I’ve seen the revolution of the world,
I’ve been there,
I know what’s happening, but I’m peaceful here
In multi award-winning Journey Home, David Gulpilil (2025) – importantly rescreened during 2026 NAIDOC week [1] and with SBS on Demand currently showcasing the enduring cinematic legacy of Gulpilil and “bringing powerful Indigenous stories to life through film, performance, and filmmaking” [2] – highly accomplished veteran filmmakers Maggie Miles and Trisha Morton-Thomas literally cover miles as they gracefully and unobtrusively capture the “profound repatriation spanning more than 4,000 kilometres” [3] of the legendary actor [4] in a documentary feat where the visually arresting narrative culminates in a stunningly poetic commentary that pays homage to a man larger than life.
The voice of his people and a pioneering Aboriginal screen icon, Gulpilil carried immense weight professionally and in relation to the historical burdens and struggles endured by the Yolngu (or Yolŋu) people [5] in north-east Arnhem land. [6]
David Gulpilil (1953-2021) ultimately became a spokesperson for all of us. A remarkably versatile man, he led the way forward throughout as an actor, an advocate, and an agent in his own right. He carved out his career from a young age, headhunted by a Nicolas Roeg swayed by Gulpilil’s dancing skills, and built a solid cinematic repertoire that would take him from North to South and across borders. And back.
Always looking back yet looking ahead, David Gulpilil understood the inherent connection between past, present and future; his eyes fixed on what truly mattered. Mind over matter. Firmly anchored in and dedicated to his homeland, Gulpilil lived with a divided heart, was celebrated across the world and embraced an experience that became a lifestyle, yet he remained true and faithful to his roots throughout.
In his final journey of all journeys and closing his own perfectly circular narrative, in line with his plans and wishes this globetrotter and nomad found peace in his final resting place among his own people. From Walkabout to Hollywood (1980) and back again [7] – home is where the heart is. David Gulpilil’s home was and will forever be a spiritually transformative, deeply transcendent land and country unto its own whose people lead by example.
What follows is my interview with Maggie Miles and Phoebe Marson Gulpilil, who keeps the legacy of her father alive and honours him by his individual totemistic name through Djarkka Consulting – a “First-Nations run consultancy” in Melbourne that carries out important policymaking through developing culturally informed strategies and governance frameworks that align organisational goals with cultural values, strengthen cultural safety, and deliver lasting impact across communities, systems and projects.
I was deeply honoured to meet them both in person on 18 August. Our conversation focused on Miles and Morton-Thomas’ extraordinary documentary, which brought to fruition David Gulpilil’s final wish to tell his story through to the end, as expressed in his prior final creative endeavour and ode to life and what lies beyond: My name is Gulpilil (Molly Reynolds, 2021).
We reflected on the profound themes of (multiple) journeying, storytelling, identity, grief and homecoming, as well as the transformative power of documentary filmmaking. Central to our discussion was the importance of establishing trust – essential in creating the space for this deeply personal story to be told. [8]
David Gulpilil’s final return to Arnhem Land became the focus of Journey Home, David Gulpilil. What did that journey reveal to you about belonging, home, and the importance of returning to where a story began – or a circle coming to a close?
[MM]: “How long have we got? [laughs]. I always say it’s hard to know when the journey started because there are so many stories that have folded into the bigger story as we’ve been making this film. And I remember Jida [son], after we’d started filming with Witiyana at the send-off in Murray Bridge where Phoebe was present, hoping that Jida would be comfortable so that we could carry on documenting the process, he said, ‘well this is what my father always wanted’. I was queried about that with someone in an interview; ‘[d]idn’t you start?, didn’t it already happen, didn’t he already want it…?’. Yeah, but it’s kind of cyclic so who knows when the permission first started.” And she speaks about her long friendship with “beautiful Witiyana Marika – the ceremonial leader in Murray Bridge who had promised David that when the time came, he would start kicking off his journey, so to speak.” That connection began in the 1990s and “led to my involvement as we were connected through another film and he asked for some help to document it.” Miles stresses that the seasonal conditions had to be right “so that David could be buried as per his wish on his homeland at Gupulul.” The right family members had to be approached for discussion and the correct protocol be followed.
[PMG]: “It’s strange because it’s such a long story that went through so many different pathways to where we are now. Like that big, long journey of him being a movie star and then being really quiet when he wasn’t well at the end. And then I just remember sitting with him and all he wanted to do was just go back home. And he knew that couldn’t happen.”[9]
“It’s weird thinking about the closing of the chapter, it’s hard for me to think about it. [Journey Home, David Gulpilil and the Bäpurru funeral rites are] done in such a beautiful way; that whole journey and everything just happens how it’s meant to happen. [And] I have a different relationship with him now.”
