“I am an Indigenous artist. I could get rid of the art. I could be a plumber or an electrician. But I can’t just wash away being Indigenous and I wouldn’t want to. And it’s all art to me.”
Applauded filmmaker, screenwriter and cinematographer [1] “Kaytetye man” [2] Warwick Thornton has done it again with a visually and narratively arresting bang. Less is More in this flawless sequel to “blistering neo-western” [3] Sweet Country (2017) [4]. Shot on location in his native Alice Springs [5] and the Central Desert (NT), [6] Wolfram – nominated for a Golden Bear at the 76th Berlinale and recipient of the 2026 Chauvel Award at the Gold Coast Film Festival [7] – is an act of Acknowledgement to the director’s own country; a meaningful acknowledgement that is ‘the real deal’ [8] and where Thornton completes and steers his episodic four-part narrative, with several parallel interconnecting storylines at times told through atmospheric vignetting in this impressive minimal cinema, in a new direction and gradually towards its grand humane finale.
Once again drawing on the Western as a highly effective genre, Thornton pays special tribute to, literally, Red Hot Earth or the Red Centre of Australia in a story that becomes a part of the larger history of indigenous trauma – and colonial guilt, for that matter. The rugged landscape of the Northern Territory, a veritable world onto its own, forms a perfect backdrop to the brutal realism of the (screened) acts about to unfold.
Never-ending atrocities and human cruelty that knows no bounds lead to a heightened sense of – on and off-screen – malaise. But the harshness of man is in no way equivalent to the untamed beauty of the stunning scenery; with arid plains, deep chasms, and rocky gorges. There is nothing remarkable about structural abuse at a time when everyone and everything is up for grabs (“They took me”, “We found this one!”, “We should train this one to be like your half-breed”).
Man is pictured against an alternatively glowing, alternativity dark open sky in, likewise, “adventure”[9] and “drama” Wolfram where Thornton highlights the severity of crimes perpetrated often with the sun as the only witness; a veritable orgy of violence that is either suggested or portrayed through extreme closeups and where BUNYA Productions stands for a masterful soundscape: “The absence of a traditional score – replaced by the eerie, tactile sound of Charlie Barker’s saw – only deepens the atmosphere, giving the film an almost ghostly resonance.”[10] [11]
In Wolfram (the archaic word for tungsten) [12], (wo)man is but a small silhouette on the horizon in the scenic vastness of it all, but ‘his’ damage done is irreversible and leaves a long shadow. Scars on the soul of the motherland. A terra nullius or ‘no man’s land’ that was always a home for its first peoples but who were strangers to the European idea of ownership [13] (and, one might add, the occupier was as much a stranger in this strange land). [14] Scorched earth under a scorching sun [15], stagnant water, still air, un-sheltering skies and unforgiving situations. A long history of unfathomable abuse of black fella by white fella. Australia in the 1930s. 30 years later and few lessons learnt.
The claim that Aboriginals were included under ‘Flora and Fauna’ in the 1960s may since have been debunked as a myth [16]: “It is sometimes stated that the 1967 Referendum overturned a ‘Flora and Fauna Act’. This supposed act classed Aboriginal people alongside native Australian flora and fauna. … While no such act ever existed, the New South Wales National Parks and Wildlife Act 1974 may have encouraged this belief. This Act gave the NSW government control over Aboriginal heritage and landscape. … In addition, some states did manage Aboriginal affairs through departments that also looked after flora and fauna.”[17]
And yet, Aboriginal Australians were hardly considered human beings in a vast land of superior whiteness where a public apology for the stolen generations [18], the abused generations (Richard Flanagan gives harrowing history a face in Wanting, 2008), and the largely still invisible generations was not formally issued until 2008 (Rudd’s predecessor John Howard famously/notoriously claimed that there was “nothing too say” or feel sorry for and non-intergenerational guilt or a practical reconciliation were the going catch words reflecting settler atonement and redemption [19]).
In Wolfram, few words are spoken but regular flashbacks provide all the summative details we require in a story told in ‘completing fragments’ (or through ‘sign language’ – as the last method of a mother forcefully separated from her children to communicate with her stolen ‘sons’). Thornton gives a sweeping yet graphic commentary on his people’s plight, killed for the sake of killing and being killed. His micronarrative inspired by real events becomes the story of the larger narrative of Australia (and, in a significant twist to the story that bears modern relevance, about ‘ethnic subgroups’ helping each other). [20]
The ‘Abo’, forever outcast in his own country – until (at least in Wolfram) no more. As earth itself holds an eternal breath, everything seems to have come to a standstill and the stagnation is complete. Thornton transports us seamlessly to a setting where lawlessness rules the game and we enter a cycle of male violence and misogyny; a human pecking order where the black fella caught stealing ribs, and who was already practically part of ‘the family’ (“I’m no dingo”), is taken away only to soon himself be reduced to a heap of burning ashes. [21] Eye for an eye.
