This violent but extremely affective film is set in a depressed town in New Zealand, where relocated Maoris live out a marginal urban existence. The central character is Beth Heke (Owen), mother of five and wife of the bluntly oppressive Jake (Morrison). As in most abusive relationships, their union is characterised by their mutual dependency and the perpetual swing between adolescent-style romance and vicious, unpredictable attacks. I cannot stress how well this is observed. Beth is not portrayed as some kind of flawless, selfless waif, and nor is Jake�s culturally inherent violence legitimised by any namby-pamby psychologising. Neither of them, crucially, has fully accepted adult responsibilities, leaving the children to do the growing up alone. The violence is unglamorised and plentiful.
This relationship has naturally unsettled the kids, two of whom are decent hearts currently going off the rails, and fourteen-year-old Grace (Kerr-Bell), who is just reaching adolescence, symbolises some kind of hope. She writes a diary and stories constantly, and clearly she�s the one we want to see getting out of this mess. We see her searching for any kind of space for a non-white woman who is not, essentially, a slave. As her father�s friend says, �You�re growing up fast, girl,� which apparently justifies his actions later. There�s not much to guess here and I could hardly describe this as �spoiling� the film for you anyway, as by this point I was an absolute wailing wreck, and this is from someone who is not given to crying during films. The fact that these events are endemic to any patriarchal society is what gives this film its near-worldwide importance.
The consequences of these events lead Beth to realise that if her children are going to have anything like a straight future, it�s going to have to be through her and their Maori roots. There isn�t much more to tell as it�s not really a narrative-driven film; just the depth in the family members� attempts to make their individual ways in a hostile world full of rigid boundaries of exclusion, presided over and symbolised by their father, gives the film enough material. Any less wouldn�t do the subject matter justice. In this sense it feels much like a documentary, with the sheer brilliance of the acting and the accuracy of the script making it film-like. And it makes compelling, but absolutely heartbreaking viewing. |
