“Young directors have something to say, even though sometimes it's a bit chaotic and not sure of itself, said French actor Vincent Cassel (Black Swan). Star of Ariel Kleiman's dystopian Partisan, he went against instinct to work with the Australian director, mostly because of that youthful promise.

Partisan is a difficult work that has splintered audiences and critics alike. Set in an unnamed mid-European state (exteriors were shot in Georgia, interiors in Mt. Eliza, VIC), Cassel plays Gregori, the dynamic leader of a secretive cult that trains child assassins. With a fierce intensity, he protects his numerous children and their mothers with a fervour that borders on madness. Quite what he fears about the outside world is not clear, nor is the purpose of the kids' missions. Cash, extortion, revenge? Who knows.

It's probably unimportant as Kleiman steers the story toward the relationship between Gregori and Alexander (a solid turn from French-Australian newcomer Jeremy Chabriel). He is the devoted prodigal son, a teenager who shows both military skill and political promise. Yet Gregori's taciturn ways, his frequent outbursts of angry discipline countered by conditional love, is leaving a mark. When he turns on Alexander's autistic friend, son turns on father in a riveting, near religious experience.

Or it would be if not for Kleiman's steadfastly occluded vision. There's little about Partisan that is readily appreciated and the purposeful lack of backstory is a considerable factor in limiting the audience's participation in the film. Motivation is poorly understood and mires Kleiman's intent in gesture rather than purpose. The mechanics of Gregori's commune and his fear of the 'outside' (orchestrated or otherwise), is a distraction from the central theme of father-son discord.

Inspired by a story of child assassins in Colombia, Partisan has lost much of its central thrust in adaption. Not that the mid-European setting is a mis-step, it gives the film a grey, uncertain tone that speaks to the horrors of Bosnia and Kosovo; while the sharp cinematography of Germain McMiking (Dead Europe) heightens the production's emotional core. Likewise, Cassel's grizzled presence solidifies that simmering terror to which Kleiman alludes.

With so many elements to like about the film, it's such a shame that the end result is so frustratingly elusive. Throughout there is an uncertainty that dampens any chemistry or charisma that might otherwise have helped us past the scripts more contrived moments which, in the end, simply pile up as a series of vexing question marks.

// COLIN FRASER

Previewed at Sony Theatre, Sydney, on 24 April 2015