burning popcorn

Masala Bollywood Festival

2009-03-02T05:16:00.000-08:00

While the world is going wild over India, it seems that India is going wild over the rest of the world, as illustrated in one of the Bollywood Masala Film Festival’s many romantic comedies, Kismat Konnection. This is yet another Bollywood production set almost entirely overseas, in which Toronto becomes an idyllic space of romance and passion. Here, the songs are performed at happening Western nightclubs, amongst flashing neon advertisements, and aboard river cruises. There are a couple of saris, but the majority of dancers seem to have discarded traditional Indian gear in favour of short skirts, baseball caps and denim. The storyline also seems to have taken some of its cues from recent American romances, like Lilo’s Just My Luck. Shahid Kapoor plays Raj, a promising graduate whose attempts at employment are constantly thwarted by poor fate, or kismat. This all changes when he literally runs into the beautiful (and already betrothed!) Priya (Vidya Balan). It seems like hate-at-first-sight for the two of them, but plenty of trite dialogue and emotional music help indicate the inevitable. Despite his better judgement, the struggling Raj quickly realises that Priya may well be some sort of lucky charm, and that it is only with her by his side that he will ever succeed. It’s in no way a particularly extraordinary film, but it is extremely watchable. Despite its typical three hour duration, the action is fast-paced, the dialogue is snappy and the musical numbers are well spaced-out, so the film thankfully does not feel its length. Kismat Konnection may serve as the perfect introduction to the Bollywood genre; light-hearted, a little daggy, very fun.

Race is also set beyond India – this time in the more affluent corners of South Africa, where brothers Ranvir (Saif Ali Khan) and Rajiv (Akshaye Khanna) both enjoy lives of excessive decadence. From the film’s opening shot, its style and pace are made clear. We see a slick blue car crash into a large truck, spin repeatedly through the air (thanks to some rather dubious CGI) and then crash upside down onto hard road below. The occupants remain anonymous, but we’re clearly expected to care about their identities. A fast-flicking, MTV-styled opening then introduces us to the main characters and their interests; extreme sports, horseracing, beautiful women and alcohol. From here on in, things get complicated. The film morphs into a series of implausible, unbelievable twists and turns, interspersed with scenes of Western glamour. There are huge racetrack parties, chandelier-lit balls, fashion parades, flawless suburbs, and luxurious cruises. There are broken hearts, fake relationships, multiple betrayals, murder plots, and excessive amounts of intrigue. Add a desperate secretary and a very intense police officer mid-way through, and the craziness just goes through the roof. With its non-stop intensity, implausible plot and excessively dramatic performances, Race is a real struggle. This film reeks of a very conscious attempt to recreate American action films, but it has failed to include any form of relief or character connection. Without any of that classic Bollywood comic relief, this is simply a contrived action film with a couple of saucy dance numbers.

Anitgone [interview]

2009-02-28T05:20:00.000-08:00

Anyone familiar with Schvendes will not be surprised to see the Perth band’s frontwoman Rachel Dease involved with a Greek tragedy. No stranger to the darker side of art, she has carved a reputation for herself as a lady of torch songs and sweetly threatening vocals. In Matthew Lutton’s contemporary adaptation of Sophocles’ Antigone, Dease seems at home, charting the play’s emotions through song – but these compositions are not quite as dark as could have been expected.

“I had to kind of leave all of my prejudice and my style, in a lot ways, behind,” Dease explains. “Even though melodically and harmonically and even lyrically to a certain degree they’re definitely the kind of songs I would write, they’re still different. I had to fill a role in that project.”

Dease’s songs with Schvendes have all been self-contained stories of misery, and their video clips have been sprinkled with gothic visions of smoky forests and deserted dolls. The minor, bluesy strains of these songs have on countless occasions been compared to Nick Cave and PJ Harvey, but Dease warns that the songs that she’s written for Antigone mark a departure from her usual style.

“I think that, because the play is really dark and powerful, I didn’t want to do the obvious and write really dark, gloomy, songs. I’ve really tried to play on my light side as much as I can, because it’s just too obvious and it’s just too much. I’ve noticed recently that there are a lot more major chords in Antigone than there in Schvendes – which I think I’ll probably stick with for a while. But I done it; I think I’ve nailed it.”

Dease also seems to have also extracted the positives from the story itself. As a classic tragedy, Antigone offers plenty of cause for despair. The play details Antigone’s unlawful attempts to respectfully bury dead brother after he has been declared a traitor, and her subsequent punishment. Dease argues, however, that even the play’s antagonist. Creon, can be seen positively.

“I think Antigone can a probably a role model for both males and females, in her strength and resolve, but I also think Creon is an unusual role model in many ways too, maybe more so than Antigone. Creon is someone battling with that timeless conflict between what we think is right for our society and what we truly believe, and that’s what Antigone is all about… Those base emotions make it so relevant to contemporary society and politics. They are the reason why it works to adapt this play, and to bring it into a contemporary context.”

In Lutton’s adaptation, traditional dialogue and story will meet modern set design, costume and music. Dease gushes enthusiastically about a stage covered in “blood, milk and snow,” but falters and stresses that the visual set-up can’t be adequately described without being seen.

“I’m very exciting about seeing it come together now, with the stage set-up,” she says. “I really love the mechanics of theatre and I’ve been loving watching [the set designer] bring it all together. I think if I wasn’t a musician I might want to do that - it’s like putting together a really intricate doll’s house… That’s a new thing for me, I didn’t think that before I got involved in this play.”

As Dease continues describing the backstage processes, she seems to become more and more enthusiastic. She paints a picture of idyllic collaboration and teamwork, with musician, director, set/costume designer and playwright gathering to discuss the characters and ideas, then to workshop the play repeatedly, until general consensus was reached.

“[Our opinions] always seemed to change, all the time!” she laughs. “Month after month we seemed to have different opinions on each character and who our favourite characters are. And I basically took several interpretations of the characters away and tried to get into the heads and the emotions and the thought processes of each of them.”

From there, Dease worked alone with the suggested ideas and overarching emotions to create appropriate songs. For her, such solitary composition was another first: “I felt quite isolated. I mean, in a band, we all bounce ideas off each other and we’re all musicians, and obviously we all have an idea of what she should sound like, whereas in this it became quite a solo process for a very long time. I’ve only just started working with the musicians quite recently.”

Dease expects that these experiences might influence her work with Schvendes: “I’ve definitely explored avenues that I probably wouldn’t have without doing this play, like the isolated writing, and I can’t see myself forgetting that. I think that might seep into the band.”

Despite these times of concentrated individual work though, Dease maintains that the intense period of brainstorming had an immeasurably large impact over her work. “I’ve never been involved in a project like this before,” she explains. “I was just really surprised that so many really different creative minds can work together and somehow produce a work that’s really quite unified. We haven’t had disagreements on how to approach it, it’s always been a very open discussion and everyone seems to have found a way to personally approach it that fits in with everyone else really well.”

Interestingly, the play is dominated by young people – Lutton himself only in his mid-20s. For Dease, this in itself carried a certain appeal: “It’s been a real blessing to work with so many young people and know that there is a really bright future in the arts in Australia,” she concludes. “In many ways I feel like the grown-up there…. I’m not like the parent, but I sort of feel like the weird older sister or something. And Matt’s the very practical younger brother who gets everyone together and keeps everyone in line.”

Out of a play about family tragedy then, a makeshift family emerges. And one of Perth’s soulfully dark musicians is somewhere in the middle of it.

WHAT: Antigone

WHEN & WHERE: Subiaco Arts Theatre, Saturday 21 Feb – Saturday 7 March.

Lemon Tree

2009-02-15T05:27:00.000-08:00

Amongst PIAF’s more ‘topical’ film entries this year is The Lemon Tree, from Israeli writer/director Eran Riklis, and his Palestian-Israeli co-writer Suha Arraf (both of whom worked on The Syrian Bride.) Based on a true story, this film centres around Palestinian widow Salma (Hiam Abbass), who lives right on the West Bank’s border Palestinian-Israeli border. Salma’s three children have all grown and moved on, and now she spends her days lovingly tending a lemon tree grove left behind for her by her late father, from which she earns a modest living. Everything seems hunky dory, until the Israeli defence minister moves in opposite her, on the other side of the border. His security team ruthlessly dubs the lemon grove a “security threat” and orders its destruction. Salma, who has little else in her life, decides to fight against the order by launching an appeal, despite strong discouragement from her Palestinian neighbours.

This conflict is obviously intended as a micro version of the larger political situation that surrounds it. In this respect, the film seems a little too safe. The characters are all likeable, and the ‘enemy’ is the completely undeveloped secret service representative. The film’s strength instead lies in its depiction of wordless human connection. In her rebellious attempts to water the grove (despite strict orders against this), Salma shares eye contact with the defence minister’s wife, Mira (Rona Lipaz-Michael), who watches from her balcony or patio. As Salma’s defiance clashes with Mira’s helplessness, the two seem to empower one another, through stares alone. Likewise, Riklis skilfully negotiates Salma’s unique relationship with her much younger lawyer, Ziad (Ali Sulliman). Politics may encroach from all sides here, but ultimately it is Salma’s (and Mira’s, to a certain extent) personal growth that forms the core of this film.

You the Living

2009-02-15T05:24:00.000-08:00

This week’s PIAF film is certainly a strange one. In it, a rich man brags about his decadent dinner, only to have his wallet stolen before he can may the bill. A bored man drags his unanimated dog behind him. An overweight older woman complains about being unloved, but then ignores the compliments of her adoring husband. These images are then combined with fifty or more, forming a scattered collection of austere vignettes, all set against the backdrop of an overcast Nordic city. There is no narrative chronology here, but the vignettes all seem to stem from the quote that opens the film: “Be pleased then, you the living one, in your delightfully warmed bed, before Lethe’s ice-cold wave will lick your escaping foot” (Goethe). These are stories about greed, waste and apathy.
This is Sweden’s cinematic answer to Samuel Beckett, but in amongst the gloomy portraits there are beautiful visions. Every shot is a perfect picture, whether it’s the image of an oil painting falling into a living room aquarium, or a happy couple getting married aboard a moving train-house. The visuals will hit you first, and then the themes will strike with power. The commentary of director Roy Andersson snowballs dramatically, growing cumulatively in force with each additional vignette. He plays alternately with clarity and with confusion to push forward a trite message in a new and persuasive matter. The film may not be to everyone’s taste, but, for those that are sucked in, its hypnotic force is unshakable.

Days and Clouds

2009-02-09T05:22:00.000-08:00

This week’s PIAF drama, Days and Clouds, might seem a little familiar to those well-acquainted with recent Italian drama. Like last year’s comedy, Her Whole Life Ahead, Days and Clouds similarly opens on a woman deftly defending her degree, and it similarly moves past this to prove that such achievements offer little solace in harsh economic times. The difference here, however, is that this time the woman at the centre is Elsa (Margherita Buoy) – a middle-aged mother who has long been enjoying the luxuries of her husband Michele’s comfortable salary. She’s barely had the time to recover from her post-completion hangover before Michele (Antonio Albanese) reveals that he’s been out of work for two months, and that they now have little over 20,000 euros. Their comfortable life of travel, art, and celebration is no longer a viable option.

As the couple adjust to their severe income cut, Days and Clouds unfolds simultaneously as a social snapshot and a character study. It explores the realistic (and topical) possibilities that could send an affluent couple down this path, and looks critically at Italian corporate culture. At the same time, though, the film is an intimate look at Elsa and Michele’s personal reactions to the change. It’s difficult not to be moved by the look of humiliation of Michele’s face when his daughter spots him working as a courier, or by Elsa’s reluctant departure from her passion of art restoration towards long working hours in mind-numbing occupations. At moments the film does seem to drag, and the performances are perhaps not entirely flawless, but Elsa and Michele’s relationship remains a constant source of intrigue. It is their haphazard alternation of resistance and resignation that keeps Days and Clouds interesting

The Class

2009-01-19T16:47:00.000-08:00

It would be quite easy to mistake the recent Palme D’Or winning drama, The Class, for a documentary. Its story of classroom challenges comes straight from a teacher who has experienced this all first hand, the performances of teachers and students alike are pitch-perfect, genuine and rich, and the ‘fly-on-the-wall’ style of filmmaking (recalling something of Mike Leigh or even last year’s French hit The Secret of the Grain) is perfectly appropriate for capturing the tedium of modern teaching. Essentially, the film simply charts one teacher’s futile attempts to reach a class of mixed-race 14 year-olds in inner-city Paris. Beyond that, however, it offers a commentary on the universal challenges involved in education everywhere, particularly in this era of globalisation.

Francois Begaudeau, the teacher who wrote the book on which this film is based, plays Mr Marin. His sincere attempts to educate this class (and to reach the smarter students amongst the group) are continuously thwarted, mainly by student ‘insolence,’ and those many, mind-numbing, endlessly cyclical conversations that consume classroom time and teacher attention. For the most part, the film is simply a document of these struggles, though it reaches a sort of climax after tempers flare in the classroom and one student’s future education is put on the line. At times, the film does drag a little, but this only contributes to its slowly-building impact. In the end, this film’s effect will take you by surprise, when you realise the magnitude of the crisis. For those who have recently been high school students, The Class offers almost humorous in its familiarity. For those in education, it offers a complex picture of the problems that need to be overcome, without offering any simple solution. For all others, this is a rich classroom drama to remedy the simplicity of Dangerous Minds, and especially the more recent, Freedom Writers.

