Sometimes, a well-delivered idea means more than an original one. Coming across the same kinds of stories, told through the same kinds of perspectives, is bound to happen by sheer probability once you’ve sat through enough movies. And sure, seeing something that breaks away from the norm can be a good thing… but as I learnt last year with The Empty Man, raw ingenuity doesn’t always win against refined craftsmanship. And with this Aussie effort, we have a quite familiar story, but it’s told in such gripping fashion that the déjà vu fails to become an issue.
A murder mystery set in rural Victoria, the film’s setting adds a lot to the thematic chew of the larger story. Specifically set in dusty farmland that hasn’t seen rain fall in nearly a year, the way Stefan Duscio captures the desolate and sunburnt bleakness of the town of Kiewarra creates a sensation where the landscape on its own is a visual representation of the people within it. A dried-out, damn-near-close-to-lifeless patch that is so starved of what is needed to sustain a happy life that all it would take is a single spark of tragedy to set the whole thing off. And what’s more, this town had already suffered that spark, and it’s the presence of another in a recent murder-suicide that brings federal detective Aaron Falk (Eric Bana in a thankful return to his local roots, if not necessarily his genre come-up) back to his hometown.
Intercutting between Falk’s past as a rumour-driven suspect in a young girl’s death, and his present investigating the circumstances of the more recent deaths, the story fits in with the typical murder mystery formula. A lot of monologues from the locals about their connections to the deceased and to each other, plenty of secrets get unearthed that may or may not even have anything to do with the deaths themselves, and a prevailing sense that no one can be trusted, not even Falk himself. It strikes a good Gone Girl-esque balance between highlighting the treatment he cops as a result of past actions/inactions, while also letting the possibility of his guilt slowly creep in alongside it.
The performances across the board are very good, channelling some real Aussie vernacular to fill in the gaps of the cracked landscape to make this feel like the genuine article. Our national culture has an immense fascination with these kinds of crime yarns, whether fictional or real-life (actually, come to think of it, real crime might be the defining Aussie genre), and that kind of perverse interest in the dirty dealings of others manifests as text proper with basically every character here, either aiming their scopes at others for their perceived sins, or doing all they can to cover up their own.
There’s a certain workmanship to the plot progression, and I’ll admit that the title is accurate in more ways than likely intended, but between the taut pacing, the performances, and the unsettling presentation with the visuals and the haunting cover of The Church’s Under The Milky Way, I can definitely say I wasn’t bored by any of it. It’s ultimately nothing all that special, but for those with a taste for mysteries dense with intrigue and some sly shots of societal commentary, this certainly fits the bill and makes for an entertaining effort.
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