I can’t remember the last time I walked out of an Australian film sporting a smile. That’s not to say they’re bad; on the contrary, the industry is at the top of its game in terms of quality. It’s just that they have been all doom and gloom of late, and Beautiful Kate makes no effort to be an exception. Exploring a cocktail of dark and controversial themes, the film revolves around a dysfunctional family still trying to come to terms with a 20 year old tragedy. It’s certainly tough viewing, but Rachel Ward’s feature debut is a superbly executed and deeply affecting piece of Australian cinema that deserves to be seen.

Replacing the original American setting with a uniquely Australian one, Ward’s screen adaptation of Newton Thornburg’s novel follows writer Ned Kendall (Ben Mendelsohn) who, upon being asked by his younger sister Sally (Rachel Griffiths), returns to his outback home after twenty years to make peace with his dying father (Bryan Brown). As soon as he arrives, vivid memories of his troubled upbringing come flooding back, mostly regarding the close relationship he shared with his twin sister Kate (Sophie Lowe). Whilst Ned would like to blame his insensitive father as the catalyst for the tragic events that lead to Kate’s death, he is burdened with guilt from dark secret that has left him deeply scared since he was sixteen.

Like the title suggests, this is a beautiful film, which is quite an achievement considering the touchy subject matter (which to explicitly detail might be considered a spoiler).  That’s not to say the film doesn’t challenge its audience; Ward’s screenplay makes no reservations when tackling tough issues, delving deep into the grey areas of teen romance and family dynamics. Yet the beauty of the film lies in Ward’s ability to never isolate her audience in the process, carefully infusing genuine humility into otherwise ugly scenarios.

Making this possible is Ben Mendelsohn’s  unfaultable performance as Ned. He is easily one of Australia’s finest dramatic actors, who can credibly instill all manner of sentiment into every utterance; guilt, anger, anxiety, tenderness, sarcasm. It’s all there, seemingly effortless. Just as strong, albeit underused, is Rachel Griffiths as Ned’s sister Sally, whose  tender smile practically melts the screen. Then there’s  Bryan Brown, who in an uncharacteristically vulnerable role as Ned’s dying father, somehow milks empathy out of an otherwise stubborn and cold-hearted man.

Yet it’s newcomer Sophie Lowe as beautiful Kate who sits central to the film’s success. In a number of seamlessly intertwined flashbacks, Lowe seduces the camera with her radiant beauty and charming naivety, evolving her character in many unexpected ways. The first-person viewpoint during these sequences does well to make the proceeding events of the film feel less voyeuristic and more personal to the audience, as we become Ned’s eyes and ears.  As unsettling as it gets, solace can be found in Tex Perkin’s harmonious score and Andrew Commis intimate cinematography.

There isn’t many, but the film is not without its flaws. Whilst Maeve Dermody as Ned’s young, fish-out-of-water girlfriend is initially important as a plot device, bluntly asking  questions on behalf of the audience, she gets cast aside when the questions start to answer themselves.  Then there’s the borderline gratuitous amount of nudity and sex, which is almost ironic considering Ward handles the most controversial issues with such delicacy.  Underplayed, however, is the film’s twist ending, which doesn’t quite make an impact as much as it should, causing the tone of the film to remain fairly constant throughout.

But this is unashamedly an art house film, where the  slow-burning narrative and challenging themes make zero effort to draw in commercial crowds. Whilst it would be nice to see the Australian film industry lighten up and induce a few more smiles, it’s hard to complain when films like Beautiful Kate do serious so damn well.

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