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Looking for Neanderthal Man, Finding a Captive White Woman: The Story of a Documentary Film *

Geoffrey Gray


In 1928 the Australian racial psychologist Stanley David Porteus went to northwest Western Australia and central Australia to conduct psychological and psychophysical studies of sample Aboriginal groups. Porteus was accompanied by Paul Withington, a Honolulu surgeon and explorer, and two cinematographers. Withington, presenting the façade of a serious investigator searching for evidence of Neanderthal Man, told A.O. Neville, chief protector of Aborigines in Western Australia, that he was also making a film about Aboriginal life for educational purposes. After leaving Australia, Neville became increasingly concerned about this film. His queries to Porteus were met with uncertainty, and he received only silence from Withington. When the film was finally released, its representation of Aboriginal life was grossly distorted. This had far-reaching consequences for future researchers in Western Australia.


Between 1932 and the early 1950s the Commonwealth Film Censor produced a list of films deemed unsuitable for viewing by Australian Aborigines and 'natives' in the Australian controlled territories of Papua and New Guinea; among those listed was a film provocatively titled The Blonde Captive. 1 It was in the company of titles such as Tarzan's Secret Treasure, South Seas Sinners, Travelling Husbands, and Bed and Breakfast. It is unclear from these titles what was deemed unsuitable for viewing by Indigenous audiences. We perhaps can obtain a clue from the proceedings of the 1928 Royal Commission Into the Moving Picture Industry in Australia, where it was declared that 'the cinematograph picture' was generally regarded by white people as a form of entertainment, while 'with native races the same equanimity is not preserved.' 2 The protector of Aborigines in the Northern Territory, Dr. Cecil Cook, was concerned that films had been passed as suitable in which scenes were portrayed or a 'story told likely to influence the aboriginal towards conflict with the white race,' which provides a further consideration. In the United States of America a film such as The Blonde Captive 'could do [what] domestically set films could not: hint at sexual liaisons—some willing, some forced—between blacks and whites.' 3 Whether these matters were a concern for Australian film censors is unknown but it would seem that a film such as The Blonde Captive could unsettle both an Indigenous audience, as it could a non-Indigenous audience of the time. 1
      Films considered suitable for an Indigenous audience had to show events which could be construed as enabling the uplift of Indigenous peoples, as it was generally believed that 'the effects of cinematography on the minds of primitive people, such as the aboriginals of Australia and New Guinea, …[were] on the whole detrimental.' 4 There was no consideration of what films would entertain an Indigenous audience although in 1936 an article appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald which told a story about 'two men who own two of the most unusual picture shows,' one in Darwin and one in Broome. They discovered that aborigines flock to see western pictures starring actors such as George O'Brien, Buck Jones, and Tom Mix.' But the pictures most appreciated by whites, they declared, weren't very popular with 'coloured audiences.' 5
  
      The Blonde Captive differed from the other films censored in a significant way. It was made ostensibly as an ethnographic documentary film using footage taken primarily in northwest Western Australia by a scientific expedition led by the Australian-born racial psychologist Stanley David Porteus. It had never been intended for viewing by an Indigenous audience, as were most documentary and educational films about Indigenous people—they were, after all, the subjects of the film! 6 In fact, The Blonde Captive started out as an educational film, with captions, aimed at an audience interested in the history of humankind as represented by 'primitive and backward peoples.' In the hands of the producers, however, it turned into a tasteless drama featuring the abduction of a white women by a group of aboriginals. The producers had been dishonest in their intentions and had found in both scientists who accompanied them unwitting accomplices. 2
      The film never entered Australia. It was not the content of the film which led to its banning, although it is almost inconceivable that the censor would have happily accepted a scenario, for either an Indigenous or a non-Indigenous audience, in which a captive white women made the decision to stay with her primitive husband rather than return to civilisation. 7 Instead, the banning had more do with political considerations, especially those of the Western Australian government represented by the chief protector of Aborigines, A.O. Neville, who instigated the action which led to its banning. What was so offensive to Neville that he made such an effort to ban the film from entering Australia? The answer is complex: it was not only political embarrassment but it also had to do with the exercise of control over the representation of Aboriginal people and the way in which Neville attempted to maintain that control. The expedition, led by Porteus, was to conduct psychological tests of Aboriginal people which Neville considered to be a worthwhile scientific enterprise. The taking of photographs, both still and moving, was to complement the research and not to be shown commercially or publicly without the express permission of the Western Australian government.   
      This paper discusses the various commentaries that accompanied the making and showing of the film (of course the latter not in Australia). Besides the banning of the film itself, there were other unexpected consequences, such as the tightening of regulations governing scientific research and an increasing scepticism on the part of Neville about the value of anthropological research in general. However, to better understand the context of the expedition, the film, and its subsequent banning, this article explains both the development of modern anthropology in Australia and the significance of S.D. Porteus.   
   

