David O'ConnellThe Road
January 19th 2010 05:11
This dour, yet transcendent, trek through a blighted, post-apocalyptic wasteland was director John Hillcoat’s reward for The Proposition (2005), a film which earned him plaudits both here and abroad. His meticulously crafted follow-up - long held back by a studio attempting to predict an opportune moment to drop this bleak bombshell into the public's lap - has been worth the wait and proves again he’s not one to shy away from difficult, uncommercial stories.
Adapted by Joe Penhall, Cormac McCarthy’s award-winning novel The Road charts the relentless grind of a father (Viggo Mortensen) and his son (Kodi Smit-McPhee) through a no-man’s land in which life is nearly non-existent. Sunlight has been forever erased from this place; animals and wildlife have been extinguished too by the shockwaves of some unspecified disaster. Every road, every surface is smeared in the unrelenting drabness of washed-out greens and ashen greys. Every step feels like ploughing through quicksand. Watching it all unfold in the early scenes, beneath the forlorn narration of the tormented father, is like watching a charcoal illustration slowly rise to reluctant life.
Deceptively, the film opens with a splash of radiant colour, but it’s a cruel, false dawn, a memory rising from a past on the edge of extinction. As the 'Man' is torn from his uneasy dreams, the stark reality of what the world has become consumes everything. Its grip on our consciousness never relents from that point onwards. Just as severely, the intermittent flashbacks quickly advance into equally grim circumstances leading up to the separation of the pair with the wife (Charlize Theron) who abandoned them.
The pedestrian pacing of Hillcoat’s vision may be a test of endurance for some. In a sense it’s a very minimalist film; little happens and few humans are encountered along the way. Only Robert Duvall as a near-blind old man has any meaningful interaction with the pair, but with such a callous, singular mentality in place, he’s soon abandoned. Roving bands of makeshift cannibals scour about in search of meat, posing a threat should the father and son's guard ever be lowered, but their most grueling battle is the one waged against the ravaged landscape. The world seems to be freezing over and wallowing in mud.
So how do these shrunken human figures summon the energy to forge on, covering every next step knowing they’re surely doomed? That’s where the power of both McCarthy’s scenario and Mortensen’s memorable portrayal of the 'Man' lie. Somehow he’s able to will his shell of a body onwards, to keep his son in motion whilst protecting two remaining bullets, primarily to quicken their salvation should the circumstance arise and saving themselves from greater suffering at the hands of savages. In effect, they keep one another alive.
Again, Hillcoat brings collaborator Nick Cave along for the ride, not in a writing capacity as with The Proposition, but solely as composer with his trusty aide Warren Ellis sharing duties. Their mournful, low-key accompaniment adds another meaningful layer to a film which may have bogged down in monotonous silence without it. Its appropriateness has been questioned by some, but for me it's discreetly spotted and never feels overly-intrusive.
The Road is probably as grim as any story told in recent times, a sobering alternate glimpse of an agonisingly possible fate. Regardless of whether it's prophecy or demented fantasy, as a film experience it cuts to the core of our humanity, opening wounds before our eyes to witness the power of a destruction that’s ours to accomplish.
Though the basic concept is ripe with possibilities, does it translate into great cinema? Well perhaps not great, but very, very good at least, which is a credit to the artists involved considering the lack of momentum and absence of tension (a couple of getaways from sticky situations end with cut-aways that are just a little too convenient really).
Mortensen is a formidable presence, carrying virtually every scene; he justs gets better every time I see him on screen and in last year's Appaloosa I thought he was nothing short of magnificent. Smit-McPhee, so good in Richard Roxburgh’s Romulus, My Father (2007) is solid enough as the boy, though having seen the film twice now, some of his reactions seem a little less than convincing for me.
There's no doubt The Road is a powerful, affecting film. Though it hones in on a very intimate struggle of survival in the face of hopelessness, some of its most striking imagery is achieved when the lens pulls back to encompass wider shots of a world crumbling away at the edges, structures struggling to hold their shape, the horizon hazy with smoke.
The final moments of the film are a bit of a sticking point. They don’t quite gel with the consistent tone of the rest of the film and as Luke Buckmaster suggests in his review, it possibly has that pungent aroma of studio tampering behind it. Or is this exactly how the novel winds up? For the sake of reinforcing the integrity of the film, it just felt like the severity of this world could have been maintained until the very end. It isn’t quite, though ultimately it doesn’t detract much from what is an inexorable but stirring journey down The Road.
Watch a trailer for the film here.
The Road opens in Australian cinemas on January 28.
