So Simple, So Different - the Magic of Ten Canoes

by Memo Salazar

I hate trailers. Like the stuff on the back cover of a novel, they’re usually little more than poorly-crafted commercials that give away way too much, doing a disservice to all the crafting done by the writer. Why people love clicking their way to that apple quicktime movie trailer page, just so they can have story after story ruined before them is beyond me. What’s the point of watching a mystery thriller, for example, when most of the “twists” were revealed to you in 2 minutes? And these trailers- oy! Like today’s movie posters, they are about as generic as possible, all featuring the same voice, narrative structure and music running underneath (Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana, in case you were wondering.) I try to avoid these little gremlins as much as possible, purposely arriving late to movies (not easy to do in New York) or by hitting fast-forward on the dvd player a hundred times, but sometimes, there’s no way around it- you just have to buckle down and watch. As far as I can remember, there’s only been 3 trailers that have caught my fancy: The Minus Man, who’s incredibly clever trailer was worthy of an incredibly clever film; Buffalo ‘66, which I still haven’t seen but gave us a trailer teetering between pretentious and ballsy by mixing a bunch of frozen movie images to Yes’ Heart of the Sunrise… and the trailer for Ten Canoes, which was so, so different from anything I’ve seen in its approach and subject matter that I just HAD to watch the movie.

Well, I just did, and I’m still not sure how to convey what an amazing film this is. On one level, it is a story within a story, the first story taking place many generations ago. A younger brother (Dayindi) covets one of his older brother (Minygululu)’s wives. Had this taken place in Biblical times, there’d probably be a lot of revenge and killing and violent jealousy, but that is not the way of the Yolngu people from the Arnhem Land we know as Northern Australia. Their way is much simpler- they teach each other lessons via stories, some of which might take a long, long time to tell before the meaning is revealed. And so Minygululu begins to tell Dayindi a story, one from a long, long time ago. It is a long story, but they’ve got a lot of time to kill while they build their ten canoes and go goose egg hunting, which is pretty much what life consists of for these men. In case you’re wondering, no, the plot doesn’t have much in common with Spider-Man 3. Instead of two ridiculous villains, we’re treated to two beautiful stories- the one told by Minygululu and the one of Minygululu and his people. To help us Westerners get into this meandering, unhurried approach, the film uses two simple, but perfectly-executed devices. First, it intercuts between black-and-white and color images, instantly letting us know which “story” we’re currently on. Second, it’s narrated by David Gulpilil, Hollywood’s favorite Aboriginal actor (from Walkabout to Crocodile Dundee, he’s our go-to guy!) Gulpilil casually narrates the film, thereby cutting down on the number of subtitles we have to read, explaining the Yolngu ways to us moderns, and periodically giving us a progress report on the narrative (”don’t worry- the story is almost finished now,” he reassures us.) His warm, soothing voice tears down all the A.D.D.-derived expectations lurking in our sophisticated minds, bringing us back to the essence of story and myth. It’s so brilliantly executed, I doubt few viewers will really appreciate what an amazing feat this film pulls: it manages to make a story about some guys going goose egg hunting accessible to Americans. Goose eggs, folks. Goose eggs, honey, and canoes.

But wait- there’s more! As great as this film is, the story behind the film is just as fascinating. Get this: director Rolf de Heer had worked with David Gulpilil on his previous film, The Tracker. At some point, Gulpilil invites the guy over for dinner with his family, showing off his ancestral surroundings. De Heer digs what he sees, and they begin chatting about a film based on Gulpilil’s people. A few years later, de Heer rekindles this idea, brainstorming on what, exactly, such a movie would be about. David Gulpilil comes to him one morning and says “yo, Rolf, we need ten canoes.” De Heer gives him a confused look, so Gulpilil whips out this amazing photograph of ten men in canoes on a swamp, taken some 70 years ago by an anthropologist named Donald Thompson. De Heer gets it right away. This is the movie.

Donald Thompson spent several months with the Yolngu during the 1930’s, studying and photographing every aspect of their life. This was a time when the modern world hadn’t shoved its fist up the ass of every culture that’s out there, which means the Yolngu were still living the same way they had been living for centuries. Thompson’s photographs are an amazingly cinematic portrait of a unique group of people who’s lifestyle no longer exists, but will forever be captured in these pictures… and now, as well, in this film. You see, the stars of Ten Canoes are the direct descendants of the people in the photographs (this is how the film was cast.) These days, they don’t build canoes- they drive off-road trucks, watch TV, and hunt with guns instead of spears, so to get this film done right, everyone had to dig deep and get in touch with a cultural past that only the eldest of the Yolngu could remember. Using the Thompson photos as a starting point, the men built the ten canoes in the movie just like their ancestors had, stripping the bark from trees and… well, you’ll see the whole process when you watch the movie. The women, in turn, built the huts and body decorations just as their ancestors had. The film process served as a catalyst for the revival of a culture that had almost vanished, a revival that continues on today. Thanks to Ten Canoes, there are now a bunch of educational and cultural projects revolving around the Yolngu and their ways- but, more importantly, the Yolngu themselves have been forever changed by a film that shows the world the beauty of their unique lives, traditions and culture. Ten Canoes is an acknowledgment of their contribution to the Human Story; concrete evidence of their identity that they can hold up to future generations as a reminder of a wonderful way of life that’s uniquely theirs. How often does a simple movie accomplish all that?

For the rest of us reading these words on a computer somewhere, Ten Canoes lets us disconnect from the matrix for a couple of hours and reconnect with a common truth that we all know, deep inside, still lurks. For all our ipods and novelty ring tones, we’re definitely not any happier (and way more neurotic) than the Yolngu ever were, a fact we should keep in mind as we deplete the world’s resources in search of more toys that keep us from getting bored. In this light, a little goose egg hunting starts to make a shitload of sense.