Problematising the 'Native'

  
In July 1926 the British anthropologist, A.R. Radcliffe-Brown, arrived in Sydney to take up the position of Foundation Professor of Anthropology at the University of Sydney. There began a new anthropology in Australia, one based on intensive field work and on the theoretical paradigm of functionalism promoted and developed by both Radcliffe-Brown and Bronislaw Malinowski. It rejected historical reconstruction and memory cultures as well as eliding the effects of colonial rule. It had, as its primary interest, an imagined pure type of culture—what is commonly referred to as 'traditional'—untouched by the deleterious effects of colonialism and located in northern and central Australia. Australian anthropology under Radcliffe-Brown shifted its interest from collecting artefacts, skeletal remains, and stone tools, and measuring and describing the physical body (including skin colour, hair type, and the like), to an interest in social phenomena such as kinship and social organisation. Significantly, anthropology was presented as a scientific investigation of 'native mental and moral characteristics, of native law and custom, of native history, language and traditions. Native methods of agriculture, native arts and crafts, should be examined scientifically before any attempt is made to supersede what we find existing. Herein lies the importance of anthropological work, an importance which is difficult to over-estimate.' 8 3
     The funding of both the new department and research was provided by the American philanthropic Rockefeller Foundation. The funds for research were distributed through the Australian National Research Council (ANRC), which supported 'the endowment of systematic scientific research in the Pacific Islands under Australian Control'; the Foundation Professor of Anthropology headed a committee which recommended those projects and researchers deemed worthy of funding. 9 The committee's membership consisted of representatives of the states, including representatives of state universities. The remnants of the old anthropological interests—anthropometry, origins, physical anthropology, and the like—and some of the newer scholarly interests such as racial psychology, social anthropology, and linguistics, were funded. The idea of the Native and questions about how the Native thought (issues related to the so-called primitive mind) were always at the forefront of an anthropology developed to assist colonial governments in the governance of their colonised populations. This interest in problematising the Native was accompanied by an interest in collecting as much information on the fast-disappearing Aborigines. 10 The interest of researchers as well as the Foundation Professor was on northern Australia where it was still possible, so the argument went, to find Aboriginal people living a life virtually untouched by white settlement or where it was still possible to find old men who were fully initiated and could remember the old days, before the arrival of the white man. 11 4
      Radcliffe-Brown was eager to have his researchers record as much as possible of Aboriginal life before it was too late, before Aboriginal people were either culturally and socially so dispossessed and disrupted or had became physically extinct. Between 1927 and 1928 he sent out a number of anthropological workers to the Northern Territory, northwest Western Australia, and north Queensland. He sent W. Lloyd Warner, an American anthropologist, to Arnhem Land; the zoologist–anthropologist Donald Thomson to Cape York Peninsula, where Ursula McConnel had already started work; and A.P. Elkin to northwest Western Australia, where he started work in late 1927. A.O. Neville, the chief protector of Aborigines and a member of the Committee for Anthropology, took a professional as well as personal interest in Elkin's work and assisted him in his preparation for the field. The research program in Western Australia benefited from the collaborative relationship developed between Elkin and Neville and thus enabled the Western Australian authorities to feel comfortable about the presence of scientific investigators. Such relationships were critical for the continuance of anthropological research in states such as Western Australia. 5
      In early 1928, Radcliffe-Brown invited the Australian-born racial psychologist S.D. Porteus to undertake research into native psychology in Australia. With the Australian anatomist and physical anthropologist Frederick Wood Jones, also at the University of Hawai'i, Porteus devised a series of tests to be used in his 'psychological and psycho-physical studies of sample groups of the aboriginal population.' 12 Porteus was born in Melbourne; after graduation he had served as the Schools' superintendent of special schools. During his time as superintendent, he established a clinic for children with psychological problems where he devised new tests to establish the subject's initiative and purpose. The most well known of these, the Porteus Maze Test, a nonverbal intelligence test, is still in use today. In 1922 Porteus founded the Psychological and Psychopathic Clinic at the University of Hawai'i. Porteus was also interested in theories of racial equalities or difference, race/racial consciousness, the relative progress of the races, and other matters relating to the evaluation of racial mental capacity, often emphasising the difference in mental capacity between the races. 13 6
      Elkin, who had been asked by Radcliffe-Brown to look out for future research sites in northwest Western Australia, recommended that 'it would be better for [Porteus] to prosecute his researches in the district known as the Dampier Peninsula. … From Beagle Bay it is possible to visit Sunday Island and other islands in the vicinity, and there are three missions within the area referred to … Beagle Bay, Lombadina and Sunday Island.' 14 Aware of the difficulties of travel and the limited time available to him, Radcliffe-Brown suggested that Porteus concentrate on central Australia, particularly the Alice Springs area, which would also enable him to be in contact with members of the University of Adelaide Board for Anthropological Research. Porteus intended meeting up and possibly working with scientists in Adelaide interested in 'research in comparative racial psychology … [among] Aborigines.' 15 Members of the Board went out each year, often more than once, to parts of central South Australia as part of their investigations. 16 Most of these expeditions were of short duration due in part to the intensity of the work and its effect on Aboriginal people. J.B. Cleland, professor of pathology at the University of Adelaide and chairman of the Board for Anthropological Research, explained to Clark Wissler, curator of ethnology at the Smithonsian Museum, that although

these short expeditions are expensive they unquestionably pay as regards getting results. We are able to take specialists with us who otherwise could not spare the time for an expedition lasting months. Natives were concentrated for us by a patrol sent out some months ahead. Concentrated investigation is centred on them during the period of our stay. We found that after about a fortnight the natives begin to weary in spite of being well fed; their natural inclination to roam begins to assert itself, and probably it would be difficult to hold them for investigation for any period longer than a month. If the expedition were to stay longer in the field it would have to peregrinate round, spending a few weeks at one spot, and then another short period of some time in some other locality. This of course would mean increased expenses. … We feel that we now know the native of Central Australia fairly fully. We have seen the country that he roams over and we know the necessities of his life. 17

