Tribeca: “Birthright” is a Generational War for Housing
In the U.S., there has long been a promise of future home ownership. The dream of the white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and a shining pool in the backyard goes beyond the oft-romanticized American Dream. In Zoe Pepper’s Tribeca-premiering film, Birthright, the audience is taken to the suburbs of Australia, where the myth of the Australian Dream has long since shattered for the younger generation. What’s left behind are anger, disappointment, and frustration, all of which come to a roiling boil in Birthright.
courtesy of Tribeca
Cory (Travis Jeffery) and his wife, Jasmine (Maria Angelico), have been evicted from their home. It couldn’t come at a worse time, as they’re expecting their first child together. Without anywhere else to go, Cory and Jasmine arrive on the doorstep of Cory’s parents, Richard (Michael Hurst) and Lyn (Linda Cropper), under the ruse of merely having lunch together. The young couple has a new apartment lined up, but it’s three weeks away, so their only hope of a roof over their heads is Richard and Lyn’s hospitality. The longer the foursome spend cooped up in the house, the higher the tension rises – until the inevitable explosion.
Much of Birthright’s dry Australian humor comes from the chasm of disconnect between the younger generation and the older one. While that may sound groan-inducing, Birthright’s script is more than fair to the pros and cons of each generation. To the hubris that exists in each generation that believes they understand the state of the world better than the other. Both have their own perspectives, neither wholly right, but in the case of Cory and his father, neither wants to acquiesce that they might not know everything. It’s a microcosm of a larger issue in our modern world. People believe that only they know best, and we’re missing that essential piece of reflection from what each knows.
courtesy of Tribeca
“I just want to go home,” cries Jasmine fairly early on in the film when the frustration of being pregnant and in the middle of a familial spat gets to be too much. What a nebulous concept “home” is in this sense, though. Jasmine craves a home to go to, but has none. Home doesn’t need to be big or have a backyard pool. It just needs to be a space that belongs to her and her family. It’s a source of underlying tension between Cory and Jasmine, because he believes everything that was sold to him as a child. He was told that if he put his head down and got to work, a house with all the trimmings would be his. The state of the world ensured that’s not the case, yet it’s all he wants. So much so that it’s blinding him. Where Cory needs the perfect Australian Dream, Jasmine needs something smaller. Something less tangible that isn’t about a structure or a roof over their heads, but is a place of calm that can allow her family to grow.
Those familiar with Australian film sensibilities can likely guess that Birthright will not have a happily-ever-after moment. When Cory and Jasmine drive into suburbia at the beginning of the film, the music that accompanies them is gothic, almost-religious-sounding chanting music. This feeling of foreboding carries the audience through the entire film before the inevitable bloody conclusion. “Kids take all you got and then a little bit more,” Richard groans. Birthright is a skewering of two generations, utterly at odds with each other, yet unbreakably connected through blood.
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