It’s lush, it’s larger than life, it’s impossibly romantic: what else could it be but Baz Luhrmann’s epic Australia?  A visual spectacle from start to finish, the overall effect is overwhelming, and those who’ve snorted at its opulence are missing the point.  This is Australia as myth, a fabulous confection inspired by the continent’s history and served up in a sugary rush.  In the same way that the Peach Melba was a tribute in dessert form to Australia’s Dame Nelly Melba, this too will please cinemagoers with a sweet tooth while leaving fans of the savoury wondering where the protein is.

Nicole Kidman is in fine form as Lady Sarah Ashley, who comes to the continent to bring her errant husband home and ends up finding a whole new life — her own — in another hemisphere.  She’s a wonderful creation, starting off as a no-nonsense aristocrat and loosing her stiffness as she warms to the country and its people.  Two people in particular: The Drover, played by Hugh Jackman, an untamed hunk of masculinity who she needs to get her deceased hubby’s cattle to the docks in time to feed the troops in World War Two.  And a half-Aboriginal boy, convincingly brought to life by 12 year old Brandon Walters.

Between them, man and boy represent two poles of Australian life: its exaggerated masculinity, and its shameful treatment of native people.  And, guess what, la Kidman manages to unite them in a fantastic epic romance that defies credibility with gusto.  The first half of the story chronicles The Drover leading an ill-assorted team in driving 1500 bovines across arduous territory largely controlled by an evil cattle baron.  It’s a trek that I’m sure pays homage to no end of westerns, and it’s gripping stuff.  It ends on a triumphant note, Kidman’s cows boarding the military ship they’re bound for just ahead of the bad guy’s, despite his dastardly attempts to thwart them through the actions of his henchman Fletcher.

Interestingly, Fletcher is the Aboriginal child’s father, and that story forms the second and less satisfactory part of the film.  Problem being, how to fuse the mythic grandeur of the first 90 minutes with the more politically charged content of the second half.  Especially when it’s played out against a backdrop of Japan declaring war on Australia.  There’s arguably too much going on, and some unsatisfactory shortcuts are made to get it all to fit into even three hours.  Fletcher, for instance, has an unconvincing arc taking him from being a henchman to being chief villain with the assistance of a hungry crocodile, and that rise is as unexpected as the mention of the crocodile in this sentence.  He’s elevated in stature so he can be the true bad guy in the film’s final showdown, and I can’t help feeling that the story could have been better designed to parcel out responsibilities between him and his boss.

For all that, this is often a magical story that weaves a lyrical spell on the audience. The kid and his Aboriginal grandfather’s enigmatic relationship is powerful stuff, the two connected by songs that embrace ancient energies and The Wizard of Oz.  The latter is an important reference point here as it is in so many other films, Lady Sarah telling and singing it to the boy, and him in turn using it to sing her and The Drover back into his life at the climax of the film.

This is cinema at its most epic, and being a Luhrmann movie it’s about epic film as well as being one itself.  Not that it feels self-conscious when you’re watching it, but emotionally, visually, musically, and in terms of story it’s clearly cut from the same cloth as Gone with the Wind and The English Patient.  Not films I’d want to see too often, but there’s a mood that strikes once in a while, and next time it does I’ll know that Australia is a worthy member of the canon.