In the Australian outback, in the mid 1940s, Sister Eileen (Cate Blanchett), better known as “Sister Mum” by her wards, runs a Christian mission and orphanage for young boys.  One day, an Aboriginal boy (Aswan Reid) is brought to the small commune.  With no knowledge of English or of Christianity, his presence disrupts their idyllic lifestyle, but it also begins to show the cracks in Sister Eileen’s control over the monastery.  She sees the boy as a test from God, but it is a test that she does not fully understand. 

Writer/director/cinematographer Warwick Thornton debuted his semi-autobiographical film The New Boy at the 2023 edition of the Cannes Film Festival.  While it traveled across the festival circuit that year, wider distribution evaded it until Vertical Entertainment gave the film a limited theatrical release in the United States two years later.  The 116-minute film is a quiet and unassuming achievement, and with such singular creative control over the narrative, Thornton utilizes the wide breadth of cinematic language to help realize on the screen themes, fears, and desires, synthesizing them into a heartfelt poem. 

Though Blanchett’s name is unsurprisingly the largest on the marquee, her crucible, important as it is, is almost always in service of the new boy’s arc.  In his first role, Reid’s naturalism in front of Thornton’s lens is nothing short of astonishing.  This is compounded by the stripping of Reid of the use of dialogue, forcing the boy into an incredibly physical performance.  Without words, Reid must change his body language over time as he begins to learn the patterns of daily life, fall into a routine, and see Sister Eileen as a mother figure.  The relationship that blossoms is a central one to The New Boy, but like anyone, he will stumble at times letting down this new paternal figure and not always knowing how to make amends or even why his actions have caused such opposite reactions as intended.  Blanchett is, of course, a very generous scene partner using her dialogue as a tool to help convey the hurt, anger, or confusion as the scene requires, but Reid’s acuity to those same emotions cannot be understated as he struggles to learn what went wrong and find ways to seek forgiveness in his own way.   

Thiers is a relationship that is so furiously trying to take root but is met by roadblock after roadblock, not through any malicious intent of either party, but simply because they are both so purely human.  There may be streaks of selfishness or pride, like strikes of lightning that crack open the sky about the outback, but much like that metaphorical storm, it is all quite natural. 

That flash of pride is what keeps Sister Eileen awake at night, and we see it take control of her most clearly during a pivotal scene at the front end of the second act; the arrival of Christ.  A large box is delivered, and the children all help carry it to the chapel after we are let in on the secret that Sister Eileen has been running this mission keeping the knowledge of the death of priest originally placed in charge of the facility away from the archdiocese.  After a creative continuation of this lie, the shipment is turned over into her custody and at long last, her chapel is watched over by a massive crucifix. 

While Christ’s presence brings solace to Sister Eileen’s spirit, he ignites a furious, yet inquisitive, spark within the new boy.  With the addition of this newest member to the small community, The New Boy really begins to unlock its themes for the audience.  Finding itself somewhere at the crossroads of Guillermo del Toro’s The Devil’s Backbone (2001) and Paul Verhoeven’s Benedetta (2021), which is to say nothing of the former’s Pinocchio (2022) as its title character struggles to understand why one man carved from wood is adored while the other scorned, Thornton asks of his own title character to reckon with the feeling on ostracization.  It is also here where the until-now grounded film begins to introduce accepts of magical realism through miraculous sparks that fly around the head of the new boy, or when Christ speaks to him; a miracle which Sister Eileen can only writhe in agony with having been denied of herself after all the work she did to bring Jesus to her desolate outpost. 

In this way, Thornton is driving home the message of the beatitudes, that religion is most purely understood and recognized by the meek and the merciful, and so often the purest practitioners are those that live simply.  Religion is not about the strict motions of ritual, but through the free flowing acts of helping one’s neighbor. He takes that same thesis a step further by allowing an Aboriginal boy to be the most pure example of religion, looking past the routine so that the core message of religion can be unlocked, that is, a symbiotic relationship to our fellows and to nature. Thornton, though, reminds us that history has shown us that the politics of well, politics and religion, even beyond the Australian borders do not see this balance as viable, and when the new boy is baptized by Sister Eileen, he loses not only his connection to Christ but that of his Aboriginal roots as he begins to assimilate with the other boys.

The New Boy is a simple film, and one that is easy to overlook despite Blanchett’s name at the top of the call sheet, but it is that simplicity that makes it shine.  Thornton, tapping into his own experience, delivers a wonderfully cathartic and concise piece, brilliantly committed to screen by his own wistful cinematography and taughtly assembled by Nick Meyers in the edit.  It is a deeply personal blood letting, and an ode to anyone who may feel orphaned from their environment, but most importantly it is true to itself and that comes across in the undeniable revelations of the new boy across his arc in the film.  Thornton’s film may be simple, quiet, and unassuming, but he is wielding a strong and unwavering voice; one whose message echoes back to his own past with a sense of hope and calls out forward in time with the unmistakable ring of triumph.