I'll take that any time.

Hello, we've got a cover already.

200 in the gut. Now you sit on the side.

Sit on the side. Sit on the side.

One's correct.

Bloody tiles are gone.

100. 100.

150.

200. 200.

220.

270, 280, 290.

It's a big country.

You can be a member of the jet set without ever leaving Australia.

When the wind blows cold in the south, the jet setters fly up to the warm north

like migrating birds.

It's the birds they're looking at, too, here on the Gold Coast, the 20 miles of

beaches which are Australia's playground, the home of a bikini.

It was on the beaches of Surfer's Paradise that the bikini first found

acceptance.

Yes, very acceptable.

Here in this shop is Mr. Barry Goodwill, the man with the job everyone else in

Australia wants.

Who wants to be Prime Minister when you can make a good living designing and

custom -fitting bikinis.

When you're making something so small, it has got to be good.

You need the skill of a watchmaker and the eyes of a birdwatcher.

Every bikini is different.

Sometimes they roll along, sometimes they're firm and tight, sometimes

fighting a losing battle to stay on.

But at surfers, who cares if they lose the battle?

This customer knows what she wants.

It's his business to see if she gets it.

Observe the practiced hand of the craftsman like skill of his fingers, his

dedication to his work.

In a world where craftsmanship is dying, it's good to see a man putting all he's

got into his job.

It's a competitive country.

Every beat tries to do a little better and show a little more enterprise.

A thousand miles north of the Gold Coast, Daydream Island on the Barrier

The right name.

You've never seen such eye -popping daydreams as this, or nightdreams

For formal wear, the girls put on bikinis.

For swimming, they're just lazing in the sun. It doesn't do to be overdressed.

Nude bathing is perfectly legal on these beaches.

So, Daydream Island looks like the Garden of Eden with a hundred eaves and

happy atoms.

And there aren't any snakes to ruin this garden.

The girls come up to get a tan on those white patches their bikinis made at

Surfers. Hard work, girls.

All over tan needs discipline and oil and sun and salt water and more oil and

more sun.

See that one?

She's a mermaid.

Came straight off the reef.

Swim around and see what her tail looks like.

Even after dark, there's not much point in dressing for dinner.

And there's not much point in wearing a bikini when no one will see it.

Deep in the heart of Anandland, the haunting sound of the didgeridoo.

Up here, the average life expectancy of the adult male aboriginal is 43 years.

A lot of them don't make it. They die as babies.

The infant mortality rate is higher than the poorest areas of India.

My friend, I can see that you love me.

You finally...

Being left behind You loved her so much

Loved her only And now you smile Cannot

hide the tears In your mind

Knocks at your door.

Oh, but if you had your way, you would turn back the time.

Stone age men stoned an alcohol rushed into the 20th century.

This is a Darwin bottle shop.

We're told it has the highest sale of any bottle shop in Australia.

Life is short and seldom merry.

It's payday here in Darwin. The bottle shop can't keep up with the demand.

When you're black, you have lost your tribal lands. When you're black and

lost the folkways of your ancestors.

When you're black and you have money, but money is not part of your tribal

culture. What do you do?

You drink and forget the memories of the dream time.

The dream time has turned into a nightmare.

There's always someone waiting to sell you a bottle of self -destruction.

After all, you're Australian now.

You've got the right to drink.

There's a pub on every corner in Australia, and every man, woman, and

the country drinks around 20 gallons every year.

And some of them steal the children's rations.

Beer drinking is a way of life.

The empties lie in heaps stretching from Darwin to Adelaide and Perth to

Brisbane.

When the archaeologists of 3000 AD start to dig up our remains, they will think

that Australians worshipped a god shaped in the form of a bottle.

Though the heaviest beer drinkers in the world are said to be the Germans and

the English, one particular area stands out above all others.

In the Northern Territory of Australia, the annual intake has been estimated as

being as high as 52 gallons per person.

The Society for the Prevention of Alcoholism in Darwin had to be disbanded

1966 for lack of support.