Please elaborate?
“I had never lost anyone really close to me and was really nervous about that complete loss and separation. But then you just know that they’re around and that they’re looking out for you and I’m not alone all the time. So, it’s not as final as I thought, because it still continues.”
That’s beautiful. How important is ‘storytelling’ in creating a documentary like this?
[MM]: Yes, that was the focus for the storytelling – to get this duality and it was really powerful for me to contemplate as well because [in the midst of grief] there’s an end, and death and a burial, and a homecoming, and a regeneration, and a fulfilment of a spiritual life cycle which enables the bigger life story to continue after we’ve all gone. And that was really quite astonishing.”
“And I’m reflecting on the Yolngu politician, Yinya Guyila, who is a member of the Northern Territory Parliament. And for him to speak in parliament about this very thing. He said, ‘[y]ou know, when I visited David at Murray Bridge, he said he wanted to go back, go back there to Gupulul. And I mean, I don’t know what reincarnation means, but he wants to go back there to the waterfall so his spirit can come to the waterhole and can come back later on.’ And that’s a profound thing for a member of parliament to say in the chambers. [10] And we took instructions from that, in a sense.”
Recognizing that she has been taken on a journey of her own, Miles adds: “And we were also guided by things that family members said about the journey of the spirit being different to the journey of the body as the literal form (… and the dreaming as well..). And that’s where this sense of time and cycles and dimensions of time all came together in a conceptual way as we ended up putting the film together.”
“Also, there is the closeness between the name Gulpilil and the name of the homeland, Gupulul. I mean that’s a whole story in itself.” [She refers to places like Marawuyu carrying both real and mythological connotations and says, “[t]his is how you learn: the interconnectedness between people, language, environment; everything that’s living. So that’s why you never quite get a straight answer, which I kind of love, because there is no one answer. And that’s what’s so confounding: to put something in a film for people who don’t know anything and try and keep it straightforward so people can follow, but at the same time express this extraordinary connectivity through culture and every other aspect of life.”
How did you manage to create such poetry in your film —narratively and in terms of music, imagery and atmosphere?
[MM]: “I think the best way to respond to that question is that when we were filming the main funeral, there were three of us filming – three cameras and sound. And we just filmed everything, everything we could get at. We looked at it day and night. It was frantic and extraordinary. Then we went through a process of learning. And I think that’s what the poetry speaks to. We had to then understand the material that we’d filmed … and the particular set of songs…”
And she talks about the logistics of it all, about taxing weather conditions, about needing to be flexible, about things happening slowly yet quickly at the same time, about making new decisions on the spur of the moment and the experience of collaborating with the local community and family members – “everybody immediately came to Peter’s house; a whole house packed with people. It was amazing and we showed clips and we learned about them and everybody talked about them… And one of the strongest songs was the Sugarbag honeybee [11] – and also, the [onomatopoetic] Marawuyu fish jumping – which was recorded at the funeral just with camera audio because our sound recordist had had to go by then and it was like being in the Royal Albert Hall out there on the land listening to these extraordinary harmonies and these layers and layers of song.
She learned that – and in that advice speaks to all of us: “Don’t just impose and try and be clever. Let us try and listen to the material and the material will guide us. If you think and feel that there’s a poetic nature to it then it comes from that..”
PMG importantly adds, in terms of letting images do their own talking: “There’s a thing about being around Yolngu people. They are absolute magic. All the time, every single one of them.” She adds that no matter if they’re in the city, when they’re back home or on country – “it’s just a part of it – which shines through in the filming. It’s overwhelming. /…/ I wonder if it’s because they have such old culture [12] and that connection to land and knowledge and all of it.”
“There’s so much that I don’t know because I grew up in the city. They’re connected to people, to the land, to dreaming, to all – everything. They’re so sure of themselves because they know who they are and where they stand and where they fit in and the whole family structure and how everything interconnects. There’s a meaning and a reason for everything – it’s complex yet it all links to basics.”
Thank you so much. That’s why non-indigenous people particularly from individualistic Western nations often appear to be and feel so lost. We don’t have that anchoring. In terms of the Yolngu people, it has been noted that “Yolŋu ways of diplomacy have been ancestrally placed and are currently practised by [their] people” and that “the concept of Mulka’ (comfort place) … underlies both the everyday and ceremonial practice of Yolŋu keeping people-places safe and comfortable.“ [13]
[PMG – speaking of trust]: “I feel like we’re very open people full of love, welcoming. I think that once you’re a good person, they know. They can see straight through you and tell if you’ve got good intentions. They teach you all these things and it’s just incredible. I look at my aunties, and they are not interested in the western Balanda world [or city life full of ineptitude, flaws and dangers] at all — But then there’s a lot of social issues and health issues that we’re sort of working on back in Arnhem Land because it’s been set up in a Western structure rather than a community structure.”
