Review of the film “One Way Road” by Luke Spark

Tomorrow, Luke Spark’s road movie Bring Him to Me opens in theaters. At a glance Mikhail Trofimenkov, This is quintessentially Australian cinema. The unpretentious criminal story is filled with monumental and almost mystical solemnity.

The original title of the film, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia, plays on the title of Sam Peckinpah’s great, bloody-cynical and desperately lyrical masterpiece, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia (1972).

Only in Peckinpah the hero, a loser pianist, brought the mafia boss across Mexico the severed head of his friend, who had knocked up the “godfather’s” daughter and managed to happily die in a car accident. And here the head, which the hero-anti-hero, succinctly designated in the credits as simply the Driver (Barry Pepper), is driving by the “godlady” of the Australian underworld, not only sits firmly on the shoulders of the raider Passenger (Jamie Costa), but also chatters incessantly. And only the Driver realizes that for the Passenger this is a one-way trip.

The third full-fledged hero of the film is an antique car from 1970, a favorite and the same age as the Driver. It is contraindicated for him when passengers slam doors, but otherwise he is still wow. The passenger is in awe of the genuine leather seats and the working cigarette lighter. “Did you give a lot for it?” — he asks with envy. “Not at all: it’s a gift.”

The driver matches his “filly”: long beard and hair, a love of Italian opera and an old-fashioned manner of holding a pistol ready for battle next to the cigarette lighter. No, no, he is by no means a killer, although sometimes he takes passengers to certain death, but simply an excellent driver with rally experience in the service of evil people.

The plot of the story is explained in the first minutes. Two raiders ran over someone who should never have been run over. The sedate antique dealer with noble gray hair has seen enough in forty years of work that the screams of thugs who burst into his shop are simply funny to him. Apparently, the grandfather holds the common fund of a certain organized crime group and knows for sure that none of the robbers will have time to spend a single cent of the money stolen from him.

But everything goes somewhat differently than the authors of the robbery expected, error is superimposed on error, the scumbag’s rage is superimposed on the antiquarian’s rage, misunderstanding is superimposed on misunderstanding. And now the Driver is taking the Passenger to a fierce showdown, the results of which clearly leave the Passenger with no head. The journey gives viewers the opportunity to admire the mystical and epic landscapes of Australia. And the heroes must shed the blood of eccentrics along the way, who consider an antique Driver in an antique car an easy prey.

The most amazing thing about “The Road” is that the predictability of the plot twists does not deprive the film of its freshness or paralyze the audience’s interest.

Yes, it is clear from the very beginning that the Passenger will turn out to be a great guy. It’s clear from the very minute when, on the way to execution, he asks the Driver to drop off his ten-year-old daughter at his ex-wife’s house. The Driver’s family life is also not easy. And Passenger also loves to dress up as Batman, who “looks fear in the face,” and goes with his Batgirl daughter to costume parties. He also has asthma, and in the middle of a fight or shootout, the most important thing for him is not to lose his inhaler. Well, how can you not fall in love with such a sweetheart, if, of course, you turn away from his daily work.

But all these gangster lyrics, I repeat, do not irritate, they are taken for granted. Another thing is surprising.

Australia, a state with an area of ​​8,600,000 square kilometers, through which the heroes travel for a long, long time, turns out to be very small. The Driver and Passenger had only driven a few hundred kilometers when they were stopped by a vigilant patrolman. And the car is wonderfully registered in his orientation, and the “clients” have fresh blood on their sleeves. But then it turns out that the policeman almost studied in the same class with the Driver’s father: we should sit and have a drink sometime, have a nice trip, guys. It would be better if he arrested them, but then there would be no film.