Lucky Miles

A bittersweet comedy reinventing a classic Aussie story.

It’s 1990 and an Indonesia fishing boat drops two groups of refugees on the West Australian coast. The group of Iraqi and Cambodian men are told to wait for a bus just over the sand dune hill, however, beyond the sand dune is the baron Australian desert.

Realising they have been abandoned the groups are divided by their nationality and set upon their ways in opposite direction. Very quickly, most of the men are picked up by the authorities, three men manage to avoid capture in various ways.

Pursued by an Army reservist unit who are equally as farcical at times, the three men begin their journeys alone whilst crossing paths in an amusing and absurd fashion.

On the surface Lucky Miles is a bittersweet comedy about three men and their struggle with the harsh Australian country. At its core it is a story of how globalisation is affecting the way in which our future unfolds.

Although a daunting prospect, the story is presented in such a way that it becomes accessible to the viewer without dwelling on the back stories of the characters or the welcome they are bound to receive if they manage to find a local community. This is left to the audience and all happens effortlessly.

Competent performances from all characters means it was easy to get involved in the story and follow the plight of our three lost heroes. Films set in rural Australia tend to have the characters bombarded with cliché’s and they end up becoming caricatures of themselves.

Lucky Mile’s characters ease into their roles and by the end of the film we are left feeling close to them and their struggle.

Australian audiences are not strangers to the wandering in the desert sub genre. Lucky miles not only updates the story it presents it from the modern perspective of the refugee, which is unheard of in Australian cinema.

Resisting the temptation to preach to the audience on the formidable subject of refugees, Lucky Miles stands out as a personable film that allows the viewer to easily sympathise with the lost men, without the terrible feeling of guilt often associated with films of this nature.

Support good Australian independent cinema and buy a ticket to Lucky Miles, take a mate too and you’ll hopefully have as much fun as we did.