Think I'm gonna have to break this down into a list.
-- For two weeks now I've been filling in for two coworkers on vacation. Busy and frazzled = John.
-- I'm genuinely sorry I haven't updated the blogs with anything. I know you guys have been wondering what the deal is and, as is usually the case, it all comes down to boring "real life" stuff.
-- It's probably going to be another week before anything happens.
-- But take heart! I'm itching to do some writin' (and rightin') and can't wait to get back in that saddle and ride like nobody's business. (Wow that sounded dirty.)
-- In non-apology news, earlier tonight a friend and I watched Stoker. Great movie, highly recommended!
-- Earlier earlier tonight, the Epix premiere of Madonna's MDNA Tour happened. I saw this show live twice last year and it was mindblowing. The Epix show doesn't quite capture the magic of the real thing, but it's more than worthy nonetheless.
-- You younger folks can keep this mess...
-- I'm sticking with the real deal...
---- Booya.
-- I leave you with a modern torch song. Beautiful...
Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place...
Have you ever had a piece of art, be it a song, a painting, a doll, move you -- touch you -- so much, that to put into words what it is seems impossible, even futile? That to try to even begin to explain what it means to you, and how it has affected you, is to almost belittle it? Sometimes a work, whatever the medium, connects with you so deeply that it feels like it has been there all along, already a part of your DNA, a component of your molecular structure. You just weren't aware this part of yourself existed until you experienced it "face to face". And then when you do experience it, suddenly so much about the world, and yourself, (because let's face it, we all ultimately view ourselves as the world), makes sense. That's what I had the first time I watched Peter Weir's 1975 film, Picnic at Hanging Rock. It's impossible to really explain just what Hanging Rock is and why it's so special, much less what it truly means to me, but I'll try to detail what makes it so unique. Rarely do you come across a film that is so subtle, yet so cataclysmic.
Picnic at Hanging Rock was only Australian director Peter Weir's second major film. I'm using the word "major" loosely; Hanging Rock was funded almost entirely independently. It was released before the "independent film" market was a thing, before it was it's own striving mini-industry. Hanging Rock didn't even get US distribution until early 1979. I'm not pointing out Hanging Rock's independent roots to signify some sort of foolhardy "cool" factor for the film, but to highlight that it was so good it eventually reached Hollywood, at a time when that was virtually unheard of for Australian cinema. It stands alongside Nicolas Roeg's 1971 film Walkabout (another great movie, though it doesn't touch me on as deeply a level as Hanging Rock), as the film that kickstarted Australia's new wave, bringing Aussie cinema to a much larger worldwide audience. To my understanding Hanging Rock is such a pop culture phenomenon in Australia that it has developed it's own cottage industry (Hanging Rock is real place), to the point that many natives have started to rebel against it, a sort of Aussie Citizen Kane. Whatever the modern homeland connotations of Rock, there's no denying it's quicksilver ability to hook those expecting a staid period drama but getting an altogether different beast entirely.
Don't let the period costumes fool you, there's some crazy shit going on here.
Before we get into the real meat of this film I must share a major spoiler. When (if?) you watch it you'll think I've ruined the film for you (if you've not yet seen it and want to, that is). Trust me, it's better to go into Rock knowing the end than to not. The basic thrust of the film involves a few people who go missing. They are never found, there's no resolution to their disappearance. Once you let go of needing an answer to what happened to these people you can freely tune in to Rock's character-driven narrative and focus on the symbolic actions of the people left behind, and the subtle clues scattered throughout that nudge you along the way. This is how the film is meant to be viewed -- as a character study of the people left behind after the disappearance, and the implications of the disappearances. Of course, your brain will do it's damnedest to try to solve the mystery anyway, even when you know the film never resolves it. Oh, there're also the supernatural elements strongly hinted at repeatedly throughout the film. Provocative, no?
Time stops at Hanging Rock...
Picnic at Hanging Rock is set in Victoria, Australia, in the year 1900. It's Valentine's Day, and the young ladies attending the fictional Appleyard College are going on an excursion to Hanging Rock, a real life volcanic formation in the area. They are warned by their domineering headmistress, Mrs. Appleyard, that the area is inhabited by poisonous snakes, among other things. They are accompanied by two of their teachers, the romantic, dreamy Mlle. de Poiters, who is French, and their stiff, English professor Miss McCraw, the very picture of uptight, but knowing, formality. Among the students are vivacious (for the time) Irma, studious Marion, and Miranda, a wise, charismatic, ethereal young woman who seems to attract the attention and affections of all who encounter her.