Giselle, feature [theatre]

2009-01-19T16:45:00.000-08:00

If the title “Giselle” speaks to you of pointed toes, of full white tutus and of a traditional tale of romance and heartbreak, then you’re on the wrong track. The heartbreak is all still here, but in this modernised, Irish interpretation of the classic ballet, tutus have been swapped for cowboy boots, pointed toes for foot-stomping and romance for sex, violence and testosterone.

Although the original, 1841 ballet was not without its own element of despair, Irish director Michael Keegan-Dolan has turned everything up a notch. The story is now set in Ballyfenny, a fictional Irish town rife with barely-hidden violence. Giselle is a mute outsider, rejected by the largely-male society. Her suitor, Albrecht, is a Bratislavan line-dancer, and the only source of joy to be found in the entire narrative. For Daphne Strothmann, who plays Giselle, the key to embracing this new version was to avoid exploring the older one in any great depth.

“I didn’t know much of the original Giselle really,” she confesses. “Even as a classically trained dancer I did not really know the whole story, just little bits that I had read up or heard of, but I did not research any more than that because I did want to be clouded by what the original things was. I’ve tried to stay away from the original where possible because I’m somebody who prefers to just throw themselves into it. I preferred to just see what would come out of what Michael [Keegan-Dolan] wanted, really.”

Working closely with Keegan-Dolan was no new experience for Strothmann, who previously worked with the director on four other ballets through the same production company, Fabulous Beast. While these productions bear similarity to one another in that they all fuse theatre and dance, Strothmann feels that Giselle is particularly unique.

“The other productions are really closer to pure dance, where there is a story but you work on building physical material first of all, and on exploring the movements from beginning to end. You don’t really explore your emotions as much, or your feelings towards other characters.” On the contrary, Giselle is guided by a strong narrative, and a lot of dialogue. It veers quite far from the boundary of classical ballet.

“There are a lot of challenges in that, of course,” Strothmann stresses. “Like, how to not do the same thing twice is difficult. You want to make sure you don’t repeat words through movement. It’s very challenging and takes a while to understand, but I think the company is starting to do that much better now. It just takes a while to learn a process and to work it – some of us have been together for five years and some for eight or nine, and that certainly helps us work with this challenging material.”

The company, which was founded in 1997, also aims to make controversial Irish issues accessible and relatable. To prepare for the fictional realm of Ballyfenny, the cast of Giselle spent a period of time in a small, secluded Irish town. Strothmann remembers, “At first it was a little strange; I could not really understand what they were saying, especially into the deeper parts of Ireland where I couldn’t understand even if they were speaking English. There are characters to be found that town that are just like those in the piece, sitting around at the bar drinking or dancing. We went to this kind of bar to try to get a feel for these people and how dark they can be, but to also see how in amongst that darkness there’s a wonderful side to them. They’re very humorous and very sarcastic and every second word is ‘fuck’ and if you’re not used to it’s strange, but if you’re drawn in it becomes very humorous.”

“It’s been interesting to take these ‘Irish’ issues overseas and see how other countries react to them,” Strothmann points out. Having toured such diverse locations as Poland, New Zealand and America, Strothmann has been able to compare and contrast the differing reactions. “The Polish loved it; it was so very well received there. It was a translation obviously but it worked very well, but also if just the pictures do something, and even if you don’t understand the words or you don’t want to read the subtitles, I think it works very well. In New Zealand as well, it was quite positively received.

“It did not go down very well in the States – I think maybe because of the swearing and the abuse of this Giselle character. We were actually supposed to do a greater tour but they had second thoughts. I think it was just too confrontational.” If the Americans hated it then there’s a fair chance we’ll love it, but Strothmann admits that in many ways the play really is a difficult one to stomach. It doesn’t hold back in its representation of sex or of violence. For the dancer, an immersion in this world can take its toll.

“It really took over me for a couple of weeks afterwards to get back to myself, because I could not get out of the character, which I suppose is a good thing. But there were some really tough times for while… I became very quiet and did not really want to talk very much. Also, the other characters were all so rude and shouting at the character and wanting to exclude her from the community. So I just became very internal. And plus with the training that we did everyday, doing yogo before rehearsals, I just became very inward-looking and just tried to interpret myself, as Giselle, from within.”

Additionally, until very recently, Strothmann was the only female cast member. “It was probably one of the other reasons why I pulled myself back, because there was a lot of strong male energy and just as the only woman it was not always very easy. Sometimes you just wanted a female to talk to. I admit it was a little easier for me, because my partner who plays my brother was there, but still it’s a very strange energy.”

Strothmann recalls one of the most challenging scenes, the opener, which has her scrubbing the stage floor patiently and diligently, only for a group of townsmen to enter and spitefully throw dirt over her and her work. Keegan-Dolan has shortened this scene since, but originally Strothmann was the stage for up to half an hour, just cleaning that floor as audience members entered to take their seats.

“Sometimes doing that scene I just really want to cry. Seeing that dirt being thrown at the floor was just – oh. I think once you click into the character and you’re in the piece, it’s so hard to see outside it. I was just thinking about this poor thing who had been cleaning stage and now it’s been dirtied and there’s no reason why, and she doesn’t quite understand. She’s an outsider and different and so they don’t want to see her things clean or proper, they just want to keep destroying her physically and therefore emotionally. I think it’s a very important scene that one because it sets my rhythm for how the whole piece should continue. But it also illustrates just how challenging a role Giselle is.”

WHAT: Giselle

WHERE: 28 Feb – 8 March at the Perth Convention Exhibition Centre Pavilion 6

I've Loved You So Long

2009-01-19T16:36:00.000-08:00

When we first see Kirsten Scott-Thomas in Phillippe Claudel’s I’ve Loved You So Long, she is not the collected icon of class that we are used to. Instead she looks haggard in plain brown clothing, with drab oily hair and a face so washed-out it is almost translucent. In between cigarette puffs, she awaits the arrival of her far livelier younger sister, Lea (Elsa Zylberstein). Here, Scott-Thomas plays Juliette, who, after 15 years in prison, has been forcibly taken under Lea’s wing. The remainder of the film delicately charts Juliette’s return into the ‘real world.’ Through seemingly innocuous events such as job interviews, visits to the local pool and dinner parties hosted by her sister, we watch as Juliette struggles both with and against the pull of larger society. It is a film about growth and withdrawal, and the internal battle between these two emotions.

Scott-Thomas’s performance here is second to none; it is her ability to so completely convey that sense of pained restraint that renders this film truly remarkable. Her every look (or lack of it) is a source of great fascination, and the slow unravelling of Juliette’s personality has a quite hypnotic effect. Zylberstein works well also, as the well-intentioned if naïve sister, but she falters in some of the more intense scenes and at any rate pales besides Scott-Thomas. Claudel’s script disappoints a little at its conclusion – for a story that gains its power through its pauses and understatements, its tell-all ending feels out of place, and seems to almost cheapen the narrative. Nonetheless, this is film remains a rare experience. A definite stand-out feature from this year’s PIAF film festival, it screens at Sommerville this week and Joondalup in the next.

2008

2008-12-30T19:42:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-17T19:07:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-17T18:59:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-09T07:11:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-09T07:07:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-19T03:29:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-10T03:37:00.000-08:00

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

2008-10-14T06:30:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-14T06:27:00.000-07:00

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"

2008-10-07T03:34:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-05T00:05:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-07T08:43:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-02T02:40:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-18T02:37:00.000-07:00

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]

2008-08-12T02:33:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-11T02:30:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-29T02:26:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-21T02:22:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-06T07:43:00.000-07:00

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)

2008-06-30T07:41:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-28T07:34:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-15T08:37:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-05T08:40:00.000-07:00

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?

2008-06-01T08:43:00.000-07:00

“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

2008-05-18T20:17:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-18T19:25:00.000-07:00

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.

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.
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).
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.
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.
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]

2008-05-11T08:57:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-11T08:55:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-04T08:23:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-21T05:16:00.000-07:00

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

Gone Baby Gone

2008-04-13T05:13:00.000-07:00

By all accounts, Dennis Lehane’s crime novel, Gone Baby Gone, is supposedly a gripping read. Best known as the author of Mystic River, he apparently fills this novel with contradictory characters who rise to challenging moral predicaments and in doing so impart insight into the human condition. You wouldn’t reach the same conclusion after seeing the book’s film adaptation by Ben Affleck, who has once more stepped behind the camera to take on the roles of director and writer (along with Aaron Stockard). In this tale of a missing child, and the private detectives who search for her amidst a labyrinth of mystery and moral ambiguity, Affleck has gravely neglected one of the most important elements in any story. While he may have done a fine job of evoking the desperation of a conflicted family, and establishing the beginnings of a potentially intriguing script, he’s forgotten to include characters.

The human beings who propel the narrative of Gone Baby Gone are no more than empty catalysts for the continuing action. Patrick Kenzie, the private investigator hired to track down five-year-old Amanda, is an entirely flat individual who displays no evident personality traits, and Casey Affleck (Ben’s brother) delivers Patrick’s lines in matching monotone. The police officers who work simultaneously for and against Patrick are just lacklustre actors dressed in uniform, Amanda’s drug-addicted mother is a classic cliché with her running make-up and brash irreverence, and, worse of all is Patrick’s partner Angie (played by Michelle Monoghan) who does literally nothing for the whole film – she silently accompanies on his various investigations functioning, if anything, as a liability that slows his case down. Sure, the storyline is relatively intriguing and the moral predicaments do provide some food for thought – but without characters these concepts can only ever be interrogated abstractly, which makes for a detached cinema experience that is easy to forget.

Rating: 5.5

Secret of the Grain

2008-04-08T05:10:00.000-07:00

The Secret of the Grain has so far swept up all the major Cesar Awards, as well as France’s most coveted honour, the Prix Louis Delluc. Internationally, it has been released to widespread acclaim, and, here in Perth, it is the first film from Cinema Paradiso’s recent Alliance Français French Film Festival to have received a longer release. This may seem a strange pattern of events, given director Abdellatif Kachiche’s penchant for divisively subversive cinema techniques. In this film, plot is rendered secondary to the dynamics of character interaction, and everyday exchanges are allowed to unfold at great (and sometimes unnecessary) length. Character focus shifts erratically throughout the film, pacing is distinctively uneven, and, throughout the film’s two and a half hour duration, there is ample opportunity to question its purpose and its point.

In short, the film is a lot of work, and what you get out of it is not the traditional cinematic experience of climax and resolution. Instead, Kachiche paints a vivid picture of an often-overlooked part of France. He introduces us to Silimane, a sixty-year-old North African immigrant, and his loving but unconventional family – a devoted ex-wife, their four children, grandchildren and children-in-law, plus his current lover and her sparkling teenage daughter, Rym. He presents Silimane’s daily struggles with immigrant life and with family without warping them into a falsified narrative structure, instead allowing them to unfold more naturally and haphazardly. This overwhelming realism can be tiring and tedious, but it can also rewarding. The actors are able to bring a raw sincerity to their characters, and emotions are allowed to play out without restraint (in a manner that is at times quite confronting). Still, it’s certainly not a film that everyone will enjoy, and the urge to whip out some scissors and give it a more thorough editing is at times quite overwhelming. Approach this one with caution, and make sure you’re in the right state of mind before you purchase your ticket.

Rating: 7.0

2008-03-24T05:06:00.000-07:00

In the 1950s, a series of movies about a school of mischievous young girls were released in Britain. Today, writer Piers Ashworth has continued the concept with St Trinian’s; a modern take on the traditional concept and a veritable who’s who of (mainly) English stars and household names. Colin Firth is once more doused in water as he self-consciously mocks his ‘Jane Austen heartthrob’ reputation (why does he do this?), Stephen Fry appears as children’s game show ‘quizmaster’ who enjoys his job just a little too much, model Lilly Cole dons glasses and plays a dorky teenager, comedian Russell Brand is a dodgy character from the town’s crime-ridden underground and even The OC’s Misha Barton shows up in a completely unnecessary cameo appearance. And yet, in amongst all these icons, there can be no doubt as to who is the star of the show. That would, of course, be Rupert Everett.

The makers of this film have obviously opted to follow the path set out before them by Hairspray, and have stayed true to the film’s original concept by casting a man to play the school’s eccentric headmistress (even though they have altered so much else). And, though it’s easy to be sceptical about this decision, it has to be said that Everett rises to this occasion magnificently. Whether he’s carefully adding strokes to a still life painting, waltzing down the stairs inexplicably dressed in an Elizabethan gown, or painfully flirting with an ex-lover (played by Firth), Everett’s complete completely exaggerated (yet always so serious) performance is genuinely hilarious. The rest of the story, and the rest of the stars, pale in comparison. I vaguely remember something about the school getting shut down, and the girls organising a full scale heist in the hope of scoring enough money to keep the institution going. No doubt 13-year-old girls will be more appreciative of this storyline, with its irreverent glorification of mischief and, of course, the obligatory make-over scene. Certainly, don’t go out of your way to see St Trinian’s, but, if you’re forced to, don’t panic. There are worse films out there.

