London Film Festival: Blaze Review
“You are not broken”: Del Kathryn Barton tells the charming but potent story of a child’s road to recovery
Del Kathryn Barton’s debut is lightning in a bottle; I have seen nothing like it and I doubt I will again. Thrown in the deep end into the wacky mind of a whimsical girl, we are immediately introduced to a world of puppetry and stop-motion animation. The art alone was enough to leave me in awe but the genius of Blaze continues into the plot and exceptional acting from leading actress, Julia Savage.
Blaze (Julia Savage) is already an unusually whimsy child with a world of fantasy under her belt. This imaginative flare complemented her childlike exploration of the world around her until she is made witness to a terrifying assault. Locked in place by fear and unable to call for help, Blaze is sees the final moments of Hannah (Yael Stone)’s life when she is violently assaulted by an ex-partner. Both victims of the assault look up to the sky as both lose something essential to themselves at the hands of a suited man who simply saunters away from a murder.
Neither Blaze nor the audience is spared from every second of torture before Hannah is laid to rest in the alley by her rapist. Usually, I can’t help but sideye graphic scenes of sexual violence, asking myself if it was really necessary. Many times, I’ve seen films and series use sexual assault more as a sensationalistic tool rather than a crucial plot point. However, to understand the extreme toll this flagrant abuse takes on Blaze’s psyche, we have to see what she sees. Every detail of the crime, from the brief eye contact between Blaze and Hannah to position she died in are carefully crafted.
The rest of the plot is essentially Blaze’s road to healing from trauma and putting herself back together again for the sake of justice. Following intrusive physical checks and a ruthless cross-examination, Blaze makes for a full retreat into her internal world of childlike wonder. All she needs is her army of animal figurines and her dragon, Zephyr. Zephyr is Blaze’s emotional crutch and also the shelter of Hannah’s spirit, allowing her to curl up and weep under the dragon’s wing.
Barton’s papier-mache dragon is a looming beast in the corner of Blaze’s room, adorned with countless numbers of fathers, rhinestones, and crepe paper. The visual effects were nothing short of spectacular, all the while maintaining a shoestring charm to its creation. It was stunning but was perfectly emblematic of a imaginative child’s mind palace. Holding the moon in her arms, breathing fire at the assailant, and inner child inside her swallowing her medication are just a few of the ingenious ways that Barton illustrated Blaze’s experience of trauma and recovery.
Part of growing up (even at the best of times) is realising that your parents don’t have all the answers either. That earth-shattering moment of realising that your parents can no longer help you was the moment where tears were brimming for me. Luke (Simon Baker)’s scrambling to be Blaze’s rock at her lowest point perfectly encapsulated the feeling of helplessness of when a parent has ran out of resources and life experience to put their child back together when they’re broken.
After trying and testing anything to stop her from harming herself and disassociating completely, Blaze finds the most comfort in a friend and a therapist. Anna (Sofia Hampson), her friend from her martial arts club, understands the rage of seeing a rapist walk free. Anna was an instrumental part of her recovery, letting her know that she’s not alone. At a psychiatric institution, Blossom (Bernie van Tiel), builds real trust between her and Blaze and answers her questions transparently and without judgment.
It is endlessly gratifying when Blaze finally realises that she must kill the sanctuary of her childhood. In order to move forward and testify, she must kill Zephyr and (quite literally) embody the dragon herself. She must also find peace between herself and Hannah, allowing them both to exist in her mind harmoniously. Childhood itself was Blaze’s lifelong friend but the trauma and injustice of world forced her to part ways with her imaginative retreat and confront her trauma as a new woman.
As well as following Blaze’s character, Blaze is a call to justice for the one woman who is murdered by a partner or ex-partner every week in Australia. Justice is a difficult concept in terms of sexual violence, mainly because of how little we see it. But the justice for Blaze is merely the ability to testify and feeling the support of womankind behind her as she makes her statement. Barton tenaciously confronts the matter at hand and calls women and girls to action.
Does Blaze testifying amount to any sort of justice? Perhaps, perhaps not. We cannot know the outcome of her testifying. But the act of rekindling herself from the embers of her trauma may serve as a poetic justice that may have to be enough. Charming, powerful, and unrepeatable, Barton has performed the feat of creating both a debut and masterpiece in the same film. Is the sky the limit for Barton? I certainly hope not.
Verdict: ★★★★★
