10 canoës, 150 lances et 3 épouses

"Ten Canoes" resembles a National Geographic documentary with dramatic overtones and is sometimes hard to follow due to the thick accent of the narrator but it's nevertheless absorbing due in part to its very oddness, being a story about aboriginal Australians (though written, directed and shot by a Caucasian team headed by director Rolf de Heer). Structurally it is a story within a story about a how a tribe in the pre-colonial period handled the sudden disappearance of one of its female members. The story allows de Heer to illustrate how members of this primitive community were not so very different from ourselves in their essential human characteristics. The mere placement of a group of naked, primitive people as central characters in a fictional motion picture drama is, to Western eyes, enough to command the attention. The more or less constant narration tends to hinder dramatic development so that we never connect deeply with any of the characters yet we empathize with their predicaments. Generally speaking, it paints a sympathetic picture of a people whom fate has brutalized and who now are only beginning to recover and get back a sense of who they are and what they come from, in part through films like this one.

An outstanding movie. Storytelling at its finest. Ten canoes is a story within a story and delves into a world that people rarely no about. Away from the clichéd Aboriginal art and instruments - we are propelled to live by proxy with two generations and experience their world, their humour. This was one of two most outstanding movies at this year's Cannes film festival. The only shame was that it was not in the official competition section but in the un certain regard. /however, showing great wisdom, the jury did realise and rightly so award for the first time ever a special jury prize to Ten Canoes. Written, shot and directed with a deft touch. Sheer class.

Rolf de Heer's film premiered as part of the Adelaide Festival with sound problems dogging the otherwise pristine print. The film looks great, and the narration with David Gulpilil is too important to miss, obviously, as I found it very difficult to keep up with the extremely complex set up/story. When hearing a new language such as this it is important to hear things clearly - sadly the capacity of the Adelaide Festival to screen the film was lacking on this front.

That said, the film is filled with compelling visuals not unlike one of the earlier films of de Heer, and it has some very quaint (albeit base) amusement wrapped into the story.

Set a 1000 years ago before white fellas came to Australia, this is a dual story, one told in the immediate black and white/sepia world of reality, and one told in the rich color of the Aboriginal dream time... both stories are pretty much the same, and the roles are played by the same actors in each, so there are points where it's easy to get a little confused by who is doing what and when - but over all this is what you'd call a worthy film - it has the look of an old documentary at times, and that's not a bad look.

I enjoyed it despite the technological problems of this screening.

Sometimes all you need is magic. At least it seems so, when you see the real thing. If you happened to see Baz Luhmann's "Australia" and was confused, see this instead. It is the genuine article, about the magic, told with magic. It is circular, nested and webbed. It floats, and if you let it you will nearly be lost.

The cinematography here — all the cinematic values — are only slightly apparent and when they declare themselves, it is in the service of the story: switching from subdued color to bright to signal the shift of what story you are in. Otherwise, the camera is either in conventional documentary mode or in space following spirits across landscapes as they voyage from waterhole python ouroboros and back.

What we have here is good old oral storytelling supplemented by image, and highly structured. Essentially everything is told by an offscreen aboriginal narrator, whose convoluted beginning establishes all sorts of narrative pockets that are revisited later. The story is a tree, we are told and in its telling we visit many branches. There is a sort of beginning, but it is nearly too complicated to describe. There is an ending, but no. After a chuckle the narrator tells us he has no idea how it ends.

Ostensibly, the story is told by the off-screen narrator, of a hunting party of aboriginal men, who make ten bark canoes and go hunting and gathering in the swamp. Over that period in the story, a wise man tells a story to his impatient much younger brother. That "inner" story shifts to color. It is supposed to be in a time in between creation and the full solidifying of men on earth. So the characters in the inner story are played by the folks in the outer one, and the main threads are folded together: a matter of the young man's desire for the older brother's youngest wife.

But that is the merest of threads. We are told that the story is a tree. We literally see that tree shorn of bark and made into simple canoes. We literally see our hunters — in both stories — camping in trees. The story seems to ramble. There is sorcery, mystery, charmed turds. There is revenge, jokes, anthropology. Its all of a context. A point of all this is that there cannot be a point in the western sense. There isn't a linear narrative here with a message. There is a walkabout through a storyspace.

The very first event we see tells us this in a remarkable way. Our ten men are walking single file and the last man halts the party. He refuses to be last, he says, because someone is farting. The line is consequently reshuffled. It is a gentle device, one that sets the magic for what "follows," a non-linear shuffle.

The joke at the end has the same form. The last one (the youngest wife) is not how the thing ends.

The entire production, we are told, uses aboriginal talent exclusively.

You want to know the narrative power of carefully folded (meaning here: intuitively structured) narrative? See this.

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.

The English philosopher Thomas Hobbes, who lived to be 92 and spent much of his life in the aristocratic splendour of Hardwick Hall, Derbyshire, famously opined that the life of primitive man was "solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short". Jacques Rousseau, on the other hand, in direct contradiction of Christian theology, was convinced that man had been born good, and that primitive man was indeed the "noble savage".

Rolf de Heer, a maker of small, quirky and interesting films ("Bad Boy Bubby", "The Old Man Who Read Love Stories", "The Tracker"), probably doesn't subscribe to either notion. In this exquisitely photographed tale from the mythical past he lets the aboriginals of the Arafura wetlands, Arnhem Land, tell their own story. Apart from David Gulpilil, who provides a gentle, teasing voice-over, and his son Jamie, all the parts are played by non-professional actors from the district. Apart from the voice-over, all the dialogue is in the local aboriginal language (don't worry, there are sub-titles).

While on a goose egg hunting trip, Older Brother , who has noticed his younger brother's interest in one of his wives, tells Younger Brother a story from a much earlier time, of another younger brother who yearned after his older brother's wife. Without giving the story away, the moral is "be careful about what you wish for, you might get it", but much happens in between. It becomes evident that these "savages", as well as possessing a robust sense of humor, have a legal system that minimizes the damage done by crimes. It seems that neighboring tribes, whose language our tribe scarcely understands, will play by the same rules. Once honour is satisfied, the matter is at an end. The story gives us an insight as to how aboriginal society remained stable for so long prior to contact with Europeans.

It is hard to comment on the acting, other than to say the characters seem completely authentic. The tribe's sorcerer, for instance, likes to choose a bone to wear in his nose to suit his mood or the occasion, just as your local GP might like to select a bow tie before opening his surgery. But I have to mention Crusoe Kusddal as Ridjimiraril, the older brother in the myth. His language means little to us, but his expression everything.

The scenes on the goose-hunt, which book-end the main story, are in black and white, a tribute to earlier photographers in Arnhem Land, but most of the film is in colour, which does full justice to the landscape. This is no Garden of Eden – the necessity to build tree platforms while camping in the swamp is evidence of that (though we see no actual crocodiles). Yet the aborigines manage to live within the environment without despoiling it or each other. Theirs is a patriarchal society but women are protected by the rules as well as by their menfolk. The movie is a fascinating glimpse into the culture, told in a disarmingly humorous fashion, by the people themselves. One should not be too misty-eyed about this – the cast probably watch "The Simpsons" via satellite at home – but they have given us both a droll tale and some food for thought.