#apparently some people are unaware that a person can deeply adore a single character for years if not an entire lifetime

[taralen]

◉‿◉

To the [[ones]] out there who say all Spamton fans will move on once the new secret boss is out—let me say this:

Deltarune's next secret bosses could be the sexiest [[mfers]] I will ever lay my eyes on, but absolutely none of them will top Spamton.

Spamton is the [[near]] perfect blend of everything I like in a character and then some. A character that inspires and connects with me at a level this deep is not one easily replaced.

Will some other fans move on? Yes.

But not this one.

8^)

[dweemeister]

The Man from Snowy River (1982)

With the greatest American actors that had ever appeared in an American Western dying or in the final stages of their careers, the Western genre appeared to be on the retreat in the 1980s. To the annals of time went Westerns like The Shootist (1976), starring an ailing John Wayne in a benevolent role, and Spaghetti Westerns like Once Upon a Time in the West (1968; Spaghetti Westerns were Western movies produced in Italy, with transnational casts that led to a lot of dubbing). But in 1982, one Western film emerged from a nation not often associated with the genre: Australia – bonus points if you can think up of two or more Australian Westerns and, yes, The Thorn Birds miniseries can count). The film is The Man from Snowy River, directed by George T. Miller – not to be confused of George Miller of Mad Max fame – and it is adapted from Banjo Paterson’s poem of the same name (Paterson is most famous for “Waltzing Matilda”). The Man from Snowy River is an uncommonly old-fashioned Western, given its story, but contains some of the most beautiful backdrops to any film released in its decade.

The Man from Snowy River opens with a young man, Jim Craig (Tom Burlinson), witnessing the death of his father, Henry (Terence Donovan). Henry is killed by a collection of stampeding wild horses known as the Brumby mob that will figure later in the film. Before inheriting his father’s lands, Jim must head down from the Snowy Mountains and find work. Away from home, unaware of what there is to see outside lands familiar and welcoming, Jim meets the one-legged backwoods prospector Spur (Kirk Douglas) and will begin work for Spur’s brother, Harrison (Douglas in a second role). At Harrison’s station/ranch, Jim meets Harrison’s young daughter, Jessica (Sigrid Thornton). They – you guessed it – fall for each other, and this coming-of-age tale takes off from there with plenty of beautiful horses and landscapes along the way.

John Dixon’s adapted screenplay tends towards the predictable– almost as if in the style of more serious Disney live-action films – especially in regards to the romantic subplot and Jim and Jessica’s deteriorating relationship with Harrison. Yet the writing accomplishes a depiction of two young adults in open rebellion against their boss (or in Jessica’s case, her father). The assumptions that yes, they know better than their elders – given Harrison’s temperamental habits and misogyny (he repeatedly threatens to send Jessica away to a women’s college when she is being disobedient, as well as physical punishment), it’s generally true for this story – is bounded together by recklessness and youthful wisdom gained all too early in life. Compared to the male-centric poem the film itself is adapted from, Dixon’s adapted screenplay includes women characters, but never truly incorporates the feminism that Jessica is espousing to Jim and her father, never fully explores Jessica’s relationship with her female tutor. Unfocused as this storytelling can be at times and as soapy as plot developments can be, these are themes familiar to earlier American Westerns and gendered roles apparent in rural, post-colonial Australia.

The generational divides between the older Harrison and the two youngest people under his roofs become pronounced in the middle third of the film, as Jessica becomes openly defiant of her father, leading to a pre-climactic sequence that – without spoiling what happens – seems a bit too rushed, given that there is still plenty of time left in the film. Later, in the actual climax, Tom Burlinson – who had never ridden a single horse before shooting began – performs a dangerous horse stunt at an angle that will leave jaws hanging.

