Australian Danny Comes of Age in the Bleak The Year My Voice Broke

Over the weekend, I was browsing through Netflix Instant Viewing when I happened upon The Year My Voice Broke, an Australian 80s movie involving a teenage love triangle. It was listed as a “first love” story, and I tend to enjoy those, so I decided to give it a try. It’s always a shot in the dark watching a movie I’ve never heard of full of unfamiliar actors and helmed by a director whose name means nothing to me. In this case, I’d have to say it was a miss.

The 1987 movie, written and directed by John Duigan, stars Noah Taylor as Danny, a run-of-the-mill teen in love with the slightly older Freya (Loene Carmen), who has been his close friend since early childhood. Danny serves as our narrator; we often get to hear his thoughts, and even if he weren’t narrating we’d have a pretty good idea of them because of his tendency to make his internal monologue external and to voice desperate prayers about his love life. Danny is fairly likable; it’s easy to feel sorry for him as the stereotypical nice guy who always finishes last. On the other hand, he’s a bit pervy, peeking in on Freya through the window as she undresses and keeping a pair of her underwear as a totem.

I like him better than Freya, though. Granted, she has a compassionate side that particularly comes out when she is visiting with the elderly, and she does seem to cherish Danny’s friendship. But she’s also stringing him along to some extent. His devotion to her is written all over his face, and if that weren’t enough, some bullies get ahold of his love poetry and decide a public recitation is in order. One of those thugs is Trevor (Ben Mendelsohn), who quickly takes an interest in Freya, and the interest seems to be mutual. He’s supposed to be the typical jerk jock, though in terms of looks he’s got nothing on Danny, and I would think his hyenic laughter would be enough to send anyone packing before too long. Even worse are his prankster tendencies, which often result in truly dangerous stunts.

While Trevor’s behavior is especially abhorrent, the antics of most of the teens here had my mom yelling at the TV. They’re vulgar and disrespectful, they engage in injurious roughhousing and they’re constantly smoking. On the one hand, they seem incredibly juvenile; on the other, they run loose without any sort of parental supervision. The movie is very visually dark, and it matches the emotional tone of the film. Reminding me a bit of Rebel Without a Cause, only with a much more indie feel to it, The Year My Voice Broke – which takes place in 1962 – feels almost unbearably bleak most of the time.

In addition to that, the cinematography is shaky and none of the stars stands out as a particularly good actor. Mostly, they all sound as if they’re mumbling. I suppose the heavy accents don’t help with that, but I also blame poor delivery. The only character who really grabbed me was Jonah, a wise, eccentric adult friend of Danny’s. He is played by Bruce Spence, and while I didn’t recognize his name, he has had roles in several major film franchises, including Star Wars and Lord of the Rings, which doesn’t surprise me since his was the only performance that truly captured by attention. He seems like a veteran who knows what he’s doing.

But he’s not in the movie enough to make it worthwhile for me. Though there are elements of the film that are reasonably engaging, the movie mostly just left me feeling flat and wishing I’d picked something else. While Danny picks up the pieces of his broken heart (and voice), I think I’ll go look for a more enjoyable movie.

Marsupials Abound in Mickey and Goofy Down Under

My brother Benjamin Is in Australia right now. He’s there for a three-week visit, which has been planned for several months. In Mickey and Goofy Down Under: An Adventure in Australia, part of Disney’s Small World Library, the trip to the smallest continent is much more last-minute.

Goofy and Mickey go to Australia on a special mission: to find out why the latest shipment of eucalyptus leaves for the zoo’s koala enclosure never arrived. Now, this element of the story strikes me as pretty silly. Can’t they just call the company and ask what’s going on? And shouldn’t the company, upon realizing that their star eucalyptus collector never came back, have sent out a scouting party days ago to retrieve the adventurer (as well as the all-important leaves)? But if all that had happened, that wouldn’t have gotten Mickey and Goofy to Australia, and the Small World Library would be missing a very important volume.

