Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975) A Beguiling & Intriguing work that put Australian Movies on the Map (Review)

Peter Weir is a director with an eclectic career. From Witness to Dead Poets Society to The Truman Show to Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, Weir’s subject matter and indeed style have rarely fit into easily identifiable boxes. His first international success, 1975’s Picnic at Hanging Rock, is not only a major milestone in his career but also in the development and international acceptance of Australian cinema. As composer George Smeaton mentions in one of the extras, ask your average film consumer to name five Australian films, and Picnic at Hanging Rock, adapted from the novel by Joan Lindsay, will likely be one of them.

Looking at Picnic at Hanging Rock in Second Sight Films’ Limited Edition 4K UHD/Blu-Ray release, alongside Standard Editions in 4K UHD and Blu-Ray, it is understandable why this film has become iconic. From its opening slow pans across the titular rocky outcrop, an ethereal, dreamlike quality embraces the audience, drawing us irresistibly into the mysterious world of the film. Yet the mystery is told to us from the start, as supertext declares that on 14th February 1900, students and a teacher from Appleyard College, a girls’ school in Victoria, Australia, vanished, never to be seen again. Weir’s mesmerising direction keeps the viewer riveted on the events as they unfold, in this superb restoration where the clean lines of faces in the early scenes give way to softer focus as the film progresses and becomes more ephemeral.

In these early scenes, we move fluidly between the different characters, including the imperious headmistress Mrs Appleyard (Rachel Roberts), the tremulous Mademoiselle de Poitiers (Helen Morse), free-spirited Miranda St Clare (Anne-Louise Lambert), troubled Sara Waybourne (Margaret Nelson), sympathetic Minnie (Jack Weaver), as well as those outside the school, especially wide-eyed innocent Dominic Guard (Michael Fitzhubert) and the somewhat more cynical Albert Crundall (John Jarratt, who may be familiar to fans of Australian horror thanks to his terrifying turn in Wolf Creek). The performances are largely understated, with much communicated through eyes and expressions. All these figures are gorgeously shot by Russell Boyd, who also lenses the Australian outback in a way that makes it both beautiful and sinister.

Contrast and indeed paradox run throughout the film, where civilisation meets wilderness and order meets chaos. The extremely prim and ‘proper’ Victorian appearances and sensibilities juxtapose sharply with the untamed landscape, with the girls’ clothing including hats and gloves despite the sun beating down so hard you can practically feel the heat. Notably, when shoes and stockings are removed it highlights the film’s movement into a different register. The school serves as a microcosm of repression, the girls are only allowed to remove their gloves in certain locations, instructed how to sit and threatened with being sent to bed, the acceptability of certain poetry that is apparently ‘taught’ through repetition. Gender and class repression is apparent, as is the inherent repression of colonialism. But much as the irresistible colonial force of the British Empire meets the immovable object of Hanging Rock, resistance stirs against repression but always beneath the surface, much like the forbidden desires of certain characters. The unexplained disappearance itself can be read as a response to repression: it is inexplicable as the society in which it takes place has no vocabulary with which to voice certain feelings.

The inability to speak is demonstrated by frequently stilted dialogue, part of what makes the film a great demonstration of “show, don’t tell”. Stylistic flourishes disrupt but do not divert the narrative, including suffusive editing that fades as much as its cuts, key points of slow motion and differing frame rates that make the events otherworldly, and voiceover that adds ambiguity rather than clarification. The striking yet dreamlike juxtapositions and the danger of these sheltered girls going into the wilderness locate the film in the folk horror subgenre, where land is always older and more knowledgeable than humans. The horror atmosphere is added to by an ominous soundtrack and, cliched though it is, the eponymous rock that becomes a character in itself. As the film progresses, the outcrops and crags become more like faces, speaking of a mystery that only the Earth can know.

Speaking of mystery and colonialism, one aspect of the film that marks it as a product of its time is the almost complete absence of First Nations Australians. The role of indigenous Australians in the colonial period is severely underrepresented, and to modern eyes, this can be a glaring omission. But then again, the film is largely about the unseen, the denied and the unrepresented, so this aspect adds a further dimension to this rich and compelling film.

