In 2009, Samson and Delilah took Cannes by storm, gaining a standing ovation and winning the Camera d’Or. The honour is doubled since it was the first Aboriginal film ever to be presented at Cannes, proving that Aborigines can hold their own with the world’s best if given the chance. I only saw the film recently and found that there was more to Samson and Delilah than a great film.
It’s become a tradition among my friends to gather to watch movies on Saturday evenings. We take turns cooking and the chef chooses the film for that night, sometimes linking cuisine and film with a theme. We each have different tastes so this tradition is a great way to see a variety of films that we wouldn’t normally see. Last time it was my turn I decided to show Samson and Delilah on the recommendation of my lecturer in the Indigenous Interests and Identities course at uni.
The film itself – described as a “love story born out of survival” by the director – held everyone’s attention for the full 101 minutes. We were fascinated by this insight into the lifestyle of Aboriginal people in their own communities and horrified by their treatment (neglect) at the hands of their White town neighbours. Poorly treated even by their own, the two teens run away to Alice Springs to find a better life. Instead, they find themselves automatically despised by the White town folk and even living as homeless, they are preyed upon. Delilah discovers a shop selling paintings she had produced with her grandmother. On seeing the price – hundreds of times the money they received – she tries her hand at selling them herself, but is pushed away and threatened. In desperation, the two resort to shoplifting from the local supermarket and both struggle with an addiction to sniffing petrol. It’s a story of discovery – of coming to terms with adulthood, friendship and relations with the White occupiers of the land. It gives a reality to the stories I studied at university last semester.
After everyone had left, I flicked over to watch the extras and found the Making Of to be even more insightful. Here, we see the director putting together his cast, trying to keep the young actors on track and working through some shoplifting trouble the star got into before he was recruited. Of particular interest was the reluctance of the two actors to walk through a supermarket with bruises painted on their faces. They were ashamed of the looks they’d get, knowing that the locals would automatically think that they’d be there to shoplift. Knowing that they were merely reinforcing the image White settlers have of their people. The future is bright for this Aboriginal director and he’s hoping that he can help the two natural actors to find their own place in modern Australia.