Bruce Beresford, the Australian filmmaker celebrated for his deft touch with both drama and comedy, has always possessed a rare ability to translate complex social observations into engaging cinema. From the Academy Award-winning Driving Miss Daisy to the underappreciated gems like Tender Mercies, Beresford has long been recognized for balancing warmth, wit, and subtle irony. Yet, when word came that he would helm Get It at Goode’s, an adaptation of Madeleine St. John’s beloved novel The Women in Black, there was a palpable curiosity: could Beresford bring his signature style to a story infused with both elegance and quiet satire?
St. John’s novel, first published in the U.K. fifteen years ago and later achieving bestseller status in Australia, is set in an early 1960s Sydney department store and examines the intricate social hierarchies of women navigating the world of fashion retail. The narrative centers around a high-end salon staffed by women whose lives revolve around beauty, ambition, and subtle competition. Into this insular world arrives a young Italian woman, played by Monica Bellucci, whose presence unsettles routines and sparks both tension and transformation among the staff.
Beresford’s involvement signals a particular tonal ambition: the film is not merely a period romance or workplace comedy but a “black comedy” of manners. Where traditional comedies might focus solely on slapstick or overt gags, Beresford has a history of mining humor from the tensions of character, circumstance, and social expectation. In this sense, Get It at Goode’s represents a natural continuation of his interest in the intersections of identity, class, and personal aspiration.
The casting further reinforces this ambition. Guy Pearce brings a nuanced charm capable of navigating both dramatic and humorous terrain, while Miranda Otto offers the precise emotional intelligence needed to depict the subtleties of rivalries and alliances within a tightly knit female ensemble. Bellucci, meanwhile, embodies the disruptive force whose arrival challenges the established order, offering opportunities for both comedic mischief and reflective insight. The combination of these actors, under Beresford’s guidance, promises a film that is both playful and observant, capable of illuminating broader social themes without ever feeling preachy.
What makes this project particularly intriguing is Beresford’s return to a more intimate, character-driven mode of storytelling after several years of larger-scale projects. While he has long been admired for his cinematic craftsmanship, Get It at Goode’s allows him to explore the microcosm of human behavior within a confined social setting. The department store, with its strict codes and subtle power dynamics, becomes both a playground and a battleground—an ideal stage for Beresford’s blend of humor, critique, and empathy.
In revisiting St. John’s work, Beresford also reconnects with themes of feminine agency, ambition, and the quiet rebellions that ripple through daily life. The result is likely to be a film that, much like the novel, delights in its wit while offering sharp, resonant observations on society, culture, and the nuances of human interaction. With Get It at Goode’s, Bruce Beresford proves once again that even decades into his career, he remains a master of balancing laughter with insight—and, this time, with a deliciously dark twist.
