THERE’S more to director Stephen Johnson’s NT film than merely good guys v bad guys.
The screenplay by Chris Anastassiades is more than merely an actioner, a tale of vengeance or a thriller.
It delivers a message that, in the midst of ongoing tensions between indigenous Australians and the rest of us, both sides need to recognise and do something to make things much better.
In the 1930s, the Commonwealth governed the territories directly. Beyond the European settlements in the NT, day-to-day governing involved police presence most of all and indigenous lives had little value. Most of the non-indigenous characters in “High Ground” are police. They’re doing their best but Aboriginal welfare is not high on their priorities list.
High Ground review – Simon Baker narrowly escapes white saviour tropes in colonial Australia Luke Buckmaster
“When you’ve got the high ground you control everything,” Travis (Simon Baker) tells Gutjuk (Jacob Junior Nayinggul) during a key moment in director Stephen Johnson’s meat pie western, shot on location in Kakadu national park and Arnhem Land and set in the early 20th century. This is what we call a “title drop”, an oddly satisfying moment given it simply consists of a person inside the narrative universe pronouncing the title of the film.
It isn’t one of those eye-rolling title drops, like when grizzly old Liam Neeson grumbled “she’s been taken” in Taken, or when a man unhelpfully told Casey Affleck “I pray for her, because she’s gone baby gone” in . yes . Gone Baby Gone. Johnson’s film – written by Chris Anastassiades and produced by Witiyana Marika, who was one of the founding members of Yothu Yindi and appears in a support
Time Out says
A thrilling Australian Frontier War drama tackles the crimes of the white invaders
‘I thought the war was over.’ This telling line hangs heavy at the heart of new Australian thriller
High Ground. It’s delivered with wry exasperation by First Nations man Gutjuk, played by astoundingly accomplished newcomer Jacob Junior Nayinggu, to
The Mentalist star Simon Baker’s former cop Travis. The year is 1931, and the line is ostensibly about Travis’s service as a sniper in the Great War. Of course World War II would erupt by the end of the decade, but more importantly, it’s a dig about the ongoing Frontier Wars and the white man’s attempt to eradicate the Indigenous population of Australia under the false claim of terra nullius. This razor-sharp Western thrums with the echoes of that great injustice reverberating until today. Will the war ever be over?