The limitations of this drama are apparent to anyone after the first five minutes. The protagonist, a psuedo-post-modern artist from New Reno, makes a show of boredom, the boredom of the outback sands. Day after day, he shows us the same footage of the same sand dunes, shifting, ever shifting. Sand dunes. Oh yes. Myth of the dream...this shows the grim reality!
The audience is left wanting more as Rossi stumbles onto the scene - a nouveau Hitler? Perhaps. Just because he develops a tawdry love affair with Mr Georgiou (at St Pauls) is no excuse for what ensues, a poor substitute for Simon's anger and agression. If this were a real film, Nick would drive home inebriated.
Don't waste your time on this flick. There is only one word - pork.
