Most impressively, this is writer-director David Michôd's first feature. Based on this, it can't be long before he's snapped up by Hollywood. Animal Kingdom is a relatively restrained affair, but the handling of its large cast and ambitious scope is confident and engaging. Michôd, as he admits in his commentary, has basically made a film about bank robbers in which you see no bank robberies. It's never spelled out how these hoods get their money; it's unimportant. That isn't to say that there's no action - in fact, it's some of the violent moments that really stay with you. The director ensures that these moments are always sudden and brief; indeed, the film has some of the more shocking and surprising deaths in recent memory. The impact of the violence is increased exponentially by its unexpectedness and reality: these are not glossy movie kills.
Michôd hangs his story around central character J (James Frecheville), a 17-year-old who's taken under the wing of his ne'er-do-well relatives. He's an unusual protagonist in that he's monosyllabic and passive for most of the time; he has a permanently glazed, half-asleep expression and can't even muster up emotion when his mother dies. In the film's first scene, his mum sits unconscious on the couch having overdosed on heroin; he's more interested in watching Deal or No Deal on the TV than the paramedics trying to revive her. Clearly, though, these character traits are not shortcomings in the performance; in fact, the character's lack of histrionics could make him extremely difficult to like, but newcomer Frecheville strikes precisely the right note of believability. (On watching the bonus features on the disc, J's mannerisms turn out to echo the actor's; Frecheville hardly proves an effusive talker himself.) Eventually, when that emotionless facade breaks, it's a truly moving moment and very well played.
It soon becomes evident that the world of alpha males he has found himself plunged into is actually dominated by the double X chromosome. The real boss here is Jackie Weaver's Smurf, the family matriarch. Animal Kingdom is at times as much a study of family dynamics as the criminal underworld, and the unlikely-monikered Smurf is at the heart of it all. Come the end, it's clear that she can be as ruthless as any of them too. Weaver was nominated for an Oscar, which was well deserved, as she dominates proceedings even when doing little. The rest of the ensemble is a checklist of Aussie machismo, but the testosterone never overflows, the script retaining subtle character beats to offset the intensity elsewhere.
Michôd often holds the camera back as if not wanting to intrude, but the concurrent shallow depth of field lends a certain intimacy and dreamlike haze. Although shot in Melbourne, the city's sights are barely glimpsed; it's a suburban saga. The director rejects obvious dramatic lighting or composition but the film remains truly cinematic, perhaps owing to the widescreen frame and 35mm lensing. Its distinctive look is allied to a superbly ambient synth-driven score by Adam Arkapaw, in which recognisable themes are absent but the music subtly intensifies and attenuates when suspense builds and thaws. It all contributes to the unique atmosphere that proves so instrumental in setting the film apart from its ilk. How long can it be until a Hollywood film comes around dubbed the American Animal Kingdom?
Release Information
Country: UK / Region: B / Version: N/A / Discs: 1 / Distributor: Optimum
Presentation
This Blu-ray from Optimum sports a thick, fine-grained image with excellent texturing. Colours are mostly subdued but strong on occasion, particularly nighttime blues and dawn oranges. It's a pleasing presentation with a commensurately high bitrate. The DTS-HD soundtrack is superb too, environmental sounds and the score gently enveloping you, punctuated by sudden, jolting gunshots.
Extras
An ample selection for such a low-key film includes two commentaries, a comprehensive hour-long documentary and several separate interviews. The talk tracks comprise a solo affair with the director (initially hesitant, before becoming informative and insightful) and a second in which he teams up with several cast members (humorously rowdy at times but none of the participants seem particularly willing, and conversation totally dries up half way through). The Making Of, which runs the gamut from early development to post production and the film's debut at Sundance, is, like the film, measured and understated. Rather too long is spent on the casting but thereafter it's an interesting watch. Sadly there's no hint of a deleted scenes section, despite it being discussed in the Making Of that a whole chunk of footage was removed from one section of the film.
Summary
Prepare yourself for a relatively sombre, minimalist affair and Animal Kingdom may come as a pleasant surprise. It's totally engrossing, twisty, often unexpected and ultimately rewarding.
No comments:
Post a Comment