He
is an outlaw named Kelly from Australia, but his circumstances are entirely
different from those of old Ned. Based on the historical figure of Wilaberta
Jack, Sam Kelly will kill a white man in self-defense. It is entirely
justifiable, but this is Central Australia in 1920, so Kelly immediately takes
flight. His fictionalized treatment becomes the stuff of a revisionist Australian
Western in Warwick Thornton’s Sweet
Country (trailer
here),
which opens this Friday in New York.
When
Fred Smith talks about God and his Christian faith, he really means it. That is
why Sam and Lizzie Kelly really are fortunate to work for him. Regrettably,
Smith’s new neighbor, Harry March, a WWI veteran suffering from PTSD, is not so
enlightened. He cynically exploits Smith’s Christian charity, guilting him into
loaning Sam and Lizzie to help whip his station into working order. Unbeknownst
to Sam, March will act in a predatory manner towards Lizzie and then dismiss
them from his property. The next time they encounter each other, March is
shooting up the absent Smith’s farmhouse, accusing the Kellys of harboring a
young runaway aboriginal station hand, loaned to him by the exploitative Mick
Kennedy.
Old
Sam has little choice but to blast a load of buckshot into March. Having no
faith in the white Crown’s justice, Sam and Lizzie head out into the wild
country. Inevitably, the hard-charging Sergeant Fletcher forms a posse with
Kennedy and the reluctant Smith to give chase. However, many of the town’s poor
white rabble will be surprised by the professionalism of circuit court Judge Taylor.
Sweet Country would be something
like an Australian fusion of Chato’s Land
and To Kill a Mockingbird, if it
were not so conscious of its own social significance. Thornton lays it on heavy
and never passes up an opportunity for a teaching moment. Yet, response to the
film will likely be particularly divisive because of his idiosyncratic practice
of flashing forward to briefly depict a character’s most significant moment,
either when they are first introduced or at times of extreme stress. Although it
is initially disorienting, it gives the film a really distinctive vibe over the
long run.
It
is also intriguing to watch how Thornton observes and subverts Western cinema
conventions. He certainly addresses the film’s moral issues in stark black-and-white
terms, but it should be noted Smith is an entirely sympathetic and empathetic
character and the grizzled Sgt. Fletcher evolves in intriguingly ambiguous
ways.
The
fact that Smith and Fletcher are played by two of Oceania’s most recognizable
thesps, Sam Neil and Bryan Brown, certainly will not hurt the film’s prospects.
Neil is particularly engaging and ultimately quite poignant as the decent
Smith. Indeed, it is quite refreshing to see a devout Christian treated with
such respect in a film. Likewise, Matt Day’s portrayal of the judge is
intriguingly messy. He has his moments, both good and bad. Yet, it is the nonprofessional
Aboriginal actors Hamilton Morris and Gibson John, who really power the film,
as the taciturn Kelly and the more ingratiating Archie (just Archie, he says),
Kennedy’s foreman, who serves as the posse’s tracker.
Both
Thornton’s style and his conspicuous manipulations can be distracting, but his
boldness earns the viewer’s respect. It is uneven, but it successfully differentiates itself from the scores of
international Western riffs. Recommended on balance for fans of socially
conscious revisionist Westerns, Sweet
Country opens this Friday (4/6) in New York, at the IFC Center.
