It’s not a big surprisethat a film likeReflectionsin the Dust
(Luke Sullivan,2018) might court controversy.In an era
of monolithicmega-blockbusters,a micro-budgetslice of
arthouseAustralianademandssome kind of hook to pierce
the bubbleof cinematiccomplacency.So why not promise
scandal?Suggesta whiff of somethingillicit, something
beyondthe realmsof polite society?
Anyway,it workedon me. When an email from distribu-
tor The BacklotFilms arrivedin my inbox offeringsome-
thing ‘too extreme’^1 for audiences,how could an aficionado
of fringe cinemadeny the call? The full quote– whichhas
been reproduced in various synopses of the film online –
is as follows:The Australiangovernmentdeemedthe film was too ex-
tremefor audiencesand stronglysuggestedit not be com-
pletedduringproduction,howeverdirectorLuke Sullivan
pushedon with the film, assertingthat such an extreme
story needsto be told in an era where‘we are losinggrand-
mothers,mothers,sistersand friends to senseless acts of
violence perpetrated by men’.^2I couldn’tdeny the allure.I quicklyrequesteda screener,
won over by the promiseof not just extremecinema,but
somethingpurposeful,political.Confronting.And, while
I can’t speakto the veracityof the synopsis’sassertionof
behind-the-scenescontroversy– the film remainsproudly
in place on the ScreenAustraliawebsite,^3 a fact that seems
to controvertsuch claims,but I’ll avoid dabblingin back-
yard investigativejournalism– there’sno denyingthat
Reflectionsin the Dustis a distinctivecinematicartefact.
Sullivan’ssecondfeaturefilm – following2016’sYou’re
Not ThinkingStraight– is a misshapenthing: crude and
compelling, forceful and frustrating. If we disregard thecontextofferedby the distributor’ssynopsis,we’re left
with a spare portraitof a toxicallyco-dependentrelation-
ship betweenan unnamedfather(RobinRoyceQueree,
credited as ‘The Clown’for the greasepaintmake-upper-
petuallysmearedon the character’sface) and his daughter,
‘Freckles’(SarahHoubolt).With a slenderrunningtime of
seventy-fiveminutes,narrativecoherenceis avoidedin fa-
vour of direct,evocativedialogue.The father and daughter
interact– with each other, and with occasionaloutsiders
(Aldo Fedato,Sage Godrei)– in the waterloggedwilderness
of the Australianoutback.They reminisceabout days past
and jostle for superiorityin their relationship, with the loom-
ing threat of violenceever present.
Rarelydoes the camerastray far from the actors’faces.
Director of photography Ryan Barry-Cotter shoots almostexclusivelyin close-ups(with the occasionalmid shot), cre -
ating an intenseintimacywith the characters.While we’re
in the wilderness,Sullivanand Barry-Cotteropt for stark
black-and-whitecinematography;these scenesare often
interspersedwith vibrantlycolourfultalking-headsshots,
as Quereeand Houboltaddressthe camera against bright
backdrops(his, red; hers, blue).
In any case,Reflectionsin the Dustwasn’tquite the film
I’d expectedfrom its attention-grabbingpublicitymaterial.
While I’ll grant that its relentlessintensitymakesit a some-
what confrontingexperience,the ‘extreme’descriptor
strikesme as, well, a touch extreme.It’s certainlyhard to
imagineScreenAustraliabureaucratspullingout their hair in
reactionto a film that could be describedas mid-twentieth-
centuryEuropeanarthouse^4 meetsfilm-studentexperimen-
tation (only with entirelymore Australianaccentsthan you’d
expectfrom either).The film is undeniablymemorable– it’s
more interestingthan many of the swiftlyforgottenexem-
plars of middlebrowAustraliancinemapassingthemselves
off as high art, certainly,if lackingin a certainpunch.But
I was expectingsomethingpurposeful– andReflections
in the Dust, as it turns out, primarilysuffersfrom a lack of
clear purposedespite its confidently worded synopses.Proximity
The close-upsthat dominateReflectionsin the Dust’s cine-
matographyaren’t arbitrary.They’resimpaticowith Sullivan’s
desireto challengethe viewer,somethinghe’s been explicit
about in interviews;speakingtoFilmInklast year, for instance,
he said that his ‘aim as a directorhas alwaysbeen to push
audiencesto the limit and get under their skin’.^5
This proximityto the charactersis largelyabsentof
context, however, which is what pushedmeto the limitwatchingthe film. Other than the father–daughterrelation-
ship, very little is explainedor impliedto the audiencere -
gardingthe emotional,social and even geographicrealities
facingFrecklesand her father.Wheredoes the film take
place?How long have these two been out here – wherever
‘here’ is – away from civilisation?Who are the peoplethat
seem to exist on the marginsof the centralduo’s camp site,
intermittentlyinteractingwith them?What is the purpose of
the colouredconfessionalinterludes?
Someof these questionsare answered– anddutifully
regurgitatedin most reviewsI’ve read – in the film’s pub-
licity material:‘An unspokenevent has causedciviliza-
tion to crumble,leavingthe survivorsto clusterin the
wilderness.’^6 I’ve watchedthe film twice and, while I found
the setting haunting, honestly, I wouldn’t have picked it asREFLECTIONSINTHEDUSTWASN’TQUITETHEFILMI’DEXPECTED
FROMITSATTENTION-GRABBINGPUBLICITYMATERIAL... IT’S
CERTAINLYHARDTOIMAGINESCREENAUSTRALIABUREAUCRATS
PULLINGOUTTHEIRHAIRINREACTIONTOA FILMTHATCOULD
BEDESCRIBEDASMID-TWENTIETH-CENTURYEUROPEAN
ARTHOUSE MEETS FILM-STUDENT EXPERIMENTATION.30 • Metro Magazine 201 | © ATOM