Mark McKenna

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This book provides an examination of Big Wednesday as an unconventional film that employs a mythic sensibility in its representation of the loss of youth and young manhood. Critically and commercially unsuccessful on its original release, the coming-of-age, surf drama Big Wednesday (1978), has undergone a significant reappraisal. It is now considered not only an important contribution to youth cinema, but also the most important film that John Milius ever made. Over six chapters, the book considers questions of authorship, commerce, genre, stardom, and myth, and explores how these ideas intersect with the film’s status as a significant youth movie and collectively how these ideas have contributed to its recent critical rehabilitation. In doing so, the book also provides a much-needed reassessment of an important and overlooked entry in the New Hollywood canon. Exploring Big Wednesday’s subsequent resonance and relevance, this unique study will appeal to students and scholars in film studies, popular culture studies, youth studies, sociology, and media studies.

This timely book examines how screen industry development has emerged as a vital strategy for economic and cultural regeneration in England's post-industrial regions. While Bristol, Manchester, and Liverpool have become established creative hubs, this study shifts focus to three underrepresented areas—The Solent and South Hampshire, Stoke-on-Trent and Staffordshire, and Sunderland—each grappling with decline and persistent underinvestment. Through comparative case studies, the book reveals how these regions are attempting to address these issues by developing screen industry initiatives despite having only limited resources. It analyses how local stakeholders navigate the interplay of infrastructure, governance, cultural capital, and narrative positioning to build creative ecosystems that strengthen cultural identity and promote place-based storytelling. Set against the backdrop of devolution, regional policy failures, and "Levelling Up" rhetoric, this research offers practical insights into how historically excluded areas can challenge established patterns of creative investment concentration. As such, it is essential reading for policymakers, creative professionals, researchers, and students in media studies, cultural policy, regional development, and economic geography interested in place-based cultural regeneration strategies.

This book provides an examination of Big Wednesday as an unconventional film that employs a mythic sensibility in its representation of the loss of youth and young manhood. Critically and commercially unsuccessful on its original release, the coming-of-age, surf drama Big Wednesday (1978), has undergone a significant reappraisal. It is now considered not only an important contribution to youth cinema, but also the most important film that John Milius ever made. Over six chapters, the book considers questions of authorship, commerce, genre, stardom, and myth, and explores how these ideas intersect with the film’s status as a significant youth movie and collectively how these ideas have contributed to its recent critical rehabilitation. In doing so, the book also provides a much-needed reassessment of an important and overlooked entry in the New Hollywood canon. Exploring Big Wednesday’s subsequent resonance and relevance, this unique study will appeal to students and scholars in film studies, popular culture studies, youth studies, sociology, and media studies.

Snuff (1976) occupies a unique place in cinematic history, as the first commercially successful film to capitalise upon the myth of the ‘snuff’ movie. By blending cinema verité styling with a media moral panic, savvy producer Allan Shackleton’s blending of a long-forgotten exploitation film with a newly filmed bloody, if unconvincing conclusion, only served to consolidate the belief that somewhere, at some time, someone was killed on camera in an attack that was as much about the sexual gratification of the film’s intended audience, as it was about the commercial rewards for those producing the film. In the years since its release, the film has been routinely cited as ‘evidence’ of the snuff movie’s existence, contributing to a cultural history that exists outside of the film. This book explores the production, distribution and exhibition of the film Snuff, alongside that cultural history, considering how a scarcely seen exploitation film contributed to a popular understanding of the snuff movie. It assesses the cultural, cinematic and political legacy of the film and asks whether the established definition of what might constitute a snuff movie, that was defined 45 years ago, is sufficient in an attention economy that is based upon participatory culture.

Snuff (1976) occupies a unique place in cinematic history, as the first commercially successful film to capitalise upon the myth of the ‘snuff’ movie. By blending cinema verité styling with a media moral panic, savvy producer Allan Shackleton’s blending of a long-forgotten exploitation film with a newly filmed bloody, if unconvincing conclusion, only served to consolidate the belief that somewhere, at some time, someone was killed on camera in an attack that was as much about the sexual gratification of the film’s intended audience, as it was about the commercial rewards for those producing the film. In the years since its release, the film has been routinely cited as ‘evidence’ of the snuff movie’s existence, contributing to a cultural history that exists outside of the film. This book explores the production, distribution and exhibition of the film Snuff, alongside that cultural history, considering how a scarcely seen exploitation film contributed to a popular understanding of the snuff movie. It assesses the cultural, cinematic and political legacy of the film and asks whether the established definition of what might constitute a snuff movie, that was defined 45 years ago, is sufficient in an attention economy that is based upon participatory culture.

The history of the 'video nasties' has been recounted many times and the films that caused so much offence have themselves been endlessly examined. However, the industry that gave rise to the category has received scant little attention. Earlier histories have tended to foreground issues of censorship, and as such, offer only glimpses of an under explored industrial history of British video. This book focuses explicitly on an industry that is still portrayed in heavily caricatured terms, that is frequently presented as immoral or corrupt, and that continues to be understood through the rhetoric of the tabloid press, as 'merchants of menace'.

