Nitram, devastating portrait of Martin Bryant

Nitram is not a film about the Port Arthur massacre itself but the troubled young man who perpetrated it, a story told with a quiet and mournful power.

Caleb Landry Jones in Nitram, directed by Justin Kurzel.

Nitram (MA15+)
In cinemas prior to streaming on Stan
★★★★

I’m sure that I shared with many a feeling of disquiet when it was announced that Justin Kurzel was making a film about Martin Bryant, the perpetrator of the 1996 Port Arthur massacre. Was this really a subject that needed to be explored in a feature film? Kurzel’s first feature, Snowtown (2011), was about another real-life Australian serial killer, and though well regarded by some, it tended to wallow in the most violent aspects of the story. Fortunately, in tackling his most controversial project, the director has found a new maturity and humanity.

Whereas British director Paul Greengrass depicted on screen the horror of the young victims as they faced mass killer Anders Breivik on an Norwegian island in 22 July (2018), Kurzel and his screenwriter, Shaun Grant, completely avoid any on-screen violence. This is not a film about the massacre but about the troubled young man who perpetrated it. Bryant isn’t even named; the film’s title is “Martin” spelt backwards, a nickname he was given at school and which he hated. Nor are Kurzel and Grant seeking sympathy for a vicious killer; but by telling his – apparently well-researched – story, they allow insights into the events, the details, that led to his evil rampage.

The film actually begins with the real Martin Bryant. A TV news interviewer in a Hobart hospital in 1979 questions a defiant kid who is in the burns unit after an accident involving illegal fireworks. The interviewer asks the boy if he thinks he’ll be playing with fireworks anymore; he gives an odd smile and replies, “yes”.

A quick cut takes us forward several years as the boy, now a young man played by American actor Caleb Landry Jones, still living with his mum (Judy Davis) and dad (Anthony LaPaglia), is letting off fireworks recklessly in his backyard and infuriating the neighbours. Dad, who is obsessed with acquiring his dream house with a sea view, is pretty tolerant of his obviously troubled son, who clearly has a multitude of problems, not least an addiction to prescription pills. His mother is less inclined to accept her son’s shortcomings – after all, she has to wash his clothes, cook his meals and tidy up after him. He has ambitions to be a surfer, but she tells him sternly: “I’m your mother, I love you, but surfing’s not for you.”

LaPaglia and, especially, Davis, are exceptional in these roles; Davis’s expressive face allows us to read so much more into the character than is to be found in the dialogue, and concerns about her son are heartbreakingly obvious.

With his straggly, unwashed hair and his awkward presence, Nitram has no friends. A girl he talks to on the beach wants nothing to do with him. Boys tease him.

To earn money, he decides to start a lawn-mowing business and, though it’s not at all successful, this is how he meets the woman who will change his life.

Helen (a great performance from Essie Davis) is a faded middle-aged recluse who, as heir to the TattsLotto fortune, is very rich. She has a houseful of dogs and cats and is a devotee of Gilbert and Sullivan. Nitram is only too happy to walk the dogs, learn songs like Tit Willow from The Mikado, and generally make himself useful. His reward is a second-hand car (though he has no driver’s licence) and eventually he moves into a spare room in Helen’s house.

As the film proceeds the warning signs appear. A tragedy that will change everything occurs, after which Nitram develops an interest in guns.

Two outstanding scenes in a film that is filled with them should be mentioned. In one, Mum tells Helen about the day she “lost” her son, only to discover that he was hiding from her, “laughing at my pain”. Davis is simply remarkable here. The other takes place in a very well-stocked gun shop. Nitram selects some automatic weapons and produces a bag full of cash. The shop owner asks him if he has a gun licence and when he says “no” he’s advised not to register the weapons. The gun shop owner isn’t in the least bit fazed about bending the rules when he’s getting cash in hand.

The film moves inexorably to an ending that is both totally chilling and understated. The technical credits are particularly fine. The production and costume design by Alice Babidge underlines the contrast between the two homes in which Nitram lives; Germain McMicking’s subtle, intimate cinematography concentrates on the faces of the characters and reads volumes into them. The director’s brother, Jed Kurzel, has written a subtle and affecting music score. And the quartet of great performances at the centre of this deeply sad and troubling drama bring the characters to life with a quiet, mournful power. Most of all Justin Kurzel directs with a subtle skill that pays off in the devastating final scene.

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Riders of Justice (Retfaerdighedens ryttere) (MA15+)
In cinemas
★★★★½

Earlier this year Another Round, a Danish film starring Mads Mikkelsen, won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film. I wasn’t terribly impressed with it at the time, and now that another Mikkelsen movie, Riders of Justice, has arrived, it’s clear that the wrong film won; this is in every way superior to Another Round.

To start with, writer-director Anders Thomas Jensen has constructed an unusually skilful screenplay in which the viewer is kept constantly off-guard. On the principle of probability and predictability, any event in our lives has a chain of consequences. So when, in Tallinn, Estonia, a little girl asks her dad for a blue bicycle for Christmas, the father – assured by the rather shady shopkeeper that he can provide one – thinks little of it. The soundtrack The Little Drummer Girl plays cheerfully. But a few days later, in a provincial Danish town, the precious blue bike belonging to Mathilde (Andrea Heick Gadeberg) is stolen. It’s a bad day for teenage Mathilde and her mother, Emma (Anne Birgitte Lind); they’ve just heard from their husband and father, Markus (Mikkelsen), a professional soldier fighting in Afghanistan, that his tour of duty has been extended. To compensate for these two pieces of bad news, Emma suggests a mother-daughter day in the city for some quality time together. The train is crowded, and a stranger gives up his seat to Emma; the train crashes, and Emma is one of the victims.

The good Samaritan who gave up his seat was Otto (Nikolaj Lie Kaas), who, with his business partner Lennart (Lars Brygmann), had spent the early part of the morning fruitlessly trying to sell a company an algorithm based on probability and predictability.

He becomes convinced that the crash was no accident; he discovers that the victims included a lawyer and his client, a former member of Riders of Justice, a criminal bikie gang, who was about to testify against his former associates. Otto tracks down Markus, who has been flown home from the war zone, and easily convinces the bereaved man that there’s more to the case than meets the eye and that something needs to be done about it.

Otto, Lennart, Markus and tech nerd Emmenthaler (Nicolas Bro, excellent) embark on a revenge spree, determined to punish members of the Riders of Justice. But the film, as it proceeds briskly and vigorously, continually veers off into unexpected directions.

Suffused with character-driven comedy, and not avoiding elements of violence, this is an outstanding film. The ensemble cast is flawless and the witty and deliciously complex screenplay is among the best we’ve seen this year.