Snowtown: Not for the faint hearted

So you consider yourself a film fan? Last week you saw Spielberg’s latest offering in all its 3D glory, you enjoyed Ben Stiller’s latest film and not a month ago George Clooney’s fourth shot as a director, The Ides Of March, had you well and truly glued to the big screen.

Well film buffs, here is Snowtown, a film that might just remind you that amid all the often-wonderful, usually-mediocre, clean gems offered to us, some movies still go for the jugular. Snowtown is a movie the way it should be, the way it was envisioned by those Hollywood brats back in the 70s. Raw. Edgy. Tense. Gripping. Not for the faint-hearted.

It’s the 90s and Jamie Vlassakis is a teenager in a bleak Australian suburb north of Adelaide. His time is divided between slouching on the sofa watching television and roaming the streets in quiet, reserved boredom until the charismatic John comes into his life and takes a liking to the young and corruptible teen.

As the relationship between the two strengthens, the mood of the film darkens and we realise that there is another side to John, revealed patiently in psychotic outbursts channelled through actor Daniel Henshall; John’s outspoken hatred for paedophilia and drug-abusers projects onto Jamie as the film turns bloody.

More shocking to some, than many of the scenes in the film itself, may be the knowledge that it is based on true events. The John of this film is John Bunting, one of Australia’s most notorious serial killers currently serving 11 life sentences with no possibility of bail for orchestrating what has come to be known as the 'Snowtown Murders'.

Driven by a cast of unknowns and first-time director John Kerzel, Snowtown is a remarkably gripping and hard-hitting film. Henshall is both terrifying and magnificent as the psychotic Bunting, his performance intense, engaging the audience in the warming charm, tearing our nerves to shreds with a cold stare or a frightening outburst.

Then there’s Lucas Pittaway’s Jamie, silent, stuck somewhere between stupidity and youthful innocence who involves us in his unfulfilling life. Out of boredom, gutlessness and desperation for a fatherly figure he delves into Bunting’s depraved world. Pittaway’s performance captures the transition his character undergoes brilliantly.

There are other strong performances here, though. Louise Harris as Jamie’s mother Elizabeth, Bunting’s partner is also worth a mention, as is Anthony Groves as the bullying eldest son Troy. At the end of the day, however, this film belongs to Pittaway and Henshall, capitalising on their strange and destructive relationship.

Snowtown is not only well-acted but extremely well put together. The cinematography is great with powerful shots that carry the weight of the film’s dark plot. This blended with a backdrop brooding soundtrack shapes it into an intense thriller with some brilliant scenes which will shock even the hardiest viewers.

Take for example a scene in the first leg of the film – John mutilates the carcasses of dead kangaroos in Jamie’s backgarden, luring Vlassakis into helping him – they use the animal’s remains to taint the front porch of a known local paedophile. This has nothing on the 'shoot the dog' scene midway in, though, which is easily one of the strongest moments in the film, if not in any movie seen this year.

Small observations and details equally manage to shock such as Elizabeth bathing in the tub where brutal murders have taken place or the sight of a pet snake consuming a dead mouse. Jamie, a frustrating protagonist due to an ability to make all the wrong decisions, takes us on his road of self-destruction toward a tremendous conclusion that will linger with you long after you leave the cinema.

It’s not the first great Aussie film to hit our screens this year. Who could forget Animal Kingdom? The Melbourne-set crime epic bares many of the same traits as Snowtown, it too an intense and well-paced movie, filmed with the same gritty realism recurring in Australian films. The likes of Chopper and Romper Stomper possessed that same charm; similarly they also had plots dealing with heavy subject matter and controversial themes.

Snowtown really does hit you hard with a violence that most film distributors wouldn’t go near with a 15-man human centipede: torture, paedophilia, murder, rape and drug abuse.

However, it pulls through it with a skilled mastery of the camera, impressive-pacing and a realistic feel not aiming to glorify the brutality it presents. Kurzel succeeds in conveying the central themes of human corruption, lost innocence and hopelessness needed to counter such in-your-face unpleasantness.

The finished product is a gritty, realistic, demented take on a coming-of-age story. This is not The Breakfast Club, where good-looking American youths are bracing themselves for sunny college years far away from the walls of detention – This is Snowtown Australia. Our youth Jamie is coming of age into a brutal and bleak world where the innocence of his teenage years is eradicated as the real world and its demented inhabitants wander in. We watch in frustration as Jamie’s willpower grows weaker and he descends into a horrifying place, a world – it is important to remember – that is real.

A choice, then. You may choose to go see the film everybody’s talking about just now, The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 1, the fourth and most unnecessary in the Twilight franchise. No doubt it is breaking a box-office record somewhere, somehow despite nearly everyone in the western world (even those who have not even read the books) knowing what happens. Wedding, sex, baby, wolves. Good old familiar Hollywood warmth manufactured for your viewing pleasure.

Or you could go see Snowtown – a film that will shock you, make your skin crawl, and leave your nerves feeling like shattered glass. Vampires and werewolves, though fresh in everyone’s minds, do not exist. John Bunting and Jamie Vlassakis do and the Snowtown Murders are fresh in the minds of every Australian who lived through the 90s. This is a film about the real world and if you find that’s too much to handle refrain from calling yourself a film fan again.