Review of Ten Canoes (2006) by Alexey M — 03 Dec 2007

Ten Canoes is a difficult film to describe, but an easy one to love. It moves free from the constraints of a plot, instead telling a story that has detours into humour, forbidden love, rivalry, violence and human nature. How thrilling to witness a film in which anything can happen at any given moment. Ten Canoes is a joyous celebration of storytelling and ultimately, us, the human race in all of our eccentricity.

Any review of Ten Canoes contains the information that for the first time in film history, Aboriginal actors speak in their native tongue. I am revealing this at the beginning of my review, as the film does not use this as a gimmick or marketing weapon, but as its launching pad. I, like many Australians I expect, seem to have a heightened view of Aboriginal people, which springs from lack of knowledge. This isnâ??t a racist opinion, it is a feeling that they share little in common with me. Ten Canoes helps to dispel that myth. Yes, they live in tribes out in the bush. Yes, they hunt for their food. They also however, spread rumours, jokingly insult each other, have goals (no matter how simple), tell stories from the past, meet to decide a course of action etc. These characters are a product of their environment as we all are, but how they act is essentially how I act.

Bad and good (even very good) films have been made using a plot. Great films tell a story. Ten Canoes is a film about storytelling that also tells a classic Australian story. The story is told and commented on in three time frames. David Gulpilil is the Story Teller, who reminisces over a group of Aboriginal men on a goose-egg hunt. An elder of the tribe slowly relates to a younger man a story of his ancestors. This revolves around a reserved, contemplative man with three wives, one of whom mysteriously disappears. I guess that sounds maddeningly vague as a description, but then Ten Canoes is a spiritual journey, not concerned with plot mechanics.

In the tradition of great Australian films like Gallipoli, the visuals are an integral part of the storytelling. Director Rolf de Heer audaciously shoots the hunting group scenes in black and white, providing a kind of timelessness appropriate to the material. The cinematography plunges us into the outback, which appears far more lush and beautiful than the barren and alienating Gallipoli landscapes. But of course it is. Ten Canoes contains all manner of embellishment and idealisation, part of any good story. The long opening shot is breathtakingly gorgeous and gains additional depth from a later shot (my favourite in the film) of a stone piercing the water. How dramatic can that be is probably your response, right? My answer would be: far more so than anything created by the kazillion dollar budget of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Manâ??s Chest.

Ten Canoes also contains plenty of warm Aussie humour. Humour because it is funny and warm because it loves all of its characters so dearly. In fact, the story begins with a big laugh from Gulpililâ??s narration, poking fun at a conventional method of storytelling. And who could have anticipated a moment during the hunt when a man demands a change to his position in the line for a totally unexpected reason. Perhaps the most amusing segments of the film involve Birrinbirrin, an elder with a big stomach and an alarming fondness for honey. The film does not exploit his individuality in the way an Adam Sandler comedy would, instead it gently sends him up in true Australian fashion and earns several laughs. What Ten Canoes makes so truthfully clear is that each family and society has a Birrinbirrin, who we come to love for their differences.

Only a director with total confidence and control of his craft could make a film as daring as Ten Canoes, and Rolf de Heer never steps wrong as a storyteller either. There are scenes, free from time restraints, where each character believes in a different course of action and we see the way each scenario will (or might) play out. I also admire how De Heer establishes at least a dozen memorable characters and somehow manages to provide each with enough screen time and hence, convinces the audience of the community they lived in. But did any of this even happen? One of the filmâ??s little joys is contemplating that the whole story is merely a fantasy that never occurred. Or perhaps exaggeration, prejudice, rumour and inaccuracies altered what really happened. Did I mention that this is about the storytelling, not the story?

I realise that this review seems composed of various, scattered elements that arenâ??t really about anything. Well, David Gulpilil compares his story to an ever-growing tree that keeps developing extra branches. My review tree has several branches but a rather weak trunk. Ten Canoes on the other hand has a gleaming and impenetrable trunk, because a film so positive and optimistic about life could not be destroyed by man. Besides, trees can be ideal for honey. This is a unique cinematic experience.