Mrs. Appleyard. Even if that face were kind the hair would still say "Yeah, don't eff with me, you'll regret it."
Ethereal Miranda
Mlle. de Poiters
As played by Anne-Louise Lambert, Miranda perhaps sells the film more than anyone else here, despite being in only the first half hour. Like Janet Leigh in Psycho, Anne-Louise Lambert is so incredibly talented and beautiful that it comes as a shock when she exits the film so early. Her charisma and charm are so potent that you're instantly hooked; you're right there with the remaining characters throughout the rest of the film, confused and bereft after her disappearance. It is Anne-Louise as Miranda who opens the film with a spoken-word quote by Edgar Allan Poe: "What we see and what we seem is but a dream, a dream within a dream." In addition to being the first clue that we the audience need to let go of literal readings when watching Hanging Rock, it works to align the character of Miranda with our subconscious -- before we've even seen her onscreen. (As said by Weir himself in an interview during the film's initial Australian release, he went to great lengths to separate viewers from rationality as early and as often as he could.) Miranda is the icon of Picnic at Hanging Rock, the first character we're drawn to and the one who most lingers in our minds after the movie is over. Not only does she sell the film visually, she is the thing that seals all fates symbolically, the one who sets everything in motion. She is the twist, and depending on how tuned in you are to the subtleties of the dialogue in Rock, you may just see it coming a mile away.
We also have Miranda's roommate Sara, an orphaned girl who seems to have a schoolgirl crush on Miranda. We soon learn she is the scapegoat of headmistress Appleyard; she is forbidden to go on the school outing to Hanging Rock, and in the second half of the film her troubles with Appleyard will come to the fore. It is anguished Sara, so put upon by Appleyard and struggling with the loss of her best friend, who is the heart of the film. Margaret Nelson plays Sara's heartbreak and confusion perfectly, conveying her awkwardness and desperation so realistically that it can sometimes be hard to watch. Margaret Nelson did a few more things in the late 70's before disappearing from the public eye. A real shame as she was clearly a true talent.
Sara and Miss Trunchbull Mrs. Appleyard
Rounding out the primary cast are Dominic Guard as Michael, a proper English chap, and John Jarratt as Bertie, an Australian servant to Michael's family. (You Tarantino fans may recognize Jarratt as the Aussie who shows up towards the end of Django Unchained, albeit as a much older man than he is here!) Both give strong performances, especially considering how young they were at the time.
Michael...
... and Bertie. (A bit hunky, eh?)
To do a straightforward plot synopsis seems pointless when you're dealing with such an enigmatic film. Anyway, the plot is really quite simple: some girls go missing in the Australian outback in 1900, those left behind must face the repercussions and/or self-destruct. As I already said, those who go missing are never found. (Well, except one, but I'll leave the details for you to discover -- and decipher.) The key to Rock is the tone, the atmosphere, the dialogue. All three elements are inextricably linked: the alternating sedate and heavy tone creates an atmosphere of contrasting beauty and unease, making each little word of dialogue, no matter how inconsequential, seem as if it carries portents of ultimate truth. Or mystery. Weir directs Hanging Rock with the precision of Kubrick, and perhaps it's for this reason the movie can be so infuriating for some. Modern (read: young) audiences may find the movie's subtle, gesticulating story hard to deal with. The pre-Lynchian surrealism and open ending are hardly crowd pleasers.
Rock raises many (MANY) questions, but it's not so forthcoming with answers. The film plays like a riddle, dropping hints and clues, seemingly pointing you in certain directions -- then turning them on their head. No scene exemplifies this as much as the film's centerpiece ascent sequence. We watch as the four ladies climb the rock, their Victorian garb standing out against the harsh slopes and valleys of the mountain. As they climb higher they seem to become mesmerized, as if in a trance, by the rock itself. They look down from their high perch at their fellow schoolmates lounging far below. In a detached voice, Marion observes, "A surprising number of human beings are without purpose, though it is probable that they are performing some function unknown to themselves." A bit later Miranda dreamily observes, "Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place." Hmm... just what's happening here? The girls continue climbing, taking a break to bask in the glory of the sun, breezily dancing on the rock outcroppings and simply gazing at the natural wonders around them. They even take their shoes and socks off, an act considered lewd and unbecoming in Victorian society. They reach a plateau where they all fall to the ground in unison for a brief nap. Ants crawl across their legs while a lizard passes by. They wake up in unison and in single file, small smiles of acceptance on their faces, climb the final perch. It's the last time they're seen. This ascent sequence lasts about ten minutes and is the best moment in the film. It takes on a strong surreal tone, the combination of dialogue, acting, and especially music, giving the whole event an odd tone, one that leaves you puzzled and intrigued.
