Stranger than fiction
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LIKE many a cultural commentator who was creeping around in the ’80s and ’90s, I’ve grumbled in the past about the demise of the friendly neighbourhood video store.
Shelf after shelf of new releases, cult classics and masterpieces of yesteryear, all there for the taking. (Well, borrowing.) Seriously, we didn’t know how good we had it.
The more things change, however, the more they stay the same. And while the majority of video stores have closed their doors for the final time, there is a replacement available.
It’s streaming services like Netflix, of course, offering a large and diverse array of programming to anyone with a subscription and a steady internet connection.
Not to mention the added benefit of not having to leave the couch, let alone the house – a big bonus as the weather gradually (eventually?) takes a turn for the chillier.
Netflix has firmly gripped the public’s imagination over the past couple of years by augmenting the movies and TV series in its immense library with its own productions.
The likes of Stranger Things, Orange is the New Black and House of Cards have proven addictive enough to bring the term “bingewatching” into the vernacular.
But sometimes you may feel yourself in the mood for something stranger than fiction. And like any good video store, Netflix has range.
There are documentaries for days on this particular service, many of which explore some truly fascinating topics in depth over multiple episodes.
The true-crime tale Making a Murderer was one such show that captured the public’s imagination, but a few lowerprofile titles have recently caught my eye.
Dirty Money tells six different true stories of unchecked greed and corporate misbehaviour from the world of big business — and it’s enough to make you start plotting a revolution against the 1 per cent.
Flint Town, which documents the hard times currently experienced by the people living in the American city of Flint, beset by a high crime rate, dwindling resources and a poisonous water supply, is equally infuriating but also eyeopening and enlightening.
And while it’s a stand-alone film, not a multi-episode series, the Oscar-winning documentary Icarus — in which some harmless questions about performanceenhancing drugs spiral into something far-reaching and shocking — is spellbinding stuff.
For something that’ll grab you by the collar and prompt you to binge all six episodes, though, look no further than Wild Wild Country, the true story of a religious community — you may want to call it a cult, if you’re so inclined — that preached peace, love and freedom, but was willing to use any means necessary to get what it wanted.
It follows the rise of the Rajneeshees, perhaps better known to Australians of a certain vintage as the Orange People (because, well, they wore a lot of orange).
If you were around in 1985, and were watching Nine’s current affairs program 60 Minutes, you were probably one of the many people scandalised by Orange People secretary and spokeswoman Ma Anand Sheela responding to a comment about dismay over the growing influence of the Rajneeshees with a brusque “Tough titties”.
Well, Sheela is all over Wild Wild Country, both in archival footage and a present-day interview and, as the show demonstrates, “Tough titties” was her being nice.
Sheela was the frontwoman for guru Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, whose philosophy combined the spiritual elements so appealing in the 1970s, the financial prosperity so in vogue in the 1980s and the free-love part that’s a big hit any old time.
The original Rajneeshee community set up in India was so popular with followers who flocked there from all over the world, including Australia, that establishing a new location soon became a necessity. And 250 square kilometres outside the tiny American town of Antelope in Oregon seemed to fit the bill.
It would be spoiling the twists and turns of Wild Wild Country to disclose what happened next, but let’s just say the Orange People felt offended or disrespected — and they didn’t really believe in turning the other cheek.