There are some offers you simply can’t refuse – not because they are appealing, but rather since they seem to be the only choice when it comes to survival. This is what we find John Hillcoat beautifully negotiating in The Proposition, a film written by Nick Cave, who takes a momentary sojourn from being the lyrical voice of his generation and takes a gamble as a screenwriter. The film is set in 1880s, and follows Charlie Burns, a notorious outlaw who has always existed on the wrong side of the law, who is paid a visit by Captain Morris Stanley, a bloodthirsty military officer sent over from the homeland to watch over this new colony, and who presents Charlie with an ultimatum: either he and his younger brother will be hanged for the role they played in the rape and murder of a local family, or he will track down his older brother, an even more notorious criminal, bringing him to justice by any means necessary. What starts as an already challenging proposition becomes more complex as Charlie has his own interests at heart and sets out to play both sides against the middle, not realising the potential for catastrophe. A film that is equal parts thrilling and terrifying, The Proposition has rightly earned a place in the canon of incredible Australian films that not only address the dark history of the continent, particularly during the colonial era, but also reflects deeper themes relating to the human condition, something that both Hillcoat and Cave have focused on in all of their work, which culminates in a film that sets out to challenge, but acknowledges its own limitations in providing all the answers the impossible questions it asks throughout, which is all part of its appeal. Beautifully compelling and deeply chilling in ways that are difficult to put into words, The Proposition stands firmly as one of the most effective attempts to revive the western genre at a time when audiences simply did not show any interest in these films, proving that there was still space for effective, thoroughly engaging filmmaking that is both thought-provoking and genuinely very entertaining.

As far as thematic content goes, The Proposition is quite conventional – it’s not interested in redefining the genre, but rather looking at some of its core ideas in a way that is challenging, insightful and frankly quite harrowing. The focus is primarily on the central crisis faced by the protagonist, who is forced to choose where his loyalties lie: does he allow himself and his younger brother to face enormous consequences, or does he rat out his older brother, who has been a guiding force in his early life, but has seemingly gone on his own individual path, one that doesn’t include anyone who he doesn’t view as being worth his protection. It’s a complex portrait of humanity that extends beyond the confines of the traditional revenge thriller, with every moment being an intricate piece of a larger puzzle. Cave has always been open about his fascination with Australia’s storied past, and he finds a kindred spirit in Hillcoat, the pairing being very appropriate for a story built around examining the legacy of the country and its harsh past, which tends to be overlooked in a lot of contemporary works that don’t understand the spectre of history that lingers quite heavily. Moral conflict and the ethics of revenge are the primary source of the story’s impact, with different characters being given the focus at various points – particularly the duality between Charlie, a cold-blooded killer given the chance at redemption, and Captain Stanley, who realises that he needs to always be one step ahead of his adversaries, and that sheer power and influence are not enough to get the results he seeks. There are many layers to this film, and while it can easily just be viewed as a captivating document on the country’s past (with the historical details being exceptionally compelling), there are many ideas that constitute the foundation of this film, making it quite daring, even when it does often revolve around some seemingly straightforward themes, which it slowly and methodically unpacks as the story progresses.

Something that we do notice in The Proposition is the refusal to resort to archetypes. The character development is the main reason the film works so exceptionally well, since it introduces us to people who seem to be stock characters at first, but who are gradually made out to be a lot more complex than we imagined at first glance. Everyone is well-developed, to the point where it’s actually more of an ensemble piece than it is merely a single character’s journey. Guy Pearce is nothing if consistently reliable, and he proves that he can easily lead such a film, taking on the part of Charlie Burns with exquisite commitment to unearthing all the layers that linger beneath the surface of someone inaccurately viewed as just a mindless killer. Ray Winstone is a perfect juxtaposition, with his introduction implying that he’s a one-dimensional villain, but every subsequent scene shades in the ambiguities and allows him to be perceived as a far more nuanced character, almost to the point where he becomes a secondary protagonist, perhaps the only truly principled, moral person in this entire film. The real villain comes in the form of Danny Huston, who is exceptional as the notorious Arthur, a man who only communicates through violence, even if it is against his own flesh and blood. Supporting parts from Emily Watson and John Hurt add layers to an already complex film, as does the solid work done by a large cast of Aboriginal actors, most prominently David Gulpilil (who could legitimately lay claim to being Australia’s greatest actor, in both talent and body of work), providing The Proposition with a sense of authenticity that we often find missing in a lot of similarly-themed films that attempt to examine the country’s past, but only until a certain point before it becomes too reluctant to really dive into the challenging aspects.

There is a lot more to The Proposition than just the ideas – Cave had those covered in his screenplay, which was exceptionally compelling and was enough to pique our curiosity. However, it was Hillcoat who deserves some credit for how he ties everything together so beautifully, with his direction capturing the layers of this film with incredible precision and meaningful attention to detail. There is a clear focus on accuracy – much of the film is shot on location in the most remote areas of Australia, which have seemingly remained mostly untouched from the 19th century, the expansive desert landscapes looking the same as they did hundreds of years ago. The striking cinematography makes every frame beyond beautiful (and it’s a shame that it is so rarely shown in theatres since its release – it more than warrants as large a screen as possible), and the compositions are in themselves works of incredible art. Benoît Delhomme has served as director of photography on some of the most extraordinary films over the course of his career, and this is just another fantastic addition, with his realisation of the story being worth seeking out the film all on its own. Cave’s contributions are not restricted only to the screenplay, since he takes on the task of scoring the film as well, which he does with longtime collaborator Warren Ellis, the pair creating a score that feels like the aural equivalent of looming danger, the subtle nuances concealing so many complex, deeply unsettling moments. It’s as brilliant an artistic achievement as it is a narrative one, and the intensity of the filmmaking matches the depth of emotions that populate this extraordinarily daring work of art. Hillcoat is not a filmmaker who gets as much credit as he deserves, and The Proposition is an exceptional example of his gifts and a reason to take him much more seriously as a committed, deeply brilliant cinematic craftsman.

Two decades since its release, The Proposition remains a peculiar curio of a film – a dense, harrowing blend of psychological thriller and western drama, handcrafted by a director and screenwriter who exist in lockstep with each other, coming together to create a work of unbridled complexity that takes the audience on a fascinating voyage into the past. The filmmaking is extraordinary and daring, with stunning cinematography complementing a strong story that examines the human condition from many different angles, helped along by an ensemble who are committed to bringing these ideas to life on screen with precision and accuracy. It’s quietly earning a much stronger reputation, with more viewers becoming familiar with it as time goes on, and it is recognised as not only a fantastic throwback to classic westerns (Hillcoat looks towards several traditional entries into the genre, following them extensively as this film developed its ideas), but also a thoroughly original work all on its own. There are so many aspects of The Proposition that stir conversation and provoke thought, and while it may lean into convention on a few occasions, its a mostly solid, complex work that is much more than it appears to be on the surface – and it eventually earns enough momentum to be entirely compelling, even when it can rely on a lot of the audience’s patience and willingness to believe in these characters and what they represent.