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Philippe Mora
Philippe Mora
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Philippe Mora (born 1949[1]) is a French-born Australian artist and film director.

Key Information

Origin

[edit]

Mora was born in Paris, France in 1949 to a Lithuanian-Jewish mother and a German-Jewish father.[2] He is the eldest son of artist Mirka Mora[3] and her husband, restaurateur[4] and gallery owner[5] Georges Mora, a French Resistance fighter during World War II.[6] After a brief stint in New York, the family emigrated to Australia in July 1951 when Philippe was two, settling in Melbourne, where the Moras founded the Melbourne eateries Mirka Café and Café Balzac. Two younger brothers were born in Australia: William Mora (b. 1953, an art dealer) and Tiriel Mora (b. 1958, an actor). In 1965 His parents opened the Tolarno Restaurant and Galleries in St Kilda.[7]

Mora began making films with an 8mm camera his father gave him while he was still a child,[8] and won art prizes as a teenager.[9]

Career

[edit]

A self-confessed movie addict from childhood, Mora's cinema icons were the Marx Brothers, Jean Cocteau's surrealist films, Alfred Hitchcock, Buster Keaton (as director) and Ernst Lubitsch's early films,[10] as reflected in his first home movies. Back Alley, now preserved at the National Film & Sound Archive, was made in 1964 when he was 15. This was a parody of West Side Story filmed in Flinders Lane, Melbourne just behind his mother's studio in Grosvenor Chambers at 9 Collins Street. The film features Mora, his brother William, and friends Peter Beilby and Sweeney Reed, son of Joy Hester. His next film, Dreams in a Grey Afternoon (1965) was made as a silent movie but was screened with music by artist Asher Bilu. Shot on 8 mm and printed on 16 mm, the film features stop-motion animation of sculptures by the Russian-Australian sculptor and painter Danila Vassilieff, and includes rare footage of Sunday and John Reed.

Mora's next project, Man in a Film (1966), was a pastiche of Federico Fellini's and was also influenced by his recent viewing of The Beatles' A Hard Day's Night. Like its predecessor, it was made as a silent film, shot on 8mm and blown up to 16mm, and again screened with music by Asher Bilu. Man in a Film starred Sweeney Reed and premiered at the Tolarno Galleries in early 1967.

Give It Up (1967), shot in Fitzroy Street, Melbourne, again featured Reed, with Don Watson and Philippe's younger brother Tiriel. The film symbolised Australian response to the Vietnam War by depicting a woman (played by Zara Bowman) being repeatedly kicked and beaten in the gutter of a busy street while onlookers do nothing.

Exhibitions

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In late 1967,[11] when he had finished school,[12] Mora travelled to England. He was invited, with his partner Freya Matthews, by Australian artist Martin Sharp into "The Pheasantry", a historic building in King's Road, Chelsea, London which housed studios and a nightclub.[13] This residence inspired the name of his production company, Pheasantry Films. As "Von Mora", during this time he contributed cartoons influenced by Dada, comic strip art, Francis Bacon, and Vincent Van Gogh to Oz magazine and assisted co-editor Martin Sharp with its landmark "Magic Theatre" edition. In 2007, along with others associated with Oz including Germaine Greer, he was critical of the sensationalist depiction of the era in the movie Hippie Hippie Shake,[14] but recalled in 2008 that; "most of my creative roots are in London. This is where I took off, crashed and burned and took off again. Paraphrasing Brendan Behan, on occasion, like many artists, I was a drinker with a painting problem."[15] He also made his next short film, Passion Play, shot in the Pheasantry ca. 1967-1968 and featuring Jenny Kee as Mary Magdalene, Michael Ramsden as Jesus, and Mora himself as the Devil.

Mora began painting as soon as he arrived in London,[16] and his first London exhibitions "Anti-Social Realism" and "Vomart," were held, at her invitation, in 1968 and 1969 at the Kings Road gallery of Clytie Jessop, and garnered excellent reviews.,[17] though the first, in the Daily Mail announcing that he used a special paint formula that kills flies, was evidently a satire written by the artist.[18] Jessop was sister of Hermia Boyd (Hermia Lloyd-Jones), wife of noted ceramicist David Boyd and a well-known actress and director who played the sinister Miss Jessell in Jack Clayton's classic supernatural thriller The Innocents (1961), and later directed the film Emma's War (1988) starring Lee Remick and a young Miranda Otto.[citation needed]

Mora also held a show at the Sigi Krauss Gallery where Martin Sharp also exhibited, featuring pictures painted in black and white.[6] The show also included a grey male rat which he had bought from Harrods. When the rat turned out to be female and gave birth, he tried unsuccessfully to sell the babies as 'multiples' in a limited edition of eight. The rat show attracted the interest of German avant-garde artist Klaus Stacks, who commissioned Mora to produce an edition of a hundred screen prints of the mother rat.[19] In February 1971, Joseph Beuys and Erwin Heerich invited him to sign a "Call to Action" manifesto demanding the freeing of the German art market.

His next show was in 1970 at the Sigi Krauss Gallery featuring a life-size sculpture of a sitting man, Pork Chop Ballad, a metaphor for the war in Vietnam. Mora's provocative and highly symbolic offal exhibit caused a stir. A brick was thrown through the gallery window, which led to it being featured on the cover of Time Out. Later, as the piece began to putrify, the police were called after Princess Margaret, dining at the restaurant across the street, complained about the stench. Detectives from Scotland Yard descended on the gallery and demanded that the sculpture be removed, but gallery owner Krauss refused. The police claimed it was a health hazard and forced him to move it into the garden, where it gradually rotted away.[15] At later Krauss group exhibition Mora also screened his 8 mm 'film painting' Passion Play back-projected onto a screen framed in gold leaf.

