by James Mottram
Last month, those attending the opening of the International Film Festival Rotterdam were fortunate to meet a little gem of a movie, all the way from New Zealand. Set in Christchurch, around the late Seventies post-punk scene, Head South is a charming coming-of-age film that draws heavily from the youthful experiences of its writer-director Jonathan Ogilvie (The Tender Hook, Lone Wolf). The film follows Angus (Ed Oxenbould), a school kid who harbours desires to be in a band.
“I’ll clarify,” Ogilvie interjects, when FilmInk meets him in the festival centre the day after the premiere. “I didn’t pose naked to borrow a bass guitar. But I did pose naked to borrow a Super 8 camera!” It’s a reference to the film, where Angus meets an older couple from England – then the epicentre of the post-punk scene – and is cajoled into modelling without his clothes to gain access to the coveted instrument.
Likewise, Ogilvie drew from his family life, especially the film’s more supernatural elements, for scenes between Angus and his father Gordon (Marton Csokas). “My father going up to scare away the ghosts in my great aunt’s attic occurred.” As did his father going to a specific café after the anniversary of Ogilvie’s grandmother’s death and consuming a cream bun. “So that,” he puts it, “she could make some after-life contact.”
When Ogilvie was growing up, he was part of a band called YFC – ‘Youth for Christ’. “We got ourselves in a little trouble on that title. So, it got dropped down to YFC and we had two basses and drums. So, no guitar.” Remarkably, the band is still going strong. “We’ve never really broken up. I’m in Sydney. The drummer’s in Christchurch. The other bass player’s in Norway and the producer’s in Japan.”
Former Christchurch resident Csokas found an immediate personal attraction to the story. “Personally, I went to university there,” says the actor. “And I worked there in the theatre. And I was born in the South Island, further south. So, all those things have something to do with it.” Adds his director, with a chuckle, “He even remembered my band!”
Then there was the terrible disaster in November 1979, when an Air New Zealand flight flew into Mount Erebus in Antarctica, killing all 257 souls on board – a tragedy that plays out in the film’s backdrop. “It affected everybody in the country,” says Csokas. “I think my mother bought a ticket for my grandfather and her to go on that flight. And something happened at the last minute. So, they didn’t go. Inevitably, you knew somebody who knew someone that had died. Most people had some connection with it.”
As for the Australian-born Oxenbould, he felt the script “just really stuck out from a regular boring coming-of-age story,” especially with the film’s darker elements that bubble away under the surface. “I also liked the idea that it was solely seen through Angus’ eyes. I’m in every single scene in the film, which I’ve never done before. You have to be very on, which I wasn’t quite used to. So, I knew it’d be a learning experience.”
Oxenbould, who started out playing sax and piano and now plays drums, had to learn the bass for the role, though his musical acumen meant that it held no fears. “I started learning and then the film got pushed back. I ended up having to learn bass for a longer time. I remember Jonathan saying, ‘Don’t learn it too well’ because it’s not post-punk if you’re playing cleanly. But I have kept playing since and it’s been good. It was nice to get up on stage and get an opportunity that I wouldn’t normally have.”
When Angus meets smart chemist-shop clerk Kirsten (Stella Bennett aka Benee) and forms a band called The Daleks, named after the alien robot nemesis in popular British sci-fi Doctor Who, they take to the stage in a real rites-of-passage moment. The songs heard are all written by Ogilvie – including ‘Boxed In’. “That was actually probably the first song I ever wrote on a bass guitar,” says the director. “What can I do on a bass guitar?”
Not wishing to make the bass-playing newbie Angus sound like a musical genius, Ogilvie ensured the songs sounded deliberately raw and rough-round-the-edges. “I always had a problem with that, when you have people who are too good, so you have to find that level,” he continues. “It was the same thing when they pick up the microphone – you got a lyric that someone’s going to be able to copy in the crowd without too much difficulty.”
With the original score provided by Shayne Carter of the late-’80s/early-’90s New Zealand post-punk band Straitjacket Fits, Ogilvie has a connection there too – given he made music videos for Flying Nun, the influential label that was the home to Carter’s band. “I came out at the end knowing a whole lot about [the post-punk scene],” adds Oxenbould. “I got a great book on Flying Nun. I got a Flying Nun tote bag. I’m a little more in-the-know now!”
One of the delights of Head South is just how analogue it is. Set in a world before cell phones and the internet, Angus is sent a Public Image Ltd record through the post from England – mailed by his brother – only to find it turns up warped. Again, all this comes from Ogilvie’s experiences. “We read the New Musical Express [NME],” recalls Ogilvie. “That took three months to get to New Zealand. Surface mail. You get that and you’d read it, and it was already three months late… it didn’t matter. But what it did is give you thinking time. Whereas nowadays – digital world, what’s happening in New York? Bang. What’s happening in Sydney? Bang. What’s happening in London? Bang. Everything’s immediate.”
Above all, Head South emerges as a poignant father-son story between Angus and Gordon, especially with Angus’ mother out of the picture. “I mean, they love each other,” says Csokas. “You’ve got a father’s perspective. He loves his son.” Adds Oxenbould: “It’s also an interesting time for Angus as well. At that age – wanting to be your own kind of adult but knowing that you’re not an adult yet.” It’s what makes Head South such an engaging tale about youth, adulthood, and musical dreams.
Head South is in cinemas 3 April 2025
