Those who see director Daniel Nettheim's excellent film, The Hunter, will be divided into two camps – those who hate it and those who love it.
I was riveted throughout. If you're looking for a film that is subtle, unpredictable and makes you think, go see The Hunter. This film is every bit as uncompromising and compelling as the rugged Tasmanian landscape in which it was shot.
The Hunter tells the story of Martin David (Willem Dafoe), a gun-for-hire who is enlisted by a mysterious military-based biotechnology firm, Red Leaf, to secretly hunt and bring back samples of the Tasmanian Tiger. The Tasmanian Tiger is a creature with near mythical status which is believed to be extinct. Martin is a fastidious man with few attachments to weigh him down and whose life consists of going from one job to the next. Early opening shots of his hotel room with his handful of belongings lined up meticulously establish a man in whom an almost militant sense of order is ingrained.
In fact, when his contact at Red Leaf arrives late for a key meeting, Martin expresses his displeasure at having been kept waiting at his hotel room for two weeks. Never mind his layover is in Paris. Martin does not have the time or inclination for sight seeing.
From there, the film shifts to Tasmania where Martin discovers his lodgings are far more humble than he had expected. An arrangement has been reached for him to board at the home of a widower, Lucy Armstrong (Frances O'Connor), whose husband, Jarrah, an outspoken environmentalist campaigner with many enemies, went missing some months ago. Lucy has fallen into a depressive slump and when Martin arrives, the house is in a state of complete disrepair and disarray. The only signs of life are Lucy's two inquisitive kids, Sass (Morgana Davies) and Bike (Finn Woodlock) who take an immediate liking to Martin.
I loved Martin's interactions with Sass and Bike. Both child actors deserve recognition for their unaffected, natural performances. One of the pleasures of this film was watching Martin's relationship with them develop. One could appreciate how both attention-starved kids would gravitate towards this resourceful, kindhearted stranger.
Martin is effectively a mercenary, and it's to Willem Dafoe's credit that he captures the impulses and complexities of the character so credibly. He is politically apathetic at the start of the film, disinterested in the motives behind Red Leaf wanting the DNA. He isn't fazed by the war being fought between the loggers, whose jobs are under threat, and the "greenies". He is reluctant to become involved in the lives of others, and is under strict instructions to remain isolated. In fact, after he arrives at Lucy's dilapidated home and is overwhelmed its disrepair and the intrusions of two over-eager kids, he tries to find a room at the local pub, where he is told he is not welcome.
At the same time, Martin is clever and calculating, with the keen instincts of a hunter and is able to defend himself when under threat, as we see closer to the denouement.
Martin brings order into the Armstrong house, fixing the generator, scouring the grimy bath and even dumping the bedridden Lucy into a tub of soapy water and instructing her children to no longer allow her access to the drugs she has been taking to numb herself: "She doesn't need them any more."
Slowly Lucy returns to the land of living, but not before mistaking Martin for her husband. It's a tension-filled night scene where she wakes to the sound of a vinyl record of Bruce Springsteen. She wanders out to the fairy light strewn trees and she sees Martin playing with her children. Martin is overjoyed at fixing the generator, and the two excited children dance with him outside delightedly.
This is a film full of evocative movements, which all serve to drive the narrative forward and provide insights into the character. For example, there is a genuine sense of menace when the loggers turn up in their four-wheel drives with their high beams on and gatecrash a party being thrown by Lucy. They threaten violence if the "greenies" continue their campaigning. It's quite telling that the duplicitous Jack Mindy (Sam Neill) is sitting in the backseat, and his actions later in the movie set off a series of events that end in tragedy.
I also loved the moment where Martin fixes the speakers hung high in the trees and the ecstatic reactions of Lucy, Sass and Bike as the music floods the landscape.
The Tasmanian landscape is a character itself, and I was enthralled by its shifts from lush greenery and stark blue skies, to its forbidding and bleak snow strewn landscapes.
The end is both triumphant and gut wrenchingly tragic. Martin discovers Red Leaf's unscrupulous motives at the same time as he stumbles on to what happened to his predecessor, Jarrah. Jarrah had been in Martin shoes, but had abandoned his assignment, switched allegiances, married his zoologist girlfriend and paid with his life.
Martin's increasing involvement in the life of Lucy, Sass and Bike raises the ire of a jealous Jack Mindy. It also brings him into conflict with his employer, who calls him to remind him to not become too involved with "the locals".
This is a film, in part, about Martin getting back in touch with his humanity. While Martin has a breezy relationship with the irresistible, talkative Sass, it's the younger child, the loner Bike, who knows more than he lets on, with whom he forms a wordless and poignant bond. The growing attraction between the solitary Martin and the vivacious Lucy was truly believable, and Dafoe and O'Connor have a nice chemistry.
In short, The Hunter is a love letter to the Tasmanian wilderness, an indictment of corporate green and an eloquent entreaty to reclaim what is lost – before it's too late.
