Theatre maker. Host of INK & PAINT podcast.
Film critic for SWITCH.
Art is subjective and so are my opinions.
The animation is gorgeous, and there are moments that feel genuinely cinematic, but there’s no reason this film should be set in Australia. There’s almost no cultural engagement except what they seem to gleam from Crocodile Dundee and tourism ads, and our First Nations peoples are entirely absent. It also suffers from similar problems to Oliver & Company - it feels like a product less than a film, a very slick one, but a product nonetheless. And as a sequel to The Rescuers, it fails to maintain that film’s melancholy or emotional integrity. From a technical standpoint it fits within the rebirth of the 90’s, but that’s about all.
A monolithic act of cinematic mythology, gothic and horrifying, taking a foundation myth of colonised Australia and using it to crack open the homoerotic performativity of Australian masculinity. I was stunned and speechless and fucking adored it.
Truth be told, it’s about as perfectly constructed a film for me specifically to love as ever there was one, but it’s so bold and so unrelenting and continuously questions what we think of as being a man through our fucked up Australian concept of what that idea means.
Well, doesn’t that one just break your goddamn heart. There’s no nostalgia in this film, just the deep sadness that comes when the innocence of childhood shatters and the harsh realities, not just of life, but of your life suddenly become clear. Even in its roughness, it’s dazzling.