Tasmania, 1825. Former convict Clare’s life is destroyed after a gruelling act of violence against her family by British soldiers. She is forced to enlist the help of an Indigenous tracker named Billy to trek across the wilderness in pursuit of the only thing that matters – revenge.
Australian filmmaker Jennifer Kent, four years after her surprise worldwide hit The Babadook, returns with a harrowing tale of patriarchy and revenge. Themes evident in Kent’s first film, including the effect of trauma on women’s mental health, abound in The Nightingale too. But this time around, Kent handles her work with a great deal more restraint and sophistication. That’s not to say the film is in anyway reserved. In fact, its grim sexual violence has caused audience members to walk out of screenings worldwide. The difference here is that The Nightingale’s worst moments are forced on viewers, involving us so we are unable to turn away, while this is merely hinted at in The Babadook. Kent then shows her characters’ pain subtly – a powerful combo. The effect is an uncompromising film that reels us in from the start and assaults us with the sins of Australia’s colonial past. It’s unwatchable at times – but totally intriguing.
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#52filmsbywomen the long awaited colonial revenge film #thenightingalemovie by #jenniferkent // Kent mixes together the most brutal elements of Australian colonial history – Aboriginal genocide, female oppression and exploitation, convict servitude and the moral corruption of those higher up the power structure. With no score, and serious on screen violence including multiple long rape scenes, this is a not an easy watch.
Despite The Nightingale being distinctly period, it offers many parallels to modern society (much like another recent hit on Australia’s social history, Sweet Country). While you may struggle to find anyone as downright nasty as the brutish Lieutenant Hawkins (Sam Claflin), the demeaning, sexually charged masculine behaviour is uncomfortably close to what we still see today. Similarly, the film’s treatment of Indigenous, while accurate of the time, is horrific and shows the extent to which these peoples suffered at the hands of the British Empire. It’s also a reminder of Australia’s ongoing issues with building bridges between Indigenous Australians and modern society. There is no doubt that these crucial aspects of The Nightingale will make it a staple in film classes for the next decade.
But, just as importantly, the film was gritty and compelling. The premise was exciting, the storytelling rich, the direction decisive (mostly). Kent’s sole weakness seems to be her inability to tie up narratives with a satisfying ending. The Babadook’s was laughable, and while The Nightingale doesn’t suffer the same fate, it has too many false endings in a sagging final 30 minutes robbing the film of its slow-burn momentum. However, this is a minor issue when you look at the prior 90 minutes. The film’s impeccable pacing, switching seamlessly between protagonist Clare’s foot-by-foot pursuit of Hawkins and spurts of intense action, keep us on the edge of our seats, even with the surprisingly long run time.
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You might never see another revenge movie quite like THE NIGHTINGALE, director Jennifer Kent’s startlingly distinct follow-up to 2014’s The Babadook. And if you’re a diehard fan of typical revenge films – if you get a thrill watching the wronged hero slaughter the baddies left and right while you mindlessly munch on popcorn – you might never see THE NIGHTINGALE anyway. It might not be for you. This movie doesn’t treat revenge like a cathartic experience. It doesn’t treat violence as something to be celebrated. The violence on display in THE NIGHTINGALE is something to be abhorred, much like violence should be. This movie is a gut-wrenching experience. It is brutal, uncompromising, yet ultimately hopeful. The story takes place in 1820s Tasmania where Clare, a young Irish convict, enlists the help of an Aboriginal tracker named Billy to guide her through the bush in pursuit of British Lieutenant Hawkins, who, with the aid of two subordinates, has committed unspeakably horrific acts against her and her family. Clare’s quest for revenge through the wilderness is bitter and harsh. At first, she treats Billy like any other white person would a black aborigine, while Billy, who has himself experienced equally if not more devastating losses at the hands of the British colonizers, can’t comprehend what this white woman hopes to accomplish once they catch up to the wicked men who have done her wrong. Clare doesn’t fully know either. It turns out real trauma isn’t something you can just snap back from in order to carry out your revenge in a clear, calculated manner. Real trauma lingers, forcing us to reassess who we are before proceeding with who we want to be. We are still coming to terms with the traumas of colonialism and the continued anguish caused by the actions of the Lieutenant Hawkinses of the world. But as the growing understanding between Clare and Billy demonstrates, whatever hope for healing that can be forged in the face of so much cruelty lies in empathy and compassion. And much like their journey through the bush, the road to healing is long and arduous. Nearly 200 years removed from the events of THE NIGHTINGALE, we still have a considerable way to go.
On that point, the acting is another real highlight of The Nightingale. Aisling Franciosi seems effortless in her tough lead role – the awful tragedy her character goes through must have been gruelling to portray, and she pulls it off. Claflin is at his smarmy and savage height as the intensely dislikeable Hawkins, and Baykali Ganambarr provides well-needed moments of light relief as Clare’s guide Billy. However, Ganambarr captures his own character’s tough past impeccably alongside Franciosi, and this pair give the film its true heart and soul – as brutal as that is for viewers.
The Nightingale is a tough watch from start to finish. Excellent directing, acting, and scripting, but the gritty violence means it’s not for the faint of heart. 8/10.