Directed by, written by and starring a whirlwind by the name of Leah Purcell, “The Legend of Molly Johnson” (aka “The Drover’s Wife: The Legend of Molly Johnson”) is a harrowing portrait of a woman and her children alone in the late 19th century Australian frontier.
Already the mother of a small brood, Molly is pregnant when we first meet her. While her beloved husband is away driving sheep, Molly, armed with a single-shot rifle, is left alone in the Snowy Mountains to tend to the farm and the children. They all live together in a glorified hut.
To the tune of Salliana Seven Campbell’s Australian country score, Molly makes fast work of a rogue bull threatening her children and keeps a keen eye on a coach arriving at her door, its occupants lured by the smell of the bull’s smoking meat. They are wounded war veteran Sergeant Nate Klintoff (Sam Reid) and his sickly wife Louisa (Jessica de Gouw), a feminist journalist, whose sister was killed by an abusive husband. Nate has been hired to be a policeman at a new, nearby town, its expansion funded by a single, rich family.
Molly asks Nate and Louisa to take her children to town where they will be cared for by an acquaintance. Just as the elderly local judge tells Nate that murder will not be tolerated, six white bodies show up. The prime suspect is mixed-race Black man Yadaka (a very good Rob Collins), whose roots have mysterious depths.
We’ve seen these women-in-the-wilderness tales before, most recently in the Tasmanian-set feminist drama ”The Nightingale.” But few have brought together such a Dickensian host of faces, voices and histories. Purcell has reworked the often anthologized, 1892 Australian short story “The Drover’s Wife” by Henry Lawson (she previously adapted the story into a 2016 play).
“The Legend of Molly Johnson” is both a throwback to such Australian New Wave classics as Fred Schepisi’s “The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith” (1979) and a look forward to films representing indigenous women made by indigenous women. In many ways, Purcell, who is the youngest of seven children of Australian Aboriginal descent, has taken her own rural childhood and turned it into a teeming Australian Western.
Danny Johnson, Molly’s young, freckle-faced 12-year-old son, is an Australian Tom Sawyer, who yearns for a father figure and has already learned some terrible lessons about truth, fiction and violence. The lilting strings give way to wailing electric guitars. Be warned: The violence is intense. Louisa’s locally published story about “battered wives” could not be more topical. Yadaka tells a rapt Danny and Molly about his work as a tuba-playing circus clown. Molly’s constant sweeping of the dirt in front of her door takes on both a manic and symbolic quality.
Purcell’s dialogue can use a bit of polishing and focus. The depiction of the white police officer Nate Klintoff is ambiguous to a fault. But in spite of a tragic ending, Purcell has forged a thrilling story of human resilience. “The Legend of Molly Johnson” sweeps you up and away.
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‘THE LEGEND OF MOLLY JOHNSON’
Grade A-
No MPAA rating: (contains extreme violence, cruelty, profanity and sexual assault)
Running time: 1:49
How to watch: On digital and VOD
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