Written and Directed by Leah Purcell
Starring Leah Purcell, Sam Reid, Rob Collins, Jessica De Gou
Unrated
Runtime: 1 hour, 49 minutes
In theaters and digital August 19

by Ryan Silberstein, Managing Editor, Red Herring

As I delve deeper into westerns, my fondness for these movies, and my desire to explore every corner of the genre, has only grown. Based on a 1892 short story called “The Drover’s Wife,” The Legend of Molly Johnson could be described as a mirror to so many familiar western tropes. It meets the definition of the genre by any broad definition, but is told from an Indigenous female perspective and is set in Australia’s Snowy Mountains. The mix of familiar and novel elements feel purposeful as a method for broadening the scope of what most people think of westerns. There’s nothing like Clint Eastwood wearing a poncho and squinting into the sun, but there are familiar character types and visual elements throughout.

This story has become a passion project for writer, director, and star Leah Purcell. She previously adapted “The Drover’s Wife” into a play and then a novel, expanding the story–about a woman on the frontier protecting her children from a snake–and adding details from her Aboriginal heritage. 

Purcell has stated:

My DNA is within it. And I've sung up business on it. I sung up the play, I sung up the novel, I sung up the movie. And in cultural ways you have that thread of a Songline which connects you to country, to family, to culture.

That context is important not only for what it says about the intentions of the film’s auteur, but because it so clearly informs so much of the finished work. That verve resonates across Purcell’s script, her acting, and the choices she makes as director. 

The opening scene introduces the core elements: Molly (Purcell), her children, and the unforgiving landscape. These are the stakes as well as the recipe for what will make Molly Johnson worthy of the legendary epitaph. As Mark Wareham’s cinematography shows a landscape in golden hues, the wide shots reinforce not just the beauty of nature, but the isolation of Molly and her family. Every decision that Molly makes, with Purcell’s acting conveying so many emotions using only her face, reinforcing the potential immediate impact of her every move. The mix of independence and anxiety, her confidence in her decisions only growing to match her survivalist skill set, all of this is conveyed wordlessly.

While the direction of Molly’s story feels inevitable–the patriarchy doesn’t let divergence alone for long–that makes it no less emotional or relevant. There is a moment at the end that may feel trite to some viewers, but it is hard to begrudge Purcell underlining the film’s intersectional feminist message with all of the subtely of a flashing neon sign reading “this shit is still happening!” One reason it is important to have works of art depicting these points of view is to help us all internalize the message about all the terrible things that have and are still happening to women, Indigenous peoples, and others. During a second watch, I really want to dig into what Purcell is saying about maleness and violence, now that I have a grasp on the overall story.

The Legend of Molly Johnson is an impressive debut by any measure. While some of the other performers are unable to match Parcell’s command of the screen and the score’s use of electric guitar feels like an odd choice, these flaws are some of the only reminders that this is a debut. I am adding the novel to my (shelves-long) to-read list immediately. I am already eager to see where Leah Parcell goes from here and I look forward to learning more from her soon.