Twelve-year-old Ricky is an alleged juvenile delinquent in the making: His crimes, as enumerated by the social worker who has escorted him to one foster home after another, include “stealing, spitting, throwing rocks, kicking stuff and defacing stuff” as well as the classic “loitering.” These transgressions, shown in a fleet, skittering montage, are hardly grave. But no one seems to want Ricky, a heavy-set kid who puts up a glum gangsta front but who actually has a fondness for reading and a knack for putting his feelings into haiku on the fly.
He finds his place, at last, in a ramshackle house in the middle of nowhere with Bella and her gruff, laconic husband Hec. Bella is a lover of cat figurines. She can also kill a wild hog, with barely a tussle, using just a knife. Ricky comes to adore her—you understand why when you hear the ridiculous song she composes and performs for his thirteenth birthday—but her sudden death leaves him and Hec stranded emotionally. Hec doesn’t seem to care much for Ricky. And so, knowing that he’s going to be sent off to another home, Ricky runs off into the bush with his dog, Tupac. Hec finds him, but a series of mini-disasters keep the duo trekking through the wilderness for months. They come to understand each other, but it takes longer than you’d think for them to actually like each other.
Much of the film focuses on the relationship between Hec and Ricky but I want to take a moment to sing the praises of Bella, one of the most lovable characters I’ve encountered in a film in a long while. She’s impossibly cheery, to a nearly obnoxious degree, but her loving nature, warmth, and affection for cast-offs are completely genuine. She’s also tough—we watch her matter-of-factly skin vermin that she’s hunted and, later, stab a wild pig with a knife (“Dinner!” she shouts triumphantly, her face splattered with blood.) At first, Ricky keeps trying to run away—although not being a particularly outdoorsy type, he doesn’t get very far. But little by little, Bella breaks down his resistances. She listens to his profane, but funny haiku poems and, movingly, puts a hot water bottle in his bed every night. It’s a tiny gesture, but one that Ricky, who has never had a family of his own, clearly relishes. (He continues to run away, but it’s out of habit at this point; he has no actual intention of leaving.) On Ricky’s 13th birthday, Bella sings a corny song in his honor on her xylophone and Ricky joins in, loudly, proudly. Later, she gives him a dog, which he names Tupac, after his hero, Tupac Shakur.
Once Bella is out of the picture, Hec wants to give Ricky back to social services, so Ricky ineptly stages a suicide (he burns the barn down, but neglects to realize that the Ricky effigy he leaves behind is flame retardant) and runs to the bush. Hec finds him, easily, and the old man is about to take him back home when he falls and breaks his ankle. Suddenly the boy and his “Uncle Hec” (although Hec hates being called that) are forced to survive alone together, with child protective services on their heels.
I know. It sounds cutesy, but somehow, it’s not.That’s partly because, as played beautifully by Dennison, the funny, pop-culture-savvy, gangsta-wannabe Ricky is unlike any child we’ve ever seen in a film. As for the prickly Hec, he warms up to Ricky but it takes a long time—and even then, there are no overt displays of affection.
The absurdist humor emerges in the form of Paula, who is a kind of child protective services version of Inspector Javert, and the strange characters Hec and Ricky encounter in the bush—including a trio of dim-witted hunters; a lunatic who literally dresses like a bush; and a father and daughter who are thrilled to have the famous fugitive Ricky Baker in their midst (they take selfies with him). (Another ongoing gag: Ricky Baker is always referenced by his full name, without explanation.)
Hunt for the Wilderpeople is an absolute blast—original and memorable and irresistible, from start to finish. It promises to warm the heart of even the most curmudgeonly Hec in your life.
No comments:
Post a Comment