This is one of the most neglected Australian films of all time. The cast alone - Melita Jurisic and Chris Haywood - should be an indication of quality, but this is a finely made film on many levels. The cinematography of the breath-takingly beautiful but forbidding Tasmanian highlands is exquisite, the music by Paul Schutze is mesmerising and moving, and, of course, the major credit for writing, directing and editing the film goes to Roger Scholes. Unlike many Australian films of the era (with the possible exception of The Cars that Ate Paris by Peter Weir) this film leaves plenty of room for the viewer to draw its threads together. There is one scene that is incredibly moving: Ruby, the main character, leaving her isolated and grimly spartan home in the mountains, has fought her way through the hostile wintery landscape to find her grandmother in the valley. After the relentless hardship of the first section of the film, she finally arrives at the soft countryside and ordered cottage of her long-lost grandmother. Her grandmother (the extraordinary Sheila Florence who was in fact in the last stages of cancer when the film was shot) is a frail but spirited and wise woman. After their first meeting, granny runs a bath and they share it. The feeling of relief, warmth, comfort and humanity in this scene hits your heart, after so much privation, anxiety, and endurance. This film needs to be re-released. It stands up amazingly well after 25 years.