The Mildura Working Men's Club is the general motors of the beer industry.

Beer drinking has been turned into a production line.

This is the longest bar in the world, listed in the Guinness Book of Records,

case you think we made that up after spending too long at the club.

In the Guinness Book of Records, this man, known to his friends as the

once held the world beer drinking record.

It shows.

He now weighs 28 stone.

Like all great champions, he has to keep in training. One day, he'll have

another shot at the record.

Through nearly 2 ,000 years of history, more murders,

rights, torture of human victims have

been committed.

by Christianity and religions who believe

in a single deity than in any form of witchcraft

together.

Witches practice magic.

They attempt to use supernatural powers by appealing to the spirits which are

everywhere in the world.

Eddie Pielke is a male witch who uses his powers for good rather than evil to

practice white magic, not black magic, to have access to the spirits of a world

older than any religion we know.

Our ceremonies are designed to free the human

mind from this prison which a Christian society has brainwashed them

into. But...

They are also designed to make use of the individual and

the group power of mind in order to achieve what you can

do in natural metaphysics, which society in true

hostility will call witchcraft.

Directed towards the targets.

of the coven.

And in combined effort, we shall make it true.

When God looks in the mirror, he sees himself reversed.

He sees the devil.

Where there is a god, there is a devil.

Where there is a priest, there is a witch.

Black witchcraft ceremonies are weird and frightening.

We witnessed such a ceremony in the middle of a forest not far from

What you are now seeing has seldom been photographed, and there was much more

that we were not permitted to photograph.

The ceremonies release the inhibitions of the devotees.

They take these Australians back into the remotest past, back into the unknown

dark, the prehistoric darkness long before the bright lights of the 1970s.

The rituals are the reverse of the Christian practice.

It is not a man on the cross, it is a woman, and the cross is upside down.

She is undergoing the frightening ordeal of initiation into the coven.

The old gods are knocking at the door of 20th century men and women frightened

by the evil of what they see in the world, the mindless, threatening

terrified of the future, discontented with the present.

The witch believes that the answer is somewhere in the past, in the spirits of

good and evil, in ecstatic self -knowledge, ideas which have haunted the

imagination through the centuries.

Just a few hundred years ago, they would have been burned at the stake for

performing this ceremony.

The last witch was executed in England less than 300 years ago, in 1684.

In Australia, after dark, they still call on the dark spirits.

And few of us can be sure whether the spirits answer them.

The ceremony is over.

The ritual completed.

On the far side of Australia, lapped by the warm waters of the Indian Ocean, is

Perth. A far out city.

Far out in every way.

It's a cheerful, bright, sunny place.

Broad streets and elegant buildings. A gay city.

A very gay city. Homosexual capital of the country.

Perth, it seems, has a higher proportion of homosexuals than any other city in

Australia.

Male homosexuals have come out of the dark.

When they come out, they claim all the rights of straight society.

In a time of changing sexual habits, they demand the same rights for their

of love.

They want to take their union seriously.

They have found the Reverend Mario Schoonmaker, who is willing to sanctify

kind of marriage with a marriage service.

Our friends, David and Philip, having found in each other the reflection of

divine love.

and to the end that their love for one another may be more perfectly fulfilled,

have come before God and in our presence to be consecrated in that love which

they have for one another and to be united in this covenant.

David, will you take Philip as your companion in this covenant of love?

Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him?

in sickness and in health, and be faithful to him.

Philip, will you take David as your companion in this covenant of love?

Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health,

and be faithful to him?

I do.

I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Philip, to witness

that I, Philip, to take you, David,

to be my loving companion in accordance with God's holy will to heaven to

hold from this day forward for better, for worse, for richer and poorer

in sickness and in health to love and to cherish and to this end

I pledge my word.

Bless and hallow this ring, O Christ, Lord of love, that they who wear it may

ever keep true faith to this covenant, and so abiding in your peace and in

conformity with your holy will, may live in love unchanging.

With this ring,

I pledge myself to you in this covenant of love. With my body I

reverence you. With my heart I enfold you. With my strength I protect

you.

