2008

About a month ago I had to do up a little Top 5 for Drum, but it was not very interesting and it was not very accurate. I hate filling out these kind of surveys before December, when the films you've spent all year anticipating are scheduled for a Boxing Day release. This list here is a little more considered, but it's still a bit personal and it's still likely to change.

my favourites:


1. The Curious Tale of Benjamin Button
Having watched this film only recently, a lot of its images remain crystal clear in mind; that look of childlike wonder on an old man's face, the silhouette of an angelic ballerina against a foggy backdrop, clock hands spinning backwards, and eventually stopping. All of these images feel profound to me now, all of them being caught within the deep emotional pull of this epic tale. For me, this film's power is born from its ability to be simultaneously universal, relatable, and far-reaching, yet also unique, memorable, and personal - to at once be a story about a intimate romance and yet to also comment so strongly on universals of mortality, time and history. When this story finds support from some stellar performers, some balanced directing and some perfect pacing, it becomes an experience that is difficult to shake. If I had to, I could probably sum it all up as "debilitating, yet life-affirming."

2. Slumdog Millionaire
In retrospect, I do wonder if my adoration for this film is to some degree influenced by my experience of India. There are flaws to be found here - you could argue that feels contrived in moments, sometimes fantastical, never impossible but always deeply improbable. The film works, however, precisely because it is just like the country in which it is set. It is contradictory and colourful and almost unbelievable in the way that it traverses so many experiences and genres and feelings in such a short space of time. Yet within this web of vying emotions there are several powerful, moving stories, and three characters who inspire genuine connections, so it all works. It is much like a whirlwind trip through the sub-continent itself; the sheer multitude of images and emotions threaten to overpower, and it is up to you to find and focus on something solid or specific or unifying within it all (a character, a scene, a relationship), because once you do that, suddenly it will all make sense.

3. Dark Knight
A long time has passed since I viewed this film, and now I wonder what it was that I found so powerful about it. I remember appreciating the darkness, the grim commentary, the "topical" nature of it all, and of course I remember Heath Ledger, with the manic laugh that still manages to freak me out just upon recollection. I wonder now if this film really deserves to be here, yet I feel that out of all these films I've mentioned it is the most 'of its time,' and that it most appropriately sums up the '2008 moment'; dark, miserable times slowly giving way to the better part of human nature (hopefully?). Besides that it is adaptation at its best, and at its most cinematic. That is achievement enough.

4. The Visitor
This is a simple film, definitely the least ambitious of all those here, and definitely not one that will make it into many "top film" lists - yet so many aspects from it have persisted with me all year round. Again there is some commentary to be found here, but mainly this is a story of human connection and of reawakening. This film's greatest asset is Richard Jenkins, with such a perfect performance. I remember the subtle way in which his whole body relaxed, in which gradually, physically, he seemed to re-open himself to the world. Ah, it was a truly beautiful thing.

5. Burn After Reading
Who would have thought I'd be listing two Brad Pitt films here? I'm surprised, that's all I'll say. This one makes it in here because I have a soft spot for zaniness, and that is exactly how I'd describe this film. It is madcap zaniness tightened by a strong structure, which is exactly the way it should be. Also, how amazing was John Malkovich, as usual?

Movies I did not see but probably should sometime soon: Wall-E, Hunger, Frost/Nixon, Man on Wire.

Slumdog Millionaire

Slumdog Millionaire opens with two juxtaposed scenes; in one the nervous-looking Jamal (Dev Patel of Skins) sit in India's Who Wants to be a Millionaire? hot seat, in the other, uncomfortable close-ups show us his beaten body, as a fierce policeman demands to know how he could possibly have known "the answers." The entire rest of the film is dedicated to answering this specific question. We watch as Jamal climbs up the millionaire ladder, and with each new question we are thrust back into his past, learning the answers alongside him. Adapted from Vika Swarup's novel, this script is a perfectly taut tapestry of comedy, drama, colour and passion. It is at once the tale of a young boy's vigilance, of an idyllic romance, of two brothers' torturous relationship and of the daily struggles faced in India's most poverty-stricken corners. The strange fusion of popular game-show tension with conventional drama build-up absolutely works, delivering a final result that is gripping, engaging and moving. As the first film from this summer's much anticipated "Oscar-contender line-up" to make its way into our cinemas, Slumdog Millionaire has been preceded by a whole heap of hype and a plethora of awards - but director Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, 28 Days Later, The Beach) has proven his versatility yet again. This film is close to perfect.

Her Whole Life Ahead

Only Italians could get so worked up about industrial relations. Only this country could turn a film about unfair wages and inadequate tea breaks into a borderline-melodrama fuelled by a highly emotive, orchestral soundtrack. Her Whole Life Ahead is this film, but it is surprisingly enjoyable ride. Isabella Ragonese plays Marta, an intelligent philosophy graduate, who presents an outstanding thesis only to discover that her obscure specialisation and brilliant mind render her practically unemployable. Reluctant to enter the low-paying world of academia, she eventually settles for part-time work at a call centre specialising in the pyramid-scheme-esque, "multilevel" sale of a useless electrical appliance. As she rises slowly up the call centre ladder, however, Marta quickly discovers that her workplace is a veritable microcosm of all imaginable conflicts, where public humiliation and explosive personal break-downs are commonplace. That is, until Marta's 'knight in the shining armour' steps onto the scene, in the form of a disgruntled union official. There's no doubt about it; this film is nuts. In between Marta's troubled homelife as a live-in-babysitter, a couple of broken hearts, and an unexpected car accident, this story threatens to spiral out of control on several occasions. Director Paolo Virzi always manages to reel it in at just the right moment, though, delivering zany humour without totally compromising the story. It's not particularly moving filmmaking, but it's certainly engaging, and for young graduates struggling to find gratifying work there's a lot of relatable content here.

Vicky Christina Barcelona

Much like beautiful women and complicated relationships, a strong sense of place has evolved into one of the defining trademarks of a “Woody Allen Film.” After many New York stories and a brief stopover in London, his latest film, Vicky Christina Barcelona, is set in and influenced by the large Spanish city of its title. Like this setting, the film is eccentric, chaotic and colourful, marking a return to the screwball comedies of Allen’s earlier career. The film opens as best friends Vicky (Rebecca Hall) and Christina (Scarlett Johansson) arrive in Barcelona for the summer. An obtrusive yet strangely appropriate voice-over informs us that the two are alike in everyway, barring their approach to love. While Vicky enjoys stability, predictability and control, the passionate Christina knows only that these are qualities she wants to avoid. When the very charming Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem) steps onto the scene, the trajectory of the narrative seems inevitable.

As expected, both women go wild over this charismatic Spaniard, and fall into infatuations that will dictate the rest of their holiday. Allen keeps things fresh with unexpected turns and ridiculous twists, yet the core of the storyline remains reasonably predictable and somewhat unremarkable. Penelope Cruz’s entrance about half-way through the film helps alleviate potential dullness; she is quite captivating as Juan’s hysterical ex-wife, Maria Elena. Johansson also delivers a fine performance, developing some very intense chemistry with Cruz. Ultimately though, Vicky Christina Barcelona is a film enjoyed but quickly forgotten. Beyond the colourful Spanish setting and soundtrack and the sparkling performances from the film’s two leading starlets, this is basically a light-hearted romantic comedy. This lightness renders this film well suited to summer’s plethora of outdoor cinemas, but it is nonetheless likely to slip into obscurity as soon as the season is over.

Interview with Sherry Hopkins

This year’s Lotterywest Film Festival feels a little different. For starters, it’s much longer than usual. Spanning five months and featuring 21 feature films from all around the world, this season is the longest yet. More pertinently though, you’ll note that, for the first time in many years, French comedy darling Daniel Auteil is no where to be found. It’s almost incomprehensible.

While the Festival still features a healthy dash of light-hearted comedy, this year’s programme is characterised by its more serious, and more topical entries. “This is a very discerning and intelligent audience, and they want something meaty that they can talk about afterwards,” explains the programme’s director, Sherry Hopkins.

“They want current affairs, and what’s going on around them,” she continues. “As much as they like the occasional little light comedies, and they will like Pain in the Ass, the new Francis Veber comedy, because Perth audiences love Francis Veber [of The Dinner Game] – but as much as they like that, they’re also showing me that they appreciate these more grand scale films too.”

This year, audiences can expect to be shocked by Buddha Collapsed out of Shame, as it exposes the permeating influence of the Taliban through a group of Afghani schoolchildren determined to mimic their parents. They can expect to be baffled by the ridiculous true story at the core of Lemon Tree, in which a Pakistani widow travels to the High Court to protect her lemon grove from Israel’s paranoid Defence Minister. They can expect to be shaken by the Oscar-nominated Katyn, Andrzej Wajda’s powerful drama about the infamous Soviet massacre. All of these films, and many others, are guaranteed to linger with audience members, and to fuel plenty of post-film discussion.