The book’s plot is all about searching for the missing Dingo Dan, a rugged outdoorsy type who hasn’t been seen in a couple of weeks. But the plot is almost secondary to their exploration of the Outback. I’ve always loved the movie The Rescuers Down Under, and many of the animals featured in that animated classic put in an appearance here. Almost every page seems to introduce a new animal: kangaroo, frilled lizard, dingo, platypus… It’s a fairly short book, but readers get a strong sense of the diversity of Australia’s wildlife.

As a full-blown LOST fanatic, I also enjoyed seeing Ayers Rock, referenced in the show as Uluru. This large cliff, regarded by some as sacred, features ancient aboriginal artwork. The story itself doesn’t depict any aborigines, but the notes in the back mention them, and an illustration is included. Another site of LOST significance is Sydney, where Mickey and Goofy begin their Australian adventure. We don’t spend much time there, but the famous Sydney Opera House is prominently featured on two pages. Oddly, it isn’t identified, but then the main focus here is really on the wildlife.

Children who read this book will get a quick lesson on Australian animals, especially marsupials of various types. A boomerang also comes into play in the story, albeit mostly for comical effect, and the notes in the back mention the Great Barrier Reef and its abundance of coral. The illustrations capture all of this very effectively.

Mickey and Goofy Down Under isn’t nearly as perilous a tale as The Rescuers Down Under, but it’s a fun story that serves as a nice introduction to some basic aspects of Australia and of marsupials. For youngsters, it’s way to cultivate interest in a truly fascinating country.

Three Novice Actresses Bring an Epic Journey to the Screen in Rabbit-Proof Fence

I’ve always found Australia a fascinating country. This week, I discovered that I still have a lot to learn about this continent with a dazzling array of wildlife and a crucial connection to several of my favorite movies, television shows and songs. Rabbit-Proof Fence, directed by Philip Noyce and based on the book by Doris Pilkington, daughter of the main character, exposed me to a dark chapter of Australian history with which I was entirely unfamiliar.

Rabbit-Proof Fence is the story of sisters Molly (Everlyn Sampi) and Daisy (Tianna Sansbury) and their cousin Gracie (Laura Monaghan). These three girls were a part of what is called the Stolen Generation, as for several decades, the government removed children who were of mixed heritage from their Aboriginal homes in order to integrate them into white society, where they would eventually intermingle with other Caucasians so that by the time a couple of generations had passed, no obvious trace of Aboriginal ethnicity would remain. In many cases, the white parents were men who had worked near Aboriginal settlements and moved on, so these children left loving mothers and extended families to be raised in orphanages.

Molly, Daisy and Gracie were only three of thousands of children taken in this manner. What’s unusual about them is the fact that they escaped the orphanage to which they had been brought and evaded capture while walking the 1500 miles back home through largely inhospitable terrain. The movie is rated PG but still manages to effectively convey the harsh conditions the girls faced and the cruelty of their forced separation from their families.

As they progress in their journey, they find themselves obliged to rely upon the kindness of strangers from time to time - even though news of their escape has spread far and wide, rendering them extremely susceptible to kidnapping. Each encounter with another person is filled with tension as we wonder if they are placing their trust in the right people and whether they can be clever enough to elude captors yet again if a supposed new friend turns out to be a threat.

Kenneth Branagh is the only actor in the film I recognized, and he portrays the prime antagonist. As Chief Protector of Aborigines in western Australia, A. O. Neville presents a cool, professional face to the world, and while the orphanage children call him “devil” behind his back, he actually seems to have convinced himself that he is doing them a favor. Branagh has a certain undeniable charm about him that makes it seem more likely that he could have most of his peers persuaded that he was enforcing the proper course of action. That his rhetoric almost seems to make sense at times renders him all the more chilling.

The other adult who has a fairly large role to play is David Gulpilil, a celebrated Aboriginal actor who portrays the mostly silent tracker Moodoo, who is tasked with finding the girls. Molly is extremely clever, and we soon get a sense of the respect this weathered man develops for his prey as she devises numerous ways of throwing him off the scent, to the point that he eventually seems to slacken his efforts.

