Droppiehttps://www.smh.com.au/culture/movies/you-voted-the-castle-number-1-as-the-director-i-understand-why-20260504-p5ztgd.html?ref=rss
If I had to pick a favourite consequence of making The Castle - the film that topped the readers’ favourites in The Age and Sydney Morning Herald’s Top 50 Australian Movies poll - it’s probably the public’s adoption of the film’s language. Some things amused us from the first draft. “The Vibe” seemed the funniest legal concept ever invented as soon as it was suggested. “Jenny Jenny or Microwave Jenny”, the distinction people make when they have two friends by the same name, was something that was always going to amuse only us. Then we heard a group had called their band “Microwave Jenny”. It made our day. After 40 years of using every line from This Is Spinal Tap, it’s nice to know we’ve given something back to that universe.
We’re not immune either. I find myself using lines from the film without realising it. After one of our kids completes even a minor task I reflexively say, “Dale dug a hole”.
Sometimes I’m not sure whether the lines are repeatable because they’re memorable or that they’ve just been repeated. Over and over again. We have Channel 9 to thank for that. For more than two decades they’ve started each year with two things in their schedule; Carols by Candlelight and a Saturday night rerun of The Castle.
The film-loving public are amazing at distilling a film into its essential repeatable parts. “That’s not a knife” seems to sum up all the humour in Crocodile Dundee, “Rule 303” sums up all the exquisite drama in Breaker Morant. No matter how many drafts you complete, the final one is in the hands of the public. Comedy films take on another life when that happens.
Comic set pieces are like favourite songs. Occasionally I’ll find myself on a plane firing up a Richard Curtis film in order to watch a succession of comic scenes I never seem to tire of. Crocodile Dundee the same. The filmmakers don’t really get a say in it. This is where the audience takes over. It still amuses me that of all the hits on Hot August Night, Sweet Caroline has become its anthem. Neil Diamond must scratch his head.
One of the nicest compliments starts something like this: “I tripped over your film (a Saturday night on Nine!) and thought I’d just watch a few minutes. I ended up watching the whole thing!” I do that with Die Hard.
That process has been our good fortune. In fact, it was a very fortunate project from the get-go. I look back at the cast and still wonder why they all said “Yes”! We didn’t have enough money for film stock, so I gently reminded everyone that we could only do two takes, three at the most. Imagine telling Bud Tingwell, Michael Caton and Anne Tenney that you only get two takes. I grew up with these stars. Fortunately even their rehearsals were pitch perfect.
A lack of money helped with our choices. The film is a child’s memory so the settings and the shooting style had to be simple and uncomplicated. Dale Kerrigan was at an age when kids think their parents are heroes. It’s only in subsequent years that it occurs to you that Dad is, on occasion, a bit of a dill, the neighbours are slightly crazy and your suburb is a little further down the Most Liveable list than you’d thought. We have Stephen Curry to thank for getting that right.
The location was easy. My cousins lived near that airport and we would run to the end of the runway every time we visited. I still remember thinking that it was the best place to live in the world. Imagine getting to watch jetliners land outside your bedroom window every day. Then I grew up and it became a funny anecdote.
The script was born from our love of childhood anecdotes. We’d been exchanging dozens of them over the years. Many found their way into the early drafts. For instance, I grew up in a suburb that was experiencing a greyhound racing craze. It wasn’t until I went to school in a leafier suburb that I saw a dog without a muzzle.
Santo Cilauro’s Italian parents ran a legal practice only metres from Dennis Denuto’s location. These stories were not only hilarious, they carried with them a warmth, a community spirit and an underdog quality that clearly made it into the film.
In the years after the release we were often encouraged to make a sequel. Having created a fertile comic world, why wouldn’t you return to it? It strangely never seriously came up. We would still joke about storylines. One idea had a terrorist hijacking at the airport with Darryl intervening. To be honest, it started to really amuse us and then 24 hours passed and it was never mentioned again.
Probably the one possible spin-off would have been a TV series with Dennis Denuto at the helm. Tiriel Mora played the stressed-out-of-his-depth suburban lawyer to perfection. His hapless failures at the encouraging behest of Darryl Kerrigan created a character that could have lived on. His triumph at the end of the film was no guarantee of ongoing success.
In order to illustrate his success, we needed him to alight from an expensive car, which the budget didn’t allow for. The only person we knew who had one was Eddie McGuire, who had only just traded up from an unroadworthy Datsun 120Y. The film is sprinkled with favours. Larry Emdur shot a segment with Tracey Kerrigan on The Price Is Right and still jokes he never got paid. At least I hope he’s joking!
I mentioned at the start that it was a project bathed in good fortune and that began before a word had been written. It came from frustration and a belief in audiences. Driven mad by unproductive meetings on a couple of our film projects, executive producer Michael Hirsh called a meeting of myself, Santo, Tom Gleisner and Jane Kennedy. His idea was simple if a little frightening. We would work out a budget we could afford and shoot a film at that cost with the sole aim of making an audience entertained. Back the comedy and back the audience. That was it. It remains a profound insight.
For all the mega-musicals circling the globe, the stand-up world shows all you need is a microphone and an audience. The Castle showed that sometimes all you need is the right audience. And that’s where we got truly lucky. Thanks, Australia.
