The Rooster (2023)
The Rooster isn’t your typical whodunit. Sure, there’s a dead body, a small-town cop named Dan (Phoenix Raei) grappling with grief, and a mysterious hermit, played by the ever-magnetic Hugo Weaving, who might hold the key. But writer-director Mark Leonard Winter transcends genre, crafting a poignant exploration of masculinity, loss, and the healing power of unlikely connections.
The Australian bush becomes a character itself. Lush greenery, seemingly chaotic growth, and isolation mirror the turmoil within Dan. The location heightens the emotional impact, reminding us of both the beauty and harshness of life.
The film rests heavily on the shoulders of its two central performances. Raei delivers a nuanced portrayal of a man unravelling. His vulnerability is palpable, his every twitch and furrowed brow conveying a depth of unspoken pain. Weaving, on the other hand, is electric. He disappears into the role of the gruff, unpredictable recluse, making you laugh one minute and squirm with unease the next. Their dynamic is a slow burn, a wary dance that eventually blossoms into grudging respect, then, something more profound.
Winter’s script is a masterclass in minimalism. Dialogue is sparse, yet it crackles with tension and unspoken emotions. Think of early Clint Eastwood westerns, where a furrowed brow speaks volumes. The silences are pregnant with meaning, forcing us to confront the characters’ inner demons alongside them.
A score that is sinister, rhythmic, and occasionally cacophonous is the perfect accompaniment to the multi-layered emotional journey that is being depicted on screen. Both the present and the past are expertly blended together, thanks to the flawless editing. The powerful emotional beats are able to ring true thanks to the slow and measured tempo.
The Rooster isn’t without its minor shortcomings. There are a few plot points that feel slightly underdeveloped, leaving me wanting a touch more resolution. However, these errors are forgivable in the scheme of things as a whole.
The Rooster is the kind of movie that stays with you long after the final scene ends. It’s a meditation on grief, the complexities of male bonding, and the possibility of redemption in the most unexpected places. This isn’t a film for those seeking a popcorn-munching thrill ride. But for those who appreciate slow-burning character studies with knockout performances and stunning visuals, The Rooster is a must-see. It’s a powerful, uncompromising piece of Australian filmmaking that deserves a place among the year’s best. So, buckle up for a ride that’s as raw as the isolated Australian bush itself, and prepare to have your heart unravelled and stitched back together, stronger than before.
(In cinemas — check your local movie guide for show times.)