Starring: Kipan Rothbury, David Field, Lizzie Schebesta, Barbara Gouskos, Panda Likoudis
Distributor: Screenlight Pictures
Runtime: 91 mins. Reviewed in Oct 2016
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In a post-screening Q&A session, ‘Sacred Heart’ star David Field called it a ‘brave’ film. He’s right – the narrative tackles enormous questions within the framework of faith and religion, and packages them in an occasionally troubling and provocative presentation, as widower Robert all but holds his priest hostage in his home to work through his theological frustrations. However, its bravery is rewarded with a compelling, two-hander centrepiece, in which the two men spar and grapple with their own demons, and come to terms with their relationship to each other and to Christianity.
As the film’s ambitious opening shot floats over a sparse cemetery, writer-director Kosta Nikas’ occupation with faith and religious iconography is clear. Far below, Robert (Kipan Rothbury) farewells his pregnant wife Margaret (Lizzie Schebesta), while the presiding priest (David Field) watches on. The priest tries to offer some consolation to Robert, but is aggressively rebuked – the adults-only rating on the film frustratingly limits its audience, but it’s clearly well-earned. After a few stops around town, drinking heavily, Robert goes home. There’s a montage buried in this opening act where Robert’s relationship with Margaret is conveyed in flashes, a fractional montage pieced together by editor Rishi Shukla and powered by the heavy percussion of composer Matt Lord. It radiates the power of cinema, conveying a meeting, a courtship, a life, in just a handful of images.
Back home, Robert downs a cocktail of assorted drugs and alcohol, and sets about dismantling his home with a violent amateur renovator’s touch. Kipan Rothbury is given a good deal of heavy lifting in the film, often left talking and raving to himself, but the young actor conveys the horror of seeing his life disintegrate with flashes of the look and intensity of a younger Joaquin Phoenix shining through. A late twist in his character’s development comes as a surprise, and while the nature of the twist makes it feel like somewhat into disingenuous shock value, it has some interesting ramifications within the story.
Invoking the names of God and Lucifer in his ranting, Robert is surprised to see who else but his priest walk into the house. It becomes clear that this may not be as simple as it appears, but the two men spend the majority of the film grappling with the clichéd questions that a grieving man might ask of his faith – ‘Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people?’ and so forth. To say that the questions are clichéd is not a criticism, as the priest ably parries the charges, defending the comfort offered by his religion. David Field is given a character with deeper sensitivity than he is often afforded in his numerous television roles, where his characterisation often begins and ends at his gruff demeanour. Their conversation and their relationship is poised on a knife’s edge, and while Robert’s almost bipolar flipping back and forth between rage and calm become tiring, they tease out some interesting observations, particularly when confronting the taboo. You are struck with the sense that this heart of the picture could be mounted just as effectively as a play (given its limited setting and cast), but the production elements are competently mounted.
Some viewers may struggle with its attempts to discuss religion in a frank and occasionally irreverent manner, but for those who give it a chance it should address or arouse some niggling doubts. It’s good to see that low budget Australian cinema still has ambition, and more importantly, courage.
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