Heart of the Man (2023) is a bold new Australian film that speaks out on questions of identity, community and culture, and refuses to pull any punches. The story pivots around the loving but complicated relationship between Chris (Parker Little) and Sam “Wonderman” Wundurra (David Cook), a single father who seems obtrusive but really wants the best for his kid.
The tensions between father and son arise from grief and intergenerational trauma; Chris has to choose between steeling himself against the world he was born into, and against his desires, or throwing off the mask and being himself. These tensions are also just a part of growing up. In fast-cut montages we see Chris stagger from the fight in the boxing ring, bristling at his father’s expectations, to treading the boards of his local community theatre.
At the heart of the film — its lifeblood —is Chris’ grandmother, Winnie (Roxanne McDonald), who asks her grandson: “what is it that you truly want,” prodding his chest, “in here?”, and tells Chris’ father that he doesn’t have to be “a warrior.”
bell hooks once said that “there is only one emotion that patriarchy values when expressed by men, and that emotion is anger.” By sensitively portraying men in times of emotional hardship, Cook’s film is an utter rejection of the patriarchal conception of masculinity. When I asked about this necessary representation, Cook said it was “very deliberate.”
David Cook: There’s a lot of very deliberate misdirection in the film. We look at the trailer for Heart of the Man and we think boxing! Tough! Men! But ‘heart of the man’ is really that vulnerability that stems underneath. So for me, it was the idea of masculinity, and the fact that men can be gentle and strong at the same time.. What is ‘the heart of the man’? It’s not just about triumph in the boxing ring, it’s overcoming adversity. And I think that’s why many people have resonated so strongly with this film. That was what we wanted — for people to feel, and reflect on who they are when the mask’s off. What does your heart, your spirit want?I’m not ashamed to say it but I cried during the writing process. There was a lot of healing, with the storytelling. And I think that’s why we’re storytellers. We’re all out here trying to heal parts of ourselves, and to share the fact that we’re not alone. Once I embraced parts of my life, I thought alright — it’s time to tell it.
Ella McGrath: Similar to the function of your film, there’s a moment where Joey, owner of the local theatre, imparts his purpose: “making underrepresented voices heard.” However, in the film industry, creatives usually face a lack of representation in onscreen characters as well as a lack of funding to tell their stories. While you shouldn’t have to do this, you successfully took on the hyphenated roles of writer-director-actor-producer. Can you take me through the journey to make this film happen?
DC: Oh it was hard. I assessed the landscape of our homegrown film industry and thought we don’t have an established producer or a large clientele. We don’t have the funding. I’ve never produced a full-length feature before, but I have written. So then I thought how am I going to do it? And I just knuckled down, worked ridiculous amounts of hours every week, while I was still being a dad, whilst working on sets, took out a ridiculous loan, and bought all of this film gear. Taught myself how to use it, how to use lights, sound, film, amassed a team, saved a bit of the money, and said guys, this is what I’m going to do. Who wants to get crazy with me!
And from there we built trust, with all these people.They read the script, and said this is ambitious! And there’s not a lot of money! But we had the resources, we had the team and we had the passion and then it was just a matter of let’s do it. Let’s set a date, let’s go for it. I love to self-impose pressure; I always need a date, and a challenge. And there were challenges — pauses in production because of floods in Brisbane, Covid-19… But it just goes to show that a little bit of money, some gear, and a great deal of passion can get you a long way.
EM: I am so grateful to you and your team for taking that risk and making this film. The relationship between Chris and Jamie, from that first meeting in the locker room, and then the inner turmoil that follows, are major parts of the story but they don’t define it. It’s the beautiful and complicated father-son relationship that defines the story. Can you take me through that creative decision?
DC: When I was writing the film, there was certainly a lot of personal influence that I went through. Today I don’t identify as a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, but when I was 16 years old I was going through a great deal of personal trauma. There were years where I felt like it was my fault that abuse had happened to me. So, at that time, I was also going through big changes in identity — cultural identity as well as sexual identity. So that had to come out. I was an athlete, we did have substance abuse in our world, in the Aboriginal and the LGBTQIA+ communities that were interconnected when I was growing up. The stories were so raw and so true to me, but because of the way society is now you have to tick all of these different boxes. It gets tricky, because we, today, may have changed, or been through a period of transition and we don’t necessarily tick a certain box. I wanted to bring all of these different issues to light without clearly defining Chris’ identity in the film, or even giving it a clear timestamp of when and where the story takes place. Chris doesn’t know how he identifies, but he comes to know who he is and what he wants. And it’s not just about his sexual identity, but his spiritual identity. There are layers to it.
EM: I loved your decision to not end the film with the trauma it opened on. In that final shot, you linger in the ambiguity in your role as Sam, Chris’ father, standing in the auditorium just in awe of your son, before he starts to sing but we don’t get to hear it! It was unfortunate because I’ve done my research and this man can sing!
DC: I’ll let you in on this – Parker was going to sing. But then, towards the end he said “I might not sing, let’s just let it end”. I’m kind of jealous of Parker; he’s just incredible. He can sing, he can dance, he can act.
EM: Parker’s character, being a very masculine-presenting man, in drag, and undaunted by getting in touch with his femininity, in a regional community — that is so fierce. Throughout the film that idea of being ‘the man’ is recontextualised, and you’re always flipping the script on what it is to be a fighter, a warrior.
DC: Yes absolutely. I’ve got memories from when I was a kid watching Once Were Warriors, as a lot of us do, and there’s a lot of similarities and differences between Māori and First Nations culture [in this country]. But that idea of being ‘raised tough,’ that’s how we were raised as well. And honestly, I think it’s bullshit! Vulnerability is a strength. Chris, in the movie, says “I’m supposed to be strong,” and then his grandmother refutes it by simply saying “why can’t you be both?”
That cultural pressure of just having to be ‘the warrior’ often means you can’t be sensitive or an artist. I think ‘the warrior’ is great to channel if you’re an athlete and you’re competing, but in life, in your relationships, the ‘warrior’ doesn’t get the chance to live. And I lived with a lot of anger through my twenties, from what I’d been through. It didn’t serve me at all. I almost feel like I’m making up for lost time because I was living in that warrior mindset. It’s beautiful to have turned that page and come from a place of walking my own path now. I need to tell stories. I need to tell stories and heal. And I need to let people know that they’re not alone. That’s my purpose.
Heart of the Man (2023) premiered at Brisvegas and recently screened in Sydney at the Inner West Film Fest.
