Viewport width =
July 30, 2007 | by  | in Film |
Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

The Unpolished

Pia Marais’ debut film The Unpolished is not so much a snapshot of an idyllic, rambling childhood summer gone slightly awry as an exercise in terrible parenting. Fourteen-year-old Stevie (played brilliantly by Ceci Chuh) lives with her junkie mother, her fresh out of jail father (the almost endearingly deadbeat Birol Ünel from Head On) and an assortment of other hippies, losers and transients in an abandoned house in provincial Germany.

Stevie attempts to live on the verge of normality, telling her friends that her parents are absent diplomats and gluing her family’s heads onto a ‘normal’ family photo. But it is a task too difficult when the things she regularly witnesses include her mother blissfully high and her father intermittently having sex with a nutjob model and building a horse trailer so he can transport drugs around Europe without attracting suspicion. It is amazing that Stevie is as grounded as she is. At the same time, and perhaps this is because of the sheer patience of the film, there is still something oddly seductive about the beautiful weather and halcyon setting, where no one really does anything. Marais isn’t giving any answers or even asking many questions; this is simply a summer in Stevie’s life from which we are left to draw our own conclusions.

PIA MARAIS

Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

About the Author ()

Comments are closed.

Recent posts

  1. In NZ.
  2. The Party Line ~ Issue 04
  3. Mental Health Wānanga Celebrates Work, Looks to the Future
  4. Sustainability on Salamanca: VUW working on environmental impact
  5. Basin Reserve Vigil: Wellington Stands with Mosque Attack Victims
  6. Mosque Terror Attacks: The Government Responds
  7. Issue 04 ~ Peace
  8. Law School Apparently Not Good at Following Rules
  9. Wellington Central Library closed indefinitely
  10. School Climate Strike Draws Thousands

Editor's Pick

In NZ.

: When my mother gave me my name, it was a name she couldn’t pronounce. The harsh accents of the Arabic language eluded the Pākehā tongue. Growing up, I always felt more comfortable introducing myself as she knew me—Mah-dee or Ma-ha-dee—just about anything that made me feel