Drown

Synopsis: Len Smithy (Matt Levett) is a Surf Lifesaving champion in the local Sydney surf club just like his father, Mick (Anthony Phelan) before him. He’s also consumed by guilt and self-loathing for not having stopped a young woman (Maya Stange) from drowning herself.  When the younger, fitter Phil (Jack Matthews) arrives at the club, Len’s legendary status starts to crumble.  Then Len sees Phil kissing Tom (Sam Anderson) which sets him on a path of unexpectedly, confused feelings.  When Phil wins the title of champion at the annual surf competition, Len and his best mate, Meat (Harry Cook), take him out on an intoxicated bender through the seedy city.  Jealousy, homophobia and unrequited lust culminate in a tragic late night trip back to beach.

This low-budget would-be psychological thriller is based on the stage play by Stephen Davis who co-wrote the screenplay with director Dean Francis. Unlike a lot of stage adaptations, this story feels very at home on the screen and its setting in a Sydney surf lifesaving club lends itself to some effective under- and on-water camera work. Francis is also credited as editor and cinematographer and whilst his lensing of the swimmers racing against each other are quite exciting to watch, his voyeuristic camerawork on the taut and muscled bodies of the lifesavers, particularly Phil, distracts from the tension he’s otherwise trying to create.

Levett delivers a strong performance as a troubled young man whose only sense of himself is as the club’s champion. Likewise, Cook as Len’s obsequious mate makes a good fist of the role but, despite scenes that give them some motivational backstory they both feel underdeveloped and two-dimensional. The same is true of Phil’s character which has even less in the way of backstory. His relationship with Tom seems mostly superficial and the scene where B&B manager, Helen (Heather Mitchell) refuses them a booking on account of their sexuality struggles to rise above cliché.

The film’s use of voice-over is laboured and unnecessary and its visual metaphors – from Smithy in his job at the local tip carrying wire mesh in a way that makes it look like he’s in a cage to the film’s pre-occupation with discussions about penis size followed by shots of large sausages on a barbeque – are clumsy and heavy-handed. What works well though are the scenes where Stange as the enigmatic drowned woman appears to Len as a haunting memory of his culpability in her death. The idea that, through inaction, the champion lifesaver allows a life to be lost is the strongest element of the film and plays itself out right to the final frame.

In delivering the narrative, Francis opts for an out-of-order storytelling structure which is stylistically effective but doesn’t really take us anywhere other than what we expect from the outset. We can very quickly see what this film is about and it offers little in the way of surprises once we’ve got it sussed. For my money, if you’re looking for a film that explores homoerotic/homophobic themes around a drug and alcohol fuelled night on the town it’s hard to go past Ana Kokkinos’1997 Head On.

 

 

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