The Castle is the debut film for the writing team of Rob Sitch, Tom Gleisner, Santo Cilauro, and Jane Kennedy, who will be familiar to Australian audiences for their television work. The four were writers and performers as part of the Melbourne comedy outfit The D-Generation, and after that group achieved its ultimate form (in all senses of the word) on the much missed "Late Show," they went on to the current affairs satire "Frontline" (known in some countries overseas, apparently, as "Behind the Frontline"). That was an excellent show, if occasionally overly preachy and shy about admitting its obvious indebtedness to America's "The Larry Sanders Show." (Ironically, I remember seeing one report here attack "Larry Sanders" as nothing but a "Frontline" rip-off). By this time, the group had established themselves as a miniature production company, maintaining extremely tight creative control. On "Frontline," three of the four played major roles in addition to their writing; all of them directed episodes, and Cilauro took charge of the camerawork. Such tight supervision (and reluctance to surrender any creative processes to outsiders) is a double-edged sword, as it may be accompanied by an insular refusal to acknowledge problems. Certainly "Frontline," in its last season or so, occasionally seemed unable to diagnose and correct its faults.

It was therefore a pleasure to find the group doing such fine work in The Castle. The film tells the story of the Kerrigans, a working class family in the northwest suburbs of Melbourne (it says something about Australian society, however, that the family is shown to own five cars, a boat, and a holiday house, and still be understood to be working class). They live directly adjacent to Tullamarine airport, but can't understand why they got their house so cheap; to them, the modest little home is a castle. When the airport wants to expand, however, their home is subject to a compulsory acquisition order. The Kerrigans, led by Daryl Kerrigan (Michael Caton) decide to fight, eventually taking their case to the High Court in Canberra. As a TV report puts it late in the film, it's "Daryl versus Goliath."

The comedy in the film comes from the contrast between the naive, uneducated Kerrigans (if they lived in the country, you'd call them "down to earth") and the smug, upscale lawyers and judges they come up against. Sitch and co spend a long time establishing the family, and this material skates on thin ice with its apparent mockery of the working class Australian. Yet the tone is maintained beautifully, and it becomes clear that the Frontline team genuinely like their heroes. Sitch has claimed in interviews that much of Daryl Kerrigan's behaviour is modelled on his own father, and it becomes clear that The Castle is not intended as a joke on other people: we're supposed to recognise ourselves in the Kerrigans, whatever our background. Much of what we laugh at in The Castle is found in Australians of all backgrounds: the incessant scanning of the Trading Post ("Now what would you want with a pair of jousting sticks?"), the obsessive multiple car ownership, the sports mania, even the briefly glimpsed Ug boots. This self-deprecation (like the disdain for authority figures) is such an Australian theme that it is likely to puzzle any overseas audiences (as will culturally specific references such as the allusions to the Mabo case). Fortunately, The Castle has been such a hit on home soil that it will not need any cross-over success in overseas markets.

Sitch's direction is appropriately actor oriented: this is not a technically impressive venture. The hand-held look used to create a cinema verite look on "Frontline" has wisely been abandoned, replaced by a bare bones, unobtrusive style. Shot in eleven days, this is the kind of film where a pan comes across as a major cinematic innovation. It is, therefore, the cast that really sell the material: all the actors portraying the Kerrigans are great, with Caton a stand-out. Tiriel Mora, a "Frontline" veteran, is appropriately harried as the well-intentioned but inexperienced lawyer (asked what section of the Constitution his case is based on, he responds "ah... it's just the vibe.") Many other familiar faces from Australian films and TV turn up in the supporting cast: Charles (Bud) Tingwell plays the kindly QC who steps in at the Kerrigan's direst hour; Sophie Lee plays the Kerrigan's oldest daughter; Eric Bana is her new husband; and Bryan Dawe plays one of the opposing lawyers. John Flaus, Lynda Gibson, and Tony Martin (as Bud Tingwell's son!) turn up in cameo appearances. As far as I could detect, none of Sitch, Gleisner, Kennedy or Cilauro made so much as a walk-on, though a news reporter's voice heard late in the piece sounds suspiciously like Kennedy.

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For more about the "Late Show" cast, plus some additional comments on The Castle and it's follow-up The Dish, see my review of Tony Martin's Bad Eggs here.