The Dismissal

A sensitive, well-researched reconstruction of a critical event in Australia's political evolution. An excellent cast rising to the challenge of playing the giants of Australian political life. I was 26 in 1975 and watching the series 25 years later brought back all the feelings of disbelief and bewilderment I experienced at the time. Wonderful television.

O.K., here's another chance for those out there to have their little bit of a whinge at the Governor General saving our democracy by calling an election (gee, what a really subversive thing to do... ask the people what they want).

The series is good, well acted and highly worth watching. If you are not an Australian and want to get an excellent idea of the difficulties the nation was facing at by far the most critical moment in our history, this is not a bad way to get it.

It is just such a pity that inevitably, despite good efforts of those involved in the production, the story will be hi-jacked by the "chip-on-the-shoulder" set, who are so caught up in their own pathetic political beliefs, that they fail to realise that the result of the Governor General stepping in to resolve a serious subversion of our democratic system was to allow the people to decide.

I may just want to remind everyone that the result of the election was that Whitlam and the ALP were completely trounced (as they were again in 1977).

A great little mini-series!

One of the fitting things with this series is the narration, which introduces it: "This isn't going to be easy." It's not an easy ride for anyone who remembers it. Mention of these events can still start screaming matches in any Aussie pub. That's the second reason to see it.

The first reason to see it is the stunning portrayal of Gough Whitlam by the late Max Phipps - one of Australia's greatest actors.

Kennedy-Miller could hardly have done a better job at tackling a very challenging exercise: making dry political events work as human drama, and providing an even-handed representation of explosively controversial subject matter.

The key to its success on the first count is brilliant acting, although I was less impressed by Max Phipps' performance as Gough Whitlam than some other commenters here. The clear standouts for my money were John Stanton as Malcolm Fraser and Bill Hunter as Rex Connor. The latter must have been one of the easiest casting choices in history - Hunter could not have been more perfect for the role. On the second count, the series avoids the "myth of objectivity" trap through a narrator who articulates the sympathies of the director (Phillip Noyce, who more recently demonstrated his left-wing credentials in Rabbit Proof Fence), while being carefully even-handed and sympathetic in its dramatic portrayal of all parties. The adherence to the Lady Kerr/Lady Macbeth theme popular among Labor partisans was perhaps a little partial, though not ruinously so. In particular, credit is due for the sympathy shown to Kerr and the extraordinarily difficult position he was placed in, whatever one might think of his actions.

However, there is one sour note for which the producers were perhaps not entirely to blame - the portrayal of the Jim Cairns/Juni Morosi affair. Those who come to the series with no background to these events will get the impression that Cairns and Morosi were the innocent victims of a smear campaign by a prurient gutter press. The producers may have been restrained in this respect by Australia's stultifying defamation laws, and the recently demonstrated willingness of Cairns and Morosi to use them against those who suggested their relationship was sexual (which Cairns would eventually admit to a year before his death). However, more could have been made of the bizarre fashion in which Morosi managed Cairns's office as Treasurer.

Speaking of defamation, there are a couple of disorienting occasions where dialogue is obscured due to injunctions taken out by offended principals - by a beeping noise on one occasion, and a very loud telephone ring on another. A further curiosity: the DVD release excises a line from the comic relief scene where a customs officer (played by the late Paul Chubb) serves Tirath Khemlani on his arrival at Sydney Airport. Next in the queue is a dishevelled looking hippie, who now receives only a disapproving glare from Chubb when he presents his paperwork. In the original version, Chubb said something along the lines of: "drug bust in Bali, eh?". Obviously this line no longer rings true in the wake of the Schapelle Corby case, which dramatically illustrated that those busted for drugs in Bali can expect far worse than deportation.

Although I lived in Australia in 1975, I moved overseas not long after, fed up with constant industrial unrest, the general worship of mediocrity - unless one is a sportsman! - and the complacency of so many Australians who chose to ignore the breakneck pace of change taking place in countries to their north.

Consequently I missed The Dismissal, along with many other Australian-made TV dramas of the '80s and '90s, such as the superb Janus and Phoenix series, which I have since seen, along with Wildside.

To me the filmed story of The Dismissal is fair and, as far as I am aware, accurate. However, as to public "outrage" it only shows one side of the picture, not how families were riven by the controversy. I know, as my two brothers would not speak to me for months afterward.

But the commentary is, in my view, very one-sided throughout. The inescapable fact is that, notwithstanding fiery expressions of rage from a substantial proportion of the community, the Australian electorate chose - and chose decisively - in favour of Fraser, as they did again two years later.

This apart, a historically accurate and superbly well acted docudrama.