here are a number of reviews! Just did a search.
Dance Me to My Song
By Roger Ebert
back
From the Telluride Film Festival:
Another much-discussed film, but this one with a happy ending, is Rolf de
Heers "Dance Me to My Song," an extraordinary Australian work that was
written by Heather Rose, who also stars in iteven though she has cerebral
palsy, and communicates through a computer and a speaking machine. As the
film opens, shes at the mercy of a stupid and cruel "care giver" who
neglects and insults her. Using her motorized wheelchair and her lively
intelligence, she tries to figure a way out of her dilemma. In the opening
shot, the heroine seems hopeless and alien. By the end, we identify more
with her than with the normals in the story.
From the Hawaii Film Festival:
by Roger Ebert
"Dance Me to My Song" takes place in Australia, and tells the story of a
young woman trapped in a wheelchair by cerebral palsy, and trapped
psychologically by a cruel, manipulative caregiver. During a time of
excruciating frustration, she wages war against all of the barriers around
her, and succeeds, amazingly, in attracting a lover. The film stars Heather
Rose, who also wrote it, and who plays, as she must, a cerebral palsy
victim much like herself. It is the kind of film where the human will and
spirit overwhelm you. It was directed by Rolf de Heer.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----
Dance Me to My Song
by Evan Williams
The Australian
AUDIENCES in Adelaide have been accorded the modest privilege of being
allowed to see Dance Me To My Song a week before the rest of us; they
should seize the opportunity. Financed by the South Australian Film
Corporation, Rolf de Heer's marvellous film was shot in Adelaide, as were
his other successes The Quiet Room and Bad Boy Bubby. The Quiet Room and
Dance Me To My Song were selected for competition in Cannes.
Heather Rose, the cerebral palsy sufferer who stars in Dance Me To My Song,
was in Cannes for this year's screening, and I can still see her on the
steps of the Palais, cradled in the arms of her co-star John Brumpton,
beaming to the crowd and looking terrific in a blue satin number with
off-the-shoulder neckline. A more genuinely warm and delighted reception
from that notoriously cynical crowd is difficult to recall; and it wasn't
just the Australians who were cheering.
Later I wondered if the image of that ecstatic moment had coloured my
opinion of the film, but I needn't have worried. At a second viewing in
Sydney it looked as brave and exhilarating as ever, possessing all the
passion of Shine with none of the phoniness and pretension. But its
weaknesses could be seen more clearly. Surely no professional carer could
be as diabolically unfeeling as the ghastly Madelaine (played by Joey
Kennedy), and yes, there are times when the story is hard to believe
though this may simply mean that the unbelievable is more wonderful when it
happens.
Rose (who collaborated on the screenplay with de Heer and Frederick Stahl)
plays Julia, a young woman confined to a wheelchair at her home in an
Adelaide suburb, dependent on an electronic voice-box and visits from her
carer, who comes each day to feed and clean her. Anyone squeamish about the
details of these attentions will be sorely tested in the opening scenes.
Arriving late and flustered for a morning call, Madelaine discovers Julia
distressed on her bed, briskly feels her for wetness, mutters her relief on
finding her dry ("Thank Christ"), hauls her to the toilet, shovels baby
mush into a well-smeared and protesting face ("I wish you could eat like a
normal person instead of a bloody animal"), and promptly flounces off.
In the evenings, it is Madelaine's habit to make herself comfortable in
Julia's house, to which a boyfriend is occasionally admitted; as a special
treat, Julia's wheelchair is positioned near the bedroom door so she can
observe the lovemaking ("you can watch, but you have to shut up"). That
Julia hungers for love and companionship in these surroundings is hardly
surprising; what is surprising is the way she goes about finding it.
Eddie appears one day in the street, a passer-by cool, unassertively good
looking, with a nonchalant and taciturn humour. Julia, on the footpath,
blocks his way with her wheelchair. There's some dodging about and a
cautious exchange of glances; Julia heads him off again. At first this
behaviour seems more perverse than flirtatious, but Eddie is persuaded he
is curious, after all to follow her into the house. Conversation via
synthesiser is marked by some playful banter; Eddie, too, finds himself
saddled with toilet duties, and the mood is the opposite of romantic. But
the development of this unlikely friendship, its fitful and prankish
progress towards genuine attachment and mutual respect, is the central
miracle of the film. And what follows is largely predictable Eddie's
seduction, the jealous and uncomprehending fury of Madelaine's reaction,
her determination to get Eddie for herself. The outcome will come as no
surprise to viewers of inspirational movies, but de Heer preserves the
freshness and integrity of his subject matter with a steely control,
leading us to a truly exultant final scene.
