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ABC News
an hour ago
- ABC News
Bring Her Back review: This is a horror movie you'll only watch once
Australians watched on in awe in 2022 as grubby YouTubers the RackaRacka brothers transformed, Cinderella-style, into horror auteurs with their debut screamer, Talk To Me. What: Two orphaned children are sent to live with a mysterious guardian who is a bit too interested in the occult. Starring: Sally Hawkins, Billy Barrett, Sora Wong, Jonah Wren Phillips Directed by: Michael and Danny Philippou When: In cinemas now Likely to make you feel: Disturbed yet invigorated Three years later, Michael and Danny Philippou have returned with Bring Her Back, a step up for the twin brothers in terms of style, character and disturbing content. Bring Her Back begins with the most tragic of circumstances and it only gets worse from there. Parentified big brother Andy (Billy Barrett) and his visually impaired tween sister Piper (Sora Wong) find their father and only guardian dead on the shower floor. Social services try to split the siblings up but, after Andy's determined protest, they both get shipped off to Laura's (Sally Hawkins) house. Laura is your mum's hippyish friend that gave you bad vibes as a kid. She's sweet, if not a little bit ditzy, but will stomp all over any reasonable boundary while gaslighting anyone that will listen to make out she's the victim. She's obviously not happy about having to take Andy in for three months before he turns 18, but Piper is the apple of her eye. It turns out she had a biological child, Cathy, who was also visually impaired, but drowned not long ago, and it's clear she sees Piper as her replacement — it's only later we find out how literally she means that. But there's one more child living in Laura's lush South Australian home. Ten-year-old Ollie (Jonah Wren Phillips) is introduced shirtless and standing in an ominously drained pool. "Selectively mute" and sporting a mysterious shiner, Ollie is relegated to his locked room — that is, when he's not being led by Laura in the middle of the night to a deadbolted shed. Much will be made of the skilfully executed gore in Bring Her Back. It is plentiful, extreme, sickeningly realistic and will make you rethink every time you absent-mindedly nibble a snack off the end of a knife. But it never slips into being gratuitous and is a wonderful showcase for the practical effect work coming from AACTA winners Make-up Effects Group and prosthetics wiz Larry Van Duynhoven (whose work you'll also be able to catch in upcoming Aus body horror Together.) And behind the blood and viscera in Bring her Back, there is an affecting, character-forward rumination on grief and the lengths people will go to in order to avoid it. Grief horror has become a well-worn trope with Australian films like Lake Mungo and The Babadook championing the subgenre. It's become so popular that it runs the risk of being over-utilised. But the intricacies and performances of Bring Her Back's core four characters keep the film feeling fresh. Barrett, a young British actor with an international Emmy already under his belt, sells both the vulnerability and anger that comes with being an adolescent male. He acts as Piper's protector, which manifests in delicate gestures like flipping a sun visor up so his sister can enjoy the afternoon beams on her face. But he also shelters his sister with lies to keep her from life's harsher visuals, and expresses his pent-up frustrations by pumping iron and slamming creatine. Wong, who the Philippous plucked out of a school drama class for her first theatrical role, is treated like a wounded dove in a sea of hungry vultures. Young and easily influenced, you'll want to reach through the screen to protect Piper, until she proves that she's more than capable of protecting herself. If there is any justice in the world, Bring Her Back would herald a third Oscar nomination for Sally Hawkins. The British actor not only absolutely embodies the 90s kooky, crunchy Australian mum accent but her journey as Laura is nothing short of phenomenal. The undeniable Big Bad of the film, she dares to touch on the uncomfortable reality that some parents only care about the wellbeing of their own biological child. Laura is conniving, manipulative and, eventually, outright abusive — but she's also pitiful as a mother enslaved to the idea she could see her daughter again. However, the MVP trophy belongs to Phillips (How To Make Gravy) as Ollie. Barely into double digits, the film labours him with extreme content that he pulls off with aplomb. Perpetually covered with sickly blue veins and open gashes, he only has about five lines of dialogue. But his physical performance — accentuated by his impossibly wide, round, glassy eyes — is where most of the visual terror of the film is derived. There are multiple stomach-sinking moments during run time and it's always when Ollie is on screen. With the performances on lock, the Philippous relish in filling the gaps with their trademark humour and Australiana flare. (Exposing an international audience to Shannon Noll's 'What About Me' AND 'Untouched' by The Veronicas is surely grounds for an Order of Australia.) Writers Danny Philippou and Bill Hinzman leave just enough of a curiosity gap in how the mechanics of Laura's cult activities actually work, ensuring many exciting post-watch debates. Everything in their writing is cyclical, with visual and aural motifs bending back around on themselves in ways you would never predict. They're also smart enough to include a reassuring coda to keep the film slipping into complete misery porn. If this is what the future of Australian horror looks like, then it is very bright (and absolutely terrifying). Bring Her Back is in Australian cinemas now.
