Ten Aboriginal warriors go on a geese hunt in their new canoes, ingeniously crafted from tree bark. Dayindi (Jamie Gulpilil – narrator David Gulpilil’s son) is jealous of his (much) older brother’s youngest wife, and so is told the tale of Ridjimiraril (Kurddal), an ancestor whose paranoia over one of his wives almost led to the downfall of the whole tribe.

The geese hunting sequences are filmed in black and white, directly referencing a series of photographs from the 1930s that inspired the film, while Ridjimiraril’s tale is told with a gorgeous sun-baked palette of oranges and yellows.

In keeping with Aboriginal oral history, Ridjimiraril’s story is only one of many, as numerous tangents encompass different characters in the tribe, including the chattering wives, lazy husbands, hormonal teens and crafty kids, plus an audience-pleasing, honey-loving loaf (Birrinbirrin).

There are toilet jokes (vengeful sorcerers can jinx you in all manner of ways if you don’t clear up after you go) and bragging contests about sexual virility that play just as well in the Midlands as in the Outback.

But Ten Canoes is not Walkabout meets American Pie. It’s layered and intelligent, with a climactic showdown against a rival tribe that takes expectations off in a fresh direction.

De Heer and co-director Peter Djigirr elicit fine performances from a largely non-professional cast, and David 'Walkabout' Gulpilil’s winning English narration is a solid anchor for the story.

The glorious widescreen visual beauty of the film is worth the reportedly arduous shoot – the filmmakers were shooting in crocodile swampland and required eleven spotters at all times.

Accessible and entertaining, Ten Canoes deserves a place alongside the very best of Australian cinema.

Rob Daniel