Film Review: The Correspondent (2024) - Australia

Reviewed by Andrew Chan (Film Critic Circle of Australia)
I rated it 7/10
Support my reviews by buying me a Coffee! https://buymeacoffee.com/neofilmblog
Support our reviews by buying from official DVDs / Blu Rays at NeoFilmShop.com
Kriv Stenders’ "The Correspondent" arrives not with a bang, but with the grim, suffocating weight of reality. It chronicles the 400-day Egyptian imprisonment of journalist Peter Greste, a story both profoundly unsettling and depressingly familiar in its outline – the foreign correspondent caught in a geopolitical vise, accused of crimes he manifestly did not commit. While the narrative arc may feel like territory trodden by countless "wrongful conviction" dramas, Stenders elevates this true-life ordeal through meticulous craft and, most crucially, a central performance by Richard Roxburgh that anchors the film in raw, human truth.
We are plunged, mercifully without preamble, into the chaotic heat of Cairo in late 2013. Greste (Roxburgh), a seasoned Al Jazeera reporter, isn't portrayed as a swashbuckling hero, but as a professional doing his job – reporting on the tumultuous aftermath of the Arab Spring. The swiftness of his arrest, alongside colleagues Mohamed Fahmy and Baher Mohamed, on ludicrous charges of aiding the Muslim Brotherhood, feels less like legal procedure and more like the jaws of a Kafkaesque trap snapping shut. Stenders masterfully balances the claustrophobic dread of Tora Prison – where time stretches into an agonizing crawl within concrete walls – with the frantic, often frustrating, diplomatic efforts unfolding oceans away in Australia and beyond. We feel the walls closing in on Greste, while simultaneously witnessing the maddening bureaucracy and political posturing that governs his fate.
Richard Roxburgh - His performance is the film's unwavering heartbeat. He avoids grand gestures or overwrought anguish. Instead, he charts Greste’s journey from initial, bewildered shock ("This is absurd!") through simmering frustration and gnawing fear, towards a hard-won, steely resilience. It’s a portrayal built on quiet intensity, the subtle erosion and then rebuilding of a man's spirit visible in the set of his jaw, the weariness around his eyes, the forced calm in his voice during monitored prison calls. He is profoundly, believably human. The film’s visual language complements this perfectly. The cinematography renders the Egyptian legal system not just as a backdrop, but as a palpable, sweltering force of oppression. The courtroom scenes are particularly infuriating masterclasses in depicting justice perverted; they are "show trials" where logic and evidence are irrelevant distractions to a pre-ordained outcome.
And this, of course, is the film's vital, beating core: its global political relevance. In an era where journalists are increasingly branded where truth is contested territory, and press freedom feels more fragile than it has in decades, "The Correspondent" is less a period piece and more a stark, necessary bulletin. It serves as a powerful, sobering reminder of the very real risks taken by those who venture into darkness to report the light. It is a visceral, poignant "thank you" etched in celluloid, dedicated to those who refuse to be silenced.
The film's admirable fidelity to the agonizing reality of Greste’s imprisonment means the second act occasionally succumbs to its own pacing. As the legal proceedings stall and the days blur into months, the cinematic momentum inevitably slows. While Julian Maroun and Rahel Romahn deliver strong work as Greste’s equally wronged colleagues, Fahmy and Mohamed, the intense focus on Greste’s internal struggle sometimes renders their individual plights as footnotes. We feel *for* them, certainly, but their specific tragedies don't resonate with quite the same parallel depth.
“The Correspondent" is an essential, albeit harrowing, cinematic experience. It doesn’t reinvent the political thriller or the prison drama. What it does do is execute its solemn mission with immense dignity, unflinching grit, and a towering central performance. It succeeds powerfully as both an intimate character study of endurance and a vital piece of advocacy. It reminds us, with chilling clarity, why the war correspondent's adage remains tragically timeless: the first casualty of war is truth. Stenders and Roxburgh ensure we feel that casualty deeply. It’s a solid, important film that earns its place not just as drama, but as a necessary testament. (Neo, 2025)