Based on Tim Winton’s book of the same name, this three-hour film adaptation is touted on the glossy program that accompanies the ticket price as “a unique cinema event.” That’s a pretty big claim. I mean, hasn’t everything in cinema already been done? Isn’t a movie just a movie rather than an “event”?
Hours after seeing The Turning, I’m starting to think that this isn’t all hyperbole – it’s a reasonably accurate description.
The Turning is a collection of 17 short stories based on six characters. Each story has a different director, and 21 actors play the same six characters at different points in time and in different stories. The actors are not in any way made to resemble the character with any physical consistency (quite the opposite), but character traits and names do remain consistent. There might be a temptation to compare this to projects like Kieslowski’s Three Colours trilogy or Robert Altman’s adaptation of Raymond Carver’s short stories for Short Cuts in that characters from one story make an appearance in other stories, but The Turning is so much more than these movies. And it is not one big movie or one big story; it is, perhaps, an exploration of the idea that our lives are actually made up of many stories, each branching off from another, even if we think of our life as a single story.
The idea of giving so many directors free creative reign under the umbrella of one project would appear to be a nightmare. Certainly it was a brave undertaking by director Robert Connolly (Balibo, Three Dollars) to curate the project. Yet the consistency of mood and theme suggest that all the directors interpreted Winton’s moods and themes accurately and adapted them for film faithfully.
Although the landscapes are often stunning and the cinematography unfailingly lush, an overall mood of bleakness and desolation hangs over. Set mostly on a windswept Australian coast, there is so much open space, yet there is somehow a claustrophobic feel as many of the characters struggle for some form of escape, or at least yearn impotently for it. For this city-dweller such places – the empty coastline, the barren outback, the ramshackle caravan parks and even the somewhat familiar bushland – can be unsettling. The settings here have a powerful presence, and the characters seem shaped by them.
Although The Turning does have an overall cohesive feel to it, each production team has employed a variety of devices to tell their story.
We open with an animation preface by Marieka Walsh and featuring the voice of Colin Friels. Based on T.S. Eliot’s poem Ash Wednesday, the shadowy, sepia tones suggest memories of things past, never to be regained.
The first story, Big World, directed by Warwick Thornton, is heavy on narration and is just short enough to pull it off. It is a poignant story about two friends dreaming of a better life as they leave their shitty little town and embark on their life adventure. That their future is recounted from a point in the unknowing present makes this a powerfully sad story that sets the theme of escape and suggests that we can not escape what fate has in store for us.
From here we have a couple of stories with little or no dialogue. Abbreviation directed by Jub Clerc is a first kiss/lost love story, while Robert Connolly’s Aquifer is a moody mystery, this time about escaping one’s past.
By contrast, Damaged Goods by Anthony Lucas again has a mystery element with an interesting use of split screen. It’s an achingly sad story about possibility that questions the true nature of love, while Small Merciesby Rhys Graham is about recovery, return and resilience.
Ashlee Page’s adaptation of On Her Knees features Susie Porter is a personal favourite. It is a Raymond Carver-esque story about a moral dilemma and, in this case, doing the right thing in spite of what is being done to you. So deftly executed, it really is an understated little masterpiece.
Claire McCarthy’s take on The Turning is truly one of the stand-outs. It is brutal and so very real in its look at domestic violence, human fragility and the true complexity of human nature. It starts out being one thing, ends up being another and as confronting as it is it has moments of unexpectedly warm humour. Rose Byrnes gives a stunning performance.
Stephen Page tackles a story of sibling rivalry told without dialogue in Sand. It gets bogged down a little with some of the visual diversions. Likewise, Family by Shaun Gladwell is not one of the stronger stories but is nevertheless a well-shot story of redemption.
Long, Clear View is the earliest version of main character Vic. He is a weird little guy who seems not part of this world. This is a quirky snapshot set in suburbia, and Matthew Shanley as Vic is a joy to watch, and who, in spite of the character’s apparent detachment, brings a real warmth to the screen.
Reunion by Simon Stone is probably the weakest of the stories, especially given that it stars Cate Blanchett, Richard Roxburgh and Robyn Nevin and was written by Andrew Upton. Character and story development here is the problem. Early family conflict is promised but not delivered and the single joke of he story is worked more than it needs to be. Good concept that completely misses its potential.
Actor David Wenham directed Hugo Weaving in Commission, and the result is so good in every way. It’s a slow, father-son drama that gradually shares the details of the past until we have the final picture of what is going on. Laconic, damaged Australian masculinity done to perfection.
Fog by Jonathon auf der Heide is flawed plot-wise but is intriguing and has some strong performances. Again, there is this need to escape, and the landscape here proves hostile.
Justin Kurzel (Snowtown) tackles Boner McPharlin’s Moll and is one of the humorous parts of the collection, albeit it’s shrouded in dark humour. Boner McPharlin is a real-life myth that everyone has stories about, making it funny and disturbing.
Immunity by Yaron Lifschitz is one of the most surprising interpretations of all of the stories. Graceful and mesmerising, if you haven’t wanted to pick up the book by now (assuming that like me, you haven’t already read the book), this will do it for you. Inventive and utterly gorgeous.
The film closes with Defender by Ian Meadows with some really strange, unexplained stuff here but is still a strong personal drama that’s well played out. Dan Wyllie’s version of Vic has come a long way from – and yet is perhaps also so very close to – his youngest version.
Casting and performances were universally excellent. Whether seasoned veterans or young ones, they all had moments that allowed us to glimpse the very real humanity of the characters they were portraying. There are moments in almost every story that will break your heart in some way.
It could be argued that if the movie requires a detailed program complete with timeline and family tree, it has not succeeded in being its own entity. I prefer to think that the program enriches an otherwise already rich experience. The Turning as a movie does stand alone, it does make me want to read the book. And it’s not often that I want to watch a three-hour movie again. It’s that good.
From here.
