A young aboriginal woman is murdered by a serial killer and dumped in a river feeding the massive hydro-electric damn in Jindabyne, Australia. That helps get the plot and metaphors rolling, ever so slowly, in this story about race, small-town life, marriage, personal demons, psychopathology ... well, you get the idea.
Directed by Aussie Lawrence—who shone with films like Lantana and Bliss—Jindabyne splays itself by trying to be too many things and succeeding at none. The film pegs itself on one main premise: Four men on a fishing trip find the woman’s body but decide to finish their baiting and bonding before reporting the cadaver. Might’ve worked. Didn’t. Instead, it’s like something Sam Shepard might’ve come up with if he was on deadline and had a bad migraine, with a little dash of Deliverance thrown in. (And if that comparison strikes you as odd, you’re actually getting the point here.)
Forward momentum is lacking and never compensated for with things like well-crafted character development—although Byrne (The Usual Suspects, End of Days) is outstanding in the movie’s only meaty role. Linney (Mystic River, The Exorcism of Emily Rose) neither lowers nor raises her stock as Byrne’s quasi-haunted wife as she runs around town trying to suture the racial divide her man has helped slam a wedge into.
There are some interesting moments as Byrne wrestles with his conscience and begins to fray rather badly in the process. But not nearly enough to engage the viewer for two pretty long hours. You’ll get some nice cinematography of the Australian landscape, and the occasional interesting moment (e.g. a couple of kids sacrificing the class pet), but if you’re looking for cohesion, you’re looking in the wrong place.