Furthermore, while the Festival Films have always served as portals across the globe, Hopkins argues that this year their reach is also far wider than ever before. “It’s much more of a global picture than usual; I think we’re transporting people more this year. We’ve got two Israeli films, for example, and one Iranian film, Lemon Tree, which is a fine film.”

Despite this evolution, though, the Festival season begins as always, with a couple of lighter films set in familiar, Western contexts. “My hardest job is finding the opening films,” Hopkins confesses, “We try to open with an English language film if we can. We want something to ease people into the program, sometimes perhaps a French comedy. One year we had nothing so I put in Affliction, which was great and won all those awards, but was just too heavy.”

Last week, Sommerville lit up with Young@Heart, a heart-warming piece that sees pensioners reinvigorated by a turn towards punk, disco and rock music. Meanwhile at Joondalup Pines, the British comedy, Grow Your Own, which charts the relationship between a group of “grumpy old men” and the family of asylum seekers that take over a nearby garden patch, has apparently received rave reviews from Joondalup’s large English community. The two films swap locations for the coming week.

For those still uncertain, Hopkins has a couple of recommendations. “I’ve Loved You So Long is the best film in the Festival. Also, apart from the storyline, I think that the style of animation for Waltz with Bashir is amazing, that’s why it’s winning all these awards. You the Living also, is bizarre yet terrific. Every scene is like a picture postcard, and there’s this one scene where a couple get married on a house on train which is just mesmerising.”

In amongst these global stories, Hopkins also disperses a series of West Australian shorts. “I just don’t want to throw in any short with any feature,” she warns, “they’ve got to work together; usually it’s in terms of fitting the subject matter together.” Hopkins also hopes to one day premier a W.A. feature film, but in the meantime one aspect of the festival remains unchanged; its commitment to delivering fascinating stories from all across the globe to the most isolated city within it.

Youth without Youth

If there is any conclusion to be drawn from Francis Ford Coppola’s Youth without Youth, it is that the acclaimed director has obviously lost the plot. It’s been a decade since his last helming effort (The Rainmaker), but now Coppola returns with a film that is more likely to remind audiences of recent David Lynch than of anything from Coppola’s filmmaking past. The premise is that Dominic, an aging Romanian linguist (Tim Roth), is hit by a strike of lightning in 1938, and consequently returned to physical youthfulness. Nazi scientists are intrigued by this rejuvenation and so plant a spy in his hotel, but in the meantime the lightning also appears to have produced an evil alter ego that Dominic can converse with through mirrors. In amongst this all, Dominic struggles to complete his great linguistic work, while encountering a love from his past who is also wrestling with her own problems; a past life as an Indian woman that continually resurfaces through violent trances.

This basic description might hint at some deeper connections or explanations, but these are never forthcoming. The plot simply moves into increasingly unexpected and incongruous twists or tangents without ever reaching any emotional or intellectual heights. Excessively verbose dialogue only serves to confuse rather than clarify, in a classic display of empty pretentiousness. Tim Roth puts in a fine effort, but clearly struggles to develop an appealing or interesting character from this lacklustre script. What’s more, although this film marks Coppola’s return to the low-budget filmmaking form he used to so revere, the director seems to misuse the accompanying artistic freedom for the sake of it. The already-complicated storyline is only further cluttered by with unnecessary upside-down shots, extreme close-ups, jolted pans and surreal visual devices. The simplistic set design (with Romanian landscapes standing in for Switzerland, Malta and India) is disappointingly at odds with the madcap storyline. Essentially, Coppola has produced an extremely self-conscious, stilted and uninspiring work that will let down fans and newcomers alike.

Russian Resurrection Film Festival Reviews

This year’s Russian Resurrection Film Festival is as topical as ever, delivering a showcase of new Russian cinema that is dominated by social and political commentary on the country’s past and present. A highlight includes Karen Shakhnazarov’s most personal film to date, Vanished Empire. Essentially, this film revolves around a dramatic love triangle between three Moscow university students, but the historical period within which these students live shapes much of their character development. Set in the early 1970s, during the peak of Soviet power, Vanished Empire is a nostalgic return to an exciting adolescent past, and to the calm before USSR’s deterioration. This film succinctly captures the challenges that were already influencing everyday life (when Pink Floyd records and label jeans were available only through the dodgy black market), while also weaving in a growing sense of foreboding. It is easily one of the festival’s most watchable offerings, with a touching central storyline and some very relatable characters.

Captive is more explicitly political. From director Alexei Utichel (whose films Dreaming of Space and The Stroll have been featured in past Russian festivals), Captive exposes the folly of the recent Chechen war by portraying meaningless violence, death and destruction from all sides. While some knowledge of the conflict is probably desirable for a more worthwhile viewing experience, it is easy enough to follow the film’s central narrative. A group of Russian soldiers has been isolated in unfamiliar Chechen territory, and two of their number, a responsible commander and an impetuous snipper, have been left with the responsibility of locating a local guide to facilitate their escape. They seize a Chechen boy, but, in the process of drawing him back from the village to their troupe, an interesting rapport develops between the three, with some unexpected consequences. This film makes emotional involvement very difficult, with plenty of dislocated dialogue and long, meandering scenes of silence, so you’ll need to be in the right state of mind. Its conclusion is extremely powerful, though, and its message very important. At just over an hour, Captive presents but a small slice of the tragedy that that has plagued that area in recent time.

The (post-)courtroom drama, 12, also touches upon the Chechen conflict, by exploring its impact upon racial attitudes in contemporary Russia. From director Nikita Mikhalkov (who received an Oscar nomination for Burnt by the Sun), 12 is a distinctly Russian adaptation of Sydney Lumet’s 12 Angry Men. Based around a similar premise, it begins just after courtroom proceedings, as a group of 12 middle-aged male jurors are left alone to reach a unanimous conclusion. Unlike the original, however, where the accused is of African American descent, the accused is now Chechen, and therefore inspires similarly racist sentiments from some of the men. Only one of them is brave enough to speak out in the boy’s defence, but in doing so he provokes the other 11 jurors to think in more depth about the case. As they look further into the intricacies of the accusation, the men also reveal more about themselves and their personal pasts; each of them has in some way been touched by Russia’s tumultuous history. Intriguing up to its finish, 12 ideally captures the pervasive nature of the past. With some fascinating revelations and some solid performances, this film is a real festival highlight.

Bitter and Twisted

If anything can be said about the latest Australian drama, Bitter and Twisted, it is that it certainly lives up to its title. Every character unfortunate enough to be caught within this film’s grip is somehow struggling with an unfair fate. The Lombard family saw their eldest son die suddenly and unexpectedly in their very own kitchen. The father (Steve Rogers) has since drawn into himself and become focused on food instead of life, leaving the mother (Noni Hazelhurst) alone and unloved. Meanwhile, their younger son Ben (director Christopher Weekes) battles against infatuation and inadequacy. He’s in love with the girl his brother left behind (Leanna Walsman), while his best friend (Matthew Newton) appears to be falling in love with him.

The actors all put in stellar performances, but somehow these characters remain seemingly inhuman. This is because director/writer Christopher Weeks allows them no human complexity; or, rather, because he does not allow us to see it. Even though this is essentially a film about emotion, we are allowed no glimpse of character’s inner lives. Weekes lingers solely on the exterior manifestations of these emotional states, which makes for a slow-paced and slightly depressing experience, with little reward. Films about hopelessness are rescued from drudgery when they provide some sort of insight into the human condition, or are at least emotionally powerful. Bitter and Twisted, however, remains a struggle, because there is little to be found here beyond a superficial meditation on sadness.

Burn After Reading

Every Coen Brothers film is a guaranteed surprise, and their latest, Burn After Reading, is no exception. Following on from the critically acclaimed thriller, No Country for Old Men, Burn After Reading could hardly be more different. It marks the brothers’ return to the more comedic tones of their earlier offerings, and though it lacks the non-stop humour of The Big Lebowski, there’s certainly enough in there to keep you entertained. The all-star cast includes Coen golden boy George Clooney, alongside Frances McDormand, Brad Pitt, Tilda Swinton and John Malkovich, all of whom rise to the occasion in perfectly portraying clueless eccentricity.

The film weaves a twisted narrative web, connecting these mismatched characters through adultery, blackmail and internet dating. It all kick-starts after the dopey personal trainer Chad (Pitt, in an interesting casting choice) finds a discarded CD containing (what he believes to be) highly confidential CIA information. He and the equally ditzy, plastic-surgery-obsessed Linda (McDormand) trace this disc back to the recently-fired CIA analyst Osbourne Cox (Malakovich). This in turn inadvertently involves them in the love triangle occurring between Cox, his wife Katie (Swinton) and the slimy Treasury agent Harry (Clooney). The plots strains a little under all these complications, but gets through thanks to its sheer, unabashed wackiness. It’s not the sort of film that will leave you laughing for days, but you’ll get at least two hours of fun out of it.

