“B” Rating by Robert W. Hammerle

Channeling his inner Cecil B. DeMille, Baz Luhrmann’s “Australia” is an old fashioned, sprawling romantic epic. A loving, cinematic tribute to his homeland, “Australia” is both larger than life as well as the dimensions of its own plot. As with such classics as “Gone With the Wind” (1939), “The Greatest Show on Earth” (1952), “El Cid” (1961) and “Ben Hur” (1959), its majestic sweep and breathtaking cinematography allows it to drown out some otherwise prominent weaknesses.

“Australia” takes place on the eve of World War II. Arriving in the frontier town of Darwin from her native England, Lady Sarah Ashley (Nicole Kidman) is escorted through the Outback to her estranged husband’s cattle ranch by a brawling, independent Australian cowboy known simply as Drover (Hugh Jackman). Finding her husband killed under mysterious circumstances, Lady Ashley combines forces with Drover on a cattle drive designed to deliver her beef to the Australian Government at Darwin and break the monopolistic hold on the industry held by the villainous King Carney (Bryan Brown).

Joining Lady Ashley and Drover on this dangerous quest are several native Australian aboriginals, including a mixed-blood child named Nullah. Young Nullah, played by Brandon Walters in a mesmerizing debut performance, captivates everyone onscreen as well as the audience. To look into his gorgeous round eyes is to peer into the soul of Australia itself.

As with everything else in this entertaining if overstuffed film, the cattle drive is visually stunning. Once you accept the fiction that Drover’s small band could drive fifteen hundred head of cattle successfully through the Outback to market, there were moments that had the same magnetic quality reflected in Larry McMurtry’s superb TV saga, “Lonesome Dove.”

Luhrmann uses the backdrop of the cattle drive to play out other themes and sub-plots. Bryan Brown gives a commanding performance as King Carney, a Rupert Murdoch type mogul who is use to getting his way, even if it means destroying his opposition. David Gulpilil is the mysterious aboriginal Chief, King George, a man who projects both the strength and the tragedy of the native aborigines of Australia.

Ironically, the power and passion of “Australia” does not come from the expected relationship of Jackman and Kidman, but rather their gradual protective attraction to the motherless Nullah. While you cannot find two more attractive stars in film than Jackman and Kidman, I suspect that fruit flies mate with more surreal emotion than is generated by their onscreen romance.

Certainly, Ms. Kidman is picture perfect as Lady Ashley, a highbrow, aristocratic English woman whose idea of roughing it would be the functional equivalent of staying in a Holiday Inn Express. Furthermore, while Mr. Jackman is no Rhett Butler (Clark Gable), he still is quite beguiling as an emotionally scarred Aussie loner whose heart belongs first and foremost to the Outback and its beleaguered indigent residents.

But as Kidman and Jackman slowly swirl around one another, their anger and insults dissolving into lukewarm lust in the dust, it is remarkably curious that these two celebrated performers couldn’t emulate the passion for each other that Luhrmann’s camera ravishes on his native land. However, it is appropriate to stop here and emphatically state that none of this matters, as the powerful soul of this film is found in the incredible performance of young Mr. Walters as Nullah.

Since he was the mixed-blood son of Kidman’s late husband’s housekeeper, referred to by white Australians as “creamies,” the Australian Government had a policy where these children were forcibly taken from their mothers and put in governmental institutions where they were trained to be servants for the white ruling class. (As an aside, go see “Rabbit Proof Fence” (2002), which explores this subject in heartbreaking detail.) Luhrmann spares no punches in examining the emotional ramifications of this horrific policy, and there are some overpowering moments as Kidman and Jackman draw closer to Nullah, and as a result to each other.

Mention should also be made of the performance of the underrated character actor, David Wenham, who plays the amoral, right-hand man of King Carney. Doing all of his employer’s dirty work, he eventually marries Carney’s daughter and slimes his way to power.

Wenham’s ruthlessness makes for a worthy foe, a character that is always central to the success of any period piece drama. He and Brown are complex, wonderful villains, and Wenham gives a performance worthy of his prior contributions as Faramir in the “Lord of the Rings Trilogy” (2001, 2002 & 2003), as well as his villainous portrayal in the under-appreciated “The Proposition” (2005).

While I would be remiss if I did not mention the unfortunate fact that “Australia” is marred by occasional sappy dialogue, it is important to note that such was also the case with such legendary films as “Gone With the Wind” (1939) and “Casablanca” (1942). I don’t mean to compare this film with those great movies, but it is relevant to note that all are movies where their sum exceeds the total of their individual weaknesses.

While some have criticized the length of “Australia” (165 minutes), I think such criticism can be dismissed out of hand. Many of those same people can go to a Colts Football Game and sit without complaint for over three hours when there is less than one hour of actual game time. Simply put, what difference does it make how long a film lasts if it is entertaining?

Luhrmann uses the theme from “The Wizard of Oz” (1939) throughout this movie, and just as Dorothy had to leave her three friends in Oz to return home, Nullah had to leave his also. He is a little boy of two worlds. To stay in the white world was to lose his identity, and to return to the Outback with his grandfather (King George) is to walk away forever from Kidman, his surrogate mother. This, in the end, is a choice that will leave many of you with a lump in your throat.