I was riveted throughout. If you're looking for a film that is subtle, unpredictable and makes you think, go see The Hunter. This film is every bit as uncompromising and compelling as the rugged Tasmanian landscape in which it was shot.
The Hunter tells the story of Martin David (Willem Dafoe), a gun-for-hire who is enlisted by a mysterious military-based biotechnology firm, Red Leaf, to secretly hunt and bring back samples of the Tasmanian Tiger. The Tasmanian Tiger is a creature with near mythical status which is believed to be extinct. Martin is a fastidious man with few attachments to weigh him down and whose life consists of going from one job to the next. Early opening shots of his hotel room with his handful of belongings lined up meticulously establish a man in whom an almost militant sense of order is ingrained.
In fact, when his contact at Red Leaf arrives late for a key meeting, Martin expresses his displeasure at having been kept waiting at his hotel room for two weeks. Never mind his layover is in Paris. Martin does not have the time or inclination for sight seeing.
From there, the film shifts to Tasmania where Martin discovers his lodgings are far more humble than he had expected. An arrangement has been reached for him to board at the home of a widower, Lucy Armstrong (Frances O'Connor), whose husband, Jarrah, an outspoken environmentalist campaigner with many enemies, went missing some months ago. Lucy has fallen into a depressive slump and when Martin arrives, the house is in a state of complete disrepair and disarray. The only signs of life are Lucy's two inquisitive kids, Sass (Morgana Davies) and Bike (Finn Woodlock) who take an immediate liking to Martin.
I loved Martin's interactions with Sass and Bike. Both child actors deserve recognition for their unaffected, natural performances. One of the pleasures of this film was watching Martin's relationship with them develop. One could appreciate how both attention-starved kids would gravitate towards this resourceful, kindhearted stranger.
Martin is effectively a mercenary, and it's to Willem Dafoe's credit that he captures the impulses and complexities of the character so credibly. He is politically apathetic at the start of the film, disinterested in the motives behind Red Leaf wanting the DNA. He isn't fazed by the war being fought between the loggers, whose jobs are under threat, and the "greenies". He is reluctant to become involved in the lives of others, and is under strict instructions to remain isolated. In fact, after he arrives at Lucy's dilapidated home and is overwhelmed its disrepair and the intrusions of two over-eager kids, he tries to find a room at the local pub, where he is told he is not welcome.
At the same time, Martin is clever and calculating, with the keen instincts of a hunter and is able to defend himself when under threat, as we see closer to the denouement.
Martin brings order into the Armstrong house, fixing the generator, scouring the grimy bath and even dumping the bedridden Lucy into a tub of soapy water and instructing her children to no longer allow her access to the drugs she has been taking to numb herself: "She doesn't need them any more."
Slowly Lucy returns to the land of living, but not before mistaking Martin for her husband. It's a tension-filled night scene where she wakes to the sound of a vinyl record of Bruce Springsteen. She wanders out to the fairy light strewn trees and she sees Martin playing with her children. Martin is overjoyed at fixing the generator, and the two excited children dance with him outside delightedly.
This is a film full of evocative movements, which all serve to drive the narrative forward and provide insights into the character. For example, there is a genuine sense of menace when the loggers turn up in their four-wheel drives with their high beams on and gatecrash a party being thrown by Lucy. They threaten violence if the "greenies" continue their campaigning. It's quite telling that the duplicitous Jack Mindy (Sam Neill) is sitting in the backseat, and his actions later in the movie set off a series of events that end in tragedy.
I also loved the moment where Martin fixes the speakers hung high in the trees and the ecstatic reactions of Lucy, Sass and Bike as the music floods the landscape.
The Tasmanian landscape is a character itself, and I was enthralled by its shifts from lush greenery and stark blue skies, to its forbidding and bleak snow strewn landscapes.
The end is both triumphant and gut wrenchingly tragic. Martin discovers Red Leaf's unscrupulous motives at the same time as he stumbles on to what happened to his predecessor, Jarrah. Jarrah had been in Martin shoes, but had abandoned his assignment, switched allegiances, married his zoologist girlfriend and paid with his life.
Martin's increasing involvement in the life of Lucy, Sass and Bike raises the ire of a jealous Jack Mindy. It also brings him into conflict with his employer, who calls him to remind him to not become too involved with "the locals".
This is a film, in part, about Martin getting back in touch with his humanity. While Martin has a breezy relationship with the irresistible, talkative Sass, it's the younger child, the loner Bike, who knows more than he lets on, with whom he forms a wordless and poignant bond. The growing attraction between the solitary Martin and the vivacious Lucy was truly believable, and Dafoe and O'Connor have a nice chemistry.
In short, The Hunter is a love letter to the Tasmanian wilderness, an indictment of corporate green and an eloquent entreaty to reclaim what is lost – before it's too late.
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