Guy Brett compared his work in the Camden Arts Centre exhibition Narrative Painting in Britain in the Twentieth Century with that of David Hockney:

The paintings of the young Australian Philippe Mora … create the opposite atmosphere to Hockney's. They suggest networks of Fear, Threat and Violence. Yet it is not possible to compare them, because Mora uses an apparently dry and cool, economical graphic style rather than the florid impressionism one might expect… Where Hockney avoids any kind of moral judgement, Mora's pantings are thoroughly moralistic… He has an effective way of re-interpreting borrowed imagery… with his thin bleak line and his grasp of grotesque imagery. Mora does create a strong atmosphere.[20]

Film

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Trouble in Molopolis (1970), Mora's first feature-length film (the title a homage to Fritz Lang's Metropolis),[4] was financed by the partnership of Arthur Boyd and Eric Clapton.[21] Shot in Robert Hughes' apartment and at the Pheasantry, the film features Germaine Greer as a cabaret singer, Jenny Kee as 'Shanghai Lil', Laurence Hope as a gangster, Martin Sharp as a mime and Richard Neville as a PR man. Tony Cahill from The Easybeats collaborated with Jamie Boyd for the score before the film premiered at the Paris Pullman Cinema in Chelsea, as an Oz benefit. Introduced by George Melly, star John Ivor Golding also made a memorable appearance at the premiere, defecating in the front row and then passing out in an alcoholic coma.[citation needed] Shown in May 1970 at the Festival of British independent Films in London,[22] it was eventually screened in Australia at the Adelaide Film Festival in 1980.[23]

At age 23, Mora directed Swastika, a two-hour compilation selected from 250 hours of captured Nazi documentaries, anti-Semitic propaganda, the Berlin Olympics including an interview with a polite Jesse Owens, and sequences from home movies made by Eva Braun discovered in the United States Marine and Signal Corps files[24] in Washington by German-born University of London academic and specialist in German film, Lutz Becker,[25] who pointed out that it included the first piece of film ever to show Hitler, in Munich in 1919, and colour film of the Storm Troopers' victory parade in Berlin, 1933, remarking that "Even the Nazis didn't know about the 1919 piece of film with Hitler in it."[26] In the same year Mora became editor and American correspondent of the newly launched Cinema Papers alongside Peter Beilby and Scott Murray.[27]

In 1975 and newly married, Mora wrote and directed, Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?,[1][28][29] a documentary about the 1930s Depression consisting of a series of film clips from newsreels and photographs, Hollywood films reflecting historical events, and those about making movies as well as outtakes, trailers, and home movies.[30][31] It was screened at the Cannes Film Festival during 'Critics Week,'[12] and at the 1975 Melbourne Film Festival,[32] at which he announced that he had left Australia "because I wanted to get into films, and there was no industry here."[12]

In 1976, after eight years working in London and New York, Mora's first feature film was Mad Dog Morgan,[1][33] about the bushranger Daniel Morgan, which he also wrote and directed, explaining to Rita Erlich that while he was moving away from the documentary, in all films "one is telling a story, just using different means. Film is a narrative art."[10] Starring Dennis Hopper, Jack Thompson, David Gulpilil, Bill Hunter and Frank Thring,[34][35] produced by David Puttnam[36] with A$175,666 investment and a A$8,500 loan from the Australian Film Corporation and private backers,[37] Mad Dog Morgan was the first Australian movie to get a 40-cinema release in the United States and worldwide rights purchased for A$300,000 (worth nearly A$2 million in 2021).[38] Though reviewer Michael Rowberry considered its "bid for realism has led the director to overdo the blood," and that the "simplistic morality of the film which ultimately robs it of depth,"[39] it went on to receive the John Ford Award at the Cannes Film Festival in 1976 as part of US Bicentennial celebrations, and in 1977 Mora was nominated by the Australian Film Institute for 'Best Director' for the film.[40]

In early 1980, Mora and Ron Mallory took an option on Errol Flynn: The Untold Story by Charles Higham,[41] raising hopes of an Australian film being produced in Hollywood, but abandoned after controversy over Higham's research; members of Flynn's family unsuccessfully sued the author and the book's publisher for libel.[42] After making The Beast Within, his first film in America, Mora's next project on one of his periodic returns to Australia in 1981,[43] was the parodic superhero musical, The Return of Captain Invincible, released in Hoyts cinemas for Christmas 1982 by Seven Keys,[44] and starring Alan Arkin, Christopher Lee, Kate Fitzpatrick and an all-star Australian cast, with songs by The Rocky Horror Show creator Richard O'Brien. When Mora fell out with producer Andrew Gaty following Gaty re-cutting the film, the Department of Home Affairs pulled its certification as an Australian film asserting that it was then a different film, prompting a February 1983 court case,[45] which was still not settled in July.[46]

Mora's next productions were A Breed Apart with Rutger Hauer and Kathleen Turner, the werewolf horror films Howling II: Your Sister Is a Werewolf and Howling III, the latter shown at the Melbourne Comedy Festival in 1991,[47] and the political drama Death of a Soldier, starring James Coburn, which was based on the infamous Melbourne wartime Eddie Leonski murder case.[48][49] While in Australia to make the latter, Mora conducted a seminar in June 1985 at the Australian Screen Directors Association.[50] Mora's next film used the plot of the book Communion,[51] by his old friend from his London days in the late 1960s, artist, author and broadcaster Whitley Strieber. Released in 1989, and to video,[52] the film starred Christopher Walken and was based on Strieber's own alleged encounters with aliens.

Film credits as director as well as occasional writer and actor during the 1990s included the horror spoof Pterodactyl Woman from Beverly Hills (1994) with Beverly D'Angelo, Barry Humphries (in three roles), Moon Unit Zappa and Philippe's children Georges and Madeleine; Art Deco Detective (1994); and Precious Find (1996), a sci-fi version of The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. For television, Mora directed Mercenary II: Thick & Thin (1997), and the films Back in Business (1997), Snide and Prejudice (1998) and Burning Down the House (1998).