Sydney Morning Herald
2 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘Grave robber' posed for the cameras as he pillaged human remains
The collecting of human remains on an almost industrial scale began in the 19th century and continued long into the 20th. One of the museums most active in collecting human remains was the Smithsonian Institution in Washington DC, and it was a partner in the expedition to Arnhem Land, along with the National Geographic Society. Frank Setzler was constitutionally incapable of entering an Aboriginal burial ground without thinking about how to rob it. He had form on this front, having collected many remains of Native American people earlier in his career. They were all accessioned into the Smithsonian's physical anthropology collection, one of the largest collections of human bones in the world. It is a sign of his brashness that he allowed a colleague to film his 'grave robbing', as other scientists on the expedition called it. Captured on celluloid, Setzler's actions are repellent yet compelling. Watching it now in the 21st century, with the old 16-millimetre footage converted into a digital file, it is easy to stop and start the film, or to magnify it until the image dissolves into a pixelated blur. In making the film, Setzler transformed the fleetingness of the theft into something that would last forever. His handwritten diary is as brutally candid as the film. He frankly acknowledges his duplicity towards the Bininj, as the people of west Arnhem Land call themselves. In an entry some weeks earlier, he recorded the moment he first spotted the bones. At that stage he was still getting his bearings on the hill. When a Bininj guide showed him around, he could hardly believe the abundance of human remains. But he kept his thoughts to himself: 'I paid no attention to these bones as long as the native was with me'. By the time he was ready to take the bones, he knew the site well, having spent some weeks on the plateau excavating for stone tools. Before he took the bones, he liaised with the expedition's American photographer Howell Walker, who agreed to join him on the plateau and shoot both still and moving footage of their acquisition. The film shows how they tried to make the theft a pedagogical performance, presumably to give it scientific credibility. Setzler at one point can be seen lifting and handling a skull. He points out distinctive features and then slots its jaw in place before presenting to the camera its largely toothless grin. The final seconds of the bone stealing show a glimpse of distant scenery. There is a strip of land, the grass yellow-brown. Further away lies the gleaming billabong and beyond it the mission dwellings. The sequence ends when Setzler and the expedition Australian guide Bill Harney (who suddenly appears from nowhere) cross the frame. Manhandling the now lidded crate, they disappear from the picture. The film is jarringly out of time. It stinks of the body-snatching of the 19th century. Yet we see it through the medium of cinema, that most 20th-century of art forms, and in colour no less. Another disconnect is the lack of soundtrack. We tend to expect that a colour film will have audio, but without the lecture that once accompanied it, there is nothing but deadly silence. No voice. No birdsong. Everything is mute. This sequence is part of the National Geographic Society documentary film Aboriginal Australia. Exhibited only in the US at conferences and in lecture halls, it communicates the story of the 1948 expedition to Americans. Outtakes – often disposed of by production houses – have in this case survived and they tell a most fascinating tale. Not only did Setzler perform the theft for Walker's camera, but he re-performed it in various ways, actively experimenting with his presentation. In the footage intended for public exhibition, he assumes the role of a serious field scientist making a significant discovery. That is very different from a take in which he hams it up as a madcap explorer. In that sequence, he marches into frame and feigns astonishment as he 'discovers' the very bones that he first saw weeks earlier. With cartoonish gesticulations, he signals to the out-of-frame Harney to come and look. Not until Harney is fully in view and enacting his own surprise does Setzler begin to reap his grim harvest. Amidst the jumble of takes and retakes, we see him at one point returning a skull to its crevice so he can perform the theft in a different way. Sixty years later, having recently obtained copies of the film from the National Geographic Society, I sat with the eminent elder Jacob Nayinggul on his veranda in the Banyan Camp at Gunbalanya, watching