Corroboree

It's really refreshing to see something like this come out of Australia. While I was watching it during the screening, I noticed a few people in the audience were restless, which is understandable because we don't see a lot of cinema like this in Australia, except for during the festivals. This is more like an obscure Asian or old fashioned European film than the sort of drama we're used to from Australia.

The long takes, actors wandering in and out of the frame, the faded childlike colors evoking a nostalgia but also witty reference to the type of theatrical story it is.

I was most impressed by the acting. The boy is really good, and he gets better as the film goes on, which is clearly the intention of the film. And the actresses are really interesting. Particularly the hypnotist woman, who I have seen in other films but is especially good here. I also thought the spitting actress was very good too, quite detestable and quite warm also.

I also think the composition of the shots is one of the strong points of the film. Some beautiful attention to detail throughout gives the story a painterly feel.

Reading the other reviews, a few people lament the lack of story and dramatic signposts. I understand their sentiment, but I don't think it's really this kind of film. Maybe, because it's Australian that's what they expect.

If anything, the dramatic story moments such as the dark haired boy, (son of the director?) let down the film's austere quality. That's my opinion.

On a world scale, I'd give it a 6.5/7 .... but on an Australian scale.... I have to give it a 10.

I thought that this film started well - the thump of the motor, the car park and the ride in the bus that gave a great view of the countryside. The arrival at the boarding house kept my interest, it wasn't until the show moved into the boarding house that I became disappointed, the scenes shot from then on were poorly lit and poorly shot. I was prepared to put up with the innocuous script and terrible acting but not the lack of light and consequent lack of engagement with the characters. I left the cinema feeling that my friend had been robbed (she paid for the tickets and refused to take money from me - she walked out 20 minutes in).

When I walked out of this film during the Melbourne International Film Festival, I fell in beside a bunch of 18 year old school students from the audience who were musing that if that's what film is all about then they are glad they haven't applied for film school. Thinking about this, and reading the other people's comments on this site, I am left with no doubt that to enjoy this film, the audience requires a certain degree of maturity.

It is a film which builds through a series of surreal scenes which time and again left me staggered both with their stark originality and their subtle rendering. The scenes focus on the central character meeting several different women and reenacting a series of different scenarios which have been penned from the real life experiences of a dying director. There is certainly a very strong tone of mystery pervading the film. It deals with subjectivity, the fraught nature of creation (in performance, film or metaphysically) and the subjugation of particular rationalities and identities in favour of other forms, realities and selves. It also deals with immortality.

Now all this sounds a bit heavy, but the material of the film provokes a genuinely cerebral engagement. What makes it work however, is its simplicity. It is beautifully shot, in a particularly fecund location, with an almost meditative quality to its scenes. It begs the audience to let go. To take the trip and immerse yourself in the confusion and possibility with the main character. I found the contrast between the simplicity of the film's aesthetic sensibilities and the perplexing (and somewhat foreboding) qualities of its social situations and subtexts absolutely tantalising. The unpredictability of the story and the inability to pin it down results in an exhilarating escape to a very different place. In some ways I experienced a similar exhilaration to what I did reading The Magus by John Fowles. Both stories took me away into a sort of fantasy where I was constantly left wondering what was around the next corner.

Some viewers evidently find that unpredictability unsettling. They find its bold meditations tiresome or boring. They are frustrated by the absence of clear filmic markers. By the invisibility of signposts to help you make sense of exactly what the characters might be thinking. These people thrive on structure and familiarity. They like to be given a clearly marked prism through which to view drama, its characters and its meanings. And that's fine for them. But some of us will revel in being disoriented and will enjoy being left alone and vulnerable to Coroboree's unique magic. The oft-observed inferiority (discourse) of the Australian Film Industry owes itself not to the creation of films which challenge and divide an audience but the absence of these films. I think Coroboree is a great Australian film.

