The Plumber (1979)
Movie rating: 8/10
Peter Weir had already made a cinematic splash as one of the leading figures of the Australian New Wave in 1979 when he returned to the small screen, writing and directing the low-budget Australian TV movie The Plumber (currently streaming on the Criterion Channel).
I found the Wikipedia entry for this one very interesting. It describes The Plumber as a “psychological thriller film about a psychotic plumber who terrorizes a grad student.” That may seem an accurate description of the plot—at least from the perspective of protagonist Jill Cowper (Judy Morris), a graduate anthropology student who shares a campus apartment with her husband Dr. Brian Cowper (Robert Coleby). The film certainly shows her terrorized by the disruptive presence of Max (Ivar Kants), who shows up one day, announces himself as the building’s plumber there to do a mandatory check, then gradually tears her bathroom apart along with Jill’s emotional stability and well-being.
From Max’s perspective, that Wikipedia summary might come off as unfair. A long-haired, rough-edged tradesman who fancies himself a folk singer, Max can certainly be off-putting. He is talkative and overbearing to an irritating degree; sings loudly while plumbing, makes “jokes” that come off like ominous threats to a woman left in her apartment alone with a strange man. But while Max is socially inept, has he truly done anything wrong? Or is Jill simply overreacting?
The dueling perspectives of these two characters are what make The Plumber more than the simple thriller Wikipedia suggests and take it into the realm of absurdist comedy. Oh, Weir maintains tension and keeps the viewer on edge with an eerie synth score and Max’s odd behaviour. But the uncertainty whether Max is a socially awkward plumber whose heart is nevertheless in the right place; or a calculating, manipulative psychopath stalking Jill makes every scene more interesting due to the different ways his words and actions can be interpreted. If you take Jill’s perspective, Max is deliberately intimidating and harassing her. If you believe Max is well-intentioned but just comes off poorly to people, then this is a comic misunderstanding (albeit a very uncomfortable one) and you laugh at the awkwardness of it all.
What makes the film even more effective are the social and economic themes underlying the action. One is the class divide that separates Max from Jill and Brian. Max is a working class tradesman with little education, while Jill and Brian are a highly educated grad student and doctor, respectively, from “posh” backgrounds. Max compares discrimination against the working class with racial discrimination:
Max: Some people treat you like a real peasant. You're just a mere tradesman. You know? Some people still have the sign on the gate, "Tradesman's Entrance." Talk about discrimination against the blacks! They're still allowed to flog those signs in hardware shops.
Jill Cowper: Aw, come on, no one thinks that any more.
Max: You'd be surprised.
While Jill is polite at first, Max’s obnoxious mannerisms and unsettling actions begin to wear on her. Eventually she wants him out of his apartment, but Max insists he’s simply doing his job. He asserts himself by noting that the buildings are publicly owned:
Jill Cowper: I'm going to get you out of my flat.
Max: Your flat? Listen, these flats belong to the taxpayers. This building belongs to me, just as much you. Educated people think you inherited the bloody earth! Well, I know my rights!
Along with class, gender is a major issue in the film. Much of its tension is generated from the inherent fear that women can feel in a male-dominated society—in this case, the vulnerability of one woman left alone with an eccentric man who seems more and more threatening to her.
I had to side with Jill simply because Max’s behaviour so clearly crosses the line. On his first visit, it sure does sound like he’s having a shower in her bathroom and singing to himself rather than doing plumbing work. He calls her “sexy” and denigrates her husband’s thinning hair. When after days of work with a woman who is clearly uncomfortable with him, Max sits in her destroyed bathroom at night playing a folk song he has written, the lyrics scrawled in marker on her shower wall—well, Max isn’t making the best case for himself.
That’s without going into the part when Max tells her he was in prison for rape. Oh, he laughs after a few unsettling seconds, he was just joking! She’s so gullible! It’s reminiscent of cowardly far-right trolls who invariably backtrack and claim they were just “joking” when people call them out on their bigotry and calls for violence.
The funny thing is, like Jill, I wonder if I’m being gullible here by giving Max the benefit of the doubt. But I do think Weir is deliberately trying to keep the viewer unsure. He’s helped by two strong lead performances from Morris (who bears a striking resemblance to a young Linda Hamilton) and Kants. Morris makes us feel Jill’s growing fear and unease, made worse by the fact that everyone around her seems to view Max as harmless (no doubt many viewers would suggest her husband and friends are “gaslighting” her). On the other hand, Kants keeps us doubting whether Max actually has ill intent. Sometimes he seems calculating and frightening. Other times, he appears genuinely embarrassed by his lack of education, or hurt when Jill erupts, tells him to keep his “filthy hands” off her and berates him for being a lowly tradesman.
The ending, however, seems to turn things around in regards to who the real villain is here. I had to take a second look at one key scene just to make sure one character did what I thought they did. All this compelling ambiguity makes The Plumber deserving of a rewatch. It’s incredible that Weir is able to pack so many layers into a tight TV movie that comes in at a lean 76 minutes. I always appreciate filmmakers who can do a lot with a little, be that in terms of budget or running time, and Weir shows here that he’s the real deal.