Audrey

by Amelia Leonard

Audrey (Natalie Bailey, 2024)

Natalie Bailey’s satirical debut feature houses an obvious distaste for domesticity and the status quo. Ronnie (Jackie Van Beek), a has-been soap star, is far from a traditional wife and mother. She lives out her quashed dreams of success through her eldest daughter, Audrey (Josephine Blazier), whom she spends the majority of her time fussing over, moulding into the next theatrical prodigy. Audrey meanwhile has other aspirations. It’s clear she couldn’t care less about acting, instead, she harbours vague desires of becoming a humanitarian, planning to build houses for the disadvantaged in Nepal with her pill-popping, pseudo-intellectual boyfriend Max (Fraser Anderson). The chaotic relationship between Ronnie and Audrey may be the centrepiece of this story, but this mother-daughter duo are not the only ones in their own personal crisis.

Ronnie’s husband, Cormack (Jeremy Lindsay Taylor), is entrenched in a midlife crisis. Overlooked and underappreciated, Cormack is sexually frustrated until a chance of liberation emerges in his new employer, Bourke (Aaron Fa'aoso), who hilariously is revealed to be a director of niche Christian porn films. Meanwhile, youngest daughter Norah (Hannah Diviney) feels utterly invisible, hidden in the shadow of her sister's limelight, despite requiring the most care as she navigates life with cerebral palsy. Ronnie would rather pay for Audrey’s vocal classes than provide Norah with necessities like an accessible bathroom.

When Audrey climbs up onto the roof of the family home in a defiant display of rebellion, their already fragile lives come crashing down when she lands herself in a coma. But instead of grieving her child’s unclear fate, Ronnie is more concerned about her missing out on an exclusive acting masterclass. So, as ridiculous as it may sound, Ronnie assumes her daughter’s identity, attending the acting classes herself. After all, Audrey’s success is Ronnie’s responsibility.  

As Audrey’s comatose state continues, the family find their lives improving. This poses a moral quandary and a slew of uncomfortable questions that screenwriter, Lou Sanz, does not shy away from (perhaps made more palatable within their comedic context). If your child is in fact, well, a terrible person, is it acceptable that you may not actually like them? Is it possible that you may in fact be better off without them? Despite the family’s perverse relishing of Audrey’s absence, we can’t help but sympathise.

There is a case to be made here for the plight of individualism and the demands of family life. On one hand, there’s the notion that child-rearing and family interdependence erases individuality, but there’s also a very visible celebration of an unconventional family unit, made clear through moments of genuine heartwarming depth. Although its characters’ endeavours may be exceptionally selfish, we want to see them succeed on their respective, self-absorbed paths. As Ronnie’s acting mentor (Gael Ballantyne) puts it, “I see a mother unwilling to give up her only happiness for her children.”  

This is a film that is not afraid to look at life’s harder questions with humour, heart, and complete absurdity. Audrey comes to the table as a refreshing challenge to societal norms, turning conventional expectations on their head.