And with my love I surround you.

Amen.

With this ring

I pledge myself to you.

I pledge myself to you in this covenant of love.

With my body I reverence you.

With my heart I enfold you.

With my strength I protect you.

And with my love I surround you.

Amen.

David and Philip have declared before God and their friends gathered here that

will live together in this holy covenant of love.

They have made sacred promises to each other.

They have symbolized this by joining hands and receiving a ring.

I, the Reverend Mario Schoenmaker, by the authority given unto me, pronounce

them therefore to be joined together in this holy covenant in the name of the

Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

They are now assuredly accepted before God, and what God has joined together,

men must never separate.

Here in Perth, a wedding between two people of the same sex is frowned upon,

not illegal.

So they go off on their honeymoon, the bride picking the confetti out of his

wedding outfit, testing what we used to call a love that dare not say its name.

Good luck, David and Philip, you'll need it.

All married couples need it.

No, not just another stripper.

She makes the same moves and the same removals, the art form pioneered by

Rose Lee.

But watch her carefully.

What sort of a woman is she?

Is she a woman?

Or is she something in between, a woman's nature trapped in a man's body,

between two sexual worlds not knowing which way to turn?

But she is a man.

At least, some of her is a man.

Under the hot red lights, the sexy thrust of the music, the body waits for

change operation.

Look at it carefully, as if you weren't.

Observe the final revelation, the seventh veil, the climax, and make your

decision.

New Guinea masks and carvings.

They represent gods who traditionally came out of the sky.

The belts, the helmets, the rivets, all suggest spacesuits.

For the New Guineans, there is no doubt these are the masks of creatures who

stepped out of the chariots of the gods.

In the north Queensland town of Tully, it rains by the yard.

Which may be the reason why creatures from outer space keep landing there to

fill the radiators of their flying saucers. Mrs. Claire Noble, a very

sensible lady, has recorded many sightings and traces of landings.

But the tally sightings in 1965 started, I would say, in the November period.

And then in the 1966, 67, 68 was really an invasion.

Many of the tally saucer lights have been seen coming in from the east.

crossing across the cane fields and heading along the foothills of Mount

which you can see in the distance there, then following along across the valley

and up to the back of a certain part of the Mount Tyson area.

But there have been other markings found in the area, some in the cane fields,

some up the Tully River Gorge, some just outside of the town area.

taking off from cane fields, hovering low above the cane at the

early morning and dusk as well.

These crafts have been different sizes. It's very hard to tell, of course.

We've had trains followed and people in cars followed and very much frightened

too. They put their big beam light down, which has been down in many parts of

the town.

The meaning of the flying saucers in our atmosphere is simply that the Elder

Brothers in charge of them, on many levels of consciousness above us, they

here for two purposes.

One, now that we've got atomic power, a third world war breaks out and gets out

of control, we would run the risk of destroying the planet.

Consequently, our Elder Brothers are going to see that we do not destroy the

planet. And the other reason that they're here, to conduct the

this planet into the new heaven and the new earth as predicted in the Bible.

So you come up against all this different variety of space beings, but

dealing with interdimensional and interplanetary beings.

Many different types have been seen from the very big tall men of nine feet,

seven feet.

Over the last few years, the three to four feet.

I have come into the picture more so.

And these are the little humanoid types.

And they've been seen taking in boulders, sand, plants, clippings and

grass, leaves, flowers, the whole works.

And they have a different facial structure, slanted eyes and sometimes no

lips, the very big bulbous heads and phenomenal strengths.

They've been...

Very hairy too.

I think that it's more than time that people sat up and took notice of the

flying saucer business.

In this last year, every hour there have been 32 sightings reported around the

world. But think also of the number of sightings that are not reported in,

would cover a very big amount.

You don't have to leave the city to find an alternative lifestyle.

Now here's a man seeking the simple, clean life.

See him at the end of a hard day of working in the office, keeping the

busy, an exhausting business lunch, and a bottle of red.

When you live under these pressures, you need something to relax your tired

nerves.

