Little Fish

Little Fish is a nifty little Australian film about Tracy Hart, a video store clerk attempting to stay clean years after being introduced to heroin by her stepfather, but finding that her past indiscretions keep cropping up as roadblocks to her future. Unfortunately, the flick's also about a retiring kingpin and his shifty henchman and this subplot siphons off the dramatic tension from Tracy's struggle with sobriety, leading to a wan conclusion that attempts to tie loose story strands together but, instead, is too scattershot to have much dramatic impact.

In Requiem for a Dream, Ellen Burstyn perfectly portrayed a woman descending into the hell of drug addiction and, here, Cate Blanchett is nearly her equal as Tracy, a woman on the other side of that equation, ably juggling the despondency, discomfiture and, ultimately, the reluctant hope of a recovering junkie. Amazingly, though, she's one-upped by the brilliant Hugo Weaving (The Matrix), who delivers Oscar-worthy work as he totally immerses himself into the role of Lionel Dawson, Tracy's ex-stepfather, washed up rugby star, and nearly non-functioning addict. There are also some terrific turns by Martin Henderson (Bride and Prejudice) as Tracy's bedraggled bro and Noni Hazlehurst as Tracy's tormented mom, whom the gay Lionel uses as his beard.

The film is potent when it focuses on the family's emotional baggage, but writer Jacqueline Perske soon dilutes the drama, first with the introduction of Sam Neil's one-note heavy and, second, with the return of Tracy's shady ex-boyfriend from Vancouver. That said, director Rowan Woods (The Boys) and cinematographer Danny Ruhlmann make the most of location shooting in Sydney's "Little Saigon" neighborhood (where the film takes place), crafting drained, often intimate shots of the actors that reflect their characters' emotional states. And while the film's deliberate pacing is the opposite of Requiem's adrenalized cutting, it similarly features a disorienting score, with composer Nathan Larson (Dirty Pretty Things) using isolated, distorted harp and dulcimer chords to accentuate the characters' unease.

The 114-minute film is presented in 1.85:1 widescreen with Dolby Digital 5.1 sound. Extras include a smattering of mostly pointless deleted scenes, the theatrical trailer, and a 20-minute making-of featurette in which Woods reveals himself to be a the world's most prepared director, presenting Blanchett with stacks of videotapes of recovering Sydney addicts and even tracking down a gay, washed-up rugby star for Weaving to model his performance after. This meticulousness aids him on his commentary track, one of the best director-only tracks I've experienced, as he engages in detailed riffs on all aspects of the production and attempts to defend his film against the criticism that its purpose is, at times, tough to understand. -- Colin Miller