In the days I frequented symphonies, I heard that the Austrian composer Anton Bruckner wrote the same symphony nine times. Having never been partial to Bruckner, I cannot substantiate whether it’s true or an offhanded slight. History, however, is full of cyclical patterns, and the age-old tradition of storytelling is said to have a limited number of archetypal stories. The number is not agreed upon, but it defines storytelling as a repetitive act.
New Zealand director Ant Timpson’s sophomore feature Bookworm reunites him with British screenwriter Toby Harvard after their 2019 black comedy Come to Daddy. It also reunites the pair with the recurring theme of an estranged father and his child reconnecting. There are distinct differences between the two films – Elijah Wood swaps roles to play the father this time around. Meanwhile, Come to Daddy’s dark tone – which includes a man chained up in a basement, a violent fight in a motel that is hosting a swinger’s convention, where Wood’s character, Norval, is stabbed by a prostitute – is sanitized for Bookworm‘s family-friendly vibe. Timpson and Harvard remind us that repetition and reimagining, or exploring the many guises of an archetypal story, are not mutually exclusive.
Bookworm effuses charm and humour with its sharp writing and chemistry between its two leads, Wood and 12-year-old Nell Fisher. Told across five creatively titled chapters, beginning with “Our Version of Bigfoot” and ending with “Believe in Magic”, the story revolves around 11-year-old bookworm Mildred (Fisher). After her mother Zo (Morgana O’Reilly) is electrocuted by a toaster, her father, the failed American illusionist Strawn Wise (Wood) turns up to take care of her. Besides Strawn, who has never met his daughter, the only other responsible adult is Mildred’s alcoholic aunt, Dotty (Nikki Si’ulepa). Neither is the ideal candidate to fill in for Mum, who is in a coma. Determined to step up and get to know his daughter, Strawn agrees to take Mildred on a camping trip into New Zealand’s wilderness to track down the Canterbury Panther, a mythological predator.
Early on, there are plenty of humorous exchanges, including when father and daughter think they have found something in common, only to realize they’re talking about a different David Copperfield. Mildred always has an answer and is never short of a witty remark. She describes herself as a “brutal realist” and lists what she finds annoying about Americans – the way they call one another “buddy” and say, “Hell yeah”, and high-five one another. She also finishes her father’s vocalized thought that she doesn’t talk like most children her age. Mildred is cinema’s newest wisecracking, precocious child sensation. She takes the audience by the hand and leads them on a delightful adventure, albeit not without a dark twist or two.
Timpson and Harvard diligently construct the comedy and drama, ensuring Bookworm doesn’t outstay its welcome. If a scene is at risk of digressing, the filmmakers swiftly move it along. Remaining anti-sentimental until the appropriate time when it flourishes is one reason for Bookworm’s success. What’s striking is how the filmmakers read the story and understand that moments must be earned. Everything is earned – from the transformation of Mildred and Strawn’s relationship to a scene later in the film when they break the rules of Bookworm’s world. Timpson and Harvard are permitted a brief fantastical indulgence because they have their audience’s goodwill. This fantastical moment, however, is not only indulgent but can also be interpreted as a metaphor for Mildred and Strawn’s journey, making it narratively appropriate.
There’s inevitably a tenderness when father and daughter emotionally embrace, diffusing their verbal friction, but it reaches its natural and predictable conclusion. Bookworm‘s spirit carries over into the eventual sentimentality and affection, infusing it with an unconscious memory of Strawn and Mildred’s earlier back and forth that keeps any saccharine moments honest.
Thematically, despite some introspection, Bookworm is less about Strawn and Mildred finding themselves and more about finding one another. Beneath a fun yarn about a father and daughter hunting the mythological leopard and trying to photograph it for the cash reward, Bookworm is about the reciprocation of trust and vulnerability, with the strange twists of fate playing the role of icebreaker.
Bookworm belongs to the softer side of genre cinema and opposite Come to Daddy in that it reveals the Jekyll and Hyde-like sides of Timpson and Harvard’s creative personas. It’s difficult not to see Wood as an extension of the filmmakers, having played truly dark and unsettling characters – a serial killer in Franck Khalfoun’s 2012 remake of William Lustig’s 1980 Maniac, a psychopath that dismembers prostitutes and keeps their heads as trophies in Robert Rodriguez’s 2015 anthology Sin City, to the milder but creepy Patrick Wertz in Michel Gondry’s 2014 drama, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
The collaboration between Timpson, Harvard, and Wood explores the actor’s idiosyncrasies. A likeable protagonist in both Come to Daddy and Bookworm, the filmmakers subconsciously play off the darker side of his onscreen persona to heighten his affability. Bookworm engages with an unspoken playfulness and, like Come to Daddy, paints a thin line between good and evil, which the filmmakers and cast blur. Beneath Bookworm’s supposedly family-friendly vibe, a darker association tilts it into the subversive.
Bookworm opened the 2024 Fantasia International Film Festival. It will play on the main screen at the 25th Anniversary Edition of FrightFest on Friday 23 August. It will release in New Zealand on 8 August and has been acquired for UK distribution by Signature Entertainment.