My introduction to Leonie Naughton involved a high degree of confusion and mistaken identity. In my first week at La Trobe University in 1988, wide-eyed, curious and quietly confident about studying film because I had invested many hours ‘researching’ classical Hollywood film with Bill Collins on channel 10 at midday, I had signed up to a class led by Leonie, but when I was ushered into my first tutorial, I found a substitute tutor. In the maelstrom of new signs, schedules, and due to the spatial dislocation of unfamiliar classrooms and buildings in that first week, I thought that I had landed in the wrong class, with the wrong teacher and possibly even in the wrong discipline.
Once tutorials with Leonie began, my preconceived notions of studying cinema were challenged and I quickly came to realize that I knew little about film. She equipped us with the language and allowed us to imagine that we possessed the secrets to help unravel the mysteries of even the most obscure narrative form. Then she blew our minds by introducing the dark, magical aesthetic of German Expressionism, the eccentricities of French poststructuralist theory (particularly through the writing of Roland Barthes) and by suggesting pathways into the seemingly incoherent filmic narration inspired by Alain Robbe-Grillet. In those days smoking was allowed in class and we puffed away happily during debates about Freudian symbolism, oblivious to the health issues, barely registering the irony.
After my Honours year, I was given an opportunity to tutor for Leonie at Monash University. I learned a lot about communication and teaching merely by observing her example. She had a very specific way of attracting and capturing the attention of the students, whilst introducing the key concepts of film analysis and theory. In particular, her deconstruction and intensive close analysis of the various impressions of masculinity depicted in the evolution of Brad Pitt’s screen persona is just one example of Leonie’s innovative teaching strategies that held students in thrall.
Just the other day, a student completing her undergraduate degree told me of her proposal for her Honours research project. She wants to write on German cinema, post unification. Immediately I sent her off to find Leonie’s book in the library, spelling her surname carefully. For students who might not have had an opportunity to learn from her directly, Leonie’s legacy will be accessible in her exemplary research. For my generation of aspiring academics who worked with her, Leonie’s presence has informed and continues to inspire our teaching and research.
Leonie lived close by and occasionally we would ride the 96 tram together on our way into the city. We‘d talk about new directions in research and I was interested to hear that she had written a book on avatars, virtual romance and the Internet. Not long ago, I noticed Leonie from the window of the tram as she stood on the corner with her boyfriend. She gave him a kiss, ruffled his hair playfully and said something that made them both smile as they went off in different directions. When I pass her tram stop now, I catch myself looking out for her. It’s difficult to comprehend that she is not going to be there.
Wendy Haslem
Screen Studies Program,
University of Melbourne.
Created on: Thursday, 19 December 2007