“My dad was a white man working on that fence. They called me a half-caste. The children who laud each other, so dark, native and lovely for being such good hunters, Molly our somewhat pre-teen narrator holds a larger than child bunny pet sized rabbit on the crest of her well-sunned arm, as if a pet of fur. The lizard of the sun who also walks upright just as a human, who for the analogy of the film, as a rabbit. The nightmare of the rabbit fence hole, the white man who comes with phony paperwork to steal the children, who makes the mother whose child ripped from her arms wail on the dusted ground, and a sound you never ever want to hear again in your whole entire life emits. The grief of stolen children from a mother’s heart, which comes after hours of the bewitching prey upon her own soul for the white man to own what she owns, and when God denies him that due to his own, this very own wicked heart, then he steals illegally what he can. As always, he gets a friend of a friend to stamp the fraud legal. It is the children of a man-forced orphanage who suffer. Punished for speaking the native tongue as opposed to English, trained and treated as Pavlov dogs, the church here may had thought the disservice of an also forced religion upon the children used more as slaves, and most definitely as the true story of the film portrayed raised a whole lot less like children. The technical aspect of the film, the limited location of a white sanded orphanage base, the children whose parents live, hunter-gather and exist not too far away, the cruelest inward torment of the separation of the children who weep, trying to do so silently during the midnight hours, only to fall asleep and dream the fantasy which only for a moment, negates the nightmare of capture, and helps the children dream of good memories with their own parents ~ The face of the preacher pressed close into their face, eclipses that though, that and the constant pressure to rob the tiny mind of peace, to drive each poor child mad. Finally, just as the orphan Annie once decided, three of the children join together to run through a dangerous & treacherous sod of jungle woods and dangerous Australian brush. A cry for joy as sheer as rain, which also represents freedom, falls as a sweet deliverance on the heads of the justifiable runaway episode of orphan children. At the same time, a man on his journey, a type of or a kind of native tracker keeps finding signs along the way. A broken cedar leaf of bay color branch here, the children who also grew up out-of-doors there, mystifies him as he wades his horse through the creek and brush. He comes to them as a type of real Christ or savior, unlike the cruel and punishing church orphanage from which they fled, brings good meat as a better lamb sacrifice, on the back of his shoulder to eat. Meanwhile back at the white man desert cult style church headquarters, men as head-hunters dispatched to search for the children, cruelly hope to delay the escape of them to a better reality. “Watch out for those boys. They go out huntin’ rabbits along the fence,” a white woman along the way who gives them depression day looking coats and brown paper sack lunches, warns them. After the children who escaped as a rabbit through a hole in the fence, except a rabbit shot dead by mischievous bad white boys, back at the orphanage, the children squeal, and it is a sweet delight as the newspaper article one of them can secretly read tells them that those dispatched to hunt down the runaway children like animals found no trace of the children who escaped as a rabbit through a hole in the fence.