a review of romulus, my father (2007)
My wife and I watched this excellent movie several hours ago in Fremantle and we both share similar feelings about this engrossing yet difficult film. My comment is in no way meant to demean anything about the film, rather it is simply a sign-post to direct some people to other films because it is a difficult movie to watch; it fleshes in segments of people's lives that, as a rule, are not brought to light--they remain closeted and spoken of in muted voices when they are spoken of at all.
In my opinion, Australian movies are a massively unique sub-species of what could generally be tagged "art-house" movies--movies that are drawn in colours that do not reflect anything remotely from Hollywood. These movies have certain characteristics: they are most obviously short on dialogue; the Australian landscape is so strong that it becomes another principle character in the film; there is not even a hint of "glitz"; the script is as close to reality as any viewer would likely want to get and the cinematography is bold, using close-ups and strong contrasts to accentuate the on-screen drama. Romulous, My Father had all of these elements and they were masterfully blended into an unforgettable movie.
The script was based on the memoirs of the boy who dominates the movie. Eric Bana, the father, takes top billing but the son is equal to Bana's brilliant portrayal. Diane and I talked on the way home today that we knew adults who were that boy. We did not know these families when the friends were small but we know the elements that combined to mirror the script we just watched on the screen. Change a few scenes here and there and it is all so similar. Australia is the story we saw today many times repeated.
I would recommend this film to Australians because it is the story of our neighbors or workmates and I would recommend it to people from the world over as a quintessential Australian film as well as an insight into who we are.
love the quiet way of the movie. and you thought you had it hard.