Speaking of Burlinson, his performance in The Man from Snowy River saw the young actor do all of his riding on-screen. When dismounted, Burlinson is a capable actor in his first feature-length film, yet strangely never became a bigger movie star in Australia or elsewhere (worse performances from young actors have translated into greater fame later). Burlinson is able to convey his youthful innocence effectively despite his inexperience. That innocence pairs well with Sigrid Thornton, whose performance is more assured thanks to several years of Australian television roles. For Kirk Douglas, his double performance is inconsistent. Though passable as Harrison, he is overacting as Spur – as if Spur is a more combustible, landlocked Ned Land from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954).

Regarding their treatment of Jim and Jessica, Miller and Dixon – perhaps intuiting that Jim is a young man who has rarely met women his age before, and that Jessica is surrounded by roughhousing, bearded men many years older than her – frame the romance with such wholesomeness, that their more intimate overtures elicited some groans from yours truly. One extended montage of Jim and Jessica riding back to the Harrison homestead depicts them making out at several random times, returning immediately after a near-death experience for Jessica – “All I wanted to see you again. To be with you, nothing else. So I hung on.” This raises several questions, of course. As there had been no establishment of mutual attraction up until this moment, where the hell did Jessica’s feelings come from? And if they’re going to kiss so much on horseback, why not do it in greater comfort by stopping for the evening, lying down on a comfy knoll, and asking profound questions of which there may be no answers to? That might not be the most romantic plan of action, but it makes a hell of a lot more sense than Jim and Jessica providing suction for each other every hundred meters.

Cinematographer Keith Wagstaff might not have shot the film in Southeast Australia’s Snowy Mountains or along the Snowy River, but nearby in the Victorian Alps. For those unaware of Australian geography – and that is most of us including yours truly – the panoramic vistas of tree-lined mountains, sloping valleys, and craggy ridges alongside long-grassed openings are deeply rewarding as Miller and his editor Adrian Carr (who makes bizarre decisions in some of the moments including the Brumby mob) linger here, allowing the audience to soak the views in. Several seconds of Jim, Jessica, and a horse silhouetted by sunset recall early Technicolor films. Such red hues are prized by any filmmaker that knows how colors can strengthen their movie.

With a beautiful film score composed by Bruce Rowland, the only aspect that detracts from this element is that it sounds like Rowland’s orchestration – the selection of which instrumental sections receive which musical lines as well as how many players per section and in the entire orchestra – was constrained due to budgetary issues and might include some synthetic padding (if The Man from Snowy River was a Hollywood production – though distributed by 20th Century Fox – the film was primarily produced in Australia – a fuller, richer sound would have enriched the film). A deft balance between woodwinds, brass, strings, and piano – Jessica is a piano player, and even plays part of her own theme as diegetic music – for the competing melodic leitmotifs defines this score. Even “Clancy’s Theme” – derived from a hummed melody from a secondary character – is a welcome expansion of what might otherwise be a throwaway musical idea. It’s an economical score, and Rowland knows when his music should be emphasized and when it should not. 

The Man from Snowy River never quite found an audience outside of Australia, where it remains popular, and where fans of the film can also visit a replication of the Craigs’ hut. Six years later, a sequel – known as The Man from Snowy River II in Australia, Return to Snowy River in the United States, and The Untamed in Britain – was released by Walt Disney and also starred Burlinson and Thornton, reprising their original roles. In that sequel, Brian Dennehy replaced Douglas as Harrison. The film also was designated by Australia’s National Film and Sound Archive (Australia’s equivalent to the United States’ National Film Registry) as a cultural, cinematic touchstone, marking it for preservation for future audiences.

This film might not have inspired a resurgence in the Western, nor did it begin a surge of Australian Westerns to be exported around the world. Yet its influences from the grandest traditions of American Westerns combined with a unique Australian viewpoint and unabashed adoration of the horses – domesticated and otherwise – trotting and galloping to and fro makes The Man from Snowy River a delight to watch. The film has flaws aplenty and is hampered by not possessing more resources, but one always senses that life in those parts of Australia, in that time, was one filled with daily labors, a freedom that comes with living alongside nature.

My rating: 7.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here.