A heavily marketed and unsuccessful Stan TV miniseries co-created by Dylan River (from Alice Springs, "son of Warwick Thornton and producer Penelope McDonald") who also co-wrote and directed. The other co-creator was Tanith Glynn-Maloney. Notionally for Miranda Otto and Noah Taylor who both do what they can with a tiresome pile of cliches. Noah's a long way from his days of suave urban comedic cool in He Died with a Felafel in his Hand; blame the writing. In eight brief (less than 30 minute) episodes that could've been squashed into a single movie.
With heavy thievery from Stephan Elliott (The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, Welcome To Woop Woop) and much of the ozploitation canon, Sherry-Lee Watson slips out of juvie to visit her (let's say) spiritual father in hospital who wants her to return a cup to her biological father but is really angling to make good on an imagined slight before carking it on country. After thieving prostitute/madam Otto's taxi to get to the distant camp she encounters preacher/comedic relief Taylor and son/patent love interest Will McDonald. And as everyone knows by now, all roads in Central Australia lead to Coober Pedy and/or away from Alice Springs.
The remaining seven episodes parade a familiar and predictable gallery of grotesques as the three couples (Otto commandeering Taylor's caravan and tow vehicle and a pair of police detectives) proceed with their respective McGuffin hunts. There's a sweet but unimaginative scene where some bush mechanics unbog the young couple that would've almost have been at home in The Turning if it wasn't ruined by the black magic immediately preceding it. The climactic episode is set in urban Adelaide and thereabouts. A highly dubious thoroughbred breeding family is used to take pot shots at the landed gentry/bunyip aristocracy. Each scenario is very tidily resolved within its episode. The cinematography is good but does not innovate.
The production aims for a prelapsarian 1983 or so, which is about a decade before Dylan River was born. The presence of unleaded fuel implies it is set in the later 1980s and the absence of leaded fuel makes it nowhen. (Similarly the Stuart Highway never looked like that.) If the point was to exhibit some classic Australian cars I'd suggest the filmmakers spend more time in South Australia; just come to Whyalla! The dialogue is fatally anachronistic with lead Watson acting out just like the Millennial she is. (The words of wisdom she voices at either end of each bout are shockingly unoriginal.) It's all too shallow-sophisticated, too pale an imitation of Tarantino or the Coen brothers, for the era. Though of course the wholesale appropriation is bang on.
Luke Buckmaster: five stars, instant classic. I wish I saw what he was watching. I have yet to listen to Jason Di Rosso's take.