Interview with Antonio Zeccola - "Bella Vista"

I catch Antonio Zeccola after his Saturday arvo soccer match. Much hilarity ensues as we discuss that clichéd image of the soccer-ball-toting Italian ex-pat. More seriously, though, the Italian Film Festival director confesses that soccer is his single break from the hard slog of festival organising. “Apart from this three hour break on a Saturday I am thinking about the festival 24/7. It’s always on my mind and there is just so much to do.”

Zeecola’s entire year is based around his pursuit of fine Italian Cinema, with a schedule guaranteed to make any cinephile salivate. “There’s a lot of research that we do, plus I attend the Berlin, Cannes, Venice and Toronto film festivals every year and that’s where I watch all the films and make the selection from what I’ve watched, before I approach the producers and formulate the programme,” he explains. “I’m looking for good films, but also I want to make sure they’re all different; not all about the mafia, or family, or anything like that. I also try to create a story within each festival. It’s like I’m saying ‘this contemporary Italy now,’ or, ‘this is how it was 1945,’ so there’s a message in each programme based on what I choose.”

This year, the festival’s underlying themes include a critique of Italy’s contemporary situation. “If we look just at the opening night film, Her Whole Life Ahead, it is a very sadly contemporary film,” Zeccola asserts. “It’s about a very creative, very smart young girl who passes all her exams with the highest accolades but still can’t get a job. She ends up working in a call centre and is forced to sell things that she is not interested in. This is only one example from the festival, but it connects to the message I’m trying to portray; there are so many qualified people in Italy who don’t have a job. In order to make a living they just have to do whatever they can do.” The director additionally recommends the political opera Il Divo, the period piece Wild Blood and the youthful drama Don’t Think About it. While Zeccola of course quick to add that there is “no bad film in the festival,” he does suggest that these selections will offer any film-goer a condensed summary of the variety on offer.

While it is by no means unusual to hear a festival director describe his current programme as the “best yet,” Zeccola’s words are lent gravity by the current resurgence in Italian cinema. “Since ten years ago, there’s been a resurgence of young directors who have been recounting stories that everyone wants to hear,” Zeccola agrees. “In Italy, up to 30% of audiences watch Italian films which is remarkable because, even in Europe, Hollywood rules. It’s not just happening in Italy, though, it’s also happening in Germany and France. That’s great because it shows that these people have been able to make films that local audiences want to see.

“What’s especially remarkable is that these films that have been very successful have not been blockbusters, they’ve just been made on ordinary budgets of five or six million Euros and they’ve made money back plus just in their own country, let alone elsewhere. Here in Australia we think that you need a lot of money to make great films and attract audiences, but I think Italy shows it’s possible on a lower budget. You just need a good story.”

If Italian audiences are enjoying Italian films, then Zeccola is convinced that others will too. He seems to evoke notion of civic duty when he explains why he feels so passionately about Australia’s international film festivals. “In the film industry, all over the world, we’re so dominated by Hollywood culture, but there is so much more. I guess what we’re trying to do here, through these festivals, is represent other cultures. I was born in Italy so there’s that extra connection in this particular instance, but as you would know, we run French and Israeli and Spanish festivals. In all of these we just seem to have this mission to cultivate and introduce different cultures to the Australian public.”

After eight years of success, he has no doubt that this festival will again draw in the crowds, in Perth and beyond. “When we started in 2000, our festival barely had half a dozen films and of course the number that people came was very small. Nonetheless, we were encouraged, because Italy continued to produce some amazing films and these films wouldn’t have be seen by Australians, be they of Italian origin or just cinephiles or ‘Italiaphiles,’ unless this festival was around. And the festival has continued to grow each year. This year, over in Melbourne and Sydney, we’ve already seen attendance increase by about 20 or 30 percent, which is remarkable.”

A fine turn-out inevitably eases the hard work involved in reaching that point, and Zeccola adamantly agrees. “I’ve been doing this for so many years now, and there’s still a personal satisfaction in walking into an auditorium and seeing it full. I especially love trying to gauge the audience, and tell whether they’re laughing, or whether you can hear a pin drop, or whether they’re restless. And I really love that part of it. I think it’s in my blood, I’ve been doing it for decade and I still love it, and I’m sure I’m going to love it for as long as I do it.”

Towelhead

Screenwriter Alan Ball has always been fascinated by damaged people; he brought us the mid-life crisis of Lester Burnham in American Beauty, and the twisted, uncommunicating Fisher family of Six Feet Under. Now, his attention has turned to a thirteen-year-old Arab-American girl named Jasira (Summer Bishil) with his second film script and feature length directorial debut, Towelhead. Adapted from Alicia Erian's novel, Nothing is Private, the film is a no-holes-barred exploration of the young Jasira’s sexual awakening. From its very first scene, in which we see an older man helping the pre-pubescent Jasira shave away her bikini area, this film makes clear its intentions, and it certainly follows through. This scene will be followed by many more like it, as Jasira encounters a plethora of sexual experiences over a very short period of time.

Call me naïve, but Jasira’s age feels ridiculous in the film. Not because thirteen-year-olds aren’t having sex, but because they certainly don’t acquire a mature, adult perspective on these issues over the course of one semester. So much of Jasira’s dialogue feels premature and unrealistic, and the adult characters mirror this same lack of credibility, but reverse it. They become caricatures in their universal impotence, seeming excessively immature and irresponsible. Additionally, it’s hard to handle the sheer myriad of issues that Ball has inserted into this film; psychological, sexual, political, social, the list goes on! They’re so clumsily wound together, and without any moment of relief (comic or otherwise). In the end, the film is appealing in that classic ‘car crash’ manner. It’s difficult to tear your eyes away from its relentless explicitness and its ever twisting plotline, yet the pleasure is perverse. It will no doubt leave you feeling viscerally affected, but you’ll probably be forced to question whether you really took anything else away from the experience.

Funny Games

Austrian director Michael Haneke (Hidden) claims that his latest film, Funny Games (a shot-by-shot remake of his own 1997 German-language film) is a commentary on violence and the media, and on the way in which “American cinema toys with human beings… [and] makes violence consumable.” He argues that, through to-camera asides and “emotional episodes” he successfully subverts the genre, and makes the audience complicit in these characters’ violence. According to Haneke, if you see this film through to its conclusion, you’re actually jumping aboard America’s cinematic violence train and tooting its horn. And herein lies the messy contradiction; Haneke is adhering to the very mentality that he so vehemently critiques. Additionally, he hasn’t quite succeeding in obtaining that level of subversion that is necessary to make audiences aware of his message. Funny Games therefore ironically ends up as just another mad thriller, not unlike so many others produced in America.

The film follows the affluent (and very white) Faber family as they arrive at an idyllic riverside holiday home. Annie (Naomi Watts), George (Tim Roth) and their young son Georgie (Devon Gearhart) begin their holiday in high spirits but soon find themselves unnerved by two overly polite yet unnervingly creepy boys who come over from next door, apparently in search of eggs. Dressed in white costumes that seem to eerily recall something of A Clockwork Orange, Paul (Michael Pitt) and Peter (Brady Corbett) make their intentions known soon enough; they find pleasure in psychological torture and gradually pump up the terror levels. Haneke doesn’t show any graphic violence on-screen, but this somehow feels all the more terrifying. Paul occasionally speaks to the camera, and these moments must be those ‘asides’ that Haneke believes subvert the thriller genre, but they’re not nearly great enough in number or effect to achieve anything significant. In the end, Haneke can intellectualise this terror as much as he wants, but that won’t change the fact that this thriller is ugly, terrifying and just as much entwined in the American cinematic apparatus as the next one. And where does that leave Haneke's philosophy?

Welcome to the Sticks

It's somehow strangely pleasing to discover that France's highest grossest comedy stars neither Gerdard Depardieu nor Daniel Auteil. Welcome to the Sticks (Bienvenue Chez Les Ch'its) instead cements the career of another French icon, successful comedian and actor Danny Boon (Joyeux Noel, Mon Meilleur Ami). As the writer, director and star of this film, Boon uses it to celebrate his beloved native region of Nord-Pas-de-Calais, located in the North of France. This area, which Boon so passionately adores, has traditionally been ridiculed for its unfriendly climate, its stinky cheeses and its peculiar dialect of 'ch'ti.' Welcome to the Sticks explores and challenges all these prejudices through Philippe (Kad Merad), a post office official who faces a disciplinary transfer into the region after he is caught trying to cheat his way towards the Riviera. His wife and son do not dare brave the freezing Northern climate and supposedly frightening locals, so Philippe goes it alone and, of course, discovers that the region is not all that meets the eye.

