![]() In Storm Boy, the Coorong is both a sanctuary for native birdlife and a refuge for its protagonists. Hope is not lost entirely – a “bird boom” earlier this year suggested a path to recover for the Coorong, though ”the jury’s still out” – but the sad state of the region nowadays reinforces the importance of Storm Boy’s messages of sensitivity and conservation. Mass extinctions and declines in breeding, credited to super-saline water caused by “years without an environmental flow from the Murray-Darling system” saw The Age declare the ecosystem “dead” in 2006. ![]() ![]() In the four decades since Storm Boy’s filming, the Coorong has degraded to a potentially irrevocable state of disrepair. Said businessman are caught at sea in a raging storm, and only rescued by the intervention of Mr Percival who – in the film’s least plausible, most crowd-pleasing moment – flies a lifesaving line out to them. "The sad state of the region nowadays reinforces the importance of Storm Boy’s messages of sensitivity and conservation." (Environmental vandalism, it seems, goes hand-in-hand with excessive alcohol consumption.) The callous hunters who gun down Mr Percival’s mother – and, ultimately, Mr Percival himself – are the most obvious threats to the environment, but their blithe destruction is joined by casual neglect: the drunken louts who plough their dune buggies through the undergrowth (an addition to Thiele’s story, inspired by producer Matt Carroll’s encounter with “the incongruous sounds of… booze-fuelled hollering” in the area), or the boating businessman who toss their empty beer cans into the lagoon without a second thought. The film’s environmentalism is nuanced throughout, representing the diverse challenges to the sanctity of its seaside setting. This portrait of nature avoids naiveté, with an encounter with a deadly black snake acknowledging the perils amidst the picturesque views. Geoff Burton’s cinematography gently captures the Coorong’s beauty, creating a contemplative sense of fragility that cuts through even when watching the most overworn video cassette. If you’re looking for a case for the conservation of the Australian natural ecosystem, Storm Boy operates as an effective exhibit. A remake – which “an older Mike Kingsley recounts his pelican adventures to his wayward granddaughter” – is even in the works (perhaps hoping to recreate the success of 2011’s surprise hit Red Dog), to the doubtless delight of primary school teachers across the nation. A recent restoration has toured the country, playing at Adelaide panel discussions, the Canberra International Film Festival and this year’s Brisbane Asia Pacific Film Festival. The Guardian’s 2014 rewatch of the film celebrated it as “a drama deeply attuned to its own aesthetic” while a recent FilmInk retrospective noted that “the film truly stands the test of time.”Īdmittedly, Storm Boy’s prominence may have waned somewhat over recent years – not helped by a middling-quality DVD transfer – but its 40th anniversary has seen it swoop back into the public consciousness in a big way. Forty years on from its premiere at Adelaide’s Fair Lady Theatre on the 18th of November, 1976, Storm Boy remains an important piece of Australian film culture. Storm Boy’s release was heralded by a handful of awards, largely from Australian institutions – most notably the Best Film gong at the 1977 AFI Awards (Safran, Dalaithngu and screenwriter Sonia Borg also nabbed AFI nominations). But the idyllic rhythms of lagoon life are challenged by the encroachments of the real world, and all that implies for Storm Boy’s unconventional childhood. ![]() Storm Boy forges a friendship with Fingerbone and one of the pelicans, named Mr Percival. ![]() ‘Storm Boy’ is thus named by Fingerbone Bill (David Dalaithngu), with whom he rescues a trio of pelican chicks, abandoned after their mother’s death. It takes place in a remote South Australian lagoon system and national park called the Coorong. The film stars prepubescent Greg Rowe as the titular ‘Storm Boy’, better known as Mike to his dad Tom Kingsley (Peter Cummins), whose own nickname, ‘Hide-Away Tom’, effectively summarises his hermitic tendencies. (The G-rating and supplementary education kits can’t have hurt, either.) Its message of environmental conservatism and social acceptance has ensured that generations of kids have been treated to fuzzy VHS transfers of the film. Henri Safran’s adaptation of Colin Thiele’s 1964 novel established its reputation with a then-impressive haul of $2.6 million at the local box office, since maintaining a cultural foothold thanks in large part to its ubiquity in primary school classrooms. ![]()
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