Film review: The Nightingale
Set in the harsh Tasmanian winter of 1825, Jennifer Kent’s The Nightingale is not a film for the faint-hearted. The story follows Clare (Aisling Franciosi), a 21-year-old Irish convict who seeks revenge on a group of English officers who commit a terrible act against her and her family. Clare spends her days performing for a group of British soldiers overseen by an officer named Hawkins (Sam Claflin) who holds her freedom, treating her like an object to inflict his emotional hardships on. It seems for many of the villains in the film, violence is an impulsive and emotional way of coping with a situation one may not be content with.
The Nightingale won’t rest easy with audiences, who may simplify the story by perceiving it as merely a rape-revenge film or refer to it as glorifying violence. Confronting scenes of rape, violence and murder occur within the first part and many people may find this a source of great discomfort. This reading however ignores a key aspect of the film’s message, which is that some groups in society hold the misinformed belief that they are entitled to abuse the power given to them. This power, as many of us may be aware, lies too often with majority. Kent explores this aspect in The Nightingale, using the harsh landscape of colonial Australia to paint a bleak picture; society seems to value only the opinions of a select few, the English man. For main protagonists Clare, a young Irish woman, and Billy (Baykali Ganambarr), a young Aboriginal man, they share a sense of powerlessness and helplessness belonging to the minority, being discriminated against based purely on genetics. Applying this to a modern context, the cruelty endured by these two characters are, what I’d like to believe, dramatised for screen. However, it could be agreed upon that for anyone who has ever been a part of a minority it’s challenging to confront those who abuse their positions of power.
In one scene of the film, Clare is stopped by an Englishman who tells her, ‘You can’t go there on your own’ implying that travelling alone as a woman leaves her vulnerable to attack or that she needs to be accompanied by men in order to travel. The perception of the female as weak, vulnerable and something to be protected seems to carry through even in today’s modern context, sometimes in the most subtle ways. For many women, who are spoken to in this manner, this often leads to an unwillingness to speak up or stand up for oneself; it’s tiring and often feels like you’re hitting a brick wall. As a woman, it’s difficult to have to justify your actions when, more often than not, it’s grouped with the excuse that you’re being too emotional or that you’re not thinking straight. In The Nightingale, Clare’s perception of the world around her is tainted by grief which both motivates her quest for revenge and scars her perceptions of people and her ability to trust others. Indeed, grief clouds one’s judgment but grief does not stem from the fact that she is a woman.
Often placed in situations where she is the only female in a room full of men, Clare is beckoned and called upon to perform her songs for the pleasure of male soldiers who objectify her and view her too often from an overtly sexualised perspective. In scenes like this, Kent highlights that for many women, even without being physically violated, there is a sense of discomfort felt from being ogled upon by a group of men. I find this scenario more often than not, more commonplace when compared to the film’s most confronting scene, one involving gang rape and infanticide.
Kent places this key scene in Clare’s home, a place that was supposed to be a safe and intimate refuge from the world and subverts it by confronting viewers with such a horrific attack in what was once a safe space. When home becomes a place where those in power can abuse, there is no such thing as a safe space.
In one of the film’s most critical scenes, Kent cleverly shifts between observational shots of Clare’s situation and shots filmed from her point of view. This scene which rarely shows any form of visual penetration or genitalia on screen, still proves to be powerful, its impact enhanced through the use of sound and closeups of facial expressions. Sound is used in The Nightingale to highlight the tension felt in such a confronting scene, its absence allowing audiences time to process the uneasiness felt as they watch what unfolds onscreen whilst its presence, an example being the sound of a baby screaming, is overwhelming both aspects used to highlight the powerlessness Clare feels.
Set in Tasmania’s winter months, fire is used in The Nightingale as a symbol of hope and comfort in times of hardship. Clare sings about longing for Summer’s arrival seeking comfort and trying to find peace in her situation, knowing that it will eventually pass. Perhaps for many searching for comfort and solace in such horrible situations is something truly needed in times of despair.
There are moments of beauty and glimpses of light in this film, which is much needed by audiences who may feel overwhelmed by the violence depicted onscreen. Clare and Billy, who have been treated throughout the film like objects, are shown hospitality by a family who let them stay for the night and provide the two with a meal. Billy, who often eats by himself, is invited to sit with the family at the dinner table and they treat him in a way he should have always been treated, a human being.
Personally, I’d like to believe hope will always exist even in the darkest of situations. In The Nightingale the story seems to explore this aspect of grief, oppression and hardship in times where protagonists are dealing with a horrid situation, and tells us that things will always get better.
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The Nightingale is out now.
Review by Addy Fong