When We Were Modern

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In the early 2000s, with a A$25,000 'general development' fund from the Australian Film Commission,[53] Mora began work on a still-unfinished film project titled When We Were Modern[54] which in part touched on his own life and experience. The film's plot explores on the tangled relationships of the Heide inner circle – Sidney Nolan, Joy Hester, Albert Tucker and John and Sunday Reed. In the 1940s, after deserting from the army, Nolan took refuge at the Reed's famous house "Heide", and it was here that he made the first paintings in his now world-famous Ned Kelly series. During this time, Nolan also conducted an open affair with Sunday Reed, but she refused to leave her husband and marry Nolan, so he subsequently married John's Reed's sister, Cynthia Hansen instead. The marriage eventually broke up, and when Cynthia committed suicide in 1976, her death sparked a bitter feud between Nolan and author Patrick White, which lasted until the end of their lives. White excoriated Nolan for abandoning his first wife Elizabeth (who was a close friend of his) and for remarrying (to Mary Perceval) so soon after Cynthia's death.

At the time of announcement, Mora had cast Australian actor Clayton Watson (The Matrix) to play Nolan, with Americans Alec Baldwin as John Reed and Jennifer Jason Leigh as Sunday Reed. During pre-production, Mora discovered previously unseen home movies of the Heide circle, including the only films of Joy Hester and the Mirka Café. When We Were Modern was to have been dedicated to Sweeney Reed, who committed suicide in March 1979, aged 34. Sweeney was to have featured prominently as a character, and as a tribute to him, Mora reportedly planned to include some of the footage from Back Alley under the closing credits.

Mora labored on the project for several years but it was rejected by Australian film funding bodies. Since then, Mora has worked on several other features and documentaries, but in May 2012, Deadline Hollywood reported that he was returning to the film, intended then to be an animated feature using a combination of hand puppets, stop motion and conventional animation, with the last act in 3D, supervised by 3D cinematographer Dave Gregory. The report also indicates that Clayton Watson will still portray Nolan, but will now perform the role as a voice actor. Interviewed for the report, Mora commented: "Personally I loved John and Sunday, and Sweeney Reed, their adopted son, was my best friend as a kid. My parents helped John and Sunday set up the Museum of Modern Art of Australia. This Nolan-Reed ménage is an important story that must be told honestly, no holds barred. It's a great Australian epic of love and modernism. We are using puppets done in the style of the painters involved."[55]

Later career

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In 2007, Mora obtained FBI files released under freedom of information laws. In them, he uncovered evidence of an elaborate plot by Robert Kennedy to trick Marilyn Monroe into suicide; the detailed three-page implicated her psychiatrist, publicist and housekeeper as well as her friend, the British-born Hollywood actor Peter Lawford, who was married to Kennedy's sister, Patricia.[56][57] In the Sydney Morning Herald Mora affirmed that the document, sent to the FBI on 19 October 1964, was genuine.

Mora married Pamela Krause Mora, a producer and production designer who worked on a number of his films since the 1990s, and they have three children.

Reception and legacy

[edit]

In 1970, The Guardian's Derek Malcolm reviewing Trouble in Molopolis then being shown at The Other Cinema's 'festival of British independents,' describes it as "a Brechtian fable directed by Philippe Mora and set to on-off Weill-like music by Tony Cahill and others. Good colour belies its cost (£6,000) and a sense of humour enlivens its serious purpose, which is to present a story of greed, stupidity and avarice in easily recognisable Marxist terms ... rough and at times amateurish ... it is distinctly original without being pretentious."[58] The Daily Telegraph picked up on Mora's statement that "it was a problem keeping the clichés yet trying to get a fresh reaction,' of which the journalist Eric Shorter concluded; "the problem was not solved."[59]

Though it was the official British entry at the Cannes Film Festival, Australian critic Pamela Ruskin excoriated Swastika in her review for lacking context, and thus 'whitewashing' Hitler.[60] Micheal Billington in The Illustrated London News Obersalzburg considered a strength was its revealing "Hitler's manifest impatience when anyone else is talking and his inability to relax even in a domestic setting: he's as rigid as a tightly rolled umbrella, as carefully wound up as a mechanical toy. Far from emphasizing the gap between the private and the public face, this intriguing if fact-starved film suggests that the two were ominously indistinguishable.[61] When Swastika was being shown afresh three years later in Village Theatres throughout Australia, Barbara Alysen in the Sydney Tribune was less reactive, acknowledging the controversy because "we are accustomed to having documentaries tell us what to think and [...] Hitler without comment is probably still a little too ambiguous," but pointing out that though it "shows Hitler, Goering, Goebbels et al. sunbathing, playing with children and dogs, and relaxing rather than orating and inciting," the film reveals Hitler as "a rather anaemic actor, shy and ill-at-ease in front of the camera," which makes "the ruling caste come out of Eva's films looking embarrassingly puny and unassertive, [...] unconscious inferiority [being] nazism's driving force."[62] Derek Malcolm compares Hitler : The Last Ten Days starring Alec Guinness unfavourably against Mora's "unforgettable documentary" revealing "the real thing,"[63] and Alexander Walker writing in The Evening Standard remarks that;

If you think it morally objectionable to treat such a man with the considerate focus of an admiring camera which lends if not enchantment to the view, then a mundane humanity, just consider what Albert Speer, Hitler's former architect and Armaments Minister, writes in a preface to the film – that unless we view the monster in his human shape, we may not recognise other human beings as the monsters they could become today, or tomorrow.[64]

Susie Eisenhuth in the Australian Women's Weekly hailed Brother. Can You Spare a Dime? as a film that "manages to romp through the difficult task of presenting this unhappy time and checks out finally as a thoroughly absorbing and entertaining affair. With a breezy blend of documentary footage, much of it rare and all of it fascinating –and gems from the movie classics of the period (like Gold Diggers of 1933). Mora has assembled a superb scrapbook of the lean, mean, laugh-or-you'll-cry '30s...Best of all, young writer-director Mora understands that the most interesting history is that which chronicles events both great and small."[65] The un-named Tharunka reviewer considers that "It's a pity that Brother Can You Spare A Dime? has been given a glossy, nostalgic image when, in fact, it is a film of importance in understanding the forces which manipulate societies without regard to any integrity of the individual."[66] Sandra Hall in The Bulletin declared it "a documentary meticulously constructed to give the flavor of a country and a period through its ceremonies, its personalities, its news stories and its culture,"[67] while English critic Alan Stanbrook regarded its view of the Depression "oversimplified."[68] In its subject country, America itself, Kevin Thomas praised the documentary's 'astonishing comprehensiveness' and emotional impact'[69]

