The Port Arthur massacre in April 1996 which resulted in the death of 35 people and left over 20 more with injuries forced Australia to overhaul their gun laws with rapid action by their government. Remaining the deadliest massacre in modern Australia, director Justin Kurzel seeks to understand the leadup to the tragedy in his newest film, Nitram, which follows the assailant (Caleb Landry Jones) through his tumultuous home life with his parents (Judy Davis, Anthony LaPaglia) and his bizarre social life with surfer Jamie (Sean Keenan) and an aging heiress, Helen (Essie Davis).  

The Australian director, who has split his time between true crime and fiction, is working off an incredibly layered script by Shaun Grant for the IFC Films release which debuted at the 2021 edition of the Cannes Film Festival before expanding worldwide. At only 112 minutes, the film feels much longer given the constant state of dread which looms over the narrative.  

The film is careful in its exploration that it never fully shifts blame for the tragedy from Nitram, but if the saying that “It takes a village to raise a child” holds any truth, this is a village that has failed according to the film. In a strange way, the film presents these events as if they were fated by the stars, that Nitram and those around him were on an unavoidable track towards destruction. Again, Kurzel and Grant never fully blame the environment, but they make effort to show that there were many missed opportunities to get Nitram help, but as a family, it was easier just to string him along and hope it all resolves itself. It is more than just hindsight being 20/20 because the script makes an effort to show that LaPaglia’s father figure is trying to level with and understand his son. He is one of the few people, besides Helen, that shows him compassion and wants to help him achieve a good and normal life. 

At the center of the film, Jones has a very difficult role to fill, and the unsettling and uncomfortable tone that the film adopts complements the nuanced performance perfectly. One of the most incredible things about the performance is how Jones shows Nitram processing through consequences. He brings this wide range of emotion to a character – a person – who can often be thought of as heartless and emotionless given the crimes which he goes on to commit. The script portrays Nitram as a young man, denied the help and care he needs, who is trying his best to fit in but so often falls victim to his own dangerous devices and the apathy shown to him by those around him. While we know that he will go on to commit a grievous act – even without the knowledge of the Port Arthur massacre, we know something is amiss from how Grant frames the narrative – we find ourselves at times feeling compassion as he howls in remorse over the death of Helen, is turned away at his father’s funeral by his mother, and finally when the tears well in Jones’ eyes as he discusses his plans to see LA at a travel agency. At the same time, however, there are many instances where Jones’ performance instills a great amount of fear in us as he becomes physically aggressive towards those around him, or he remains icy cool at the gun store feigning ignorance when he points the rifle at the shopkeeper (Rick James).  

Towards the end of the film, Kurzel employs a drone that soars high above the road Nitram is traveling on his way to Port Arthur. The writing is on the wall, and as the audience, we are locked in yet so far removed and powerless in the situation very similar in construction and tone of the overhead shots used in the Michigan sequence late in the second hour of Martin Scorcese’s The Irishman (2019). One of, if not the, only uses of ariel shots in the film, it stands out giving us a moment away from Nitram to collect our thoughts and prepare for the brutal finale. Kurzel is not quick to relieve us from this suspense. As with his other interactions involving money, he hands over cash at the concession stand for whatever it will buy: in this case, a fruit cup and juice. Back at the table, he finishes his meager meal, sets a camcorder on the table, and removes his gun from the duffel bag. Kurzel is kind enough to spare us the visuals of violence here; in today’s day and age, we are all too familiar with what happens in the moments after. The camera cuts back to the house as the initial reports play out on the television and then the camera begins to track through the walls of the house to the porch where his mother is sitting and her reflection in the window behind her overlays with the tragic images from the news report forever linking her to the killing. 

The concept of guilt and who is to blame in the aftermath of a spree killing such as this is one that has continued to be explored in modern film as the rate of these killings has continued to increase. The argument can be made that there are times, specifically in that final shot, that Nitram seeks to place the blame on someone other than Nitram, but it is not that black and white. The final shot, more than likely, is being used to show this inalienable link to the tragedy that is now attached to the mother. This concept is explored in greater detail in Lynne Ramsay’s We Need to Talk About Kevin (2011) and more recently in Fran Kranz’s Mass (2021).  

What Kurzel and Grant are careful to do in Nitram is to not glorify the killer. His name is never used properly, only ever referring to him by his relationship title with those around him or using his inverted name as was done when he was bullied in the schoolyard growing up, the latter of which does inspire the title. Nitram, after seeing a report on the Dunblane massacre and the notoriety given to the assailant, seems to use that as motivation to make his own headlines at Port Arthur. For a film that can be boiled down to being one about consequences, this denial of named fame sends a powerful message as the narrative team makes every conscious effort to deny him his own notoriety, even if his acts would result in swift – albeit unfollowed and unsuccessful – gun reform in Australia as the closing titles cards will go on to inform us.  

This removal from the source, though, also extends to the victims. While no one can truly lay claim to a mass tragedy, and it was tasteful to not show the more gruesome details, a card naming and honoring the victims at the end could help to more firmly balance the end of the film. As it stands, though, Nitram is a strong work of suspense in the unfortunately growing subgenre of mass tragedy films. It may not be entirely successful in unlocking the “why” behind the crime, nor does it really serve well as an informative biopic, but the lesson is clear: these are preventable tragedies, and until we see actual and concentrated reform in gun laws and how our society handles mental health, they will continue to happen and we continue to inspire this dangerous idea of fame and import as the 24-hour news cycle causes the outlets to run their name and photo across every television set, computer, phone, and then above the fold on the next morning’s paper in a prize-less race against each other to get to most eyes on ads in the sidebar.