Judy & Punch

[SPOILER ALERT: This review contains spoilers.]

A fascinating socio-political study of proto-feminism mixed with dark comedy The debut feature from actress turned writer/director Mirrah Foulkes, Judy & Punch is a darkly comic study in proto-feminism, a strange mixture of Monty Python-esque slapstick and serious social critique, wrapping it all up in an anachronistic and pseudo-magical realist aesthetic. It's a mix that shouldn't work, and, for many, it won't - some will find the tonal balance too skewered towards socio-political protest to work as comedy, others will argue the comic elements undermine the socio-political agenda. For me, I thought Foulkes just about got away with it, helped immeasurably by strong performances and a stunning visual design. In the English countryside town of Seaside (nowhere near the sea), Judy (Mia Wasikowska) and Punch (Damon Herriman) are a young couple with an infant child. The creators of the Punch & Judy puppet show, Judy is by far the more talented puppeteer, but Punch is a natural showman and a master of self-promotion. Although his inability to control his drinking has led to the show's reputation waning, when he hears that a talent-scout is in the area, he determines to curb his drinking. However, when Punch responds to a horrifying accident by viciously beating Judy, she embarks upon a mission of vengeance. Judy & Punch is, at least in part, another entry in a subgenre we're seeing more and more of in recent years – gynocentric revenge films directed by women; Coralie Fargeat's Revenge and Jennifer Kent's The Nightingale both spring to mind, but you could also include something like Isabella Eklöf's disturbing Holiday, which is a **** drama without the revenge. Given the title, you know from the get-go that the film isn't going to be thematically subtle. Apart from the town's meek constable Derrick (Benedict Hardie) and Scaramouche (Terry Norris), the senile husband of Maude (Brenda Palmer), Judy and Punch's elderly maid, literally every man in the film is a violent misogynistic thug. I don't bring this up by way of criticism, merely to illustrate that the film wears its themes, very proudly, on its sleeve. The Punch & Judy show itself, which invariably involves Punch beating Judy with a stick (itself not exactly a subtle phallic stand-in), has never been especially coy about its own thematic tropes, so why should a film inverting those tropes be otherwise? One of Judy & Punch's most obvious strengths is the aesthetic, with its lush and vibrant milieu – a realm that's not quite fantasy, not quite historical reality. The town of Seaside, for all its vivid Renaissance-era squalor, is that of a fairy-tale allegory – the kind you'd expect to see terrorised by a werewolf or a giant. Production designer Josephine Ford's work is especially good, and one half-expects to see a gingerbread house in the background. Enhancing the surreality is the electronic score by François Tétaz, which has no place in a film of this time-period, but which works wonderfully with the stylistic trappings of Foulkes's weird anachronistic vibe. Equally important here is the dialogue, which is a mixture of period-correct diction and a more modern inflection. Put it this way – at one point, we see a group of characters in Renaissance costumes doing tai chi. If that sounds like something you'd find funny, you'll love this exceptionally-realised world. The acting is universally terrific. Hardie is terrific as the one good man in a town of troublemakers. But unlike the characters played by Clint Eastwood, Derrick has zero authority and no respect. However, despite his ineffectual nature, Hardie plays him as a completely straight-shooter with real interiority. Wasikowska's Judy isn't just a vehicle for feminist rhetoric, but is a capable and fierce woman in her own right. Herriman initially makes Punch seem contemptible, yet as the film goes on, he makes the character even less likeable. The film does, however, have some problems. For some, it will be too funny to work as feminist critique, and for others, too serious to work as comedy. Others still might argue it works as neither because it never fully commits to either. The narrative and dialogue are also extraordinarily on the nose on occasion. A few of the themes are also under-explored, including domestic violence, which seems to have been included as a plot point simply because it's an issue in the original show – Foulkes never really takes it anywhere. Nevertheless, I enjoyed Judy & Punch. A statement on oppression and female (re)assertion, it takes the best-known elements of a world-famous puppet show, and inverts them, turning an inherently misogynistic story into a celebration of early feminism. Allegorical in both visual and narrative design, it may be pantomime-esque, but so too is it compelling enough to turn what could have been dismissed as a nasty fairy-tale into a piece of work which is thematically relevant to the milieu in which we now reside.