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#576 - The Proposition
John Hillcoat, 2005
A captured outlaw is offered the chance to earn a pardon for himself and for his younger brother if he ventures into the outback and kills his older brother.
The Proposition provides an incredibly bleak and bloody take on bushranger mythology in the second (and arguably best) collaboration between director John Hillcoat and screenwriter Nick Cave. The duo's dark sensibilities combine in service of a morally grey tale set in the 19th-century outback that centres on three Irish brothers (Danny Huston, Guy Pearce, and Richard Wilson) who are all noted outlaws. The film begins with Pearce and Wilson being arrested by the local troopers, whose English captain (Ray Winstone) secretly offers them the chance to be pardoned if Pearce can track down and kill Huston, who has separated from his brothers and is hiding out somewhere in the wilderness. This gives Pearce a fairly simple journey to go on that is naturally fraught with all sorts of complications long before he even gets close to Huston. Meanwhile, Winstone has to deal with a number of problems on the home front, the most notable of which include trying to cultivate a quiet home life with his sheltered wife (Emily Watson) and dealing with the consequences of his proposition when his sharply-dressed superior (David Wenham) arrives in town.
Acclaimed musician Cave translates the same bloody-minded fascination with the depth and breadth of the human condition that characterised much of his most well-respected music. There is nothing about this film that could be considered romanticised; the closest it gets is the entire sub-plot about Winstone and Watson trying their best to replicate their old English lifestyle in a remote farmhouse, and even then it is still tinged with tension as the demands of Winstone's job take a greater and greater toll on the household. Otherwise, the unflinching portrayal of the Australian outback and the individuals that reside there is enough to remind me favourably of Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian (which I had read at some point between this viewing and my last one). Pearce's objective seems simple, but the obstacles are frequent and generate a constant slow-burning tension; the most obvious example is when he stumbles upon an abandoned outpost occupied by a dead publican and a drunken old adventurer (John Hurt). Though the scenes that follow Pearce's misadventure-filled A-plot are more often than not the most compelling ones in the film, the B-plot concerning Winstone and the other townsfolk is fortunately solid enough for the scenes dedicated to it to not feel like filler; arguably, the most unforgettably brutal moment in the film takes place in the town square. Despite the ways in which the film will frequently linger on details great and small, be it long shots of characters silhouetted against orange horizons or a close-up of blood being squeezed out of a cat-o'-nine-tails, the film never truly seems to drag as it keeps moving towards its inexorable conclusion.
There is an impressive ensemble of actors from both Britain and Australia that serve to make The Proposition more than just another slow and violent Western. Pearce makes for an appropriately stoic and largely amoral protagonist whose overriding concern for the welfare of his younger brother proves to be much more of a motivation than the promise of his freedom; as a result, his conflicted performance is good enough to overcome any slippage of his Irish accent. Huston makes for a good antagonist behind his filthy appearance and affably philosophical demeanour, which does make him a more interesting threat than if he was just another raving lunatic (unfortunately, Tom Budge gets stuck playing said lunatic in his role as Huston's wild-eyed offsider and doesn't quite sell it). Heavyweight character actor Winstone gets a fairly challenging role as he has to constantly swap between being the hard-bitten captain of the guard and a sensitive husband, the balance between which is managed by his unwavering dedication to "civilising the land" defining both sides of his character.
As one of only two female characters granted any narrative significance (the other being Leah Purcell as a member of Huston's gang, who does well with a part that is admittedly rather minor and underdeveloped), Watson gets a decent enough part that serves to accentuate the contrast between the ideal of English civility and the nadir of Australian cruelty; though she mainly serves as a highly-strung embodiment of the former, this does lead to her embracing the latter out of a vengeful desire for retribution against the lead trio. Even seemingly minor parts get strong performances - Hurt appears in only two scenes but he brings enough mad-eyed theatricality and darkly inappropriate humour to his few minutes of screen-time that he threatens to steal the whole show, while Wenham makes the most of having to play a very love-to-hate bureaucrat complete with snooty delivery and handlebar moustache. Credit also has to go to veteran indigenous actor David Gulpilil as the troopers' resident tracker who gets in some clever jabs at his white superiors, while Tom E. Lewis gets to channel his most famous role as an outlaw whose vicious nature makes him play out like an older and much more embittered version of Jimmie Blacksmith.
As far as technique goes...that's where things get a little flawed. Despite Cave's considerable reputation as a musician who has blended many different styles to great success over the course of the past few decades, I actually find his score (co-written with Warren Ellis, a member of the Bad Seeds and Cave's frequent collaborator on film scores) to be the weakest aspect of the whole film. The lilting children's song that begins the film becomes a leitmotif that plays over any scenes set on the home front and is thus liable to become annoying, while the music that plays as Pearce heads further into the outback isn't much better; though it is mainly minimal and instrumental, instances of Cave whispering or roaring the same lines of poetry tend to come across as distracting rather than complementary. Otherwise, the cinematography is a treat as it captures everything with clarity, moving fluidly between static landscape shots and intense close-ups. Between that and the editing, there is enough going on to make the film become rather bizarre in some instances, especially with the occasional disorienting shock being deployed as a result. These factors contribute to making a film that is not without its flaws but still has enough strengths to earn a reputation as one of the best Australian films of recent years. It's violent without being gratuitous and gives us a cast of generally well-written and well-acted characters whose actions or lack thereof pose some significant moral quandaries in the name of lofty goals such as peacekeeping and civilisation - when they're not being bloodthirsty agents of carnage, of course. Definitely recommended.