Manning Clark was a complex, demanding and brilliant man. Mark McKenna's compelling biography of this giant of Australia's cultural landscape is informed by his reading of Clark's extensive private letters, journals and diaries - many that have never been read before. An Eye for Eternity paints a sweeping portrait of the man who gave Australians the signature account of their own history. It tells of his friendships with Patrick White and Sidney Nolan. It details an urgent and dynamic marriage, ripped apart at times by Clark's constant need for extramarital romantic love. A son who wrote letters to his dead parents. A historian who placed narrative ahead of facts. A doubter who flirted with Catholicism. A controversial public figure who marked slights and criticisms with deeply held grudges. To understand Clark's life is to understand twentieth century Australia. And it raises fundamental questions about the craft of biography. When are letters too personal, comments too hurtful and insights too private to publish? Clark incessantly documented his life - leaving notes to the biographers he knew would pursue his story. He had a deep need to be remembered and this book means he will now be understood in an unforgettable way.

The history of the 'video nasties' has been recounted many times and the films that caused so much offence have themselves been endlessly examined. However, the industry that gave rise to the category has received scant little attention. Earlier histories have tended to foreground issues of censorship, and as such, offer only glimpses of an under explored industrial history of British video. This book focuses explicitly on an industry that is still portrayed in heavily caricatured terms, that is frequently presented as immoral or corrupt, and that continues to be understood through the rhetoric of the tabloid press, as 'merchants of menace'.

In this inspiring essay, Mark McKenna considers the role of history in making and unmaking the nation. From Captain Cook to the frontier wars, from Australia Day to the Uluru Statement, we are seeing passionate debates and fresh recognitions. McKenna argues that it is time to move beyond the history wars, and that truth-telling about the past will be liberating and healing. This is a superb account of a nation's moment of truth." The time for pitting white against black, shame against pride, and one people's history against another's, has had its day. After nearly fifty years of deeply divisive debates over the country's foundation and its legacy for Indigenous Australians, Australia stands at a crossroads - we either make the commonwealth stronger and more complete through an honest reckoning with the past, or we unmake the nation by clinging to triumphant narratives in which the violence inherent in the nation's foundation is trivialised." Mark McKenna, Moment of Truth

This is an imaginative and original new telling of modern Australia through the history and stories of ten places, all revisited and explained by award-winning author and historian Mark McKenna, including Sydney Cove, Port Essington, The Pilbara, Central Australia, Canberra, Anzac Cove, coastal cities, Christmas Island, Tasmania and the western suburbs of Sydney

For twenty years, Ancient Paths has sought to publish quality literature on subtle Christian themes. This installment features the work of three promising poets (Nicholas Samaras, Paul David Adkins, and Carol A. Oberg) and two arresting authors (Mark McKenna and Edoardo Albert). Join in this sometimes sweet, sometimes sad, but always surprising journey of faith.

Presents an argument for imagining the republic anew. Mark McKenna writes passionately, explaining why the two great symbolic issues of Australian politics in the 1990s - the republic and reconciliation - are linked intimately to one another. The only way forward is a reconciled republic, a republic founded on the full recognition of Australia's history.

This collection of readings is designed to transform the way Australians understand republicanism. This collection of readings is designed to transform the way Australians understand republicanism. The editors, Mark McKenna and Wayne Hudson, have harvested a wealth of previously neglected historical sources to produce a fascinating collection of original documents that grapple with the issue of Australian republicanism. In the vein of Manning Clark's Select Documents in Australian History, this collection offers an inspiring and salient sample of Australian viewpoints, from the famous to the obscure, the official to the flagrantly informal, the rhetorical to the ridiculous. McKenna and Hudson argue with wit and conviction that the republic has a place in Australia's future, but only if it is a republic founded on a vision of inclusion. 'This is the first principle of creating a sense of ownership and belonging--a republic about which people might begin to care.'

Blackfellas' Point lies on the Towamba River in south-eastern New South Wales. As the river descends rapidly from its source on the Monaro plains, it winds its way through state forest, national park and farming land. Around twenty-five kilometres before it reaches the sea, just south of Eden, it passes through Towamba, the small village in which Mark McKenna now owns eight acres of land. Mark's land looks across the river to 'Blackfellas' Point', once an Aboriginal camping ground and meeting place. Looking for Blackfellas' Point is a history that begins by looking across the river to the arc of bush that is 'Blackfellas' Point. From there, Mark McKenna's gaze pans out - from the history of one place he knows intimately, to the history of one region and, ultimately, to the history of Australia's quest for reconciliation between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians. Looking For Blackfellas' Point is a history for every Australian who is interested in the story of settler-Australia's relations with Indigenous people - what happened between us, how we learnt to forget and, finally, how we came to confront the truth about our past and build a movement for reconciliation.

The idea of an Australian republic has existed from the moment the First Fleet sailed into Sydney Harbour. This book is a comprehensive history of republican thought and activity in Australia and traces republican debate in Australia from 1788. It explains the pivotal role played by republican philosophies in the decades before responsible government was granted to the Australian colonies in 1856 and prior to federation in 1901. Mark McKenna also describes the often erratic appearance of republicanism during the twentieth century, focusing in particular on the period after 1975, when the issue of a republic became a prominent and increasingly fixed term on the political agenda. This book will be essential reading for all those with an interest in political and intellectual history. It calls for a higher level of public debate about the republic and makes an outstanding contribution to this debate itself.