7
From central Australia Porteus anticipated that he could proceed to northwest Western Australia. 18 Radcliffe-Brown advised him to do so, and from there to travel back to Adelaide to meet up with some of the Board members. It was at Broome where he met up with Paul Withington, an American surgeon based in Honolulu; Ralph King, an American cinematographer; and another photographer named Richards. Withington, Porteus explained in the preface to The Psychology of a Primitive People, acted as medical officer to the expedition. 19 From Broome they travelled to La Grange Bay, Beagle Bay, Cape Leveque, Lombandina, Fitzroy River Crossing, Moola Boola, Violet Valley, Wyndham, and back to Broome. 20 Porteus was accompanied by an assistant, Clinton S. Childs, who had 'done extensive social service work among various races,' and also provided 'valuable assistance in taking anthropometric measurements' and assisting with the administration of the various psychological tests. 21 On their return to Broome, Withington and the others continued their journey, planning to travel by truck across the continent to Brisbane and then on to Sydney. Porteus and Childs went south to Perth on the government lugger Koolinda and then, by transcontinental train, to Adelaide. 22   
   

Relations with government

  
      In Western Australia there was a highly elaborate set of regulations controlling the production and circulation of images of Aboriginal people. All images were to be vetted by Neville and publication of images for commercial or general distribution was prohibited. The use of still or moving pictures to illustrate scientific research was permitted but this too required Neville's authorisation on condition that all images were deposited with the Western Australian administration, which would use the images as they saw fit. These regulations were derived, revised, and authorised through a conjunction of moral, scientific, and administrative discourses. Moral discourses inevitably used the figure of the white woman, the unseen moral guardian, to countenance prohibition of what could be shown and said in the press as well as in government and scientific reports. This prohibition clearly played a crucial role in hiding certain conditions, particularly sexual relations between white men and Aboriginal women, and the impact of sexually transmitted diseases in Aboriginal communities. Scientists were further encouraged to present Aboriginal people in 'their natural state' as evidence of their primitivity and simplicity. 23 8
      It was not only in Western Australia that there were restrictions on the filming of Indigenous people and white people interacting. The same sorts of restraints applied in Australia's external territories. The film maker Frank Hurley complained to the 1928 Royal Commission into the Moving Picture not about the effects his films might have on Indigenous audiences but rather that he was not permitted to include them in his films:

I wish to make comment here upon the attitude of the Department of External affairs and the Papuan administration toward film production. I was denied permission to Papua for the purpose of producing the film, The Jungle Woman. I understand that there is some kind of ordinance in existence in Papua which will not permit Papuan natives to take part in the motion picture drama with whites. In no other country in the Empire does such a ridiculous condition of affairs exist. 24

His last comment, I suspect, was an exaggeration. But it demonstrates the way governments attempted to control the representation of Indigenous life, and the interaction between Indigenous people and white women, in particular.

9
      Before Withington left Perth for Broome he assured Neville that 'any photographs or [cinematograph] films taken would be purely for scientific purposes, and they had no intention of commercialising their results in any way.' 25 The films were for the 'express purpose of assisting Dr. Porteus in his study of the Aboriginals' and he agreed to 'submit all pictures taken on government stations to the chief protector … and to see that they are used only in such manner as the Department may deem fit.' 26 The photographer, although a Fox Film representative, was engaged by Withington and was entirely under his control and had no right to any of the productions, he assured Neville. Further, Withington was prepared to submit to any terms Neville 'might impose if at any time the material which they obtained was considered sufficiently useful to be used for commercial purposes, though at present they had no intention of making money out of the business.' He wished only to recoup expenses which could be done by 'exhibiting the subjects before purely scientific bodies.' 27 10

      Neville advised the ministerial undersecretary that he had discussed the matter of taking cinematographic and still photographs with the minister (W.H. Kitson) and had recommended that he approve Withington and Porteus being granted permission to

take photographs, both motion and still, on native reserves, stations and settlements subject to the following conditions:

1. That a positive of all negatives taken be deposited with the Chief Protector of Aborigines who may make such use of such positives as he may desire.

2. The only pictures to be taken to be those directed either by Dr. Porteus or Dr. Withington.

3. No other members of the expedition to be permitted to take photographs for his own use or any other purpose except as directed by his employers, viz. – Dr. Porteus and Dr. Withington.

4. All pictures taken are to be used for scientific purposes, but the Chief Protector of Aborigines may vary this direction at his discretion.

5. The commercialisation of photographs or motion pictures, that is to say their exhibition for money making purposes, is prohibited except with the permission of the Chief Protector of Aborigines.

6. If the commercialisation of all or any of the pictures is permitted by the Chief Protector of Aborigines Drs. Porteus and Withington will then agree to any conditions which may be stipulated by the Chief Protector.

