Film Review: THE DROVER’S WIFE: THE LEGEND OF MOLLY JOHNSON: An Australian Western Rife with Identity Struggles and Righteous Rage [SXSW 2021]

The Drover’s Wife: The Legend of Molly Johnson Review

The Drover’s Wife: The Legend of Molly Johnson (2021) Film Review from the 28th Annual South By Southwest Film Festival, a movie directed by and starring Leah Purcell, and also featuring Rob Collins, Sam Reid, Jessica De Gouw, Malachi Dower-Roberts, Tammy Macintosh, Benedict Hardie, Nicholas Hope, Harry Greenwood, Victoria Haralabidou, Sean Lynch, Luke Owen, Felicity Jurd, Craig Bourke, Anthony Cogin, and Ed Wightman.

Reckoning with one’s past to protect one’s future is a key to survival. In many cases, especially with regards to the West’s historical expansion, that means facing unsettling truths and determining how to cope with/atone for them. It’s a near-never-ending struggle … or at least it will be, until all has been reconciled.

Such struggles create the core of The Drover’s Wife: The Legend of Molly Johnson, actor-director Leah Purcell’s fine Australian western that wrestles with heritage, identity, and the personal struggle for independence.

In the Australian bush at the tail-end of the 19th century, Mrs. Molly Johnson (Leah Purcell) toils in the dust of her family’s small plot of land while her husband is out driving livestock. Despite being very pregnant and having four young children to look after, Molly manages with little hassle – as she effortlessly demonstrates in an opening scene by shooting down a wild bull with such tenacity. Her eldest son, Danny (Malachi Dower-Roberts), looks up to her in admiration of her endless strength.

But unbeknownst to Danny and his siblings, Molly is hiding a secret that causes a great deal of trepidation. It’s something that the gossipy townspeople of Everton and their newly-appointed sheriff (Sam Reid) are starting to catch wind of, and it’s something that could lead to Molly losing her children forever. To complicate things even further (besides the fact that she’ll have to deliver her baby by herself), an escaped Aboriginal convict named Yadaka (Rob Collins) suddenly appears on her property and pleads for sanctuary, all while harboring secrets of his own. Over the course of the remaining days, Molly, Danny, and Yadaka grow closer together, but uncover new revelations about each other that will forever change their lives.

Working off a screenplay based on her own theatrical adaptation of the Henry Lawson short story (which she originally staged in Sydney back in 2016), Purcell uses Lawson’s work and its woman-versus-nature conflict as a solid genre foundation. Through both Mark Wareham’s wide-angled, washed-out cinematography and editor Dany Cooper’s penchant for time lapses, Purcell captures both the grit of life in the Outback as well as its stark and vast beauty – not to mention an intimate dive into Molly’s psyche, which makes for an occasionally ethereal viewing experience. Of course, the cherry on top is the eclectic score, whose heavy guitar riffs gives off a sumptuous hint of its Spaghetti Western influences.

However, Purcell adds many a layer to The Drover’s Wife by turning it into both an examination of Australia’s racial politics and a treatise on domestic violence. Purcell (who herself is of Indigenous Australian descent) places Molly’s struggles squarely at the intersection of these issues, which in turn highlights not just the messiness of oppression but also how these forces are used in tandem to uphold white supremacist colonialism. Before Molly’s past is ever fully revealed and she’s put at odds with the bush’s white ruling class, she’s looked down upon by townspeople and travelers alike simply for being the combo of a woman and a poor farmer. Even her supposed allies, like the sheriff’s wife (Jessica De Gouw), aren’t always in her corner due to their privileged obliviousness (a dialectical jab at the first-wave feminism of the era).

Her entire existence is one of vulnerability, and Purcell does not shy away from the various graphic outcomes such a position affords her. Yet that doesn’t mean Molly ever gives up without a fight, as Purcell embodies her bushwoman farmer role with quiet glares, ferocious fury, and weary determination.

Unfortunately, despite its sharp themes and spiky depictions, The Drover’s Wife can’t help but occasionally languish in a formal rigidity. Purcell’s direction is daring and bold for the most part, which makes it all the more disappointing when she pumps the brakes. Perhaps it was a precautionary measure in lieu of reaching a wider audience, but it also makes the less-striking parts more noticeably so.

Regardless, The Drover’s Wife is still rich enough to satisfy genre fans and adventurous newcomers alike. Purcell proves that she’s a talented writer who can imbue her directorial work with the same thematic depth, making for impressive neo-western fare.

Rating: 7/10

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