As with any standard French comedy, comedic deception abounds; Philippe's relationship with his wife has never been better, so, to ensure that she does not join him, he must keep prejudices undisturbed. You'll also find a sweet unrequited love sub-plot, a series of slowly-unfolding friendships and an underlying comedy of errors. In many ways, therefore, this film is not all that unique. Its phenomenal success in France can perhaps be attributed to its particularly relevant subject material, a lot of which is naturally lost in translation. Sub-titles may attempt to mimic that eccentric ch'ti accent, but ultimately this can only replicate a slither of the humour. There is just no way to translate all the cultural assumptions that surround this region and its dialect. Nonetheless, even on face value, this film is charming enough. Boon himself may not be that charismatic, but there is something quite charming about the good-natured characters that he has created, and their misguided stumbles through life’s obstacles. Welcome to the Sticks is easy to enjoy, even if, for Australians, it won’t really stand out from the plethora of French comedies that surround it.

The Visitor

In these troubled times, cinematic commentaries on American political issues are about a dime a dozen, but few have successfully lowered these global concerns to a personal level without becoming didactic, clichéd or self-conscious. Writer/director Tom McCarthy (The Station Agent) avoids all these trappings with his latest film, The Visitor, the simple story of a resigned academic who finds new passion and purpose through an unlikely friendship. It's through an unusual set of circumstances that Walter (Richard Jenkins, Six Feet Under) comes into contact with Tarek (Haaz Sleiman) and Zainab (Danai Guirira); they are victims of a real estate scam and living in Walter's New York appartment under the mistaken impression that he's aware of their presence. This comical beginning grows into a connection that swiftly reawakens Walter, musically, socially and politically.

To describe only The Visitor's storyline, however, is to do it a disservice. The film's success lies not so much in the plot as it does in its heartfelt script, subtle direction and touching performances. Even though the plot twists in all the expected directions and the characters all walk down predictable paths, McMarthy ensures that all these turns remain somehow surprising. There's a restraint to his writing that keeps every development devastating in its sheer believability. And, thankfully, even the most emotionally wrecking scenes are kept far removed from the kind of sensationalism that films such as this so often succumb to. The power of this film instead rests in subtleties; you'll see this in the gradual shift of Walter's posture, in the flickers of amusement that cross Tarek's face, and in those moments of despair that are marked only by silence. It's impossible not to be touched by this film; it's utterly devastating in its exploration of America's immigration policy, and yet somehow remains an uplifting story of human connection.

Far Away [theatre]

Caryl Churchill’s 2000 play Far Away opens not with a dramatic bang, but with a surreal calm, and a focus that marks this as one of her more intimate works. Theatre director John Sheedy paints the picture: “One of the first things audiences will see is this very quiet, elderly woman sitting there, darning a sock into a thing. It’s very simple, and it all unfolds and unfolds and unfolds and unfolds into something bigger and more complex.”

It unfolds into a work that twists theatrical convention and plays with audience expectation. Its neatly slides into the Black Swan Theatre Company’s varied 2008 programme, sitting alongside The Caucasian Chalk Circle as another example of 'Theatre that Challenges.' For Sheedy, “Caryl Churchill is one of the greatest British playwrights, because she’s always re-inventing form and function in her writing. She’s developed and always pushing the extreme, asking the big questions. They’re always, always political. She’s always speaking through the voice of the minority, through the little man and it’s mainly to do with women, because she’s a feminist writer as well.”

Sheedy describes Far Away as one of the first big steps in terms in what we perceive as a play, particularly in terms of its structure. It’s a play that jumps through time and space with no apology or explanation. “She makes giant leaps with nothing in between, and we’ve got to use our imagination to fill them,” Sheedy urges. “That’s what I love about her work, and particularly her later work, is that she’s forcing the viewer to use their imagination to fit in what’s happening in between – she doesn’t hand feed you the information.”

With a recurring interest in intertwining disparate realities, Churchill uses Far Away to slam together three separate scenes while eradicating any semblance of segue. The quiet first scene evolves into a conversation between the elderly woman and her little grand-daughter, Joan, but then, suddenly, there is a jolt into a future reality, where Joan now works with a friend in a factory, painstakingly crafting elaborate hats. Then, once more, the story lurches forward and into a landscape where the whole world is at war and Joan herself has become a leader in that conflict. “You don’t resolve [those shifts],” Sheedy emphasises. “Instead, you make them as bold and as clear and as definite as you can. You don’t apologise for it, as [Churchill] doesn’t in her writing.”

Churchill herself is also careful never to give away any clues, avoiding interviews and public appearance so that there can only be blind guesses as to her intention. “That’s what great about plays like Far Away, though, in a way when you don’t have all the answers there, and it’s a blank canvas with a big idea, it’s how you interpret it and what you discover and what you unpick,” explains Sheedy. “And there’s an amazing cast that I have, and they also discover stuff with you. I go in there having a fairly good idea of what she’s saying in this piece of writing and I also have a very strong vision to take the team through, but of course they always add and they add, which is wonderful. It’s one of those tricky plays, as we’ve discovered, just when you think you know what it’s about and you’ve nailed it, you go back one step and you go, ‘Actually is it this?’ And you have another question about it, and then you think you’ve sold that and you discover you’ve got another question. It’s wonderful though too, it’s exciting.”

It’s the kind of play that offers its director room to move through visual and technical experimentation. Sheedy is careful not to give too much away but mentions that the company has described his interpretation as “a mini opera,” and that it includes fifty choreographed extras as well a “large visual object.” He’s quick to assert, however, that this freedom is not absolute. “Visually yes, absolutely, you have that freedom, but… the language is so honest and so, I guess, that text, because it’s so descriptive the language, you’ve got to make sure you’re on the money and you’ve got it right so you don’t really have the freedom there. It’s the honesty, the absolute honesty of that voice, you can’t deny it and it’s terrifying to work on. It guides you so clearly and grabs hold of you and really tells you where to go.”

For Sheedy, this text is a blur of challenges and didactic intent. It’s a story that’s topical in all its strangeness, questioning mankind’s current trajectory with a nod to the absurdity of recent wars. “Some [audience members] will change, hopefully,” Sheedy anticipates, “and think about their own value system and what they do in the world and how they partake as a human being on this planet. Others will be confused and they won’t get it, and that’s OK as well. When you’re talking about how the rocks at war with gravity and the grass is at war and the Koreans and the elephants are on one side and the cats are with the French and dentists are with pigs and you don’t know what side the river is on, that all sounds crazy but actually I know what she’s saying and it kind of makes sense when you read it or listen to it and you just stop and just actually absorb that information and the chaos.

“You go ‘OK, this is actually where we’re all heading.’ We’re so advanced technically, too clever for ourselves. We’ve not keeping things simple, we’re impatient and we’re developing every day. War comes with that as well. The more we want to own, the more impatient we become, the more we develop, the more confusing and complex we become, the more something shuts down because it’s too much. Where do we fit in the middle of that?"

For a fifty minute play, Far Away is dense with themes and questions. Sheedy’s advice is for audience members to just sit back and listen carefully, without necessarily seeking instant understanding. “You probably won’t even get an answer until the next morning when you wake up, or maybe even the following week,” he confesses. “I do believe that it’s one of those good pieces of writing that sit with you for over a week or two weeks afterwards. Like any good book or play or film that you see or read. A good story will sit with you and have an afterlife, whether you like it or not. And there will be people there saying ‘what sort of play is that?’ and there will be people who find it incredible. There is no in between with this play, and that’s what I find exciting.”

Female Agents

Female Agents is a perplexing film. On the one hand, through its sombre dedication, frequent date/time inter-titles and its opening montage of authentic WWIII archive footage, it implores audiences to recognise its ‘true story’ aspect. On the other, through its stereotypical characters, sensational narrative, and melodramatic developments, it makes that very difficult to do. Based very loosely on real-life French partisan Lise Villameur, the film follows Lousie (Sophie Marceau) and her brother (Julien Boisselier) as they lead a group of all-female agents into a Nazi-operated hospital to rescue a British geologist crucially involved in planning the Normandy landings, before the Germans have a chance to figure out why he was there.

Director Jean-Paul Salome has handled his action scenes with prowess; the film is full of taut, tense moments guaranteed to bring audiences to the edges of their seats. Beyond these moments, however, the film’s soundtrack and dialogue allude to a deep profundity that is actually notably absent. In its place is a sensationalist, and almost comcial, mellodrama that permeates practically every scene, whether the girls are orchestrating elaborate attacks in burlesque get-up, or engaging in far-fetched romantic exchanges. Furthermore, these female characters are actually almost offensive in their simplicity, each sitting on the far edges of that age-old madonna/whore dichotomy. The discoveries that they make about each others’ pasts are predictable and arguably unnecessary. In the end, the film fails dramatically at crafting any real drama or emotional involvement, and yet unfortunately it seems unwilling to identify simply as an action film.