7. The photographing of figures in the nude is prohibited. Native subjects, however, may be photographed when clothed in accordance with tribal custom. 28

  
It was a restrictive arrangement, clear in its intent and, thought Neville, legally binding. Although Porteus was nominally the leader of the group, the photographs and cinematography was in fact an arrangement between Withington and King, who were funded by an American film company and were not party to any such agreements entered into by Withington or Porteus. The arrangements between Withington, King, and the film company are unknown to us but it is certain Withington did not fully inform Neville about them. It seems also that he did not declare these interests to Porteus either. 29 In his autobiography Porteus recalled, however, that an agreement was made whereby Withington and his financial backers could make a movie for commercial purposes but that the agreement was 'honoured more in its breach than its observance.' 30 11
      The officer in charge of the La Grange feeding station, John Spurling, was also enlisted to help Porteus. This was consistent with the support provided by government for all scientific research workers. Spurling wrote to Neville that he had tried to get Porteus to La Grange to witness an initiation ceremony,

as he would never get another opportunity, probably for some time again to see a tribal Ceremony and natives from everywhere. Just on about two hundred natives here. … Very rare, so many natives come together for this Ceremony. Just the class of native he wanted to see. And also, he would have seen perhaps [what] he has never witnessed before. A Tribal Ceremony and the operation, afterwards on two young boys. Making men of them.

(He added that an influenza epidemic had struck the 'Wallal natives … at Anna Plains and nearly all went down to it at La Grange.') 31 Unfortunately Porteus was unable to avail himself of Spurling's advice. 		12
      Although the research had the support of Neville, and he had ensured that the mission stations, government reserves, and other individuals did all they could to help the researcher, there was always a possibility of misunderstanding if not conflict between the researcher and the staff. On 5 July 1929, John Healy of the Apostolic Mission Broome sent a telegram informing Neville that 'moving pictures' were being taken of 'Beagle Bay Mission Black women and men dancing almost completely naked … [in] broad daylight.' 32 He was most unhappy with this turn of events. Withington explained to Neville the problems at Beagle Bay as a misunderstanding, the 'only one encountered' on the whole trip.' 33 The film taken at Beagle Bay Mission, nevertheless, was 'eliminated entirely'; Porteus apologised to Neville for causing such trouble. 34 Of course, we have no evidence that Withington did eliminate the shots taken at Beagle Bay. 13
      Various ceremonies, 'corroborees,' were frequently arranged by the overseer or manager of the station, so that the researchers would not be unhappy. It was in the interests of science. Withington, for example, filmed a corroboree at Moola Bulla, a government reserve, which was arranged by the manager, Jack Woodland. 35 Porteus wrote that at Wyndham, Withington and his two cameramen fitted out a lugger and made an 'adventurous voyage, calling at Mr. Collier's mission station at Sunday Island, Mr. Reid's station at Munja, Mr. Love's mission station at Port George IV and Mr. Gribble's mission at Forrest River.' 36 Withington, however, told Neville that, despite their obvious success, they encountered difficulties in obtaining photographs of corroborees as most of the men were engaged in stock work. 37  
      But Withington was not only interested in searching for evidence of Neanderthal Man; in an attempt to ingratiate himself with Neville he provided unsolicited reports, sometimes critical, on the state of Aboriginal people living on mission stations and reserves. They were presented in the guise of scientific medical reports which he wanted kept 'strictly confidential.' He commented, for example, that there was a 'tremendous need for more medical work … If the race is to be saved.' Under 'present conditions' he considered the possibility of survival as 'extremely doubtful.' With little empirical evidence he declared that 'sexual diseases have made tremendous inroads on the fertility of the people.' For the trend to be halted, what was required was 'a definite programme for combating the present epidemics. Syphilis, gonorrhoea, particularly must be fought. Leprosy is present but is less of a danger to the race than the distinctly white man's diseases.' He offered a radical solution: he reckoned that under the 'present paternalistic plan' not much could be accomplished; 'the only hope for the Blacks in Australia, is for them to be given complete rights and responsibilities of "Citizenship." In this way only can he be expected to develop under the condition, which he now faces.' 38 Neville, always prickly over criticism of his department and Aboriginal policy under his guidance, dismissed Withington's observations as the results of a 'purely superficial visit,' although he did concede that Withington had 'spotted the weaknesses of the various institutions visited.' 39 14
      In the same letter Withington addressed the agreement he had with Neville; besides pictures of distinctly Aboriginal life he took many hundreds of feet of life in the northwest: 'we began by taking pictures from the air on the trip from Perth to Broome. … It was my original purpose to send you for the use of the Government, a print of these pictures,' which included bird and animal life, station life, and the meat works at Wyndham, 'as well as of the distinctly Aboriginal part. However the added expense of the Lugger trip, plus very heavy expenses due to my illness' (he 'ran a piece of wire deep into his finger' and developed a 'raging streptococcus infection'), and the delay of at least two or three months in 'getting back to work is going to cripple my finances for the present. As I agreed I shall send you as soon as I am able a positive of all the negatives.' Another factor, he explained, was that the cost of developing and printing the film was prohibitive in Australia; this meant that it had to be done in Honolulu, where it was cheaper and more convenient. The commercial use of the photographs was still unclear but he would advise Neville once this had been decided. 40 Neville was sympathetic to the problem of the cost of developing but nonetheless, responded merely with: 'I dare say their value and subsequent use that you will be able to make of them will fully compensate you for the initial cost.' 41 15
   

Making a documentary?

