All posts by Michael Burge

Journalist, author, artist

Let Tamar Iveri have her opera straight

IVERI HOMOPHOBIC Georgian soprano Tamar Iveri.
IVERI HOMOPHOBIC Georgian soprano Tamar Iveri.

A Writer (sort of) defends a diva.

AMID the flurry over Georgian opera singer Tamar Iveri and the comments she made in the social media about a protest march in Georgia on International Day Against Homophobia (IDAHO) in May, 2013, there was an assumption the soprano was just one homophobic voice in an accepting international opera industry, an aberration who must be silenced.

In an open letter to her country’s president, the singer compared gay people to “fecal masses”, a description picked-up by the social media ahead of Ivari’s scheduled performances for Opera Australia last year.

“Homophobia needs to be exposed, and that’s best done in the limelight where it has maximum impact.”

While I believe it was hypocritical of her to court Western dollars for her performances while condemning Western values which have attained mainstream followings, like LGBTQI equality, I’d like to place Iveri’s conservatism in context, particularly in the Australian performing arts scene.

Australian showbiz has long had an unspoken ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy about its same-sex attracted performing artists. From our televisions screens to our stages, generations of us have grown up with gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender entertainers and personalities, it’s just that we never knew them that way.

Almost forty years since Australia’s decriminalisation of homosexuality started in South Australia, you’d be forgiven for thinking the only ‘queer’ in prime-time, mainstream Aussie showbiz was Peter Allen, followed swiftly by Carlotta, Todd McKenney and opera singer Deborah Cheetham.

Statistics and common sense tell us that the numbers are much higher than that. Kindness and respect tells me that it would be simply unfair to extrapolate the rumours about which of our stars were (and are) simply ‘not the marrying kind’.

Does it really matter? Well, perhaps it does, when we are baying for blood over the homophobia expressed by a diva from the other side of the world, and the performing arts industry she has been a guest of puts on a very straight front.

NO PROBLEM Iran’s President Ahmadinajad speaking at Columbia University in 2007.
NO PROBLEM Iran’s President Ahmadinajad speaking at Columbia University in 2007.

The Tamar Iveri homophobia story reminds me of Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s reception at Columbia University in 2007, when he guilelessly professed that they do not have the gay ‘phenomenon’ in Iran.

A ripple of snorts, which became a wave of laughter, washed across the audience and left Ahmadinejad blinking.

After expressing their deeply held convictions about the level of homosexuality in their countries (Iveri cites a statistic with no evidence: “3 in 50″ are “born gay”, and the rest are “following the trend”), both commentators had their foundations rocked.

I see this as consciousness being raised, and I can only applaud it, because homophobia needs to be exposed, and that’s best done in the limelight where it has maximum impact and ongoing ramifications. So what is going on in 21st century opera for gays?

“Fabio is now the benchmark for the male opera star, not Pavarotti.”

When I typed “out gay opera singer” into a search engine I was met with extremes. The first news stories covered out gay opera singer, American counter-tenor David Daniels, who spoke with pride about his sexuality; and Swedish tenor Rickard Soderberg, who survived a random (possibly homophobic) attack.

At “33 Opera Hunks Who Need To Serenade You Right Now”, the parade of muscle men (one of whom, England’s Ed Lyon, identifies as #teamgay) reminded me of beefcakes gracing the romantic fiction section of bookstores.

Fabio is now the benchmark for the male opera star, not Pavarotti. Gone are the days when divas built like Brunhilde could pull off the role of starving slave girl.

Despite the sexy new out gay veritas in the opera industry, like closeted movie stars, gay opera performers might feel that being out while suspending disbelief as a straight hero or heroine is a bridge too far.

Meanwhile, amongst the ranks of design and directing staff in particular, same-sex attracted opera makers have maintained a public silence about homophobia. The secrets of the most ill-mannered and worst-behaved divas have always been kindly kept behind the scenes, the stuff of myth.

Pauline Pantsdown is one of only a few voices of protest from Australia’s showbiz industry about the Iveri issue. Opera Australia issued a statement announcing Tamar Iveri’s explanation of the circumstances behind her comments. Less than a week later, they released her from her contract.

