Starring: Mia Wasikowski, Damon Herriman, Benedict Hardie, Gillian Jones, Terry Norris, Lucy Vellik, Don Bridges, Tom Budge, Virginia Gay.
Distributor: Madman Films
Runtime: 105 mins. Reviewed in Nov 2019
Quite a surprise, with some moments of shock, a real-life Punch and Judy show.
Who of us knows the origins of Punch and Judy shows. (So, off to that information shortcut, Wikipedia. Which century, what year? England 1662, the beginning of the Restoration period, some influence from Italian shows, especially the character of Puncianello, a marionette entertainment.”
Of course, we have all seen some actual Punch and Judy shows: the main two characters, literally sparring with each other, most of the memories being of each of them with what looked like a baseball bat having goes at each other – the children rollicking with laughter, even at the violence.
So, this is a film of origins. And, obviously writer and director, Mirrah Foulkes, wanted to make a point about the inherent misogyny in the shows. We see Mia Waskiowski’s Judy first rather than Punch (an eerie Damon Herriman whom we have seen as Charles Manson via Quentin Tarantino, smilingly sinister and the brutal soldier in The Nightingale.) The screenplay weaves a tale, touches of fantasy, touches of the supernatural and superstition, touches of myth, more than a touch of misogyny, a portrait of a very unpleasant community.
We have a fable about the village and the people in the village. We have a parable, inviting us into a world which, at first, we might seem to know, but then subverting all the expectations of how the village and the villagers should live. A shrewd opening in inviting the audience to follow the young girl, Scout, through the darkness to the village walls, past the women of the night, into the tavern, settling in to watch the entertainment, Judy wandering among the rough clients, impoverished, both men and women, trying to collect some coins and then Punch, introducing himself, vanishing with a puff of smoke behind the curtain and then Judy and Punch and the skilled puppeteering of their show. Judy was to say that it was rather violent, Punch replying that that was what the audience wanted.
Rural England of the 17th century not unlike their cousins across the Atlantic later in Salem and other towns, there was a fierce religiosity, belief in the devil and evil rather than in goodness and God, experiences of sin and, what often follows with allegedly good people, finding scapegoats on which to load malevolent burdens. Here you show an ousted community, mainly of women, condemned as witches. And the morose villagers eager for public denunciations, stonings and hangings, with Punch casting the first stone, certainly not innocent.
We gasp at a scene the death of a baby, Punch not only not grieving but ready for a cover-up, scapegoating the two elderly servants in the house, beating his wife and burying her in the forest.
A Punch and Judy show in real life.
But there is a transition to the woods with a group of women exiled as witches, healing power, welcoming Judy to community, but a community of no fixed abode.
British theatre in the 17th century had traditions of blood and revenge – and here as well, Punch tormented during the storm, a cloak hanging in the lightning light as a diabolical presence. Punch has elicited no sympathy for us, then his malice in sacrificing the servants, and then his rationalising, like so many self-righteous allegedly religious people, telling the vindictive crowd, eager for the hangings, that he was not guilty but it was the devil through the servants. And the crowd was relieved that the hangings could go on. Punch himself pulling the lever.
The climax is powerful, unexpected, vengeance on Punch – a padded cell and a bizarre picture of a Punch and Judy performance. Before we leave the cinema, the credits show a collage and collection of black and white clips of children enjoying the Punch and Judy show.
Peter Malone MSC is an Associate of the Australian Catholic Office for Film and Broadcasting.
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