A sweet movie about a country boy whose life was turned around by seeing Miles David land on the tarmac when he was a kid, causing him to dream of being a top jazz trumpter.
That's the sort of film you could imagine, say, George Wallace being in - a little battler makes good. But they cast Colin Friels, who is very handsome, with his movie star hair. They also give him a wife and kids - the wife's a bit of a nag but is pretty and smart (Helen Buday)... why give him a wife? Rocky didn't have a wife, he didn't have a girlfriend, he was a complete down and out. Not only does he have a wife, they have stylish sex involving toe kissing on white sheets. Rocky doesn't do that! Also they give him kids. Why? The kids have no personalities by the way.
Friels feels "city" - like he's a city boy playing at been a country boy. His acting is fine by the way - it's a well acted movie - he's just miscast.
There's a boring subplot about their childhood friend coming back to town (he lives in a yacht) and he wants Buday back. What's the point of that plot? To have some suspense at the end when we think Buday might have left?
The movie has no feeling for small town Australia. There's yobbo locals who play a cruel joke on Friels... I guess that feels real. But also in these small towns people would be proud of their eccentric trumpet playing handyman.
This film needed to star someone like Paul Chubb or Max Gillies or even Colin Friels but playing a down and out. .They needed to watch Rocky more and have more of a feel for country life. This feels like a movie made by city people. I mean, he just gets on a plane and flies to France. How about giving him an obstacle? Getting him to have to raise money or something?
The film gets points for the novelty of its concept, the music and Miles Davis. It's extremely pretty and the finale where Friels plays with Miles Davis is incredibly satisfying.
There is a great crowdpleasing classic inside this movie struggling to get out but I think it had the wrong director (rolf de Heer) and wrong star.
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