The Aussie Outback is one of those lonesome frontiers, like the Arctic and the Southern American swampland, that we don't really see much in American cinema. We've had a few "Max Max" adventures and that 2008 film from Baz Luhrmann, but for the most part, its exploration is limited to indie films and foreign productions. And it's usually earnest and expansive, like "The Rover" taking on the wild Western genre, or it's scary and mined for horror, like in "Kangaroo Jack" -- wait, what was I talking about?
"The Dressmaker" drives Kate Winslet's titular seamstress Tilly out to the middle of nowhere, her way-out-back hometown where some unspeakable horror has occurred years ago. And supposedly, she's the perpetrator, though she doesn't remember. Neither does her senile, lunatic mother Molly (Judy Davis), who rambles about possums and presumably hasn't had a bath in years.
There's weirdness afoot in town as well, where every character, from Hugo Weaving's delightful cross-dressing police sergeant to the hunchbacked chemist (mind you, it's the '20s), feels like a "Twin Peaks" small-town oddity on steroids.
This is all helped along by the screwball execution of a rather dark story. Reminiscent of a Tim Burton film, there's slapstick antics and clever visual gags that shove a rocket up the ass of a considerably more somber tale of clearing one's innocence and seeking vengeance on some silly town gossips. Who says we can't have fun while we're exploring one woman's dark past?
Well, the script, for one. Sometimes the story gets a little too deathly for its own good, and while writer/director Jocelyn Moorhouse knows when to slow down and let these moments breathe, much of the third act decides the film has been twiddling its thumbs for too long (it hasn't) and rushes forward with many shocking developments and hurried character beats.
But what a strong first two acts! Moorhouse has a knack for zany scene construction, and the montages, arguments and introductions all bear the beautiful feeling of brevity. Tilly takes up the local trailer hunk (Liam Hemsworth) on his offer for a date. Fifteen seconds, tops. Tilly momentarily decides to give up dressmaking for good. Two minutes, in and out. Bam. Done. And while sometimes, this hampers the overall flow of the film, it sets up an exuberant tone out of the gate.
The problems come with tone, and with how that energy can be kept up throughout the entire film. Moorhouse commits, thank goodness, to the wackiness, and she dials the Burtonosity of it all up to 11 for some inspired scenes on top of a silo at night, in a ostensibly innocent kitchen, or in a bride-to-be's frantic rush to Tilly's doorstep.
The central relationships of Tilly with the hunky Hemsworth brother (sorry, was there more to his character that I was missing?) and with her mother are given ample attention, and we feel the weight they have in Tilly's life. Winslet's soulful performance cuts through her anxiety and fear with her smiles and her tenacity, which brighten up the first act and keep the fantastical, folksy machinations of the story as grounded as possible.
But unlike Burton, Moorhouse knows when to pull in the reins. Her story is by no means "Edward Scissorhands," though she tells it as if it were. "The Dressmaker" is as enamored with its endearing strangeness as it is with its characters and their history. Gorgeous shots of sunset over the Outback are given as much care and focus as the dresses Tilly crafts for the townspeople.
The story itself, though, tends to divert its focus from where we want it most to be. The more fun townsfolk drop out of the story around the sagging middle of the film, and there's a sizable portion thereabouts where "The Dressmaker" suddenly doesn't have anything to do with Winslet's making dresses.
But it's nothing Moorhouse doesn't try to overcome by indulging in her bizarre characters and screenplay. This isn't a bad thing at all, especially if, like me, you feel as if Hugo Weaving gets far too many serious roles and needs a good scene or two where he orgasmically heaves over fine fabric.
"The Dressmaker" drives Kate Winslet's titular seamstress Tilly out to the middle of nowhere, her way-out-back hometown where some unspeakable horror has occurred years ago. And supposedly, she's the perpetrator, though she doesn't remember. Neither does her senile, lunatic mother Molly (Judy Davis), who rambles about possums and presumably hasn't had a bath in years.
There's weirdness afoot in town as well, where every character, from Hugo Weaving's delightful cross-dressing police sergeant to the hunchbacked chemist (mind you, it's the '20s), feels like a "Twin Peaks" small-town oddity on steroids.
This is all helped along by the screwball execution of a rather dark story. Reminiscent of a Tim Burton film, there's slapstick antics and clever visual gags that shove a rocket up the ass of a considerably more somber tale of clearing one's innocence and seeking vengeance on some silly town gossips. Who says we can't have fun while we're exploring one woman's dark past?
Well, the script, for one. Sometimes the story gets a little too deathly for its own good, and while writer/director Jocelyn Moorhouse knows when to slow down and let these moments breathe, much of the third act decides the film has been twiddling its thumbs for too long (it hasn't) and rushes forward with many shocking developments and hurried character beats.
But what a strong first two acts! Moorhouse has a knack for zany scene construction, and the montages, arguments and introductions all bear the beautiful feeling of brevity. Tilly takes up the local trailer hunk (Liam Hemsworth) on his offer for a date. Fifteen seconds, tops. Tilly momentarily decides to give up dressmaking for good. Two minutes, in and out. Bam. Done. And while sometimes, this hampers the overall flow of the film, it sets up an exuberant tone out of the gate.
The problems come with tone, and with how that energy can be kept up throughout the entire film. Moorhouse commits, thank goodness, to the wackiness, and she dials the Burtonosity of it all up to 11 for some inspired scenes on top of a silo at night, in a ostensibly innocent kitchen, or in a bride-to-be's frantic rush to Tilly's doorstep.
The central relationships of Tilly with the hunky Hemsworth brother (sorry, was there more to his character that I was missing?) and with her mother are given ample attention, and we feel the weight they have in Tilly's life. Winslet's soulful performance cuts through her anxiety and fear with her smiles and her tenacity, which brighten up the first act and keep the fantastical, folksy machinations of the story as grounded as possible.
But unlike Burton, Moorhouse knows when to pull in the reins. Her story is by no means "Edward Scissorhands," though she tells it as if it were. "The Dressmaker" is as enamored with its endearing strangeness as it is with its characters and their history. Gorgeous shots of sunset over the Outback are given as much care and focus as the dresses Tilly crafts for the townspeople.
The story itself, though, tends to divert its focus from where we want it most to be. The more fun townsfolk drop out of the story around the sagging middle of the film, and there's a sizable portion thereabouts where "The Dressmaker" suddenly doesn't have anything to do with Winslet's making dresses.
But it's nothing Moorhouse doesn't try to overcome by indulging in her bizarre characters and screenplay. This isn't a bad thing at all, especially if, like me, you feel as if Hugo Weaving gets far too many serious roles and needs a good scene or two where he orgasmically heaves over fine fabric.