this material on a laptop. He, too, was silent – silent with rage. As the film reveals, Setzler became brasher and bolder as the expedition neared the end. His personal diary reveals pride in the ruses he went to in avoiding the scrutiny of locals. To provide manpower on his digs for stone tools, which occurred in rock shelters on Injalak (conveniently close to the ossuaries), two teenagers from the mission were assigned to him as archaeological assistants. One was Jimmy Bungaroo, who would become a well-known community leader in Maningrida later in life. The other man was Mickey (whose full name never appears in the expedition records). The pair can be seen in expedition films and photos, sifting soil that throws up great clouds of dust. Setzler supervises, wearing a protective mask. But there were no masks for the two youngsters who were actually performing the hard labour. The heat of those days was crippling. Setzler estimated that inside the tents, the temperature reached 110 degrees Fahrenheit (43.3 degrees Celsius) during the day. Outside, the air was thick and stagnant. The period known to Territorians as 'the build-up' had begun. High temperatures are matched with high humidity, a sure signal that the wet season is on its way. In these conditions, it is little wonder that Setzler's workers required a siesta after a morning spent shifting and inhaling dirt. This provided the opportunity to acquire another cache of bones, as Setzler explained. 'During the lunch period, while the two native boys were asleep, I gathered the two skeletons which had been placed in crevices outside the caves. These were disarticulated ... and only skull and long bones. One had been painted with red ochre. These I carried down to the camp in burlap sacks and later packed in ammunition boxes.' On November 1 it rained. The wet season was nigh. Setzler had discovered more bones that he would have stolen, but he had nothing to pack them in. Even so, he had garnered a rich harvest. He carefully 'painted the ammunition boxes containing skeletal material and numbered them consecutively after my personal box numbers'. He screwed them shut and noted: 'These will go to US without opening in Sydney'. They were ready for transportation to their eventual destination, the Smithsonian Institution in Washington. There they would remain for the next 60 years.
The Age
2 hours ago
- The Age
‘Grave robber' posed for the cameras as he pillaged human remains
The collecting of human remains on an almost industrial scale began in the 19th century and continued long into the 20th. One of the museums most active in collecting human remains was the Smithsonian Institution in Washington DC, and it was a partner in the expedition to Arnhem Land, along with the National Geographic Society. Frank Setzler was constitutionally incapable of entering an Aboriginal burial ground without thinking about how to rob it. He had form on this front, having collected many remains of Native American people earlier in his career. They were all accessioned into the Smithsonian's physical anthropology collection, one of the largest collections of human bones in the world. It is a sign of his brashness that he allowed a colleague to film his 'grave robbing', as other scientists on the expedition called it. Captured on celluloid, Setzler's actions are repellent yet compelling. Watching it now in the 21st century, with the old 16-millimetre footage converted into a digital file, it is easy to stop and start the film, or to magnify it until the image dissolves into a pixelated blur. In making the film, Setzler transformed the fleetingness of the theft into something that would last forever. His handwritten diary is as brutally candid as the film. He frankly acknowledges his duplicity towards the Bininj, as the people of west Arnhem Land call themselves. In an entry some weeks earlier, he recorded the moment he first spotted the bones. At that stage he was still getting his bearings on the hill. When a Bininj guide showed him around, he could hardly believe the abundance of human remains. But he kept his thoughts to himself: 'I paid no attention to these bones as long as the native was with me'. By the time he was ready to take the bones, he knew the site well, having spent some weeks on the plateau excavating for stone tools. Before he took the bones, he liaised with the expedition's American photographer Howell Walker, who agreed to join him on the plateau and shoot both still and moving footage of their acquisition. The film shows how they tried to make the theft a pedagogical performance, presumably to give it scientific credibility. Setzler at one point can be seen lifting