The Bank Job

Surprisingly based on a true story, The Bank Job follows a group of amateur crooks who find themselves positioned as pawns in a series of political manoeuvres. MI5 up-and-comer Tim Everett (Richard Linten) is on a mission to retrieve highly incriminating photographs from a local bank vault, but the catch is that he can not leave behind any trace of his involvement. He operates through the street-savvy Martine Love (Saffron Burrows), and she’s the one who seductively lures Terry Leather (Jason Statham) and his friends out of small-time crime and into serious business. Throw in a Trinidadian thug, a manipulative bordello owner and a handful of corrupt police, and things are bound to get a little complicated. Full kudos are due to the screenwriters for negotiating this twisted storyline with such skill and flexibility. The Bank Job will sweep you up and into this fantastically convoluted journey, and yet it retains that rare ability to make an audience laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of its narrative.

Roger Donaldson’s directing is pitch-perfect. His last cinematic effort, The World’s Fastest Indian, was bloated by its own sense of self-importance, and was all about the heavy emotional scores, trite dialogue and tear-jerking character developments. Donaldson seems much more comfortable back in the action genre, working with a film that refreshingly operates under no such false pretences. From its title to final credits, The Bank Job is unashamedly a heist film, and we’re all the better for it. The characters are all recognisable (Tim Everett channels something of James Bond and every archetypical villain is present in full form), but somehow they become all the more enjoyable in their supposed realism. And, even though these criminals lack the pure charisma of Danny Ocean and co., there’s something quite amiable about their never-ending blundering and that manages to keep us on their side the whole way through. This is heist the way it should be; tense, yet not without a sense of fun.

The Savages

Initially, The Savages does not feel particularly special. The heavy tehmes channel that all-too-familiar vibe of emotional family dramas, while the characters' almost comical squabbles suggest the film might be destined to end up on that ever-growing pile of quirky indie comedies. The strength of The Savages, however, lies in its ability to play up to both these images at once; serving up refreshingly real humour alongside a delicate insight into old age and its impact upon family members. Two of Hollywood’s most intriguing actors, Laura Linney and Phillip Seymour-Hoffman, play estranged siblings who are forced back into each other’s lives after their father’s girlfriend dies, leaving him alone with steadily advancing dementia. In adulthood the two have grown apart, but this reunion forces them back into long-forgotten roles as they struggle to look after a father who could never take care of them.

Siblings offer a veritable minefield of subject material for filmmakers, yet they appear relatively rarely, and it is even rarer to find siblings handled with such nuanced realism. Writer and director Tamara Jenkins (The Slums of Beverley Hills) has managed to perfectly sculpt that dynamic which is so particular to siblings, seeping it into their every exchange and sideways glance. Linney and Hoffman are perfectly cast, and admirably manoeuvre through the contradictions and complexities at play in their relationship, as they simultaneously strive to prove themselves and to prove their apparent indifference. Alongside them, all the other characters and sub-plots fade into insignificance; even their father is nothing more than the catalyst that brings the two back together. Arguably, some will find this frustrating, but for those in search of a relationship portrait with some fine-tuned performances, The Savages delivers. Delicately insightful and quietly thought-provoking, it makes an ideal compliment to this wintery climate.

Selected Rev Reviews

Complete with special effects, ghosts and bizarre science-fiction contraptions, Revelation’s opening night film, Island of Lost Souls, is not as far removed from the Harry Potter school of thought as the festival’s programme would have you believe – not that that makes it any less enjoyable. A fantastical romp into the realm of the supernatural, this Danish feature follows the strong-willed Lulu as she attempts to free a 19th century ghost from the body of her younger brother. A healthy dose of self-referential quips help lighten the mood, while powerful performances from the child actors keep up the suspension of disbelief. It’s very much a children’s story, but free-spirited adults should find this film an enjoyable ride.

Those who demand more serious drama might be better off with the French film, Le France, a love story set against the grey backdrop of World War I. After Camille (Sylvie Testud), receives a dejected letter from her beloved soldier husband, she cuts off her hair and binds her breasts in the hopes of joining a passing regiment to find out what went wrong. Pleasantly devoid of any war film conventions, director Serge Bozon has approached this distinct historical period with a unique stylistic and narrative vision (for example, Beatles-inspired pop songs break up the soldiers’ wanderings). Although at times Le France does lag, and Bozon’s slightly disengaged treatment of the characters can get a little frustrating, the film offers lingering rewards. Quietly thought-provoking, it will leave you pondering its meaning for quite some time.

Out of the myriad of music documentaries on this year’s programme, The Weird Old America: Harry Smith’s Anthology of American Folk Music is a stand-out. An eccentric philosopher/filmmaker/painter, Harry Smith is most famous for releasing a box set of folk song re-issues in the mid-1950s, and inspiring a resurgence of interest in the genre throughout America. This documentary traces his life, his projects and his influence, as a new generation of folk artists gather to celebrate Harry Smith’s contribution through five tribute concerts. Though not particularly revolutionary in its form, The Weird, Old America… presents a balanced mix of interviews and archive footage with performances from Nick Cave, Beck and Sonic Youth, amongst many others. The film’s enthusiasm for folk music is infectious, and at the very least this is a must-see for fans of the genre.

Interview with Nikolaj Arcel (director of Island of the Lost Souls)

Jack Sargeant, the 2008 curator of the Revelation Film Festival, describes the Danish fantasy/adventure film, Island of the Lost Souls, as “entertaining and fun… yet twisted, weird and a little subversive.” The film’s director, Nikolaj Arcel, seems reluctant to concur. When he hears this assessment, he laughs and then coyly admits, “I’d say the movie was actually a rather obvious homage to the kind of films that Hollywood does. I do try to infuse it with my own sense of humour, and a lot of heart and soul, but I think that it’s ultimately a very classical adventure film.”

Island of Lost Souls is, however, undeniably subversive in so much as it challenges our expectations of Danish cinema. Far removed from the more arthouse tendencies of Scandivian filmmakers (particularly those associated with the purity of the Dogma 95 film movement), this fast-paced, flashy, genre film is the last thing you’d expect from that corner of the globe. Arcel agrees, “It’s very different, but the really fun thing is that I’m working in the Denmark film town, right in with all the Dogma directors. During the process of editing then, most of these guys, like [Lars von] Trier and [Thomas] Vinterberg, would come in and help me edit and it was such a surreal experience, because it was clear that this was something very different.”

Arcel’s first film, King’s Game, was a political thriller, and much more in line with this Scandinavian tradition. “It was the success of that one that left me able to make something different this time,” Arcel explains. “After I’d finished it, I came to realise that this might be my only chance to make something expensive, so I decided to do something I’d dreamt of doing since I was a little kid, and that was an adventure film, which is basically what I had been brought up on…. I was really into those escapist fantasies like E.T. or Back to the Future – the kind that have an emotional, human story to them, with all these additional fantasy or supernatural elements.”

In Island of Lost Souls, this emotional core rests with the three central characters; Lulu, who has just moved into a small Denmark town with her recently-divorced mother, her new friend, Oliver, who is wrestling with his own family problems, and Hermann, the 19th Century soul who has possessed the body of Lulu’s younger brother, Sylvester. While the fantasy dimension evolves around them, Arcel’s characters remain firmly grounded in reality. They’re recognisable, relatable human beings, struggling to cope with these extraordinary events.

For Arcel, it was also important to position a strong female (Lulu) at the centre of the film. He ponders aloud: “I guess that shouldn’t be subversive, but maybe, sadly, you could see it that way. Certainly, here in Denmark, we have this tradition, this cliché, that every time you make this kind of fantasy film, even if it is for kids, it has to be about boys – boys having adventures. Most of my scripts have a girl as a main character, and I thought that just for once it would be good to make an action film with a girl at the centre, which was a very interesting challenge.”

Despite this all, however, Arcel maintains that he’s always seen his film as one for children. “I was actually sure that it would not be a particularly Festival-ish film,” he says. “I also never thought it would translate very well. Let’s say for you Australians, for example, you don’t have that pride of ‘Oh wow, they made a Danish adventure film,’ you don’t care about that! You have so many big great films of your own, and so many other English language films of the same sensibilities, so I did not think that this would travel so well. But then it’s always so hard to predict how your own films will be received.”

It’s definitely another unexpected choice for the Revelation programme, particularly as an opening night film. Then again, though, Revelation is far from your ordinary film festival. As Sargeant described it, “The festival is all about throwing people curve balls. I really wanted to have a family film on Day One, because people would never suspect that.”