More ambivalent about melodramatic moments in Mad Dog Morgan in which "Mora loses control," Hall found it overall "a film that works hard and for the most part, effectively as a reminder of what is remarkable in Australian history."[70] Though, according to Filmnews, it opened to "damaging" reviews in New York,[71] Kay Keavney of the Australian Women's Weekly, in discussing Margaret Carnegie's research into the bushranger subject of Mad Dog Morgan, describes the film's creators as "arguably the world's most exciting young film-makers, Philippe Mora and Jeremy Thomas."[72] While in Australia promoting the film, Mora gave a master class at Chiron College, which was an innovative senior secondary school in Sydney 1969–1976. Mad Dog Morgan won 'Best Direction' in the 1977 Australian Film Institute awards alongside other celebrated Australian features; Bruce Beresford's Don's Party and Henri Safran's Storm Boy.[40]

Filmnews in 1976 offered the perspective that;

Philippe Mora's films have always been concerned with insanity...the individual insanity commonly referred to as madness, or the conditioned insanity which is that apparent state of normality termed civilized behaviour. In this context Mora's three major works, Swastika, Brother Can You Spare Dime and Mad Dog have defined three aspects of insanity so concisely that they may be regarded as testaments for the 70s.[73]

During its 1990 showing in the UK Christopher Tookey panned Communion (1989) in the Sunday Telegraph as 'unquestionably a pain in the arse,' and calls Mora's direction 'banal,'[74] while The Daily Telegraph rated it 'awkward and unconvincing,'[75] Derek Malcolm considered the film hampered by audiences low expectations of the genre; and despite its "high seriousness," "we get something more than a little dull and not much more credible than your average ET substitute."[76]

Reviewing Mora's 1994 Art Deco Detective, Cass Hampton declared unambiguously that "straightforward it definitely is not," but concluded that "there's a lot to chew on, and may be indigestible, but it has appeal: quirky dialogue, classy black comedy and dry, understated acting. It might be somebody's cup of tea.[77]

Selected filmography

[edit]
Year Title Notes
1969 Trouble in Molopolis [4][22]
1973 Swastika [78][79][80]
1975 Brother Can You Spare a Dime? [65][66][67]
1976 Mad Dog Morgan [72][40]
1982 The Beast Within
1983 The Return of Captain Invincible
1984 A Breed Apart
1985 Howling II: Your Sister is a Werewolf
1986 Death of a Soldier
1987 Howling III [47]
1989 Communion [74]
1994 Art Deco Detective
1996 Precious Find
1997 Pterodactyl Woman from Beverly Hills
Snide and Prejudice
Back in Business
1998 Joseph's Gift
1999 According to Occam's Razor
Mercenary II: Thick & Thin
2001 Burning Down the House
2009 The Times They Ain't a Changin'
The Gertrude Stein Mystery or Some Like It Art
2011 German Sons
2015 Three Days in Auschwitz
2012 Continuity [81]

Exhibitions

[edit]
Date Title Collaborators Location Notes
1967 Argus Gallery, Melbourne, Australia
1968 Anti-Social Realism and Into Childhood Clytie Jessop Gallery, London [18]
1969, to 23 February Paintings by Philippe Mora [82]
1969 Vomart
1970 Forgeries
1970, 23 April-22 May Crucifixion Exhibition. An Exhibition of Degenerate Art Mora, Powell, Ramsden, Strawheim, Sharp, Shamask, Philadelphia and other Neurotic Perverts Sigi Krauss Gallery, 29 Neal Street, Covent Garden
1970, 10 February–8 March Narrative Painting in Britain in the 20th Century Camden Arts Centre, London [20]
1971: 29 June-17 July Really good taste art by P. Mora Clytie Jessop Gallery, London [83][84]
1971, August Recent paintings by Philippe Mora Tolarno Galeries, 42 Fitzroy Street. St. Kilda

Collections

[edit]

Awards

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Award Category Recipient Result Ref.
1978 Australian Film Institute Awards AACTA Award for Best Direction Mad Dog Morgan Won [40]
15th International Festival of Fantastic & Horror Cinema, Sitges, Spain Best Special Effects The Return of Captain Invincible Won [87]

See also

[edit]

References

[edit]
[edit]
Revisions and contributorsEdit on WikipediaRead on Wikipedia
from Grokipedia
Philippe Mora (born 1949) is a Paris-born Australian filmmaker, painter, and writer whose career spans provocative documentaries on and historical figures, alongside cult genre films in horror and exploitation cinema. Born to the artists Georges and , he grew up in , directed his first film at age fifteen, and relocated to in 1967, where he established himself as a Pop before transitioning to feature-length filmmaking. Mora gained early acclaim with documentaries such as Swastika (1974), which incorporated rare home movies of Adolf Hitler and provoked violent backlash for humanizing the Nazi leader through mundane domestic footage, and Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? (1975), a montage of Depression-era clips narrated by Orson Welles. His narrative debut, Mad Dog Morgan (1976), a violent bushranger biopic starring Dennis Hopper, earned an Australian Film Institute nomination but drew criticism in Australia for its graphic content and perceived poor taste. Subsequent works include the body-horror film The Beast Within (1982), the superhero satire The Return of Captain Invincible (1983) with Alan Arkin, and the werewolf sequel Howling II: Your Sister Is a Werewolf (1985), cementing his reputation for low-budget, outrageous cult fare often produced by Troma Entertainment. Throughout his five-decade oeuvre of over thirty films, Mora has explored themes of historical revisionism, monstrosity, and Australian identity, frequently blending factual archival material with speculative or satirical elements, as in his adaptation of Whitley Strieber's alien abduction memoir Communion (1989) starring Christopher Walken. His artistic output extends to painting and acting, reflecting the bohemian influences of his émigré family, while his documentaries like Monsieur Mayonnaise (2016)—tracing his father's covert Resistance work during the Holocaust—highlight personal reckonings with European trauma. Mora's films have screened at festivals including Cannes and Avoriaz, though their boundary-pushing style has often invited debate over shock value versus substantive insight.

