Rating: NR | Runtime: 101 minutes
Release Date: May 7th, 2009 (Australia) / October 15th, 2010 (USA)
Studio: Footprint Films / Transmission / Indiepix
Director(s): Warwick Thornton
Writer(s): Warwick Thornton & Beck Cole

Your eyes are making me laugh.

I’d say the tagline ‘true love’ is a tad misleading. Granted, the young romance at-hand is what got me invested in the tale, but the absolute squalor in which they live—not to mention the toxic fume huffing, tragedy upon tragedy, and vagrant lifestyle—is quite a rough experience. I’m not a fan of the vagabond-centric film genre as it generally seems exploitative and tragic for shock value alone, yet something about Samson & Delilah drew me in. It could be the beautifully dry expanse of Australia’s landscapes (shot by writer/director Warwick Thornton himself) or possibly its brilliant use of music (a fresh juxtaposition of country music blaring from a young aborigine’s radio). Language is sparse while emotions are strong and ever apparent. Both Samson and Delilah are alone in the world, doing their best to survive with the little they have.

Their love is slow-burning. Delilah lives with her Nana and helps paint the native canvases that an Australian shop owner takes and sells in the city to tourists and whatever art collectors are out there. Samson resides in a shack with his brother, awakening to the sounds of friends playing drums and guitar outside his open window. Both children sleep amongst the elements in a thrown together town lacking many creature comforts. Showers are few, cars are used as shelter and radios, the clinic is a worn down trailer, and fires burn constantly for light and warmth.

Living across the way from each other, the kids pass each other often with Delilah doing her best to pretend he isn’t there as Samson tries his hardest to get her attention. They are lively in the early moments, full of spunk and life—butting heads as he moves to her compound and she attempts to throw him out. It doesn’t help matters that Nana insists on calling him her granddaughter’s husband. Soon, however, the first tragedy occurs to show us westerners the abuse inflicted upon the aboriginal culture. Beatings with sticks seem par for the course whether in response to annoyances, violence, or letting those close by pass from old age.

Samson takes it upon himself to extricate his love and drive them off into the distance—as far as they can before the gas runs out. And it’s when it does that we finally see what makes the boy so strange in his demeanor and actions. What we assume has been some sort of drug contained in a tin that he awakens each morning to shove his face inside is replaced by a two-liter soda bottle full of siphoned gasoline taken from parked cars. It appears Samson is getting fuel for their ride when he is actually getting himself that extra rush to continue on through the pain of plain living.

Constantly escaping into his intoxication, Samson doesn’t see how much Delilah begins relying on him—falling in love and now showing it. Instead, his brain slowly devolves as the gas bottle never leaves his hand unless removed by her at night to be replaced by her own. This slow division between them grows each day and made me realize how relevant the title was. Would someone arrive with a proposition to kill her lover for financial gain as in the Biblical tale? Or would she stand by him no matter what hardships arose? It doesn’t take too long to find out because the tragedies get larger and more jarring in quick succession.

Thornton has quite the visual eye and I hope to see more from him in the future. Being compared to Robert Bresson for his minimalism, Samson & Delilah is a prime example of cinematic realism stripped down to what’s absolutely necessary. Definitely an exercise in ‘less is more’, this economy of words and actions shows so much. Credit both Rowan McNamara and Marissa Gibson for their stunning portrayals of underprivileged nomads because they become these characters: dirty, beaten, and mute, swatting at flies and doing whatever they can to escape the reality of how low they are. Only when Scott Thornton’s homeless Gonzo befriends them (asking for conversation in return for food) do we finally realize Samson can’t speak.

Whether from a lack of education or the degradation of his mind from the fumes or a combination of both, it doesn’t matter. All we need to understand is how his ability to function worsens every day. And it isn’t shown in more breathtaking fashion than when Delilah is kidnapped from right behind him as he keeps walking, nose still stuck in his bottle. He’s so out of it that he hears nothing until the wheels screech away. It’s one of many detailed shot compositions that prove truly unforgettable with Samson in the foreground to the left side of the screen while three boys exit the car and drag her inside via seamlessly orchestrated slomotion. It’s almost hard to believe this isn’t even the worst thing to happen while he’s under the influence.

The outlook is pretty bleak throughout, so I was surprised when an angelic moment of clarity isn’t the death of one seeing the other in heaven. No, these two kids always seem to find a way to save the other when all appears lost. It culminates in what may be a bit too hopeful of an ending—especially after the absolute rock bottom both hit—but it still stays true to the story’s progression. You can see the struggle these second-class citizens have to overcome in Central Australia while doing their best to survive let alone succeed.

The laughter is both crazed (Samson) and infectious (Mitjili Napanangka Gibson’s Nana)—a duality that really epitomizes the entire film. It is an insane world and while these two leads have found a love that endures, the troubles they face aren’t just a test of fortitude, but also another hurdle to overcome. The truth is that what occurs is one giant barricade I don’t think I’d have the courage to tackle, let alone succeed in defeating. So, watching them risk everything is quite the kick in the pants. If you ever think you have it hard living in suburban America, pop on this film and prepare for a very sobering experience.

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Rowan McNamara in SAMSON & DELILAH; courtesy of the Toronto International Film Festival.