In 1979, Angus, with his father's support, discovers the underground post-punk music scene in Christchurch, New Zealand, overcoming self-doubt, derision, and a family tragedy to perform.
Jonathan Ogilvie’s Head South is an autobiographical film that takes us on a nostalgic journey through the 1970s, immersing us in the burgeoning Kiwi post-punk scene. The film is rooted in a true story, drawing from Ogilvie’s own experiences as a teenager in New Zealand. With a runtime just under two hours, Head South manages to maintain a well-paced narrative that keeps the audience engaged from start to finish. It’s a film that captures the essence of a specific time and place while exploring universal themes of youth, identity, and the transformative power of music.
One of the film’s most striking features is its cinematography and set design. From the very beginning, the audience is transported back to the 1970s, with every detail meticulously crafted to reflect the era. The costumes, hairstyles, and overall aesthetic are spot-on, evoking a strong sense of nostalgia for a time that many viewers may not have even experienced firsthand. The film’s use of changing aspect ratios is a particularly effective technique, often employed in modern cinema but used here to great effect. These shifts in the visual format mirror the protagonist’s expanding worldview as he discovers new music, further immersing the audience in his journey.
The film’s ability to capture the spirit of the 1970s extends beyond its visual style. Head South skillfully conveys the thrill of discovering new sounds in a record store, the shy admiration for musicians who seem larger-than-life, and the communal excitement of creating music with friends. The record store, a central setting in the film, is more than just a backdrop; it’s a symbol of a bygone era where music was not just consumed, but discovered and cherished. In this space, the protagonist and his friends explore new genres, debate the merits of different bands, and forge their own identities through the music they love.
Head South evokes a deep sense of nostalgia, even for those who may not have lived through the 1970s. The film taps into a longing for the days when record stores were cultural hubs, where knowledgeable owners were in tune with the latest releases and supported the music community. This sense of community, which seems increasingly absent in today’s world of streaming services and digital downloads, is a central theme in the film. The camaraderie of discovering music together, debating its merits, and even forming a band on a whim is portrayed with a warmth and authenticity that is both touching and relatable.
The subplot involving the protagonist’s parents adds an interesting layer to the narrative, though it feels more like a tribute than a necessary part of the story. The parents’ presence provides a glimpse into the domestic life of the time, but it doesn’t significantly drive the plot forward. Instead, it serves as a backdrop to the main story of the protagonist’s coming-of-age journey through the world of music. This aspect of the film highlights the tension between the older generation, with their more traditional values, and the younger generation, who are carving out their own paths in a rapidly changing world.
At the heart of Head South is the character of Angus, a teenager who is relatable in his struggles to fit in and appear confident. Angus is portrayed as unmotivated and somewhat dull, yet his journey is one of self-discovery and growth. He stumbles awkwardly into the Kiwi post-punk scene and finds himself drawn to Holly, a sassy Londoner who embodies everything that seems exciting and new to him. Holly’s presence in Angus’s life serves as both an inspiration and an intimidation, pushing him to form his own band and step out of his comfort zone.
The film’s depiction of Angus’s life as a teenager in New Zealand is both humorous and moving. Angus’s desperate attempts to fit in, his awkwardness around girls, and his uncertainty about the future are all portrayed with a sense of authenticity that makes him a wholly relatable character. The friendship he strikes up with Kirsten, played by New Zealand singer-songwriter Benee, is a turning point in his life. Kirsten’s character, who works at the local drugstore, helps Angus find a sense of purpose and direction, reorienting his passion for music into something more focused and meaningful.
While the film is undeniably pleasant and enjoyable, it does have its narrative shortcomings. The story is somewhat thin in parts, with certain plot points left underdeveloped. For instance, the marital woes of Angus’s parents and Holly’s complicated relationship with Andy (played by Arlo Gibson) are introduced but not fully explored. Andy’s role in Holly’s life is left ambiguous—he might be her pusher, her pimp, or something else entirely—but the film doesn’t delve deeply enough into this subplot to provide clarity. These narrative gaps, while not detracting significantly from the overall experience, do leave the audience wanting more depth and resolution.
Despite the narrative thinness in certain areas, the performances in Head South are consistently strong. Oxenbould, who plays Angus, delivers a standout performance that captures the character’s complex emotions and inner turmoil. His portrayal of Angus is nuanced, with the right balance of awkwardness, fear, excitement, and a desperate need to appear cool. Oxenbould’s ability to convey these conflicting emotions makes Angus a character that viewers can’t help but root for, even when he’s making questionable decisions.
The supporting cast also delivers solid performances, though the script doesn’t always give them enough material to fully showcase their talents. Benee, in her role as Kirsten, brings a fresh energy to the film, and her chemistry with Oxenbould adds depth to their on-screen friendship. Holly, played by an actress whose performance embodies the allure and danger of the punk scene, is another standout, though her character could have been more fully fleshed out with a bit more screen time and backstory.
Ogilvie’s direction is both confident and creative, employing various retro techniques to give the film an authentic 1970s feel. From jump cuts and fisheye lenses to light flares and simulated film-stock distress, these stylistic choices contribute to the film’s overall aesthetic and help to immerse the audience in the era. One of the most memorable moments in the film occurs when Angus first hears “Public Image”—the impact of the music is so profound that the screen’s aspect ratio shifts from Academy ratio to widescreen, visually representing the expansion of Angus’s mind and world.
Head South is a heartfelt exploration of youth, music, and the search for identity in a time of cultural and social change. While it may have some narrative shortcomings, the film’s strengths lie in its evocative portrayal of the 1970s Kiwi post-punk scene, its nostalgic depiction of record store culture, and the relatable journey of its protagonist. Jonathan Ogilvie has crafted a film that is both visually striking and emotionally resonant, capturing the spirit of a bygone era while reminding us of the timeless power of music to shape our lives. For those who long for the days when discovering a new band could change everything, Head South is a must-watch.
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The full programme of 2024 films is outlined here.