Slip behind the wheel of a white Mercedes, switch on the air

power steering, the hydraulic windows, the quadraphonic cassette player.

I drive down to the businessman's club.

This one, called the Daily Planet, is in Melbourne.

There he is, getting it all out of his system in the sunken Roman bath, heated

to just the right temperature.

That'll get the stiffness out of some of his joints.

A busy man like our friend here needs and deserves the loving care of two

personal handmaidens to help him forget completely the worry and the strain of

the office.

probably at the moment the work back at the office is the last thing on his

mind.

A businessman has to keep himself in shape.

In his daily job, the paces kill him.

After all, he has only one pair of hands, so it's only right and proper

needs the soothing assistance of two pairs of women's hands, sensually

the skin that contains so much commercial genius.

It all goes down on expenses, too. The firm can claim it's a tax deductible.

Sunup, 100 miles north of Perth.

We all want to get away from it all.

Some do.

This group has.

They've gone back to the country and set up an alternative community.

These 80 adults and 15 children have dropped out of the rat race.

They live on the natural vegetarian foods they grow themselves.

Their life is simple.

Their guide and philosopher is this 86 -year -old guru whose gentle persuasion

holds the group together.

He is their prophet and the center of their communal affection and love.

...the cause of the generation gap.

This all has to do with physical bodies, animal and human physical bodies.

Now then, of modern times, we've come to the generation gap.

There's the constitution of the average man of the old human race.

Even Bertrand Russell only had the concrete mental body, which was why he

get no positive proof of a personal God.

Here you've got the abstract spiritual mental body. And with the generation gap

all over the world, with every nation, wherever you go, you'll find the young

people coming up now, the babies, have all got the abstract spiritual mental

body. They are able to sift the true from the false, the good from the bad,

beautiful from the ugly, instantaneously.

There will be no possibility of deceiving them because they will have

perceptives.

The young people of this generation are divided into two groups, the destroyers

and the builders.

We have been concentrating on the builders.

we must finalize this work that we have done in bringing the brotherhood and the

way of life to a finality whereby there can be no possible argument.

As for the future where the brotherhood is concerned, we have established the

brotherhood of man under the fatherhood of God as a way of life which the

children, our elder brothers, and the Christ for the millennium That is the

normal way of life, producing happy, healthy people.

To demonstrate to every interested person just exactly what the end result

cooperating with our elder brothers and with the Christ.

This is the purpose of Karanya and the Shalem and the Universal Brotherhood and

the new land that we are going on to, to expand this principle.

We have now got the principle operating.

And we're going to demonstrate to the world.

Are they crazy or are we?

It is said that Frenchmen will follow an elegant pair of legs for miles.

That Italians pant after blondes like a dog on heat.

that Englishmen fancy schoolmistresses who will cane them.

What about Australians?

What turns them on?

Do they prefer beer to birds?

The evidence of our camera is that many Australians are sexually omnivorous.

They are general practitioners.

But there are also many specialists.

There are leg men, breast men, and, how shall I put it, well, there are men who

like to see women walking away from them.

They focus their attentive eyes on the posterior, bottom, backside, rump, butt,

sit -upon, mates, beauteous maximus, the bum.

These twin spheres of rounded flesh, big, medium, small, dimpled, rolling,

rocking, bumping and grinding, undulating, tight and sagging.

Fertile garden of Eden bursting with bottoms like grapefruit, pawpaws or

The psychologists think they know your secret passions.

Bonfanciers, they say, are a backward lot.

Secret homosexuals.

If we didn't know what a humorless lot they were, we might imagine they were

talking tongue -in -cheek.

At stag parties, footballers' booze -ups, rorty parties in the suburbs, club

smokers, wherever they're determined to have a good time, the first thing to get

after you've ordered the cake is a couple of porn movies.

George Schwartz exists to fill this market.

He makes porn movies.

Good, straight porn.

His clients want it straight. He's a specialist, an expert.

He has to know what the market wants to predict the latest fashions and consumer

tastes, whether the audience is into whipping, bondage, or lesbianism.