Rating: 6.5

Be Kind Rewind, Before the Devil Knows You're Dead

2008-03-16T04:59:00.000-07:00

Initially, the basic premise of Be Kind Rewind will feel just a little too convenient. Despite several warnings from his kindly boss, Mr. Fletcher (Danny Glover), Mike (Mos Def) makes a fatal mistake when he’s left alone to man their video store – he lets in his rather wacky and extremely accident-prone childhood friend, Jerry (Jack Black). Things then go from bad to worse, because Jerry (thanks to a recent spate of town power plant sabotage) has become magnetised, and, in the simple of act of perusing the video shelves, manages to erase the store’s entire VHS catalogue with his body’s newly found electromagnetic force. Now, the only way that Mike can maintain Mr. Fletcher’s respect is by recreating all the films’ content, and this can only be done with the help of Jerry, a handheld camcorder, their friend Alma (Melanie Diaz) and a whole stack of homemade props, costumes and setting backdrops. So far, the film seems like the idea set up for director Michel Gondry (Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, Science of Sleep) to whip out his beloved cotton wool balls and cardboard cut-outs, and start recreating Hollywood classics as he would have imagined them.

Thankfully, though, this film is so much more than just an excuse for Gondry to get creative. While it’s obvious that he and the actors are having a whole lot of fun sending up everything from Rush Hour 2 to 2001: A Space Odyssey, some sort of story does grow up around their comic antics, especially as Mike and Jerry’s creativity comes under threat and they somehow manage to mobilise an entire community’s support. Indeed, in the end, Be Kind Rewind is actually not so much about the process of hilarious recreating (or “sweeding”) these films as it is about a community reawoken by creative freedom. If you’re willing to look past Gondry’s disappointing scriptwriting (don’t come here looking for fanciful things like character development or subtlety of emotion), his call for communities and individuals to keep their own stories alive is actually quite heart-warming. And it all fits surprisingly well alongside visions of Jack Black’s toxic urine and frightened librarians fleeing the advances of amateur Ghost Busters.

Rating: 8.5

Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead is jigsaw of narrative strands, jumbled and waiting for you to fit them together. It opens with a scene of happiness, followed quickly by a robbery-gone-terribly-wrong, and from there it jumps haphazardly through a series of different perspectives from different points before, during and after the robbery, gradually adding more layers to the story. Ethan Hawke opens proceedings as Hank, a spineless, cowardly character motivated by a need to appease his demanding ex-wife and thus maintain some sort of relationship with his daughter. Phillip Seymour Hoffman then takes over as Andy, Hank’s far more successful and more self-assured older brother, who has a nice office and a sexy wife (Marisa Tomei), but also a nasty habit and a toxic desire for change. It’s of course Andy who draws the ingratiating Hank into an unthinkable crime.

As much a crime melodrama as it is a suspense thriller, Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead will feel a bit much at some points, but the talented cast deliver their lines with such grandeur that it all begins to feel quite appropriate. There’s an almost Shakespearean quality to the film, particularly as tensions escalate towards its dramatic conclusion. In amongst all the fine acting, Hoffman in particular is brilliant as always, casting complexity across his character so you’re left battling feelings of disgust against feelings of sympathy. All these performances, plus some very clever screenwriting, will add up to attract and hold your emotional and intellectual involvement. These are characters that we genuinely care about, so the crime’s emotionally-wrought aftermath is as (if not more) interesting than its suspenseful prelude. If you’re up for some heavy, but totally engaging, drama, 83-year-old writer/director Sidney Lumet has definitely delivered with this one.

Rating: 8.5

Eden

2008-02-06T03:53:00.000-08:00

This week’s PIAF film, Germany’s Eden, can’t quite decide what it wants to achieve. Upon opening, the film shifts from lingering images of succulent produce to confronting close ups of bloody carcasses, as if foreshadowing a richly symbolic and thought-provoking contradictory narrative to come. It then proceeds with a Freudian-fuelled back-track through the childhood of now-famous celebrity chef Gregor (Josef Ostendorf), implying the beginnings of a psychological study as we learn about the way in which he fetishises his food. Next up, from the moment that Gregor’s path crosses that of the beautiful waitress Eden (Germany’s MTV darling, Charlotte Roche), the film’s tone shifts once more. As Gregor’s cooking awakens something in Eden, and Eden awakens something in Gregor, what we witness from there on in is actually nothing more than a fairly superficial account of their relationship. Particularly when it comes to Gregor, there is very little incite into what he is actually thinking about the turn of events. And then brace yourself, because the film packs a punch with its unexpectedly outrageous, absurdist ending.

And much as the film can’t settle on a single tone, this reviewer similarly can’t settle on a decisive opinion. While it would be easy to dismiss Eden for its inconsistency, there’s a certain quality to the film that can’t be ignored. In remaining solely on the surface of this relationship, writer/director Michael Hofmann teases and intrigues his audience. In briefly delving into symbolic allusions, he charms his viewers with the promise of something beneath the surface, even if it that ‘something’ is just beyond our reach. So, while Eden may be frustrating, and while it may lack the kind of visually clear cues that we’ve come to expect from food-focused narratives like Chocolat (I’m talking about those slow, seductive images of the most delicious food imaginable – with no bloody carcasses in sight), there’s a beauty to be found in that absence. It’s much like watching a cooking show – you’ll see all the ingredients in front of you, but it will be up to you to decide whether or not that’s as satisfying as actually eating a meal. And it’s also worth noting that at least there’s a side dish of endearing performances and interesting dialogue to make it all just a little easier.

Rating: 7.6

Joy Division; Prague

2008-01-28T03:48:00.000-08:00

This week, amongst a flurry of tunes, pizza and beer, Luna Outdoor will premier the documentary Joy Division. Riding fresh on the coat tails of Control’s recent success, one can confidently expect a large turn out for this, more rigorous, exploration of the Manchester band’s inspiring start and tumultuous decline – though the two could hardly be considered mutually exclusive. For starters, Joy Division’s director Grant Gee (who has previously worked on documentaries about Radiohead, Gorillaz and Scott Walker) has chosen to look more broadly at the context of the events. Through never-before-seen footage, audiotapes, personal photos and period films, Gee creates a collage that represents not only the band, but also their city and the musical/artistic movement that they belonged to. As the late Tony Wilson states in a voice-over that opens the film, the story of Joy Division is also the story of Manchester, and of a city awakened by their music. Indeed, it’s hard to watch the documentary without feeling drawn into the infectious punk atmosphere of 1980s Manchester, alive with new hope and music.

Strikingly intimate interviews with the surviving members of Joy Division, fellow musicians and musical icons, and even with Anton Corbijn (the director of Control) are slotted into the footage, adding detail and cohesion to the period collage. While many Joy Division ‘anecdotes’ (such as their famous meeting at Manchester Hall, their involvement with Tony Wilson and so on) have been milked dry by the double impact of Control and 24 Hour Party People, it is surprising to learn that these interview subjects still have something fresh to offer. Gee has directed them to speak with great sincerity and insightfulness – one notable example being the way in which the band members and Annike Honore (the Belgian journalist with whom Curtis had an affair) reflect upon how everyone seemed to ignore the darkness of Curtis’s lyrics. Similarly, it’s touching to see the Joy Division story carried beyond Curtis’s death, to look at the musical and cultural legacy that the band left behind them before going on to become New Order.

Rating: 7.1

Every film festival has to reach its nadir, and for PIAF’s Lotterywest Film Festival, it seems that point is Prague, which screens at Sommerville from next week. The latest film from Danish director Ole Christian Madsen (Kira’s Reason – A Love Story, Angels in Fast Motion) is a dark look at both the practical and emotional aspects of grieving, and how the two intermingle. Christoffer (Mads Mikkelson – After the Wedding, Casino Royal) and Maja (Stine Stengade – Kira’s Reason) are a couple of 14 years, whose marriage is tested when they travel to Prague to retrieve the body of Chrostoffer’s dead father. Having not seen his father since he was abandoned by him 25 years ago, Christoffer appears unfazed by the death, but is forced to leave his emotional plateau after Maja confesses to having an affair. Now trapped together in a city they both seem to despise, the couple share their final days amongst increasing levels of tension, while Christoffer simultaneously deals with his father’s lawyer, house-keeper and some ‘unexpected’ revelations.

Unfortunately, the surprises that send Christoffer over the edge are all too easy to spot from a mile away, while the extreme close-ups of a hand held camera (here an ear, there an eye) suggest a level of pretension at odds with the utterly predictable nature of the script. Madsen obviously thought he was creating something deeply moving, but whether it is the trite nature of his dialogue, or some less-than-perfect performances, at least two of the film’s central revelations were enough to send a ripple of groans/giggles through the crowd. While several scenes are genuinely emotional and thoroughly well-acted (particularly where Mikkelson is concerned), they fall flat when viewed in the context of the whole film. In the end, Prague makes a mockery of the deep themes it is presenting, and the emotional story that it is attempting to share.

Rating: 5.1

Jane Austen Bookclub; Empties

2008-01-22T03:45:00.000-08:00

One would hardly expect a film entitled The Jane Austen Bookclub to be particularly offensive. Based on Karen Folwer’s novel of the same name, the title inspires visions of something akin to Becoming Jane. Yet for even the most softhearted fans of Austen or Austen-inspired films (almost a genre unto themselves these days), The Jane Austen Bookclub is an absolute offence to intelligence. Prepare to meet six infuriating bookclub members with the potential to scare anyone away from the literature classics they revere.

After introducing the six central characters, their various predicaments and their relationships to one another (all of which is done in the first ten minutes), there is near to no further character or plot development. The club members simply read one Jane Austen classic after another (with the progression marked in titles so we are reminded of exactly how much is left), and we watch them uncover parallels with Austen’s heroes. Sometimes this is done in a grossly obvious manner (e.g.: “Our world really is but a small English village”), while at other times the connections are barely tenuous and near impossible to spot. The ensemble cast’s acting is consistently unconvincing, though that’s to be expected with dialogue so trite that it often sounds as if it were lifted straight from the pages of the novel, with no concessions made for the switch in medium. In the end, this film does little more than suggest that Austen’s novels must all be banal and boring works, if these are the kind of lives that they reflect. The author must be rolling in her grave.

Rating: 3.0

Meanwhile this week, PIAF's Sommerville auditorium presents Empties, a bittersweet comedy from Jan Sverák, one the Czech Republic's most popular and critically acclaimed directors. Collaborating once more with his father Zdenek (who both wrote and stars in this film), Sverák follows up on the themes he began to explore in Kolya (1994) and Obecna Skola (1991). Again, Sverák investigates the themes of maturation, masculinity, growth and cross-generational communication, while simultaneously looking at the way in which the Czech people are coping with shifting societal pressures. We see these shifts through the eyes of weary schoolteacher Josef (played by Zdenek Sverák), who leaves his job in a cloud of frustration after being unable to cope with the ignorance and disrespect of his student. Confined to his apartment with wife Eliska (Daniela Kolarova), Josef lasts barely a week before he takes on a job as a bicycle courier and, when that fails to go according to plan, he becomes a handler at the bottle return point in his local supermarket. There, he seeks further distraction from his lacklustre homelife by engaging with his colleagues and clientele and by desperately seeking a match for his recently divorced daughter.

Unlike in most of Sverák's other films (and indeed in a lot of the more financially reputable comedies to have emerged from Central Europe), this protagonist provides little room for the kind of sympathy required to render the film "touching" or "sweet" or any of the other adjectives required to help a foreign film survive at the international box office. While he may suffer at the hands of his students, Josef is also grumpy, manipulative, selfish and cruel (especially to his wife), and his nightly mental excursions into a train-set sexual fantasy world do little to help the cause. It's certainly difficult to watch Empties without feeling disgrace or disdain towards Josef, and at times this enough to warp the film’s appeal. Simultaneously though, this flawed character is quite compelling viewing, and his relationships with others pose interesting questions about chemistry, love and growing old with another person beside you. In the end, there are some touching moments for those who persist, but for most these will not compensate for the effort involved.

Rating: 6.6

Juno; The Kite Runner; Tell No One

2008-01-13T03:38:00.000-08:00

The much anticipated indie comedy, Juno, sees a whole lot of cinema favourites joining forces under the direction of Jason Reitman (Thank You for Smoking) and a debut script from stripper-turned-writer Diablo Cody. Ellen Page (Hard Candy) is the sharp-tongued, assertive 16 year-old, Juno McGaff, who has just fallen pregnant to her insecure best friend Paulie, (played by Michael Cera of Superbad and Arrested Development) after one singular sexual act inspired by a naïve crush and a night of boredom. Suddenly she’s facing major decisions, meeting adoption parents, forging unexpected connections and testing the limits of her emotional strength. And, while you may be forgiven for expecting the clichés that traditionally accompany ‘pregnancy films,’ this film breathes life into what could have easily been very tiresome subject matter. Certainly, there’s a certain constructed nature to the dialogue (comparable to the unstoppable quips of the Gilmore girls), but it is sprinkled with so many delicious insights and clever witticisms that it seems seamlessly natural in its sheer originality. The way in which these lines are delivered is also worthy of notice – with the actors smoothly avoiding caricatures to create rich and endearingly eccentric characters without calling to heavily upon their past roles (with the possibly exception of Cera – though even he brings a new layer to his usual portrayal of the a adolescent). Juno is already the first note worthy film of the year.