The three girls feel extremely authentic, whether they are trudging through water to avoid leaving tracks, bickering in the baking heat or sharing what meager food they can find. As the oldest of the girls and the leader of the expedition, Molly does most of the interacting with other characters, and Sampi fares extremely well as she demonstrates the maturity and vulnerability of her position. Sansbury is winning as the little girl whose exhaustion often means that she must be carried, and Monaghan may have had the most challenging job of all, as she reacts most forcefully to their abduction and is at the heart of an especially wrenching scene later on.

I’d had this movie in my Netflix queue for a while, and when I realized that it had risen to the top, I tried to delete it because I saw that it was available for Instant Viewing. However, I wasn’t quick enough, and I’m glad, because the DVD includes a nearly hour-long documentary that takes us through the process of choosing the young actresses, preparing for filming and actually shooting the movie. I’m usually not one who gets too excited about behind the scenes features, but I found this one pretty absorbing since it focused almost entirely on the three girls, none of whom had any previous acting experience. I loved the playful but respectful rapport the three shared with Noyce and their acting coach, Rachel Maza, and the heartbreaking abduction scene seems even more poignant after seeing how traumatic it was for the girls to film. Interestingly, though it happens very early in the movie, it was the last scene shot, as it was the most emotionally demanding.

I wouldn‘t call Rabbit-Proof Fence an uplifting movie. It deals with a disturbing chapter of Australian history, and the voice-over at the end reveals that hardships at the hand of the government continued to plague these girls and thousands like them for many years. Still, Molly’s determination and ingenuity is inspiring, so while the film is depressing, it is also a beautifully shot and acted testament to the power of the human spirit.

Don't Rush to See Bush Christmas

Once upon a time, a girl excessively fond of Christmas movies raided Netflix in search of fun holiday films. Recovering from her disappointment that there was no separate section set aside especially for yuletide delights, she improvised and did a keyword search. And so it was that she stumbled upon Ralph Smart's Bush Christmas, a 1947 children's film in which five kids brave the outback and risk missing Christmas dinner in hopes of tracking down a bunch of nasty horse-thievin' blokes.

The 80-minute-long black-and-white movie reminded me of something you might see on the Wonderful World of Disney, rather along the lines of The Apple Dumpling Gang. The troop of kids consists of responsible, braided Helen Thompson (Helen Grieve), the oldest at about 12; her brothers John (Morris Unicomb) and Snow (Nicky Yardley), a lively six-year-old; Michael (Michael Yardley), a nerdy Brit taking refuge with the Thompsons while war rages back home; and Neza (Neza Saunders), an easy-going, resourceful child of Aboriginal descent. With faithful pooch Kanga in tow, they set off in search of the outlaws whose trickery lost Mr. Thompson his prize mare and her young foal.

Because the movie took place in 1947, I had steeled myself for black and white, but the menu screen is colorized, which gave me a momentary surge of hope. I really find it hard to warm to a world entirely devoid of color, and that may have detracted from my enjoyment of the film. Mostly, though, everything about the movie just felt so antiquated, from the flowery, detached narrator (John McCallum) to the notion of a mother sending five kids off on an alleged several-day camping trip with no adult supervision, especially when she knows there are a bunch of bandits about.

Not to worry, of course; these children are more than a match for a trio of bumbling no-goodniks. Ringleader Long Bill (Chips Rafferty), a quintessential Aussie who seems to be easily the best actor in the movie, would probably do all right on his own. He's tough and clever, and if he weren't such a heavy sleeper I doubt the kids could outsmart him too easily. But his sidekicks, Jim (John Fernside) and Blue Kennedy (Stan Tolhurst), are useless, and with the kids' sabotage and the lackeys' muddling, it's a fair bet those horses will be back to their rightful owners in no time.

There's some nice footage of the Australian outback, but aside from a brief glimpse of a kookaburra it might as well be the American west. There's a disappointing lack of kangaroos, koalas, crocodiles and other distinctly Australian creatures. I can't decide if the treatment of Aboriginal culture is respectful or condescending. For the most part, the kids seem to regard Neza as an equal, even someone with a bit of an edge when it comes to surviving in the wilderness, but there's something grating about the way various characters keep joking about "those blacks".

