Is there something weird in the water in Australia? Or maybe the air is different down there. All I know is that that culture has produced some of the quirkiest and most unusual films of any country beginning in the seventies with such movies as Peter Weir’s The Cars That Eat People (aka The Cars that Ate Paris, 1974), Stone (1974), and Thirst (1979), to mention just a few, and continuing through the ensuing decades with such cult items as Jane Campion’s Sweetie (1989) and Rolf de Heer’s Bad Boy Bubby (1993) to their credit. More surprising is that a few have gone on to become boxoffice hits in the U.S. such as Baz Luhrmann’s Strictly Ballroom (1992), Muriel’s Wedding (1994), and The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994). But one of my favorites – LOVE SERENADE (1996) – which I recently revisited, didn’t strike boxoffice gold like the above three titles though it’s a strikingly original black comedy for those who fancy that often unappreciated mixture of the macabre and the comical which is so rarely well done.       

Distributed by Miramax Films, LOVE SERENADE was marketed as a romantic comedy as evidenced by this bland and misleading DVD cover, showing a supremely confident, elegant Miranda Otto looking completely different from the awkward,  socially inept creature she plays in the film. Particularly inappropriate is the cover’s tagline – “The Sexy Comedy That Proves…Love Is A Very Competitive Sport!” If anything, LOVE SERENADE is anti-erotic and features possibly the most unsexy seduction scene of all time as Otto’s character undresses self-consciously before an impassive seducer with a giant stuffed marlin as a backdrop and almost topples over trying to get her pantyhose off.  Oh well, I guess the marketers figured this cover would sell the film to potential renters wanting a Meg Ryan/Sandra Bullock/Jennifer Aniston-type chick flick. Boy, would they get a surprise.    

Directed by Shirley Barrett (making her feature film debut), LOVE SERENADE had a brief run on the U.S. art film circuit in 1997 after winning the Camera d’Or at the 1996 Cannes Film Festival and then quickly vanished from sight despite rave reviews from several major critics.

 The movie is set in a sun-baked, desolate small town in the Australian boondocks called Sunray (a stand-in for the real town of Robinvale in Northwest Victoria) that doesn’t show many signs of life apart from a few struggling businesses. Things perk up a bit with the arrival of a once-famous D.J. from Brisbane, Ken Sherry (George Shevtsov),  who begins broadcasting from the local radio station that is basically a run-down hut with no modern equipment; all the music is on vinyl and most of it is American pop from earlier years, with a heavy playlist of Barry White hits and such familiar tunes as Van McCoy’s “The Hustle,” Billy Paul’s “Me and Mrs. Jones” and Gwen McCrae’s “Rocking Chair.” Sherry’s arrival is greeted with  barely contained excitement by two sisters, Vicki-Ann (Rebecca Frith), a hairdresser, and Dimity (Miranda Otto), a waitress, who are bewitched and intrigued by his enigmatic demeanor and smooth, hypnotic voice.  

Not only does Sherry’s presence unleash untold romantic fantasies in both women but it also creates tension and competition between them as they both connive to make Sherry their own. And what a prize he is! Homely in appearance with a hangdog face and a bored-with-the-world demeanor, he practices Tai Chi and favors hanging around in his bathroom robe and slippers while dispensing Zen-like nuggets to his admirers. Director Barrett described Sherry as “a kind of composite of every ‘Mr. Wrong,’ and he is the epitome of the boorish male. Yet, Vicki-Ann and Dimity are so bored and starved for romance that Sherry is like some rare breed of exotic fish that ignites their imaginations, suggesting there is life beyond Sunray.  

A strange sort of mating dance ensues as Sherry toys with the sisters and we get a glimpse of a claustrophobic backwater town stuck in time where nothing seems quite right. For instance, at the town’s sole Chinese restaurant, the proprietor/chief  (played by John Alansu), who always takes issue with Sherry’s menu selections, unexpectedly breaks into a heartfelt rendition of Glen Campbell’s “Wichita Lineman” at one point. While such a moment could fall horribly flat in the hands of a lesser director, Barrett manages to blend such fanciful conceits and odd behavior into a perfectly realized but stylized universe where anything can happen and does as you’ll see in the second half when Dimity begins to notice that Sherry is mutating into a fish. Yes, you read that right.