Revelation Film Festival

A zealous defender of the underground and the independent, Jack Sargeant has little time for the blockbusters of mainstream cinema. Instead, he has devoted his life to the hunt for more open and more challenging forms of filmic expression. Having written several books on the topic of underground cinema, contributed writing to various other collections and publications, and extensively toured through the world’s largest independent film festivals, he has a CV to match his passion and the perfect for Revelation Film Festival’s 2008 curator. The hunt for films beyond the mainstream has after all been his life’s focus. It’s only appropriate then, that when I arrive to meet Sargeant at a bustling Mt Lawley café, I catch him in the midst of an impassioned discussion about the latest Narnia film and its many vices.

This discussion inevitably provokes Sargeant to list a couple of independent films that have worked within a simple genre to produce cleverer results. “I’ve been doing it since I was 20, I’m wired this way!” Sargeant professes. “There’s a poster for The Velvet Underground that says, ‘So far underground you get the bends,’ and I’m like that. People ask where I found this or that film, but it’s just my world. I can sense these things. It’s like spider senses, but I have an underground film sense, just because I’ve been involved in that world for so long.”

For Sargeant, the Revelation programme evolved organically from a process that involved contacting old friends and following word of mouth. Appropriately, the final film list does mirror Sargeant’s own interests and passions. In particular, the high number of music documentaries reflects his concurrent interest in particular genres and musicians. For example, What we do is Secret, a biopic in the style of Control, focuses on one of Sargeant’s favourite bands, The Germs, while My Name is Albert Ayler and Weird Old America reflect his interest in free jazz and folk respectively. “All these music films are about stuff that I really love,” he admits. “It’s about sharing the music as much as it is about sharing the film, so will hopefully appeal to film and music buffs alike.”

While it may mirror Sargeant’s personality, the programme also paints a picture of trends in independent and underground cinema. As usual, it is dominated by documentaries; 19 to 11 features. “In terms of film as form of empowerment for individuals, anyone can make a documentary,” Sargeant suggests. “Everyone has a camera and editing software these days, so a lot of documentaries are being made, like Tarnation [which screened at a previous Revelation Film Festival] which was made for like $100. And obviously these films aren’t all getting a lot of attention. A lot more feature films are picked up by distributors, and if they’re going to be picked up and screened widely then there’s no point in showcasing them here. So, Revelation has always had a history of focusing on documentaries.”

Joining Revelation’s documentary hall of fame is a whole host of films focused on musicians, as well as a couple of quirky numbers such as The Last American Freak Show (the title says it all) and Hell on Wheels (which looks at 1970s’ women’s roller derby). There are several films that look specifically at individuals; Words of Advice follows William Burroughs during the last years of his life, while Gonzo: The Life and Death of Dr. Hunter S. Thomson combines archived footage and extensive interviews to present the infamous author as he has never been seen before. Some social documentaries have also made the cut, including Begging Naked, which looks at the impact the recent New York clean-up had upon the poorer portion of its people, and Flow, which focuses on water politics and economics. Sargeant is adamant that these films achieve something that more mainstream documentaries may struggle with, particularly An Inconvenient Truth.

“All these hipsters have gravitated towards Al Gore but he’s part of the power machine and I find that very troubling,” he sighs. “Al Gore’s wife Tippa Gore actually persecuted The Dead Kennedys for being obscene; she was one of the Washington Wives. And Al Gore, he wants to be in charge of America, so that’s an instant warning… [These Festival films] are different, they’re made by people who are politically directly engaged, and Begging Naked is actually made by a friend of one of the women who is the documentary’s focus.”

The programme is also dotted with a fair portion of films that explore specific Australian issues. The Tumbler is an Australian thriller that explores Australia’s experience of colonialism through its multicultural characters. Spirits, another documentary, explores the nature of Nyoongar storytelling. Sargeant adds, “It’s an amazing documentary… and I’m not interested foregrounding it as about indigenous issues, it’s just a really good film. I think that as soon as you start labelling films, people start projecting meaning on them.”

The label of “Queer,” however, is one that Sargeant has applied to some of his films, though he appreciates the gravity of the term. “There are large parts of the gay community who would rather see it called Gay Cinema or Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Cinema; it’s a political gesture on my part as a curator…,” he explains. “It’s a term that engages with a whole range of political and cultural gestures, but it’s appropriate because the Queer films that we’re screening, Pangrogeny Manifesto, Words of Advice and even Cthuli (a thriller) are all about gay and lesbian politics in a way.”

Finally, the programme also includes a focus on experimental film, with a special event showcase of work from Britain. We discuss the hesitation that seems to stop certain people from engaging with experimental film and Sargeant chews over the topic: “I don’t know what people think experimental cinema is, but it’s beautiful stuff. It’s stunning to look at, vivid, vibrant cinema. People are scared of the word “experimental,” but in The Matrix, all that dodging of bullets and floating in mid-air is experimental, and that Australian film last year, Noise, that sound of tinnitus is also experimental. Yesterday’s experiments are tomorrow’s normal cinema, so every experiment in cinema is a good one.

“Change is good, risk is good, people should want to risk things and change their perspective. That’s the importance of Rev; that it will give you something you’re not going to normally see.” At this point I ask if he has any personal recommendation, and Sargeant suggests that everyone should see simply one thing that they had not previously heard of. “Take a risk, the worst thing that will happen is that you’ll see something you don’t like,” he urges. “But at least you will have seen something that has challenged you and changed you and that you can talk about. Otherwise, you can always just go and watch Narnia.”

Unfinished Sky

Adopted from the Dutch drama The Polish Bride (De Poolse Bruid), Unfinished Sky was originally the story of a Polish woman who moved into Holland after the fall of the Berlin Wall, pursuing prostitution in order to finance the daughter she had left back at home. In Australian version, rewritten by Peter Duncan (Children of the Revolution), the same Dutch actress, Monic Hendrickx, returns to play the heroine, but now she is an Afghani refugee called Tahmeena, who has fallen into a desperate set of circumstances in a small Queensland town. The film opens as Tahmeena, bruised, bleeding and hysterical, wanders onto the property of the withdrawn farmer John Woldring (William McInnes). Fortunately, John fears police more than he fears strangers, and so he keeps the strange woman a secret. As he slowly brings her back to life, they communicate through an endless game of charades and mumblings, and Tahmeena’s Dari is not sub-titled, so we experience the frustration of miscommunication right alongside him. This continues, until gradually (and predictably) Tahmeena and John find that their connection exceeds the limitations of language.

The fact that this Dutch story could so easily be transformed for an Australian audience raises some interesting points about our world’s shared experience of globalisation, and the universality of human connection. Sadly, the film is ill-equipped to deal with such meaningful messages. Yes, there are some lovely moments in the film (the chemistry between Tahmeena and John feels genuine), and certainly these are important and topical themes. It’s also refreshing to see McInnes to take on a new role (not the fast-talking journalist for once), and actually deliver a convincing performance as the stoic farmer. Beyond Tahmeena and John’s enthralling connection, however, the film feels cheap, as if underdeveloped. The secondary characters are all flat caricatures, the dialogue often feels contrived and stilted, and the inclusion of so many arbitrary flashbacks serves only to belittle Tahmeena’s traumatic past. With each new scene, the plot grows more and more unbelievable – watch out for Tahmeena’s almost instant grasp of English! When you’re noticing inconsistencies like that, you know the film has made a mistake somewhere along the line.

Rating: 6.0

Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian

If you haven’t seen the first film or read all the books, the second instalment in the Chronicles of Narnia might leave you feeling as if you’ve missed some crucial detail along the way. For a film to have you yearning for a “Previously on Narnia” segment is never a good sign, and it’s a reflection of how, from the offset, this film fails to deliver on the plot front. In terms of plot, we start off by following the four Pevensie children as they return to the magical world of Narnia. Previously their portal was a wardrobe, but now it is the London underground, where they’re awaiting a coming train when a sudden gust of magic sweeps them onto an idyllic beach in Narnia. 1300 years have passed since their last visit, and the decadence they once enjoyed has been destroyed, with the diminished Narnian populace now hunted by the aggressive Telmarines. The magic that once filled the land is fading fast, and, with Aslan in hiding, the only way to for the children to save Narnia is by enlisting the support of the recently-exiled Telmarine Prince, Caspian (Ben Barnes).

While you might be expecting the plot to develop from there, it really doesn’t. The film’s central conflict simply develops into a series of elongated battle scenes that swiftly become repetitive and tedious to watch. The filmmakers are clearly channelling The Lord of the Rings here, but their choreography and computer-generated warriors are far inferior (when getting through some of those LOTR battles was already a challenge for many). Some sort of romantic chemistry is half-heartedly developed between Caspian and Susan (Anna Popplewell), but that never really gets off the ground. Aslan and the White Witch appear in what can only be described as ‘cameo’ appearances that feel rather arbitrary and distracting. The talking animals and the stunning scenery are highlights, but even a humorously indignant mouse voiced by Eddie Izzard won’t make up for the lack of a compelling story.