Transcendentalism? What transcendentalism?
This would be the modern equivalent of, I don't know, Lindsay Lohan or something.
From this moment on one begins to wonder just what they're seeing, and everything that follows -- and everything that came before -- seems loaded with meaning. Why was Miss McCraw looking at a mathematical diagram just as the girls made their final ascent? Is that a clue to their disappearance? Why does Sara whisper Bertie's name early in the film? And why does he see her in a dream towards the end? Miranda told Sara before leaving on the trip that she wouldn't be around much longer. Did she know what was going to happen? Why is Mrs. Appleyard so disappointed in Miss McCraw? Did they have a connection we don't know about? When Michael makes his important discovery why does he hear the girls' voices in his head? What exactly is the relationship between Mrs. Appleyard and Sara? Why does she seem to hate the poor girl so much? And what's with the color red? What is it's importance? The list goes on...
Okay, you survived a time slip or alien abduction or rockslide
or something. Why you suddenly wearing red, huh?
Although the ascent is the most surreal moment in the film there are several others, most of them loaded with symbolic meaning. Michael, haunted by his brief memory of Miranda, has continual visions of her, sometimes as a swan. (It's not as weird as it sounds -- there are no Black Swan-esque transformations here.) Irma, upon returning to the school, is all but attacked by the other students. Meanwhile, poor Sara has been literally strapped to the wall, a punishment for her poor posture. (It looks like a torture device -- Victorian "ladies" were tough.) Miranda, in a scene straight out of a horror movie, wields a large knife she aims right at the camera -- except all she's cutting is the heart-shaped Valentine's Day cake they're about to eat. (Notice how the camera lingers on the heart-cake, now cut in half.) Just before she wanders off and disappears forever, Miranda's small wave goodbye inspires Mlle. de Poiters to exclaim, "Now I know! Miranda is a Botticelli angel." There are countless seeming throwaway scenes that carry deeper meaning upon closer inspection: a flower being pressed in a lock for safekeeping, a chain of young ladies tightening each other's corsets, a statue of St. Valentine being held high by the girls during a celebration, the passing back and forth of a bottle of wine between Bertie and Michael. Those are but a few.
Thematic elements abound in Rock: corrupt power, the perils of Victorian repression, burgeoning sexuality, British colonization, class structures, the harshness of the Australian outback. And that's just the literal stuff. Anything beyond that is up to speculation, and Rock most certainly invites speculation! Did the girls disappear into a time slip? Or perhaps an Aboriginal dream state? Maybe it was as simple as they just fell into a deep cavern, or a boulder fell on them. But if that's the case, how to explain that pesky red "cloud" Edith saw when the girls disappeared?
Theories are many as to what happened. I even have my own -- but I'm not saying what it is. What I will say is Picnic at Hanging Rock is the kind of film that strives on it's lack of closure. It's the questions it raises that keep you hooked, that get under your skin, that make you think. In many ways the questions are the very point. It's a lush film, loaded with stunning cinematography and utilizing relaxing, naturalistic music (thanks to Zamfir's panpipe), and a much more tense, ominous, electronic score (by Bruce Smeaton). Both film and score have been highly influential -- just look at Sofia Coppola's excellent The Virgin Suicides.
Although it openly engages it's audience to ponder what it's all about there are no "wrong" answers to the mysteries of Hanging Rock. (Speaking of, how nice to have a movie that takes it's audience seriously!) And it's why this film is so very personal for me, why I'm reluctant to even say what my own interpretation is. The ways it has touched me are impossible to put into words; everything I've discussed here is ultimately surface. Rock is what you make of it. Subtle yet cataclysmic. What we see and what we seem is but a dream, a dream within a dream...
