Tracks

Wasikowska inhabits the character of Robyn Davidson so completely in Tracks that it's difficult to know where the role ends and she begins. (The fact that she looks a lot like Davidson, as documented in the National Geographic articles that traced her passage, is almost beside the point.) Her elation is tangible, her anguish profound. The actress' subtly calibrated performance is so grounded -- no histrionics, no overplaying -- that it's hard to believe she didn't actually live through such a journey. That's what makes Tracks such a memorable film. That and the exquisite footage that director John Curran and cinematographer Mandy Walker capture of the desert at its harshest and most sublime. Davidson is but a tiny speck in some frames -- and a mighty giant struggling to command the elements, and her own demons, in others.

Perhaps the one complaint with Tracks is that its beginning is somewhat belabored by the build-up to Davidson's trip -- perhaps necessary but still weaker in comparison to the rest of the film. In its entirety, though, it's pretty close to sublime. Tracks is demanding. It requires viewers to be patient and mindful and to be comfortable with silences. It's a small price to pay.