In 1979 a carefully curated music store could help shape a scene and facilitate a community. They were landmarks, culturally influential, and for someone like Angus offered the new sense of self he’s looking for.
“Music at that time was a gateway,” Ogilvie said ahead of the screening. “Into a world of ideas”.
Shops have a significant role in the film, reflective of the era. It’s at the chemist he connects with Kirsten – Stella Bennett (Benee) in her first film role, a strong performance – and buys cough syrup and KY (neither for their prescribed purpose).
Cinematographer John Christoffels lingers on details of the film’s businesses and houses, giving you a feel for the time, and the art department’s done an impressive job with the sets, particularly the homes.
It’s where Angus is working things out – when he’s not at the record shop or school, which we don’t see enough of – and there’s an intimacy and isolation to his process of discovery that will be familiar to many.
He swaps his Wallabees for winklepickers and staples his trousers tighter and it’s all charmingly DIY.
Ed Oxenbould puts in a strong performance as Angus, capturing a naivety that’s integral to believing the character’s arc. It would have been easy to be a scowling angsty teen, but his wide-eyed, soft-cheeked optimism makes his determination endearing.
This is Angus’ story and we see everything through his eyes, which means we only get fleeting interactions or surface-level readings of some characters – like the edgy Holly (charismatic rising star Roxie Mohebbi) whose story surely has more to it than she lets on, or we get to see.
Everyone’s fronting with authenticity, but who’s really the poseur?
The concept of cultural cringe underpins Head South, that “nagging fear that what we do in Aotearoa might not be up to scratch” Ogilvie said of the film. “It’s very much a celebration of creative energy.”
Head South opened the Christchurch leg of the New Zealand International Film Festival, and screened in Auckland Sunday August 11. Ogilvie was there at the historic Civic Theatre to introduce the film – and some of its young cast – telling the audience it came from a specific time and place, while stressing its autobiographical nature, touching on his own time in a band, the “notorious” Gladstone Hotel (home to the city’s underground music scene), and Flying Nun act Children’s Hour.
How much of the film is true?
“Everything you’re about to see on screen happened; most of happened to me,” Ogilvie said. “This is fact. This is not a lie.”
Watching it all unfold, his introduction lingered throughout the escapades and embarrassments of adolescence, Angus’ eccentric family members, and the lengths he’ll go to to get a bass. By the time the remembrance dedications roll, that truth feels heavier.
It’s a highly specific, deeply personal piece of local cinema, and Ogilvie called for a “coup d’etat” on the Civic stage. “A new pride in supporting our own stories,” he told festivalgoers, calling for a rejection of America’s “colonisation” of our minds and creativity. “Cinema needs to be reclaimed.”
In Deep South the dominant creative influence comes from the United Kingdom; Christchurch is presented as a city of Anglophiles, whether tasteful tea sets or imported indie records, and the King’s Rd is talked about in mythic proportions.
We see Angus and the other characters try to approximate the stylings of a subculture that feels so far away, and these efforts provide a lot of the film’s comedic beats.
Its rendering of the access and distribution of music and cultural knowledge in 1979 Christchurch is fascinating to watch, and it’s a salient reminder of how much harder some music was to get your hands on.
Accessibility is a defining feature of this film, and even though the subject is niche, its story is handled in a way that ensures a broad church can enjoy it.
Those with a general knowledge of music and New Zealand will experience this as a universal coming-of-age film, while people with lived experience of the period will appreciate the in-jokes and you-had-to-be-there references.
The credits too, with music by Shayne Carter from Straitjacket Fits. Ogilvie directed the music video for the band’s 1988 hit She Speeds.
Head South’s characters ponder the idea of direction, and for Ogilvie it seems to be full circle.
Head South is screening in New Zealand cinemas from October 31.
Emma Gleason is the Herald’s lifestyle and entertainment deputy editor. Based in Auckland, she covers culture, media and more.
