Rating: C
Dir: John Fraser
Star: Peter Flaherty, Sarah Timm, Krista Vendy, Jack Campbell
This is filmed in black-and-white, an approach forming a stark contrast to the morality on view here, which is very much a sludge of varying greys. The central character – I obviously avoid using “hero,” and even the word “protagonist” seems a little less neutral than I’d like – is Eugene Millard (Flaherty), a rather troubled urban photographer. He specializes in the seedy underbelly of Melbourne society, with drug addiction, violence and prostitution – occasionally a combination of these – becoming his chosen subjects. Less, perhaps, by choice than this being everyday life around the grubby apartment where Eugene lives, taking care of his sick father. The resulting photos are shocking and divisive, Eugene being accused of voyeurism and exploiting his subjects.
Matters come to a head when his lens captures an underage immigrant prostitute, Josephine (Timm), just one of many who is being trafficked by a local notorious pimp, “Daddy” (Campbell). Eugene seeks to use his art to free Josephine, but ends up in a thoroughly murky relationship with his questionable muse. Magazine editor Polly (Vendy) appears to be on his side, working with Eugene to get an article published that will expose Daddy. But is her interest as altruistic as it appears, or is she simply an artistic pimp, seeking to exploit him for the benefit of her own career? Then there’s Daddy, who is none too pleased at the loss of his moneymaker, and demands Eugene pay him off with $20,000 in a week, or face the consequences.
It’s the method by which he raises those funds where, I felt, I parted ways with the movie. It seems a terrible decision, one provoking a number of questions (not least: why?) and arguably making things worse. It certainly leads eventually to one of the nastiest bits of sexual assault I’ve seen, a single unbroken take I’m sure fans of Irreversible will love. Me, I’m now going to have to explain to my wife, what the hell I was watching. Because, naturally, she came into the room for that. I sense I’ll be watching some Shonda Rhimes shows as penance, and I can’t say I blame her. Strong content needs to be in the service of an equally strong message e.g. Martyrs, and it doesn’t seem to here.
Yet, I can’t bring myself to discard this as exploitative trash, in the same way some people react to Eugene’s art. It is too well-made for that, with a number of good to very good performances. Top of the pile must be Flaherty, in a role that is necessarily tragic, troubling, sympathetic and disturbing – quite the quadfecta to pull off. Timm has her moments too, though her character is considerably less nuanced. Campbell proves quite chilling, in part because his portrayal goes against what you might expect from a pedopimp. It’s just a shame these were not in the service of a better script, which seems to think shining light on evil is all that’s necessary to defeat it. If only things were that easy.