Filmmaker Poppy Stockell embarked on creating the documentary John Farnham: Finding the Voice, a deep dive into the life of an Australian music legend, without ever meeting its enigmatic subject. The film, rich with archival footage spanning Farnham’s journey from a young boy to a teenage heartthrob and finally, an iconic stadium performer, initially proceeded without his direct involvement. John Farnham, fiercely private, only offered a brief, understated narration, facilitated by Gaynor Martin, the wife of his longtime manager and friend Glenn Wheatley, who gently persuaded him to allow the film’s creation. However, as Stockell connected with Farnham’s close circle – the Wheatley family, his sons Rob and James, and his wife Jillian – word filtered back to Farnham that Stockell was, in his words, “alright.”
Months later, a surprising call came through to Stockell. The intensely private John Farnham, a cornerstone of Australian music, had decided to pen a memoir, and he wanted Stockell to collaborate with him. Having dedicated years to immersing herself in his life for the documentary, Stockell finally met ‘The Voice’ himself at his Victoria home. There he was, ready to open up in his armchair and share his story.
However, this newfound willingness to talk coincided with an unprecedented personal battle. In late 2022, John Farnham received a diagnosis of mouth cancer and underwent extensive surgery, which included the removal of his bottom teeth and scraping of his jawbone. “I was told later that someone from the medical team called Jillian a couple of times while I was in theatre – apparently I was very close to dying,” he reveals in his memoir. His ordeal didn’t end there; while recovering, he fractured his back, necessitating another hospital stay. Subsequent radiotherapy treatment further challenged him, diminishing his appetite and causing his weight to plummet to a mere 63kg.
When Poppy Stockell and John Farnham finally sat down face-to-face, as captured in a photograph promoting his memoir The Voice Inside, she encountered a man who had been through immense hardship but remained resolute. Despite the physical challenges, his spirit was undimmed. “Sometimes he would have a giggle and then wince because he’d stretched his mouth and the scarring made it hard. But he’d want to keep going,” Stockell recounts. She describes him as a “workhorse,” likening him to a boxer who perseveres relentlessly. “He was often really perky. He can be silly, he’s really fun,” she adds, offering a glimpse into the personality of the Australian icon beyond his public persona.
The cancer diagnosis, Farnham admits, “gutted” him. A particularly devastating consequence is the potential end of his singing career. The surgery’s impact on his mouth means he may never sing again in the way fans across Australia and the world have come to adore. “My facial disfigurement from the surgery means I can’t open my mouth wide enough for a strip of spaghetti, let alone to sing a top C. At this stage I can’t get the movement to make the sounds I want to make, and that’s where the vibrations and my voice come from. It’s still a very disconcerting thing. And trying hurts.” This candid admission reveals the profound impact of his health struggles on his identity as a singer.
Yet, hope remains. The radiation treatment thankfully hasn’t damaged his vocal cords, fueling a flicker of optimism. The man who gave Australia anthems like “You’re the Voice” is not giving up on his passion. He continues to try, stating, “I can barely open my mouth but I still wail in the shower.” This resilience underscores the fighting spirit that has defined John Farnham’s career and life.
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Farnham engaged in extensive conversations with Stockell, totaling approximately 50 hours over several months. He confessed to watching her documentary “through his fingers,” a testament to his discomfort with self-promotion and intense scrutiny. Stockell jokes, “In some ways, I feel like I know his life better than he does now.” His positive reaction to the documentary was crucial, as Farnham felt Stockell truly “got him.” “There’s no way I would have been a part of the book if I hadn’t made the film,” she acknowledges, highlighting the documentary as the foundational step in gaining Farnham’s trust.
During their fourth meeting, a significant moment of trust was established. Stockell recalls Farnham looking her “straight in the eyes and said, ‘OK, I trust you’.” The memoir delves into deeply personal and sometimes painful memories, creating an emotional journey for both Farnham and Stockell. “We both cried heaps, but we laughed a lot too,” Stockell shares. She admires his vulnerability, noting it as a shared trait between them.
The memoir promises to chart the dazzling highs of his career, peppered with captivating anecdotes. From Australian Prime Minister Bob Hawke shedding tears with him at his citizenship ceremony to Princess Diana expressing admiration for his leather pants, and even a humorous encounter with Raquel Welch at the 1989 Logies, where he politely declined her advances citing his wife’s veto, the book offers glimpses into the extraordinary life of John Farnham Australia has embraced.
However, The Voice Inside also confronts periods of significant pain and adversity in John Farnham’s life. It revisits the challenging years following his early pop hit “Sadie the Cleaning Lady,” a time when he felt pigeonholed and struggled to be taken seriously as an artist. He describes feeling like a “pretty-boy puppet.” The lack of work in the 1970s became so severe that he had to rely on credit at local stores to provide groceries for his family. His tenure as the frontman of Little River Band is portrayed as an unhappy chapter, fraught with “undercurrents of animosity, jealousy and petty peeves.” The memoir further explores the bleak period preceding his monumental comeback album Whispering Jack, the highest-selling album in Australia, during which he battled depression and feared his musical aspirations were over. John Farnham’s journey is far from a simple success story; it’s a narrative of perseverance through significant lows.
Perhaps the most emotionally taxing aspect of creating the memoir was revisiting his entry into the music industry as a young, naive teenager. Stockell describes the industry as “very predatory.” She recounts the emotional toll on Farnham, “John would turn up after some sessions and say, ‘I didn’t sleep at all.’ He’d have pretty bad nightmares after we spoke about certain things.” Navigating these sensitive memories required careful handling. “Several times he’d rush through periods, and I’d have to gently take him back, without torturing him. It’s tricky – [as a memoirist] you’re wearing a few hats and probably some you’re not really qualified to wear.” This highlights the delicate balance Stockell had to strike as both biographer and confidante.
“I don’t enjoy talking about myself, I really don’t,” Farnham confesses in the memoir’s opening lines. Yet, Stockell believes the process, though difficult, ultimately proved cathartic for the Australian music icon. “He’d grumble about having to talk about himself, as he’s not that kind of a guy, but I think he did [enjoy it]. It was also hard going over a lot of what’s been. There’s some complex emotions there – shame, guilt. So it wasn’t easy, but I think it was ultimately cathartic.” This suggests a journey of self-discovery and healing through the act of sharing his life story.
Among Australia’s most cherished songwriters – alongside names like Jimmy Barnes, Peter Garrett, and Paul Kelly – John Farnham stands out as one of the last to share his life story in a memoir. He has remained intensely private for decades, making this memoir a highly anticipated event for fans across John Farnham Australia and globally. “He’s very private,” Stockell reiterates. She reflects on the surprising nature of his untold story, “But I also think, for so long we thought of him as a dag, so this cracking story has just been sitting in front of us and hasn’t been really told before. I was like, ‘Oh my God. How did this come to me? Twice?’” This underscores the sense of privilege and surprise Stockell felt in being chosen to help Farnham share his narrative.
And John Farnham’s own verdict on the memoir? With typical Aussie humor, “He went, ‘You spelled my brother’s name wrong!’” Stockell laughs. She understands the vulnerability inherent in sharing such a personal story, “I’m just giving him time. He’s probably biting his fingernails, worried about how it’s all going to be received. Actually, I know he is. But I also know that that comes from a lifetime of being exposed. You really don’t want to be famous.” This concluding anecdote brings a touch of levity and humanity to the story, reminding readers of the very real person behind the iconic voice, John Farnham of Australia.