As Eddie, Brumpton manages to suggest that he is driven by something more
than pity or natural tender-heartedness. It is in some ways the most
difficult part in the film. But Rose is the shining centre of the story;
there is mischief in those looks, an impish greed in her love for Eddie
that gives a kind of playfulness to those painfully contorted movements.
Her eyes speak for her: the few pitiful syllables coaxed from her computer
are more like subtitles for the audience than words for Eddie. A repeated
grunting sometimes more of a snarl punctuates her exertions. It's a
sound so rhythmic and primal that I wondered if it was Rose's natural voice
or a sound effect like the sinister collage of humming and throbbing
David Lynch used for The Elephant Man. Yet in Julia even these minimal
sounds take on a natural expressiveness.
The weaknesses lie in the other characters a Madelaine too hateful to be
believed (mainly the fault of the writing) and a lesbian chum with a heart
of gold (Rena Owen), the only seriously sentimental touch in the film.
With Dance Me To My Song, de Heer has broken new ground for the familiar
"disability" picture. He has reversed the normal perspective of the viewer.
In most of these films Gil Brierley's Annie's Coming Out is the best
comparison it is the carer's viewpoint that matters: Will Angela Punch
McGregor break through to Annie's cloistered disabled soul? In de Heer's
film we see the story through Julia's eyes. It is Julia who is struggling
to break through, to reach the world beyond herself. And not without some
wonder and embarrassment, we identify with her. It is a difficult feat to
bring off; and because we are forced to get close to Julia in a sense to
become her many will find this good and brave film more than they can
bear. But stay with it to the end: the rewards are rich indeed.
Dance Me to My Song
By Roger Ebert
back
From the Telluride Film Festival:
Another much-discussed film, but this one with a happy ending, is Rolf de
Heers "Dance Me to My Song," an extraordinary Australian work that was
written by Heather Rose, who also stars in iteven though she has cerebral
palsy, and communicates through a computer and a speaking machine. As the
film opens, shes at the mercy of a stupid and cruel "care giver" who
neglects and insults her. Using her motorized wheelchair and her lively
intelligence, she tries to figure a way out of her dilemma. In the opening
shot, the heroine seems hopeless and alien. By the end, we identify more
with her than with the normals in the story.
From the Hawaii Film Festival:
by Roger Ebert
"Dance Me to My Song" takes place in Australia, and tells the story of a
young woman trapped in a wheelchair by cerebral palsy, and trapped
psychologically by a cruel, manipulative caregiver. During a time of
excruciating frustration, she wages war against all of the barriers around
her, and succeeds, amazingly, in attracting a lover. The film stars Heather
Rose, who also wrote it, and who plays, as she must, a cerebral palsy
victim much like herself. It is the kind of film where the human will and
spirit overwhelm you. It was directed by Rolf de Heer.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----
Dance Me to My Song
by Evan Williams
The Australian
AUDIENCES in Adelaide have been accorded the modest privilege of being
allowed to see Dance Me To My Song a week before the rest of us; they
should seize the opportunity. Financed by the South Australian Film
Corporation, Rolf de Heer's marvellous film was shot in Adelaide, as were
his other successes The Quiet Room and Bad Boy Bubby. The Quiet Room and
Dance Me To My Song were selected for competition in Cannes.
Heather Rose, the cerebral palsy sufferer who stars in Dance Me To My Song,
was in Cannes for this year's screening, and I can still see her on the
steps of the Palais, cradled in the arms of her co-star John Brumpton,
beaming to the crowd and looking terrific in a blue satin number with
off-the-shoulder neckline. A more genuinely warm and delighted reception
from that notoriously cynical crowd is difficult to recall; and it wasn't
just the Australians who were cheering.
Later I wondered if the image of that ecstatic moment had coloured my
opinion of the film, but I needn't have worried. At a second viewing in
Sydney it looked as brave and exhilarating as ever, possessing all the
passion of Shine with none of the phoniness and pretension. But its
weaknesses could be seen more clearly. Surely no professional carer could
be as diabolically unfeeling as the ghastly Madelaine (played by Joey
Kennedy), and yes, there are times when the story is hard to believe
though this may simply mean that the unbelievable is more wonderful when it
happens.