 16
Porteus was alert to the potential misuse of the film and recognised that once it was outside Australia it was outside any control that Neville might care to exercise. To help alleviate that problem, and as an act of good faith, Porteus offered to act as Neville's representative 'in inspecting the films.' He would ensure that 'the film will contain nothing that would in any way reflect upon the handling of the natives in Western Australia. … I believe you could rely on me to censor the film fairly.' 42 17
      Nearly twelve months later, in September 1930, in response to an inquiry from Neville, Porteus outlined what had occurred and his failure to censor the film in any way. He told Neville that 'after the film had been developed the group of men who gave Dr. Withington the financial backing to obtain the picture asked me if I would assist in making it into an educational film for use in visual education programs in schools and colleges.' He therefore wrote the explanatory captions for the photographs but it was decided that a 'silent film was unsaleable and must be made into a talking picture.' Up to then, Porteus had no financial interest; but after it was decided to make it into a 'talking film,' he bought a one twentieth share in the enterprise. To guard against misrepresentation, he agreed to 'write a lecture and deliver it in connection with the showing of the film, the whole to be synchronized as a talking picture.' The film was to be exhibited through a company associated with the American Museum of Natural History but it was in fact sold to 'one of the larger concerns.' It was at this point that Porteus realised that he would not be able to control any aspect of the film, and asked the film makers that 'all reference to [him] be eliminated from the title.' When he last saw the film in May 1930, it contained 'absolutely nothing objectionable in it,' but now, he told Neville, he was not so sure: he was increasingly concerned about the future of the film and explained that the total expense amounted to $US25,000 and he was not 'in company with [Withington] when most of the picture was taken.' He again emphasised that he did not think 'anything objectionable could be imported into the film.' 43 18
      It was now clear to Neville that Withington had breached their agreement. It was apparent to Neville that the 'chief object' was the commercialisation of the enterprise. Neville told Porteus that he could hardly believe that a man of Withington's standing could 'violate … his agreement with the Government of this State.' 44 It only got worse. In December 1931, Porteus wrote to Neville that he 'had just received the news that a faked scene had been added to the picture purporting to show a white woman captured from a wreck and held captive by the blacks. This scene had been added by King … who after previous plans had fallen through proceeded with the sounding of the film without reference to either Withington or myself.' Porteus considered the matter so serious that he travelled to New York presenting himself as the 'representative of the Western Australia Government in the matter of the supervision of the film.' He told Neville he did this 'not only on account of my responsibility to you but also on my own account as it will do me considerable harm to have my name associated in any way with an unauthentic picture.' 45  
      Soon after receiving this information from Porteus, Neville was directed to the December 1930 issue of the American magazine Photoplay which suggested the ANRC had sponsored the film, at this stage called Found . He asked if Radcliffe-Brown knew of this, adding that he was sure, once aware of the details, that the ANRC 'may regret' having sponsored the film, 'if indeed they had done so.' 46 Radcliffe-Brown had no knowledge of the film. 47 After Neville's letter, the ANRC became concerned. In response to a query from the ANRC, Porteus advised that it take steps to have the film barred from exhibition in Australia. 48 This did not of course guarantee the removal of the statement that the film had been sponsored by the ANRC; it only offered the possibility, should they be asked what steps had been taken to protect the reputation of the ANRC, that it had sought the removal of the reference to the ANRC, should the film be shown in Australia. 49 The ANRC, however, like Neville, was powerless to intervene.  
      By the end of January 1931, Porteus realised that he had lost all control over the film. He informed Neville that the picture has been 'disposed of to a company in New York and that they are re-sounding and re-arranging the whole material into a picture that will probably be released next month.' 50 In February the following year it was reported in the West Australian that a film was viewed in New York 'showing the scenery and aboriginal life of the North-West of Western Australia and including an incident of a fair haired girl captive held by the blacks.' 51  

 
 
Figure 1
    Image 1: The movie poster for The Blonde Captive. (Courtesy American Wide Screen Museum.)
 

 
   

The film makes its debut

  
The film, now called the The Blonde Captive, was released officially on 2 March 1932 and screened in New York at the Liberty Theatre. The poster carried the information that it was 'a story of a white woman lost among the oldest living race.' The owner and distributor, William M. Pizor, 52 circulated a cablegram from Withington: 'I hereby certify that [this] story of [a] shipwrecked white woman rescued or adopted by blacks is based on facts. Its setting was in Arnhem Land and the white woman was a survivor of the wreck of the Douglas Mawson.' 53 The Douglas Mawson disappeared in a cyclone whilst on her regular run to Cairns after leaving Burketown on 26 March 1923. Far from disapproving of the fake scene, as Porteus reported to Neville, Withington in fact approved of its inclusion even so far as vouching for its authenticity. He added that the finding of the white woman was 'a climax to his ten thousand mile expedition in search of a living replica of the bust of the Neanderthal man of 50,000 years ago.'   19

      The New York–based Daily News carried a story headed 'Blonde Captive' which revealed a different role and motive for Withington than that alluded to by Porteus:

An enthusiastic public but critical reception was accorded today to the film "Blonde Captive", an unusually entertaining, educational and pictorial record of Dr. Paul Withington's expedition in Northern Australia in quest of descendants of Neanderthal man. The film shows colorful scenes of Sydney harbour, the journey to Melbourne, Adelaide and Broome, and then goes on into the bush country, where there appear some of De Rougemont's giant turtles digging into the sand and laying eggs. The expedition is shown finding a strange type of pure aborigines visited for the first time by a white man. Many savage customs are illustrated, such as men slashing their skin and filling the wounds with clay. The end of the film shows a supposed white woman, reputed to be the widow of Capt. Stevenson whose pearler husband was wrecked. The scene is unconvincing. The tribe is supposed to have rescued her, made her marry an aborigine chief, and she had a son by him. This is hardly believable despite a cable message from Dr. Withington certifying its authenticity.

