Strange Colours

Australians are known for their taciturnity and, when moved to speak, bluntness. This film takes the image to an extreme, the occasional talkative character comes as a shock, but they are soon on their way, and we are back to the sounds of the bush. But when people do speak, it is worth listening. The setting is an opal mining community, presumably Lightning Ridge, population 2000 odd, set in a bleak and dusty landscape, a refuge from a world grown too complicated, too abrasive, too heartless. It is a place people come to visit, and somehow never go away. It's not the beauty, as there is none, or the lure of riches, as opals are not that valuable. But it is a place where you can make a living if you are not too fussy how you live, where you will be accepted for who you are, not who you were, and where people look out for each other. A girl comes to visit her sick father. She is a psychology student, a well observed role, intending to go on to Alice Springs in a few days. She doesn't. To understand why, you must watch the film. It looks like most of the roles are played by themselves, local men, for it is almost all men out there, underplayed but vivid, warm, generous, accepting of each other's limitations. You may not like it, but if it comes your way, invest a little of your busy life, you may learn something.

It's true. Strange Colours, after watching it, gosh, maybe ten or so times, is now my second most favourite film of this century. Why? Because it's slowness is also it's strength. In a world of over saturated, fast cut and paced narratives, the mediative qualities which are so profound in this film traverse into a singularity which propels the film's story into an immersive experience brought about by a combination of the vacantness of the character's interaction with each other, moving performances, outstanding cinematography and of course, that music. By the halfway point, I regularly drift off where I don't need a story or a reason to keep watching because higher measures are in order, that is to say, the immersiveness of the bleak yet seductive landscape overcome my cinema senses until, by the end of the film, I don't care what was happening in the film because the film itself carried me away to a place of fulfilment, afforded by the ability that I just snuck out of reality of an hour and a half and on return, it had a meaningful impact on my sense of the world around me. Very few film makers can do this to me except, say, for Tarr and Tarkovsky. But now there are three directors in my quadrant and Lodkina is one of them. If this is what female directors produce in the fight for gender equality in the industry, I never want to see a male director again. They just can't keep up. Lodkina wipes the floor, and so she should.

Captured the emptiness of the inhabitants and menace of Lightning Ridge and every place like in Australia - and there are many. Nothing happens but everything happens. At times intense levels of expectation that something is about to happen, then ....... It sums up the lives of the denizens in these places. They live in the constant expectation that something will happen, but nothing ever does. And it it does, it's not always what you expected.

The relationships are beautifully realised as is the atmosphere of the outback.

Long aching silences and a complete absence of plot. Nobody says much and the actors weren't really called upon to act. Its like a hidden camera for and hour and a half where nothing really happens. At the end I thought, well what the hell was that all about? The potential was there for a great movie but it just didn't happen. 90 minutes out of your life you'll never get back.

Unless you've totally ignorant of life in remote Australia there's no reason to waste your time. Slow and boring, so much so I had a hard time staying awake. Certainly will rank as one of the worst Aussie movies of all time.