But the basic bread -and -butter porn is straight lovemaking.

Camera off.

Okay, Carrie, it's late.

You know your action. Fair enough, all three, take one.

Uh, it's late, one take.

Oh,

this is gonna be a birthday party.

I'm just so over this birthday party. I just can't wait for this

birthday party to begin.

Yeah.

It's hard work making a porn movie.

Hard on the actors, too.

As soon as they start enjoying their work, the director shouts... Get out of

here for a moment. I want to show you.

You see, the next thing is, when you get into... You see, I want that John can

see. You're going to fuck to music.

And it will be this kind of music, something like that.

You see, and then I want you to get into here and go exactly to the music.

You get the idea?

Oh, yeah, yeah, I can do that. Right, that is the touch.

So that's what I want from you this time.

I haven't got any of the music that I will do for the time being.

So that's what we want. So we'll shoot that now.

Okay. Right?

Sure. Shoot.

Action.

They will do cut for blow -dry.

Not in the hair, in the labia. Dry it in. Make it shiny.

It's glistening.

Rub it in. That looks like bloody cum.

For George Schwartz, it's a job of work.

He jokes with the performers to relax them and get a better performance.

By the end of the day, he doesn't want to see a naked body ever again.

It's a long time since he was turned on by the spectacle of naked flesh.

He's like any other businessman. He makes a product for the market. He hopes

market will always be there.

It probably will.

There has always been erotic art.

The form and curbs of women have fascinated artists since the Stone Age.

Two and a half thousand years ago, in the rock tombs of Etruscan kings and

princes, they cheered the dead with erotic paintings.

In the city of Pompeii, buried under the ash of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD, we can

still see on the excavated pavement an incised penis pointing the way to one of

the many brothels of the city.

In the sumptuous house of the Vetti brothers, wealthy merchants who knew how

enjoy the money they spent, one room is completely covered with erotic

paintings. They show in loving detail all the positions, all the permutations

and combinations of lovers through the ages.

Erotic art, whether it is ancient paintings or modern photographs,

human hunger for the beauty, the gentleness, and the savagery of

It is a free expression of the joy of tumbled bodies.

The ancient Greeks, the Romans, the Indians, all had a strong liking for

works of art.

So perhaps we here in Australia should admit unashamedly that we enjoy it

immensely too.

When Og the caveman ripped the bearskin pants from the thighs of Og the

cavewoman, he did not know he was a fetishist.

But we do.

The sexual desire of the fetishist fastens on some special aspect of women.

navel, the armpits, the toes, or something she wears.

Her stockings, brassiere, or panties.

The fetishist is not content with nudity.

His passion is for what covers up the nude body.

A hundred magazines cater for his needs.

The models tease his imagination with contrast of white flesh and black

stockings, the clinging froth of underwear which outline the curve of the

pedenda thrusting against the thin fabric.

The suspender belt, that thin and circling strip

of material letting down and holding up the elastic straining at the black

stockings.

The fetishist likes the erogenous zones, the breast, crutch, thighs and calves,

to be covered, yet half -revealed.

He wants to be titillated, teased with a promise of what lies underneath.

He works with his imagination, his senses sharp to the labyrinth of silk

contains the mysterious source of pleasure.

He is trapped by the concealed mystery of woman straining to reveal herself

under the cover of a wisp of this or that.

Half revealing, advancing and retreating, drawing him onward and

If she takes it all off, he loses interest.

Women know their power to excite.

They pamper their bodies, always striving to make their skins more

whiter, smoother, or feminine.

At spas throughout the world since the time of the Romans, the health -giving

and beautifying properties of mud have been known.

This girl plunges into the mud, sensually rubbing and squeezing it,

herself to the clinging intimacy of the mud.

Why does she do it?

Is it just to make herself more beautiful, or is it some psychological

get back to the warm, moist, enveloping womb of the mother who carried her in

her body for nine months?

Are women much more primitive than men?

