The
Dressmaker
(2015)
(SPOILERS) A
gleefully warped, jet black comedy from Jocelyn Moorhouse, one that, for the
most part, manages to juggle its potentially jarring shifts in tone and plot. The Dressmaker is a revenge drama, a
murder mystery, a comedy of small town jealousies and a morality play
concerning dark secrets, in which Kate Winslet’s pariah arrives home and, like
a vindictive version of Juliette Binoche in Chocolat,
transforms lives through her special gift of seamstressing. But Moorhouse’s
approach is closer to Joe Dante’s The ‘Burbs,
such that the outback settlement of Dungatar is populated by larger-than-life
grotesques and crazies, and is fuelled by a vibrant stylistic approach that veers
to the cartoonish.
In 1951,
Myrtle Dunnage (Winslet) returns to the town she left a quarter of a century
earlier, announcing “I’m back, you
bastards”. She has revenge on her mind, and questions she needs answered (“Am I a murderer?”) Myrtle immediately
causes a stir, rousing her caustic mother Molly (Judy Davis) from her bed and
showing up at a football game in a provocative red number. She proceeds to
engineer startling couturial changes on the townsfolk, in particular the
fortunes of Gertrude (Sarah Snook), who attracts the attention of hot catch William
(James Mackay), much to the disgust of his rich mother (Caroline Goodall).
Myrtle has both a staunch defender, the cross-dressing police sergeant (Hugo
Weaving) who sent her away all those years before, and a captivated admirer,
rugged Teddy (Liam Hemsworth), and the picture unfolds in an unhurried and
ramshackle fashion, frequently diverting into character cul-de-sacs when it
isn’t picking up the threads of the did she/ didn’t she murder plot.
Indeed, at
two hours, The Dressmaker is possibly
a little on the over-extended side. Since this is a spoiler review, I’ll note
that I assumed something of note had to happen in the last half hour, because
by the 90-minute mark we had reached a “happily ever after” point with Teddy
that seemed entirely out-of-sorts with the film’s deliciously unsentimental premise.
So, while some may be distressed at Teddy’s demise in silo of sorghum, I felt it
entirely appropriate. Indeed, the succession of deaths that follow run the
gamut of tragic (Molly), hilarious (Barry Otto’s no good, wife-beating,
paedophile hunchback local chemist) and appropriately gruesome (Shane Bourne’s malignant
rapist), but all are in sync with a picture that has unfurled a broad, quirky
canvas; it’s only the romance, as well-played as it is, that doesn’t feel built
to last.
I admired
Moorhouse’s Proof, but she rather
lost me when she departed for America, so it’s encouraging to see her back on
her own turf, delivering something so distinctive (Moorhouse adapted Rosalie
Ham’s novel with her husband PJ Hogan). Of course, the eccentricity inevitably
suggests other films and filmmakers. I was particularly impressed with how
reliant (in a good way) the picture is on its score, a wonderful piece from David
Hirschfelder, to carry the shifts in tone; playful (he gets on board with the
western element, Winslet as the gunslinger returning to town to right wrongs),
emotive, with just the right kind of complementary verve (such that when the
picture occasionally seems unsure of its path, Hirschfelder is there to guide
it). Coming across like Michael Nyman by way of Carter Burwell (there’s
definitely a Coen Brothers feel to the pitch black humour), but as if applied
to a Jeanne-Pierre Jeunet, it’s one of the best soundtracks I’ve heard recently.
Moorhouse
has also assembled a quite superlative cast. Winslet and Davis are at the
centre, exhibiting marvellous chemistry as the feuding/loving mother and
daughter, the latter taking full advantage of her frequently hilarious,
outrageous/outspoken dialogue to steal the show. Weaving’s sensitive sergeant
is adorable, while Snook who can do no wrong in anything, essaying a
transformation from dowdy to gorgeous while transitioning from vaguely sympathetic
to callous and horrid and remaining recognisably
the same character throughout.
Goodall is
also great, and Kerry Fox, in a far cry from Shallow Grave, is the despicable, Machiavellian school
mistress. Moorhouse even elicits a
memorable performance from Liam Hemsworth, something I scarcely thought
possible. Maybe it’s because he’s using his own accent, or simply because his
Hollywood roles are so indifferent, but this is the first time he’s made any
kind of impression in anything I’ve seen. It’s difficult not to note the age
gap between Winslet and Hemsworth/Snook, since they’re intended to be of the
same generation, but it’s never something that feels like a deal breaker.
Some of the
plot twists (the developmentally disabled brother of Teddy is able to provide
the crucial evidence in the murder) seem rather derivative, and there are times
The Dressmaker becomes a bit too
shaggy dog for its own good, but the general milieu and tone are so inviting
that it’s hard to resist. And I admire that the picture sticks to its guns, in
terms of attitude, not copping out; next to no one in Dungatar is virtuous or
repentant (save Weaving, who must atone for past sins against Myrtle), and
Moorhouse is unstinting on the retribution in a way that proves both funny and
fitting. A very pleasant surprise, and hopefully The Dressmaker’s director won’t take another 18 years to make her
fifth feature.
Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.
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