God in the dock

The Church is having a hard time of it at the moment. Quite apart from having to deal with the contentious issues of gay priests, childmolesting bishops and moneylaundering nuns (all right, I made the last one up) it also has to fend off potentially blasphemous attacks from the movies.

Following Jim Carrey's softhearted Bruce Almighty comes this rather more reality-based satire from Australia which takes to task God's earthbound representatives (including Anglican, Roman Catholic and Jewish - this is an equal opportunity ecclesiastical satire) as well as grasping insurance companies and the media.

It's a tall order and Don Watson's superb, intricate screenplay manages to hit most of the targets at which he is aiming. Plus, he throws in a little light romance and one of the best dog roles in recent movies.

Billy Connolly is Steve Myers, an ageing dropout who has given up the practice of law and, incidentally, family responsibilities, to pursue the idle life of a fisherman and beach bum in a small fishing village outside Sydney.

When his boat (which is also his home) is struck by lightning and completely destroyed he finds that the insurance

company refuses to pay, citing the Act of God clause buried in the small print. With no visible means of support and in debt to his ex-wife's boyfriend, he decides to take the matter to court and makes a claim against God - or at least His representatives.

As the case starts to leak into the media he is courted by a disenchanted reporter Anna Redmond (Judy Davis) who sees the chance to crack a real story and escape from the trivial column that is eroding her journalistic soul. Together they go into battle in court and in the newspapers.

Connolly gives full tongue to his giant comic persona here and he dominates the movie without swamping it. His various relationships - with Anna, his ex-wife, his 10-yearold daughter and Arthur, his dog - are tempestuous affairs and entirely credible. The wellwritten court scenes allow him to impersonate an advocate with wit and believeability.

While director Mark Joffe allows Connolly his head, he also frames him within the vast landscape of Australia: on the sea or against the sky Steve is dwarfed by the vistas of natural beauty; yet he seems to burst through the cramped confines of the courtroom like the seams of an illfitting suit.

It is a perfect visual metaphor for the character. The twists and turns of his actions and the repercussive effects on his extended family are economically drawn - the caravan park owned by his ex-wife and boyfriend is attacked by enraged conservative Christian groups - and the depiction of the church leaders (at one stage ranged in a dark room like the cast of The Godfather) is hilariously sinister.