One of the ongoing aspects of the Hanging Rock mythology is whether or not it is based on a true story. This four-disc re-release, which includes both the original theatrical cut of the film and the Director’s Cut released in 1998, adds to that mythology with its extras. These include a featurette called ‘Recollection: Hanging Rock 1900’, which dates from the time of the movie’s original release. Within this film, Peter Weir refers to the disappearance at Hanging Rock alongside the mysteries of the Marie Celeste and Jack the Ripper. Hanging Rock itself is discussed as a cultural icon, looming over the local community and occupying a significant place in the communal psyche. An archive interview with Joan Lindsay, outtakes and the original long trailer provide further background into the film. Lindsay’s interview draws attention to her interest in people, an interest that led to her becoming a writer, as well as her history of publications.

There are also new interviews with actor Karen Robson and DOP Russell Boyd, as well as camera operator John Searle. Robson recounts that she ‘fell into’ the film since another member of the crew recommended her to audition specifically for the role of Irma, as well as her interest in the Victorian period when the story is set. Her discussion of the bonds formed between the actors shows warmth and affection from the production. Boyd’s interview focuses on ‘Finding the Light’, as well as recounting his experience prior to Picnic at Hanging Rock. His description of softening the image by placing fabric such as netting over the camera lens gives interesting insights into how the look of the film was created. Seale’s interview builds on this by focusing on the boundaries that the crew challenged and broke through, drawing attention to the types of cameras used and Weir’s innovative approaches to camera angles.

The director’s cut of the film features a commentary from film academics Alexandra Heller-Nicholas and Josh Nelson, which is lively and engaging as well as informative and illuminating. Their discussions on different types of truths, the long history of colonial violence in Australia against First Nations people as well as violence around Hanging Rock itself, the different flows of time and more uncover multiple layers of meaning for further consideration.

Most prominent among the extra features is 2004’s ‘A Dream Within a Dream: The Making of “Picnic at Hanging Rock”’. This comprehensive documentary features various talking heads, including Weir as well as screenwriter Cliff Green, producers Jim and Hal McElroy, executive producer Patricia Lovell, cinematographer Russell Boyd, composer George Smeaton, and actors Helen Morse, Anne-Louise Lambert, Christine Schuler and John Jarratt. Their reminiscences of the production thirty years previously include their impressions of the novel, the processes of casting and the experience of filming. Sometimes these discussions are melancholic, sometimes charming. Descriptions of Hanging Rock as well as Martindale Hall refer to eerie and haunting atmospheres and the pagan-esque feeling that the filmmakers found in pan flute music from Gheorghe Zamfir. There are some nicely frank reflections that balance out the rather standard aggrandising, and further insights into Boyd’s techniques, such as taking full advantage of natural light in the scenes shot at the rock. Pleasingly, there is no dictation about what the film ‘means’, as various themes are identified that can be accepted or disregarded. A major example of this is the figure of Miranda, who is described as the most ‘lightly written’ character but has become iconic, perhaps exactly because there is so little of her in the film and therefore plenty for viewers to read into. It is pleasant to have the same people throughout this two-hour documentary, as they provide a variety of favourite moments and memories, as well as their differing thoughts on the mystery of the ending as well as Weir’s alternative cut of the film, as some of those involved in the film disapprove of Weir’s tinkering.

The greatest highlight of this release, however, is a video essay by film critic Thomas Caldwell. His analysis emphasises the fictionality of the tale as well as the continued legacy of the film and the importance of Hanging Rock, which has hosted screenings of the film as well as weddings and music concerts. Caldwell places the film within the Australian new wave of cinema and traces its legacy throughout Weir’s career, such as the iconicity of Miranda that is repeated with the central figure of The Truman Show. He also discusses the film’s exploration of the relationship between Australia and its colonial past. His analysis is engaging and intriguing, drawing parallels between the experience of the film and that of a dream, and the anachronistic use of the European pan pipe music that contributes to the erasure of First Nations Australians. He also identifies the influence of Weir’s film on Sofia Coppola’s filmmaking, especially The Virgin Suicides, as well as David Lynch, whose work carries a similar dreamlike and ephemeral quality to Picnic at Hanging Rock. Caldwell’s various interpretations, as well as others, point to the ongoing conversation around Picnic at Hanging Rock, a beguiling and intriguing work that continues to spark discussion in its various forms.

Vincent’s Archive – Picnic at Hanging Rock