It is not the bosoms, really. No, there is an earnest quality here that is dependent on performances and landscapes and an essential moral tale than on the bounteousness of bums and bosoms frolicking in Australia. Neil is always good, Tara Fitzgerland is fine, and that often one-note Hugh Grant works perfectly as a priggish English priest who opens up ever so slightly when all is said and done. And much is said and some is done. There is some absolutley wonderful photography and some perfectly awful and obvious photography that would make Hallmark blush. Pretty good script with the story wandering about more than a bit. Shorter would have been better and the blue shots of nude statuary of indifferent quality by this nice but hardly profound Australian artist(on whose life and an episode therein, is it based)could have been a one-shot affair for my money. But I liked it for the performances.