I was at a disadvantage when I saw Australia in January of 2009. Several, actually:
1) I had not yet lived in Australia.
2) I was not yet a parent.
3) I heard it was bad.
Yes I had a fair number of preconceived notions about the poor quality of Australia when coming in. The film was received with howls in certain critical corners in late 2008 when it was released, and according to the date Letterboxd shows me I saw it, I only just barely crammed it in before my 2008 list closed. I metaphorically had my arms crossed before I even entered the theater, despite loving Luhrmann's previous film, Moulin Rouge. (Which I watched for about the fifth time for this series in June, you will recall.)
Then I liked the movie. Maybe I didn't love it, but I liked it plenty. And considerably more than my wife, an actual Australian, if memory serves. Another hurdle for Australia to overcome in terms of its enduring legacy in my mind.
I checked the retroactive star rating I gave it on Letterboxd, and was pleasantly surprised to see that when I entered all my films in Letterboxd in early 2012, I was feeling generously enough toward Australia to give it 3.5 stars. The Flickchart ranking is also fair, 2145 out of 6353 films ranked, good for 66%.
So you can imagine I was pretty surprised to nearly be in tears at the end of the movie on this viewing.
Yes I am a sap. We know this about me. It's one of the main reasons I (generally) swoon for Luhrmann's work. But I'd thought Australia was an exception.
Instead I watched -- across last Friday night and Saturday morning -- a grand, sweeping, 2-hour-and-45-minute epic in the old school style of big spectacles, with brave heroes and hissable villains, and damsels in distress who, it should be said, get plenty of their own agency in a manner more befitting the 21st century in which the film was made. With a storyline about surrogate parents and their surrogate child that really put a lump in my throat.
I think one of the criticisms Luhrmann receives is that he doesn't draw his characters very finely. There are things they represent, but they don't have the detail or the nuance that we believe -- correctly in most instances -- is the meat and potatoes of good character writing.
One example of this, which caused a lot of guffaws at the time, is that Hugh Jackman's character never receives a name other than "the Drover." (Because he's a cattle drover.) I admit I thought this was funny at the time too.
Now I realize that giving us inordinately complex characters is not one of Luhrmann's interests, and that does not necessarily detract from the quality of his films. I'd argue that we do get some complexity in other Luhrmann characters, often as a result of the performer's individual gifts. Some, for example, think that's what we get in the lead performance in Elvis, though I'd have to think more about that to decide if it deviates from my thesis.
Which is this: Luhrmann is more interested in exploring archetypes, not specific people.
The Drover is perhaps the prime example, though that doesn't take even a little bit away from Jackman's performance. He's heroic and sexy and has incredible chemistry with Nicole Kidman. Did I say he was sexy? Boy is he sexy. But you can't pull off those things if you are wooden, if you are only fulfilling the needs of an archetype.
Yet even if he were, so what? It's becoming clear to me after four Luhrmann films that his films are in conversation with the very history of narrative, beyond existing as narratives themselves. Few writer-directors conjure more detestable villains. Richard Roxburgh's duke in Moulin Rouge may be at the top of that list, but David Wenham's Fletcher gives him a run for his money here. Luhrmann is exceptional at getting a sneer from an actor.
When you are watching a Luhrmann movie, you need to be going in with the expectation that he's going to paint with broad strokes, on purpose, to bring out what makes certain character types appear over and over in the history of storytelling. Some people may not like that project. I love it.
And did I love Australia on this viewing?
Maybe. Maybe I did.
The epic scope of the outback in the film's opening 90 minutes or so is perhaps something I wouldn't have appreciated as much before I lived here. Not that I've spent a huge amount of time in the outback. But I did actually visit the part of the world in which this is set in 2017. The city of Darwin and the Aboriginal territory of Arnhem Land are both places I visited, though the latter only with the accompaniment of an indigenous guide, and only just inside the boundary. See, only indigenous people are allowed to set foot in Arnhem Land unless specifically approved for a visit.