Adapted by Joe Penhall, Cormac McCarthy’s award-winning novel The Road charts the relentless grind of a father (Viggo Mortensen) and his son (Kodi Smit-McPhee) through a no-man’s land in which life is nearly non-existent. Sunlight has been forever erased from this place; animals and wildlife have been extinguished too by the shockwaves of some unspecified disaster. Every road, every surface is smeared in the unrelenting drabness of washed-out greens and ashen greys. Every step feels like ploughing through quicksand. Watching it all unfold in the early scenes, beneath the forlorn narration of the tormented father, is like watching a charcoal illustration slowly rise to reluctant life.
Deceptively, the film opens with a splash of radiant colour, but it’s a cruel, false dawn, a memory rising from a past on the edge of extinction. As the 'Man' is torn from his uneasy dreams, the stark reality of what the world has become consumes everything. Its grip on our consciousness never relents from that point onwards. Just as severely, the intermittent flashbacks quickly advance into equally grim circumstances leading up to the separation of the pair with the wife (Charlize Theron) who abandoned them.
The pedestrian pacing of Hillcoat’s vision may be a test of endurance for some. In a sense it’s a very minimalist film; little happens and few humans are encountered along the way. Only Robert Duvall as a near-blind old man has any meaningful interaction with the pair, but with such a callous, singular mentality in place, he’s soon abandoned. Roving bands of makeshift cannibals scour about in search of meat, posing a threat should the father and son's guard ever be lowered, but their most grueling battle is the one waged against the ravaged landscape. The world seems to be freezing over and wallowing in mud.
So how do these shrunken human figures summon the energy to forge on, covering every next step knowing they’re surely doomed? That’s where the power of both McCarthy’s scenario and Mortensen’s memorable portrayal of the 'Man' lie. Somehow he’s able to will his shell of a body onwards, to keep his son in motion whilst protecting two remaining bullets, primarily to quicken their salvation should the circumstance arise and saving themselves from greater suffering at the hands of savages. In effect, they keep one another alive.
Again, Hillcoat brings collaborator Nick Cave along for the ride, not in a writing capacity as with The Proposition, but solely as composer with his trusty aide Warren Ellis sharing duties. Their mournful, low-key accompaniment adds another meaningful layer to a film which may have bogged down in monotonous silence without it. Its appropriateness has been questioned by some, but for me it's discreetly spotted and never feels overly-intrusive.
The Road is probably as grim as any story told in recent times, a sobering alternate glimpse of an agonisingly possible fate. Regardless of whether it's prophecy or demented fantasy, as a film experience it cuts to the core of our humanity, opening wounds before our eyes to witness the power of a destruction that’s ours to accomplish.
Though the basic concept is ripe with possibilities, does it translate into great cinema? Well perhaps not great, but very, very good at least, which is a credit to the artists involved considering the lack of momentum and absence of tension (a couple of getaways from sticky situations end with cut-aways that are just a little too convenient really).
Mortensen is a formidable presence, carrying virtually every scene; he justs gets better every time I see him on screen and in last year's Appaloosa I thought he was nothing short of magnificent. Smit-McPhee, so good in Richard Roxburgh’s Romulus, My Father (2007) is solid enough as the boy, though having seen the film twice now, some of his reactions seem a little less than convincing for me.
There's no doubt The Road is a powerful, affecting film. Though it hones in on a very intimate struggle of survival in the face of hopelessness, some of its most striking imagery is achieved when the lens pulls back to encompass wider shots of a world crumbling away at the edges, structures struggling to hold their shape, the horizon hazy with smoke.
The final moments of the film are a bit of a sticking point. They don’t quite gel with the consistent tone of the rest of the film and as Luke Buckmaster suggests in his review, it possibly has that pungent aroma of studio tampering behind it. Or is this exactly how the novel winds up? For the sake of reinforcing the integrity of the film, it just felt like the severity of this world could have been maintained until the very end. It isn’t quite, though ultimately it doesn’t detract much from what is an inexorable but stirring journey down The Road.
Watch a trailer for the film here.
The Road opens in Australian cinemas on January 28.
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Comment by Matt Shea
20/20 Filmsight
I'm in two minds about this. I've read the book and really enjoyed it, but I don't think I found it as affecting as some others did. And then I'm definitely keen to check out this film version, but I've also become a bit apocalypsed out in the last few years.
Anyway, I'll catch it ASAP and compare notes.
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic
Comment by Luke
Old Movies
Cane Toad Warrior
I didn't think this came out in Australia for at least another week though.
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic
Comment by JohnDoe
Film & TV on DVD
This is possibly my most anticipated film of the year. sadly ii was only in limited release here in the US and seemed to disappear within a week.
Like Luke i loved the book and have high hopes for this...your review serves to add to my excitement level.
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic