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I found it hard to like anyone in this film. The central characters, Lindy and Michael Chamberlain, whose daughter disappears during a night out in the Australian outback, are not bad people, but then surely not all, or even most, of the scores of people we see throughout this movie would be bad if we knew them better. But though we are as sure as the film wants us to be of the guilt or innocence of the Chamberlains from the start of their life's tragic disarray, the film takes on a more or less sociological perspective pertaining to gossip, news media, crowds, mobs and assumptions. It's not a movie about the degenerate society of Australia in particular; it's merely an account of a true story that happened there. Society en masse is much less evolved than the individual feels ensured that we are.
When a warden insists upon killing all of an aborigine's dogs because of the unverified action of a single wild dog, when a randomly ruined life spins even further out of control owing to the majority of magazines, newspapers and TV programs distorts the tragic truth to a level of drama that provokes its consumers into a frenzy, there is no sign of empathy or even any kind of looking outside of one's own unaware perceptions, influenced left and right by the vigorous hearsay and vibes of those who surround one's life. The reason I appreciate the film is because it turns the focus inside out, from the victims to the masses.
The evidence against Lindy Chamberlain aside, suspicion was jet-fueled mostly by a virtue of hers. To the public eye, she did not seem sufficiently distraught by the death of her baby daughter. Why was she able to keep her cool, even a sort of aloofness let alone holding her head up, for TV and the press? How much of the downward spiral could've been prevented had she behaved more to the public's liking in the media? Meryl Streep, one of, if not the, greatest actress working today, may not give a performance that particularly stands out, and frankly neither does any other actor, or department of film-making. But she, and the screenwriters, do understand Lindy. What is infuriating is that it's not that difficult. Apparently, she was not naturally prone to showing emotion in public in any case. Whether or not she is approachable as a lovable character in the immediate sense, we are naturally prone to sympathize with her situation.
Whether or not her performance is as immediately gratifying as Sophie's Choice, The Devil Wears Prada, Angels In America or other such work, it is a triumph. It is difficult enrapture an audience when you purposely deny them insights into yourself. She frustrates us because we don't know what she's thinking or feeling. It took me awhile to feel endeared toward her, but this is the movie's way of suggesting the reaction of the public's attention.
She is married to a pastor, and they both practice a religion that is in a small minority and thus misinterpreted by most. Initially, they react to their loss as if to be reconciling themselves to God's will, kick-starting a rumor mill generating the notion that their daughter's death was some sort of ritual killing on their part. Whatever happened to the little girl, her parents were part of a margin with whom most of the media's intake didn't immediately identify, so the first inclination was to go after them like a pack of hungry...well...
Meryl Streep and Sam Neill are constantly on screen, but the Australian public plays the real leads here. Like punctuation for each plot advance, director Fred Schepisi cuts away from restaurant to tennis court to dinner party to saloon to office, where the public tries Lindy and gets carried away into their own passionate projections.
This Golan-Globus docudrama is not particularly memorable. The setting's atmosphere doesn't give a pleasurable enough compensation for the fact that no performance or facet of production stands out. But it is very successful as an indictment of the collective conscious of the public.


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