Our exploration of the films of Peter Weir lands on his most celebrated Australian film, with one of cinema’s most notorious endings.
What do you do when the world doesn’t supply easy answers? What if the world was far crueler than we like to imagine? And what is the effect on communities regarding uncertainty? These are the questions that lie at the heart of what is considered the height of Peter Weir’s Australian New Wave films, 1975’s Picnic at Hanging Rock.
An adaptation of a popular 1967 novel by Joan Lindsey, Picnic at Hanging Rock marks a lot of firsts for Weir’s career. It is his first adaptation, one that carried a lot of anticipation and expectation. It is also his first period film, set at the dawn of the 20th century which has only become more removed in time from its original release. It is also his first film that can be argued to have almost no comedic elements to it; both Homesdale and The Cars That Ate Paris are dark but funny explorations of class and Australian identity, that rely on a playful absurdity to drive their more focused points. For all of its positive qualities, Picnic at Hanging Rock is devoid of much of a sense of humor, especially after the inciting incident and the follow through.
That isn’t to suggest it isn’t entertaining; however, it is a radical shift in tone and filmmaking style for Weir, who used the Australian countryside to good effect in Paris, but it becomes a central conceit here. In fact th first act of the movie mostly plays out like a dream, of girls in flowing white wandering through Australian brush, staring up in marvel at the wonder of the natural world. Overtime the tone turns just as nightmarish as Paris, but the initial impression for Picnic at Hanging Rock is idyllic and calm, bolstered by a haunting Gheorghe Zamfir pan flute score.
Of course things don’t stay there, and the disruption of that peace is at the heart of what Weir is doing with this film. The idea of a single indescribable event beyond comprehension, beyond description unravels the quiet serenity, in ripples that swiftly grow. The menace of an unsolvable mystery weighs down all who know about it.
Set at the turn of the 20th century (which also feels relevant to the sense of uneasiness,) the film centers on the students at an all girls boarding school, the Appleyard College. The film opens with the girls going for a Valentine’s Day picnic at the real location of Hanging Rock, a former volcanic formation which has become something of a towering, majestic landmark. Even before setting off on their journey, the girls seem something in a trance, reciting pottery to each other, tying each other’s corsets and wisping around in nearly identical white gowns.
Once they arrive at Hanging Rock however, the spell fully takes over. After their picnic is done, a handful of girls wander off to go explore the rock, while everyone else falls into a deep sleep. This is the section of the film that feels most dreamlike, an aimless wandering through the brush that leads to an exploration of the rocks themselves. This is when the Zamfir score really hits its zenith.
But then horror strikes. One of the girls on the journey watches as the three others wander up the rock formation, and an unseen evil causes her to scream and flee. We find then the chaperone on the trip has also disappeared. The weight of these four missing persons sets the stage for the rest of the film.
The weight being of course people needing to figure out what happened. Where did the girls go? Are they still alive? Will it happen again? The uncertainty inevitably drives people mad, especially as half answers start to appear. The full scale of what occurred though remain elusive, which only escalates the tension higher and higher. The final moments of the film intentionally alienate the audience, telling them that just like the characters in the film, if they are seeking answers, they will leave disappointed.
There is a lot of thematic weight going on in Picnic at Hanging Rock. There are aspect of unfulfilled psychosexual pining, and a sense that the Australian landscape isn’t meant for such pristine human habitation. There is a creeping sense of dread that underpins everything that occurs. But the central theme is the horror of uncertainty, that when circumstances demand answers and there are none, it can unravel any sense of claimed civilization.
There is a sister film in this regard. While watching, I couldn’t help but be reminded of David Fincher’s Zodiac. Similarly to Picnic at Hanging Rock, Zodiac is less about the incident that bears its name as it is about the aftermath and the effect the events have on those who are affected. Both films are about people attempting to put together pieces of an unknowable truth, longing for conclusion when life offers none. And both films refuse to tie things up easily. Rather they dig down into the rabbit hole, giving some sense of possible conclusion, but never certainty.
One of the great comforts of films, and most narrative in general, is that sense of closure. A movie ends, and in the case of the most finely crafted ones, a sense of all the plots giving way to some sense of clarity. In the case of Picnic at Hanging Rock, it has the structure and shape of a horror-mystery, a genre specifically that promises some sort of revelation. Yet no clarity is provided, no sense of safety or finality. Instead we are left with only questions and destruction. Because often times life is not as neat and tidy as the movies would want us to believe.
Next Week: Weir digs deep under the skin of the very nature of white Australian identity in The Last Wave.
