Handling the oxymoronic nature of a blind photographer who struggles with the concept of trust is only a part of Australian director Jocelyn Moorhouse's strength. In Proof, the winner of seven 1991 Australian Film Institute Awards, Moorhouse evinces her skill as a master of sensual manipulation.

The movie revolves around Martin (Hugo Weaving), who is blind from birth and cannot trust anyone; even when still a child he was convinced that his mother was lying to him about what she saw from their window. When she asks her son why he thinks she might lie, he says, "Because you can."

Martin's childhood is tainted by insecurity, a crippling side-effect of his mother's shaky feelings about his handicap. Martin's lack of confidence seeps into his adulthood and prevents him from trusting anyone, especially his seductive house-keeper, Celia (Genevieve Picot).

Celia lives up to his modest expectations when she torments him, leaving the coat rack or the vacuum cleaner in front of the door on her way out. But her antics have a motive--her love for Martin; she uses the booby traps to retaliate against his apathy toward her. They complement each other well. That is, until Andy (Russell Crowe) comes along.

Andy is a dish washer in a restaurant, and the two meet after Martin accidentally injures Andy's cat, Ugly. Their relationship blossoms when Andy begins to "describe" Martin's photographs to him so that Martin can identify them with a Braille label-maker. Andy has finally given Martin the "proof" he needs to overcome the handicap of uncertainty.

For some reason, Martin feels like he can trust him, till Celia, in her jealousy for Martin's love, uses her Machiavellian ways to give Martin reason to doubt Andy.

The denouement reveals Martin re-discovering the trust that he lost when he refused to believe his mother. In full circle, the viewer watches the development of Martin's security, using Celia and Andy as the catalysts in a visually and acoustically stimulating environment.

Moorhouse uses the gentle and evocative lighting to contrast and highlight the edges of this psychosexual love triangle. The music, by Not Drowning Waving, is soulful and penetrating--Moorhouse uses their accompaniment to enhance the importance of sound in the movie.

She also uses the camera as an implement to trace the outlines of certain features. For example, the first time we encounter Martin's mother, we see the child Martin's hands outlining and feeling her lips, neck and chest; she reprimands him with the statement, "Fingers aren't the same as eyes."

She portrays Martin's ingenious abilities to pour wine in a glass till the sound of the liquid ceases, and tell by the warmth on his hand whether the leaf he is touching is in the light or the shade.

Moorhouse also weaves humor into the fabric of her movie. One cannot help but be amused by Martin's method of catching the waiter's attention at a restaurant by pouring the wine on the table instead of the glass.

Moorhouse thus leaves the viewer with a rich fabric of emotional foreplay, woven together with the effective audio-visual devices and well-handled acting. One comes away with a sense of fascination and warmth. The poignant use of music and the implied sense of touch places the viewer inside the plot--watching the world, so to speak--through Martin's eyes. As for proof of the movie's worth, there is plenty.