Penguin Bloom

January 19, 2021

In Australian, Review, Theatrical, This Week by Dov KornitsLeave a Comment

…a weepy that earns its reactions…
Cain Noble-Davies
Year: 2020
Rating: PG
Director: Glendyn Ivin
Cast:

Naomi Watts, Andrew Lincoln, Jacki Weaver, Rachel House, Gia Carides, Leeanna Walsman, Lisa Hensley, Griffin Murray-Johnston

Distributor: Roadshow
Released: January 21, 2021
Running Time: 95 minutes
Worth: $15.00

FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth

…a weepy that earns its reactions…

Based on the best-selling book of the same name by Cameron Bloom and Bradley Trevor Greive, the real-life Bloom family are as connected to the making of this film as the actors portraying them on-screen. To the point where, when we see shots of the Bloom family home, we’re actually seeing it. And with Sam Bloom herself as executive producer (played in-film by Naomi Watts), it already wins points for having a tangible connection to the reality behind the story. And it’s a connection that forges tear-jerking moments throughout.

After taking a fall during a family holiday and ending up paralysed, the depiction we get of Sam is one of heavy bleakness. It was an unfortunate accident, one that could’ve happened to anyone who found themselves in that physical location in Thailand… but because it happened to her specifically, she (and the bulk of her family) can’t help but think that they were responsible for it.

Writers Harry Cripps and Shaun Grant scored wins recently with The Dry and True History Of The Kelly Gang respectively, and they bring that same sense of earned pathos to this story. Grant even gets to tap into notions of children experiencing the darkness of the adult psyche like he did with Jasper Jones, with Sam’s eldest son Noah (Griffin Murray-Johnston) coming a close second to Watts for raw emotional power, both in presence and in speech.

But feeling bad for the disabled would’ve only made this emotionally manipulative… Even with the recurring viewpoint of Noah, this is ultimately Sam’s story first and foremost. It’s her struggle, her reactions to the well-meaning-but-condescending attitudes of those around her, and her connection with the titular magpie that allows her character, her performance, and her real-life inspiration to take flight.

While the depiction of disability here isn’t 100% (there’s a shot near the end that gets dangerously close to the line between figurative and exploitative), the filmmakers show enough respect and understanding to make the highs and lows register with equal vibrancy, without making Sam Bloom herself into a martyr in the process. Its compassionate writing and performances, combined with Marcelo Zarvos’ beautiful soundtrack and Sam Chiplin’s drop-dead-gorgeous cinematography, make for a weepy that earns its reactions, rather than strong-arm them out of the audience. It’s a disabled story that is honest, both for the good and for the bad, and should be welcome viewing for those tired of the ‘tragedy porn’ standard.

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