D H Lawrence never fitted in - to his own class, to Britain, the modern world. He married a foreigner, making him even more of a misfit. In this film, based on his book, a writer - more or less Lawrence - objects to the war (WWI) and is suspected of spying, so he and his wife pack off to Australia. Fascinating to see depictions of Sydney in early 1900s. We're there really communists and fascists in this sleepy land? The acting is fine, and I liked the photography and music, but wished the script made characters a bit clearer. In the end, the film seems to have the same lack of commitment that it's hero has: he has one foot out of Australia the entire time, and leaves without any resolutions. This is disappointing, yet ultimatel more like life. Things end badly or not at all.
Review of Kangaroo