All this is addressed in Another Country (Molly Reynolds, 2015) narrated by David Gulpilil, which explores the tensions between Indigenous culture and Western society. The film intersects identity, cultural traditions and the damning effects of colonisation, revealing the stark contrasts between incompatible worlds – and a painful lack of understanding and respect towards the Yolngu people. [14] Language comes first: “No one from any government has ever known our language. How can they know us?” [15]
In Journey Home, David Gulpilil, Miles – who feels “so blessed in having been a part of telling this story” – demonstrates the awareness necessary for things to improve. Acknowledging that trust goes both ways, she refers to the aforementioned Yolngu kinship system (see footnote 8) and notes: “I think more broadly, particularly in a documentary where you’re working with the substance of other people’s stories and other people’s lives, you have a responsibility to keep checking in with them and to hold that material very carefully.”
David Gulpilil – whose presence keeps being felt through the silver screen – navigated multiple worlds throughout and always came back Home. His heart and soul yearned for community and authenticity, for stillness and the chance to return to the essence – and, with that, the winning way.
haiku
for longing
it has flown to me,
and it has given me hope;
it was his last gift
(Bebe Oliver)
Journey Home, David Gulpilil – The ‘Kingfisher’ returns to Country
Words: Dr Jytte Holmqvist
Images: Journey Home, David Gulpilil (film still) – photo by Allan Collins | Journey Home, David Gulpilil (film still) – photo by Allan Collins | Journey Home, David Gulpilil (film still) – photo by Allan Collins | Journey Home, David Gulpilil (film still) – photo by Clifton Chopper | Journey Home, David Gulpilil (film still) – photo by Anna Cadden
Footnotes:
[2] A special collection of 12 key films in his repertoire is being featured: www.sbs.com.au
[4] See: this comprehensive NITV coverage: www.youtube.com
[5] www.nationalgeographic.com
[6] Gulpilil was a member of the Mandhalpuyngu tribe; his traditional homeland at Marwuyu near the Arafura Swamp.
[8] The Yolngu community notably operates according to a specific kinship system which, depending on the level of trust, may extend to include also non-indigenous individuals: “Yolngu exist in a world quite unlike our own with a very different kinship structure to western society. Our relatives are our immediate, actual and extended blood relatives and marital relatives. We describe these family members by kin terms; about thirty of them, such as mother, daughter, cousin, nephew, grandfather, stepsister. We speak to and of them by personal names and some of these kin terms, depending upon how ‘close’ or ‘distant’ we are related and to whom we may be speaking.” (www.visiteastarnhem.com.au) // “By ‘adopting’ Balanda into families, Yolngu feel comfortable about how to behave towards them and how to communicate on a daily basis. Even though they know little about each other it codifies behaviour within the community”: (www.manikay.com)
[9] David Gulpillil was diagnosed with stage-four lung cancer in 2017 and stoically survived for another four years while undergoing treatment at Murray Bridge, South Australia. See: www.abc.net.au
[10] Notably, Yinya Guyila just resigned from his post in a surprise move that reverberates across the nation and that sends a stark message – we have not come a long way: www.youtube.com See also: www.abc.net.au and www.sbs.com.au
[11] See this interview with composer David Bridie: www.apraamcos.com.au as well as www.researchgate.net
[12] The Yolngu culture has been “regarded as oldest surviving culture on the planet”: www.echo.net.au
[13] Waṉambi, G., Bulkanhawuy, J., Gumbula, I. M., Muthamuluwuy, B., & Hayashi, Y. (2023). Yolŋu diplomacy. Australian Journal of International Affairs, 77(6), 600–605. www.doi.org
[14] “At the beginning of last century the Australian Government, along with entrepreneurs, opportunists and do-gooders, made a concerted effort to gain control of the lands of the Yolngu people across northern Arnhem Land, along the central part of northern Australia. The long succession of would-be cattle barons, missionaries and government agents failed to dispossess the Yolngu of their lands, but the introduction of their new ways and different laws succeeded in eroding the heart of a complex culture that was once strong, defiant and self-sufficient.” www.kanopy.com
[15] His words echo the declaration that “[l]anguage is more than a way to express an idea. Language is a means of communicating culture built on a unique vision of the world”: www.gpsa.org.au