By Erin Free
You could probably argue that pretty much any Australian director working in the local industry could safely qualify as an Unsung Auteur considering the general lack of attention paid not just to Australian cinema, but particularly to those who make it. Unless you’re Baz Luhrmann, or a veteran titan like Peter Weir, Gillian Armstrong, Bruce Beresford, Phillip Noyce, George Miller et al, the populace at large is very unlikely to recognise you, even if they may recognise some of your work. Within the film industry itself, however, it’s a different story. It’s safe to say that producer, writer and director Michael Jenkins – who very sadly passed away recently at the age of 77 – was known to, well, pretty much everyone in the local industry, with his behind-the-camera pedigree stretching all the way back to 1967’s seminal TV series Bellbird, the first successful locally produced soap opera, and thus a precursor to later standard bearers like A Country Practice and Neighbours. The lack of appropriate praise applied to Michael Jenkins’ impressive body of work, however, sees him land his place among the Unsung Auteurs.
Though he has a handful of top-tier film credits to his name, Michael Jenkins made his greatest mark in the world of local television, which is where we’ll begin. After beginning his career on the aforementioned Bellbird, Jenkins wrote and directed for television over a period of decades, helming episodes of series like Certain Women, Bailey’s Bird, Police Rescue, Young Lions and many more. Jenkins’ reputation for tough, muscular, gritty television came with two utterly essential crime mini-series. A cause celebre upon its screening in 1983, Scales Of Justice looked at festering corruption across the spectrum of Australian policing, from the burnished idealism of young uniform cops right into the upper echelons of the corridors of power. Tough and confronting, this incredible piece of television rated as our best ever crime-focused mini-series until, well, Michael Jenkins topped it.
Now one of the most notorious, controversial programmes in television history, 1995’s Blue Murder is famous for something else: its blinding, unfettered brilliance. From its crackling screenplay by the great Ian David through to its bold performances and driving soundtrack, this mini-series stands head and shoulders above all other crime dramas produced for local television. Though there are certainly competitors (Underbelly, Phoenix, Janus, The Great Bookie Robbery), none hit the perfect mix of grimy realism and thundering entertainment that Blue Murder provides, and Michael Jenkins was its stylistic driving force.
This big, sweeping tale spans decades in its depiction of the corruption and violence that placed a stranglehold on New South Wales, cutting off all blood supply to decency and justice, and turning the state into a place of wildness and criminal domination. The sprawling story finds its focus in the characters of hero-gone-bad Detective Roger Rogerson (Richard Roxburgh) and infamous standover man, bank robber and drug dealer Neddy Smith (Tony Martin) – though ostensibly on opposite sides of the law, they form an alliance that brings in thousands of dollars, costs several lives, and damages the credibility of an honest cop (Steve Bastoni) who gets caught in the crossfire of their power plays.
Blue Murder is a wild, vividly entertaining ride on Australia’s outlaw fringes, and it will now stand as Michael Jenkins’ most towering achievement. “Most filmmakers are drawn to characters who break the rules,” Jenkins said of Blue Murder. “They drag your interest in. By and large, you look for characters with big dimensions who do reckless things.” Though Michael Jenkins would direct other truly mighty examples of Australian one-off television (1988’s The Dirtwater Dynasty with Hugo Weaving; 1993’s utterly heartbreaking and beautifully crafted The Leaving Of Liverpool) and would also co-create and direct the exemplary TV series Wildside, none of those superb titles quite reach the brilliant, fiery grandeur of the utterly masterful Blue Murder, including its excellent Jenkins-directed 2017 follow-up, Blue Murder: Killer Cop.
Though Michael Jenkins didn’t work as prolifically on the big screen as he did on television, his cinematic output is truly impressive, beginning with his astute, highly literate and keenly intelligent 1983 adaptation of Sumner Locke Elliott’s novel Careful, He Might Hear You, which was beautifully directed by Carl Schultz. Jenkins made his feature directorial debut in 1985 with Rebel, an adaptation of Bob Herbert’s play No Names, No Pack Drill starring US import Matt Dillon as an American soldier who goes AWOL in Australia after falling for a local singer (Debra Byrne). Now largely and very sadly forgotten, the poorly received Rebel is a highly entertaining, decently budgeted romantic drama boasting musical numbers, a dazzling vision of WW2 Sydney, and excellent performances from a big cast of Aussie legends, including Bryan Brown and Bill Hunter.
Jenkins also directed a slick, snappy 1988 adaptation of David Williamson’s vital play Emerald City (with John Hargreaves, Robyn Nevin, Nicole Kidman and, especially, Chris Haywood, all at the top of their respective comedic games) and the truly charming (and very underrated) 1991 comedy Sweet Talker (excellently performed by Bryan Brown, Karen Allen and Justin Rosniak), but his greatest cinematic legacy unquestionably comes with 1993’s The Heartbreak Kid, which Jenkins adapted from Richard Barrett’s play, working with the writer on the script and ultimately crafting a tough but vibrant teen drama that still stands as one of this country’s best.
