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Civilization and progress has its own flotsam-jetsam buried away and forgotten like old Ghost Towns. Hollow mines, empty wells, overgrown graveyards, hotels with broken windows, a junkyard carnival gathering rust and time ending up as faded black and white curios that grace the archives. Or they are woven into the ballad of a weary traveler. Original soldiers of fortune caught in a time of hope and upheaval, who traveled afar in search of opportunity only to be disillusioned, not just by the alien land but by fellow men. It is not the body alone that hangs weary but the spirit of man. Naïve adventurous souls battered by savagery and those that survive the battering emerge not just as abominations of humankind but ironically, the pioneers of progress and civilization.

A movie rife with dilemma and conflict, the Australian outback western ‘The Proposition’ begins with a statutory warning to the indigenous aboriginals that the film contains images of graphic violence against aboriginals. It may seem extraneous as the movie is set in days when the white man was set to ‘cleanse/civilize’ the land with single minded purpose. It is known piece of bleak history so why the effort? Watching the movie however one realizes that maybe it is an acknowledgement that some wounds still linger.

Opening credits fade to a gospel tune sung by a child accompanied by black and white archived photographs of everyday life in those times of white men standing with their anglicized servants to everyday brutalities of imprisonment and murder. The movie opens in the middle of a bloody showdown with bullets coming in through the wood inside a whorehouse. Pretty soon it’s clear we’re on the wrong side of the shootout and the only survivors, the outlaw brothers ‘Burns’, are cuffed in iron and seated across a ruffian of a man, their captor Captain Stanley discussing the titular ‘Proposition’. His deal to elder brother Charlie Burns made over baby faced younger Mikey’s broken bleeding nose, is that he’ll be given a horse, a gun and nine days till Christmas to ride into the godforsaken lands to kill the third brother Burns, by far the most nefarious of them all, Arthur in lieu of which freedom will be granted to both. But should he fail in his part of the proposition, young Mikey would be lead to the noose.

It is no mean task and Arthur is no mean bandit. Not only is he psychotically homicidal, he is a near myth. Living on a distant cliff in a barren no man’s land and coming down only to pillage, even the indigenous natives have started to fear and revere him. He has become a legend in their cosmos, ‘the dog’- a man who can turn into, if he so wills, a dog. And Charlie has his own reservations about Arthur and some years ago for the sake of Mikey’s well-being had broken away from the gang after a brutal episode of the murder and rape of a pregnant woman and her family. This leaves the stage set for Charlie to test his bonds of blood with gun a-blazing. But post setting up this volatile fraternal conflict, the movie takes a surprising turn.

The first encounter with Captain Stanley as he declares ‘Clearly I am what I want to be’ when Charlie reminds him that he is neither judge nor jury, places him square among the long line of western villains who are an arm of the law. Ruthless and capable of just as much violence as their adversaries only in uniform with an official sanction that makes them far more dangerous than the bandits. ‘I will civilize this land’ he declares with authority as he looks over the ‘fresh hell’ that is Australia. But as his wife visits him at the police station we see him awkward and helpless as his own men leer over her. He doesn’t find his words till he orders his men out and then pleads, scared for her own sake, to never visit his workplace ever again. He understands the toll it takes to witness the savagery of man. That not only causes him to shield his wife from the ugly realities but also to conceal the identity of young Mikey from the rest of town including his wife, all who are seeking retribution in blood for the rape and murder of the pregnant woman. In his choices he alienates himself from his wife, his men and his town. In this strange western, for all his familiarity, he is the proverbial lone stranger. The dirty cop of the opening sequence turns into an unlikely emotional centre for the film and emerges as the character deepest in conflict- between duty, love and humanity.

Meanwhile, Charlie riding towards his brother only finds his own emotional quandaries exacerbated when he is ambushed by natives and almost speared to death only to be rescued by Arthur. Nursed back to health by his brother’s eclectic and wild brigand, the Burns’ bond over lighter moments. And the one thing that neither Charlie nor us cannot deny, is for all his vileness, Arthur has all the cool charisma of an enfant terrible poet. And there are hardly any days to Christmas.

The proposition turns from a matter of choice to a question of destiny. The proceedings acquire the stuff of tragedy, on an epic scale. As protagonists are invariably hurtled towards bloodshed it is time that is the antagonist. Time as the present where the tragedy will play itself out. And time as the intractable past that has lead to it. Was there ever a choice?

With ‘The Proposition’ Director John Hillcoat and Writer-Music Composer Nick Cave, who have previously collaborated on one film and several music videos for Cave, have crafted a classic action-westerner in a Peckinpah existential mode. What could have been a one note high concept vehicle of ‘setting a western in the Australian outback’ they turn into a subversive folk epic of a country being ‘civilized’. It is sensitive material in their hands and despite all the blood and adrenalin; it is a film of subtleties. Nick Cave’s script is a complex marvel, epic in structure, layered with emotion and conflict, courageous in its interpretation of history and the best dialogue to chew upon in a long time. Together with his ethereal music score mixing the traditional, the mythic and the gospel with cosmic undertones, there are moments of great illumination when under the same moon and sky the characters seem to call on each other while far away.

Doing absolute justice to the script is the acting ensemble lead by Ray Winstone in a milestone performance. Winstone, a natural born ruffian, in a career lined end-to-end with tough guys finally gets the chance to invest emotionally in his role as the conflicted Captain Stanley. From his brutal first act to his internalization of the breakdown and alienation, he brings heavy melancholy, world weariness and a touch of warm romance to the conflicted man. As his wife Martha, another departure from the bordello girls and femme fatales that are the stock-in-trade feminine content in westerns, the waif like Emily Watson essays the role with grace and brings moments of fragility in an otherwise feral movie. As Charlie Burns, Guy Pearce does what he does in his best (Memento, L.A. Confidential)- play it straight, cold and no-nonsense which in a strange way acquires depth and touches a chord. Never could figure it out how he does it though.

The scene stealer of the ensemble is Danny Huston as Arthur Burns. Mostly relegated to supporting turns, Huston bites into the role of the madman free spirit outlaw with relish. Not only does he cut a handsome mythic profile against the landscape, he performs with all the natural eccentricity of a cult guru. Young actor Tom Budge pulls of a reckless psychotic with verve as Arthur’s protégé Samuel Stoat while baby faced Richard Wilson is apt as the unfortunate Mikey. Providing classic thespian support is John Hurt who has a memorable turn as the drunken impresario Jellon Lamb, a man of learning who may or may not have been driven to bounty hunting by the winds of change. David Gulipilil, indigenous aboriginal actor, considered a national symbol in Australia has a cameo as the tracker Jacko while another indigenous performer Tom E. Lewis gives a sprightly turn as Two Bob, a member of Arthur’s brigand.

Cinematographer Benoit Delhomme trips out on the almost surreal landscape of the Australian outback. He conjures sweeping portraits of the characters imposed against the dust, heat and the strange shapes taken by the land.

The final scene is unforgettable. The tragedy has played itself. Against the mellow sunset, against the sky and the land, two figures squat. The vanquished says to the victor,
” You got me _______. What’re you going to do now?”

(image courtesy:- Love Film, Impawards, Eric D. Snider, Cg Society, Londonist, soundtrack by Radioblogclub)

(PS: for the want of seeing No Country for Old Men in the big screen i haven’t seen it yet. Ebert for one draws a comparison with Blood Meridan, another Cormac McCarthy work. Not Surprisingly Hillcoat’s next project is ‘The Road’. Add that and Viggo Mortenson and it’s pretty much a helluva lotta excitement for all)