Rose (who collaborated on the screenplay with de Heer and Frederick Stahl)
plays Julia, a young woman confined to a wheelchair at her home in an
Adelaide suburb, dependent on an electronic voice-box and visits from her
carer, who comes each day to feed and clean her. Anyone squeamish about the
details of these attentions will be sorely tested in the opening scenes.
Arriving late and flustered for a morning call, Madelaine discovers Julia
distressed on her bed, briskly feels her for wetness, mutters her relief on
finding her dry ("Thank Christ"), hauls her to the toilet, shovels baby
mush into a well-smeared and protesting face ("I wish you could eat like a
normal person instead of a bloody animal"), and promptly flounces off.
In the evenings, it is Madelaine's habit to make herself comfortable in
Julia's house, to which a boyfriend is occasionally admitted; as a special
treat, Julia's wheelchair is positioned near the bedroom door so she can
observe the lovemaking ("you can watch, but you have to shut up"). That
Julia hungers for love and companionship in these surroundings is hardly
surprising; what is surprising is the way she goes about finding it.
Eddie appears one day in the street, a passer-by cool, unassertively good
looking, with a nonchalant and taciturn humour. Julia, on the footpath,
blocks his way with her wheelchair. There's some dodging about and a
cautious exchange of glances; Julia heads him off again. At first this
behaviour seems more perverse than flirtatious, but Eddie is persuaded he
is curious, after all to follow her into the house. Conversation via
synthesiser is marked by some playful banter; Eddie, too, finds himself
saddled with toilet duties, and the mood is the opposite of romantic. But
the development of this unlikely friendship, its fitful and prankish
progress towards genuine attachment and mutual respect, is the central
miracle of the film. And what follows is largely predictable Eddie's
seduction, the jealous and uncomprehending fury of Madelaine's reaction,
her determination to get Eddie for herself. The outcome will come as no
surprise to viewers of inspirational movies, but de Heer preserves the
freshness and integrity of his subject matter with a steely control,
leading us to a truly exultant final scene.
As Eddie, Brumpton manages to suggest that he is driven by something more
than pity or natural tender-heartedness. It is in some ways the most
difficult part in the film. But Rose is the shining centre of the story;
there is mischief in those looks, an impish greed in her love for Eddie
that gives a kind of playfulness to those painfully contorted movements.
Her eyes speak for her: the few pitiful syllables coaxed from her computer
are more like subtitles for the audience than words for Eddie. A repeated
grunting sometimes more of a snarl punctuates her exertions. It's a
sound so rhythmic and primal that I wondered if it was Rose's natural voice
or a sound effect like the sinister collage of humming and throbbing
David Lynch used for The Elephant Man. Yet in Julia even these minimal
sounds take on a natural expressiveness.
The weaknesses lie in the other characters a Madelaine too hateful to be
believed (mainly the fault of the writing) and a lesbian chum with a heart
of gold (Rena Owen), the only seriously sentimental touch in the film.
With Dance Me To My Song, de Heer has broken new ground for the familiar
"disability" picture. He has reversed the normal perspective of the viewer.
In most of these films Gil Brierley's Annie's Coming Out is the best
comparison it is the carer's viewpoint that matters: Will Angela Punch
McGregor break through to Annie's cloistered disabled soul? In de Heer's
film we see the story through Julia's eyes. It is Julia who is struggling
to break through, to reach the world beyond herself. And not without some
wonder and embarrassment, we identify with her. It is a difficult feat to
bring off; and because we are forced to get close to Julia in a sense to
become her many will find this good and brave film more than they can
bear. But stay with it to the end: the rewards are rich indeed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[log in to unmask]
Catch you later!
> [Original Message]
> From: pam <[log in to unmask]>
> To: <[log in to unmask]>
> Date: 5/1/2005 5:03:23 PM
> Subject: Re: film info wanted please
>
> The title is something like "Dance me to my Song", and I think it was made
> in Australia.
>
> Pam
>
> > So I'm looking for information on a film and don't have much to
> > go on. But here's what I have, and I hope you film buffs can
> > fill the rest in. It was possibly made sometime in the last 5
> > years. It might have been made in Austria. It was the story of
> > a disabled woman, and I think she played her self. I know she
> > was married or planing on getting married. Possibly to a non
> > disabled man. It may have been a very intimate portrait of her
> > life, may have focused on issues around sexuality and disability.
> > > work in my VCR?
> >
> >
|