Rob Sitch is an Australian film director best known for The Castle and Utopia. He is a co-founder of Working Dog Productions.
#TheCastle
If I had to pick a favourite consequence of making The Castle - the film that topped the readers’ favourites in The Age and Sydney Morning Herald’s Top 50 Australian Movies poll - it’s probably the public’s adoption of the film’s language. Some things amused us from the first draft. “The Vibe” seemed the funniest legal concept ever invented as soon as it was suggested. “Jenny Jenny or Microwave Jenny”, the distinction people make when they have two friends by the same name, was something that was always going to amuse only us. Then we heard a group had called their band “Microwave Jenny”. It made our day. After 40 years of using every line from This Is Spinal Tap, it’s nice to know we’ve given something back to that universe.
We’re not immune either. I find myself using lines from the film without realising it. After one of our kids completes even a minor task I reflexively say, “Dale dug a hole”.
Sometimes I’m not sure whether the lines are repeatable because they’re memorable or that they’ve just been repeated. Over and over again. We have Channel 9 to thank for that. For more than two decades they’ve started each year with two things in their schedule; Carols by Candlelight and a Saturday night rerun of The Castle.
The film-loving public are amazing at distilling a film into its essential repeatable parts. “That’s not a knife” seems to sum up all the humour in Crocodile Dundee, “Rule 303” sums up all the exquisite drama in Breaker Morant. No matter how many drafts you complete, the final one is in the hands of the public. Comedy films take on another life when that happens.
Comic set pieces are like favourite songs. Occasionally I’ll find myself on a plane firing up a Richard Curtis film in order to watch a succession of comic scenes I never seem to tire of. Crocodile Dundee the same. The filmmakers don’t really get a say in it. This is where the audience takes over. It still amuses me that of all the hits on Hot August Night, Sweet Caroline has become its anthem. Neil Diamond must scratch his head.
One of the nicest compliments starts something like this: “I tripped over your film (a Saturday night on Nine!) and thought I’d just watch a few minutes. I ended up watching the whole thing!” I do that with Die Hard.
That process has been our good fortune. In fact, it was a very fortunate project from the get-go. I look back at the cast and still wonder why they all said “Yes”! We didn’t have enough money for film stock, so I gently reminded everyone that we could only do two takes, three at the most. Imagine telling Bud Tingwell, Michael Caton and Anne Tenney that you only get two takes. I grew up with these stars. Fortunately even their rehearsals were pitch perfect.
A lack of money helped with our choices. The film is a child’s memory so the settings and the shooting style had to be simple and uncomplicated. Dale Kerrigan was at an age when kids think their parents are heroes. It’s only in subsequent years that it occurs to you that Dad is, on occasion, a bit of a dill, the neighbours are slightly crazy and your suburb is a little further down the Most Liveable list than you’d thought. We have Stephen Curry to thank for getting that right.
The location was easy. My cousins lived near that airport and we would run to the end of the runway every time we visited. I still remember thinking that it was the best place to live in the world. Imagine getting to watch jetliners land outside your bedroom window every day. Then I grew up and it became a funny anecdote.
The script was born from our love of childhood anecdotes. We’d been exchanging dozens of them over the years. Many found their way into the early drafts. For instance, I grew up in a suburb that was experiencing a greyhound racing craze. It wasn’t until I went to school in a leafier suburb that I saw a dog without a muzzle.
Santo Cilauro’s Italian parents ran a legal practice only metres from Dennis Denuto’s location. These stories were not only hilarious, they carried with them a warmth, a community spirit and an underdog quality that clearly made it into the film.
In the years after the release we were often encouraged to make a sequel. Having created a fertile comic world, why wouldn’t you return to it? It strangely never seriously came up. We would still joke about storylines. One idea had a terrorist hijacking at the airport with Darryl intervening. To be honest, it started to really amuse us and then 24 hours passed and it was never mentioned again.
Probably the one possible spin-off would have been a TV series with Dennis Denuto at the helm. Tiriel Mora played the stressed-out-of-his-depth suburban lawyer to perfection. His hapless failures at the encouraging behest of Darryl Kerrigan created a character that could have lived on. His triumph at the end of the film was no guarantee of ongoing success.
In order to illustrate his success, we needed him to alight from an expensive car, which the budget didn’t allow for. The only person we knew who had one was Eddie McGuire, who had only just traded up from an unroadworthy Datsun 120Y. The film is sprinkled with favours. Larry Emdur shot a segment with Tracey Kerrigan on The Price Is Right and still jokes he never got paid. At least I hope he’s joking!
I mentioned at the start that it was a project bathed in good fortune and that began before a word had been written. It came from frustration and a belief in audiences. Driven mad by unproductive meetings on a couple of our film projects, executive producer Michael Hirsh called a meeting of myself, Santo, Tom Gleisner and Jane Kennedy. His idea was simple if a little frightening. We would work out a budget we could afford and shoot a film at that cost with the sole aim of making an audience entertained. Back the comedy and back the audience. That was it. It remains a profound insight.
For all the mega-musicals circling the globe, the stand-up world shows all you need is a microphone and an audience. The Castle showed that sometimes all you need is the right audience. And that’s where we got truly lucky. Thanks, Australia.
Rob Sitch is an Australian film director best known for The Castle and Utopia. He is a co-founder of Working Dog Productions.
#TheCastle
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