 
The New York Times film critic Mordaunt Hall described the improbable ending of the film:

When the members of the expedition offered to take her away with them she preferred her cave home with her aboriginal spouse and her son to taking any chances with white people in civilised sections of the globe. So the last scene of her is standing by her apparently good natured husband's side waving farewell to the explorers. She, one surmises, has nothing to worry about, for even when the time comes for her Neanderthal husband to knock out their son's most prominent front teeth she realizes that when in Rome, or Northern Australia, one must do as the Romans, or the brownies, do. 54

 20
The newspaper reports were sufficient for Neville to write again to Porteus who seemed unaware of these developments. 55 By the end of the month he knew differently. Porteus and the ANRC were mentioned at the beginning of the film but 'thereafter the expedition is referred to as Dr. Withington's.' He protested again to the producer and to Lowell Thomas who provided the commentary. Lowell Thomas, explorer and commentator, had by the time he narrated the film made a reputation for himself especially through his interviews with the infamous Lawrence of Arabia. His name gave the film a credibility which otherwise may have been lacking.Porteus told Neville that he hoped his own 'disavowal of the project' in his book, The Psychology of a Primitive People (1931), would help. 56 21
      Reports of a captive white woman sparked an interest by the Commonwealth Investigation Branch (the attorney general's department). They asked for a report from the Western Australian government. Once they realised that the film was a fiction the matter was not pursued although it was recommended that the film not be shown in Australia. Subsequently the film was rejected by the Australian Film Censor. The attorney general's department advised Neville of this decision adding that its showing had been restricted to America and Canada and that the 'picture had failed to make an appeal.' 57 22
      Neville, always sceptical about the value of anthropology, supported the ethnographic enterprise which was embodied by Elkin and to a lesser extent by Porteus and Withington. Elkin did not disappoint him. However, he was disappointed in Withington and to a lesser degree with Porteus. Porteus had attempted to honour his agreement but Withington treated him with disdain. Neville may have obtained some comfort from the decision of the censor but he was reluctant thereafter of trusting the word of anthropologists and others who wished to photograph Aboriginal people. As a consequence, the Western Australian government thereafter required that a cash bond be put up, or a personal guarantee of an Australian resident, if any photographs were to be taken of Aboriginal people. Aboriginal people still had no say about how they were photographed. 23
      Perhaps the last word on the film should be left to Porteus. In 1969 when Porteus published his autobiography, he recalled the events that led up to the making of the film. He wrote that it was an event which had caused him 'so much concern,' and noted that his 'objection was that Hollywood insisted on an ending of the story that was completely unauthentic.' Nevertheless, he considered it an excellent film as a pictorial record of the everyday life of the Aborigines, 'except that Hollywood dubbed in a phoney episode to give it some "sex appeal."' He continued:

The script editors had us discovering a mythical white woman, sole survivor of a vessel wrecked on the coast, captured by aborigines and living with her half-caste children and aboriginal chief so happily that she turned down our offer to return with us to civilization. The movie people undressed a white girl and dressed up a coloured man and photographed them in some caves in California to complete the story. Strangely enough, this was the only episode that was objected to by critics as fictitious. When the picture was exhibited under the title The Captive Blonde [sic], it received otherwise excellent reviews. The local financial supporters made no profit, even though the movie was credited with grossing several million dollars. But that, as Kipling was wont to remark, is another story, and a rather sad one at that. The only lesson I learned was not to put my trust in moving pictures with regard to truthful narration. 58

24
   

Conclusion

  
After he had completed his work in Australia, Porteus went to South Africa on a Carnegie Foundation grant. There, he studied the problem of racial differences in more primitive settings. He conducted his maze tests among 'the Bushmen' and found their performance to be consistently inferior to that of Australian Aboriginals. Porteus also tested groups of uneducated Africans at a mine-labour recruitment compound in Johannesburg using the Leiter Performance Scale. The results showed them about 'equal to eleven-year-old Chinese and Japanese youths.' 59 He used his experience in Australia and South Africa 'as a platform to attack race-levellers … whose "cunning" use of language was to mislead the public into thinking that "not proven" means there are no race difference[s] in mentality.' 60 33
      Porteus' Australian work, once published, received poor reviews from Radcliffe-Brown and Elkin. 61 Radcliffe-Brown was 'extremely disappointed' in the book produced by Porteus and he acknowledged that he had made a 'mistake of judgment' in inviting him to Australia. The total scientific result of Porteus' book was very small indeed. 62 Elkin wrote a critical review of Porteus' book, Psychology of a Primitive People, and advised the ANRC that 'I, personally, could not recommend that a field worker should be sent out to do Psychology, for I do not think that the expenses involved in Professor Porteus' expedition … were justified.' 63 Elkin, once appointed as chair of the committee on anthropology, did not support further psychological research. Racial characterisations and innate racial qualities were not abandoned by the committee but they were not the focal point of its future plans. 34
   

Postscript

  
There are no copies of the original The Blonde Captive ; however, for its relatively recent showing at the XXXI Mostra Internazionale del Cinema Libero (Il Cinema Ritrovato ) in June–July 2002, Bologna, Italy, it was restored from a nitrate dupe negative. 64 Unfortunately I have been unable to locate a copy of the restoration in Australia. In discussing the film in Bologna, Jean Marie Buchet of the Cinémathèque Royale de Belgique noted, 'This new print contains two sequences which are missing from the copy viewed by the curator of the American Film Institute Catalog.' 65 It was described in the festival's catalogue in the following way:

