You can’t deny the profound power of this kind of filmmaking. Like most white people of that time and place, she is thoughtlessly racist, and her evolving relationship with Billy (Ganambarr), the Aboriginal tracker who guides her through the Tasmanian bush, forms a fascinating cornerstone for the film. Clare is determined, and stubborn to a fault, in her mission to exact some grisly justice for the crimes committed against her but she is also decidedly imperfect.
But she’s superb, and immediately compelling in a complex role. Franciosi - until now, best known as Jon Snow’s mum in a small Game Of Thrones role - gives a tough, deeply vulnerable performance that can’t have been much fun to film. Taking the brunt of the nightmare is Clare (Franciosi), an unwilling immigrant to this corner of the British Empire.
Kent doesn’t want us to look away to do so almost seems like ignoring the crimes of the past. Some will feel it even crosses a line, but it solidifies and deepens the journey that the characters go on - and, crucially, feels appropriate for this historical context. There are multiple graphic rapes and murders within the first 20 minutes, shot with an intensity and a resolve calculated for maximum viewing discomfort. The film’s opening act is about as savage and distressing as mainstream cinema gets. The setting here is deliberate and piercingly important: colonial Tasmania was witness to some of Britain’s most notorious and shameful crimes, and the film attempts to grapple with the impact of such brazen, callous disregard for humanity, all while focusing on a singular story. But, like last year’s Revenge, this has loftier claims than the old ’70s template. On paper, The Nightingale fits securely inside the ‘rape-revenge’ subgenre: a female protagonist is brutally assaulted, then seeks bloody retribution. It is also, arguably, a marked step-up and maturation as an artist. There are horrors here, but it is more expansive and ambitious than her claustrophobic first film. But with The Nightingale, she is trying something markedly different. The result was a horror film with unusual tenderness and obvious craft Kent’s top-hatted ghoul was easily welcomed into the horror canon (and, inadvertently, the LGBT community, who adopted the demon as one of their own). She took one of the most ancient tropes in horror - the boogey-man - and morphed it into a metaphor for grief and death. Vivid and exquisite in its illumination of a time and place that was filled with great monstrosities, but also great humanity and strength, Kristin Hannah's novel will provoke thought and discussion that will have readers talking long after they turn the last page.With The Babadook, Australian filmmaker Jennifer Kent announced herself as a significant directing talent. With life as they know it changing in unbelievably horrific ways, Viann and Isabelle will find themselves facing frightening situations and responding in ways they never thought possible as bravery and resistance take different forms in each of their actions.
As the war progresses, it's not only the sisters' relationship that is tested, but also their strength and their individual senses of right and wrong. When World War II strikes and Antoine is sent off to fight, Viann and Isabelle's father sends Isabelle to help her older sister cope. Younger, bolder sister Isabelle lives in Paris while Viann lives a quiet and content life in the French countryside with her husband Antoine and their daughter. Viann and Isabelle have always been close despite their differences. From the #1 New York Times bestselling author comes an epic novel of love and war, spanning from the 1940s to the present day, and the secret lives of those who live in a small French town.
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