COMMENTS AND TASTERS

 

 

About the biography

• Novelist Alex Miller, twice winner of the prestigious Miles Franklin Award for Australian literature, wrote: It is a work of great cultural significance and high literary merit.

• Elspeth Ballantyne, warder Meg Morris in Prisoner and Sheila’s long-term friend, said: I bought the book as a kind of duty to the memory of Sheila. But I simply couldn’t put it down. Helen, you really got her. You captured her in all her moods and complexity.

• Scott, the twenty-something TV producer on Bert Newton’s Good Morning Australia, commented: What a great read. It was as much a page turner as ‘The Da Vinci Code’.

Friends remember a ‘bonza Sheila’

Sheila’s last birthday party – desperately ill and still full of life

Roland Rocchiccioli, concerning Sheila’s enormous popularity: “There I would be,” she once said (tending her beloved garden in front of her house). “With a hat pulled down over my eyes, bending over, with my backside pointing to the road, and cars driving by would shout out, ‘G’day Lizzie!’ They even recognized my arse!”

Colette Mann: She could be so funny. Sometimes the Prisoner scriptwriters gave us ridiculous scenes, and if she was in the mood she would play it so over the top she had us in fits of giggling. At other times she would turn on the script like a death adder and state, “What rubbish. I’m not doing that.” But I mainly remember how much she taught me about acting.

Fiona Spence: She was a big character, a life force. There was nothing grey about Sheila. She went in boots and all. But all her life she was extremely loyal to the people she loved.

 

AND TO GIVE YOU A TASTER, HERE ARE SOME EXCERPTS FROM THE BOOK

Aged ten - a swift and daring convent girl
The nuns gently urged their pupils towards self-restraint. Sheila tried. She did her best to sit properly with her back straight and her knees together, to be docile and ladylike. But it was hard and sometimes Sheila could not help herself. She had an irresistible urge to test her limits, and the limits of her caring guardians. For instance she desperately wanted to see what would happen if she ran away from the dreaded ruler. She was often sent to receive a smack so the opportunity came soon enough. Class by class, the girls broke ranks and rushed to the windows to watch her race around the schoolyard. She set the whole school laughing, especially when she outsmarted her pursuer by vaulting over the tennis net. She had to meet her punishment eventually but the fun had been worth it….

A lover of parties, even during the war years in England
The blackout every night as well as the long working hours meant that night-time diversions were limited. But Sheila and like-minded Phyl made their own entertainment, often partying with the soldiers from a nearby camp who were frequent visitors. Sheila in her twenties was gorgeous and sexy. She was also impulsive. By nature she lived in a way others only learnt to do in these uncertain times—for the day, moment by moment, on the edge. War had blown apart the usual order of things, and as for sexual boundaries….

Hamming it up with Frank Thring in the jinxed Scottish play
In February 1962 Sheila gained a lead role in Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Traditionally thespians have approached this play of witchcraft, murder and moral descent with trepidation. Many will not even mention it by name in any theatre and call it ‘the Scottish play’ or ‘that Scottish play’. Sheila’s old mate and party rival, Frank Thring, back from a stint in movie epics, played the title role. She played his wife. It is a remarkable role for an actress and soon Sheila was living with Lady Macbeth day and night. Philip watched in surprise as his mother cooked with her script beside her and a wig with long black plaits on her head. He had never seen her do that sort of thing before.
The costumes replicated tenth-century dress, the time of the historical Macbeth, and to save on costs in this age of shoestring theatre they were made of hessian and fake fur. Sheila’s niece Pamela watched the production from the front row. She was amazed at how much Macbeth spat over Sheila as he emoted, and wondered how her aunt could put up with it. Frank Thring did get on Sheila’s nerves, in part because he was always fussing about how he looked in his uncomfortable makeshift costume. She fixed her annoyance on one thing—his nail polish, saying it spoiled the play’s authenticity. It was only clear polish but he refused to remove it. Sheila snapped, rather unfairly because Frank had not changed, ‘I think he’s forgotten he isn’t hamming it up in Hollywood now.’


Sheila as Lady Macbeth, Union Theatre, Melbourne 1962

Fainting her way out of tight corners
Sheila loved showing off to her retinue of friends in Prisoner. She would expose them to the full power of her voice. She demonstrated how even in her sixties she could still get her leg up and behind her head yoga style. She showed them how real actors should faint or fall down dead. The others egged her on. A new person would come down to the Tunnel and they would say, ‘Go on Sheila. Do it again. Show so and so…’ And she obliged, although she was way past her prime.
She had developed her talent for realistic faints and death drops back in the Raleigh Place days in the 1950s. Sometimes she did it as a party trick, but frequently it was to get out of a tight corner. She attended young Barry Humphries’ farewell party at his parents’ home before he left Melbourne to seek his fame and fortune. After a long delay, Sheila saw Edna Everage descending the stairs dressed in suburban finery—in those days ‘she’ was closer to the original housewife model and less of an extravaganza.
‘Oh, there you are at last, you silly bugger!’ Sheila cried full volume. But it was not Barry. It was a woman who looked rather like him as Edna—his mother or perhaps an aunt. Sheila stopped in embarrassment. Then she conveniently fainted. And so her faux pas was forgotten.

The AFI award as Sheila’s finale
Sheila recorded an interview from her hospital bed for the ABC television’s 7.30 Report. She was asked about Prisoner of course. Sheila summed it up with her familiar irony, and a subtle admission perhaps of what she had made of her life. ‘It’s a bit of a contradiction. And you can say that again, slowly. I set out from Australia aged nineteen with every intention of becoming the world’s greatest Shakespearean actress and ended up as Lizzie Birdsworth, the shearers’ poisoner, fifty-five years later. Oh, my god…’ It was an effort for her to find enough breath to laugh, but she did.
Nevertheless the climax of Sheila’s life, in all of its heroics and drama, assumed Shakespearean proportions. On Thursday 3 October 1991 – just one week before her death - the Australian Film Institute held its gala award night at the Sydney Opera House. Philip flew up to represent his mother and, he hoped, to receive the prestigious Best Actress in a Leading Role award for her feisty character Martha in A Woman’s Tale….


Sheila and Paul Cox, director of ‘A Woman’s Tale’

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