In Arnhem Land, before Western influence, ten Aboriginal men work together as hunters. Young Dayindi (Jamie Gulpilil, whose father David narrates the movie) is told a story about another young man from even further back in history who coveted one of his sisters-in-law and eventually killed a member of another tried, for which he faced grave penalties. This tale resonates with Dayindi because it echoes his own situation.
Ten Canoes won the 2006 AFI Award for Best Film, and its intentions as the first movie entirely in indigenous Australian language are admirable. Plus, it did initially captivate me as a study of pre-European settlement life among Australia's First Nations peoples. But then, as it consciously goes out of its way to assert its arthouse intentions, for me it proved Rolf de Heer's status as arguably the most pretentious filmmaker in Australia. He co-directed it, to his credit, with the indigenous Peter Djigirr, but Djigirr's instincts to me didn't seem to have prevailed over de Heer's as perhaps they should have. There's lush natural photography and engaging non-professional performances here, but neither of those can counter de Heer's insistence on telling this narrative as alternatively as possible, and the lack of a score doesn't help.
De Heer obviously cared about this story of the first Australians; otherwise he wouldn't have made it. But I came away from it genuinely thinking Warwick Thornton or Rachel Perkins, two acclaimed Aboriginal filmmakers, would have made it into a far more accessible, insightful and moving film. 6/10.
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