Rating: 6.0

Is Green the New Black?

“There’s no debate in this town without me – on any issue or at any level of government or religion or even in a household. I will always be called in. My opinion is sacrosanct in this town.”

These humble words belong to Perth comedian, Paul “Werzal” Montague, one of six comedians invited to participate in the upcoming “Is Green the New Black?” Comedy Debate. Hosted by the Conservation Council, and set to take place on World Environment Day, the debate will be traditional in structure, but unique in its speakers. With Malcolm Dix, Andrew McDonald, Steven McKiernan, Xavier Susai, and Nicole Hodgson joining Werzal, the ideas expressed are bound to get a little controversial.

Personally, Werzal doesn’t consider himself ‘green,’ and admits that his carbon footprint is “probably king-kong like.” Werzal was obviously selected not for his position on environmentalism, but rather for his comedic expertise. He has been moving through Perth’s comedy scene since the early nineties, and has worked as a comedian for both the ABC and 96FM. For him, environmentalism is just “something you do.” That said, Werzal’s more pragmatic appraisal of environmentalism does leave him in an ideal position to argue for the negative side of this debate.

“I think the organisers clearly read which people made sense for which side,” Werzal agrees, “because there will be a lot of comedians on the positive side, like Malcolm Dicks or Andrew McDonald, who will inevitably leap on the bandwagon to try and impress the smelly-armpit-dreadlock brigade by harping on about the environment. The thing is that I have no objection to saving the planet. I’m into that, just let’s not pretend it’s cool. That’s all I’m saying.”

Werzal doesn’t agree that Hollywood’s recent attention to climate change issues renders environmentalism attractive. Instead, he believes that “the more you preach something, the less sexy it becomes,” even when hot young things like Cameron Diaz and Leonardio DiCaprio are heading the campaign. “The more celebrities stand up and preach, the less cool it is and the less cool they are. The thing is that, with the impact of human existence on our poor little planet earth, we’re never going to be able to relax and say, ‘Everyone’s doing a great job, just chill out for a while and we’ll get back to these practices in ten years.’ The urgency is always going to be there, and as long as people are saying ‘Do it, do it, it’s got to be done,’ it’s never going to be hip.”

He explains his position by likening conservation to toe-nail cutting, as something that you can care about only in so much as you know it has to be done. “It’s a pragmatic issue, like teeth-flossing or monogamy,” he adds. “It’s something you do because the consequences of not doing it are worse than doing…. I object to the premise of ‘green is the new black’ because it kind of implies that green is somehow sexy, that it’s cool or hip. It’s neither cool nor hip, or sexy or mysterious like black. It’s not fun, it’s not good times, it’s not something you feel special doing, it’s just something you do.”

With such passionate conviction, it will be interesting to see Werzal under the pressure of rebuttal. He believes, however, that comedy is ideally pre-disposed to respond to such questions. “It’s a temptation to get too political or too preachy but you’ve definitely got to do this,” he emphasises. “I think what comedy has to do is look at what we’re being told and ask questions of it. A lot of these issues are present to us as, ‘We must…’ And what I want to do, as a comedian, is ask ‘We must… what?’ or ‘We must… why?’”

Love in the Time of Cholera

From the moment that Mike Newell (the director of such classics as Four Weddings and a Funeral and Mona Lisa Smile) decided that he would be the one to adapt Columbian author Gael Garcia Marquez’s classic, Love in the Time of Cholera, this film was doomed. Where Marquez’s story of a fifty-year love triangle between Florentino Ariza, Fermina Daza and Juvenal Urbino is epic, romantic and magical, Newell’s film version is tedious, clichéd and cheap. The setting and costume design feel self-consciously exotic (palm trees everywhere!), the central relationship is reduced to a series of superficial “will they/won’t they” moments (though we don’t really care either way) and the characters are all ridiculous caricatures (in particular, watch out for John Leguizamo’s awful turn as Fermina’s whip-cracking father). Newell’s effort can be most succinctly summarised by his choice of Shakira for the soundtrack; he just does not get it.

Perhaps the novel was just not appropriate for adaptation. It’s true that on paper, the story comes alive through Marquez’s rich writing and the intricate detail with which he recounts each of Florentino’s pursuits. Without this lyrical beauty, the story is reduced to an exercise in time biding, in anticipation of that inevitable point of gratification. Still, this is where Newell could have used the tools of cinema to craft something more appropriate (and less tacky). Instead, he’s also chosen to ignore one of the most intriguing aspects of Marquez’s writing; his magical realism. And Lord knows that any sort of break in the trudging narrative of this film would have been a welcome one. With flat characters, unconvincing relationships and a slow-moving plot to boot, this is a cinema experience to avoid at all costs.

1.0

Spanish Film Festival

Few people can boast about having watched over 1000 Spanish films in just 11 years, but this precise achievement is Natalia Ortiz’s unusual claim to fame. As the founding director of Australia’s Spanish Film Festival, she’s spent over a decade jumping through Spanish cinemas on the lookout for that special “something.” Her years are now marked by the familiar build-up to another festival, by seasonal trawls through DVD previews, and annual trips to international film festivals in search of cinematic goodies. And every year she emerges with a wide-reaching selection of the best that Spain has to offer.

“It never gets dull,” she explains, in her rich Spanish accent. “The most interesting thing about putting the programme together is that you always have to consider the wide audience. On the one hand, you have your Australian audience. On the other, you have to think about the Spanish community, and not only the young Spanish community who are really up to date with what is happening in Spain, but also the older part of that community, who feel as if they don’t understand what’s happening in Spanish cinema these days. So I try to bring in some classical films for them. And for me that’s the exciting part; that the audience is really wide and we have kids who are 7 years old through to 70 year-olds, and we’re trying to reach all those people, and present all of them with fresh films every year.”

No where are these conflicting intentions better exemplified than in Ortiz’s choice to include a ‘spotlight’ on Spanish actress Maribel Verdu. An icon for Spaniards, Verdu has produced over 50 films of varying genres, so this showcase offers ex-patriots the chance to get a little nostalgic. Simultaneously, Verdu is on the verge of Hollywood success, so in a way this is Ortiz’s pre-emptive attempt to familiarise Australians with her image. “Normally people do tend to present these spotlights at the end of an actor or actress’s career, but I can see that she is going to be a huge star internationally. She’s shooting now a film with [Francis Ford] Coppola, so I thought it was about time for us to show off to Australia that we’ve got a ‘new’ actress coming up. And now she’s reachable like never before, so it’s the perfect time for us to share this icon that we grew up with, with the rest of the country.”

Such specific focuses are, however, not usually sufficient for drawing in a non-Spanish Australian crowd. So, this year, the festival’s promotional buzz has instead focused around its inclusion of a few high-budget horror films, sending hype to an all-time high. As Ortiz notes, however, Spain has long been infatuated with the genre, especially with thriller and horror. She snorts congenially at the idea of a horror film emerging from France, and thus reflects Spain’s long-standing cinematic identity as one of the only European countries not to shy away from genre.

“We’ve always been interested in thrillers and horrors in Spain, and this year it just coincides that the ones that have been released have been well received internationally. You’ve got films like [REC] and The Orphanage that are being viewed all over the world, so I think that’s what makes it seem different, as if we’re producing more. Maybe some people who have not been following Spanish cinema will assume that this is new for Spain, but in fact we’ve already had previous films from the director of [REC] in this festival. We have been producing these kinds of films from years.”

Despite some remaining misconception, it’s with an obvious pride that Ortiz describes her festival’s role in familiarising Australian cineastes with Spain’s own filmic traditions. She clearly associates cinema with a loose form of cultural education, adding, “At the beginning [11 years ago], the vast majority of the audience did not know much about Spanish cinema, but now you can see, from responses and questions, that they are getting a greater knowledge and understanding of the cinema. It’s a process.”

For Ortiz, though, that more educational function of the festival can only ever be a bonus. It’s obvious that her primary focus is instead on uncovering powerful stories that Australians might not otherwise see. When she’s watching movie after movie, Ortiz isn’t so much looking for a film that reflects contemporary Spain as she is for a film that is honest in its storytelling. “In the end, I just want honesty,” she stresses. “You can see, and the audience can feel it straight away too, if the film director is trying to hard to please someone and is not honest with the story. For me, it doesn’t matter if it’s a big or small production, or from a film school in Madrid or Barcelona, I don’t mind where it comes from, so long as it’s honest and has that minimum quality.”