I found these scenes glorious in scope and subject matter. In 2008 (early 2009) I also did not have the context of coming to understand the indigenous experience a little better as I have in the ten years I've lived here. I would never pretend that I understand the experience well -- that's not something I have any right to claim -- but I certainly have consumed a fair amount of art about the indigenous experience, each of which improves my overall ability to empathize with their history of suffering. At first I thought Luhrmann's handling of the indigenous themes would read as cringey or appropriative to me, but I actually think he does a pretty good job with it. It's always great to see Australian treasure David Gulpilil, who just passed in the past two years, in the role of King George.
As impressed as I was with the vistas in the film's first 90 minutes, I was equally impressed with Luhrmann's shift to the upper-class social gatherings of Darwin, which is where we see some of his most familiar interests -- romantic scenes of people dressed up in fancy outfits, dancing. We get this in almost every Luhrmann film -- possibly ever one, full stop. The attack by Japanese aircraft is then also done really well.
I was enthusiastic enough about Australia on this viewing that I could probably continue to list things. But there was only one more funny detail I wanted to mention before I wrap up with thoughts on why the film's possible deepest resonance for me this time around.
That last detail relates to how Luhrmann establishes his villains. One thing is, of course, the sneering. Another is the conniving, murder, etc. But something I found common to both Wenham's Fletcher and a lesser villain, King Carney, played by Bryan Brown -- who ends up having something of a heart -- is that they both swig directly from the bottle when they're drinking at a fancy party. In one character detail it shows both their sense of entitlement, and how uncouth they are -- the latter a real sin in Luhrmann's world of passionate kisses in tuxedos and ball gowns.
My final thought has to do with the third lead beyond Kidman and Jackman, a young Aboriginal boy named Nullah, played by Brandon Walters.
For starters, I was overcome by how radiant a presence this boy is. Let it never be said that Luhrmann doesn't have a knack for casting. I'm not sure where he found Walters -- I could probably look it up on the internet if I could be bothered -- but there are not a lot of characters I have seen on screen in whom I have found it easier to poor my heart. Those eyes! The kid is such a natural that I'm sorry to see he has only appeared in three other projects, and only in the past few years -- unless of course that was his choice. If it was because Australia was received poorly, then I think that's truly a shame.
My reaction to both Walters and the character has something to do with what I mentioned up top, about how I was not a parent in 2009.
I was really touched by the story of the makeshift family that develops between Drover, Sarah Ashley and Nullah. I suppose today it would read more as a white savior narrative, but just as Luhrmann avoids the most pernicious pitfalls of depicting the Aboriginal experience on screen, he also avoids them in this regard. The conditions at the time -- when so-called "half caste" indigenous children were being taken from their families to become "civilized" in white homes -- makes it inevitable that the two white heroes of this film would have to play this role toward him. However, the understanding of the importance of him going on walkabout with his grandfather, Gulpilil's King George, keeps the optics pretty good on this one.
And dammit if I didn't get emotional when a) this makeshift family is reunited, and b) this makeshift family has to send their adoptive son out into the world, to learn the ways of his ancestors, to discover how to follow the songlines that they have sung out for navigating the great outback. When you are a parent, narratives in which parents are separated from children suddenly strike you more deeply -- and I discovered on this viewing that Australia is a particularly good example of this sort of emotional manipulation, a term I use in its very best sense.
(Yeah, I never expected to write this many words on Australia either.)
One final, final thought. I watched Australia close to what was the tenth anniversary of me living in this country. August 20, 2013 was the date I left America; August 22nd was the day I arrived in Australia, because you lose that day flying in that direction. I thought about posting about this landmark date here on this blog, but since it isn't directly related to the movies, I never did. However, I thought watching Australia for reasons other than celebrating this anniversary, and rather only because it was the next scheduled movie in this series, was pretty felicitous.
We're up to Luhrmann's second-most-recent release in October with The Great Gatsby, which will be my third viewing.
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