Till Human Voices Wake Us (Rental)

Those who had the misfortune of sitting through the misfired (and undoubtedly studio-interfered-with) Queen of the Damned might have seen Michael Petroni’s name as part of the screenplay credit and attached him to that film forevermore. That would, though, have been something of a mistake; sure, Petroni contributed to Queen of the Damned (though how much of his script remains in the released version is unknown), but you can’t blame a guy for wanting to make a buck. The true measure of this writer’s skill is, as always, in the low-budget independent film that gets to be itself, free of committee decision, and Till Human Voices Wake Us - which also marks Petroni’s feature directing debut - is precisely that, at least in Australia (more about that shortly).

A quiet (extremely quiet) and meditative film about loss and regret, the film is split into two sections. In the first we meet Sam (Lindley Joyner), a thoughtful young man living in the quiet Victorian country town of Genoa, right on the Victoria/NSW border near the now-popular holiday town of Mallacoota. There’s not much to do there; Sam’s dad passes the time studying and drawing insects, and Sam is free to roam the town with his close friend Silvy (Brooke Harman), musing on whatever comes to mind and very much falling in love with each other. But an unexpected tragedy changes Sam’s life forever, and when we meet him again he’s an emotionless, efficient adult (played by Guy Pearce) working in Melbourne as a psychologist. When Sam is called home to Genoa for his father’s funeral, he runs across Ruby (Helena Bonham-Carter), a mysterious woman whose past and identity have been lost to amnesia following a suicide attempt. In trying to help Ruby, Sam gets to know her, and in the process can try and come to terms with his own past.

The above plot description might have this film sounding like a soapish character drama, but the film Petroni has crafted is anything but. Quite aside from the subtle surprises and metaphysical content of the story, there’s an all-pervasive dream-like quality to the entire film - it’s very much a visual poem (appropriate, since the title was borrowed from a poem by T.S. Eliot) and is exquisitely crafted down to the finest detail. That itself is an amazing achievement for a low-budget film, but it shows how much can be done with so little. The four lead actors are uniformly excellent (and yes, Bonham-Carter’s Australian accent is convincing!) and genuinely bring the story and characters to life. The sound design is critical throughout - a more finely detailed and subtle audio track you’ll rarely hear - and the music score, by Dale Cornelius (played by a quartet including two members of My Friend the Chocolate Cake) is spot-on perfect.

Till Human Voices was just released in the US, where it’s distributed by Paramount and has been getting fairly tepid reviews. What US audiences are seeing, though, is a very, very different film to what was seen in Australian cinemas and on this DVD. The film was extensively reworked for the US market, turning the Sam and Sylvie material that makes up the first 35 minutes of the Australian version into “flashback� material, introducing the “star� leads much earlier and attempting, believe it or not, to play the film as a mystery-thriller. It’s hard to imagine it working that way; Australian DVD buyers will have the chance to find out for themselves later this year when the retail version arrives, a two-disc set that will include both versions of the film.

Shot at a 2.35:1 aspect ratio, and presented that way on this DVD (ignore the back-cover typo that has the film at 1.85:1), this transfer of the film is, surprisingly, not in 16:9 format. Considering the fact that the video transfer would have been done in the last couple of years, this is unusual to say the least; it’s rare to find a telecine facility in this country that doesn’t support 16:9 these days. However, within the limitations of the 4:3 frame this transfer represents the film admirably well, showing off the warm colours and crisp detail nicely. A bit too much digital sharpening has been applied, though, and that becomes a problem on scenes crowded with detail. Black levels are quite clearly as intended by the cinematographer, who appears to have pushed the capabilities of the film stock for some of the night shots, resulting in some grain and some washed-out palettes on occasion. But there’s plenty of true black here as well.

We have no information on whether the retail release will include 16:9 transfers; we certainly hope so.

The layer change is positioned awkwardly, cutting off the music score mid-note; hopefully it’ll be moved somewhere more suitable on the retail release.

Two audio tracks are provided here: the Dolby Digital 5.1 soundtrack heard in cinemas, and a matrixed surround mix done for home video. The latter appears to be mastered much louder (more likely it’s been heavily compressed dynamically), but don’t be fooled by the quiet demeanour of the 5.1 track, it’s meant to be that way. Just be sure to play this one in a super-quiet environment, and then listen to all the fine detail in this wonderful sound mix. The five main channels are all used intelligently and unpretentiously, with the LFE springing into life only on the rarest of occasions. A truly immersive, almost hypnotic soundtrack that decisively reminds you how 5.1 film sound was supposed to be about creating realism, not hammering the audience with gee-whiz effects.

The real extras-fest will come with the retail version, so it’s nice to have anything offered on this rental disc at all, let alone an actual commentary! As always with Madman-authored discs, this one’s encoded with DVD Text and features a nicely-designed encoded jacket picture for players that support those features. The animated main menu is also typically stylish.

Commentary: Director Petroni, initially sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else but here then quickly warming to the process, is joined by cinematographer Roger Lancer and producer Dean Murphy for an informative commentary that will particularly please those interested in the technical filmmaking process. Lanser offers some detail about things such as his choice of film stock, while Murphy is friendly and informative (not surprising - he’s a film director himself, and he and Lanser acquitted themselves well on the DVD commentary for the terrific but little-seen Melbourne film Muggers). Petroni’s thought process with the film becomes a bit clearer as the commentary goes on. A very worthwhile listen.

Trailer: The Australian theatrical trailer, letterboxed at 2.35:1 and once again not anamorphic. Audio is two-channel matrix surround.

Soundtrack: A still-frame ad for the soundtrack.

Cast and Crew Biographies: 12 text bios for cast and crew - more than is usually included in this kind of section.

Madman Propaganda: The usual collection of trailers for other Madman DVD product, this time encompassing Atanarjuat, Molokai, Rain, Nine Queens, The Tracker and Walking On Water.

Ultimately, this is not a story about two people, despite many having read it as a kind of romance. It’s about one person - Sam - and his journey, a fact that’s clear by the end. It’s not for everybody, but those looking for something quiet, gentle and genuinely original will relish the time they spend with this film. American readers disillusioned with the version they saw in the cinema there might want to give this original version a try, too.

Madman’s rental DVD offers decent (but not perfect) picture and superb 5.1 sound, along with the added bonus of an interesting commentary track. The double-disc retail version should be a treat.