Film Review: Spit (2025) - Australia
Reviewed by Andrew Chan (Film Critic Circle of Australia)
I rated it 6/10
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A Welcome, Wobbly Return for a Beloved Scoundrel - The peculiar alchemy of a beloved screen character is a fragile thing. Twenty-two years ago, in the criminally underappreciated “Gettin’ Square”, David Wenham conjured magic as Johnny “Spit” Spitieri – a perpetually flustered, twitchy, low-level crim with a heart buried somewhere beneath layers of incompetence and sheer, sweaty desperation. He was a glorious accident, a walking anxiety attack in thongs. The news that Wenham would don those metaphorical thongs again for “Spit” (2025) was met with the kind of fervent, slightly disbelieving hope reserved for a long-lost, slightly dodgy uncle returning for Christmas. Does the magic hold? Mostly. Is the film surrounding him quite worthy of his sublime, nervy energy? Not quite.
The sheer, unadulterated pleasure of “Spit”lies in watching David Wenham effortlessly slide back into the skin of this iconic Aussie larrikin. It’s a performance less recalled than reanimated. The hunched shoulders, the darting eyes that never quite land, the voice perpetually on the edge of a yelp – Wenham doesn’t miss a beat. It’s a masterclass in character acting, a reminder that true comic creation is timeless. Whether Spit is navigating the Kafkaesque nightmare of an immigration detention center bureaucracy (the film’s new, politically charged setting) or earnestly attempting to explain the sacred, unwritten code of “mateship” to bewildered fellow detainees, Wenham is magnetic. He finds the pathos beneath the panic, the flicker of decency within the disaster zone. The comfort extends to familiar faces like David Field and Gary Sweet returning, offering a warm, nostalgic continuity for fans of the original.
And therein lies both the film’s charm and its central flaw. “Spit” feels like comfort food, a hearty serving of nostalgia for a specific brand of Australian larrikinism that feels increasingly rare on our screens. Director Jonathan Teplitzky and writer Chris Nyst clearly adore this character and his world. The problem arises when they try to graft Spit’s signature brand of bumbling, often slapstick, survival comedy onto a plot aiming for biting social commentary on Australia’s mandatory detention system. The tonal shifts are jarring, sometimes violently so. One moment we’re chuckling at Spit’s harebrained scheme involving contraband Vegemite, the next we’re confronted with the grim, dehumanizing realities of detention life. The film wants to be both a breezy caper and a pointed critique, but these elements clash like oil and water, never emulsifying into a satisfying whole.
The plot itself – positioning Spit as an unlikely mastermind navigating detention politics – is serviceably entertaining, relying heavily on Spit’s established persona for laughs rather than crafting truly fresh or inventive scenarios. It occasionally feels thin, coasting on our affection for the character rather than building something new and substantial around him. For viewers unfamiliar with “Gettin’ Square”, Spit’s eccentricities and the parade of in-jokes might simply seem baffling or wearisome.
“Spit” is a film powered almost entirely by the enduring, brilliant weirdness of David Wenham’s creation. Watching him inhabit Johnny Spitieri again is a pure, unadulterated joy, a nostalgic trip worth taking for fans of the original. It’s a heartfelt, often hilarious encore for a character who deserves it. Yet, the film struggles under the weight of its own ambitions. The tonal dissonance between broad comedy and stark political reality is never resolved, leaving the whole endeavor feeling uneven, like a car held together by Spit’s own frantic optimism and gaffer tape. It’s good to see him again, stumbling and scheming. I just wish the vehicle he was driving felt a little more roadworthy. It gets by on charm, but doesn't quite get square. (Neo, 2025)