It's early 2000, and Reg Mombassa has had an eventful start to the Millennium. He’d parted with his employer of 23 years, prolific Aussie chart-toppers, Mental as Anything. And now the guitarist was snowed under with his latest project ... a little thing called the Sydney Olympics 2000 closing ceremony.
‘David Atkins briefed me, and said we needed to have a “party mood”,’ says award-winning theatrical designer, Brian Thomson, who’d worked on productions such as The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. He'd last worked with the Mentals on their Let’s Go to Paradise clip. ‘So we were making it an Australian party — suburban dreams, suburban nightmare. I was such a fan of Reg’s art.’ Reg had made a name for himself in two completely different styles: charcoal-outlined fine art landscapes, and surreal suburban Aussie graphic creations such as Australian Jesus with Golden Motorbike. Weird shit.
But it was the vomiting chickens on the cover of Mental as Anything's Let's Go to Paradise single, pictured below, which hooked the eye of surfwear label owner, Dare Jennings, of Mambo, who enjoyed such edginess.
(Image courtesy of Reg Mombassa.)
Reg's whacky and weird designs went the analogue-equivalent of viral on T-shirts and tea-towels thanks to Mambo.
Brian contacted Reg about working together on the Olympics, who was initially skeptical. ‘The Olympics is a fairly conservative body and it may not be a good thing,’ Reg says. He is quietly spoken in real life, but outspoken through his artwork.
‘Reg showed me his sketchbooks at his studio,' says Brian, 'and we took a few of those away and turned them into inflatables. Reg was there for the whole journey from a two-inch tall drawing to a seven or eight-metre figure.’
‘‘It was a big job,’ Reg says. ‘I would’ve been working on that for a good year or so before.’ Because, not only was it bringing his figures to life, there were also some stages to design. Originally, Brian had in mind to have AC/DC and the BeeGees play. “International acts,’ he says, ‘although I hate that word. So not the Mentals and not the Hoodoo Gurus.’ Reg designed a set for Acca Dacca, the main design feature being lightbulbs and electricity.
‘But they thought it wasn’t heavy enough, a bit light,’ he says.
In fact Brian tells me the problem was both 'international' bands insisted on being the headliners. So both were scrapped. Instead there was a parade of icons with Slim Dusty, Dame Edna (who wanted to be escorted by a Y2K Monster), and Kylie Minogue, who Brian had long wanted to work with. Plus Men at Work, INXS, Barnsey, Midnight Oil playing. The Oils would use Reg’s original stage design.
‘Reg was worried Peter Garrett might see the lightbulb design as a reflection of the shape of his bald head,’ laughs Brian.
Because the Closing Ceremony was something of a poor cousin to the elaborate Opening Ceremony, there was never a rehearsal inside the stadium itself. Reg: ‘The day before, they did a walk around, somewhere near Smithfield. And one of my things was scrubbed because one of the volunteers pushing it around objected to it on religious grounds or something.’
‘The Beer Monster had a beer-tap cock,’ guffaws Brian. ‘So it got cut. We found that a little bit amusing.’
Then came the big night: the Olympic Stadium was decked out in Hills Hoists, like a massive Aussie backyard. Or a Mentals film clip. Brian turned up, wearing his Mambo shirt. ‘Reg turned up in the evening — we had fabulous seats.’ And then the weather chucked a hissy fit. Gusting wildly. But the show had to go on because 110,000 people sat expectantly in the stands, with a further three hundred million tuning in on TVs in 220 countries around the world.
The Oils made a global political statement wearing black T-shirts with “SORRY” on the front as they blasted through Beds are Burning. All the while Brian and Reg were casting an eye over to their massive dirigibles: a 50m long Football Serpent with a Holden head, and Frankenstein’s Kangaroo Monster which was carrying the Harbour Bridge. ‘Then I was told the decahedron was damaged in transit. I was devastated — oh fuck!’ says Brian, feeling his career slipping down the gurgler. ‘Dresses flew off the Kewpie Dolls. A state of complete panic! Let’s go find a drink.’
Off he charged, Reg in tow. Reaching a VVIP area, he turned his lanyard back-to-front and charged in. ‘I saw Dawn Fraser, who I knew, Henry Kissinger, the King of Tonga, and Juan Samaranch, the president of the Olympics.’ Several champagnes were skulled. ‘Then I looked down, and saw the decahedron rise and then fall again. Oh dear!’ More champagne, nurse.
Reg meantime had bumped into Elle McPherson. The Body. ‘I remember thinking she was a little bit weird,’ he says. (What she made of him is not known.)
The winds continued to gust, resulting in the cancellation of yet another part of Reg’s show. ‘There was a huge fibreglass blowfly, big as a truck, which was gonna be on wires coming across to this BBQ and Jimmy Barnes was going to swat it as he sang Working Class Man. They didn’t do it because of the wind.’
Still there were gigantic beach balls with all-seeing eyes, inflatable suburban houses, thongs (flip-flops to non-Aussies), and giant dancing feet parading to a soundtrack which included Bananas in Pyjamas, Sherbet's Howzat, the Jaws theme, and Icehouse's Great Southern Land.
The Washington Post ran a headline: “Macy’s Parade on LSD.” (Presumably they were referring to the American Thanksgiving Parade and not the Melbourne pub Macy's where Greedy Smith wrote Too Many Times!)
‘Hahaha! That’s what it had to become,’ laughs Brian Thomson. 'Fair enough! I just wanted to know that we were going to be on the front page of the New York Times. What’s the image that’s going to go around the world?’ Certainly one that stuck in his mind is when he dropped down to his makeshift office under the grandstand to find world-beating sprinter Cathy Freeman sitting there: ‘I don’t know how I’m going to get home' the newly-minted global superstar said.
So, um, Mr Thomson, was any actual LSD involved in the creation of this production? ‘No LSD — but a lot of grog, hahaha!’
And how did Reg feel about this? ‘A bit disappointed because some of the big things couldn’t go up. But I still thought, This is a big deal. I’m never overwhelmed by these things, so you always take it as it comes. I think, This is happening — it’s good. It was the biggest one-man art show in history.’ He allows himself a satisfied grin at last. ‘I was afraid to be asked, and pleased that it was over in a way. Like going to the dentist. Relief that you’ve done it.’
I keep probing Reg on how that felt to have his art on show to hundreds of millions? ’Look, I was pleased,’ he finally says, deploying his usual “emotional compression” foot-pedal to max.
Even if the whole world got a real buzz out of it -- with or without the blowfly.
Reg Mombassa plays with Dog Trumpet and you can see some of his art here.
Stuart Lloyd is the author of 19 non-fiction books, including the official Mental as Anything biography, Started Out Just Drinking Beer (now available in print, ebook and audiobook).
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