Mostly, though, while this was a short movie and it was supposed to be an adventure, I was bored. The outlaws were occasionally funny, and the kids faced some interesting challenges - especially poor Michael, who lost his glasses out in the bush - but generally, I found it pretty dull. If you want a rip-roaring, kid-friendly Australian adventure, skip Bush Christmas and go for The Rescuers Down Under instead.

Steve and Me: A Loving Tribute to the Crocodile Hunter

Last year, I awoke the morning of September 4 in a motel room, having attended my cousin's wedding the previous day. Drowsily preparing for the trip home and reflecting on this time of new beginnings, I was jolted from my reverie by the sober words of a news anchor. Steve Irwin, otherwise known as the Crocodile Hunter, was dead. Though I'd long suspected that the seemingly reckless abandon with which Stevo embraced the world's most dangerous creatures might eventually be his undoing, he'd dodged deadly injuries on so many occasions that I had begun to regard him as indestructible. I shook whispers of inevitability from my mind as I stared at the screen in mute shock, devastated at the loss of such a vibrant, passionate individual, a man who crammed more living into each and every day than most of us manage in a lifetime, who committed himself wholeheartedly to preserving the world's wildest places and most misunderstood species. John Denver and Rubeus Hagrid rolled into one. What a guy.

Because I only get basic cable, I never watched as much of Crocodile Hunter as I wanted to, usually only catching it at my grandparents'. I realized after his death that I wasn't really familiar with his wife Terri at all, though she was an integral part of his show. When I watched her interview with Barbara Walters last fall, I was mightily impressed with her warmth and passion, her kindness and intelligence. This year, I caught her again on Good Morning America, and when I learned that the reason for this interview was the publication of a memoir recalling her life with her husband, Steve and Me became a top priority on my reading list.

Terri doesn't put on any airs in her book. She writes from the heart, and a sense of profound conviction pervades each page as she invites readers to share in the exhilaration of her fateful love-at-first-sight meeting with Steve, the wonder of their outback expeditions together, the setbacks they faced and triumphs they achieved in their determination to live as "wildlife warriors". I already had a big soft spot for Steve before I read the book, but within the first few pages, I'd fallen head over heels in love with the guy, utterly enraptured by Terri's dizzying descriptions. As the book progressed, she continually demonstrated what an outstanding individual Steve really was: courageous, driven, emotionally open, hilarious, hard-working, utterly devoted to his family and his cause.

While Terri, aside from some ill-advised reptile wrangling while great with child, seems to have been a bit more level-headed than Steve, her passion for conservation clearly runs just as deep. In fact, their initial meeting came about while she was on a trip to Australia to discuss placing cougars, threatened in her native Oregon, in zoos there. Steve's reptile park was tiny at the time, and it certainly wasn't the sort of place that would house cougars, but Terri believes that destiny drew her that day to the man she would marry. What followed were fifteen years of partnership, of palpable love and respect. Maybe Terri slipped on the rose-colored glasses in the wake of her husband's death, but it certainly seems as though the two were soul mates and enjoyed as successful a marriage as any couple could hope for, an especially impressive feat once The Crocodile Hunter brought the limelight and public scrutiny.

The Irwins certainly had their share of difficulties - financial limitations in the early days, the ever-present danger of Steve's work that led to many injuries, stretches of time away from each other, the particularly painful sudden death of Steve's mother in 2000 and outcry over Steve's decision to include his infant son Bob in one of his crocodile shows - but they faced them together. Back when Terri and Steve first met, she couldn't imagine uprooting herself to relocate in a strange land across the world, but when their whirlwind romance led to a comically casual proposal, she knew there could only be one answer. The epigraph of Ruth 1:16 - the "your people shall be my people" speech - sets the tone for the book perfectly, hinting at Terri's deep faith and her absolute devotion to Steve and willingness to completely change her life for him.