While I applaud their decision, when I think about all the marriages of convenience and closeting in Opera Australia’s not too distant past, the company’s decision to part ways with her at this late stage, over homophobia expressed more than twelve months ago, contains a level of hypocrisy.

That they fêted her so long, and seemingly so unaware, smacks of blindness.

I would have liked to see Iveri perform in our country, just to see if the fuss caused any kind of protest. Surely at least one of the same-sex attracted opera staff might have sprung something on her, like not turning-up for her quick change, or not combing her wigs. A conductor could have downed a baton for Iveri’s big numbers, or one of the stage crew left her waiting.

Had she stayed, she couldn’t possibly have gotten through her Australian seasons without a hint of doubt about the ranks of same-sex attracted men and women working alongside her in the Australian opera industry, and a large percentage of the paying audience.

It’s laughable to inhabit the opera industry and commentate negatively on homosexuality. Take the gay out of opera and what are we left with? One homophobic diva who thought all those designers, costumiers, wigmakers, make-up artists and hairdressers were just a little light on their feet?

The work of composers Tchaikovsky, Britten and Schubert may one day land on Iveri’s music stand. Will she refuse to place their notes and lyrics in her mouth and have them flowing across her vocal chords because these men, being same-sex attracted, were akin to fecal matter? Or will she swallow that gay shit and project it to the back row?

creating-waves-cover
BUY NOW

Hopefully, the whole incident will have a lasting positive impact on same-sex attracted performing artists in this country. If so, it’s about time.

This article first appeared on No Fibs.

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved. 

This article appears in Michael’s eBook Creating Waves: Critical takes on culture and politics.

I’m a day job superhero

keep-calm-and-don-t-quit-your-dayjobA Writer’s other resume.

I’VE been writing full-time for six years, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually told anyone I am a writer.

The jobs of wordsmith – writing, rewriting, editing, selling, waiting – have occupied so much of my time that I have gone through two (diminishing) eyesight diagnoses. If I was a Hipster using a real typewriter, by now I’d have RSI…

But what I do carry is a certain amount of shame about my vocation.

“All-you-can-eat free popcorn is not a great deal after all.”

I know exactly why this is. Firstly, I have not had any of my major works published or performed (yet). Secondly, I still suffer from the illusion that it’s one’s day job – that which you get paid for – that is the only acceptable answer to that most difficult of questions for anyone who has not chosen a safe career: “So, what do you do?”

I worked on a print floor in my last year of school, and waited tables to put myself through university, but I don’t count these as real ‘day jobs’.

Day jobs are those employment periods you undertake to survive while keeping dreams alive. The Queen of day-jobbers was New York writer Helene Hanff, who floated her writing on the greatest number of day jobs I’ve ever encountered in a creative.

I’m proud of my day jobs. They’ve saved me from hunger and homelessness, and given me great inspiration for writing.

So, here it is – my ‘other curriculum vitae’ – another way to look at what I’ve done with my life.

Male applicants considered

When I moved to London a friend lined me up with her employment agent, who leaped at the chance to have a man on her books. I only managed to type 36 words a minute (40 was the minimum), so was sent to walk the halls of HarperCollins publishing in west London as a mail trolley boy. Most annoying moment: being so close to real publishers on a daily basis, but having nothing to submit. Career defining moment: deciding I was meant to start writing seriously.

Catering experience essential

If you can’t get a traineeship with the BBC, and you weren’t in the Cambridge Footlights, you can still have a career in London entertainment if you start as a post-production runner. Like ‘sandwich artist’ is designed to net desperate creatives, so ‘post-production runner’ entraps desperate media wannabes… it’s basically catering for the fabulous people. Most annoying moment: not having enough ciabatta to serve lunch to a hungry media maven. Career defining moment: resigning in order to find a job making programs instead of catering for them.

The misunderstood usher in Edward Hopper's 'New York Movie'.
CINEMA LEGEND The misunderstood usher in Edward Hopper’s ‘New York Movie’.

