Copyright thespinoff
Alex Casey reviews Pike River, out in cinemas nationwide this week. One of the many enduring scenes in Pike River sees Anna Osborne (Melanie Lynskey) holed up in Sonya Rockhouse’s (Robyn Malcolm) campervan during a torrential downpour after a long day in court. In the cosy cocoon, rain beating on the roof, Osborne shares how she fell for her late husband Milton when he showed up for their first date with little specks of tissue paper on his face. “I thought we’d get old together – unless I went first,” she says in the warm dim lamplight. Snuggled up at the other end of the bed in a blanket, Rockhouse smiles. “It’s a real love story,” she says. Following the fight for justice in the aftermath of the 2010 tragedy, which saw the death of 29 men including Sonya’s son Ben and Anna’s husband Milton, Pike River is a story of corporate failures, broken promises, and everyday people doing extraordinary things. It’s also a heartwarming love story, preserving the bonds between those lost and those left behind, and capturing the friendship between two women forced together by the unthinkable. “I would have given up a long time ago if it hadn’t been for you,” Rockhouse says, years into their battle. Directed by Robert Sarkies (Out of the Blue) and written by Fiona Samuel (Consent: The Louise Nicholas Story), Pike River makes the deft choice not to get into any gratuitous recreations of the disaster itself, keeping the audience as in-the-dark as the main characters while they scramble for information from radio reports, TV news and other locals in the days following. The feelings of chaos, hope and confusion are such that when the worst is confirmed – “all the men are dead” – the grief comes like a tidal wave as swirling wails fill the dingy West Coast hall. That’s another one of those scenes that you won’t be able to shake after viewing Pike River, as the whole room moves in a slow motion howl and people collapse into each other’s arms. The film is rife with images that immediately sear themselves into your memory, be it the 29 wooden men lined up along either side of the Pike River entrance, or the same number of bobbing headlights piercing through the darkness. Other times, it’s the smallest of aching everyday details that sticks, like the Lighting Plus ad playing softly in the background while Rockhouse sobs in her kitchen. You will not be surprised by how many times Pike River makes you cry, or how many times it makes you feel enraged, but you might be surprised at how many times it makes you laugh. Most treasured friendships don’t tend to start with someone yelling “who the fuck are you?!” across a table, but then most people aren’t Anna Osborne and Sonya Rockhouse. Lynksey’s Osborne is bolshy and brusque, whereas Malcolm’s Rockhouse is guarded and twitchy. Their walls come down slowly over shared bags of lollies in court, and cackling over “fart tennis” during a cup of tea. It’s also unsurprising that Lynskey and Malcolm give career-best performances that feel as lived in as their pilled waterfall cardigans, scuffed slouchy boots and chequered wool blankets. These are two nurturing yet gnarly women, who are just as likely to give a foot rub to the elderly as they are to tell a CEO to fuck off. To watch Malcolm in particular grow from being a shirking wallflower, afraid of looking like a “stroppy bitch with her hands out”, to a stone-faced spokesperson eyeballing the barrel of a news camera, is nothing short of triumphant. The film spans several years of their journey through courtrooms, inquiries and occupations as they advocate to change laws, stop the sealing of the mine, and get answers about what happened to their men. They are flanked by a supporting cast including Lucy Lawless as “unionist shit-stirrer” Helen Kelly, Jordan Mooney as dogged documentary-maker Tony Sutorius, and even Jacinda Ardern as herself (an odd creative choice which admittedly snapped me right out of the world of the film, but was apparently met with applause at the Auckland premiere). With so many peripheral characters who all have their part to play in this devastating and ultimately unresolved chapter in New Zealand’s recent history, a two-hour film can’t possibly answer all the questions. Those who know the story of Pike River will know that there is no happy ending to be found here, and the final title cards at the end of the film work very hard to bring the audience up to speed on everything that happened – and also what didn’t happen – next. You’ll be left Googling and discussing Pike River long after the credits roll, which is likely the whole point. Even if this complex story could never lend itself to a tidy Hollywood conclusion, Pike River is essential viewing for all New Zealanders. It’s an ode to the tight-knit West Coast community who still live with the tragedy every day. It’s a reminder of the humanity of the 29 men who never came home from work, and the tenacity of those left fighting in their memory. Above all else, it’s an intimate and complex portrait of two women who refused to just “sit at home knitting, waiting for the phone to ring” and chose to take action instead. To quote Osborne herself, fuckin’ A to that. Pike River is in cinemas nationwide from Thursday October 30.