Though ostensibly the story of an illicit student-teacher romance, The Heartbreak Kid is truly notable for its honest, authentic depiction of second-generation Australian migrant children, which was very rare at the time of release. Offering a fantastic early role for Claudia Karvan and the sensational debut performance of a dynamic and then-unknown Alex Dimitriades (“Mike Jenkins taught me about the foundational pillars of realism, understanding a character, and where you’re going and why,” Dimitriades told FilmInk), the cultural importance of The Heartbreak Kid cannot be overlooked…although it often is. Jenkins was also instrumental in the creation of its long-running, hugely successful 1990s TV spin-off series Heartbreak High, which pushed the film’s multicultural elements even further, and is currently enjoying a highly contemporised revival on Netflix.
A storyteller of singular toughness, honesty and lack of compromise, Michael Jenkins very sadly passed away on March 4, 2024 at the age of 77, leaving behind a resume that would be the envy of just about anyone in the local entertainment industry…but a resume that still hasn’t been celebrated with quite the true reverence it so richly deserves.
“Those of us who were privileged to know him well will remember Mike not just for what he did, but also for the way he did it,” Jenkins’ friend, collaborator and esteemed screenwriter Peter Schreck wrote in a beautiful obituary for The Australian Writers Guild. “Give anybody the power to hire and fire and they can be a boss, but leadership is rare – and great leadership is extraordinary. Mike was extraordinary. Mike was seldom the tallest person in the room, and in truth he may have sometimes been the shortest – but I guarantee you, you never noticed that until maybe the end of the day or the end of the shoot when you were having a beer. I never once heard Mike raise his voice, but there was never any doubt as to who was in charge – and in charge in the best possible way.”
If you liked this story, check out our features on other unsung auteurs Robert M. Young, Robert Thom, Graeme Clifford, Frank Howson, Oliver Hermanus, Jennings Lang, Matthew Saville, Sophie Hyde, John Curran, Jesse Peretz, Anthony Hayes, Stuart Blumberg, Stewart Copeland, Harriet Frank Jr & Irving Ravetch, Angelo Pizzo, John & Joyce Corrington, Robert Dillon, Irene Kamp, Albert Maltz, Nancy Dowd, Barry Michael Cooper, Gladys Hill, Walon Green, Eleanor Bergstein, William W. Norton, Helen Childress, Bill Lancaster, Lucinda Coxon, Ernest Tidyman, Shauna Cross, Troy Kennedy Martin, Kelly Marcel, Alan Sharp, Leslie Dixon, Jeremy Podeswa, Ferd & Beverly Sebastian, Anthony Page, Julie Gavras, Ted Post, Sarah Jacobson, Anton Corbijn, Gillian Robespierre, Brandon Cronenberg, Laszlo Nemes, Ayelat Menahemi, Ivan Tors, Amanda King & Fabio Cavadini, Cathy Henkel, Colin Higgins, Paul McGuigan, Rose Bosch, Dan Gilroy, Tanya Wexler, Clio Barnard, Robert Aldrich, Maya Forbes, Steven Kastrissios, Talya Lavie, Michael Rowe, Rebecca Cremona, Stephen Hopkins, Tony Bill, Sarah Gavron, Martin Davidson, Fran Rubel Kuzui, Elliot Silverstein, Liz Garbus, Victor Fleming, Barbara Peeters, Robert Benton, Lynn Shelton, Tom Gries, Randa Haines, Leslie H. Martinson, Nancy Kelly, Paul Newman, Brett Haley, Lynne Ramsay, Vernon Zimmerman, Lisa Cholodenko, Robert Greenwald, Phyllida Lloyd, Milton Katselas, Karyn Kusama, Seijun Suzuki, Albert Pyun, Cherie Nowlan, Steve Binder, Jack Cardiff, Anne Fletcher ,Bobcat Goldthwait, Donna Deitch, Frank Pierson, Ann Turner, Jerry Schatzberg, Antonia Bird, Jack Smight, Marielle Heller, James Glickenhaus, Euzhan Palcy, Bill L. Norton, Larysa Kondracki, Mel Stuart, Nanette Burstein, George Armitage, Mary Lambert, James Foley, Lewis John Carlino, Debra Granik, Taylor Sheridan, Laurie Collyer, Jay Roach, Barbara Kopple, John D. Hancock, Sara Colangelo, Michael Lindsay-Hogg, Joyce Chopra, Mike Newell, Gina Prince-Bythewood, John Lee Hancock, Allison Anders, Daniel Petrie Sr., Katt Shea, Frank Perry, Amy Holden Jones, Stuart Rosenberg, Penelope Spheeris, Charles B. Pierce, Tamra Davis, Norman Taurog, Jennifer Lee, Paul Wendkos, Marisa Silver, John Mackenzie, Ida Lupino, John V. Soto, Martha Coolidge, Peter Hyams, Tim Hunter, Stephanie Rothman, Betty Thomas, John Flynn, Lizzie Borden, Lionel Jeffries, Lexi Alexander, Alkinos Tsilimidos, Stewart Raffill, Lamont Johnson, Maggie Greenwald and Tamara Jenkins.
