Deeply involving and emotionally searing, The Daughter reps a confident and profoundly moving big-screen debut for established theatre director Simon Stone. Those familiar with Henrik Ibsen’s play, which Stone freely adapted for the Sydney stage in 2011, will find its themes of the haunted past detonating in the present and the gulfs in class and gender fully intact. Yet Stone’s radical retooling of the story details, characters and setting has yielded something urgent and new, and the low-key, naturalistic approach to his direction of a fine cast—a rare tonal quality in contempo Australian drama—ensures busy international fest play and the rapt attention of distribs seeking quality fare.
In an unnamed, present-day logging town that has seen better times, well-to-do, aloof to the point of arrogance mill owner Henry Neilson (Geoffrey Rush) announces to his employees the economy has forced him to close. Amongst their number is long-time laborer Oliver Finch (Ewen Leslie), a gregarious and devoted type who assures schoolteacher wife Charlotte (Miranda Otto) and teenaged daughter Hedvig (Odessa Young) everything will be OK. Oliver’s absent-minded father Walter (Sam Neill), who used to be partners with Henry and served jail time for an unspecified fiduciary breach, is unconcerned.
Meanwhile, in preparation for his marriage to much-younger former housekeeper Anna (Anna Torv), Henry has summoned his estranged son Christian (Paul Schneider) from America to serve as best man. Currently on the wagon and separated from his wife, Christian’s smoldering resentment towards his father gradually comes into focus as he reconnects with childhood chum Oliver and in the process learns that Miranda too used to be in his father’s household employ (Christian’s mother committed suicide around this time).
The inevitable revelation of a long-suppressed family secret, and Christian’s fundamentally profound misunderstanding of it, lead to a cataclysmic shift in family dynamics tempered by a faint ray of hope.
Stone has said that when he sat down to write the screenplay he had neither Ibsen’s text or his own theatrical adaption on his desk or in his mind. What he clearly did retain, however, is both his innate understanding of the playwright’s original aims and a keen sense of small-town class tensions. But, in an obvious nod to the melodramatic trappings Stone resolutely avoids, Walter wearily advises his son “everyone’s got a story like this, Oliver, it’s as old as the hills.”
An actor himself (Jindabyne, Balibo), Stone has drawn extraordinary work from his cast across the board. With special nods to the work of Leslie and Schneider, it is Young’s sexually precocious yet fundamentally well-raised Hedvig (the only character name retained from Ibsen), with her lightly-dyed purple hair, open smile and love of a duck crippled by a blast from Henry’s shotgun, who most impresses. That this is a feature film debut suggests new offers are now being entertained.
Technically the film is at once traditional and subversive, with Andrew Commis’ lush widescreen photography massaged by an audacious and successful editing strategy that finds Stone and cutter Veronika Jenet subtly time-shifting visuals and dialogue within the same scene and using brief absences of sound to speak louder than words and actions.
Domestically pic will sit out the late-year Hollywood award season, trailering to the contenders for maximum impact prior to bowing in the first quarter of 2016.
Originally published in Variety International