Searching for an original way to tell the Ned Kelly story steered its director away from realism and into the realm of mythical reinvention
In Monegeetta, Victoria, a town east of Mount Macedon and about an hour’s drive from the Melbourne CBD, a small group of people – including myself – are standing on muddy ground in the cold, outside Mintaro, a brick Italianate mansion built in 1881. Its spectacular features include a three-storey tower and Doric columns positioned at its imposing entrance. It is beautiful – and very creepy.
Our eyes are glued to two television monitors. They are displaying feeds from cameras positioned inside, where the Mintaro’s decadent vibe is countered by a Dogs in Space kind of scuzziness – its grime-splotched walls and faded wallpaper suggesting the place has seen better days.