Rating: 9.3

Upon exiting the cinema after viewing The Kite Runner, I overheard someone commenting about how great it was that the filmmakers had opted to leave this subtitled, going on to speak of this factor as if it could inherently be associated with “quality.” I’d like to take this opportunity to point out that subtitles alone should not be so simplistically equated with profundity. David Benioff’s adaptation of Khaled Hosseini’s novel is in fact so overtly sentimental, cheaply tear-jerking and sensationally dramatic that it entirely destroys any remote semblance of the profound. A cross-generational epic set against the violent backdrop of Afganistan’s recent political turmoil, The Kite Runner follows young Amir and Hassan, whose friendship is destroyed Hassan is made a victim of religious vilification and Amir is revealed a coward. Ten years on, Amir is in America writing novels about his childhood when he is called by to rescue Hassan’s son and redeem himself at long last. Throughout this shifting (and seemingly endless) narrative flow, virtually every cheap trick in the book is pulled out and placed centre stage – the worst example of which is Amir running into the bullies of his childhood when he returns home (can you guess what they will now be doing?). In addition, the pacing is terrible, the performances are stiff and uninspiring, and the characters are all undeveloped (especially the women).

Rating: 5.9

This week at Sommerville, PIAF presents Tell No One, based on the novel of the same name by American author Harlan Coben. Adapted by Guillaume Canet in his second directorial role, the story transposes neatly into a French context, although the American accents of the original remain in tact – arguably to the film’s detriment. Tell No One focuses upon paediatrician Alex Beck (Francois Cluzet) who, eight years after his wife’s mysterious murder, has received an inexplicable email suggesting that she may still be alive. Things spin out of control when two bodies are concurrently found near the murder site, one of them containing traces of Beck’s DNA, therefore forcing him to flee police accusation whilst simultaneously struggling to piece together the scattered puzzle, with only the aid of his sister’s wealthy girlfriend (Kristin Scott-Thomas). On the one hand, it’s a pity that there is nothing distinctly French about the adaptation – the storyline’s potential to give way to emotional or psychological investigation has been forsaken in favour of car chase sequences and scared facial expressions. On the other hand, quite a few French thrillers have been so distracted by their psychological undertones that any semblance of actual thrill is lost. In that respect, Tell No One excels – because its fast-paced plot and thickening aura of mystery will keep intrigued despite its lack of depth and its perhaps trite emotional cues (be on the look out for Canet’s use of “With or Without You” by U2.)

Rating: 6.5

The Edge of Heaven; Hearbreak Hotel

2008-01-10T03:04:00.000-08:00

As we edge further in 2008, PIAF’s film season intensifies with German director Faith Akin’s The Edge of Heaven. A definite highlight of this film festival season, The Edge of Heaven plays upon Akin’s favourite themes of birth, love and death, and, like his 2003 success Head-On, the film’s storyline weaves through the porous boundary between Turkey and Germany in today’s post-EU Europe. Against a shifting backdrop that gradually moves from Germany to Turkey (a journey symbolised through clever camera work) three parent-child couples find their lives unexpectedly interweaving. Ali and his academic son Nejat are Germans of Turkish descent who become involved with the fate of the Turkish prostitute Yeti, after she moves in with Ali in exchange for a monthly allowance. Meanwhile, German student Lotte and her conservative mother Suzanne are drawn into the turbulent life of persecuted political activist Nejat, who is actually Yeti’s daughter and simultaneously being desperately sought by Nejet back in her homeland.

Certainly, this is a very dense film. The narrative spins out several interweaving plotlines, each of which is as intense and significant as the last. Nonetheless, this intensity is never overwhelming or exaggerated. Akin plays his characters against each other with a natural ease, smoothed by remarkable performances from all the cast. The storyline may seem hyperbolic and convoluted in print, but Akin breathes life into these situations, celebrating the ordinary people who get caught up in extraordinary situations. Furthermore, through these performances, coupled with the script’s intimate dialogue, a strong sense of connection is forged between the characters and the audience – even with those lead characters who are not introduced until halfway through the film. Watch out for the Akin’s clever repetition of the first scene later in the film. While initially this scene feels arbitrary and even banal, when it is repeated later it bulges with significance and emotion. Just like other increasingly popular cross-cultural film efforts such as Babel or Crash, The Edge of Heaven calls upon us to delay judgements until we have a fuller understanding of the circumstances – and it does so through marvellous storytelling rather than through dogmatic preaching.

Rating: 9.0

From next Monday, The Edge of Heaven will move from Sommerville to Joondalup, giving way to Sweden’s Heartbreak Hotel. Although it is a far lighter offering, Heartbreak Hotel, like a lot of these festival films, similarly looks at fragile human beings struggling to make sense of their lives. This time the protagonists are Elisabeth and Gedrun, two women in their forties who have recently lost their husbands and are in the process of rediscovering what it means to be single. For the feisty gynaecologist, Elisabeth, this means drinking at dancing at the local bar, Heartbreak Hotel, but for the insecure traffic warden, Gudrun, life has become an endless stream of crossword puzzles and TV guide analyses. Despite the conflict that erupts between the two when they first meet (tempers flare over a parking ticket dispute), they keep running into each other, and gradually Gudrun finds herself inspired by Elisabeth’s fun, youthful outlook.

There’s naturally a certain age group that will get the most of this film, but it’s not to be completely dismissed by others. After all, the film isn’t so much about aging as it is about challenging our traditional expectations of aging, in a reality where life does not end (or even slow down) at forty. Unsurprisingly, there are some well-worn clichés to be found within this storyline, but luckily none of them are unfairly cast upon the main characters. In fact, in the tradition of many other European filmmakers (most notably Pedro Almodovar), these two women are sexy, assertive and strong, and also humanly flawed. They realistic, complex human beings, who at times demand sympathy, at others pity, and, at others still, admiration. It’s not the deepest film on the bill, but it’s a pleasantly heart-warming number, accompanied by a fun soundtrack and a warm feeling that will not be out of place on a summer evening at the outdoor cinema.

Rating: 7.5

Boxing Day Releases

2007-12-22T03:32:00.000-08:00

With Boxing Day right around the corner, cinema aficionados are gearing up for some of the most awaited films of the year. Director Wes Anderson (The Life Aquatic…) returns to his favoured themes of family and love with The Darjeeling Limited, a gently comical story of three estranged brothers uniting for a train journey across India. Tinted by the real life experiences of co-writers Anderson, Jason Schwartzman and Roman Coppola, Anderson carves his most emotionally grounded offering to date, whilst still maintaining his signature eccentricities. Julie Delpy (Before Sunrise/Sunset) meanwhile steps behind the camera to both direct and star in Two Days in Paris, where she plays a verbose, borderline-hysterical Parisian who brings her cynical, arrogant, French-hating American boyfriend (Adam Goldberg) home for the weekend. Delivered with all the verbal frenzy of a Gilmore Girls episode, there’s something delightfully endearing about the film (perhaps because of Delpy’s effortlessly likeable nature), despite her self-conscious narration and the film perilous dance on that thin line between comedy and tragedy. And the musical biopic receives yet another make-over in I’m Not There, where Marcus Carl Franklin, Richard Gere, Christian Bale, Heath Ledger and Cate Blanchett all recreate different images of Bob Dylan through interweaving narratives. For all that it’s trying to do, the film doesn’t really do anything all that well, coming off as extremely self-conscious and with some narrative strands decisively more interesting and well-developed than their half-baked counterparts.

Ratings: 8.5, 8.0, 6.9

And, as cinemas around the nation brace themselves for the onslaught of post-Christmas cinema releases, Perth prepares for some more local surprises. The Luna Outdoor season gets going with its second film, Buddha’s Lost Children, a documentary about Thai boxer-come-monk, Khru Bah, who now devotes himself to assisting struggling hillside tribes throughout Thailand’s impoverished borderlands, and to taking in homeless or lost boys, in order to give them another chance at life. There’s a very intimate feel to the unfolding storytelling, as we are gradually drawn into the community’s daily workings, the lives of the young boys and the karmic life philosophies of Khru Bah himself. The filmmaking is solid, sprinkled with exquisite cinematography and some genuinely thought-provoking interviews. While it may be slower paced and less exciting than other ‘inspirational’ documentaries making the rounds at the moment, Buddha’s Lost Children remains an interesting, if not enthralling, portrait of a hidden community.

Rating: 7.5

PIAF’s Film Festival also introduces two new films for the new year. I Served the King of England is the Czech comedy that will soon be lighting up the Sommerville auditorium. It sees Czech actor Ivan Barnev become a cross between Charlie Chaplin and a weasel (sneaky, yet somehow endearing), as he plays the ingratiating Jan Dite, a waiter hoping desperately to become a millionaire in wartime Czechoslovakia. Despite its trailer suggesting nonsense absurdity, there is actually a gripping narrative weaving through all the more unbelieve images that cross the screen (monetary note wallpaper, a pool for naked Aryan women and a waiter who upturns the tables of his clients, to mention a few), whilst these surreal interludes help to spice up the film as whole.

Rating: 8.1

Meanwhile, Moliere welcomes 2008 at Joondalup Pines. No doubt inspired by the success of Shakespeare in Love, director Laurent Tirad presents a speculative take on how the famous French playwright may have gained inspiration for his most famous play, Tartuffe. While the film could have suffered under the confines of its period setting, and what many have criticised to be a poor casting choice Romain Duris as Moliere), the screenplay has obviously taken many of its comedic cues from the playwright it celebrates, rendering the end result fresh and genuinely funny, as well as just that little bit touching. This, combined with the perfectly tuned performances of the supporting cast (especially Fabrice Luchinni and Laura Morante as the wealthy couple who welcome Moliere into their home with mixed results) cements the film as one of the Festival’s most notable highlights thus far.

Rating: 8.6

Eagle Vs Shark; Hunting & Gathering; War/Dance

2007-12-10T03:26:00.000-08:00

There is little need to extrapolate upon the success Napoleon Dynamite, and the way in which this film’s particular brand of ‘geek-humour’ rippled through pop culture, inspiring a whole breed of people who insist on quoting lines to the point of banality, the proliferation of a particular slogan shirt, and, apparently, this recent New Zealand comedy flick. In Taika Cohen’s Eagle Vs Shark we meet Lilly (Loren Horsley), a pathetically weak yet well-meaning fast-food worker, in love with Jarrod (Jemaine Clement), a mulleted, baselessly arrogant electronic store clerk. After proving herself worthy through an impressive video game performance, Jarrod is soon asking Lilly out, standing her up, excusing himself with the excuse over “I’m just so complex,” and eventually taking her with him to visit his hometown, in a trip that gives him a chance to finally avenge his high school nemesis and Cohen a chance to play Lilly off against Jarrod’s dysfunctional family. At no point along this journey does Cohen shy away from blatant ND references (nam-chucks, ‘liger’-esque sketches and that trademark flat delivery all make an appearance). Cohen’s only attempt at an original edge is her effort to look further beneath the surface, but this is largely manifest through self-consciously poignant asides that do little to rectify the situation (and significantly also feel reminiscent of a million other indie flicks along the lines of Garden State). There are some delightful moments (including Cohen’s stop motion sequences, the film’s cute final scene and admittedly the entire character of the amiable Lilly), and, certainly, if it had been released three years earlier then the film would no doubt be a cult classic. As is, though, it is not worth watching this one more than once, because you’ve already seen it all before to start with.

Rating: 7.3

Adapted from a 600 page novel by celebrated author Anna Gavalda, Hunting and Gathering marks the first time that veteran French filmmaker Claude Berri (Jean de Florette, The Housekeeper) has looked towards a younger generation for his subjects. The film tracks the lives of three, vastly different 20-something year-olds over the course of a year, as they are unexpectedly thrust into a shared living space. Philibert (Laurent Stocker) is a kind-hearted, stuttering aristocrat temporarily looking after a large, regal apartment for his wealthy family, Franck (Guilaume Canet) is his temperamental housemate and Camille (Audrey Tautou) is their lost and lonely neighbour, who Philibert takes under his wings after she develops the flu. There are some touching moments (particularly thanks to Philibert) and the performances are all impressive (especially Francoise Bertin in a gracious turn of Franck’s grandmother Paulette), but on the whole the film suffers slightly from the stilted feel of inadequate adaptation. The narrative jumps through developments with an awkward swiftness, the story’s romantic plotline feels like it must have been drastically simplified and, although Berri did make many changes to the original novel, he did not inject enough structure into the story’s flowing narrative to make it feel like a movie rather than an extended episode of television drama. This is a sweet movie, but it just doesn’t pack a punch, or the melancholic flavour one could have expected from this director.

