3.5 stars. Rated R, and rather harshly, for occasional profanity and fleeting drug content
By Derrick Bang
Revenge is a dish best served
with needle and thread.
Metaphors aren’t the only things
mixed in director/co-scripter Jocelyn Moorhouse’s deliciously savage adaptation
of Rosalie Ham’s 2000 novel. The
Dressmaker starts as a tart-tongued Aussie burlesque populated by
small-town eccentrics: something of a cross between Tim Burton’s sensibilities,
and arch British films such as Cold
Comfort Farm and Death at a Funeral.
But just as you’ve settled into
what seems a comfortable — if rather scathing — groove, the story takes a
jaw-dropping third-act lurch and turns dark. Very dark. Pitch-black gallows humor.
All of which continues to work,
even as we gasp for breath. Ham had a lot to say about small-minded, small-town
snobbery — “suspicion, malice and prejudice,” in her own words — and such
concerns are the thread from which this cutting tapestry is woven. Moorhouse
and co-scripter P.J. Hogan (who brought us Muriel’s
Wedding) faithfully retain both the tone and essential plot points from
Ham’s book, and the result is a tasty blend of social commentary, mystery and
oh-so-sweet revenge saga.
The time is 1951, the setting the
tiny community of Dungatar, a one-horse town deep in the wheat belt of
southeast Australia. The film opens late one night, as a mysterious woman
arrives by bus. This is Tilly Dunnage (Kate Winslet): poised, polished and
professional.
And the last person most folks in
Dungatar ever wanted to see again.
Moorhouse slyly parcels out
brief, sepia-hued flashbacks. As a child, Tilly was hated by the one-room
schoolteacher; was the butt of every other child’s prank; was despised even by
local adults. The distraught little girl lacked the sophistication to realize that
she was being “punished” for being an illegitimate child, her mother Molly
(Judy Davis) having defied social convention by remaining in town to raise her
daughter alone.
Now, 20 years later, and having
been trained in France to become a haute
couture designer, Tilly has returned to Dungatar. Ostensibly, she has come
back to care for her ailing and now wildly peculiar mother; under the surface,
though, Tilly wants answers.
She also wants payback.
The first task, though, may prove
impossible. Molly, a bitter recluse with a particularly nasty tongue, won’t
even acknowledge Tilly as her daughter; the early confrontations between these
two women are hilarious. Davis never has been more wily, Winslet never more
grimly determined. Cackling eccentrics are an actor’s dream come true, and
Davis milks the role for all it’s worth.
Were it not for my fear that this
little film won’t attract any
attention, Davis would be a shoo-in for a supporting actress Academy Award
nomination, if not the statue itself. Yes, she’s that good.
But Tilly must battle on two
fronts. Cleaning out her mother’s ghastly-messy house, and maneuvering an
uneasy truce to remain under her roof, is just the first challenge. The second
comes when a breathtakingly garbed Tilly makes her public debut, during a local
football match. Her smart and provocative appearance has a distracting — and
telling — affect on the game, much to the amusement of local star player Teddy
(Liam Hemsworth), a hard-working farmer who lives with his impoverished family
at the foot of Molly’s property.
Sullen stares emanate from just
about everybody else, with the sole exception of the local constable, Sgt.
Farrat (Hugo Weaving). He’s atypically kind to Tilly; he’s also oddly attracted
to her wardrobe, and unusually familiar with fabrics and fashion.
Details emerge gradually; it
turns out that Tilly, as a little girl, was blamed for the death of classmate
Stewart Pettyman, the only child of powerful local Councilor Evan Pettyman
(Shane Bourne) and his fragile, heavily medicated wife, Marigold (Alison
Whyte). Nobody witnessed the supposed event, and even Tilly has blocked out the
traumatic details of whatever happened that day, behind the schoolhouse.
Despite this seething layer of
community hostility, Tilly gradually becomes viewed as a potentially valuable
resource. The first chink in the local armor appears when the plain and
somewhat homely Trudy Pratt (Sarah Snook) — daughter of the local mercantile
store owner, and one of Tilly’s long-ago schoolmates — wants to catch the eye
of eligible bachelor William Beaumont (James Mackay) ... a potential match that
horrifies his mother, who regards the girl as “common.”
Tilly accepts the commission to
make Trudy a fetching dress — Winslet’s calculating gaze suggesting volumes — and,
lo and behold, the transformation is breathtaking. (Truly: Costume designers
Marion Boyce and Margot Wilson obviously had a lot of fun with this film.)
Soon, every young woman “chances”
to arrive at Molly and Tilly’s home, every time the train drops off another
exotic tea chest laden with extravagant fabrics from France. Witnessing this,
Molly also changes her tune, and becomes a willing participant in whatever her daughter
actually might be up to.
Nor does Tilly’s involvement stop
with apparel. She also delivers a box of sweets to the elderly,
arthritis-ridden Irma Almanac (Julia Blake), wife of the local pharmacist,
Percival (Barry Otto), who keeps Even Pettyman supplied with the medication
given to Marigold. Lo and behold, Irma’s pain fades almost immediately, after
the first bite.
At first glance, many of these
characters — such as the severely hunchbacked Percival, with his hilarious
means of walking down the street — seem little more than burlesques designed to
encourage laughter. But we soon discover that almost every one of these people
has a hidden secret, or a nasty side, or both. Dungatar’s residents are
cabin-crazed, bitter, grasping and small-minded, forever seeking advantages
over one another.
The only exceptions: Sgt. Farrat,
whose fondness for women’s clothing proves much deeper than mere curiosity; and
Teddy’s simple-minded brother, Barney (Gyton Grantley), who is by nature kind
to everybody, and — of course — is shunned because he’s “not right.”
Then there’s Teddy, who falls in
love with Tilly from the first moment he lays eyes on her. This leads to an
increasingly amusing dynamic, because the lusty Molly (who knew?) also can’t
get enough of this strapping young fella. Nor can she get enough of the whiskey
he keeps in a hip flask. As for Tilly, well, love isn’t really on her mind.
It can’t be. “I’m cursed,” she
wails, more than once. The point seems hard to argue.
The supporting cast is huge, and
many of the lesser players — such as the numerous other young women — run
together. Kerry Fox stands out as Beulah Harridiene, the aforementioned
schoolteacher, whose spiteful viciousness is breathtaking even under these
circumstances. Grantley also does a lovely job as the sweet-tempered Barney.
Weaving is hilarious, particularly
once Sgt. Farrat tosses caution to the winds, and allows his “secret self” to
emerge. But his character isn’t all broad strokes; Weaving also is poignant as
we near the climax, when Farrat makes an unexpected gesture.
Hemsworth is properly dashing as
the devoted Teddy: the one person who gives Tilly the courage to stand up to
all the other haughty townsfolk.
I’m always fascinated by how
film, as an art form, can be so idiosyncratic from one country to the next.
Moorhouse’s touch is clearly Australian, the tone and sense of humor similar
but notably distinct from that displayed by British, Irish or Scottish
filmmakers. Cinematographer Donald McAlpine frames his shots in a way that is
equally unique: The landscapes, and the small-town setting, don’t merely look
like Australia; the tableaus feel
like Australia.
The story builds to a rather
unexpected conclusion, although viewers familiar with Shakespeare will exchange
a few winks and nods, after the lights come up.
This film’s many delights
notwithstanding, it’s probably not to everybody’s taste; the exaggerated
characters are straight out of a late 19th century stage farce, and the
increasingly macabre tone may be off-putting. But those who enjoy wacky “little
films” — such as The Lady in the Van, St. Vincent and Austenland — are bound to have a good time.
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