Good screen presence preferred

Ushering is the staple income of performers – it’s so close to the stage and the screen you can smell it, yet it’s far enough away to keep you driven to find your break wherever you can take it. South of the Thames in the genteel village of Greenwich I took to ticket collecting and didn’t look back. Most annoying moment: realising all-you-can-eat free popcorn is not a great deal after all. Career defining moment: seeing movies so many times I came to understand they’re full of the kind of mistakes media students routinely get shamed for.

Vegetarians need not apply

I came home from England, came out, and landed in career no-man’s-land. When the applications went nowhere, I went to the local Coles supermarket to work in the delicatessen. Refreshing the grey surface of trays of liver has never been as exciting. Warning for shoppers: deli staff give you nick-names based on your lip-licking, hungry-eyed facial expressions. Most annoying moment: having to hide in the cool room to avoid my high school classmates and teachers. Career defining moment: my Food Handling and Hygiene Certificate.

Willing to travel

It got me out of liver and shaved ham, but the travel industry was undiscovered country of its own. Daily struggles with brochure sorting, accounting systems, and fakey-fake customer service saw me come undone about the time I was let go because they only needed someone to cover the pre-Christmas rush. Most annoying moment: having to remind the boss that giving discount deals only to straight people was actually illegal. Career defining moment: seeing the new girl with the Ivana Trump hairdo go to lunch and never come back.

Mature outlook a positive

Suddenly widowed at 34, career dreams down the toilet, I joined the ranks of return-to-work mums and the recently redundant, caring for older people living in their own homes. Most annoying moment: when I realised the system was so stacked against many older people there’s almost nothing you can do to really help them. Career defining moment: it’ll come to me one day.

Good night vision a plus

Taking punters’ tickets at the door, playing with sound and light in enormous accoustically-perfect caverns, telling stories with drama and comedy, and often getting a round of applause… well, cave guiding was a distracting day job and fitness program in one. Most annoying moment: the petty jealousies and power trips of the public service… can’t pick one. Career defining moment: fooling entire Ghost Tour groups into believing we were completely lost.

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.

A Murdoch-free household is a galaxy too far

A Writer on Murdoch media.

NEWS sites are getting harder to access for free of late. Paywalls are up and apparently profitable for News Corp and Fairfax. Crikey has had one for years and last year Wendy Harmer’s flagship site The Hoopla shut the gate on free reads with its 34-cent per day subscription.

“Some of our most enduring book titles are in the Murdoch stable.”

Media-hungry online consumers are faced with a choice about where to get value for our money, but despite there being much more on offer than the old Fairfax vs Murdoch choice, the landscape is still dominated by these two big players.

This doesn’t matter if we’re not interested in reading anything published by the mainstream media. After all, progressive digital online media consumers have standards, right?

STICKER IT TO 'EM at News Limited.
STICKER IT TO ‘EM at News Limited.

Since I started participating in the social media I’ve seen plenty of lashes given to News Limited (the former name of News Corp). The bumper stickers: “Is that true, or did you read it in the (insert your state’s Murdoch daily/weekly)?” did the rounds. We all had a laugh and a chuckle, and called them ‘News Corpse’ when they changed names in 2013.

Seems newspaper reading is as much of a team sport as politics. Media hubs tend to pick sides on the major issues, and we follow their leads willingly.

But here in Queensland we’re hard-pressed to secure any kind of Fairfax title at a service station or shopping centre. If there are any copies of The Sydney Morning Herald or The Financial Review left by late morning, they’re down there in the shadow of the enormous stack of The Courier Mail which dominates the newsstands. I asserted as much on Twitter once and got rather angry responses from disbelieving right-wingers in the southern states, even after I posted the photographs which proved my point.

We have The Brisbane Times, a Queensland-focused online Fairfax news site (with no paywall as yet), but online news sites do not ‘hit the stands’ where three-word slogans are concerned.

WHERE'S FAIRFAX? 6.45am at the service station near my day job, no copies of SMH or The Financial Review available.
WHERE’S FAIR FACTS? 6.45am at the service station near my day job, no copies of SMH or The Financial Review available.

