I tend to wince whenever I hear a film introduced as a blend of comedy and tragedy – not because it’s a bad combination, but because it’s one of the hardest to get right. So many artists attempt to tickle our funny bones while hitting us where it hurts, and so many come up short. Actor turned film-maker Mark Leonard Winter gives it a noble crack in his directorial debut The Rooster, a bumpy outdoorsy drama about two broken men – a cop and a hermit – connecting and potentially healing through the deployment of pensive stares and introspective dialogue, performed in Australian bush settings.
The film’s core dynamic works in contrasts, pairing Phoenix Raei’s sullen cop Dan with a violently loud recluse played by Hugo Weaving. The latter’s grubby look and sheer hermitness reminded me of Paul Dano in Swiss Army Man, the so-called “boner corpse movie” starring Daniel Radcliffe as the corpse and Dano as a filthy outcast who lugs it around. I’m not sure whether that rather idiosyncratic picture (from the directors of Everything Everywhere All at Once) ruined my appetite for off-the-grid films about men bonding, or whether it renewed my appreciation of ones that don’t follow its lead (no corpses, no boners).
Winter’s production does include a dead body: one of Dan’s childhood friends. In an early scene, Dan tenderly cups the dead man’s face with his hands and gets in close, pressing his nose against the corpse’s. Circumstances around the death cause Dan great guilt and anguish, so he acts on a desire all of us have had at some point in our lives: he runs off into the woods and says arrivederci to civilised society.
In the middle of nowhere, he bumps into Weaving’s slobbering fiend, who tells him to bugger off because “this is my forest”. But Dan has booze. The hermit likes booze. So the pair sit and talk. Their relationship is fractious and their friendship hard-earned. Several times the hermit pushes Dan away, but you know this isn’t going to stick because you can feel the film bringing them together. Everything is predicated on their union. When Dan asks the hermit what line of work he’s in – as if he’s speaking to some guy on LinkedIn – the hermit responds: “Contemplation.” This is a good example of how Winter (who also wrote the screenplay) segues into comedy: with moments that are slightly coy and knowing, but never enough to undercut the characters’ emotions.
Contemplation also describes the tone of Winter’s direction. The Rooster is nothing if not ponderous and doesn’t hurry towards anything – including introducing Weaving. When his character arrives we’re grateful, because Weaving provides the kick the film needs. Winter, no doubt influenced by his work in front of the camera, is generous to his cast, affording them meaty monologues and airy sequences, although not always to the film’s benefit.
Raei’s leading performance is admirably subtle in some respects, but his presence isn’t quite enough to carry the film through its many quiet moments. We spend lots of time alone with Dan, yet his story still feels only partially told. None of the scenes that focus on Dan alone slip, but they get long and windy, with too much oxygen in the frame.
Weaving is the film’s sledgehammer, smashing the quietude to bits. He’s the chalk to Raei’s cheese. The veteran performer gets the colourful part and it’s his grimy, grizzled face that will come to mind after the credits roll. The Rooster is not top tier in the actor’s oeuvre, but watching him experiment and push the drama into more dynamic directions provides the film’s key appeal. As a “Hugo Weaving goes feral in the bush” movie, The Rooster delivers. As an exploration of masculinity and a drama about two men connecting, it’s decent but unexceptional.
The Rooster is currently screening as part of Melbourne international film festival. A general release date is yet to be announced.
