The romantic epic is back. With sweeping vistas, sexy paramours (Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman), gruelling hardships, war and the ever-present threat of a soft-focus snog, Baz Luhrmann’s Australia returns you to a time when men were men and women perspired slightly. Reality is found not in the kitchen sink, but in Kidman’s sun-kissed face as it stares in wonder at a widescreen horizon. And if you think you’ve seen it all before, you probably have. If you want to make your own, this is what you need.

A feisty-minded femme

The sine qua non of any self-respecting romantic epic is the passionate, feisty-minded femme. From Vivien Leigh as Scarlett O’Hara to Elizabeth Taylor playing Cleopatra and Meryl Streep as Karen Blixen in Out of Africa, these women are independently wealthy, strong-willed and invariably paired with taciturn übermen who, though initially hostile, will eventually succumb to their spirited charms. In Australia, Kidman’s hoity aristo and Jackman’s redneck rancher are just the ticket.

War, but not too much!

The romantic epic is not a war movie. And yet, war gives it a profound global sweep that suggests timeless mythical passions. Nothing makes the heart beat faster than a slow-mo fly-by from a Spitfire squadron on its way to battle. However, too much war can kill the romance faster than a Band of Brothers box set. In other words, Fred Zinnemann’s From Here to Eternity good. Michael Bay’s Pearl Harbor bad.

Location, location, location

Studio sets will not do. The romantic epic stakes its reputation, not to mention its Best Cinematography Oscars, on the gorgeous horizons of location shooting. Spurious reasons to go on jaunts in a biplane over such locations are essential – see, for example, Meryl Streep and Robert Redford skimming over the Kenyan savannah in Out of Africa. “Ven did you learn to flah?” says Streep, stepping into Redford’s banana-yellow bird. “Um, yesterday!” replies Redford, joshing. He’s such a card! It’s no wonder that they fall in love!

Burn something big!

All makers of romantic epics know that enormous fires are great metaphors for passions of the heart and fantastic sources of lighting for feisty-minded femmes. Scarlett had the burning of Atlanta in Gone With the Wind, Streep had the plantation fire in Out of Africa, and even Kidman has the bombing of Darwin in Australia. Must-have moments include camera lingering on femme’s face, lightly dusted with ash and glowing with indignation as she stares into the fire. Reflection of flames in eyeball a bonus.

Aaaaand cue the wildebeest!

In case you haven’t heard, Nicole Kidman learnt how to herd cattle on horseback for her role in Australia. This is helpful, as a huge chunk of the movie depicts a cattle drive across the country. In doing so, Kidman is unconsciously nodding to the buffaloes in Dances with Wolves, the flamingos in Out of Africa, the horses in Far and Away and all of the four-legged beasties that are somehow deemed essential for the perfect execution of a romantic epic. Again, like the fire, it’s a metaphor thing. About nature and stuff.

Real-life extras

This is not Lord of the Rings. Computer-generated crowds are not conspicuous here. Remember Scarlett O’Hara among the masses ofwounded Confederate soldiers? That was 2,000 real-life extras, and it set the tone for the romantic epic, where the money went straight on to the screen and into the pockets of hardworking “background actors”. The key epic shot is a crane upwards from our protagonists slowly revealing the bustling Russian Front ( Dr Zhivago), the bustling port of New York ( Far and Away), or the bustling streets of Tunis ( The English Patient).

No sex please, we’re epic!

Romantic epics do passion, not sex. Sodden clinches on beaches ( From Here to Eternity) and in front of waterfalls ( Australia) are fine. Even the suggestion of sinister sexual shenanigans will do as long as it remains unseen (remember Rhett Butler violently “claiming” his conjugal rites from Scarlett O’Hara?).

However, nudity, and simulated intercrural action, are strictly verboten. With hundreds of millions of dollars on the line, the epic producers, who are hoping to snare the widest possible audience (read “family”), will not risk alienating a preteen demographic and their sensitive parents with shots of DiCaprio doing the humpety hump on the Titanic. It’s tasteful, it’s oddly PG, but it’s part of the magic!

Size matters

The numbers don’t lie: Australia, 165 minutes. Dr Zhivago, 200 minutes. Gone With the Wind, 233 minutes! They don’t call them epic for nothing. Often spanning many decades, and bookended by narration from entirely different eras ( Zhivago, Titanic), the true romantic epic will make you feel the movement of the ages without noticing the passing of time. Failure in this regard is fatal, and has been known to induce comments of “Enough already! She’s dead!” during the closing third hour of The English Patient.

Unhappy endings

Strange one this, but the romantic epic loves an unhappy ending. Yuri’s dead at the end of Dr Zhivago, DiCaprio’s drowned in Titanic, Scarlett O’Hara’s abandoned in Gone With the Wind, Kristin Scott Thomas is dead in The English Patient, as is Redford in Out of Africa. And yet, ironically, these downbeat endings only underscore the tragic perfection of a passionate youthful love that never had a chance to mature into comfort, boredom and, ultimately, divorce.

Show me the money

Despite claims to the contrary, makers of romantic epics love to boast about the cost. Ever since Cleopatraballooned from $2 million to $44 million in 1963 (equivalent today to $290 million), the escalating budget has been the luxury accessory of any true epic. James Cameron’s Titanicfamously jumped from $100 million to $200 million in 1997. It makes Australia’s paltry $30 million leap (from $100 million to $130 million) look positively thrifty.

— Australia is released nationwide on Boxing Day

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