Michael Leunig is Australia's Picasso; original, prolific and soulful as an artist, as a philosopher he seems to be the conscience of a nation. Most of us will be familiar with his sparse, quivering line drawings of little characters; big nosed and naked, childlike fallen angels, either lost in oppressive urban environments or enjoying the natural world. For 50 years his gorgeous images have been in our newspapers (especially in Sydney & Melbourne), on our fridges, calendars, coffee mugs, tea shirts and greeting cards; humble humans with guileless dogs, direction finding ducks and teapots.
Since the early 1970s, the Whitlam era, Leunig invented and is the sole occupant of a new genre of cartooning and has grown to be an enduring hero of compassionate Australians, championing the underdog and the marginalized; opposing war and challenging bullying of all kinds.
His style is simple and naïve, but richly expressive of his principles and belief in a more humane world. One commentator says that Leunig has weaponised whimsy. Leunig is a passionate and compassionate lover of nature and humanity whose principled stands have occasionally resulted in massive controversy.
Poignant, inventive, nostalgic, organic and artful in ways befitting its subject, this film shares intimate and exclusive access to Leunig the certified National Living Treasure in his studio particularly, with his pens, brushes, cups of tea, candles and his music. But we also accompany him venturing into the world to speak and to collaborate.
Leunig also reflects on the experiences of his early life and for this he and film maker Kasimir Burgess have created hauntingly beautiful re-enactments. These, along with a vast range of media are woven together to create a groundbreaking documentary and sublimely fascinating portrait. The film helps us understand the creative force behind the huge body work; a thoughtful and complex, private and softly spoken, often solitary character with surprisingly broken relationships to his family. But he is beloved of his friends, among whom he counts Phillip Adams, Neil Finn, Richard Tognetti, Katie Noonan, Indigenous artists especially of Lockhart River on Cape York, and the late humorist, John Clarke.
But despite the flood of naked truth we are given, Leunig the man remains an enigma at the end of The Leunig Fragments, surely sending us back to explore the drawings, poems, paintings, books and newspaper columns that will be his legacy. For those interested in art and creativity or the evolution of Australian society over the last 50 years, you will luxuriate in The Leunig Fragments. It is a brilliant exploration of one of the most important Australians of this time, and it is frankly depressing to think of this country without Michael Leunig's contribution. This new feature film, The Leunig Fragments, is a marvelous gift and a multifaceted diamond of cinema.