Lowell Thomas, Paul Withington, of Harvard University, and Clifton Childs, an archaeologist, gather to recount their trip to Australia. Using information from Professor Henry Fairfield Osborn's book Men of the Old Stone Age, Thomas gives an account of how archaeologists have come to believe that skeletons found in caves around the world are from Middle Palaeolithic man. The purpose of the expedition is to determine if any remnant of Neanderthal man exists today. 66

46

The catalogue further declares that the origins of the film deserve a study in themselves, adding that it will be

probably never known to whom the overall ideation of this extremely composite film should be attributed, in which a number of extraordinary documents are placed right next to absolutely unreliable sequences as if nothing were the matter. It remains, however, a sincere testimonial, which is even more precious today as the world it focuses on has completely deteriorated.

This description of the film, its place in history and what it represents, is contrast to the information I have obtained in my research.
       The catalogue makes several mistakes in identifying various people associated with the making of the film. It declares that,

in 1929, Paul Withington, anthropology professor at Harvard, and Clifford Childs, Australian archaeologist, organized an expedition to the Australian Aboriginal territories. … The material was then submitted to William Pizor, an independent producer/distributor and director of the Imperial Distributing Corp, who had distributed several Z series westerns, but specialized, with the aid of editor Nathan C. Braunstein, in production of feature length documentaries.

The information about Pizor is correct but Childs is confused with the Australian archaeologist Gordon Childe; Withington, at the time of the expedition was at the University of Hawai'i and he was never a professor of anthropology. And the idea of the Australian Aborginal territories is intriguing. It seems that the use of the film continues to misrepresent the reality of its making, and then becomes a site of nostalgia for a lost world. The film remains an artefact of the past.

Australian Institute for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies


Notes

* A version of this paper was presented to the Australian History Association Conference, Newcastle, July 2004.

1. A431/1, 49/2256, National Archives of Australia, Canberra (hereafter NAA). From 1932 through to the early 1950s the Censorship Board regularly published lists and notifications of 'films suitable and unsuitable for Native Races.'

2. Marion Benjamin, "Dangerous visions: 'Films suitable and unsuitable for native races,'" in Screening the Past: Aspects of Early Australian Film , edited by Ken Berryman (Canberra: National Film and Sound Archive, 1995), 143.

3. Steven J. Ross, "The Seen, the Unseen, and the Obscene: Pre-Code Hollywood," review of Pre-Code Hollywood: Sex, Immorality, and Insurrection in American Cinema, by Thomas Doherty Reviews in American History 28 (2000): 274.

4. Benjamin, 142. See also Marcia Langton, Well, I Heard it on the Radio and I Saw it on the Television …: An Essay For the Australian Film Commission on the Politics and Aesthetics of Filmmaking By and About Aboriginal People and Things (North Sydney: Australian Film Commission, 1993), for a discussion on Aboriginal responses to film.

5. Benjamin, 147.

6. When Marcia Langton wrote her book on Indigenous film it was estimated that some 6000 films had been made about Australia's Indigenous peoples (Langton, 24).

7. For further discussion about captive white women see, for example, Kate Darian-Smith, "'Rescuing' Barbara Thomson and Other White Women: Captivity Narratives on Australian Frontiers, in Text, Theory, Space. Land, Literature and History in South Africa and Australia, edited by Kate Darian-Smith (London: Routledge, 1996), 99–114.

8. H. Ian Hogbin, Sydney Morning Herald, 17 September 1932, press clipping, Hogbin Papers, University of Sydney Archives.

9. Ibid.

10. Stewart Firth, "Colonial Administration and the Invention of the Native," in The Cambridge History of the Pacific Islanders, edited by Donald Denoon et al. (Melbourne: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 262.

11. I have elsewhere discussed the problematic of using such men to obtain anthropological knowledge which was often done at the expense of reporting the contemporary lives of Aboriginal people and the effects of settlement, invasion, dislocation, and dispossession. It was (is) a strategy of anthropology to write in the present tense even though much of what was being witnessed was either being performed as a special request by the anthropologist, or in some other way did not reflect how people lived their daily lives. See Geoffrey Gray, "Dislocating the Self: Anthropological Field Work in the Kimberley, Western Australia, 1934–1936," Aboriginal History, 26 (2002): 23–50; also Abraham Rosman and Paula G. Rubel, "Powdermaker's Lesu," Journal of Anthropological Research 47 (1991): 381–2.

12. Porteus to Radcliffe-Brown, 6 March 1928, Elkin Papers, University of Sydney Archives, Sydney (hereafter EP), 248/641. Porteus and Jones'work was published in 1929; see their Matrix of the Mind (London: Edward Arnold, 1929).

13. For further discussion see Porteus, A Psychologist of Sorts (Palo Alto, CA: Pacific Books, 1969), 51–90.

14. Neville to Gibson, 8 May 1928; Neville to Gibson, 18 June 1928, EP, 248/641.

15. R.H. Gambage (ANRC) to Porteus, 13 February 1928, EP, 248/641.

16. P.G. Jones, "South Australian Anthropological History: The Board for Anthropological Research and its Early Expeditions," Records of the South Australian Museum 20 (1987): 71–92.

