In Australia, the 1990s are remembered as a decade of economic uncertainty bookended by the ‘recession we had to have’ in 1991, and a strong GDP. This era of doubt and prosperity has been acknowledged recently in American films like Jonah Hill’s Mid-90s (2018) which captured a turbulent adolescence against the skate culture of the time; and Jonathan Levine’s The Wackness (2008), about a laid-back yet ambitious weed dealer and soundtracked by a fertile hip-hop scene. Earning its place among this recent resurgence of 90s nostalgia on screen is Tim Barretto’s feature film Bassendream (2022) which depicts a slice of life in Australia three decades ago with utmost authenticity.
Set in the Perth suburb of Bassendean (roughly ten kilometres from the Perth CBD), Bassendream a mosaic of character stories coalescing over the course of one day during the summer holidays sometime in the mid 90s. Marty (Steen Williams) and his crew of mates – Sam (Billy Kristicevic) and Jackson (Ethan Hall) – seek revenge upon Marty’s big brother Bill (Jack Mitchell) for destroying a Michael Jordan rookie NBA card (worth $35!). Ben (Luke Koller), Jesse (Oriah Chittleborough) and Tim (Luke Newman) antagonise the local denizens like Pam (Trish Zanetti). Sally (Yasmine Caldwell) prepares to say goodbye to her best friend Lauren (Cezera Critti-Schnaars) who is leaving Bassendean. Soon-to-be-mum Annie (Georgia Wilkinson-Derums) wrestles with her outdated car and stay-at-home wife Fran (Renee Newman) is endlessly frustrated by her husband Paul (Kingsley Judd) who refuses to help around the house.
When I ask Tim Barretto if there could have been an alternative to shooting Bassendream on film, he explains it was a matter of continuity. Barretto grew up in Perth and lived in Bassendean when he was younger before heading to Sydney to attend film school. He says, “even when I was at university, I shot on 16 millimetre and then I went to [Sydney College of the Arts] where I shot on 16 millimetre. So, I never felt like there was a gap in my timeline.” Bassendream is set during a time when celluloid (film) ruled as the dominant mode of production and so Barretto’s decision to shoot analogue enhances this specificity. This partially explains a recent resurgence of celluloid, particularly in short films by emerging filmmakers like Andreas Giannopoulos and his short Friends of Mine (2021), Paddy Hay’s Cuckoo Roller (2019) and Pat Mooney’s Lime Parfait (2022).
Speaking on the importance of celluloid, Barretto invokes the tangibility of the medium, “I think there's the desire for something to exist… when you capture it on film, it can exist in a physical form.” This sensitivity towards historical acuity complements Bassendream’s evocation of a time when landline phones dominate, basketball cards and Mambo t-shirts are cool, and the Spice Girls are popular enough to warrant a cover band called the Pop Tarts to perform ‘Wannabe’ during a pivotal scene in the film. However, this tangibility also proves to be one of celluloid’s complexities. Barretto recalls sending the film negatives in the mail, telling me “there’s our three weeks of shooting in one go”. He remarks that “it was liberating [because] once you hand it off or send it to the postman… it's in someone else's hands.” This temperamentality is part of the fun of using celluloid.
Bassendream’s 90s feel is enriched by a soundtrack full of Australian classics by artists such as Australian Crawl, Paul Kelly, Jebediah and The Triffids. Whilst slightly self-effacing, Barretto notes that he always felt “Perth was a decade behind [America]… if [Melbourne and Sydney] are five years behind America, [Western Australia is] another five years.” This partially informed his decision to select such infamous songs from the 1980s like Paul Kelly’s ‘Dumb Things’ and The Triffids’ ‘Save What You Can’ because, as Barretto reminds me, “[the characters] would have been more listening to 80s music.” Reflecting upon the era, Barretto says that “Perth specifically [was]… way more influenced by American television than Home and Away or Neighbours.” Perth’s cultural isolation at the time is represented through the music selection but also through frequent references to the NBA – positioning it closer to Los Angeles than Melbourne or Sydney.
90s nostalgia has never been so ripe as it is today. With the renewed interest in the decade, it’s interesting to note that, structurally, Bassendream shares similarities with Australian films produced during that era. Notable examples that employ narrative arcs over the course of 24 hours include Emma-Kate Croghan’s 1996 film Love and Other Catastrophes, which occurs during one day at Melbourne University and involves a love triangle between three students; Ana Kokkinos’ Head-On (1998) follows Ari (Alex Dimitriades), whose sexual identity is confronted over the course of one day; and Rowan Woods’ The Boys (1998), about a recently paroled man Brett Sprague (David Wenham) who can’t escape the company of his brothers, also partially unravels over one day.
Together these films comprise a generation of low-budget Australian films set over 24-hours. When I ask Barretto about these parallels, he brings it back to logistics. Put simply, Barretto believes that “boundaries help. You know you're going to exist in this small amount of time [and] that helps from a writing perspective.” Furthermore, Barretto emphasises that “continuity becomes less of a problem in terms of what people plan, which gives you ultimately more freedom in the edit to restructure the movie.” Shinead Ruby’s costume designs in Bassendream also add realism to the era as Billabong shirts, tank tops and black and white Converse skate shoes are seen throughout.
This attention to detail stems from Barretto’s embracement of the suburb’s quirks and oddities. Frequently, there are extreme long shots and sprawling shots of football yards (including the Bassendean football oval featured at the start), of nature reserves and the divisive river. The psychogeography of the suburb serves to heighten the characters’ frustrations, motivations and flaws. Overworked housewife Fran becomes stressed when the boom gates hold her up for minutes on end; Jackson and Sam must cautiously traipse the muddy river to crash Bill’s party – only to both agree not to do it again. This sense of awareness about the suburb’s geography lends the film a lived-in feeling that, as Barretto comments, lacks in more contemporary films’ portrayals of the 90s. Barretto felt it was important to understand “not how much can we shut out [but] how do we bring more world [in]?”, further clarifying that “there's nothing CGI’d in the film [and] there's no post work”.
This dedication to authenticity and specificity, delivered through the setting, the myriad of characters and the film’s production techniques, is underlined by the screenplay’s humanism, which enriches Bassendean’s idiosyncrasies, providing us with a fascinating snapshot of a past Australia when life seemed simpler.