Pitching something as ‘The Breakfast Club, but set in the Outback’ is pretty much a done deal for a filmgoer like myself. One of the reasons why I love that film, and its central formula, is that it’s a straight-forward but effective foundation for good characterisation, since the story inherently involves discovering everyone’s different facets on the part of both the audience and the other characters. So, naturally, a film about a similar scenario involving troubled teens being brought together to reveal some greater truth that ties them all together… yeah, I’m all for that. But this film isn’t exactly that.
Starting out with Aboriginal teen Murra (Shantae Barnes-Cowan making a welcome return from Wyrmwood: Apocalypse) and her Once Were Warriors-esque home life, the film follows her and three other teens as they go on a photography road trip across the Pilbara. The story is primarily Murra’s, about her becoming her own person, becoming fascinated with photography, and reconnecting with the land and her culture. While the suburban Kylie (Mikayla Levy), the energetic Elvis (Pedrea Jackson), and the ‘I swear I’ve met this kid in at least one social support group’ Sean (Andrew Wallace) get their moments of ‘Why are you here?’, the characterisation overall is pretty flat. They fit certain stereotypes (troublemakers, loners, etc.), but never manage to rise above those simple labels.
However, that doesn’t even really seem to be the film’s main focus. Instead, the visual presentation focuses more on the idea of connecting with the land, offering frame after frame of absolutely stunning footage of the Outback. Director Jub Clerc and DP Katie Milwright immerse the audience in the sheer beauty of the natural world, punctuated with Murra’s photos complete with poignant subtitles, and create a tangible feeling of getting lost to find yourself. It sounds a bit silly when I put it like that (editing is for the weak, so we’re sticking with it), but watching this, I honestly found myself wanting to be out in this place, feeling the dry air on my skin and the cool water between my toes.
As a main aesthetic for a film by an Aboriginal filmmaker, showing the coming-of-age arc through an explicitly Aboriginal perspective (something that is shockingly rare), it shows some serious potential in Jub Clerc’s cinematic skills. But as an actual story being told through the visuals and the gorgeous soundtrack, it felt underdeveloped. I freely admit that there’s likely a lot of deeper context within the Indigenous communities of the area that I’m missing to really get the full impact, and I’m sure as hell not going to take away from this film’s historical standing as a ground-breaker for Aboriginal cinema in Western Australia. And hey, even if the story left me a bit cold, I could easily see myself watching this again just to get more of those brilliant vistas.
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