Does she have some folk memory which draws her back to the primeval ooze of

warm swamp mud at the edge of the ocean, the life -giving mud our ultimate

ancestors swam into when they left the salt sea to make their way up the

evolutionary ladder from fishes to humans?

Don't ask her, she doesn't know. But she knows it feels good. She knows what it

means to her skin and body.

She's enjoying herself.

Another memory.

The warm milk of childhood becomes the milk bath of adulthood.

The wives of Roman emperors bathed in asses' milk.

Even the government tells you to drink a pint of milk a day.

Now you know why dairy farmers are called cow cockies.

How do you turn your wife on when you both know your lovemaking too well?

Here in Australia, like anywhere else, familiarity breeds boredom.

Get rid of those dreary white cotton sheets.

Put on crisp, sliding, sexy satin sheets.

And get out your recipe books.

Take three pints of thick cream.

Whip it up.

Put it in an icing bag.

Squeeze it over the cake.

Sorry, cheesecake.

following the lines of the body, tracking along the nerves that lead to

erogenous zones.

Decorate with fresh strawberries.

Frozen strawberries lead to frigidity.

Slowly, lingeringly, watching to see how much your cooking is appreciated.

Then perhaps add honey.

You know how many thousand lovers the queen bee has.

Slowly pouring it over the surface of the dish, flicking at it with your

Mmm.

And we suggest you serve with chilled champagne.

One thing leads to another, one appetite creates another.

And when you've both enjoyed the meal, there's one great compensation.

No dirty dishes to wash up.

Close your mouth and open your

heart. Nicholas Copernicus, the 15th century Polish priest and astronomer,

propounded the revolutionary theory that the sun was the center of the universe

and the earth moved around the sun.

People thought he was mad.

20th century Australia has its own Copernicus.

Count Copernicus. is the most beautifully confused entertainer in

today.

But out of this confusion, there seems to grow a colorful madness that almost

borders on sanity.

A few years back, he would not have been allowed to roam free in our society.

Beautiful schoolgirls remind me of sexy nuns.

Now listen here.

I'm a big man.

You understand?

I'm a big man.

Mankind is going through a...

Strange transition at the moment, known esoterically as Kali Yuga.

So, we've got to be a little cool.

This is about the second coming.

But it has absolutely nothing to do with orgasm.

Or does it?

I really love math.

I wish I was a ginger cat with a name like Marmalade.

No little bird, no mouse or rat would need to be afraid.

The Count abhors violence.

He feels there are better things to be done in this world than killing or

fighting.

If we must fight, it must be a non -violent fight for good and love and

understanding.

Instead of gaining gratification from violence, we should get our satisfaction

from love.

Now, isn't that food for thought?

Instead of thinking violent thoughts, perhaps we should all concentrate our

studies on the Kama Sutra.

What a better world that would be.

Anybody who thinks that sex is obscene should read the Kama Sutra.

If they still think it's obscene, they should get into television advertising.

If we can live through our animal fantasies, we can transcend them.

And in the end, it's... Just you and the one you love.

We must put our shoulder to the wheel.

Best foot forward.

Chest out.

Stiff upper lip.

Nose to the grindstone.

And together we shall march on into the unknown.

I'm dancing.

With tears in my eyes Cause the girl

in my arms Is a boy

Gina Allen lives on the barrier reef.

She's deeply concerned about conservation. She loves the fishes and

multicolored moving world of underwater.

Like a sea nymph, she gives herself to the water.

No need to wear anything but the essentials, the mask, flippers,

apparatus, which allow her to be a citizen of the sea.

She plays with the fish, lets the current take her, the reef is her home.

Gina Allen is another Australian going back through millions of years.

Back to the time when all of life was marine life.

To the great creating sea we all come from.

Where the waters supported the moving body and all of life was gliding through

the great sea.

The mother sea which gave us all life.

We have taken you on a journey through the strange byways of Australia after

dark.

But after the dark comes the dawn of a new and lovely day.

And Gina Allen is a beautiful way to watch the new day.

Don't turn off. Keep watching for further movie previews.