I think Rob Sitch needs a hug. And not because he’s unhappy.

After creating another unseen masterpiece, The Castle, back in 1997 (though it didn’t reach stateside shores until last year), those who may have been paying proper attention would have anticipated Sitch’s next film with a great fervor. After dabbling in television as a writer and actor, Sitch’s first film, The Castle, was an immensely popular film in his native land of Australia, and rightly so, being an immensely charming, grounded film with an enjoyably wry sense of humor. And he made that film entertaining without the help of glorified production values or huge stars, a testament to him and his crew. It was reminiscent of an Oz version of Clerks, almost belittling itself with a perceptibly low-budget operation, but possessing a personality so witty and dead-on that a viewer couldn’t help but be ensconced in the experience.

The Dish garnered only a brief, limited release stateside after breaking box office records in its’ native land, per typical American studio prerogative, who virtually ignore foreign films unless they have the word “Crouching” (and floating dollar signs) in the title. The few wise souls that bothered to take notice during its’ run in America took critics’ advice (which was almost unanimously positive), and were pleasantly surprised with what they saw, a charismatic, dry-witted comedy that passed with flying colors despite the lack of American plot staples, your typical gross-out humor or CGI-induced action sequences. The Dish had neither of those, yet somehow managed (but how, Michael Bay?) to be maybe the most straight-up enjoyable film I’ve seen all year. The lack of the gratuitous “stoopid” humor and big explosions may have set it in my good graces almost by default, but the film seems to flow by itself on all cylinders from beginning to end, with no qualms about its’ simple nature.

Americans have seen their versions of patriotic films in recent years, like The Patriot, Armageddon, Independence Day, or even last years’ Remember The Titans, which nearly drowned in its’ own self-worth. Remember, racism is b-a-d. Films like these beat us over the head with the silly glorification of American infallibility, just long enough for us to forget about the likes of Bill Clinton, Howard Stern, MTV, and Jerry Springer. Us? Vulnerable? The divinely blessed United States of America? Nawwww, it couldn’t be. Michael Eisner told us so.

One trait that many worthy overseas films possess, however, is a refreshing lack of pretentiousness, a pretentiousness that tends to plague almost every American film these days with some crippling cultural insecurity. Instead of having some impractical plot twist or some puffed up hero save the day through some incredulous act, I find that, at a much more frequent rate, scripts from commendable foreign films rely less on “what could happen” and more on “what would happen.” This emphasis on human nature could be explained through the varying cultural attributes that different societies possess, but I find it unbelievable that Americans are that different from the rest of the civilized world. To me (your highly-esteemed armchair critic), the plot in a film like The Dish mirrors such a trend.


The Dish’s story (based on true events) revolves around the launch of Apollo 11 in 1969, though here we view it through the eyes of small-town Australia, a town filled with ordinary blokes who are not sure how to handle their newfound prominence on the world scene. That prominence is due to the town’s one great differentiating feature, an enormous radio transmitting dish that sets in the heart of a sheep pasture just outside the city limits. The dish’s esteemed head operator, and the new toast of Parkes, Australia, is Cliff Buxton (Sam Neill, in an pleasantly nuanced and solid performance), a veteran of the dish who brandishes a well-employed tobacco pipe when he gets the chance. His fellow geeks there are Mitch (Kevin Harrington), the tireless worker, and Glenn (Tom Long), the brainy university graduate who has the tingles for a local “dish,” Janine (Eliza Szonert). The bashful type, though, Glenn cowers in the corner like a scared puppy whenever Janine makes an appearance.

The boys are assisted on this mission by a NASA representative, Al Burnett (Patrick Warburton), an imposing but understated chap with the horn-rimmed glasses that all NASA employees in the ‘60s seemed to wear. He is our only big glimpse of anything reflecting American society, but he is portrayed in a surprisingly sympathetic, innocent light. The few jabs at America come through the scattered sarcastic remarks that pop up from time to time. Though quite funny, none are particularly caustic.

Parkes’ diplomatic emissary is the town’s distinguished mayor, Bob McIntyre (Roy Billing), a father of two whose daughter, Marie, is being politely stalked by one of the local Reserve boys, whose persistence seems to have overridden his common sense. In this case, “politely stalked” is an ironically accurate term. Mayor McIntyre, rather than have this boy castrated for coming near his daughter, plays along in a very neutral, humorous fashion, giving the young man enough space to pursue her until he would eventually figure out that she didn’t fancy him the same way. Hopefully.

The dish held such great celebrity in the Apollo 11 mission because it was the only station in the Southern Hemisphere capable of receiving signals from a lunar-bound Apollo 11. Wanting their voice heard on-site, NASA sent Burnett to help, and give the Australians an opinion from the American end of the issue. The soft-spoken Al, in a subtle fashion that echoes the film’s general ambiance, becomes amused with the Aussies’ way of life and eventually becomes accepted like any other member of the community, despite his role as the American emissary.

When problems arise at the dish during the mission’s key turning points (and you see how they became key turning points), the ordinary guys who run the dish are forced to make some extraordinary decisions, decisions that would normally certainly be over the head of people like them. This time, the pressure to make the call AND get the American rep to agree with them falls on their shoulders, with some unexpected but eminently humorous results that suggests some of the great culture clash between the two nations.


Director Sitch penned the script with the help of Santo Cilauro, Tom Gleisner, and Jane Kennedy, who also assisted him in writing The Castle. The themes that made The Castle so enjoyable are also present here, a definitively human touch that makes the characters on-screen so easy to relate with. The humor is gentle, but possesses the same punch of any over-the-top gag, due to some great timing or an effective setup. The dialogue isn’t horribly clever (e.g. a David Mamet), but it accurately shows the nature of such a simple town.

Sam Neill and Patrick Warburton are the film’s only name actors (and even Warburton is a stretch for some), but the performances in The Dish are universally superb. Neill, as the dish’s sweater-donning elder statesman, moves away from his dramatic roots (The Horse Whisperer, The Piano) as well as his commercial successes (Jurassic Park 1 & 3), but finds middle ground with his performance here. The supporters are also enjoyable as the fellow townsfolk, Long and Billing offering some great subtle comedic moments. Warburton, as the film’s lone American actor, gives his Burnett character an extra dimension, a kind, caring man that belied his role in the mission, even to the point of trusting his Australian cohorts more than his bosses.

Sitch has shown a gift in his two films for charming, amiable comedy, letting the actors perform without the hindrance of any outside influence. His characters are people you would like to be friends with, funny, simple, and great to be around. His suburban family in The Castle is similar to many of the families we see in The Dish, Sitch having grown up in suburban Melbourne. These people have their own unique way of life, one that contrasts with the life of someone who might live in the city. These are people that feel comfortable with the life that they live, so when they’re thrust into the world’s spotlight, they choose to accept it, but not become fully caught up in it, showing a great sense of pride and respect for what they do.


I haven’t been to a movie theatre in almost a month and a half, but I’ve seen the year’s most magnetic, accessible comedy despite it. The Dish lacks very little, and possesses a goofy, unique quality all its’ own, making for a fully enjoyable film experience that you would have to be in a coma not to enjoy. I’ve yapped a zillion times about how comedies today prefer to pander to the audience rather than letting the audience come to it, but The Dish is a film that breaks the mold, telling a unique, humorous tale without a crop of unrealism.

OVERALL GRADE: A





Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: DVD
Video Occasion: Fit for Friday Evening
Suitability For Children: Suitable for Children up Ages 8
Special Effects: Well at least you can't see the strings