Rating: 7.0

This Monday, the US/Ugandan documentary War/Dance opens at Joondalup Pines for PIAF’s Lotterywest Film Festival. Gifted with an extraordinary story and some colourful interview characters, War/Dance is a compelling look at the poverty stricken Achioli tribe in northern Uganda, where a class at the Patonga refugee camp primary school has been asked to compete in a nationwide music and dance competition in Kampala. The students, many of whom are orphaned, have seen the atrocities of war first hand, and lived amongst conflict their entire life. By focusing on three outspoken class members, we learn of their unbelievable individual sufferings and the potential of music and passion to provide relief in amongst the darkest circumstances. Like some sort of cross between sweet innocence of Mad Hot Ballroom and the powerful emotion of Born Into Brothels, this documentary is compelling and, ultimately, deeply affecting.

Rating: 7.9

vier minuten; outsourced

2007-12-03T03:21:00.000-08:00

Next Monday (10 December), Sommerville replaces The Dinner Guest with Four Minutes (Vier Minuten) – a highly taut German character study. This film follows the elderly piano tutor Traude Kruger (Monica Bleibtreu), as she struggles to impart some musical knowledge onto Jenny (Hannah Herzsprung), a gifted but traumatised inmate at the woman’s penitentiary. Though the two women are divided by age and by experience, a potent, almost electric, relationship develops between them, forcing them both to come to terms with the weight of their pasts as they titter perilously between sanity and hysteria. And far from diverging into a sloppy fairytale about the transformative power of music, Four Minutes remains captivating in its complexity; positioning music simultaneously as the interest that unites the woman, and as the force that divides and torments them. Get ready for another darkly enthralling offering from Germany, propelled by a powerful soundtrack and two near-flawless performances.

Rating: 8.0

Meanwhile, at Sommerville’s sister cinema, Joondalup Pines (located at ECU Joondalup), the PIAF film seasons gets started with Outsourced – a cross-cultural romantic comedy set against the backdrop of call centre chaos. The zaniness begins when Todd Anderson (Josh Hamilton) is forced to swap his comfortable Seattle office cubicle for a dingy building in the middle on the outskirts of an Indian city. Here, his new job to educate Indian telemarketing staff in the art of sounding American. More cynical cinema-goers will be frustrated by Todd’s extreme cultural ignorance, as well as by the unrealistic and somewhat simple romance that develops between him and the vivacious Asha (Ayesha Dharker), one of his staff members. Nonetheless, there’s something quite delightfully humorous about this brazen culture clash (nothing beats the comedic impact of a cow nonchalantly wandering through an office), and there is relief to be found in other moments of the film, when the scriptwriters’ demonstrate an astute ability to portray those more nuanced cultural differences, and inevitable cultural similarities.

Rating: 6.9

Hola Mexico!

2007-11-27T03:18:00.000-08:00

The 2007 Hola Mexico Film Festival is all about new beginnings. For starters, the festival is only one year old, having been founded by Festival Director Samuel Douek just last year. “At the moment I’m deliberately bringing a wide selection of films to the festival, because I still don’t know my crowd that well,” Douek confesses. “I’m just trying to bring something for everyone. I try to bring some comedy, some drama, some thriller and some horror – just bringing films from all the genres that are happening in Mexico.”

Secondly, the festival also represents new beginnings for the Mexican film industry. Following a brief hiatus from the international cinema scene, Mexican film is once again garnering popular attention, thanks to the efforts of “The Big 3” – Alejandro Gonzalez Iñárritu (Babel), Guillermo del Toro (Pan’s Labyrinth) and Alfonso Cuaron (Children of Men). “These three directors are not necessarily making ‘Mexican cinema,’ but are shifting the eyes of the world towards Mexico,” Douet suggests. “They are forcing people to say, ‘OK so these guys came from Mexico; let’s see what else is from there.’”

In celebration of “The Big 3,” the festival presents its ‘A Tribute to Mexico’ program, featuring the debt films of each of the three directors (Iñárritu's Amores Perros, Del Toro’s Cronos and Cuaron’s Solo con tu Pareja.) In setting their sights towards an international audience, all of these directors have in some sense forsaken that strong Mexican filmmaking essence in favour of Hollywood styling, so this program celebrates their traditional origins. “Each of the three films represents the really good beginnings of their careers, while it’s really interesting to see what they were doing with not that much money, and when they were still making films for an exclusively Mexican audience,” Douet explains.

For the remainder of the program, Douet has similarly focused his attention upon debuting directors. He gushes; “There are all these new directors coming out right now – it’s a whole new filmmaking generation! So, a lot of the films in this festival are the first or second films from directors, and these are really the new faces of Mexico cinema. They have such crazy ideas and their filmmaking is so good and so artistic, with influences as diverse as Indian or French cinema. And I think these are the films that really represent a growing Mexican film industry.”

Douet is particularly thrilled by the selection of documentaries on offer. This year there are two. One is 1973, the remarkably real romantic comedy story about a woman who, in search a lost love, contacts three men of the exact same name, promting each of them to respond in turn. The second is Born Without, Eva Norvind’s documentary about armless musician/actor, Jose Flores (completed Norvind’s daughter after Eva’s death in 2006). “They are so amazing this year, I’ve been really surprised,” Douet remakrs, “And the stories that are behind these two documentaries are almost more remarkable than the documentaries themselves!”

While all these filmmakers may be newcomers to the Mexican scene, Douet emphasizes the fact that they remain true to the Mexican film spirit. “When people ask me what is characteristic about Mexican cinema I would say ‘the reality.’ I think people like the idea of the raw or the real, or something that isn’t fake, just like Mexican cinema.” Then, in an almost-awkward sounding whisper, he recalls how last year he spotted several movie goers leaving cinema halls early, perhaps because they could not handle such an intense dose of reality. “I don’t think I’ve seen a single person leave the cinema this year,” he laughs. And for only his second attempt at directing a festival, that’s not bad at all.

Into the Wild; September

2007-11-25T03:14:00.000-08:00

Transposing backpacking escapades into a group email or internet blog is always a challenge. The sprawling nature of new experiences is not well suited to such restricting formats, and the seemingly endless list of ‘Wacky Things that Happened to Me’ will often bore the friends who have stayed behind, and who read of your adventures from their office cubicle. The first hour of Into the Wild is comparable to this phenomenon. Based upon a true story, it follows the journey of Christopher McCandless (Emile Hirsch), who has just graduated from college and is therefore finally free to dispose of his affluent existence in favour of a lonesome trek up to Alaska. Not wanting to feel ‘chained’ to society, he donates his life savings to Oxfam, dumps his car and burns his remaining dollars, hoping that the wilderness will deliver him salvation from the insidious materialistic world he has left behind. What follows is a collage of scenes that depict his various travel experiences, and that jump through chronology to be loosely ordered in a sequence that depicts his personal maturation.

For the most part, this seemingly endless string of new experiences is exhausting. The cinematography may be breath-taking, but it’s doubtless that the film would have benefited from some far more severe editing. Its slow pace combined with the sheer volume of experience that director Sean Penn packs into this limited space is a little overwhelming. It has to be acknowledged, though, that like bathroom renovations, a history textbook or a week of exams, you won’t fully appreciate Into the Wild until it is over. It is also only with hindsight that the significance of scenes that had previously seemed arbitrary is made clear, transforming the film from a simple travelogue to a complex philosophical exploration of human nature. In the end, despite it being such hard work, Into the Wild is a profoundly worthwhile experience, and the film’s philosophical undertones are no difficult to quickly shake-off.

8.0

Australian films often have a tendency to lose themselves in the thick web of their own clichés and, when a movie is set in the 1960s on a dry wheat field, audiences can not be wholly blamed for fearing the worse. There is, however, something quite transcendental about Peter Castair’s feature debut, September, despite the story’s specific location. The film follows the lifelong friendship between two 16-year old boys – Ed (Xavier Samuel of 2:37), whose parents own and run an expansive wheat farm, and Paddy (Warwick Senior High School’s Clarence John Ryan), whose parents work of Ed’s in exchange for food and shelter. Inevitably, times begin to change, and as new laws are introduced (requiring fair pay for Aboriginal work) and as Ed’s attention gravitates towards his school’s ‘new girl’ Amelia (Mia Wasikowska), the friendship begins to fracture and eventually shatter.

September is the first film to be produced by the Tropfest Feature Program – an incentive designed to extend Tropfest’s interest in exposing emerging talent (through its short film festival) to sustaining this talent through career support for new filmmakers. Indeed, September is powered by that feeling of freshness brought to it by Peter Castair’s youthful vision. The dialogue is refreshingly (and appropriately) sparse, while the meaningful silences are plumped by poetic cinematography. Low depth of field emphasises the character drama, and the powerful performances of the young leads (who are never overshadowed by their older counterparts). Some of the hand-held camera work feels a touch misplaced but there is something quite captivating about this slowly-unfolding drama. And if you’re worried that the ‘black and white friendship angle’ will veer into didactic preaching or trite cultural commentary, have no fear, because September is far from this. The thematic undertones of this narrative certainly transcend its 1960s context, but it remains nonetheless a realistic snapshot of Australia’s past, produced with the highest level of storytelling talent and artistic integrity.

9.0

Interview

2007-11-19T21:01:00.000-08:00

These days, Dutch director Theo Van Gogh is probably more famous for his 2004 death (he was murdered by a religious fundamentalist upset by his portrayal of Islam in a short film) than for his actual films. After his tragic death, however, two Dutch producers decided to return attention to Van Gogh’s work by fulfilling his dream to remake three of his movies in English with Hollywood stars. The first of these three films is Interview, starring Sienna Miller as Katya, a glowing celebrity who stars in B-grade films and television soapies, and Steve Buscemi as Pierre, the fatigued political journalist who is forced to interview her. Like all of Van Gogh’s films, this one’s focus is the relationship that develops between the two characters, as, through a series of coincidental events, they end up sharing the night together, confessing secrets and testing each others resolve.

Filmed in Van Gogh’s characteristic cinematographic style (a three-point camera system and a short filming schedule) and largely in one single location (Katya’s sparse penthouse apartment), this film feels a little like a recorded play. On the one hand, this renders the performances fresh and natural, with both Miller and Buscemi shining in roles that essentially critique their usual performance choices. On the other hand, however, the dialogue itself feels extremely artificial. Try as they might, Miller and Buscemi just do not succeed in pouring enough honesty into their performances to make up for the stiff scriptwriting. The final result is film that is obviously striving for intensity, but falling just short of the mark. As a showcase for Van Gogh, and also for Buscemi (who actually directed the film), Interview unfortunately lacks the extra punch necessary to push it out of mediocrity.

Rating: 7.0

Crazy Love

2007-11-19T20:58:00.000-08:00

Despite their relationship making tabloid headlines in the sixties, today very few people will have heard of Burt and Linda Pugach. And, despite Crazy Love being a documentary entirely about their relationship, initially, very little attempt is made to explain their significance to the audience. At first, Crazy Love feels boring and pointless – it presents a stream of unknown interview subjects discussing the seemingly insignificant and rather innocuous ‘early days of Burt and Linda.’ At this point, the most intriguing aspect of the film is the trashy appearance of these interviewees (complete with diamante-studded sunglasses and a fake tan that induced audible giggles from the audience). The film’s ability to lull its audience into a false sense of security, however, is actually what makes the ensuing developments so utterly surprising. In true tabloid fashion, this mundane exposition contrasts ideally with the shocking twists that are to follow.
To discuss these zany developments would be to undermine the film’s entire central premise and yet, at the same time, there does seem to be so much more to this film than the headline-worthy scandals it exposes. Director Dan Klores actually seems to push beyond the sensationalist gleam of the story to expose some humanity beneath it. His interviews weave through themes of love, loneliness, desperation and infatuation with a level of insightfulness that disables you from dismissively slotting Crazy Love between Woman’s Weekly and Life Magazine. The interviews with Burt and Linda (now in their 60s and 70s respectively) are particularly well-handled, with both individuals revealing a practical attitude to love that many will be able to relate to, but few will admit to. While there’s little to this film to suggest that it should be viewed on silver screen rather than on television, it is a surprisingly intriguing offering, which holds a particular relevance in a time when people are so interested in sensationalist tales that tabloid headlines often make it to our evening news (albeit not on all stations).
Rating: 6.9

Inland Empire

2007-11-19T20:42:00.000-08:00

It seems as if two separate reviews should accompany Inland Empire; one for the well-seasoned David Lynch connoisseur and another for the more ignorant filmgoer. A fan of this director’s work will be familiar with his complex repertoire; from his sketchy beginnings with Erasurehead, through his more commercial and mainstreams efforts (Elephant Man and, later, Twin Peaks,), all culminating in cinema cult-classics like Blue Velvet and Mullholand Drive. This fan will not be surprised by Lynch’s exploration of blurred subconscious (collective and individual) and so find pleasure in Inland Empire’s gradual slide away from coherent narrative and towards less literal representations of more visceral sentiments. This viewer will applaud the eccentricities that lace this movie, like the inclusion of a nonsensical sitcom about stilted conversation in a house of anthropomorphic rabbits or the arbitrary scenes from an unrelated storyline taking place in Poland. This audience member will be moved by the strong performances of the film, in particular Laura Dern’s ability to slip seamlessly through a whole of personas, and applaud the film’s haunting soundtrack and Lynch’s powerful use of Beck’s “Black Tambourine” (the subversive use of songs being one of the director’s distinct auteur trademarks).

