As we know from having had our senses pounded by various glitter-filled, hyperactive and blindingly bright spectacles, Baz Luhrmann’s films don’t talk – they shout. The Sydney-born auteur practises a film-making ethos he and veteran editor Jill Billcock (who cut his first three films: the “red curtain trilogy”) sagely described as “frame fucking”.
Luhrmann is a polarising director, as everybody and their dog have pointed out. The trick to making sense of Luhrmann is to understand that he doesn’t really consciously manipulate, or even necessarily believe in, subtext. Everything is always on the surface. There are broad, agreed upon meanings – for instance, Romeo + Juliet and his new film Elvis are obviously tragedies. Problems arise when his work cries out for considered layering of themes and messages, only for viewers to discover there is always little under the bonnet.
