Samson and Delilah

[pro-bassoonist]

Warwick Thornton's Samson and Delilah (2009) has received a preliminary release date: June 21. Winner of the Caméra d'Or Award at last year's Cannes Film Festival, as well as the Awgie Award (for feature film) granted by the Australian Writers' Guild.

Official Australian site and trailer:
http://www.samsonanddelilah.com.au/

Official French site and trailer:
http://www.whynotproductions.fr/film...724fe2cf5ca0c5

InFilm:

The biennial Adelaide Film Festival is not – like Rotterdam or Pusan – a festival of world premieres, but rather a collection of select titles from the international circuit. One exception is the Australian program: thanks in part to the Festival’s own film fund, a number of high profile local titles have their first outing in Adelaide. One such title is Alice Springs-born filmmaker Warwick Thornton’s impressive debut feature Samson and Delilah, an early contender for best Australian film of 2009. Following its world premiere at the Adelaide Film Festival, expect to see the film pop up at major festivals around the world this year.

15 year-old Samson lives in a small isolated Warlpiri community in the Central Australian desert. The film opens with a typical day in Samson’s repetitive life. Awakened to the reggae riffs of his brother’s ambition-less band, he reaches for the can of petrol for a long morning sniff. There’s nothing to do, no work, no friends, no school. Instead, Samson follows young Delilah around as she cares for her nana. He is clearly smitten, though his communication skills are somewhat limited: as proof of his affection, Samson is prone to throwing rocks as Delilah walks past or writing “S4D” on the walls with a permanent marker.

In a few silent tableaux, director Warwick Thornton artfully conveys the dead-end stillness of this isolated blackfella community while endearing us to his two teenage characters. In the early scenes we are already exposed to the competing forces which will shape Samson and Delilah’s destiny. The first is the vicious cycle of poverty, exploitation and drug use which hangs like a shadow over them, and which in Samson expresses itself as a nameless anger increasingly directed inwards: at the community, at his body, at his soul. The second is the burgeoning affection which brings the adolescents together, their only barrier against isolation and loneliness.

Rejected as irresponsible misfits by their own community, Samson and Delilah embark on an aimless, silent road trip, first by stealing a car, then on foot. On the way, the vulnerable pair learn to care for one another even as they come under the increasingly frequent threat of violence, starvation and addiction.

From the deadpan humour of the first scenes to the grueling bleakness of the road trip that follows, Thornton’s film never breaks the bond of empathy between the audience and his characters. That he is able to connect us to these wayward teens across cultural boundaries and without the use of dialogue is testament to his skill as a storyteller. It also speaks volumes about the talent of his two young leads, Rowan McNamara and Marissa Gibson.

In this muted dance of desire and despair, looks take on immense significance, as does music and visual composition. Showing an uncanny skill (already obvious in his shorts Nana and Green Bush) for making his point visually, writer-director Warwick Thornton’s confident storytelling is unencumbered by narrative aids. His trust in the intelligence of his audience is rewarded by our full, undivided attention. Using all the means cinema puts at his disposal, he spins a riveting yarn which is all the more powerful for its refusal to tug at our heartstrings or point the finger.

That’s not to say Samson and Delilah isn’t political. By placing these kids and their plight front and center, and on the big screen, Thornton is calling attention to the tragedy of an exploited and largely ignored rural Aboriginal community. Religion, government and passive onlookers - with whom the white, privileged film-goer might well identify - are not portrayed in a positive light, seemingly uninterested as they are in the drama unfolding in Australia’s backyard. In a manner which is neither condescending nor accusatory, yet without pulling any punches, the filmmakers let the audience come to their own conclusions.

Despite the good intentions which went into parliament’s recent apology to Aboriginals and Torres Strait Islanders for the stolen generations and the abuses of the White Australia policy, most Australians’ contact with Aboriginal culture is extremely limited. Much like the dot paintings which Delilah and her nana paint in exchange for a few bucks, and which the white man then sells for thousands of dollars, Aboriginal stories come to us out of context and filtered through appropriation and misinterpretation.

Beyond its undeniable worth as a piece of top-notch filmmaking, Samson and Delilah’s value also resides in its ability to share with a wide audience, and in a language we can all understand, a largely untold story steeped in the painful truth of this country’s bloody history.

Pro-B