To liken this movie to Talk To Me, as I’ve noticed in certain publications, is like comparing apples with oranges. Talk To Me deserves the praise it received for the manner in which it delved into the pursuit of lost youth, grief and desperation with a particular bent that tapped into the popular zeitgeist. Birdeater is a far different entity and the comparisons purely rest on the creators all being from Australia. Now I’m going to champion the dark heart of the Australian horror genre but let’s not paint them with the same brush when accolades and praise should be placed where it deserves. Now does Birdeater deserve its own positive praise from the festival circuits, such as SXSW Austin, Melbourne International Film Festival and CinefestOz, plus receiving the Audience Award for Best Australian Narrative Feature at Sydney Film Festival? Happily, yes.

Directed by the duo of Jim Weir and Jack Clark, it attempts to place the toxic masculinity that resides beneath the surface of Australian society firmly under scrutiny as they slowly turn the screw with unsettling and shocking results.

I’ve lived in this land of this savage-yet-loveable land for over 20 years now and while the so-called motherland from which I originally hailed has its own fair share of troubles and tribulations, it struck me how the Australian nation had a deeply embedded masculine identity at its core and this is the vein that the filmmakers have tapped into, exposing the fevered flow that pulsates through us all, waiting to be exposed.

As the film opens we see what on face value appears to be the kindling of a romantic encounter between Louie (Mackenzie Fearnley) and Irene (Shabana Azeez), and various short scenes indicating a solidified bond, but as the time passes we see that the cracks are starting to show with Irene housebound, dependent on Louie’s partnership. But what is truly hindering her and how genuine is Louie’s heart? The feature allows us to unearth the truth over a  bucks night, where Louie strangely asks Irene to be a part of. Is this romantic or controlling?

Accompanying them are Louie’s two best mates, Dylan (Ben Hunter), the larrikin of the group but who also hides behind the facade of bravado and humour; and Charlie (Jack Bannister), a devout Christian with pent up sexual frustration, who also brings along his partner, Grace (Clementine Anderson). Grace’s role as far as the men are concerned, is to keep Irene company, but again the plans to control or dictate proceedings will fall sour before the night is through. Also, among the retreat is Murph (Alfie Gledhill) a somewhat isolated figure from the troupe, who blends in well with the male-orientated pursuits brandishing a false hope and a pre-arranged task to carry out. And lastly is Sam (Harley Wilson), a friend of Irenes and fuel to the fire of emotions as Louie questions their motives and faithfulness.

With the players set to play their identified roles, the night has just begun, and the real identities will spring forth to reveal darker and subdued emotional privilege simmering beneath the surface.

The Prognosis:

The subject matter could easily have been overplayed, but both Weir and Clark offer a slow hand to strengthen their cause and allow the characters to sink into the mire. The revelations of the motives set by the players of the piece is masterful and with every ounce of dedication and respect by the acting troupe who portray them. The light is shone firmly on this toxic masculinity without much reprieve or solution, but once the gaze is cast, it’s hard to turn away from the core message. For that Birdeater is a topical and relevant piece that deserves your time and energy. It is another fine Australian feature that lifts above the noise and resonates with its wings, beating out a very clear and precise observation of Australia and its current culture.

• Saul Muerte

Birdeater is currently screening at selective cinemas nationwide.