Throughout the 19-chapter book, she repeatedly notes that whenever she and Steve were together, she had a sense that nothing could harm either of them. Apart, there was vulnerability. Every time she reiterates that conviction, it takes readers one step closer to the tragic conclusion, and I got the impression she was working through some guilt over having passed Steve up on his suggestion that she, Bindi and little Bob postpone a planned skiing trip by a couple of days in order to extend their own family vacation together. If they had, they would have been with him the day he died, and perhaps things would have played out differently. He might not have had the encounter with the stingray at all.

But Steve never thought he would pass the age of 40. He was convinced he was going to die young, which was part of the reason he was so determined to squeeze every last bit of living out of his time. It also was one of the reasons he was so anxious to have children; he hoped they could carry on his legacy, just as he had done for his parents. Bindi, only eight at the time of his death, has already taken up the challenge, spreading the conservationist message through her show Bindi the Jungle Girl.

This is a powerful book. I laughed many times as Terri described some of her outlandish adventures with Steve, whose sense of humor kept him always at the ready for a little mischief. I remember one of the moments that stood out in the interview with Barbara Walters was when Terri said what she missed most about her husband was that he was fun. That clearly shines through in this book, and the included photographs illustrate his zest for life. In the acknowledgements, Terri reveals that she cut about 700 pages from her first draft. I can't help but wonder what fantastic stories we're missing out on; maybe she should write a sequel!

In Steve and Me, we get a portrait of a vivacious man who adored his family and who felt called to the purpose of protecting some of the world's most maligned creatures. Steve inspired millions of people with his passion for wildlife. Terri's tireless efforts, including writing this ode to their life together, ensure that his work continues.

For information on how to be a Wildlife Warrior, visit www.wildlifewarriors.org.

You'll Find Few Fish Flicks to Top Finding Nemo

Cinematically speaking, 2003 was all about one thing for me: the 12-month-long hiatus between The Two Towers and The Return of the King. Fortunately, there were a few films throughout the year that helped keep my mind off the wait. Second-hand Lions, featuring the formidable triple-threat of Haley Joel Osment, Robert Duvall and Michael Caine. From Justin to Kelly, by the sheer virtue of negative comparison. And then there was a little flick by the name of Finding Nemo…

I’m an unabashed Disney enthusiast, though I’ve tended to find the quality of their recent output largely unpredictable. I can no longer assume that I will enjoy most of the movies that bear the Disney label. Disney / Pixar, however, is another matter. This is a glorious collaboration that unfortunately is coming to an end after a string of masterpieces. When Toy Story first hit the theaters, computer animation as it was utilized in the film was a novel concept. By last year, audiences were fairly used to the medium, but Finding Nemo presented the most gloriously eye-catching animation yet. As one friend of mine put it, the film was visually very “pleasing.” All that ultramarine water through which the movie’s brightly-colored inhabitants traveled was just the ticket to cool off an audience wilting their way through a sweltering summer.

Finding Nemo focuses on two complementary quests: little clownfish Nemo’s (Alexander Gould) efforts to escape from the aquarium in the office of the dentist who swiped him from the ocean and his father Marlin’s (Albert Brooks) journey, aided and hindered by the forgetful blue tang Dory (Ellen Degeneres), to get his son back. Because Nemo is the lone survivor of a predatory attack that killed his hundreds of unborn siblings and his mother, he bears the distinguishing mark of an undersized fin. While this gives the neurotically protective Marlin another reason to fret about his son’s fragility, it only serves as an obstacle for Nemo to overcome.

After his first attempt to prove his courage landed him in the aquarium, Nemo must rely on his resourcefulness and his new friends to help get him out again. Among his colorful companions: Gill (Willem Dafoe), moorish idol with scars recalling his days out in the ocean; Gurgle (Austin Pendleton), a gramma obsessed with cleanliness; Peach (Allison Janney), a starfish who serves as tank lookout; Bubbles (Stephen Root), a yellow tang in love with the aquarium’s bubbles; Jacques (John Ranft), a shrimp who makes it his business to clean everything in the tank, including his companions; Bloat (Brad Garrett), a puffer fish who has a tendency to expand into a sphere when he’s stressed out; and Deb (Vicki Lewis), a damselfish who believes her reflection in the aquarium glass is actually a twin sister named Flo.

