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In Kitty Green's second directorial venture, a departure from her meticulously crafted debut, "The Assistant," the Australian filmmaker thrusts us into a desolate pub in the heart of the Australian outback—far removed from the slick world of a New York film production house. "The Royal Hotel" stars Julia Garner once again, this time as Hanna, a young woman swapping the chaos of a film studio for the rowdy realm of an outback pub, challenging the notion that patriarchy is a force one can escape.
Hanna, accompanied by her friend Liv (Jessica Henshaw), finds themselves penniless in Sydney, their dubious claim of Canadian origin their only currency. Faced with financial desperation, they board a bus headed for the middle of nowhere, the camera skillfully capturing the vast emptiness of the Australian desert, reminiscent of the foreboding landscapes in "Wake in Fright."
The pub, owned and managed by the boisterous Hugo Weaving, exudes a blokey atmosphere reminiscent of John Jarratt's character in "Wolf Creek." Drawing inspiration from the 2016 documentary "Hotel Coolgardie," Green weaves a narrative around two backpackers navigating the challenges of working in a mining-town pub. However, "The Royal Hotel" takes creative liberties, transforming its interior with wood paneling and dangling fluorescent lights, creating a stage for the complex drama that unfolds.
Behind the bar, Hanna grapples with the demands of mostly male patrons, showcasing the delicate balance between banter and harassment. The disused swimming pool, where the protagonist finds solace sipping cask wine, becomes a symbolic oasis in the midst of the film's gripping narrative.
As the clock ticks away in the 91-minute runtime, "The Royal Hotel" emerges as a riveting exploration of gender dynamics in a remote outpost. With Garner's compelling portrayal, Green delves into the universal struggle against patriarchy, illustrating that even in the vastness of the outback, one cannot escape the pervasive influence of societal norms. "The Royal Hotel" is a bold foray into the harsh realities faced by those who dare to challenge the status quo, making it a must-watch for those seeking a thought-provoking cinematic experience.
While the decor may exude an old-school charm, the dynamics within The Royal Hotel weave a narrative that transcends eras. Australians, accustomed to the diverse manifestations of masculinity, will find familiar archetypes brought to life by a talented cast. Toby Wallace takes on the role of a smirking young larrikin, James Frecheville embodies the brooding "quiet type," and Daniel Henshall portrays the perpetual pub-dweller who resists the notion of heading home.
In this cinematic exploration of The Royal Hotel, the skilled ensemble cast breathes life into characters that embody more-or-less toxic masculinity. Wallace's smirking larrikin serves as a symbol of cheeky bravado, Frecheville's sullen demeanor encapsulates the brooding silence often associated with traditional masculinity, and Henshall's perpetual drunkard character becomes a living testament to those who find solace in the never-ending embrace of the local pub.
The film subtly peels back the layers of these archetypes, revealing the nuanced complexities beneath the surface of seemingly familiar personas. As each character unfolds within the confines of The Royal Hotel, the audience is invited to contemplate the timelessness of these masculine tropes and their impact on the individuals who embody them.
In a world where societal expectations often shape the contours of masculinity, The Royal Hotel becomes a microcosm, showcasing the various facets of manhood — from the audacious to the introspective, and from the carefree to the perennially lost. As the characters navigate the delicate balance between camaraderie and conflict, the film prompts reflection on the enduring nature of these masculine dynamics and their resonance in the collective consciousness of Australian culture.
"The Royal Hotel" emerges not just as a tale set in a specific time and place but as a mirror reflecting the timeless struggles and triumphs of masculinity, etched against the backdrop of an old-school pub where tradition and toxicity intersect in a dance as old as time itself.
As The Royal Hotel unfolds its tapestry of characters, each a living embodiment of more-or-less toxic masculinity, the film transcends its old-school decor to reveal the timeless dynamics at play. Toby Wallace's smirking larrikin, James Frecheville's brooding "quiet type," and Daniel Henshall's perpetual pub-dweller collectively form a mosaic of masculinity that resonates with the collective consciousness of Australians.
Beyond the worn-out charm of the pub, the film invites introspection into the enduring nature of these masculine archetypes. It peels back the layers, exposing the nuanced complexities beneath the surface, prompting audiences to contemplate the societal expectations that mold these characters. The Royal Hotel becomes a microcosm, a stage where the timeless struggles and triumphs of manhood are played out, from audacious bravado to introspective silence.
The delicate dance between camaraderie and conflict within the film mirrors the intricate balance of masculine dynamics in Australian culture. It serves not merely as a narrative set in a specific time and place but as a reflective mirror, capturing the essence of masculinity in a perpetual dance with tradition and toxicity.
In The Royal Hotel, tradition and toxicity intersect, creating a narrative that speaks to the universal challenges faced by individuals navigating the expectations of societal norms. As the credits roll, the film leaves an indelible mark, prompting contemplation on the enduring nature of masculinity and its impact on the human experience. The Royal Hotel, with its skilled cast and timeless themes, stands as a testament to the age-old adage that some aspects of human nature remain constant, regardless of the era or setting.