17. Cleland to Wissler, 7 September, 1932, Cleland Papers, Museum of South Australia, Adelaide.

18. Radcliffe-Brown to Porteus, 23 October 1928, EP, 248/641.

19. Stanley D. Porteus, The Psychology of a Primitive People: A Study of the Australian Aborigines (London: Arnold, 1931), ix. In 1934 Porteus took a medical officer with him on an expedition to the Kalahari Desert to study the 'bushmen.' He was accompanied by Jay M. Kuhns, a Hawai'ian plantation doctor who went game hunting while Porteus studied the bushmen.

20. Porteus to Gibson, 21 November 1928; Porteus to Radcliffe-Brown, 21 November 1928, EP, 248/641.

21. Porteus to ANRC, 23 October 1928, EP, 248/641.

22. Porteus, A Psychologist of Sorts, 115.

23. Marion Benjamin, "'Blonde Captive': White Feminine Sexuality and the Censorship of Images of Indigenous Australians," in Speaking Positions: Aboriginality, gender and ethnicity in Australian Cultural Studies, edited by Peggy van Toon and David English (Melbourne: Department of Humanities and Victoria University of Technology, 1995), 47.

24. Benjamin, 144.

25. Memo, Neville, 20 June 1929, ACC993, 133/28, West Australian State Archives (hereafter WASA).

26. Withington to Neville, 21 June 1929, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

27. Memo, Neville, 20 June 1929, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

28. Neville to Under Secretary, 27 June 1929, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

29. Porteus, Psychology of a Primitive People , ix.

30. Porteus, A Psychologist of Sorts, 92.

31. Spurling to Neville 5 August 1929, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

32. Healy to Neville, 5 July 1929, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

33. Withington to Neville, 1 November 1929, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

34. Healy to Neville, 9 July 1929, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

35. See Map of Porteus expedition in Porteus, A Psychologist of Sorts, 91.

36. Porteus, A Psychologist of Sorts, ix.

37. Withington to Neville, 1 November 1929, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

38. Withington to Neville, 1 November 1929, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

39. Memo, Neville, 25 November 1929, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

40. Withington to Neville, 1 November 1929, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

41. Neville to Withington, 25 November 1929, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

42. Porteus to Neville, 20 November 1929, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

43. Porteus to Neville, 17 September 1930, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

44. Neville to Porteus, 31 October 1930, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

45. Porteus to Neville, 8 December 1930, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

46. Neville to Radcliffe-Brown, 19 January 1931, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

47. Radcliffe-Brown to Neville, 27 January 1931, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

48. Porteus to ANRC, 15 April 1931, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

49. In the film notes of the Bologna Film Festival the collaboration with the ANRC is recognised: 'the North Western Australian Expedition Syndacate co la collaborazione del national Rechearch [sic] Council of Australia'. Programme, XXXI Mostra Internazionale del Cinema Libero IL CINEMA RITROVATO, http://www.cinetecadibologna.it/programmi/05cinema/2004/archivio/ritrovato2002.pdf (accessed 15 October 2005), June–July 2002.

50. Porteus to Neville, 21 January 1931, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

51. New York Times , 29 February 1932, press clipping, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

52. The Imperial Distribution Corporation was formed in 1931 by William M. Pizor that primarily targeted and released documentaries, B-Westerns, melodramas, and short subjects. Imperial began relying on movies from overseas and as the market changed, eventually could not continue to operate. They closed their doors in 1939.

53. The Douglas Mawson is described as a 'wooden ketch-rigged steamer, 333 tons. Built 1914. Lbd 141.6 x 30.7 x 8.6 ft. Disappeared in a cyclone whilst on her regular run to Cairns after leaving Burketown 26 March 1923. When she became overdue at Thursday Island searches were organised but there was no sign of her or any identifiable wreckage. Months later, rumours circulated that two white women passengers on the ship had survived and were living with the Aborigines in a remote area of Arnhem Land. After several more unsuccessful searches, stories that the women were still alive continued for more than a decade but they were never confirmed. [LW]' http://www.netspace.net.au/~oceans1/nt-wrecks.html (accessed 15 October 2005) See also Gillian Cowlishaw, "White Women Held Captive in Arnhem Land," The Olive Pink Society Bulletin 8, no. 1 (1996): 17–22.

54. New York Times, 29 February 1932, Press clipping, in ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

55. Neville to Porteus, 23 February 1932; Porteus to Neville, 8 March 1932, ACC993, 133/28, WASA.

56. Porteus to Neville, 25 March 1932. Porteus, op. cit., [1931], p. ix.

57. Attorney General to Neville, 6 June 1934. Porteus, op. cit., [1969], p. 92.

58. Porteus, A Psychologist of Sorts, 92–3.

59. Saul Dubow, Scientific Racism in Modern South Africa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 222.

60. Dubow, 222. Both Carnegie and Rockefeller supported projects which examined the comparative mentality of primitive peoples which closely allied to the eugenics movement (see Dubow, 14).

61. See Elkin, "The Social Life and Intelligence of the Australian Aborigine: A Review of SD Porteus's Psychology of a Primitive People, " Oceania 3, no. 1 (1932): 101–13.

62. Radcliffe-Brown to Chapman, 24 December 1931, MS 482, 850c, ANL.

63. Elkin to Gibson, 18 September 1934, EP, 156/4/1/12.

64. Programme, XXXI Mostra Internazionale del Cinema Libero. I would like to thank Denise Driver, Museum of South Australia, for bringing this to my notice.

65. Ibid.

66. Ibid.

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