Despite its sparse dialogue, Thornton’s visceral film speaks volumes, biblical proportions in fact, about love, loss, and tragedy in the unlikeliest of friendships
By Andro Cipriano

Warwick Thornton’s un-biblical feature length flick, Samson and Delilah, is anything but your typical clear-cut story of boy-meets-girl-of-his-dreams. Enter unconventional hero—Samson, a petrol-sniffing junkie, whose attempts at daily interactions with others leave him with nothing more than shoo-fly-don’t-bother-me responses, especially from Delilah, his object of interest. Try as she might to resist him, the off-beat couple’s fates are intertwined in a series of unfortunate events, culminating in a Thelma-and-Louise-inspired escape from their isolated Aborigine community. As the pair explores a world and culture outside their own, they find more sorrow and heartache as outcasts in city life—from being hobos without even apple seeds to spare to being targets of racist white folks, who bombard them with hushed tones of paranoia and round-the-clock stink-eye glances. Samson and Delilah is ultimately a poignant film about love and loss—as well as the ability to be found again—through a genuine partnership that goes beyond all words.

It’s precisely this minimalist, almost mime-like dialogue that renders the film its transcendent beauty. With over nine years of experience under his sleeve, Thornton’s use of light (its abundance or lack thereof) highlights his mad skills as a master cinematographer, with the outback’s sweeping landscape as his subject. Part of his arsenal is also the evident lack of a continuous soundtrack, relying mainly on the crackle of fire, the buzz of crickets, or the occasional beat of the drum to build an increasing atmosphere of tension and despair. Thornton’s film is, indeed, no trip down the yellow brick road; its portrayal of existing social realities is heart wrenching, oftentimes, brutal. There is simply no fence-sitting for this film—you’ll either love or hate its subtle complexity. But by the film’s end, Thornton gives not only a renewed sense of hope, he’ll even make you pity those poor kangaroos (you’ll just have to watch the film to see what happens).