At a time when the migrant experience gathers momentum, Thornton focuses on those who were already here, and the place itself. As he enters a larger discourse of ownership and us versus them, his film carries larger symbolic significance.
Fittingly released in good time for Australian Mother’s Day (10 May), the enduring legacy of Wolfram lies in its tribute to the strength of the female spirit. In this significant filmic contribution by Warwick Thornton, woman becomes an intuitive counterforce to male brutes who don’t deserve to enjoy the gift of being alive, and the maternal element is a running theme throughout. [22]
Wolfram is now screening at cinemas across Australia. Don’t miss it – and make sure you are on the RIGHT side of history.
Warwick Thornton’s Wolfram – a striking tribute to female resilience and solidarity
Words: Dr Jytte Holmqvist
Images: Wolfram (film stills) – courtesy of Bunya Productions
Footnotes:
[1] See: www.hollywoodreporter.com
[4] Less directly violent, racially concerned Samson and Delilah likewise showed the extent of colonial damage and its effect on anyone aspiring for more yet lacking everything (apart from a natural home to call home).
[5] Now tragically in the news; with Aboriginal communities demanding payback: www.abc.net.au and www.bbc.com
[6] Wolfram “mirrors the ‘visceral tone and style’ of Sweet Country and is shot on the same locations where the sets for the fictional town of Henry from the original film still stand.” www.screenhub.com.au
[7] www.cinemaaustralia.com.au The film is funded by Screen Australia, in association with Screen Territory, NITV, Screen NSW, and the Adelaide Film Festival Investment Fund.
[8] “Resilience against racism, the good against the bad and the ugly. Welcome to country. Lest we forget.”: www.sydneyartsguide.com.au
[9] This to please, appease and appeal to banal audiences in need of labels and labelling.
[11] The production team also collaborated with Arrernte Traditional Owners, led by elder Theresa Ellis: www.screenhub.com.au
[12] “Aboriginal children are forced into ‘wolfram’ mining until violence entangles them with ruthless outlaws”: www.alicesprings.nt.gov.au Also see: www.australianbookreview.com.au
[13] “Our story is in the land … it is written in those sacred places. My children will look after those places, that’s the law. Dreaming place … you can’t change it no matter who you are. No matter you rich man, no matter you King. You can’t change it … Rock stays, earth stays. I die and put my bones in cave or earth. Soon my bones become earth…all the same. My spirit has gone back to my country … my mother”: www.abc.net.au
[14] Niclas Månsson writes that “[Zygmunt] Bauman’s stranger is the stranger ante-portas (at the gate) and represents all individuals and groups who are denied their rightful access to society”. This could, in the context of Australia, be applied to the Aboriginal conundrum: www.brill.com
[15] “The sense of oppressive heat is palpable in lens flares that sometimes engulf the entire screen, and in the constant buzz of flies, sometimes seen in dense swarms, making for an intense quasi-tactile experience.” www.screendaily.com
[16] See: www.abc.net.au
[18] According to Ingrid Piller, ”[t]oday it is hard to imagine anyone not being moved by the cruelty of the practice and the suffering inflicted on the Stolen Generations, their families and communities. At the same time, it is also apparent from the records that many of the white colonial officials behind the policy and implementation of forced removal actually believed they were ‘doing the right thing’. This was because they were incapable of conceiving of Aboriginal family relationships as valid, healthy and nurturing.” (Intercultural Communication: A Critical Introduction, 2025).
[19] “I have said that I’m very sorry for the injustices that were visited upon Aboriginal people in the past. As an Australian I know that they were treated very badly indeed. But I do not think that the current generation of Australians who are not involved in that should accept responsibility for it”: www.smh.com.au For a more nuanced understanding, see: www.pmtranscripts.pmc.gov.au
[21] This particularly distressing scene is forever etched into our conscience. Stealing is a recurring theme in Thornton’s cinema and here the metaphor is taken to the extreme, in parallel with the act of stealing children.
[22] Thornton explains his ‘redemptive anti-western’ in an interview with the ABC: “There is a future and redemption, some form of safety in Wolfram, and that was important. It’s an antidote to the poison you take from watching Sweet Country.”: www.abc.net.au