Bomb Harvest is a thoroughly entertaining Australian documentary despite its grisly subject matter.
 
During the Vietnam War, the country of Laos was officially declared a neutral country by the United Nations. Neutral, you know, like Switzerland. This fact somehow escaped the attention of the US Army, who over a period of six years managed to conduct 580,000 bombing raids over the country.

Each raid dropped an average of 100 bombs; around a third of these did not explode on impact. That makes around 18 million pieces of unexploded ordinance (UXO) lying around waiting to unleash their deadly payload.

Despite the rather grisly and potentially depressing subject matter, Bomb Harvest is an entertaining and enjoyable documentary. Following the life of expatriate Australian bomb disposal expert Leith Stephens, the movie conveys its messages subtly and skilfully. It is at times moving, at times frustrating, and quite often laugh-out-loud funny.

Stephens is a wonderful character; nerveless, affable, empathetic with the locals and a larrikin to boot. It's hard to believe film-makers Kim Mordaunt and Sylvia Wilczynski could be lucky enough to chance upon him when their original protagonist was struck down by illness and unable to participate in the shooting.

Stephens's role is to train Lao nationals in bomb disposal techniques. He is aided and abetted by his interpreter 'Bob', an ex-Monk with a penchant for beer and women, and with a wonderful sense of humour.

The trainees are brave, humble and (understandably) more than a little nervous as they go about their field training. There are some 'you must be kidding' moments as the trainees attempt to dismantle 500 pound bombs, any of which could turn them into 'pink mist' with one false move. And there are plenty of false moves, fortunately none of the fatal variety.

Bomb Harvest is one of the best movies I've seen this year and I can't recommend it highly enough. By the way, at the current rate it will take over 100 years to clean up the mess. Luckily the US is chipping in with $1 million per annum to help clean up its mess.