Early Life and Background

Family Origins and Migration

Philippe Edward Mora was born on August 8, 1949, in , , to Georges Mora (originally Günter Morawski), a German-Jewish , and (née Lubell), whose family had Jewish roots in . Both parents endured the Nazi occupation of during World War II as survivors of persecution, with Mirka's family arrested in the July 1942 in , detained at the , and briefly interned at the transit camp before a rare liberation allowed them to hide in a village in Bourgogne for the war's remainder. Georges, who had escaped for in 1933 ahead of escalating , avoided by working as a patent agent and aiding Jewish orphanages, including children across borders into alongside figures like mime . In 1951, the Moras, seeking a fresh start amid postwar uncertainties including fears of nuclear conflict, emigrated from to , , aboard a ship with their two-year-old son Philippe. Upon arrival, Georges established himself as a by opening the Mirka Café in 1954, which doubled as a hub for emerging artists, while Mirka pursued and wove European bohemian influences into Melbourne's nascent cultural scene, fostering connections among intellectuals and creatives despite the city's initial provincialism. This migration transplanted their resilient, art-infused worldview from wartime to , where Georges later owned galleries and supported local talents, embedding the family in the foundations of Melbourne's postwar artistic revival.

Childhood and Early Influences in Melbourne

Born in Paris in 1949 to Jewish , an artist, and Georges Mora, an art dealer and restaurateur, Philippe Mora migrated with his family to in 1951, settling in . The Moras quickly integrated into 's emerging bohemian circles, operating cafes and restaurants that attracted intellectuals and artists, later establishing Tolarno Galleries to promote . This environment immersed young Mora in a vibrant artistic household at 9 Collins Street, where he encountered figures like Albert Tucker as neighbors and observed eccentric performances by artists such as John Perceval and David Boyd. Mora described his childhood as culturally privileged, marked by exposure to European modernism through his parents' pre-war connections in and influences including , , and comic strips like . Living amid 's 1950s art scene, with Arthur Boyd's Melbourne Burning positioned over his bed, he received early training in drawing and painting, blending continental aesthetics with local cultural elements such as Australian comics and bohemian gatherings featuring "freak-outs" and medieval reenactments. A self-confessed film enthusiast from an early age, Mora experimented with filmmaking during his youth, producing home movies that captured his surroundings and parodied popular narratives; his initial effort, Back Alley (1964), a spoof made at age 15, is preserved in the . His parents' survival of Nazi persecution instilled a household emphasis on personal resilience amid adversity, encouraging critical engagement with historical narratives over deference to authority.

Visual Arts Career

Early Exhibitions and Style Development in London

Philippe Mora arrived in London in 1967 at the age of 18, joining an exodus of Australian creative talents such as Barry Humphries and Martin Sharp, and settled at The Pheasantry in Chelsea after an invitation from Sharp. He immediately pursued painting amid the vibrant "Swinging London" scene, contributing satirical cartoons to the underground magazine Oz, which exposed him to provocative, countercultural aesthetics. Mora's first solo exhibitions occurred in 1968 and 1969 at the Clytie Jessop Gallery, featuring works titled Anti-Social Realism, Into Childhood, and Vomart, which achieved both critical and commercial success, drawing press attention in a period dominated by minimalist and abstract trends. These shows showcased his emerging style: bold, figurative paintings that incorporated satirical elements, comic-strip influences, and references to , such as The Death of (1968) and Being Interviewed by the (1968), executed in vibrant oils or acrylics on board. Influenced by , , and , Mora's works blended personal mythology with cultural critique, often through exaggerated portraits and narrative scenes that challenged post-war abstraction's dominance by reviving storytelling and provocation. This early London phase distinguished Mora from contemporaneous minimalists by emphasizing satirical figurative content, as seen in pieces like Green Pig (1968), which used humor and historical nods to critique complacency, garnering notice for its anti-establishment edge akin to his Oz contributions. Subsequent shows with dealer Sigi Krauss, including a 1970 exhibition centered on Pork Chop Ballad, amplified controversy, with the titular work sparking debate in outlets like Time Out and Art International for its bold subversion of artistic norms. These exhibitions laid the groundwork for Mora's distinctive approach, prioritizing narrative disruption over formal abstraction.

Return to Australia and Mature Works

In the mid-1970s, following his time in , Philippe Mora returned to , , maintaining an international practice amid his expanding interests in . This period marked a maturation in his output, with paintings entering prominent public collections, including the , reflecting institutional acknowledgment of his contributions beyond ephemeral trends. Mora relocated to in 1978, sustaining a transatlantic career that integrated autobiographical elements drawn from his family's migratory history and artistic milieu. Later exhibitions, such as "Philippe Mora: Then & Now" at England & Co Gallery in in 2008, showcased this evolution, juxtaposing early Pop-inspired works with subsequent pieces that emphasized narrative depth and personal iconography over ideological fashions. His inclusion in collections like the further evidenced sustained empirical valuation of his oeuvre.

