I wonder if "Hammers Over the Anvil" author Alan Marshall could conceive there would one day be a film version of his book that opened with a grinning pubescent version of himself watching a grown man with a Peter Pan complex frolic naked in the water with horses, intermittently straddling and splaying himself across their backs. On the other hand, it gives hope to actresses like Traci Lords that they might one day go on to achieve success in legitimate films, like Russell Crowe, despite this naked exposure, has done.
Seriously, I chose to rent this video because of Crowe's inclusion in the cast, and knew ahead of time there was some nudity, but jeesh! The opening scene was tame compared to the rest of the film. Have these Aussies not heard that less is more? How about some subtle lighting and shadow play? I may as well have been standing in a barnyard watching a bunch of rutting farm animals have at it. The grunting and groaning alone sufficed; the viewer didn't need to be hit over the head with the visuals.
The secondary plot of young Alan trying to overcome the challenge of his polio inflicted legs so he could one day mount a horse was lost. Instead, the muck masquerading as an adolescent's "coming of age" became the focus of this movie. A shame for a work by a classic author like Marshall.
Seriously, I chose to rent this video because of Crowe's inclusion in the cast, and knew ahead of time there was some nudity, but jeesh! The opening scene was tame compared to the rest of the film. Have these Aussies not heard that less is more? How about some subtle lighting and shadow play? I may as well have been standing in a barnyard watching a bunch of rutting farm animals have at it. The grunting and groaning alone sufficed; the viewer didn't need to be hit over the head with the visuals.
The secondary plot of young Alan trying to overcome the challenge of his polio inflicted legs so he could one day mount a horse was lost. Instead, the muck masquerading as an adolescent's "coming of age" became the focus of this movie. A shame for a work by a classic author like Marshall.