I don't like Baz Luhrmann. William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet is on my hypothetical list of the 10 worst movies ever. (Sorry, Sandra and Cori.) I didn't care for Moulin Rouge beyond the costumes and cinematography. Nicole Kidman hasn't impressed me in years. Epics aren't my thing.
And yet I said I wanted to see Australia. I wanted to see it on the big screen, figuring such grandeur needed largesse.
Shame on me.
Listen, dear readers: I shall tell you of a magical land called Oz.
No, not that Oz. I wish it were that Oz.
In this Oz, we have a fish out of water, the plight of the Aboriginals, a cattle drive, rival ranchers, mismatched lovers, World War II and an oft-referenced Judy Garland ditty - all in two hours and 45 minutes. Sounds like a laundry list? Then welcome to Australia, an epic that endures for all the wrong reasons.
Baz Luhrmann seems to want to direct 1940s-style grandeur as if he made Australia in the 1940s. This means obvious soundstage sequences, bad CGI, awkward cutaways and a Nicole Kidman performance that wants to evoke Katharine Hepburn but plays as scattered or cold. Kidman can't register emotion on her face: Sad, concern and compassionate all read as "constipated," while her vocal mannerisms during the early Outback scenes make her sound hysterical. Luhrmann directed Kidman to an Oscar nomination in 2001's Moulin Rouge. What happened here?
The Sexiest Man Alive shows up in the Clark Gable/Rhett Butler role as the Drover. Even after Kidman's Lady Sarah Ashley gets together with our independent-minded cattle man, he's still "the Drover," "Mr. Drover" or just "Drover." Apparently, Australia's four screenwriters couldn't be bothered to provide a first name for Hugh Jackman's character. He's nice to look at, though, whether clean-shaven in a dinner jacket or rugged and unkempt.
Luhrmann tries to inject a history lesson/apology by weaving in the abysmal account of the Stolen Generations, where mixed-race Aboriginal children were removed forcibly from their families and integrated into white society. Meet Nullah (non-pro Brandon Walters), a young boy orphaned after his Aboriginal mother dies and his white father (Ashley rival Neil Fletcher, played by David Wenham) never acknowledges him. Nullah serves as narrator, parenting link to barren Lady Sarah and widowed Drover, cute child, etc. The Aboriginal past is a woeful subject worth learning, but one better covered in 2002's Rabbit-Proof Fence. Nullah's narration also eventually becomes precocious.
I haven't even touched on the Wizard of Oz/"Over the Rainbow" motif - sweet initially, beaten down by the fifth reference. Or the fact that Australia feels like at least two movies. It could have ended at an hour and 40 minutes in as an OK adventure saga. But no, we had to involve the war, separate our lovers after a quarrel and further illustrate the plight of the Aboriginals. (All right, that last part was compelling.) This section has the look and feel of a Pearl Harbor sequel, something no one was clamoring for.
Did I like anything? The orangey light at Faraway Downs was lovely, the cattle drive suspenseful and scary. (You'll worry about being trampled.) I could stare at Jackman for hours. None of this is enough to sustain two hours and 45 minutes.
What did I learn from Australia? Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion are the only ones who should transport anyone to any Oz.
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Hated "Moulin Rouge," thought Nicole Kidman was overlooked in "The Others," which I believe was the highlight of her career, and now have ABSOLUTELY NO DESIRE to see "Australia" (Hugh Jackman notwithstanding).
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