An ordinary filmgoer will have far more difficulty here. They will be frustrated by Lynch’s initial attempt to lull the viewer into a false sense of security, by providing a vague semblance of a narrative before ruthlessly snatching it away. As the original narrative, which sees two upcoming film stars (played by Laura Dern and Justin Theroux) begin work on a new film, disintegrates into detached narrative fragments and morphing personas, this viewer will grow increasingly resentful of Lynch’s failure to cast any shadow of meaning over his work. Attempts to uncover literal or even symbolic sense in the garble of images and sounds will inevitably prove futile, as Lynch weaves a collage that is not only non-linear, but also non-circular, and rather a collection of various jagged edges, heaped together with the appearance of a disaster aftermath. Indeed, this film will test the patience of even the most devoted Lynch fan, as he pushes the surreal envelope further than ever before, offering no respite through length (dragging this torture on for over three hours) or through aesthetics (using digital filmmaking techniques to carve ugly, unappealing images of dull colours and confusing blurs). Unless you have enjoyed every single piece of cinema that Lynch has ever touched, this one is to be approached only with sever caution.

Rating: 2.0

Painting the Town

2007-11-12T20:46:00.000-08:00

It was during the eighties that Tony Bective first took notice of Perth’s street art. At the time, Fremantle was “buzzing” with artistic energy, and it was within this infectious atmosphere that Bective stumbled across the work of Sam Abercrombie (now a famous artist living in Portugal) on a wall at Ciccerllo’s Fish Markets. “Basically, what I saw there was the process was involved with an artist putting a painting on a wall,” he remembers, “I saw all the sketching and the outline and the filling-in with colours and concepts. Then, gradually, as the mural developed, I saw how he [Abercrombie] would rub parts of it out and add new notes. So it was very much like seeing an artist thinking and working on a wall. Normally, you just see the final product, but on this wall you could just see the whole process there and I was fascinated by that.”

Since then, Bective has remained ‘on the look out’ for more artistic evidence on the streets of Perth, photographing the most distinct works he comes across during regular walks or cycles through the city. This week, Artrage presents an exhibit of the best in his collection. “I’ve got something like 1200 slides all up and each one is very different,” Bective stresses, “Even the smaller ones, that perhaps use less colour, are still impressive in their intricacy, or just in terms of where the artists have done it. People are using so many mediums now too, it’s being done with spray painting and texture, while others are just writing messages or using stick-on labels. It’s all very intricate and it takes a lot of time and care. It’s not just slaphappy; these artists consciously think about and then have to go out and actually put it somewhere.”

For Bective, though, Perth’s intolerant attitude is stifling the art form. He compares our perception of street art to that which exists in Melbourne and Sydney, where street art is often held up as an urban feature or tourist attraction. “Years ago, Perth’s street art was a bit better, because we could see it and it stayed up longer,” he laments, “It had a bigger presence, whereas nowadays it’s a real race. People put it up and it’s taken down straight away, because it is just seen as defacing. It’s a real war out there, so it’s becoming more tagging or ‘glorified tagging,’ as opposed to art that’s trying to say something about the community or individuals.

“I also guess that that doesn’t exist to the same extent in Perth because we don’t have as much of a social consciousness here, compared to elsewhere. I don’t think we’re as politically minded. When you look at different communities or areas, like in L.A. or Mexico or South America, street art is a social and political statement. It’s used to tell stories of the community, and make political statements about conflict. In Northern Ireland for example, street art will actually reflect what’s going on in the streets. I would have thought Aboriginal youth would be doing more political or social art to say ‘We’re here, what the fuck is going on?’ or something that will convey their voices to people, but I haven’t seen that.”

Nonetheless, Bective still believes that there is a place for street art in Perth, hoping that his exhibit will increase our city’s awareness of the art form and encourage more commissioned work. In particular, he emphasises the decorative potential of street art, and its ability to transform an uninviting environment into an urban playground. “Quite frankly, some of our buildings and gas tanks and huge factories are pretty bland and awful, and could do well with some fantastic graffiti,” he suggests. “These artists could be encouraged to channel their expression. Companies could just say, ‘Instead of defacing my wall, why don’t you do some art here?’ Then the art becomes part of the environment, and I think that would be very exciting – and also probably the only way to avoid seeing your building actually defaced.”

Bomb Harvest

2007-11-05T20:39:00.000-08:00

As a young Australian soldier, Laith Stevens once dreamt of signing up for the Gulf War. As an adult and a bomb disposal specialist now working in Laos, he has grown a very different perspective. Bomb Harvest is the Australian-produced documentary that tracks Steven’s work in Loas, as he trains a new Lao ‘big bomb team,’ and later travels around the country with them, in order to test their skills on live, dangerous bombs left in inhabited areas. With a ‘typically Australian’ informality and forthrightness, Laith is every filmmaker’s dream subject. He is almost immediately endearing, and thus relieves the film of its potential to verge into overwhelmingly heavy territory – something that director Kim Mourdaunt pushes further, by focusing upon the individual personalities of all members travelling in the team, and also upon the distinct cultures and traditions of Loas.

Simultaneously, though, this documentary maintains a grip on its more serious aspects. Asides provide an insight into one of Vietnam War’s lesser-known atrocities – the ‘secret war’ occurring across the border in Loas, named thusly because the American government of the time entirely denied its existence. Today, few people realise that Loas is the most heavily bombed area in the world. In particular areas, the number of dropped bombs actually exceeds the number of inhabitants. While pointing these facts out, Mourdaunt also cleverly breaks up the bomb team’s journey with news reports and presidential speeches from around the time of the Vietnam War, all of which echo today’s ‘just war’ rhetoric. Notably, there is no patronising narration present to point out the frightening comparisons. There doesn’t need to be; this movie’s footage speaks for itself. With only two screenings this weekend at Cinema Paradiso, it’s only a pity that more people will not be able to see the simple, but incredibly powerful, documentary.

Rating: 7.5

Delirious

2007-11-05T20:08:00.000-08:00

Forgotten director Tom DeCillo has synchronised his recent return to the cinema radar with a return to the themes that gained him recognition in the first place. Before he disappeared behind the B-grade curtain for a few years, DeCillo directed a quirky little independent film about independent filmmaking, called Lost in Oblivion. In his latest release, Delirious, sees the director once again cast a satirical eye over the movie industry, but this time he has climbed up the budget ladder to peer directly into Hollywood, examining Hollywood’s notorious celebrity culture and the very notion of fame. Michael Pitt (Last Days ,The Dreamers) dons his usual five o’clock shadow and slightly dazed look to play Toby Grace, an optimistic homeless youth driven by a vague desire to become an actor. After a coincidental meeting, he ends up living in the squalid apartment of a paparazzi photographer/self-appointed philosopher, Les, (played by Steve Buscemi). DeCillo actually wrote this role with Buscemi in mind (after Buscemi starred in a number of his past films, including Lost in Oblivion), and the actor slides flawlessly into the shoes of this worn-down professional, who actually lacks all the connections and experience that he frequently boasts about.

Flicking randomly from comedy to drama, Delirious is pleasantly unpredictable. One moment you’re being hit with a powerful character insight, and the next you’re laughing at a cunning satire of star publicity. The increasing intensity of Les and Toby’s relationship is balanced nicely by the more comedic plot developments, including Toby’s with the talentless starlet K’harma, and later his role on a hilarious reality TV show. Vice versa, the light-heartedness of these developments serves to increase the impact of the film’s more powerful serious moments, like when we see Les disintegrate into a bumbling mess in front of Elvis Costello or Toby painfully make sacrifices in the hope of winning Les’s approval. While it may not really bring anything new to the sheer wealth of celebrity culture themed films, Delirious is eccentric and entertaining enough to warrant a look. With an appropriately rough, grungy cinematograph, a strong soundtrack and a clever marketing campaign (look up “Gina Gershon Sex Tape” in YouTube), the film heralds a promising future for DeCillo.

Rating: 7.0

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford

2007-10-29T19:59:00.000-07:00

A good Western, like say, The Proposition, will push through its genre restrictions and clichés to touch on realistic human predicaments and carve a genuinely captivating story in a unique setting. For all its claim to be a ‘psychological Western,’ The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford does neither of these things. Based upon Ron Hansen’s novel of the same name, it is intended as a look beyond the sensational newspaper articles and dime novels that have characterised James and Ford as a simplistic hero/coward duo in America’s collective memory. The casting of the two men is spot on – Brad Pitt being ideally predisposed to portray the troubled charisma of James (America’s Ned Kelly), and Casey Affleck (who starred alongside Pitt in Ocean’s) being perfectly suited for the grating forwardness of Ford. The cinematography is spectacular, with the opening train robbery scene unarguably exhibiting flawless technical and artistic mastery.

And yet for all that there is to like about this film, it is as if the screenwriters failed to realise that not everything that works on paper can be simply transposed onto the silver screen. Affleck’s perfect portrayal of the ingratiating Ford grows increasingly difficult to stomach – reading about an unlikable character may be enjoyable, but when he becomes the centre of your visual attention it is not so easy to bare. The poetic visuals also sit uneasily. Just as you grow increasingly tired of Ford, you will also grow sick of endless wheat fields and dawn-lit countryside. Add to that the tedious rivalries of the James’ gang members, as well as the decision to carry the narrative beyond James’ death with a “six months later” section that is far too long to be an epilogue and far too short to flow on from the rest of the film, and what you have is a fairly average offering. Even Nick Cave’s soundtrack (written together with Warren Ellis) is, while solid, predictably melancholic and rather unimaginative. At nearly three hours, this film is just too much hard work if you aren’t a die-hard Western fan.

Rating: 6.5

Across the Universe

2007-10-29T19:22:00.000-07:00

Reminiscent of Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge!, Across the Universe swirls 33 Beatles’ songs through a story of the love, loss and anti-war protests. It tracks the journey of the predictably-named Jude (Jim Sturgess), as he leaves Liverpool for Princeton in search of his birth father. While he may not find the paternal comfort he had been expecting, he does find a new direction after befriending Max (Joe Anderson) and his effervescent sister, Lucy (Evan Rachel Woods). Together, the three of them end up moving to New York to pursue a colourful bohemian existence, fuelled by music, art, energy and protest – where plot becomes secondary to the evocative sights and sounds of the sixties. By now the soundtrack has been well and truly focused centre stage, giving way to sprawling psychedelic sequences and fluoro animations set to recognisable Beatles’ classics. At this point, director Julie Taymore (Frida, Titus and the Broadway musical The Lion King) makes the risky decision to preference style over substance. And this is a risk that does not pay off.

Across the Universe’s colourful fantasy world feels inconsistent, forced and actually quite uninspired. All the usual sixties clichés are rolled out (Vietnam War, drug culture, civil rights protests), as if their presence alone should be enough to give the film some sort of deeper significance. Relationships are lost in the flurry of colour, particularly as the focus of the film swings schizophrenically through an entire range of incidental characters. Classic tracks are allowed to unnecessarily sprawl out at their full length where they would have functioned far more effectively as montages or snippets, particularly given the film’s rather painful length. The film’s tone shifts awkwardly from gritty realism and complex song interpretations to ridiculous theatrics and meaningless vocals (for example, “Dear Prudence” is sung to a character called Prudence with little actual connection to the narrative – Bollywood, anyone?). Essentially, this film becomes a mere showcase of the versatility of The Beatles’ music, rather than a sophisticated fusion of recognisable lyrics with fresh interpretations. It’s enjoyable – but only if conceived as a sequence of disjointed video clips set to some quite pleasing covers, rather than as a supposedly integrated whole.

Rating: 6.5

Interview with Sam Riley

2007-10-22T19:13:00.000-07:00

Post-punk pioneers, Joy Division, are one “those” bands.. One of those bands that inspire a quasi-religious following and widespread reverence from fans and musicians alike. One of those bands that never seem to stop attracting new listeners, topping various “all-time best song lists” over years thirty years after their break-up. One of those bands with a frontman whose dark decline that has now become a pop culture legend.

It was, therefore, a big deal when production began on Control – a new, no-holes-barred biopic that charts Ian Curtis’s rise to success, and subsequent descent into personal darkness. From the outset, director Anton Corbijn made clear his intentions to look beneath the surface of Curtis’s facade, and to not shy away from his infidelity or battles with epilepsy and depression. Little-known actor Sam Riley (who ironically played Mark E Smith in 24 Hour Party People before his short role was cut in post-production) is happy to laugh about the pressure he felt taking on the role of Joy Division’s frontman. “It was out of my control,” he jokes, somehow not yet sick of a pun that he must have heard many times before.

“He wasn’t anyone I personally revered or idolised,” Riley eventually admits, “so it wasn’t until I went onto the internet and looked at a Joy Division forum that I started really panicking. After it was announced that I would be playing Curtis, I foolishly went back to look again and there was mass panic and fear. The fans were all looking at photos of me and commenting on how I looked nothing like Ian. Which I don’t think I do normally – no one has ever said I have done. And then the fear kicked in.”

