Critical popcorn

Watching Hunt for the Wilderpeople today, it’s impossible not to think of Sam Neill, who sadly passed away last month. Neill was obviously most identified with Jurassic Park, but his role as the irascible “Crocodile Dundee fella” in Taika Waititi’s fourth feature now feels like one of the defining roles of the final act of his career, which makes this ten-year anniversary rerelease from Vertigo unexpectedly poignant.

The reissue also arrives at an interesting point in the director’s career as before Hollywood and Marvel, Waititi had established himself as one of the most distinctive comic voices in world cinema through Eagle vs Shark, Boy and What We Do in the Shadows. Hunt for the Wilderpeople feels like the culmination of that run: a film that perfectly balances his absurdist humour with genuine emotional weight. It’s also probably the last time he made a universally beloved film, before he went down the “one for them, one for me” route – I loved JoJo Rabbit, but I think it’s fair to say that feeling may not be universal – The quirky humour is still there, but it’s grounded by genuine emotional observation rather than constantly competing for attention.

Ricky Baker (Julian Dennison) is a troubled foster child sent to live with the warm-hearted Bella (Rima Te Wiata) and her unwilling husband Hector (Neill) on an isolated New Zealand farm. Initially desperate to leave, Bella’s irrepressible optimism and kind nature, as well as the couple’s frontier lifestyle, gradually begin to win Ricky over, before Bella tragically dies of a stroke. Facing the prospect of being returned to state care, Ricky absconds into the bush. When Hec tries to bring him back but injures himself, the pair become stranded together, unwittingly becoming the object of a manhunt, after authorities conclude that Hec has kidnapped Ricky.

What follows is part-road movie, survival adventure and odd-couple comedy, but what distinguishes it from countless similar stories is Waititi’s surprisingly assured direction, demonstrating a maturity and a sensitivity that he’s not really utilized since. Watching it now, it’s easy to see why he was once considered New Zealand’s answer to Wes Anderson – the two directors have a very similar grasp of the melancholy and the absurd, and Taika’s editing is very similar, albeit a bit more grounded in reality.

Waititi also makes magnificent use of the New Zealand wilderness; the sequence set to Leonard Cohen‘s The Partisan is a wonderfully evocative series of images, and the way he balances the jokes with the pathos is incredibly deft. He never telegraphs the jokes, or plays solemn music while something dramatic is happening. Similarly, he seems to have an instinctive understanding of exactly when to undercut sentiment before it becomes cloying.

It’s a beautifully observed film, with many hilarious moments rising organically from the characters and the story. One of the funniest scenes comes when Ricky attempts to convince authorities that Hec isn’t abusing him, only to unwittingly implicate him further with every word that comes out of his mouth, with Hec looking on in disbelief. At the same time, Waititi proves himself an unexpectedly accomplished action director. The wild boar hunt is genuinely suspenseful, while the climactic Mad Max-style car chase delivers real excitement without ever abandoning the film’s comic sensibility.

It goes without saying that Neill is incredible. Playing another character who decidedly does not like children, his Hector is much rougher and more irascible than Alan Grant, and yet the way he softens towards Ricky is wholesome and poignant, without ever becoming saccharine. It’s a restrained performance, built almost entirely from tiny shifts in expression and body language. His final scene with his pet dog, Zag, could be milked for all it’s worth in the hands of another actor. Neill barely changes his expression, yet somehow says everything.

What’s refreshing about the script is that Neill takes a backseat in the early scenes, simply being a grumpy bystander to the burgeoning relationship between Ricky and Bella. Te Wiata is such an effusive, warm presence in the film, and her kindness and affection for Ricky so quickly established (the birthday song she writes for him is a highpoint), that her sudden death is a real loss. This is a bold structural decision. Bella disappears just as the audience has fallen in love with her, forcing us to grieve alongside Ricky.

This does however, lead to the grudging friendship between Ricky and Heck to develop. The relationship between the two is the film’s emotional heart, but it develops almost imperceptibly. Dennison is great, with a really funny old man energy, as he plods through the bush, looking hilariously out-of-place in his cap and hoodie with his pet dog Tupac. Dennison manages to capture both Ricky’s swaggering confidence and the wide-eyed child hiding beneath it, which comes to the surface the moment Hec does anything vaguely cool.

Funny, poignant, refreshingly unsentimental, and surprisingly violent in places, Hunt for the Wilderpeople remains one of the most heartwarming, truly original, charming films of the 21st century. In the weeks since Neill’s death I’ve been watching so many of his great films, like Possession, The Piano, and In the Mouth of Madness, but this performance as Hec that got to me – it’s an understated but deeply humane performance, and and one that quietly reminds you just how irreplaceable Sam Neill was.

Hunt for the Wilderpeople returns to select cinemas on 7 August, and is available on 4K UHD, DVD and Blu-ray from 17 August, order here: amzn.dp/B0H45NPSNR