Derelict charts the devastating downward spiral affecting two characters on either side of a violent crime. It's an impressively non-partisan treatment of trauma and grief, but elevated further by some fantastic performances and the strong vision of director-cinematographer Jonathan Zaurin.
Split into chapters, it follows two protagonists who only meet at two emotionally charged moments. Even so, the result is a thought-provoking revenge thriller that keeps its eye on the victims.
Derelict may open with home movies of happier times, but we soon find Suzanne Fulton's Abigail is struggling. Her life is falling apart following her father's death. Estranged from her sister, her inability to come to terms with the heart-breaking loss years after the event only worsens when one of her father's murderers is released from jail.
Intercutting Abigail's attempts to find closure is the relationship between two very different brothers. Ewan (Pete Bird—with a horrifyingly impassive stare) returns home and ignores the pleas of his bedridden mother to look after his sensitive younger brother Matt (Michael Coombes). Instead, he soon drags him into his world of crime and abuse. We watch the stories of Abigail and Matt intersect in the past and present as the younger brother is forced to take part in a robbery that goes too far, and the daughter's frustrated attempts to find peace turn to violent retribution years later.
Derelict has a methodical, albeit nonlinear, structure where the chapters move from characters (Abigail, Two Brothers) to actions (The Plan, The Crime, the Wrath). Within those sections, Zaurin jumps between colour and monochrome to capture emotional moments —the screen desaturates as the characters face choices and turmoil.
What could be obtrusive, particularly as the leaps between past and present disrupt the domino fall of the film's events, is hugely effective in capturing the overriding threat of crime—from drug use and extortion to violence—and the consequences for everyone involved.
One gruelling but impressive sequence sees Abigail give in to a thug's demands to get a gun she's convinced she needs to enact revenge. In a key sign of the downward spiral of futility she's trapped in, Abigail emerges battered and bruised because of the thug's pride. But while she wears the record of that violent meeting from that point on (a cut face with a bandage over one eye), Zaurin keeps the encounter itself trained on the thug's face and a swinging lantern light. It's a mesmerising moment that captures how Abigail's life is shaped by male violence.
Under that swinging spotlight and the crush of consequence, there are haunting performances. As the grieving Abigail, Fulton is steely as the raging sister and broken as the daughter desperate to find peace. On the opposite side of the equation, Coombes's Matt is a painfully raw portrait of a figure broken by circumstance. Although he lacks the incredible steady stare of his brother, Matt ultimately proves he has greater resolve. But there are no winners in Derelict. While the thug who brutalises Abigail offers a more straightforward line of retribution, if that's possible, Matt embodies the impossibility of a satisfying revenge. When that point is made clear, it's a gut punch. In Derelict, everyone is a candidate to be the subject of the title, despite the glimmer of hope that seemingly emerges from nowhere at the end.
While some will find its runtime may be a little long, Derelict's slow-burning, hanging scenes deserve their time. It's hard to think that a tighter cut could have conveyed the same emotional message, especially given the film doesn't feel its full two hours and two minutes.
Ultimately, this thought-provoking low-budget film is a gruelling but rewarding experience, packed with talent worth keeping an eye on.
Derelict is on digital now from Miracle Media and on Blu-ray from 101 Films from September 22.
