Somersault

Director: Cate Shortland

Cast: Abbie Cornish, Sam Worthington, Olivia Pigeot and Lynette Curran

Release: Nationally on September 16, 2004

Rated: MA

Head over heels

Ever since its debut in Cannes, Cate Shortland’s debut feature has been eagerly anticipated. From mild curiosity to an unshakeable belief that the film represents the future of the Australian film industry, few will have missed its approach. And while it certainly anoints Shortland as a director of great skill, somehow there’s something a little hollow about Somersault. Shortland has created a beautiful looking film, filled with daring themes, unconventional scenery and haunting photography. These however only go so far, with the film feeling more like an extended short film than a true feature.

Somersault covers similar territory to Carine Adler’s film Under the Skin, starring Samantha Morton. It also shares some themes with the films of Catherine Breillat, like A Ma Soeur. The film’s protagonist, Heidi (Abbie Cornish) walks that sometimes blurred line between childhood and womanhood, along the way experiencing a series of ever more-brutal sexual encounters. Shortland documents these encounters with similarly escalating frankness.

In between these scenes, Shortland produces some remarkably delicate moments, many contrasting the ordinariness of the town (Jindabyne) with the splendour of its surrounding countryside. Her choice to use the NSW “high country” is a bold but successful one. While many Australian films feature our extraordinary landscape, few that I can recall have made such elegant use of cool climate areas. These scenes are deftly handled by the director, her task made somewhat easier by an excellent score from Sydney outfit Decoder Ring.

At the beginning of the film Heidi is living in Canberra with her mother Nicole (Olivia Pigeot) and Nicole’s boyfriend Karl (Blake Pittman). But when Heidi makes a move (sexually) towards Karl, Nicole flies into a rage. Distraught, Heidi gets a bus to the snow fields, stopping in the town of Jindabyne, where she hopes to find work. But with work scarce, it looks like her move might have been misjudged. Then she meets Joe (Sam Worthington), a local lad with whom she seems to find a connection that goes beyond the physical. When Joe leaves for work, Heidi meets Irene (Lynette Curran), the owner of the hotel where the pair had stayed. Irene arranges for Heidi to stay in a flat attached to the hotel while she finds her feet. Things start looking up when Heidi finds a job at a service station. Heidi finds herself thinking more and more about Joe; but for his part, his status as scion of a local farming family could be more important than a girl with a dubious past, who’s just blown into town.

For all its fine visual and aural attributes, Somersault feels slightly dissatisfying. The heart of the story – Heidi’s yearning for acceptance in a world that refuses to give it to her – is powerful, but after the first hour or so, Shortland seems to run out of things to say about it. From there, the film becomes a little repetitive; not to mention difficult. As a result, many of the film’s latter scenes feel more like “padding” than story.

Abbie Cornish sparkles as Heidi. She pulls off the role with aplomb, finding just the right balance between childish vulnerability and emerging maturity to make the character not just believable but worthy of our empathy. Sam Worthington also impresses as Joe. His is indeed probably the most difficult in the whole film, as he has to portray not only Joe’s bravado, but also his inner demons. Lynette Curran is, as usual, fine as Irene; while Leah Purcell and Erik Thomson make their marks in smaller roles.

While it may not necessarily represent the future of Australian filmmaking, Somersault is a brave first feature for Shortland. She should be applauded for her vision, even if the film falls a little short in the story stakes.

David Edwards

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