Tracks - film review

An uneven but ultimately stirring adaptation of Robyn Davidson’s book about her trek through the Australian desert in the Seventies
Natural stars: the four camels almost steal the film from Mia Wasikowska

Camels are out of this world. They run like the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park; their wails make you think of space aliens being crucified. There are four of them in John Curran’s uneven but ultimately stirring adaptation of Robyn Davidson’s best-selling book, which documents her journey in the late Seventies through 1,700 miles of Australian desert.

While in training for the nine-month trek, Davidson (played by Mia Wasikowska) learns how to beguile camels. Perhaps, somewhere along the line, Dookie, Bub, Zeleika and baby Goliath took lessons in how to beguile cinemagoers. Trust me, they’re naturals.

It takes longer for the humans to make an impression. Davidson is an aloof gal, initially hostile towards the National Geographic photographer (Adam Driver from Girls) who can’t keep away. Wasikowska and Driver struggle to make these scenes convincing. We sense romance is in the air and the characters’ chalk-and-cheese approach to life feels contrived. There’s also something sanitised about the depiction of our heroine (no mention is made of how she manages her periods in the wild). The film-makers obviously want to attract the kind of discerning, animal-loving youngsters who toddled along to Ang Lee’s Life of Pi, and something has been sacrificed to secure that 12A rating.

Still, everything improves once Davidson’s back-story comes into focus and she meets a mercurial Aborigine called Mr Eddie (Roly Mintuma). Memories of her mother, as well as the somewhat conservative Mr Eddie, start to haunt Davidson.

Wasikowska makes us believe in this woman’s troubled interior life and the textures of her personality become as fascinating as her blistered skin. In fact, at the end — when we see the photographs that appeared in National Geographic — the real Davidson appears far more of a glamour puss than Wasikowska’s “camel lady”. The phoney quester trumps the authentic one. Curran’s team should give themselves a pat on the back.

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