REVIEWED - LOOK BOTH WAYS: EARLY on in Sara Watt's earnest Australian ensemble piece, a stereotypically cynical journalist, one of four principal characters, speculates that young men may be committing suicide in greater numbers than the authorities acknowledge.
I know how they feel. After enduring 90 minutes of Watt's joyless riot of pessimism, even the cheeriest viewer may feel inclined to emulate the behaviour of a minor character and put themselves in the way of a speeding train.
To be fair, Watt, previously an animator of some note, has set herself the unavoidably grim task of revealing how death is always at one's elbow. Look Both Ways begins with Meryl (Justine Clarke), a painter and illustrator, witnessing that unfortunate incident with the train. Later on, Nick (William McInnes), a newspaper photographer, recently diagnosed with cancer, turns up to document the aftermath of the event. The two start a faltering affair.
The main body of the action is depressing enough. But the characters' neurotic internal monologues ratchet up the grimness index to truly fearsome levels. Meryl's fantasies of catastrophe - shark attacks, brutal muggings - are expressed through animations in the style of her own paintings. Nick's understandably glum ponderings - metastasising tumours, the remembered ingestion of various carcinogens - manifest themselves as stills and filmed vignettes. Combined with frequent outbreaks of bad mope-pop, these skillfully composed sequences create a purposefully oppressive atmosphere.
There are jokes in the film, but even if they weren't so surrounded by mementos mori few sane people would be inclined to laugh. Look Both Ways - eugh, that title! - is a sincerely intended, adroitly performed exercise in archetypal indie film-making. It may even deserve the hatful of Australian Film Awards it received. It is, however, not much fun to watch.