Key Themes and Artistic Philosophy

Mora's artwork recurrently contrasts with collectivism, a perspective shaped by his parents' survival of Nazi persecution, where personal ingenuity—such as his father's clandestine efforts to smuggle Jewish children from occupied —countered the machinery of state-enforced . This motif underscores the perils of collective obedience, evident in depictions of societal indifference, like a figure enduring unresisted violence amid passive crowds, evoking empirical observations of bystander complicity in historical atrocities. Satire forms the core of his approach to power, , and secular ideologies, deploying Dada-inspired and comic-strip exaggeration to expose hypocrisies in authority and myth-making. Works such as Pork Chop Ballad (1970) metaphorically dissect wartime and institutional aggression, while biblical parodies like Popeye and Olive's Expulsion from Paradise mock dogmatic narratives, favoring unvarnished of human folly over reverential or ideologically filtered retellings. His rejection of sanitized history aligns with broader critiques of , prioritizing direct confrontation with empirical records of and . Underlying these elements is a viewing as an adversarial probe into , where provocation serves to dismantle consensus illusions and compel rigorous into human nature's darker drivers. Influenced by countercultural irreverence, Mora employs painting to challenge prevailing cultural sanitization, drawing from Holocaust-derived insights to affirm individual agency against deterministic collectivist forces, as noted in analyses of his oeuvre's persistent thematic urgency. This stance, articulated through satirical weaponry rather than didactic prose, resists aesthetic in pursuit of uncompromised historical and psychological verity.

Filmmaking Career

Documentary Beginnings

Philippe Mora's entry into documentary filmmaking occurred with Swastika (1973), a British production that compiled archival footage to chronicle the Nazification of Germany from 1933 to 1945. The film juxtaposes official Nazi propaganda reels—depicting rallies, military parades, and public spectacles—with rare private color home movies shot by Eva Braun, capturing Adolf Hitler in domestic settings such as playing with children at Obersalzberg. This unadorned assembly of materials, drawn from sources including U.S. military archives where Braun's 16mm films had been held for decades, avoided scripted narration or interpretive overlays, relying instead on montage to convey the regime's permeation of everyday life. Mora's approach emphasized raw archival evidence to dissect totalitarian mechanisms, editing sequences of alongside personal footage to highlight the mundane normalcy enabling ideological extremism's appeal, without imposing external moral framing. By foregrounding color footage for visual immediacy—contrasting stark black-and-white newsreels with intimate, vibrant home recordings—the documentary innovated in presenting historical causality through unfiltered primary sources, challenging viewers to infer the seductive banality underlying rather than relying on post-hoc . This technique of selective compilation over commentary marked an early departure from conventional historical documentaries, prioritizing evidentiary directness to probe the psychological and of authoritarian rise. Swastika premiered out of competition at the 1973 , where its screening provoked immediate uproar, including audience protests that halted the projection midway and reports of physical altercations, underscoring the film's disruptive effect in confronting unmediated Nazi imagery. The work's insistence on evidentiary autonomy—eschewing condemnatory voiceover in favor of letting perpetrators' own records humanize their routines—generated controversy for potentially complicating simplistic villain narratives, though it achieved initial distribution amid the backlash. This debut established Mora's documentary style as one favoring empirical montage for causal insight into ideological pathologies, distinct from interpretive .

Narrative Feature Films

Mora transitioned to narrative feature films following his documentary work, debuting with (1976), which dramatized the life of 19th-century Australian . Starring in the title role, the film depicts Morgan's transformation from gold prospector to amid conflicts with corrupt colonial police, emphasizing themes of individual resistance against institutional brutality. Based on documented historical events, including Morgan's 1865 shooting under controversial circumstances where police claimed despite evidence of , the production employed on-location shooting in remote Australian terrains to evoke the era's harsh frontier realism. Hopper's casting infused raw intensity, drawing from his method-acting volatility, which pros such as atmospheric violence effectively conveyed anti-authoritarian defiance rooted in empirical police overreach records; however, cons included production chaos from Hopper's reported substance issues, potentially undermining narrative cohesion. In the , Mora explored horror genres with satirical undertones, notably The Beast Within (1982), a tale of a teenager's monstrous transformation tied to his mother's past assault by a cicada-like entity. Adapted from Edward Levy's , the screenplay by utilized practical effects for grotesque body horror, allegorically probing buried familial and societal traumas through escalating absurdities of and . This approach pros in delivering visceral gothic fable elements that bluntly confront repressed sins, as noted in contemporary analyses; cons lie in dated effects and uneven pacing that dilute the satire's edge against conventional horror tropes. Mora's narrative output culminated in adaptations like Communion (1989), directing the screen version of Whitley Strieber's 1987 memoir detailing purported alien abductions. Featuring as Strieber, the film recounts family vacation encounters with non-human entities, interweaving eyewitness testimonies with domestic skepticism to portray psychological and physical aftermaths. Artistic choices, including de Chirico-inspired surreal visuals, aimed to validate firsthand experiential data over blanket dismissals as , pros in fostering ambiguity that respects reported details like missing time and implants; cons encompass Walken's mannered delivery, which some critiques argue veers into , distancing from clinical realism.

Later Films and Adaptations

In 1986, Mora directed Death of a Soldier, a historical drama depicting the 1942 murders of three women by American soldier Edward Leonski during , amid tensions between U.S. forces and Australian locals. The film stars as the military lawyer defending the confessed perpetrator, whose execution followed a swift , underscoring wartime hysteria, media sensationalism, and the strains of the U.S.- alliance, as evidenced by public outrage including a station platform shootout between soldiers. Released on May 1, 1986, in , it drew from documented events, including Leonski's belief he could "sing the women to death," highlighting psychological elements over glorification. Mora continued with genre explorations, directing in 1987, an Australian-set werewolf featuring lycanthropes and blending horror with cultural on indigenous themes and government cover-ups. In 1989, he adapted Whitley Strieber's memoir Communion into a starring as the author grappling with memories, emphasizing personal trauma and skepticism toward establishment narratives on extraterrestrials. These works reflect Mora's shift toward international productions while retaining outsider critiques of authority and media distortion, avoiding formulaic Hollywood tropes. Later projects include independent efforts like the 2021 short I Was a Communist Werewolf, which satirizes ideological excesses through absurd horror, and Dracula Nazi Hunter, a conceptual piece invoking historical anti-fascist motifs with Christopher Lee. Mora's adaptations prioritize empirical oddities and causal undercurrents—such as psychological breakdowns or suppressed histories—over sanitized entertainment, maintaining his resistance to cultural conformity. In October 2023, the "Mind of Mora" retrospective at Portland's Cinemagic Theater screened seven films over seven days with Mora-led Q&As, marking his first U.S. survey and reaffirming his eclectic legacy amid renewed interest in non-mainstream cinema.

