Urban redevelopment isn’t exactly the first subject that springs to mind as the most compelling for a mainstream drama. But in the early 80’s a young Australian director, Phillip Noyce, on back of his widely-lauded debut Newsfront (1978), was putting the finishing touches to just such a project, one that would cement his reputation as one of this country’s more gifted young filmmakers. Heatwave, a mature and even-handed portrayal of a topical issue of the time, would cleverly straddle a gossamer thread of moral inquiry as it probed the threat of progress upon residents whose expectation of ownership had become a tentative, arbitrary notion against the onslaught of the almighty dollar.

It’s nearly Christmas in Sydney and the city is suffering through stifling conditions. Tensions are fraying in a housing development where residents must daily confront the unsubtle overtures of a huge corporate entity. Mega-rich developer Peter Houseman (Chris Haywood) is the instigator, intent on bringing his ultimate project to fruition; named Eden, it’s been envisaged as a state-of-the-art monolith and replacement for the existent ugly, decaying structures.

A promising young architect, Stephen West (Richard Moir, in a career highpoint), has been tasked with designing Eden. At first he gives the impression of being Houseman’s lackey, the kind of guy who rigidly knuckles down to his duty, divorcing himself from any ramifications on a human level. But as his contact with the residents group increases - and in particular their spokesperson Kate Dean (Judy Davis) whose single-mindedness seems to mirror a drive within him - he’s reluctantly converted, pondering the debate in a different light and the enormity of his own role in what may transpire.

Soon, West finds himself sinuously drawn deeper into a moral quagmire; an idealist used to complicating his life no more than his vocation requires, he’s torn between duty to those who enable his artistic vision to flourish, and compromising in a way that demeans his integrity whilst putting the stable lives of ordinary people in jeopardy. Noyce and co-writer Marc Rosenberg’s balancing act with the various strands needed to be perfectly judged, and the strength of the interesting range of subplots only enhances the film’s credibility. Even peripheral characters take distinct shape from what appear to be sketchy outlines, including the vainglorious Houseman who’s never demonized; yes, he may be responsible for underhanded manipulation to maximum his interests, even shafting an allay or two in the process, but his portrayal as a family man doesn’t strip him of all humanity.

As expected, Davis brings a fierce intelligence to the role of a passionate, determined woman stranded on constantly shifting sands. Kate’s an agitator, one very adept at evoking antipathy from her opposition too, but she recognizes the spark of humanity in West, in his pricked conscience, and a believable bond forms between them. This further unnecessarily complicates the life of West, whose wife Victoria (Anna Maria Monticelli) is gently pushing him to accede to higher powers, sealing him in a tight corner, his allegiances wavering on an indistinct middle ground.

Besides being, on one level, an enthralling dramatic representation of events, Heatwave is a real mood piece. Of most significance is how Noyce skillfully sustains its immersive pitch throughout. Much of this is attributable to the oppressive conditions which literally colour every frame. The way Noyce and his cinematographer Vincent Monton approach the elemental forces ensures the unbearable heat becomes an influential character in its own right, most explicitly in the orange pall cast by a judicious choice of lenses, and possibly manipulated further in post-production. Every brow is spotted with beads of perspiration, a collision of passions, tempers and underhanded deals grinding against the city’s withering slow-motion meltdown. There’s a palpable friction that you feel can only be resolved with the total annihilation of one side or the other, and yet there’s no simple reduction of good versus evil in a film that leaves uneasy questions in the balance until the very end. The atonal ambience of Cameron Allan’s score is a less blatant, but equally effective element, working like an itch under your skin that you can’t quite get at. Combined with lingering shots, often of West’s face as his moral dilemma intensifies, it imbues the film with a dreamy, indefinable magnetism.

When the release of rain finally, and blessedly, arrives on New Year’s Eve, the drama likewise reaches fever pitch, tensions and repercussions playing out alongside revelations with the weight to destroy powerful lives. Tragically, Eden is revealed as symbolic of a suburban perfection that can never be attained, rendering it ironically doomed. The very last shot of the film is telling in its simplicity: despite the downpour, nothing is truly cleansed from the tainted fabric of this city, for even as the torrents scream down from above, another body rises to the surface from the muddy underbelly. Admittedly, Heatwave does overreach in what is a problematic tying-up of loose ends in a faintly false, over-the-top way. Though the resolution could have been handled with a bit more subtlety perhaps, it hardly takes the sheen off an otherwise outstanding film - one of the best of its time.

Review by Luke Buckmaster

Director: Phillip Noyce