The 1942 battle for Kokoda is one of history’s great untold stories. With international attention diverted elsewhere, it was up to Australian soldiers to defend nationhood against Japanese troops making their way south through New Guinea. A lesser known aspect was that of the ‘chocolate soldiers’, volunteers whom the AIF believed would melt in the sun once the going got hard. And it got damn hard, as Alister Grierson’s outstanding film documents.

Somewhere in the muddy, dark jungle of the Kokoda trail, a small platoon is cut-off from command. Under the most horrendous conditions imaginable, they do the only thing they can and head for base. This exhilarating story turns on detail, from richly textured shots of bugs and spider-webs to mud, dysentery and panic that filled every waking moment with grief and fear. This is not a film for the squeamish, and nor should it be as Grierson makes it abundantly clear that no-one could win in a hell like this. There’s not a moment that doesn’t feel achingly, terrifyingly real – testament to its director, the uniformly excellent cast, Jules O’Loughlin’s transcendent cinematography and John Gray’s evocative score.

Kokoda draws comparisons with Gallipoli if for no other reason than it will come to be similarly regarded as a landmark in Australian cinema (curious how we celebrate our greatest defeats). Yet it’s not a gung-ho gala of Christian certainty as Kokoda’s moral-compass is set never stable. Salvation comes from loyalty, mateship and the glancing nod that passes for deep emotion. It’s a remarkable feature for so many reasons, not the least of which is the haunting tension that fills every shot of every scene. It’s painful to watch – but you’ll be so very glad you did.

// COLIN FRASER