Worth: $12.00
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Cast:
Peter Flaherty, Krista Vendy, Jack Campbell, Roger Ward, Sarah Timm
Intro:
... brutal ...
In this drama from filmmaker John Fraser – marking his feature-length debut – we follow a lonely photographer down the dark alleys of Melbourne and through the glitzy world of the media. That photographer is Eugene (Peter Flaherty); a nondescript man who you could quickly lose in a crowd. Something which seems to work in his favour as Eugene likes to take pictures of the social decay he sees daily while looking after his invalid father (Roger Ward).
Drug taking, crime and prostitution all feature heavily in his work. It’s a turn off to the magazines he sends them to, but Eugene believes everything he shoots is in the public interest. When he witnesses 15-year-old sex worker, Josephine (Sarah Timm), being assaulted by her pimp, the mild-mannered photographer decides to intervene. And in doing so, puts both of their lives in danger.
Like a certain Todd Phillips’ comic book joint that came out recently, Choir Girl feels somewhat indebted to Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver. As Travis Bickle became obsessed with the adolescent Iris, so too does Eugene with Josephine. It’s an uneasy relationship to watch develop. Sure, Eugene wants to help her out of her current situation, but is he doing it because he can get more photos out of her? The waters are muddied by the introduction of Josephine’s pimp, Daddy (Jack Campbell) and Eugene’s magazine editor, Polly (Krista Vendy). To toss out a cliché, both characters are fundamentally different sides of the same coin; encouraging Eugene and Josephine to plunge further into the depths than they had been initially.
Shot in beautiful black and white, this is by no means a jovial film, and you’ll taste every bit of grit it force-feeds you in the first act, but once Daddy offers Eugene the opportunity to buy Josephine off him it all becomes tough to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Eugene effectively becomes the young girl’s pimp, protecting her from clients as she continues the trade that he’s been trying to save her from. Meanwhile, while Polly appears to be concerned for everyone’s welfare, it’s hard not to see the dollar signs in her eyes. And that’s where Choir Girl starts its bumpy road towards denouement, despite some excellent performances. Flaherty, in particular, does a lot of heavy lifting.
Films like Nil By Mouth or Romper Stomper show that tales of redemption don’t need to be as clean-cut as we’d like, or even have a happy ending. Choir Girl makes good on that philosophy and then some. This is a brutal film to watch, and Fraser has no intentions of making you comfortable throughout its duration. There will undoubtedly be some who find all its nihilism more numbing than shocking. Like exploitation, Choir Girl piles on the tragedy until you’re almost drowning in it and a highly aggressive sexual assault in the final act will undoubtedly put a nail in the coffin for many.
There’s no doubt about it, Choir Girl pulls no punches, and its arms must be heavy from holding up a mirror to modern society for so long, but in doing so, it does itself the disservice of potentially alienating the audience.
