Review: The Rover

Narratively lean yet cinematographically lush, The Rover is a chamber piece set in an expansive location. This and that happens with little to no meaning. "Not everything has to be about something," one character remarks. "Everything you're about to do is entirely meaningless," says another. While this approach may frustrate at times, there is a great deal to admire about David Michôd's sophomore effort.

Firstly, cinematographer Natasha Braier's impressive compositions. The framing and pacing of camera movement combine for some indelible images: Guy Pearce's man with no name sitting barside at some near-deserted dive, registering no reaction as a vehicle skids past the window like some cranked up tumbleweed; the slow advance of Pearce's truck as he stares down the trio of bandits who survived the earlier car accident and stole his car; Robert Pattinson as Rey, brother to one of the bandits, singing along to Keri Hilson's "Pretty Girl Rock," his face the only thing to hold on in the surrounding darkness.

Pearce and Pattinson team up to track down the bandits and retrieve Pearce's car, encountering hardened oddballs as they traverse Australia's arid landscape. Set ten years after the collapse, most of the quirks seem devoid of something - humanity, morality? Perhaps the collapse was spiritual? Economic? Michôd and co-screenwriter Joel Edgerton certainly don't provide the answers. They even feel like figments of Pearce's imagination, people who cease to exist literally and metaphorically once they're out of his eyeline.

Pearce is reliably riveting as ever - his loner is dogged, determined and singleminded. Something has been taken from him and he wants it back. That's it. This is a man who withholds. "I was a farmer and now I'm here" is about the only explanation he offers. Pearce's performance is a master class in stillness - note the two extended close-ups that bookend the film; he conveys so much with so little.

By contrast, Pattinson's Rey - very much Lenny to Pearce's George - can barely contain himself: his limbs in constant motion, words spilling out of his mouth before the thought even completes in his head. There's something quite alien about Pattinson here, as if Rey has just landed from another planet and is still in the process of formation. It's a remarkable job, another solid building block in his post-Twilight career.

Mostly eschewing sentiment (the ending may suggest otherwise, but I prefer to view it as a prime example of the film's black humour), Michôd adheres to his bleak, nihilistic vision. There are plausibility issues - why don't the bandits just shoot Pearce - and interest may drift during the film's middle section. Regardless, Michôd is an undeniable talent delivering in The Rover a moody, mean and mesmerising meander.

The Rover

Directed by: David Michôd

Written by: David Michôd, Joel Edgerton

Starring: Guy Pearce, Robert Pattinson, Scott McNairy, Gillian Jacobs