It’s this hunt that has increasingly lead Ortiz towards Spanish co-productions. “A lot of the most fascinating films in Spanish cinema are emerging from this co-operation with not only Latin America, but also places like Morocco and European countries. It makes sense, I mean, at the moment people are moving all over the world, so to limit your people’s stories to particular places and cities would be very restrictive and very unrealistic. In fact, I think the richness of what is happening at the moment comes from the fact that we’re living all over the world yet we all enjoy the same sort of stories. Making films with other people and telling trans-national stories is the richness of our current reality. For me, not only in terms of finance, but also in terms of storytelling, the future is co-production.”

And it’s also this search that often draws Ortiz towards debut directors, with almost half of 2008’s programme coming directly from first-timers. With a laugh, Ortiz admits that she’s gotten pretty at good at intercepting talent over these past 11 years. “What’s really great is we’re now starting to see the first or second film released from directors whose short films we screened years ago. So I look at that and say ‘Oh I was not so wrong there!’ and it’s very satisfying, of course.”


Director’s Picks:
Spanish festival director Natalia Ortiz chooses her favourites.

1. Seven Billiard Tables :: Screening as part of the spotlight on Maribel Verdu, Seven Billiard Tables is the tale of Angela (Verdu)’s attempts to restart the local billiard hall her recently-deceased father left behind.
2. The Orphanage :: In this top-earning horror film, a young boy befriends some disconcerting playmates when his family moves into an abandoned orphanage. From first-time director Juan Antonio and producer Geillermo del Toro (Pan’s Labyrinth).
3. Scandalous :: This comedy/musical charts the disgruntled Luis’s attempts to understand the women in his life (wife, daughter and grand-daughter), after each of them abandons him within a single day.
4. Desperate Women :: Another comedy about hunting lost lovers, Desperate Women sees two ladies madly chasing after their dream man and son, who had previously been thought dead. This film’s appearance in the festival marks its world premier.
5. Under the Stars :: In his first feature film, Félix Viscarret presents a mediocre trumpet player whose life is complicated after his father’s death throws him into a whole new reality. It’s a warm drama, with an edgy quirkiness.

Flight of the Conchords [this is not a film]

Through comedy festivals, TV appearances and radio shows, New Zealand ‘digi-folk’ parodists, Flight of the Conchords, have been wowing listeners with their musical prowess and unique lyrical styling for several years now (examples include: as “I want to tell her how hot she is but she’ll think I’m sexist / She’s so hot she’s making me sexist / Bitch” and so on). Now HBO (the American network with a knack for churning out television gold) has tapped into the band’s cult following by focusing their latest comedy effort around the escapades of this wacky Kiwi duo.

Musicians Bret McKenzie and Jemaine Clement (who you may recognise from last year’s Eagle Vs Shark) play exaggerated, fictionalised versions of themselves, as they struggle to stay afloat and obtain some level (any level) of musical success in the ruthless city of New York. They’re joined by Rhys Davies as their somewhat out-of-touch manager (who also heads a rather eccentric New Zealand tourism campaign, and constantly vies against his Australian competitors for the tourist dollar), as well as Kristen Schaal as their one and only fan (who seems to spend most of their day loitering outside their apartment awaiting a kiss).

Flight of the Conchords is yet another comedy to jump aboard the ‘deadpan humour’ bandwagon popularised by The Office. As usual you’ll find a fair amount of awkward silences, several eccentric characters that seem distinctly disconnected from the world around them, and that familiar affectionate mockery of nerdom. However, despite being amusing in and of their own right, the dialogue and narrative of the show basically serve only as catalysts for the duo’s songs. These musical treats are woven (often very tenuously) into the fabric of the story, and they help to keep each new episode fresh. For fans of music and fans of comedy, this show is a must-see. Channel Ten have therefore scheduled the series for the inconvenient hour of 10:10 on a Sunday night. When will they learn?

Un Secret

Yet another WWII drama enters cinemas the week; French film, Un Secret, inspired by the ‘true story’ novel by Philippe Grimbert. This is not, however, a war story in the usual, overt sense. Instead, it is a powerful family drama portraying the more indirect, yet still significant, impact that war can have upon relationships. The film takes us into post-war Paris, and introduces us to a young Philippe (Valentin Vigourt) and his Jewish family. Initially, Philippe’s life seems to be all about bright colours and youthful exuberance; however, an eerie soundtrack and the occasional dimly-lit close-up let us know that something is not quite right. Philippe can never match up to the expectations of his father, and is constantly haunted by the spectre of a ‘phantom brother’ who can. Through exchanges with his next-door-neighbour and family friend, Louise (Julie Depardieu), Philippe gradually learns about his parents’ secret past, and the family that his father had and lost during the war, before Phillipe.

From this point onwards, Un Secret opens up to reveal a truly intriguing story, and some superb performances, particularly from Patrick Bruel and Cecile de France as Philippe’s parents. There’s a real depth to the story, and it traverses some pretty unique themes, as one of the few French war films to deal explicitly with the French police’s subservience to the Nazis – so in that alone this film is unique. Unfortunately, however, a lot of this gets lost amongst a clumsy narrative structure. While the film begins in Philippe’s childhood, most of the scenes are flashbacks to the parents’ past (some real, some imagined), with a sizeable portion of the film set in the future, as an adult Philippe looks back upon his childhood discoveries. The three narrative strands are messily interwoven, with sudden shifts in time constantly interrupting emotional engagement. Sadly, it’s the classic example of an amazing story poorly told.

Rating: 7.9

The Counterfeiters

Oscar winning Austrian drama, The Counterfeiters, is a film that asks questions. It asks when morality becomes martyrdom, and when self-preservation becomes self-destruction. Set during the dying days of World War II, the film is about Operation Bernhard; the Nazis’ plan to flood and destroy British and American economies by falsifying enormous amounts of authentic-looking currency. In order to do this all Jewish prisoners skilled as graphic designers, printers, painters or bankers are transferred to Sachsenhausen concentration camp. Amongst them is Berlin’s most talented pre-war counterfeiter, Salomon Sorowitsch, and Adolf Burger, a passionate Communist who was arrested for producing anti-Nazi posters (who actually wrote the book on which this film is based). These emaciated, wounded individuals are drawn into a comparative luxury when they arrive at Sachsenhausen, where they are presented with clean sheets and a ping pong table as motivational ‘incentives.’ Therein lies the moral quandary – how can these men enjoy their relative comfort when prisoners are being tortured within their earshot?

The film is sharply confronting, but in a powerfully original way. Rather than showing us the terror of the camp through onscreen violence, the message of horror is conveyed through torturous ironies – the prisoners, for example, break down with shocked surprise when they are taken into a shower block, only to actually be bathed in hot water. It’s also a film that does not deal in the black and white dualities that usually accompany war dramas, but rather skips through a whole multitude of grey shades. Each new character is another complex individual, battling to figure out what they believe is right. The conflict between Sorowitsch and Burger is a fascinating picture of clashing moralities, presenting two men with such different ideas but equally honourable intentions. Some moments of dialogue do jar, but on the whole this is a gripping drama, and it goes some way to proving that no matter how many wartime films are made, there really are always more stories waiting to be told.

Rating: 9.0

Painted Veil

The Painted Veil initially appears the perfect model for the classic historical melodrama. Edward Norton and Naomi Watts play Walter and Kitty, a typically bourgeoisie pair that marry on a whim and end up alone together in 1920s Shanghai. It’s there that Kitty, bored with her uninspiring bacteriologist husband, pursues an affair with the heartless-but-handsome English Vice Consul. When Walter discovers the two of them, he takes vengeance on his wife by dragging her into a remote Chinese village that is currently dissolving under the swift spread of a cholera infestation. The film makes no attempt to disguise its embrace of all the classic 'historical drama' tropes. As a novel adaptation, with an admittedly stunning visual portrayal of that particular time period, it's guaranteed to attract anyone with a weak heart in their chest and/or a Jane Austen book in their bag. Middle-aged women will no doubt be dragging their bored-looking husbands along to this one in droves.

Yet, despite The Painted Veil's overt embrace of all things ‘traditional’, there’s something quite oddly quirky, and almost surreal, about the film. In one rather sprawling scene, Walter, Kitty and their liquored next door neighbour (Toby Jones) chillax on their veranda, sipping cocktails and listening to records in the midst of a dying village. Unexpected, displaced moments such as this pop up all throughout the film. This is not necessarily a bad thing, in a certain sense it’s quite refreshing, but it will confuse viewers who are expecting a far more traditional story, while those who would appreciate such random departures probably won’t ever watch this film the whole way through. It also has to be said that the unfocused nature of the film does detract a little from its ability to tell the story effectively. The unstable pacing and the flat characters (especially when compared to director John Curran’s past films, Praise and We Don’t Live Here Anymore) don't help mcuh in this department.

Rating: 6.9