Rachel Ward’s latest film, which opened the Sydney film festival, groans with affluence but lacks in urgency
Countless films and TV shows present a group of friends or family who are rattled by the airing of a long-held grievance, or the sudden announcement of a skeleton in the closet. I have seen so many of these films that in real-life gatherings I find myself wishing from time to time that somebody will drop a bombshell while refilling their drink or passing the salt shaker. The declaration of a torrid love affair from long ago, for instance, or the disclosure of a secret criminal past, or even just who left the gate open and let the dog out.
In the director Rachel Ward’s Palm Beach, which tells a story (co-written by Ward and playwright Joanna Murray-Smith) involving good friends and old secrets, we are reminded why such situations work so well in drama. They tend to involve tangled-web-we-weave backstories, ethical dilemmas, conflicting perceptions of right and wrong, and moments when complicated feelings are brought to a head.
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