Political Views and Public Stances

Advocacy for Free Speech and Against Censorship

Philippe Mora's draws from his family's direct experience with totalitarian suppression, as his Jewish parents fled Nazi-occupied in 1941, escaping the regime's control over information and expression that facilitated . This background informed his lifelong stance against laws restricting , viewing such measures as empirically counterproductive by obscuring causal mechanisms of historical events and ideological spread. In public arguments, Mora has emphasized presenting historical records unedited to enable direct causal analysis over protective sanitization, asserting that unaltered exposure demystifies dangerous ideas rather than amplifying them through prohibition. His approach prioritizes empirical confrontation with primary sources, arguing that censorship fosters ignorance and unintended reverence for suppressed materials. Mora engaged in forums defending artistic liberty, including underground art circles in 1970s London alongside Oz magazine contributors who challenged obscenity prosecutions, and through provocative screenings of controversial works that tested institutional boundaries without narrative filters. These efforts highlighted his commitment to countering gatekeeping that prioritizes consensus over unvarnished evidence.

Critiques of Political Correctness and Cultural Orthodoxy

Mora has lambasted as a form of that erodes Australia's traditional of decency and a "fair go." In a 2010 Sydney Morning Herald column, he contrasted the 1964 acceptance of ' satirical parody—viewed then as harmless jest—with contemporary standards, asserting that " vigilantes would have vilified the band." This critique underscores his view that enforced supplants empirical and humor with punitive consensus, stifling cultural nuance. In examining academic , Mora targeted anthropological narratives that sanitize practices like by framing them as culturally equivalent rather than empirically hazardous. Referencing a by Dr. Shirley Lindenbaum, which sought to "dislodge the savage/civilised opposition" by normalizing cannibal rituals amid the Fore people's kuru —responsible for approximately 1,100 deaths between 1957 and 1968—Mora highlighted how such prioritizes ideological equivalence over causal of disease transmission via ritual . He portrayed this as a broader cultural shift toward accepting "primitive" savagery under relativist guises, detached from verifiable health outcomes and human costs. Mora's satirical works further expose flaws in prevailing cultural norms, favoring unvarnished realism over sanitized consensus. His 1994 film Pterodactyl Woman from Beverly Hills lampoons "airheaded " intertwined with superficiality, portraying suburban ideologues whose dogmatic pieties collapse under absurd scrutiny. Similarly, in , he derided Hollywood's ideological gatekeeping, where studios dismissed Whitley Strieber's Communion—a 1980s bestseller on —for defying conventional disbelief, despite precedents like succeeding on fantastical premises; Mora independently financed the project with $5 million to circumvent such conformity. These instances reflect his insistence on evidence-driven inquiry over narrative-driven suppression of unconventional perspectives.

Engagement with Historical Controversies

Mora's 1973 documentary , co-directed with Lutz Becker, provoked significant backlash for incorporating previously unseen private footage shot by , depicting in domestic settings with family, pets, and Nazi inner circle members such as and at . The film premiered amid chaos at the , where audiences screamed "Assassin!" and a descended into a riot, leading to its abandonment; it was subsequently banned in until a partial lifting decades later. Critics and viewers interpreted the un-narrated home movies—showing Hitler in seemingly banal, sentimental moments—as potentially humanizing or sympathizing with Nazis, prompting accusations of revisionism despite the footage's archival authenticity from holdings. Mora defended the inclusion of such material as vital for comprehending the "banality of evil," arguing that unfiltered immersion in how Nazis perceived and documented their own lives revealed the ordinary underpinnings of Nazism's rise, countering reductive moral narratives that overlook causal mechanisms like societal Nazification. By eschewing didactic commentary, the film prioritized raw evidence over imposed judgments, assuming Hitler's atrocities were universally acknowledged, a stance rooted in Mora's upbringing in a household. This approach intervened against taboos on depicting Nazis beyond , emphasizing empirical footage—including and rally scenes—to trace historical processes without excusing evil, as Mora clarified he sought no rehabilitation of Hitler but insight into genocidal origins. In addressing Holocaust representation, Mora balanced survivor empathy—drawing from his mother's narrow escape from Auschwitz and family losses—with advocacy for rigorous causal inquiry, critiquing denialism by invoking General Dwight D. Eisenhower's documentation of camps to preempt future disbelief. His works, such as Three Days in Auschwitz (2015), juxtapose personal Holocaust reflections with examinations of human capacity for atrocity, rejecting oversimplifications in favor of probing evolutionary and societal roots, while questioning fabricated historical elements like certain Nazi propaganda to preserve factual integrity. This stance promotes free historical examination, opposing constraints that stifle evidence-based analysis of events like colonial genocides or WWII dynamics, thereby fostering truth over orthodoxy.

