The Snowtown Murders
The Oscars are tonight, which I think is nice, but I (probably) won’t be watching. Not because I’m some pretentious art-house snob. I mean, I am and though I have seen far more than my fair share of great art-house films, I also have plenty of love in my heart for joyful films like Pee Wee’s Big Adventure (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-eX7Ww0JpGY). It’s simply that the Oscars take forever, and I don’t have the patience. But, I did think that is a good time to tell people about one of my favorite films, The Snowtown Murders. (http://amzn.com/B007G5GQM8)
“Favorite” is a imprecise word to use when discussing this unrelenting, gritty, heartbreaking, honest film about the despicable torture/murders of 11 people that took place in Australia between 1992-1999…but it is an amazing film. I wouldn’t necessarily suggest it for a date-night, say, but when you’re feeling up to it, the film is worth your intellect. You might want to curl up in the fetal position afterwards, but it’s still an incredible film. What’s truly amazing about the film is its ability to portray the moral complexity of the situation. Oh, I know: a statement like that gives some of you carte blanche to dismiss me as a pathetic bleeding-heart liberal. You’d be wrong. I’ve seen the evil that men do. I vehemently support the death penalty. (I don’t believe it deters crime, I don’t think it solves anything but our need to punish people who hurt us, but I support it. I’m always overwhelmed and impressed by victims’ families who request that the killers not be given the death penalty, since I strongly doubt I’d be capable of that compassion and empathy.)
The Snowtown Murders captured me with its eye for detail, and authenticity, and its empathy for the people it portrays. There is a real sense that the film-maker understood his subjects, and wanted the world to understand what drove them. The Snowtown Murders, depicts the monstrous John Bunting, the ringleader of the murders, as someone who was simultaneously caring and loving to the children in his care, even as he brutally–horrendously–killed and tortured others. Which must have been a wee bit confusing. A wee bit. The Australian gov’t eventually made their case against Bunting with the help of his step-son James Vlassakis, an abused, vulnerable boy who fell under Bunting’s very dark star. The film is incredible in showing Bunting as the only nurturing person in Vlassakis’ miserable life. Vlassakis–abused, raped by his step-brother, neglected, addicted to drugs–realizes too late that the man he admires, the one man who cares and feeds and loves him and his brothers, will soon demand terrible things of him.
The saddest thing, of course, is that there were people, whose own lives were such, that they could find anything to admire in Bunting, given his glancing sadism. But Bunting knew his audience. Look at the henchmen he collected: Robert Wagner, for example, was illiterate, described as “brooding,” and had been sexually abused as a teenager, and was fond of Hitler. No real surprise that a man like that would look to take revenge on those more vulnerable. No surprise, just pathetic and disgusting.
I did say this isn’t a date-night film, right? It’s not. But it is a great choice for people who want to experience a smart, honest, unforgettable film. (And no: there’s also nothing wrong with putting your feet up, gathering with friends, and enjoying gawking at pretty people as they compete for a gold statute. Love your life!)