THE NEW BOY

Warwick Thornton’s The New Boy is a quiet, spiritual film about survival, identity, and the cost of being reshaped by someone else’s idea of salvation. Set in 1940s Australia, it follows a young Aboriginal boy, played by Aswan Reid, brought into a remote Christian monastery. He barely speaks, but he carries something powerful, something ancestral. Light flickers from his hands—a beautiful, quiet symbol of his spiritual connection to something much older than the church surrounding him. The film never defines what this light means, but it’s clear: it represents everything sacred and alive in him that colonial systems are trying to erase.

The cinematography is stunning. Every frame feels intentional. The land is shot like it’s alive, watching and remembering. There’s beauty in the stillness and something sacred in how Thornton lets scenes breathe. The spiritual weight of the story is deeply felt, even without explanation and even when it’s uneven.

Cate Blanchett is incredible, as always. Her portrayal of Sister Eileen avoids cliché. She plays a woman deeply committed to her role but quietly struggling to reconcile her faith with what she’s witnessing. Her belief hasn’t disappeared, but it feels shaky, held together more by ritual and duty than true conviction. You see her unravel slowly, not through big dramatic moments, but in how she watches, how she holds routine, and how she handles the boy with both control and awe. It’s a performance that is subtle, complicated, and quietly unsettling.

One of Thornton’s strongest choices is refusing to over-explain. The nuns may not have understood the boy’s power, but they knew exactly what their role was. This was their daily work: baptizing children, replacing Indigenous beliefs with Christianity, and erasing language and identity under the banner of care. His presence creates a quiet disruption. His power doesn’t fit their doctrine, and instead of expanding their understanding, they pull him into their system. It feels easier to convert him than to accept that something outside their worldview might also be sacred, powerful, or true.

That said, I wish the film gave us more of the boy’s culture in the first half. There are moments that hint at where he comes from and what lives inside him, but I wanted to spend more time with him before the system began to strip it away. The second half loses its footing a bit, but by the end, the message is clear. Once he’s baptized and assimilated, his light fades. His gifts disappear. And it’s painful to watch. Honestly, it was painful from the beginning. But maybe that discomfort is the point. That quiet frustration, the tension that lingers, feels deliberate. Maybe it’s meant to stay with us. And maybe that’s how a film like this sparks real reflection, and hopefully, real change.

The New Boy doesn’t try to explain Indigenous spirituality. And while I do wish it went deeper, it allows those beliefs to exist on their own terms. The film didn’t reach as far as I hoped, but there’s still power in its choice to embrace mystery over clarity. Not everything sacred is meant to be decoded. Just like in real life, deeply rooted parts of who we are—our spirituality, culture, race, and identity—are often misunderstood. And that’s exactly why they need to be fiercely protected. Maybe the film leaves us feeling unresolved because that’s how life often feels. No easy answers, no neat resolutions—just a fable that ends quietly, half full and a little heartbroken.

In Select Theaters May 23rd. Releasing on Demand May 30th.