Reception, Criticisms, and Legacy

Critical Responses to Art and Films

Philippe Mora's debut feature (1976) elicited mixed responses, with critics lauding Dennis Hopper's portrayal of the outlaw as a "monstrously good" and "all-guns-blazing" performance that captured the character's descent into madness through raw intensity. Some reviewers, however, faulted the film's gonzo style and as overly ugly or lacking directorial depth, despite acknowledging its thrilling sequences and Hopper's ability to infuse heart into the proceedings. His documentary Swastika (1974), compiled from uncut Nazi footage including private Hitler home movies, drew sharp controversy for eschewing voice-over narration and didactic framing, a choice that allowed the raw images to provoke without imposed moralizing; critics and audiences reacted with outrage, interpreting the absence of explicit condemnation as potentially desensitizing or overly neutral toward fascist banality. In contrast, the film's empirical approach—presenting unaltered archival material—earned defenders who valued its unfiltered confrontation with historical evil over guided interpretation. Mora's The Beast Within (1982) faced initial pillorying for its grotesque excesses and genre tropes, with reviewers decrying the film's reliance on schlocky transformations and familial trauma; over time, reassessments highlighted its redemptive boldness in blending with creature-feature elements, though consensus remained divided on its tonal abrasiveness. Similarly, Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? (1975), a montage-driven look at the via newsreels, garnered praise for its commentary-free immersion in era-specific footage, capturing economic despair without narrative intrusion, though some found the relentless archival barrage emotionally overwhelming. Mora's early visual art, including satirical cartoons for the underground magazine Oz and paintings exhibited at the Clytie Jessop Gallery in 1968 and 1969, provoked varied reactions; supporters like critic R.C. Kennedy hailed the works' pop-infused irreverence and anti-establishment bite as a fresh antidote to staid modernism, while others dismissed the garish, confrontational style as juvenile or ideologically provocative in its mockery of cultural pieties. This satirical edge, evident across Mora's oeuvre, has been alternately celebrated for piercing orthodox sensitivities and critiqued as abrasively unsubtle, particularly in historical subjects where empirical rawness clashed with expectations of reverent framing.

Awards, Collections, and Institutional Recognition

Mora's film (1976) earned him a nomination for Best Director at the 1977 Australian Film Institute Awards. His documentaries (1974) and Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? (1975) received awards for their innovative use of archival footage, including the integration of previously unseen home movies from in the former. In 2014, the Oldenburg International Film Festival presented Mora with the German Independence Honorary Award, recognizing his contributions to independent cinema. Mora's paintings are held in public collections, including the . Other Australian institutions feature his works, affirming institutional acquisition of his output from the 1960s onward. Retrospectives include the 2014 focus at Oldenburg International Film Festival, screening multiple titles from his oeuvre. In 2023, the Cinemagic Theater in , hosted the first U.S. retrospective titled Mind of Mora, featuring films with post-screening discussions led by the director. Gallery exhibitions, such as & Co's 2008 Philippe Mora: Then and Now, displayed his paintings spanning London influences to contemporary pieces. Earlier shows, like the Narrative Painting in Britain exhibition at Camden Arts Centre, included his contributions to twentieth-century British narrative traditions.

Broader Cultural Impact and Debates

Mora's documentaries, notably Swastika (1974), which juxtaposed Eva Braun's home movies of Adolf Hitler with official Nazi propaganda and Allied combat footage, have sustained debates on the ethical boundaries of historical filmmaking. By presenting unfiltered primary sources that depict the private, banal dimensions of Nazi leadership—such as Hitler playing with dogs or engaging in leisure—the film empirically challenged prevailing orthodoxies that emphasized solely propagandistic or monstrous portrayals, prompting accusations of unintended humanization while defenders argued it illuminated causal mechanisms of ideological entrenchment through everyday complicity. This approach influenced subsequent works in archival cinema, fostering a tradition of source-driven analysis over narrative sanitization, though critics from left-leaning institutions often dismissed it as provocative sensationalism lacking resolution. In Australian cinema, Mora's early contributions, including co-founding Cinema Papers in 1974 to critique domestic parochialism and integrate global perspectives, helped dismantle insular establishment tastes dominated by subsidized "quality" productions. Films like (1976), which defied Australian Film Commission objections over its raw depiction of colonial violence starring , exemplified a causal push against cultural orthodoxy, inspiring generations of independent filmmakers to prioritize uncompromised storytelling over institutional approval. This legacy manifests in ongoing advocacy for artistic autonomy, where Mora's insistence that "good taste is the enemy of art" underscores resistance to censorious norms, evidenced by retrospectives highlighting his role in broadening national discourse beyond conformist boundaries. Broader impacts extend to free speech advocacy within artistic spheres, where Mora's oeuvre counters predominant left-leaning institutional biases—evident in academia and media's selective historical framing—by privileging verifiable artifacts over ideologically filtered interpretations. His engagements with controversial topics, from WWII revisionism via private reels to critiques of , have empirically advanced evidence-based alternatives in public debates, though they elicit polarized responses: proponents credit causal realism in exposing manipulations, while detractors, often from credentialed but ideologically aligned sources, decry provocation sans consensus. This tension persists in cultural analyses, reinforcing Mora's influence on filmmakers prioritizing unvarnished inquiry amid orthodoxy's dominance.

Personal Life and Later Years

Family and Relationships

Philippe Mora was briefly married to Freya Mathews early in his adulthood, with whom he had a son, Rainer. He later married Pamela Krause Mora after meeting her at a dinner party in , with the union occurring soon thereafter. Mora and his second wife have two children together, including a daughter, Madeleine, named after his mother and noted for her artistic pursuits reminiscent of familial creative traditions. In total, the couple has raised three children, with the family emphasizing themes of resilience inherited from Mora's parental lineage of who exemplified endurance amid adversity. The family primarily resides in , while sustaining connections to through heritage and periodic returns, alongside earlier stays in during Mora's formative years abroad.

Residences and Ongoing Activities

Mora has resided primarily in , since establishing a base there in the 1980s, sharing the home with his wife and children. In 2017, he relocated within the area to 1400 Havenhurst Drive, where he continues to live. Despite his Los Angeles-centered life, Mora maintains strong familial and cultural connections to , periodically returning for events linked to his heritage in Melbourne's art scene. These ties sustain his engagement with Australian cultural institutions, including contributions to historical narratives on the city's bohemian past through family-focused writings. Into his mid-70s, Mora remains active in creative pursuits, continuing to paint as a core practice alongside documentary filmmaking. In August 2024, he participated in a lengthy interview revisiting his career, and as of that time, he was developing a hybrid documentary, The Dawn of , examining the origins of mass violence. This output reflects sustained productivity, including public appearances such as a 2023 retrospective of his films in .

References

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