The Correspondent

The Correspondent is an important and timely film that tackles the serious issue of journalistic freedom and freedom of the press. Based on the true story of Peter Greste, the film brings attention to a topic that continues to resonate globally.

Visually, the film is a triumph. It's shot beautifully, with world-class production design and costumes. The cinematography is exceptional, creating a visually rich and immersive experience.

Richard Roxburgh delivers one of the strongest performances of his career, sharing the screen with one of Australia's finest actors, Rahel Romahn. Romahn, fresh off his emotionally charged role in the AACTA-nominated film Streets of Colour (2023), he delivers another powerful performance here-joyful, emotionally grounded, and a testament to his versatility. He proves he can hold his own alongside seasoned performers like Roxburgh.

Special mention also goes to Julian Maroun, who delivers a strong and compelling performance. I predict all three actors-Roxburgh, Romahn, and Maroun-will be in serious contention for AACTA nominations next year, with the film itself likely to collect multiple accolades.

However, the story itself didn't fully land for me. While the film is based on a gripping true story, I found the original book more effective. The film felt too sanitized-both literally and figuratively. The prison scenes lacked authenticity. The inmates' uniforms were spotless, and there were no real moments of tension or danger. Instead, we see a lot of walking, exercising, sitting, and staring, but very little actual conflict or hardship inside the prison.

The screenplay, while competent, lacks emotional depth and a compelling narrative arc. Instead of drawing us into Peter's inner journey, the film relies heavily on a jarring soundscape meant to create a sense of claustrophobia. Unfortunately, the sound design came across as more irritating than immersive. A more restrained approach, possibly incorporating a traditional score, might have been more effective.

One of the film's weakest elements, in my view, was the use of flashbacks. While I understand the intent was to give us insight into Peter's mental state, the extended flashbacks to 2005 felt unnecessary and detracted from the main story. Their only narrative payoff comes in a brief courtroom moment, and removing them altogether would have improved the film's pacing without losing anything essential.

Another misstep was the character of ALAA, the famous activist played by Mojean Aria. The portrayal felt underdeveloped and lacked the strength and nuance that such a significant figure deserves. His introduction-seen through a prison door peephole for a full five minutes-was more distracting than clever. The character's dialogue didn't feel authentic, and ultimately, his presence added little to the film. With more thoughtful writing, this role could have been used to generate conflict and enrich the story, but instead, it felt rushed and unnecessary.

That said, the film is extremely well made. Director Kriv Stenders is clearly a strong visual storyteller, though perhaps not as effective in crafting a deeply emotional narrative journey. While I wouldn't call The Correspondent thought-provoking, it remains a very solid and commendable film.

Despite its flaws, this is still one of Kriv's best works to date-and absolutely worth watching. Highly recommended.

'The Correspondent' is from the director of 'Red Dog' and 'Danger Close', and is based on the true story of Peter Greste (Roxburgh), the Australian journalist working for Al Jeezera in Cairo in 2013, during the Arab Spring uprising, when he & colleagues Fahmy (Maroun) and Mohamed (Romahn) get arrested. The film starts well, setting up some of the protests and why Greste is there, but not really delving much into the wider politics of what's happening in Egypt.

It's all filmed in Australia, as we don't see much of Egypt, due to mostly being inside prison blocks. The film only follows Greste, often consciously claustrophobically so, as he tries to comprehend what's happening to him and how to navigate his way out, without compromising his journalistic integrity. Having Fahmy and Mohamed in the same predicament, albeit not foreign nationals, helps him share his burden at times, but also adds complications.

Part courtroom drama, part psychological horror, it's a slow-burn at 2 hours, with a mostly-happy ending - even if it's mostly inexplicable as with the initial arrests - that's sobered by the on-screen statistics that close the film. All the actors are good, with Roxburgh carrying the weight of the situation on his face and shoulders, and Kate (Stone) fleshing out some of his past guilt in flashbacks of his time with her in Mogadishu.

The story of Peter Greste may unfortunately not be particularly unusual in the modern world, but it deserves to be known, and the film's intentions in supporting press freedoms are noble and important. It also eventually manages to transcend beyond retelling the raw facts of the case and is able to offer insight about the human condition - even if it unfortunately takes over half of the runtime for it to do so.

In the first half, the film is once again struck by the dialogue-phobic scourge of modern Western screenwriting, which apparently encourages directors to do as much as possible with their visuals and keep conversations to the bare minimum. The best-known epitome of this is, of course, Denis "I really hate dialogue" Villeneuve, but once you start noticing it (particularly if you get to compare contemporary Western films with either considerably older ones or those from the other schools of filmmaking), it's hard to avoid spotting it in too many modern Western films with "prestige" aspirations (even if the Oscar judges, to their credit, tend to steer well away from this tendency - for all of my misgivings about Anora, at least it and most other nominees knew how to hold a long conversation.) Here, it's compounded by the fact Kriv Stenders is no Villeneuve, and his idea of how to "speak with the visuals" too often comes down to lens flares.

My other misgiving about the narrative is what I found to be disproportionate attention to a deeply traumatic episode from Greste's past as a foreign journalist. While it's understandable why he would be haunted by it, it does not appear to have substantial relevance to his fate in the "present-day" narrative (though brought up at his trial for "aiding terrorism", there is no real suggestion it meaningfully swayed the verdict) and the way it's doled out in a series of flashbacks takes away from more interesting questions.

In particular, we never really learn Greste's opinions on the situation in his "host" country beyond the obvious (journalists like me shouldn't be in prison.) He is repeatedly forced to deny sympathising with the Muslim Brotherhood, and of course, we have no reason to believe a Westerner like him would share its core goals. At one point, the head warden of his prison tells of those he personally lost to MB's violence. Greste sits, listens and seemingly emphasizes (not that he has much choice) but it's hard to tell if that story affected his preexisting impression of MB in any way. As much as Greste maintains he simply arrived to substitute for a sick colleague, he presumably must have had SOME opinion on the Arab Spring and the ascent of MB-aligned President Morsi, no matter how qualified. While it's safe to assume he wasn't a big fan of military coups even before finding himself imprisoned by Sisi's state, one of his age and experience must have known even mature democracies frequently ban political parties they consider inimical to their existence. In Greste's view, based on what he knew then, would Morsi have respected peaceful transfer of power had he not been subject to a coup so quickly, or would he have cemented a different form of dictatorship if left alone? It's a prickly question, and one where any answer was likely to have alienated some fraction of the viewers, but it is the courage to tackle such questions which separates great fiction from the good.

Luckily, The Correspondent still has more than enough touches which make it a worthy film. Chief of those is the depiction of how time and isolation make Greste (and his Egyptian colleagues) pass through the five stages of grief: it's utterly eerie to realize they are actually in a sense grateful for such tiny comforts as more spacious confines, their own stove, a buzzcut at "the most exclusive hair saloon in Cairo" - and of being able to play backgammon on an actual board with real dice, as opposed to a painted piece of cardboard with marked pumpkin seeds. Moreover, it's bitterly amusing to see an Australian film present the Australian consulate to be infuriatingly, patronizingly useless, memorably reduced to handing out candies - and to contrast that favorably with the intervention of the Latvian consulate. Interestingly, one of Greste's colleagues is justifiably wary of that, believing that internationalizing the event only makes it harder for Sisi to back down. While the events likely prove him wrong, it's hard not to conclude there's ultimately little in a way of a successful playbook for dealing with a truly determined state power. Greste fared worse than some, but better than too many others. If this film can start a conversation on how to safeguard others from the same, it would have been worth it.