John Hillcoat, 2005
A captured outlaw is offered the chance to earn a pardon for himself and for his younger brother if he ventures into the outback and kills his older brother.
The Proposition provides an incredibly bleak and bloody take on bushranger mythology in the second (and arguably best) collaboration between director John Hillcoat and screenwriter Nick Cave. The duo's dark sensibilities combine in service of a morally grey tale set in the 19th-century outback that centres on three Irish brothers (Danny Huston, Guy Pearce, and Richard Wilson) who are all noted outlaws. The film begins with Pearce and Wilson being arrested by the local troopers, whose English captain (Ray Winstone) secretly offers them the chance to be pardoned if Pearce can track down and kill Huston, who has separated from his brothers and is hiding out somewhere in the wilderness. This gives Pearce a fairly simple journey to go on that is naturally fraught with all sorts of complications long before he even gets close to Huston. Meanwhile, Winstone has to deal with a number of problems on the home front, the most notable of which include trying to cultivate a quiet home life with his sheltered wife (Emily Watson) and dealing with the consequences of his proposition when his sharply-dressed superior (David Wenham) arrives in town.
Acclaimed musician Cave translates the same bloody-minded fascination with the depth and breadth of the human condition that characterised much of his most well-respected music. There is nothing about this film that could be considered romanticised; the closest it gets is the entire sub-plot about Winstone and Watson trying their best to replicate their old English lifestyle in a remote farmhouse, and even then it is still tinged with tension as the demands of Winstone's job take a greater and greater toll on the household. Otherwise, the unflinching portrayal of the Australian outback and the individuals that reside there is enough to remind me favourably of Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian (which I had read at some point between this viewing and my last one). Pearce's objective seems simple, but the obstacles are frequent and generate a constant slow-burning tension; the most obvious example is when he stumbles upon an abandoned outpost occupied by a dead publican and a drunken old adventurer (John Hurt). Though the scenes that follow Pearce's misadventure-filled A-plot are more often than not the most compelling ones in the film, the B-plot concerning Winstone and the other townsfolk is fortunately solid enough for the scenes dedicated to it to not feel like filler; arguably, the most unforgettably brutal moment in the film takes place in the town square. Despite the ways in which the film will frequently linger on details great and small, be it long shots of characters silhouetted against orange horizons or a close-up of blood being squeezed out of a cat-o'-nine-tails, the film never truly seems to drag as it keeps moving towards its inexorable conclusion.
There is an impressive ensemble of actors from both Britain and Australia that serve to make The Proposition more than just another slow and violent Western. Pearce makes for an appropriately stoic and largely amoral protagonist whose overriding concern for the welfare of his younger brother proves to be much more of a motivation than the promise of his freedom; as a result, his conflicted performance is good enough to overcome any slippage of his Irish accent. Huston makes for a good antagonist behind his filthy appearance and affably philosophical demeanour, which does make him a more interesting threat than if he was just another raving lunatic (unfortunately, Tom Budge gets stuck playing said lunatic in his role as Huston's wild-eyed offsider and doesn't quite sell it). Heavyweight character actor Winstone gets a fairly challenging role as he has to constantly swap between being the hard-bitten captain of the guard and a sensitive husband, the balance between which is managed by his unwavering dedication to "civilising the land" defining both sides of his character.
As one of only two female characters granted any narrative significance (the other being Leah Purcell as a member of Huston's gang, who does well with a part that is admittedly rather minor and underdeveloped), Watson gets a decent enough part that serves to accentuate the contrast between the ideal of English civility and the nadir of Australian cruelty; though she mainly serves as a highly-strung embodiment of the former, this does lead to her embracing the latter out of a vengeful desire for retribution against the lead trio. Even seemingly minor parts get strong performances - Hurt appears in only two scenes but he brings enough mad-eyed theatricality and darkly inappropriate humour to his few minutes of screen-time that he threatens to steal the whole show, while Wenham makes the most of having to play a very love-to-hate bureaucrat complete with snooty delivery and handlebar moustache. Credit also has to go to veteran indigenous actor David Gulpilil as the troopers' resident tracker who gets in some clever jabs at his white superiors, while Tom E. Lewis gets to channel his most famous role as an outlaw whose vicious nature makes him play out like an older and much more embittered version of Jimmie Blacksmith.
As far as technique goes...that's where things get a little flawed. Despite Cave's considerable reputation as a musician who has blended many different styles to great success over the course of the past few decades, I actually find his score (co-written with Warren Ellis, a member of the Bad Seeds and Cave's frequent collaborator on film scores) to be the weakest aspect of the whole film. The lilting children's song that begins the film becomes a leitmotif that plays over any scenes set on the home front and is thus liable to become annoying, while the music that plays as Pearce heads further into the outback isn't much better; though it is mainly minimal and instrumental, instances of Cave whispering or roaring the same lines of poetry tend to come across as distracting rather than complementary. Otherwise, the cinematography is a treat as it captures everything with clarity, moving fluidly between static landscape shots and intense close-ups. Between that and the editing, there is enough going on to make the film become rather bizarre in some instances, especially with the occasional disorienting shock being deployed as a result. These factors contribute to making a film that is not without its flaws but still has enough strengths to earn a reputation as one of the best Australian films of recent years. It's violent without being gratuitous and gives us a cast of generally well-written and well-acted characters whose actions or lack thereof pose some significant moral quandaries in the name of lofty goals such as peacekeeping and civilisation - when they're not being bloodthirsty agents of carnage, of course. Definitely recommended.