Corbijn, however, obviously saw something that Riley didn’t. He claims to have seen “something of Curtis” in Riley the first time he laid eyes on the young actor. “I can’t imagine that to be true,” Riley denies, “I think he’s a photographer, and what he saw was a snapshot of me; outside, smoking and shivering in the cold, wearing an overcoat. No, I don’t think we have the same aura. Though I don’t know what his was, as I never met him.”

Either way, Riley’s performance has been celebrated by even the most devoted Joy Division fans, with New Order themselves applauding the film. Riley credits his success to the fact that Corbijn never asked him to play a “rock star.” He explain; “I could deal with the pressure because my instructions were to play a young man with an exceptional talent, who chased his dreams, fell in love with two people and then had it all get too much for him – not to play the son of God.

“After all, [Curtis] is not a classic in many respects,” Riley continues, “On stage, he isn’t the strutting rock star that a lot his heroes are. He looks very vulnerable at his most manic, and the clothes and the hair almost make him look childlike. And it’s not all sex, drugs and rock and roll – the rock and roll was his life passion, the drugs were prescribed medications for epilepsy, and the sex was with his wife and girlfriend, who he loved. So it’s not the classic rock story in any respect.”

Rather than merely replicating the exterior of the musician then, Riley dove into an intense research stage, focusing his attention upon the singer’s complex interior and writhing contradictions. He read and re-read Deborah Curtis’s novel Touching from a Distance (which details Curtis’s infidelity and was the greatest inspiration for the Control screenplay). “The book really gives you the most insight into him as a character,” he emphasises, “And it isn’t the most flattering look at a young man, but that didn’t put me off; that was just more interesting. He was very complicated, he was very young, and he was only a teenager when he got married. I mean that wasn’t so unusual those days, but it was still probably too early to make that decision. And he was petulant and moody, but also good fun and very compassionate towards people, from all accounts.”

In attempting to fully understand Curtis, Riley also drew upon his own experience as a musician, comparing it to Curtis’s. “There are actually some things we have in common,” he explains, “We both dreamt of being rock stars, we both came from the same place in England, and I understand some of his fears. I’ve never contended with epilepsy and depression, but once you start seeing the world through his eyes than it’s not particularly hard to understand the dilemmas and problems he was faced with. He wasn’t a conscience-free rock and roller who I might have had trouble relating to, he was a thoughtful guy and really resented himself for putting his wife and child in that position.”

It would appear as if Riley actually encountered more challenges in attempting to capture the more superficial details of Curtis. He recalls how he spent seemingly endless days watching the very limited selection of Joy Division video footage available today (totalling in just over one hour), in an attempt to appropriately gauge Curtis’s idiosyncratic dance moves. “The only connection we have musically is that the music I played was similar to the music that Ian looked up to, because I revered David Bowie and Iggy Pop and The Doors, just has he did. But there’s where the similarities end, in terms of our performance roles.”

Nonetheless, after many days of dance practise, Riley felt he had finally managed to grasp something of Curtis’s style. He also believes that the live music scenes (in which he actually sings, almost perfectly replicating Curtis’s distinct tone), just “clicked” because of the particular casting choices. “We loved playing together, we loved being a band,” he recalls enthusiastically, “and once we’d got our costumes on had our haircuts it all just fit. You’d have a tough time convincing us that we weren’t Joy Division, because we loved it.”

This sentiment ideally echoes the advice that Riley received from Bernard Sumner himself (guitarist and keyboardist in Joy Division), when several of the cast members made the most of an invaluable opportunity to meet New Order. He remembers; “The weekend before we were starting filming, they happened to be playing Liverpool, so they invited Anton [Corbijn], Samantha [Morton, who plays Deborah] and the boys [in the band] to go up and watch them play. Then we met them backstage, and everyone was talking to their counterparts, though mine wasn’t there of course. I spoke mainly to Bernard, who gave me confidence because he said that I had something about me that was similar to Ian. And he said that we should have fun, because they had fun being Joy Division. And that was the sum total of advice that we received from New Order, because that’s the way that they are. “

At this point Riley again mentions how happy he was to later learn that New Order “loved the film.” I point out that that is indeed a compliment of the highest order, and he retorts with another laugh, “Indeed! You could actually say that it was a compliment of the highest new order!”

Control, Eastern Promises, Waitress

2007-10-22T19:09:00.000-07:00

Many biopics suffer under a pretty formulaic treatment. Director falls for musician; director idolises musician; director channels sloppy sentiments into movie; director portrays musician in an idealistic, and often very simplistic, manner. This, however, is exactly where Control shines. The cinematic debut of Anton Corbijn (previously famous for rock photography and music video direction) presents a realistically balanced portrait of Ian Curtis (Sam Riley), the enigmatic frontman of Joy Division. You’ll find no pedestals here; instead, the many varying sides of Curtis’s personality are laid bare, allowing audiences to form their own opinions. Charting his development from a bored recruitment officer to a tortured musical icon, this film closely examines his relationship with his wife, Deborah (Samantha Morton), and later his affair with Belgium journalist, Annik Honore (Alexander Maria Lara). The narrative’s inevitable pull towards Curtis’ disintegration and suicide makes it all the more enthralling viewing. Filmed entirely in black and white, this is a film that has truly succeeded in capturing the bittersweet tone of the period while simultaneously maintaining a captivating level of character complexity. Aside from some of Riley’s dance moves (that feel more robotic than the awkward motions of Curtis), this is a near-flawless film that should satiate film-lovers and Joy Division devotees alike.

Rating: 8.8

Canadian director David Cronenberg has long been polarising audience opinion through his extreme treatment of the human body. Under Cronenberg’s direction, the body is transformed into a piece of meat. If it is male, it will be thrown around the set with the set with all the weight of a worthless prop, inevitably ending up as a mass of slaughtered, bloody pulp. If it is female, it will become the star of an explicit sex scene, often being similarly treated as a prop that catalyses male pleasure. Cronenberg maintains this attitude in his latest thriller, Eastern Promises – a London-based tale of Russia’s global criminal brotherhood, Vory V Zakone, and the innocent midwife, Anna Khitrova (Naomi Watts), who is inexorably drawn into their world. At long last, though, Cronenberg’s physical and sexual excesses do not feel arbitrary. Instead, these extremes work to develop the film’s dark and threatening tone, to explore the limits of the male characters and to further the tautly thrilling narrative progression. Even the performances feel far more even-handed than in Cronenberg’s previous offerings, with Viggo Mortenson ideally capturing the moral ambiguity of Nikolai Luzhin (the official chauffer of the brotherhood) and Watts perfectly articulating Anna’s conflicting emotions of fear and curiosity. Combine this all with a genuinely tense, interesting and fairly complex storyline, and what you have here is one of Cronenberg’s most mature and impressive offerings thus far.

Rating: 9.0

There are plenty of sweet little comedies out there, and while many may succeed in producing that familiar, warm, fuzzy feeling, few do so with the aid of characters that are as truly memorable as those featured in Waitress. Written and directed by Adrienne Shelly (who also acts in it), Waitress in set in America’s deep south, where Jenna (Kerri Russell) dreams of escaping her loveless, abusive marriage, until an unexpected pregnancy throws her plans of course. The pregnancy, which she initially sees as a curse, gradually evolves into a blessing-in-disguise, as it introduces her to the town’s new doctor, with whom she begins a risky affair. The film suffers a little from some uneven pacing, some jerky shifts in tone, and also from some unnecessarily repeated messages (a husband doesn’t need to shout “Make me my dinner” ad nauseum for us to understand that he’s a bad guy!). Nonetheless, though, Russell has made the most of this showcase, channelling a grace to rival Natalie Portman, while all the supporting cast members are equally memorable in their portrayals of the idiosyncratic characters that surround her. And don’t even get me started on the electric chemistry that sparks between Jenna and the doctor (Nathan Fillion). With a powerfully heart-warming conclusion, Waitress may well be the romantic comedy of the year.

Rating: 8.9

Interview with Elysia Zeccola

2007-10-19T01:21:00.000-07:00

They say that Italians are all about family. Elysia Zeccola, the manager of this year’s Lavazza Italian Film Festival, jokes about the all-enveloping nature of her father’s “big Italian family, who made it impossible for her English mother to avoid adopting the culture and learning the language." Even work is a family affair for Zeccola, who has spent the last eight years organising the festival alongside her father, Antonio (the managing director), who actually proposed the original vision for an Italian film festival eight years ago.

“Back then, we saw how well the French one was doing and we just thought, ‘Why isn’t anyone organising an Italian festival?’ It seemed strange, because Italy has got such a long established and well respected film industry and so many fantastic films, so we decided to start organising one ourselves,” she reflects, “In the first year we picked up a selection of films and screened them only in Melbourne and Sydney, and pretty much from the second year onwards we’ve just expanded, because there seems to be such a demand and people just enjoy those films so much. We’re getting more and more films and also expanding at each individual location. In Perth it was just at Paradiso initially, and it’s moved to Paradiso and Luna on SX.”

Zeccola makes no claims to understand the festival’s ever-growing popularity, but she does emphasise the particular power that film can have over Italian migrants living in Australia. “So many Italian films touch on immigration themes – and whether they’re talking about immigration to Canada or America or Australia, they’re looking at experiences that all migrants can sort of connect with,” she stresses. “Even for second or third generation migrants, these are films about people who have moved from small villages and travelled across the world to live in another country, and as you watch them you realise that that’s what your parents have also done and it’s quite interesting.”

Zeccola herself certainly used film as a means to connect with her own Italian identity. From the age of 11 she worked a foreign film cinema and reflects fondly upon the days of “sitting up the back watching the film, once you’ve ripped everyone’s tickets.” It was in this dark space that Zeccola first tasted Italian celluloid, and quickly found herself hooked. “I’d definitely watch a lot of these films, and slowly it became so important for me to learn Italian,” she remembers, “because after I saw all these Italian language films I felt very much that I had such a strong connection with the country.”

This year, the film festival programme presents a wide range of Italian films, all of them united in box office success. “They aren’t all blockbusters, but they are all films that have reached a certain level of success and have gained good reviews in Italy,” Zeccola explains. “It’s a combination of factors. Some of them have stars and actors that people are interesting in seeing, while some are just films that have really succeeded in touching hearts through their themes.”

There is certainly a diverse range of subject material on offer. Personally, Zeccola recommends Manual of Love 2 (Manuale D’Amore 2), the sequel to Italy’s record breaking romantic comedy, that returns once again with four more interconnecting love stories. She also speaks highly of One Hundred Nails (Centochiodi), the final fiction film from Palme D’Or winning director, Ermanno Olmi, who has decided to from now on only produce documentaries. This film delves into the heavy themes of theology, love and friendship, after a country librarian awakes to find 100 rare manuscripts nailed to his library floor.

“They’re all so varied! There’s such a great mix there because Italians are always churning out so many great films, which makes my job easy,” Zeccola laughs. “People say that Italian films are always about passion and infidelity and adultery, and there certainly is a lot of that going on, but there’s also so much more to it.”

The Night Before Exams, One Out of Two

2007-10-19T01:10:00.000-07:00

This year, the Lavazza Italian Film Festival presents a range of Italian box office hits, including the light-hearted The Night Before Exams (Notte Prima Degli Esami). After witnessing the first five minutes of this film, you’d be forgiven for thinking that you’d accidentally stumbled into a subtitled version of John Hughes. Its introduction bares all the classic hallmarks of American eighties teen comedy – from fluro leggings and novelty shirts through to sweeping aerial shots of enthusiastic adolescents engaged in synchronised partying around a glittering backyard pool. And, like any respectable teen comedy, Luca (the awkward-looking teenager who directs the story with his reflective narration, played by Nicolas Vaporidis) is simultaneously facing girl and teacher troubles. He is in love with the beautiful Claudia (Cristiana Capotondi), who may or may not remember his name, and he’s just gone ahead and insulted a literature professor (Giorgio Faletti) before realising that the teacher will actually be sitting in on his oral exam. What a conundrum!

Beyond this predictable exposition, though, The Night Before Exams does carry some endearingly European characteristics. For starters, this film features a lot of breasts. That’s right; like any foreign film worth its salt, it’s just that little bit racier than its American counterpart. Also, there’s a fair amount of actual drama. Rather than simply dealing with high school stereotypes and the real people beneath them, this film is tinted by some more serious themes like teen pregnancy, loyalty, respect, trust and death. These dramatic developments sit comfortably alongside the comedic antics of the main characters, appropriately conveying the teenagers’ swinging emotional states. This film is nothing spectacular, but the narrative is simple enough to easily enjoy, and deep enough to actually respect a little, while the colourful eighties milieux provides solid entertainment value. After all, if a film’s dramatic conclusion is accompanied by “The Final Countdown,” then you know it must be good value.

A more serious offering, being showcased as part of the same film festival, is One Out of Two (Uno Su Due). Following up on his reputation for realistically representing contemporary Italian life, director Eugenio Cappuccio introduces us to the high-flying corporate lawyer, Lorenzo (Fabio Volo), without making any attempt to direct our sympathy towards him. The film essentially begins when the seemingly-invincible Lorenzo suddenly faints and ends up in hospital, only to wake up and discover that he has a malignant brain tumour. Forced to wait several weeks for the results of his biopsy, Lorenzo grows increasingly enraged – at the perceptive cancer patient he is forced to share a room with, at his usually-meek business partner and at his caring girlfriend. Having fought hard all his life in order to climb the ladder of financial prosperity, Lorenzo does not react well to this sudden bout of special attention, no matter how well-intentioned.

