by Stephen Vagg
One of our favourite Australian actors, who passed away this week
When we were young, as in really young, David Argue was one of our favourite actors. This was partly because he was in so many great films, but mostly due to him having such kid energy himself, with his livewire nature, compulsive energy, sense of anarchy, and unpredictability; the Sydney Morning Herald called Argue “the unlit cigarette of the Australian TV and film industry”, and that’s a pretty good description. He seemed dangerous, irreverent, humorous, destructive, and risky, carrying a sense that anything could happen, and would, especially in the face of authority, like an Australian Marx brother or Timothy Carey; this was enormously appealing, especially to kids.
Our appreciation for Argue was based on four movies in particular, all of them iconic in our cultural history, and films we adored growing up (and still re-watch). First was Gallipoli (1981), a picture every school kid in the 1980s was legally required to see in class by bored history teachers, and the favourite Australian movie of Tony Abbott, no doubt due to its combination of athleticism, martyrdom, and absence of women.
You might’ve forgotten that Argue was in Gallipoli, but for us, his character, the under-age soldier Snowy, was as crucial as any to the story, bringing to life a whole other side of the Anzac legend – funny, cocky, brave (“We got there, but, Frank. We took their bloody trenches”), arrogant, racist, cheeky (“Supposed to shoot the enemy mate, not bite them”). It’s a film of relentless emotional devastation in the third act – Mark Lee going down Christ-like; the tragedy of the sacrifice made by Bill Hunter’s character (the one person in that film with a functioning brain) – but few moments are as powerful as the innocent face of the mortally wounded Snowy, asking Frank (Mel Gibson) to give his diary to his mum and dad; it’s like seeing a school mate about to die – a big kid, whose life was snuffed out before he had a chance, like so many in that campaign.
Second was BMX Bandits (1983), perhaps the greatest Australian kids’ film ever, a brilliantly fun and high-spirited heist tale from director Brian Trenchard-Smith at his peak, with Argue having the time of his life as the head bumbling crook, Whitey. There are few more iconic moments in Australian cinema than an exasperated Whitey, having lost track of Nicole Kidman’s stuntman once more, yelling out “aw… poo!” We recognise Argue’s excellent work in another film that came out around the same time, Going Down, but we didn’t watch that twelve times over the summer like we did with BMX Bandits.
Third in the iconic Argue oeuvre was Razorback (1984), our greatest killer creature movie. Artistically bold, stunningly shot and scored, it is full of memorable performances, from the sheer likeability of Arkie Whiteley to Bill Kerr’s Captain Ahab-style avenger… but we doubt anyone would deny the picture was stolen by Argue and Chris Haywood as the gun-toting, pet-food-making Baker brothers, with their outlandish songs, cackling, eyewear, clothes and attitudes, providing a sense of eccentric menace that would have terrified the inhabitants of the town in Wake in Fight. If Argue and Haywood wind up overpowering the threat of the razorback, they do rank among all-time great Australian cinema villains.
Sidebar: in April this year, we met Russell Mulcahy, who directed the movie, and wound up chatting about David Argue, who Mulcahy had just been talking to on the phone – they were still mates after all those years, which is lovely. Cripes, those two must have partied in their time.
You can watch Razorback here.
The fourth key Argue performance for us was in Backlash (1986), Bill Bennett’s semi improvised classic, where Argue and Gia Carides play police officers escorting Lydia Miller across the country. Bennett cast Argue for his sense of danger and improvisational skills, and had to deal with a lot of both throughout what we gather was an extremely fractious shoot. Nonetheless, Bill Bennett, like Peter Weir, Brian Trenchard-Smith and Russell Mulchay, managed to capture the magic of Argue – it’s impossible to take your eyes off him in Backlash, he looks like someone capable of anything.
From everything we’ve read about Argue, the anarchy evident in his screen persona bled into his personal and professional life – his unconventional approach to work occasionally led to clashes with colleagues, and he was reportedly fired from Phar Lap, A Fortunate Life and Great Expectations: The Untold Story. There were rumours of a drug problem; he admitted to heavy drinking and being agoraphobic.
Take a listen to this interview with Argue.
Against this was Argue’s tremendous talent, which was immediately identified and, for a long time, celebrated – he was accepted into NIDA at age sixteen, left early to play a key role in The Restless Years, was nominated for several Best Supporting Actor AFI Awards in the early 1980s. He made numerous appearances throughout the ‘80s and early ‘90s, often working with top flight talent: feature films (Road Train, Hercules Returns, Midnite Spares, Melvin Son of Alvin), TV (Raw Silk, Corelli), short films (John Hillcoat’s Frankie and Johnnie), on stage (Bouncers, The Country Wife, Hair), cabaret (The Flying Trapeze Cabaret), various ice shows (David Argue on Ice… his parents were ice skaters). He also wrote a book (And Even the Rats Clapped). He worked with some of the best directors in the country – not just Weir, Bennett, Trenchard-Smith and Mulcahy, but also Hillcoat, Michael Rymer, Neil Armfield, David Parker, Nadia Tass. The credits dried up after the mid-nineties, although he did appear in the movie called The Argues which is on Tubi.
Interesting person, David Argue. Colourful life. Came along at a time when our film, theatre and TV industries were really thriving and brought a lot of joy to people. One of a kind, that’s for sure.
