‘The Moogai Review: A Limp Australian Horror Film Made Of Colonial Metaphors
Stories of Australia's "stolen generations" – Aboriginal children forcibly removed from their families by a white government – fuel Mugai's central metaphor, based on John Bell's 2020 Sundance horror short film. It imposes severe restrictions on Bell's debut film, a short but spirited thriller full of reminders of meaning that falls short of thrills or appeals.
A gripping prologue set decades ago takes the viewer into Australia's turbulent history, where white men in suits try to hunt down and kidnap black children on an Aboriginal reserve. Two of these children, two young sisters, escaped the fate of ethnic cleansing and forced assimilation, although one of them was captured by a supernatural force lurking in the shadows: Mugai, the notorious crispy glove child kidnapper. clawed hands . like fingers
However, the main story is set in the present day. One of the surviving girls, Ruth (an old woman played by the now perfectly bonded Tessa Rose), still bears the scars on her face from her encounter with Mugai. We enter the ongoing family saga when Sarah (Shari Sebbens), the real protagonist of the film, visits her biological daughter, whom she has recently reunited with. When Sarah and her husband Fergus (Man Wyatt) welcome their second child, baby Jacob, his arrival is accompanied by strange rumors and events: The mysterious Border warns of Jacob's capture, sending Sarah down the rabbit hole. with… well, not exactly madness, but definitely an intense lack of self-doubt.
"Mugai" clearly carries its metaphors, even if in the end it is not very intelligent in the narrative. The idea is well thought out, but the art direction is everything. It's a film where the clichés of horror films maintain tension and skillfully fail to release it. Framing error, where what should be shocking, touching and hidden becomes too visible to have any effect, combined with editing that reduces the impact of every reveal and jump.
The film is full of obvious subtexts, although some of them are used dramatically or conceptually. Just as Sarah, a light-skinned white woman, simultaneously struggles with the physical complications of a difficult childbirth and the emotional difficulties of reuniting with her abducted black mother, Jacob is forced to confront his whiteness. . man the little girl, unlike her already visible black daughter, could fall victim to the same line of alienation forced from her parents and her culture. However, viewers should consider and intellectualize this comparison (and any possibility of Sarah's biases), rather than a possibility hidden in the film's subtext or presentation. The camera rarely lingers on a location or character to imagine complex possibilities through reaction or contemplation.
Mugai is often described as a "long-armed" creature - presumably referring to the long arm of the law - but despite the film's many metaphors, the bastard is ultimately presented literally, which ironically sets him apart from Bell's narrative of conveyed trauma. . generation after generation The fact that Mugaik isn't scary at all can be a minor problem, as long as his effects aren't scary enough.
The idea of white assimilation surrounds Sarah from all sides, from her adoption by white parents and Ruth's rejection of indigenous beliefs to the disdain with which she treats her daughter and many white police officers, doctors and lawyers as black. in the film, who willingly harass the local residents. These social dynamics are treated as background artifacts, while the white secondary characters end up playing roles in a delicate social drama that, at best, seems incidental or parallel to Mugai's story.
When the film finally integrates its cultural ambiguities, it leaves no underlying fear to the imagination. Ultimately, the only question is whether Sebbens is a competent actor, as Bell's cinema seems intent on hiding his talent. She defends herself from Rose, which gives Ruth a great sense of pain and humanity. But unfortunately, Sarah's role requires her to deliver dehumanizing dialogue and behavior that might serve the logistics and look of the film's plot, rather than emotional nuances that might give way to fear and human suffering.
Ultimately, Mugai is a film whose metaphorical gestures can inform or interest audiences in Australian history, even if this function is largely academic. Unfortunately, attempts to convey the lingering pain and extensive historical trauma behind these experiences are belied by dreary cinematography devoid of tension.
