It was a midbudget action film, helmed by star Keanu Reeves’s former stunt double in The Matrix. Still, if we could have at least one more, that would be great.Chad Stahelski’s John Wick entered the market in late October 2014 with unexceptional prospects. If it does turn out to be Weir’s final film, it’s not a bad one to go out on. Seen today, The Way Back is a film that may be old-fashioned in its execution but is refreshing in the current cultural climate an adventure for adults powered by the will to survive. You can well imagine a lesser director putting a dogged Soviet commander on their heels, and let’s be thankful Weir has more restraint. It’s also a film that relies on drama rather than action the forces our protagonists are up against, be they the merciless machinations of the state or the uncaring elements, are vast and indifferent, and so Weir puts his focus on how his characters react to such overwhelming odds, rather than personifying them in an antagonist. We’ve become so accustomed to computer-generated backlots taking us to any place we can imagine that the granular, tangible feel of a film that you know wasn’t shot against a green screen is utterly arresting. The location work is jaw-dropping, with filming taking place in Bulgaria, Morocco and India, the action of the film set against windswept deserts, frozen forests and pitiless crags. Much like Master and Commander, The Way Back belongs in the “they don’t make them like that anymore” file. And then there’s Colin Farrell, all vulpine grin and prison tattoos as Valka, a Russian criminal who worships Stalin as, essentially, the toughest gangster in Russia. Ed Harris is mesmerising as the taciturn Mr Smith, an American wracked with guilt because his decision to defect to the Soviet Union ultimately resulted in the execution of his son. Yet the two most striking performances come from more familiar faces. Based on the book by Sławomir Rawicz, The Way Back tells the true (allegedly – there has been some controversy) story of a mixed group of prisoners who escaped a Siberian gulag during World War II and walked over 4000 miles to freedom in northern India, crossing the Gobi Desert and the Himalayas on the way. In The Way Back, it’s definitely the former. From the predatory towns of The Cars That Ate Paris and The Truman Show, the rigidly hierarchical schools of Hanging Rock and the Dead Poets, the military organisations of Gallipoli and Master and Commander, and the self-isolated communities of Witness and The Mosquito Coast (1987), the common thread is the notion of people simply trying to live together, often by codes that are either forced upon them, or that they have chosen but that are alien to mainstream society. Like all auteurs, Weir has favoured themes he revisits in his work, and chief among them is the idea of communities and how they function, or sometimes fail to. His Australian New Wave contemporaries are no slouches, either, but we know who wears the crown. Consider his entire body of work, including the satirical The Cars That Ate Paris (1974), ecological horror The Last Wave (1977), and his Hollywood years that produced Witness (1985), Dead Poets Society (1989), The Truman Show (1998) and more, and it’s unarguable. That’s an assertion that might prompt the beginning of a pushback, until you realise that even if he had only made, say, Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975) and Gallipoli (1981), he’d have a fair claim on the title. That’s genuinely upsetting for fans of Australian cinema, given that the Sydney-born 76-year-old is without a doubt the finest filmmaker this country has produced. At the time of writing, it is Weir’s last feature film. Coming not exactly on the heels of the, ahem, masterful Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003), 2010’s The Way Back was met with critical acclaim but little box office success. It is downright criminal that we haven’t had a film from director Peter Weir in eleven years.
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