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Audio Format: Dolby Digital Stereo Video Format: Letter Box Languages: English Subtitles: English, Chinese (Traditional, Simplified) Region Code: 3 Year Made: 2001 Running Time: 120
The Goddess of 1967 has garnered awards from several international film festivals, and it's not difficult to understand why: after a diet of soporific Russian tedium and detached German nihilism, its comparative accessibility will soothe the soul of many a glassy-eyed festival attendee. Unfortunately, its impenetrable characters and meandering narrative put the brakes on what little momentum it manages to achieve, leaving us with a measured, occasionally beautiful film that reads more like a stepping-stone to greatness than the masterwork its creators evidently intended it to be.
Since director Clara Law is obviously more concerned with the images and individual scenes than crafting a coherent whole, a plot summary is almost redundant. For what it's worth, it concerns a couple of pilgrims on the road less travelled: Deidre (Rose Byrne), a blind and much-abused female, and J.G. (Rikyia Kurokawa), a sensitive Japanese man whose interests include beautiful cars and grotesque reptiles. They saddle up and head into the Australian interior, and since this is an independent film we know that, while they're ostensibly looking for the owner of the finely-tuned automobile they've commandeered (the "Goddess" of the title), they're ultimately searching for something far less tangible.
In any good road movie, the journey's the thing: if it's not a voyage of self-discovery, we might as well pack up and go home. Deidre has a rather depressing story to tell, as it turns out, encompassing violence, rape, incest, suicide and assorted other atrocities (and this is without even considering the fact that she's never seen the light of day). Her shadowy past is revealed via several harrowing flashbacks, which even go so far as to depict her mother's dysfunctional childhood. J.G., on the other hand, doesn't appear to own a past worth mentioning, since he's only allocated a single flashback (the majority of which he spends slurping noodles), so his main function is to lend a rather bewildered ear to Deidre's increasingly bizarre requests.
The film's major stumbling-block is that, in true independent-filmmaker style, Law chooses to depict the characters as remote, clinical souls: while we are suitably shocked by Deidre's trials, it's difficult to become invested in her ultimate fate. Years of abuse have eroded whatever humanitarian instincts she may have once possessed, to the extent that she appears, at times, to be little more than a hollow shell. This may be realistic, but it's anathema to the creation of an involving work of fiction (I suspect Law may have read too many J.G. Ballard novels for her own good).
This should not be taken as a criticism of Byrne's performance, however: she's on the record as stating that she was displeased with her efforts, which suggests that she is indeed her own harshest critic. I can't vouch for the accuracy with which she captures the mannerisms of those who spend their days in darkness, but her intriguing (and occasionally touching) facial expressions possess the appearance of truth, and her vocal delivery is invested with an unnerving detachment that never gives us cause to doubt Deidre's status as a wanderer in an emotional wasteland.
Kurokawa is largely inscrutable, appearing as if his face might shatter under the strain of a smile, though he is occasionally afforded the opportunity to evoke some measure of emotion from the viewer (his sense of wonder on first viewing the Goddess is especially memorable). Unfortunately, his character's status as a cipher ensures that, by the journey's end, we are left with the impression that we've spent two long hours in the company of a stranger.
It's a testament to the perverse scripting (by Law and Eddie Ling-Ching Fong) that the bit players possess considerably more life than the protagonists. Deidre's grandfather is memorably portrayed by Nicholas Hope, whose astonishing performance in Bad Boy Bubby attests to the fact that he's an asset to any film, and Elise McCredie's efforts in the service of Marie, Deidre's mother, are as heart-rending as they are unsettling. Special mention must also go to the child actors, who are never less than convincing in the difficult roles of the young Deidre and Marie (I would hate to have to enlighten them as to the meaning of their less palatable lines).
While the film won't insinuate itself into your heart, it is by no means a failure. The cinematography is exquisite: it's largely shot outdoors, and every frame is infused with the ethereal beauty of the Australian countryside, from fields of green and mud-drenched backwaters to starlit bushland and the hard-baked earth of the outback. It's a series of breathtaking postcards, with the characters' concerns dwarfed by the majesty of land they're travelling through.
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| Important Message ! |
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Please read:
Region Code Compatibility Warning ! | | | | | |