Clearly, Rupert rules the newsstands in Queensland, where voting habits tend to support his team, but what if I told you the coffee tables, magazine racks, DVD collections and bookshelves of staunch anti-Murdoch slacktivists across the country would reveal reading habits and literary choices replete with Rupert?

News Corp (and News Limited before it) is a lateral-thinking publishing company, not limited to news print or online hubs. Some of their lifestyle choices may shock you, from Gardening Australia magazine to MasterChef.

Movie production and DVD publishing are also a great forums for Murdoch’s 21st Century Fox empire striking back, so check your purchases of the Star Wars franchise if you want to be a Murdoch-free household.

Literature is not off the hook either. Some of our most enduring book titles are in the Murdoch stable. Lemony Snicket was borne of HarperCollins publishing in the years after 1989, when Murdoch acquired the company, along with the publishing rights of J.R.R. Tolkien. Who knew? Gandalf and Gollum turned team Murdoch!

I’m far from innocent, I hasten to add. The first job I managed to secure after a year of postgraduate study in the United Kingdom was a temp position at the enormous HarperCollins office in Hammersmith, west London, as a mail despatch boy pushing his trolley all day for a month in the late English winter of 1993.

Off the despatch room, entire skips of remaindered books sat outside, and we mail boys were allowed to take whatever we wanted before the contents went off to landfill. I retrieved plenty of Murdoch-owned titles by the likes of Janet Frame and C.S. Lewis.

My first freelance journalism income came from The Weekend Australian, when I managed to sell two stories to the Weekend Professional section. I’m acutely aware that for certain social media purists, me getting 75 cents per word from Rupert Murdoch is tantamount to betrayal.

Great English playwright Alan Bennett, the quietly spoken Yorkshireman who gave us The Madness of King George and The History Boys, had much higher standards than me when he made an admirable stand against Rupert Murdoch in 1998.

Offered an honorary degree by Oxford University, Bennett wrote to the institution which had accepted him (to read history) and Rupert Murdoch (to read philosophy, politics and economics) in the 1950s, to explain why he would have to decline due to the university’s creation of the Rupert Murdoch Chair in Communications, funded by the graduate himself.

Being a playwright, Bennett added his own brand of literary flair for the Vice Chancellor: “If the university thinks it’s appropriate to take Rupert Murdoch’s money perhaps they ought to approach Saddam Hussein to found a chair in Peace Studies.”

Bennett had more cause than me for Murdoch disdain, having watched his friend – British television personality Russell Harty – exposed in The News of the World for alleged association with rent boys.

At Harty’s 1988 funeral, Bennett delivered a eulogy which revealed how Murdoch-employed reporters harangued his friend in his hospital room. They were after a ‘Harty Has AIDS’ headline, but they did not find it. ‘Harty Has Hepatitis’ would have had a better (and more factual) ring to it. Bennett is surely gleeful at the demise of The News of the World 15 years on, its criminal invasions of privacy the cause.

So, where does all this leave the average punter who doesn’t want to line Rupert’s pockets with purchases of online subscriptions, books, DVDs, movie tickets and the like?

To avoid new versions of Murdoch’s HarperCollins titles, your local second-hand bookshop would be a great start. Old mags are piling up in op-shops – try them for back issues of Rupert titles like Inside Out and Donna Hay magazine.

For news, perhaps fork out for a subscription to the non-Murdoch source of your choice. Try one of the indies, or make a donation to No Fibs.

3175132-darth_vader2Going to the movies and buying DVDs is going to be fraught with potential hypocrisy – do your research in the broad-ranging licensing network of Murdoch’s media empire.

Or you could just get over it and accept that somewhere, somehow, if you read you’re probably going to be lining Rupert’s pockets, even just a little.

Don’t feel bad, just don’t take it out on Bilbo Baggins – like the cornered Luke Skywalker, he’s possibly in shock at revelations about his new ‘father’, Rupert.

This article first appeared on NoFibs.

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.