and handling a skull. He points out distinctive features and then slots its jaw in place before presenting to the camera its largely toothless grin. The final seconds of the bone stealing show a glimpse of distant scenery. There is a strip of land, the grass yellow-brown. Further away lies the gleaming billabong and beyond it the mission dwellings. The sequence ends when Setzler and the expedition Australian guide Bill Harney (who suddenly appears from nowhere) cross the frame. Manhandling the now lidded crate, they disappear from the picture. The film is jarringly out of time. It stinks of the body-snatching of the 19th century. Yet we see it through the medium of cinema, that most 20th-century of art forms, and in colour no less. Another disconnect is the lack of soundtrack. We tend to expect that a colour film will have audio, but without the lecture that once accompanied it, there is nothing but deadly silence. No voice. No birdsong. Everything is mute. This sequence is part of the National Geographic Society documentary film Aboriginal Australia. Exhibited only in the US at conferences and in lecture halls, it communicates the story of the 1948 expedition to Americans. Outtakes – often disposed of by production houses – have in this case survived and they tell a most fascinating tale. Not only did Setzler perform the theft for Walker's camera, but he re-performed it in various ways, actively experimenting with his presentation. In the footage intended for public exhibition, he assumes the role of a serious field scientist making a significant discovery. That is very different from a take in which he hams it up as a madcap explorer. In that sequence, he marches into frame and feigns astonishment as he 'discovers' the very bones that he first saw weeks earlier. With cartoonish gesticulations, he signals to the out-of-frame Harney to come and look. Not until Harney is fully in view and enacting his own surprise does Setzler begin to reap his grim harvest. Amidst the jumble of takes and retakes, we see him at one point returning a skull to its crevice so he can perform the theft in a different way. Sixty years later, having recently obtained copies of the film from the National Geographic Society, I sat with the eminent elder Jacob Nayinggul on his veranda in the Banyan Camp at Gunbalanya, watching this material on a laptop. He, too, was silent – silent with rage. As the film reveals, Setzler became brasher and bolder as the expedition neared the end. His personal diary reveals pride in the ruses he went to in avoiding the scrutiny of locals. To provide manpower on his digs for stone tools, which occurred in rock shelters on Injalak (conveniently close to the ossuaries), two teenagers from the mission were assigned to him as archaeological assistants. One was Jimmy Bungaroo, who would become a well-known community leader in Maningrida later in life. The other man was Mickey (whose full name never appears in the expedition records). The pair can be seen in expedition films and photos, sifting soil that throws up great clouds of dust. Setzler supervises, wearing a protective mask. But there were no masks for the two youngsters who were actually performing the hard labour. The heat of those days was crippling. Setzler estimated that inside the tents, the temperature reached 110 degrees Fahrenheit (43.3 degrees Celsius) during the day. Outside, the air was thick and stagnant. The period known to Territorians as 'the build-up' had begun. High temperatures are matched with high humidity, a sure signal that the wet season is on its way. In these conditions, it is little wonder that Setzler's workers required a siesta after a morning spent shifting and inhaling dirt. This provided the opportunity to acquire another cache of bones, as Setzler explained. 'During the lunch period, while the two native boys were asleep, I gathered the two skeletons which had been placed in crevices outside the caves. These were disarticulated ... and only skull and long bones. One had been painted with red ochre. These I carried down to the camp in burlap sacks and later packed in ammunition boxes.' On November 1 it rained. The wet season was nigh. Setzler had discovered more bones that he would have stolen, but he had nothing to pack them in. Even so, he had garnered a rich harvest. He carefully 'painted the ammunition boxes containing skeletal material and numbered them consecutively after my personal box numbers'. He screwed them shut and noted: 'These will go to US without opening in Sydney'. They were ready for transportation to their eventual destination, the Smithsonian Institution in Washington. There they would remain for the next 60 years.
