The Last Wave

Upper middle-class tax barrister David Burton (Richard Chamberlain) is living a comfortable suburban existence in Sydney when suddenly the sky falls in. Literally. On a cloudless summer's day in the nearby desert, hailstones the size of brickbats fall on a schoolhouse, torrential rains strike Sydney in the middle of the dry season, and, shades of Magnolia, storm clouds filled with frogs drop their light green loads on Burton's lawn. Burton begins to suspect that these anomalies of nature are linked in some way to his defense of a group of aboriginal men, accused of murdering one of their own for violating tribal law. As the investigation continues, Burton himself is haunted by apocalyptic visions, only later to discover his own singular role in this world gone awry. Aussie filmmaker extraordinaire Peter Weir (Picnic at Hanging Rock) wrote and directed this AFI award-winning fave of mine, which Criterion has given a simply gorgeous mastering. Yes, this sadly frill-less '77 art-house hit is plagued by heavy-handed symbolism (alright, water, water everywhere!) and a curiously self-conscious performance by Chamberlain, but few filmmakers have ever woven such wrenching foreboding out of the simplest of dramatic threads. Add the extraordinary cinematography and bone-chilling soundtrack, and you've got a must-have for any respectable film collection. Highly recommended. (S. C. Sickles)