Mystery and voyeuristic suspense in an abstract and even distant way abounds most of "Corroboree"from its very beginning right through to the end. We are taken on a very private, aesthetically beautiful and tonal journey, the darkness prevalent but also the light of nature, of the magic of light. It is a strange film, a film of unexplained urges and inclinations, a very physical and adventurous drama of daring and unique intimations. The suspense builds because of the silence and paucity of dialogue at times, which makes the audience work all their senses at once. Many questions spring to mind but most importantly there is a pervasive and lasting thought that one must not raise logical questions for logic and rationality seem to be no longer present and appear not to even need to exist. The control of Conor, the feeling that he is suspending criticism of those around him and his overriding acceptance and non-resistance to this journey are cues to how we are to engage in the drama that unfolds. I thought of Ingmar Bergman's "Cries and Whispers" and Thomas Mann's "Death in Venice" with Bogarde and a beautiful young man I thought reminded me of Conor with the glory of unlined and glowing young flesh. As a painter of such beauty, at least knowing I could most sensitively paint that flesh, especially with the visually resplendent last image of blood streaming down the torso, so extreme and yet with so much control and silence, is a haunting vision that stays with one.

I am not sure I understood a lot of the film. It tore at all the logical and everyday humdrum notions of what films are usually all about or how predictable they are, in the way they appeal to the popular masses. Perhaps I could be critical about some parts of the film but only if I could truly come up with an alternative reality but that would ultimately only be subjective and not my prerogative, for I am a mere onlooker and observer.

Many questions are summoned to the forefront of my at times feeble consciousness.....as a lover of aesthetically beautiful and visual feasts, I would have to say that Conor afforded a lavish smörgåsbord of assorted visual treasures which the film takes with it, bringing Conor from an obscure unknown and unassertive stance into the drama which then unfolded in all its personal and yet impersonal and at times cold and abstract way... The distances are accentuated from person to person, the private dramas of some of the characters seem to create distance or there is a quality of estrangement from the characters in the film. A deliberately undeveloped feeling of the characters is created.

I found this quote which betokens a meaning I might ascribe to the film:

"I want very much to tell, to talk about, the wholeness inside every human being. It's a strange thing that every human being has a sort of dignity or wholeness in him, and out of that develops relationships to other human beings, tensions, misunderstandings, tenderness, coming in contact, touching and being touched, the cutting off of a contact and what happens then." (Bergman in John Simon's book Ingmar Bergman Directs, 1972)

Faced with his imminent death, a theatre director has retired to an isolated retreat to live out his last days with his son and five favourite actresses. He calls Conor, an inexperienced beautiful young man, to this spiritual haven for an experiment in performance that will blur the line between fiction and lies, biography and legacy, ceremony and sacrifice. The director watches from the shadows as the actresses perform scenes from his life, and Conor is absorbed into this uncertain twilight world of memories and confessions. Can the muse atone for the sins of the artist?

A haunting experience of intense beauty and restraint. A must for anyone who loves cinema.

You very likely already are saying 'Huh?' to all this and you are right. I couldn't make head nor tail (nor tale either) of this farrago, apparently an attempt at some form of sub-Alain Resnais sensibility, so I deputised the job to the DVD cover blurb. That was the first paragraph. The second para was an opinion from Megan Spencer on radio JJJ. The only way I could account for it was that Ms Spencer must be the director's mum.

There were occasional hints that it was all some sort of unscripted play, but the film failed to convey its plot across to me. Even less did it induce me to care.

In the end, the only way I found to survive through to the end was to pretend it was an allegory. The prologue up country bus journey was really the midnight coach ride to Borgo Pass, the setting (in the spa at Hepburn Springs) was Castle Dracula, the shadowy 'director' was a behind the scenes Count, the actresses his brides, and the BYM a bewildered and bewitched Jonathan Harker. Certainly the mind control and blood motifs were there.

I still didn't care for it. The soonest these vampires shot through to harvest jugulars in the big smoke was never going to be soon enough.

I was a bit surprised by the film's 'beautiful young man'. I was expecting a Dorian Gray type, but Conor O'Hanlon who played his namesake here wouldn't have looked out of place in the Wallabies front row.