183: My Brilliant Career

I can’t say that Victorian-era costume dramas are my bread and butter when it comes to favorite genres, but Gillian Armstrong’s My Brilliant Career (1979) has a charm that can’t be denied.  Watching it, I kept getting the feeling that this was something my mother would have made me watch when I was a kid, something that I would have most certainly hated.  And yet, I could conjure no hatred for this picture, save for the disheveled hair of the primary protagonist, which is part of the point anyway.

Sybylla Melvyn (Judy Davis) was born in the wrong place.  Her thoughts are of fancy parties, and art, and music, and bare little resemblance to her reality as the daughter of an impoverished cattle rancher in the bush of Australia.  Not fit for this life, and a drain on her parents’ wallets and patience, she is sent to live with her wealthy aunt and maternal grandmother.  Though this is a step in the right direction for Sybylla, the two older women’s constant advice about marriage drives her mad.  They attempt to set her up with a daffy friend (Robert Grubb), and warn her against the dangers of marrying for love, as her mother did.      

As I said, these turn of the 20^th century costume dramas aren’t typically my favorite films, but the ones that stand out are usually those that feature characters who, openly or otherwise, challenge the values of the Victorian era.  Sybylla is focused on making something of her life, a career in literature or art, and not, as society tells her to be, on finding a husband that ensures financial security for her future.  She is a precursor to the suffrage movement and the ideals of women’s lib.  But for as opposed to marriage as she is, she cannot hide her love for the wealthy Harry Beechum (Sam Neill).

In Harry’s introductory scene the film employs a mistaken identity meet-cute that has since become a staple of the rom-com genre. Notice here how Armstrong applies the vignette sparsely before casting it aside, referencing it only once again in passing toward the picture’s conclusion.  Indeed, entire (and certainly lesser) films have been based on using this 3-minute gag as the premise for a 90+-minute film, but here it’s just right.  There for a moment and then gone, it gives way to much more important elements of character and narrative.

Though this film is charming in many ways, what I found most interesting as a film lover was seeing early and inspired performances from Judy Davis and Sam Neill.  Since I’m familiar seeing Neill run from dinosaurs and Davis delivering snide remarks penned by Woody Allen, it was real treat to digest these quite different perspectives on their work.  Their performances take a relationship which had the potential to be two-dimensional and bring it to life, exemplifying the complexities of human interaction.

Grade: 3 Hats Off