A young arrival at an Australian nunnery begins to exhibit unusual powers in Warwick Thornton's fantastical drama.
Curiously muscular for a four-foot-something nine-year-old, his steely eyes poking out from under sun-bleached sandy tresses, newcomer Aswan Reid cuts a striking figure as a nameless Aboriginal child who may or may not be the earthly reincarnation of Jesus Christ in the latest film from Warwick Thornton. We’re in the thick of World War Two, though at the Outback nunnery overseen by Sister Eileen (Cate Blanchett), they feel the fighting less than its attendant austerity. The kid referred to by the title phrase came to this remote outpost as captured chattel, but there’s an Edenic quality of mercy in their dutiful day-to-day.
Our good boy possesses supernatural faith-healing abilities taking the shape of a spark that flits around the air like a glowing gnat, though the film complicates the white inclination to see indigenous peoples as supernatural conduits between the physical and metaphysical planes. His ability to absorb and withstand others’ pain places him closer to saintly than magical, an ambiguous variant of transubstantiation that befits a turbulent religious current.
With a mix of righteous anger and abiding serenity, Thornton terraforms the Wild West of his home nation into a spiritually parched landscape. He also refuses the responsibility of nourishing its inhabitants, making his pint-sized onscreen avatar – in both the secular and sacred senses – a saviour in spite of himself.
Published 12 Mar 2024
Cate Blanchett teams up with one of Australia’s best writer-directors for this desert-bound fable.
Strong performances, big ideas, but some elements work better than others.
Memorable for its superbly expressive central turn by Aswan Reid.
By Aimee Knight
Warwick Thornton’s gorgeous period drama cuts to the heart of Australia’s dark colonial past.
To celebrate the release of Sweet Country, seek out these amazing works directed by and starring native Australians.
In 1979, the first Australian film directed by a woman since the silent era signalled a new dawn for female authorship.
Little White Lies was established in 2005 as a bi-monthly print magazine committed to championing great movies and the talented people who make them. Combining cutting-edge design, illustration and journalism, we’ve been described as being “at the vanguard of the independent publishing movement.” Our reviews feature a unique tripartite ranking system that captures the different aspects of the movie-going experience. We believe in Truth & Movies.