This film takes a while to truly gain momentum. The first half mainly charts Lorenzo’s growing irritation as he awaits the test results, which is frustrating for audiences. Perhaps exactly because the film so accurately captures Lorenzo’s impatience, you’ll find yourself sharing it and genuinely willing the tedious wait to come to an end, which is a not altogether desirable effect. Once events begin to speed up, though, and as Lorenzo finally begins to grow as a character, the plotline does deliver some genuinely touching developments. It’s also hard not to notice Volo’s outstanding turn as Lorenzo, which just seems to grow stronger as the film progresses. Volo was actually awarded Best Italian Actor at the Rome Film Festival for this part, and rightly so. He subtly injects the character with an overwhelmingly rich complexity, conveying a multitude of contradicting emotions through a single look. His performance is a definite highlight in what is otherwise a fairly unremarkable offering.

The Night Before Exams: 6.7

One Out of Two: 5.9

Year of the Dog

2007-10-08T20:01:00.000-07:00

Anyone who has every forged an emotional connection with a pet will find it very difficult to dislike Year of the Dog. Few films have so subtly and accurately captured the relationship between human and animal, and the catastrophic feeling of loss that accompanies the death of a pet. Without sliding into any clichés or predictable character developments, screenwriter Mike White (in his first original screenplay) represents the sometimes hysterical, sometimes pathetic and sometimes sympathetic journey of the relatable receptionist Peggy (Molly Shannon), after she finds her beloved dog Pencil dead in her neighbour’s yard. Having previously relied upon Pencil as her sole companion, Peggy is suddenly thrust into the world of human interaction once again, with a mixed bag of results.

Thanks to both White’s writing and Shannon’s performance, the representation of Peggy as a character reaches an intriguing level of complexity. As she becomes increasingly obsessed with animal welfare campaigns, we are positioned to feel simultaneously angered, alarmed, alienated and approving. We are at once laughing with her and at her, and are thusly forced to reconsider our own personal positions on obsession and depression. It is undeniable, though, that White does get a little carried away at the end of the film, veering the narrative towards extremes that really only serve to confuse the audience. Indeed, it could be said that the film’s disappointing conclusion significantly reduces the rich complexity of the rest of the story. If it had ended just fifteen minutes earlier, before several unnecessarily dramatic developments, the film would have been remembered solely for its complex characters, quirky stylistic devices, and touching mix of pathos and humour. Instead, this is will be remembered as another film that began promisingly, but sadly (and messily) disintegrated. This is probably one to see on DVD, so that you can decide when to stop watching.

Rating: 7.2

The 11th Hour

2007-10-08T19:55:00.000-07:00

These days, it’s all too easy to get lost in the crazy haze of environmentally themed documentaries. Many a documentary is bound to disappear unnoticed, swept under the ever flowing current of inconvenient truths, electric cars and oil production bell curves. On the other hand, though, it’s really not that hard to guarantee yourself a place in popular consciousness. Essentially, all you need is a superstar narrator, and a collection of household names who can step in as your interview subjects. This formula is best exemplified by The 11^th Hour – a documentary that is hosted by none other than Leonardo DiCaprio, and features interviews with David Suzuki, Stephen Hawking and Mikhail Gorbachev. Throw in a frighteningly sensationalist montage of apocalyptic visions (more reminiscent of an action film than a documentary) and you’ve pretty much sealed the deal.

There’s certainly a lot left open to criticism in this film. Yes, the arbitrary choice of interview subjects is woeful, and the hysterical introduction is aggravating. And yet, there is another, far more impressive reason, to see and remember this film. The reason is that, unlike the mainstream of environmental documentaries, this one pushes through its own sensationalist agenda to deliver a note of hope. While An Inconvenient Truth merely skirted over the surface of potential solution, this film explores and celebrates our ability to alter the course of the future. It looks at environmental design, alternative fuels, and simple day-to-day savings that can make a difference, becoming, in the end, an uplifting and empowering celebration of both human and environmental potential. Here is a film that will not only get people talking, but will hopefully also inspire them to start doing. Try to see past Leo, because it really is worth it.

Rating: 7.8

Interview with Nicholas Maksymow

2007-10-08T19:31:00.000-07:00

No film student worth their salt could deny Russia’s epic influence upon cinema history. It was here that montage techniques were first pioneered and refined, and it was here that some of film history’s greatest masterpieces were born. So many years and one iron curtain later, and Russia is again eager to reassert its position on the international cinema landscape. The 2007 Russian Film Festival Russian Revolution is a tribute to Russia’s fast growing cinema industry, and, this week, it makes its way into our part of the globe.

“Russia’s film production is increasing at an incredible rate!” exclaims the festival director, Nicholas Maksymow, “Firstly, there are lots of private bodies who provide funding for budding filmmakers, and if that does not work there is always the state funding board. What’s happening there now is similar to what the AFI did in the late seventies to revive the Australian film industry. There’s this strong, creative reenergising.”

Luckily, Russian filmmakers are also enjoying a lucrative success at the Russian box office. This year they are expected to retain over one quarter of the total national box office takings. “Unlike Australians, Russians don’t really experience that kind of ‘cultural cringe’,” explains Maksymow. “There really isn’t a pressure to be Western, because Russians are so proud of all their art and above all their cinema… Films like Daywatch and Nighwatch and Wolfhound are obviously Russian films trying to copy Hollywood, but there is still this unique ‘Russianness’ about them, and there’s no pressure to get rid of that. In fact, that’s why people seem to enjoy them so much.”

Maksymow connects this sense of “Russianness” with the Russian artistic drive to paint realistically complex pictures of daily life, that accurately scan the whole range of the emotional spectrum. “For instance, in one movie you might cry, you might laugh and you might feel scared,” he emphasises, “There is so much emotion going through one film and that’s what life is like in Russia at the moment, because it’s so unpredictable. In everyday life people go through both laughter and hardship, and Russian film is all about capturing that realistically.” At this point, he laughs about how the highest rating Australian film to have ever been screened in Russia was Lantana – a fact that he attributes to Lantana’s complex, realistic, and unquestionably dark, treatment of human emotions.

If there is one section of human life, though, from which Russian cinema steers clear, it is contemporary Russian politics. While the world reels in response to news about Russia’s (often brutal) censorship of political journalism, the film industry is safe in its detachment. Maksymow explains, “The journalists get into trouble because they’re overtly political, and trying to push a certain view, while cinema is still seen as a democratic form of the arts, in the sense that it’s not really political at all. Filmmaking doesn’t really touch sensitive political issues in Russia; it’s more about making fun of the old politicians and examining our past than looking at the contemporary situation.”

Cinema and politics therefore enjoy mutual support and respect in Russia, a phenomenon reflected by the fact that Vladimir Putin (the Russian first head of state to ever visit Australia) officially opened the festival in Sydney last week. Significantly, Putin’s visit to Australia (for the APEC summit) corresponds with the 200 year anniversary of Australia’s relationship with Russia. Maksymow ponders on how all these aspects work together to strengthen international cultural understandings, as he reflects, “While obviously our relations, and Putin’s visit, have been mainly political and economic… festivals like these fill in the cultural aspects… I believe that what we’re trying to do by having Russian film festivals in Australia is giving not only those of Russian heritage, but also Australian citizens, a chance to see something they would not usually see.”

Interview with Megan Spencer

2007-10-05T19:52:00.000-07:00

Megan Spencer is the perfect poster girl for GenerationX. She reifies pop-culture as a deity, she explodes with awe for those who dedicate their life to the cultivation of an obsession and she finds poetic beauty in the seemingly mundane. “Pop culture replaced our god,” she laughs, without a hint of irony. “It replaced our children and our mortgages – for a while, anyway. And pop culture, in a sense, has replaced art. I don’t mean to sound like a philistine but I guess I find the most artistic gratification and profound poetic experiences usually through pop culture.”

Certainly, as Spencer herself admits, it takes a significant dose of “crazy one-eyed fandom” to centralise an entire career around a love of cinema, which is exactly what she’s done. In fact, Spencer has skipped through the entire spectrum of Australia’s film industry – as a reviewer for both radio and television, as the artistic director of Perth’s own Revelation Film Festival, and as a filmmaker in her own right, specialising in a raw, ‘guerrilla style’ portraiture.

No prizes for guessing the kind of subjects that Spencer chooses for her own documentaries. So far, she has consistently focused upon exploring the lives of passionate, unique individuals devoted to their personal obsessions. From fanatical AFL supporters to professional dominatrixes, Spencer has no qualms about entering social spheres that are far removed from her own, and from the realities inhabited by most of her viewers. In her latest DVD release, Lovestruck: Wrestling’s #1 Fan, she tracks almost ten years in the life of Sue Chuster, Australia’s most devoted wrestling fan.

Chuster doesn’t fit the expected demographic of a wrestling fan, and yet she’s dedicated the last 35 years of her life to the sport, has travelled to America twice in hot pursuit of wrestling superstars, owns over 4000 wrestling DVDs and videos, and has plastered her house shift in a make-shift wallpaper composed of over 4000 wrestling photos. It would have been dangerously easy for Spencer to adopt a condescending or ridiculing perspective with this film, but instead she has injected it with a warm, heartfelt and emotionally sensitive tone.

“If it was a superficial look at her, then it could have been become that, but that was never my intention. I wouldn’t want to make a superficial film about anyone. And I was determined to dig deeper with Sue and hang in there until that deeper reason presented itself. She is a bit more of an extreme figure… But I admire the way people can take something that is seen as banal or everyday or of no cultural value and turn into something that has enormous value, even if it’s just personally to them. I think those sorts of stories are really valuable and really entertaining and really reflective of who we might actually be.”

Unfortunately, Spencer believes that the heartfelt honesty with which she represented Chuster is also the reason why she had so much trouble obtaining funding from broadcasters and public boards. In the end, Spencer was restricted to releasing her television-friendly fifty-minute film through DVD – a not entirely regrettable decision, because it did allow her the space to include over thirty minutes of special features.

“I think [broadcasters] are scared of real people, and of not presenting them in a controlled way,” she elaborates. “In parts of Lovestruck, sometimes the subject is making the film and I don’t put in any voice-overs telling you how to receive it or react. And I think we have a pretty generic, formulaic approach to television documentaries in this country. I am generalising [but many directors]… try to clean their films up, and they end up second guessing their audiences which is something I refuse to do and don’t need to do and don’t want to do, and if it keeps me on the margins then I’m happy to stay there.”

Away From Her

2007-09-30T19:49:00.000-07:00

Sarah Polley seems an unlikely candidate for the direction of a film about old age. Having began her film career as a child television actor, the sprightly 28 year-old Canadian has spent the rest of it skipping through various acting instalments – most notably her touching portrayal of a mother dying from cancer in My Life Without Me. Stepping behind the camera for the first time, Polley tackles surprisingly similar themes in Away From Her, but this time her focus has skipped backwards a generation. The main characters are in their sixties, and this time Alzheimer’s is the destructive force slowly erasing its victim. After a 44-year marriage, Grant (Gordon Pinsent) has to cope with the gradual mental dissent and institutionalisation of his suffering wife, the eccentric and beautiful Fiona (Julie Christie).

Based upon the short story “The Bear Came Over the Mountain,” Away From Her sounds simplistic when described on paper – and to a certain extent this initial judgement remains correct. Yet, though the drama may remain relatively straight forward, Polley effectively steers it away from all expected clichés and potentially maudlin developments through a series of subversive narrative turns. What’s more, this uncluttered narrative has obviously allowed Polley room to move. She has unearthed a rich complexity from the space between the lines, inscribing a multi-layered complexity upon every pause in the script.

And, in the end, the strength of Away From Her lies not in its thought-provoking dialogue or in its richly crafted characters, but in its visual impact. In the way that Christie’s face flickers elusively between recognition and confusion. In the soft edged pastels of Grant’s flashbacks, toned with nostalgia and regret. In the heart wrenching devotion with which he observes his wife from afar. And in the palpable distance that slowly wedges itself between them, like an invisible current subtly pulling them apart. These are the images that will remain with you days after seeing the film, infused with a seemingly unaltered emotional impact. This is a rare gem of a film, but please remember to bring tissues with you. Trust me.

Rating: 9.4

Superbad

2007-09-17T19:47:00.000-07:00

It’s hard not to be jealous of teenagers today. While we had clunky discmans and thick CD wallets, they have svelte iPods. While we were stuck with demure, wholesome Christina Aguilera, they enjoy racy Xtina. And while our age-defining comedy ‘classic’ was the painful American Pie, they are able to enjoy the genuine humour of Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg (part of the crew responsible for The 40 Year Old Virgin and Knocked Up). Superbad is everything a teenage comedy should be – it is immature without being simplistic, and it is offensive without being cringe-worthy. Rogen and Goldberg have obviously drawn upon their own high school experiences in carving the central characters, Seth (Jonah Hill) and Evan (Michael Cera, playing a somewhat more racy version of Geroge Michael from Arrested Development). Unpopular and generally disliked, Seth and Evan unexpectedly gain entrance into a ