The power of Weir's film lies not in its minimalistic plot, but rather in its conveyance of terror and uncertainty through atmosphere alone. Never before has Nature seemed so beautiful and terrifying as Weir depicts it through Hanging Rock. Awesome in its grandeur, frightening in its colossal silence that refuses to utter a word as to what happened to the girls, the Rock is easily the most imposing presence throughout the movie. It is so full of life that it seems as if it simply absorbs all other life--whoever approaches it is dwarfed in both size and meaning, for the Rock represents the purity of Nature that is resistant to all exterior and superficial meanings that "modern man" may place upon it or bring to it. In its crooked, slanted, and pointy peaks, it reflects the harsh beauty of life itself--the paradox of the sublime. Beauty and horror, good and evil cease to be perfectly delineated within its bounds, creating a void that man has striven to fill with religion, morals, and traditional values. All of these are superfluous on the Rock.
No wonder the girls get lost within its crevices; or, more precisely, no wonder they lose themselves in its crevices. The Hanging Rock, as a symbol of the unadulterated life force or will, seems to invite the girls to shed themselves of the petty morals, conventions, and traditions in which they have become so enmeshed. Weir does a remarkable job of emphasizing the repression inherent in these girls' lives, beginning with the first scene in which we see a group of girls self-imposing the restraint of their corsets on each other. The strict owner of the school, Mrs. Appleyard (Rachel Roberts), is representative of the frightening degree to which we voluntarily encase ourselves in manners and "proper comportment." Just as Roberts' character is horrifyingly stifling, so are the life-denying values we are spoon-fed and that we accept without question. It is because of this continual denial of life that the girls cannot help but lose themselves in the Rock. Hanging Rock is their salvation from the "happy" fascism of their everyday lives.
We see this theme play itself out at many different instances throughout the movie. In the very beginning, we sense the sexual repression of the girls especially in the relationship of Sara and Miranda. It is clear they have feelings for each other that transcend mere friendship, but their environment--their atmosphere, their being in the world, as Heidegger would have it--represses this to an unconscionable extent. Further into the movie, when Irma is found, we learn that she is missing her corset. The suggestion of this ever-so-subtle hint is unquestionable.
It becomes clear that the girls chose to get lost in the Rock in order to get a taste of life's energies--in order to exercise their own wills, unfettered by custom or morality, so that they may express the chaos within themselves and thereby "give birth to their dancing stars." The great irony is, of course, that this journey to the beyond--the taste of transcendence itself--cost them their lives. They fed from the tree of life, and are now condemned to suffer the consequences: Rather than return to the life of the blatant degeneration of the instincts (as represented by Mrs. Appleyard), they choose to perish amid the terrifying beauty of the utter liberation afforded them by the timeless Hanging Rock. But somehow, we do not find this to be such a heinous outcome, for it is indeed better to have lived and lost than never to have lived at all.
rachel roberts, dominic guard
helen morse, jacki weaver
anne louise lambert
unfashionable observations rating: A