Despite the often hilarious arguments and confrontations between the two sisters and the increasingingly bizarre developments with Sherry, there is a dark, underlying tone in the film that gives way to complete fantasy in the final moments. You can see why the film wouldn’t – and didn’t – play well at the local cineplex upon release where audiences like their romantic comedies and the happy fadeout much tidier than this.    

 Regardless of its lack of broad audience appeal, LOVE SERENADE is brimming with imagination and oddball humor and Barrett’s use of Barry White’s music and other pop hits of the 70s as an extention of Sherry’s lounge lizard persona is inspired. At one point Sherry even quotes from Charlie Rich’s sexual ballad “Behind Closed Doors” as if it were poetry (which, of course, it is) and “The Desiderata”, a popular but much parodied inspirational prose  poem, gets some airwave time. In an interview, Barrett referred to White’s famous ballad (thus the title of the film) as the “creepiest seduction song” ever and there is something undeniably mesmerizing about the combination of the lush orchestration and White’s deep, commanding voice, admonishing his lover with the line, “I don’t wanna see no panties.”  For those of you who don’t know the lyrics here is the opening salvo:

 “Take it off
Baby, take it all off
I wanna see you the way you came into the world
I dont wanna feel no clothes
I dont wanna see no panties
And take off that brassiere, my dear
Everybody’s gone
I’m taking the receiver off the phone
Because baby you and me…
This night….
We’re gonna get it on
To love serenade….”

The cast of LOVE SERENADE is uniformly excellent – Otto, Frith and Shevtsov were all well known stage actors in Sydney at the time – and most of the crew were women from cinematographer Mandy Walker to film editor Denise Haratzis to executive producer Jan Chapman (The Last Days of Chez Nous, The Piano, Holy Smoke). Frith’s performance as Vicki-Ann may seem like an overbearing caricarture on first impression but watch how she changes emotional gears as her character plunges into uncharted territory with Sherry.  

While some critics have made claims for the film being a feminist revenge fantasy, it’s much harder to pigeonhole than that since Vicki-Ann and Dimity initially come across as dim, petty and downright pathetic at times; they’re not exactly role models for anyone but more likely examples of how isolated towns in the Outback condition women to behave and think in such socially restrictive ways. Vicki-Ann thinks the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach while Dimity is willing to be molded like sculptor’s clay. Yet, like Shelley Duvall’s “Millie” character in Robert Altman’s 3 Women (1977), the two women grow in the course of the film from silly, superficial people into sympathetic, endearingly odd human characters who become closer as sisters in the process. I also think LOVE SERENADE has the perfect ending, even if it could be considered misandry (the opposite of misogyny), but what’s wrong with that after hundreds of films where women are the victims? Serve it up with wit, style and imagination and you can get away with almost anything.    

Barrett followed LOVE SERENADE with WALK THE TALK in 2000 which had no impact here at all. It didn’t even receive a theatrical release in the U.S. but in Australia it received even better reviews from the critics than Barrett’s first feature; Andrew L. Urban wrote “Walk the Talk is a brilliant film, at once funny and poignant – this year’s Muriel’s Wedding.” Louise Keller said “Wonderfully offbeat with an acute sense of the ridiculous. Walk the Talk is the most enjoyable and accessible Australian film I’ve seen this year, and one whose magic will surely spread.” And finally Richard Kuipers stated “In her 1995 debut, LOVE SERENADE, writer/director Shirley Barrett displayed a striking feel for comedy and the pathos in her characters. Walk the Talk has similar strengths and a more rewarding story that makes this a more satisfying and entertaining outing.”      

The plot of WALK THE TALK focuses on an ex-con who reinvents himself, following the advice of self-help gurus, as a talent agent. First, he becomes romantically involved with a paraplegic woman he meets at a revivalist church but later he becomes obsessed with managing a-down-on-her-luck nightclub singer, financing it all with government compensation checks from the crippled girlfriend. Despite the downbeat description, I suspect that Barrett’s take on this will be just as unpredictable and winning as her debut film and plan to check it out at my first opportunity.