The tank is a pleasant enough place on the whole, but Nemo misses home. His desire to leave is lent urgency when the fish discover the dentist, a man who comes across as decent enough but dim-witted, announces his intention to present Nemo as a birthday present to his niece, who is notorious for shaking her previous pets to death. Led by Gill and aided by Nigel (Geoffrey Rush), a bumbling but magnanimous pelican willing to help any creature in need, as long as it isn’t a seagull, he plots a daring escape.

But the main storyline involves the quest of Marlin and Dory. Together, the wimpy clownfish and ever-bubbly tang encounter a number of frightening situations. They find themselves in the company of a group of sharks, led by the charming Bruce (Barry Humphries), who have difficulty abiding by their encouraging mantra of “Fish are friends, not food.” They are lured into the clutches of a grotesque bottom feeder. They must cross a stretch full of jellyfish after failing to follow the advice of a school of silver fish, whose leader is voiced by Pixar regular John Ratzenberger. They fall in with a group of turtles whose easy-going leader, Crush (Andrew Stanton), teaches Marlin something about letting go. They even make the useful acquaintance of a whale, thanks to Dory’s hitherto unknown linguistic talents. Their adventures are perilous, but there is always enough humor to balance out any overriding sense of danger. Degeneres is the standout cast member here; she makes Dory an incredibly likable and memorable character who provides most of the film’s biggest laughs. Her unlikely partnership with Marlin is very touching.

Finding Nemo broke box office records and became the most celebrated movie of the summer. The film lent itself especially well to the big screen, where its bright palette of colors could be best appreciated. But the story is just as charming and the animation just as superb on a television screen. While the adventure and colorful characters enthrall children, clever dialogue reels in the adults, making it a film to be celebrated and cherished by people of all ages. It’s just a shame the partnership is coming to an end…

Town Mouse, Country Mouse, Aussie Style

This is one of those classic movies that stations like WGN and TBS feel compelled to play over and over. Who can resist the endearing smile and inherent charm of Paul Hogan as Mick Dundee, the king of the Australian outback? Certainly not Sue (Linda Kozlowski), a reporter who flies to Australia to investigate this man who she has heard is like a Tarzan of the Bush. It turns out that Dundee has a few tricks up his sleeve, and he's not quite as primitive as Sue thinks he is. Still, he certainly knows his way around the bush, and when Sue foolishly decides to have a go at trekking the outback alone, Mick swoops in to save her from death by croc.

Mick is a fascinating character from the start, and Sue is sufficiently intrigued to bring him home to New York with her and see how he copes with the big city. He is as out of place in the bustling Big Apple and Sue was in Australia, but no one seems to mind. The naive visitor is an instant hit with everyone, and it's no wonder why. As he walks down the streets of New York, he stops to wish good day to everyone he sees. He's surrounded by strangers, and he seems to want to introduce himself to each and every one.

Most of the movie's funniest moments originate from the clash of the two cultures. Mick is befuddled by the bidet in his bathroom, convinced that his African-American chaffeur is an aborigine, and offended when a pimp uses "bad language in front of the ladies" he is talking with, who happen to be prostitutes. All decked out in crocodile leather and carrying a knife that's practically a machete, Mick is rather conspicuous. But his homegrown knowledge serves him well even in urban America, and this strine-speaking stranger wins the hearts of hundreds of New Yorkers, including Sue, whose obnoxious boyfriend is just itching to marry her.

Every scene with Mick is full of surprises. Bringing attack dogs into submission with just a stern glance. Making "herbal tea" out of cocaine to help a coke-sniffer "clear up his sinuses". Responding to a mugger with a knife by pulling his own much larger knife out and slicing through his jacket. Climbing up a lamp post to get out of the steady stream of pedestrian traffic. You never know what to expect next with this guy, and he makes this movie a delight from beginning to end. Check out this movie and meet the original crocodile hunter.