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Trailer for "Jindabyne"

A lot of people are reported to be upset and perplexed with The Sopranos creator David Chase for the inconclusiveness of the HBO series’ recently aired final episode. Let me tell you, Chase has nothing on Aussie film director Ray Lawrence in that regard. His first film to play in the US, Lantana, ostensibly a moody police procedural, didn’t tie things up or pin them down. And neither does his latest, Jindabyne.

In this one, four guys on a weekend fishing trip to a remote stream in southeast Australia discover the dead body of a murdered 19-year-old girl. Lawrence isn’t interested in portraying the solution of this brutal crime; we’re shown the murderer in a mutedly tense opening sequence. Nor is he interested in the disruption the slaying causes to a small community’s sense of normality. Lawrence and his film focus on the effects that the joint response of the four fishermen to their shocking discovery has on themselves and those closest to them.

The next morning, when their initial shock has subsided, they turn to the purpose of their trip: They fish. Afterwards, they contrive a clumsily unconvincing story to cover up the two-day lag in reporting the crime. It’s scarcely a cause for surprise when both the police and their families are more than a little incredulous.

The film surveys the impacts of their judgment lapse on the fault lines in their lives, particularly in the marriage of Stuart (Gabriel Byrne), who first came upon the girl’s body. A garage owner and former auto racer, Stuart is the father of a small boy and the husband of Claire (Laura Linney), a somewhat stressed and troubled woman who had an extended breakdown after the birth of her son.

Jindabyne was adapted (by Beatrix Christian) from a Raymond Carver story previously used by Robert Altman as one of the interwoven plot lines in Short Cuts. Carver may have examined the possible origins and ethical textures of this situation in a more effective way, but Lawrence’s film version neither explains nor credibly defines the dynamic elements that come together in it.

The tensions and eventual outbursts that beset Stuart, Claire and the other characters are treated, for the most part, in a studiedly obscure fashion. Lawrence may have intended a moral fable about either the ambiguity of motive or the chancy, abrupt nature of Evil’s interventions in life. But while ambiguity may be a legitimate subject, a muddled and inconsistent narrative is probably not the right approach to achieving it.

Lawrence may have the wrong artistic sensibility for this kind of thing. As an artist he’s a sensualist, apparently fascinated, or distracted, by gleaming surfaces, lush or stark natural vistas, portent-laden visual compositions. His direction suggests he had trouble sticking to his theme, whatever it was supposed to be.

Jindabyne seems to be aiming for an unsettling portentousness, but it never develops much beyond a nagging pretentiousness.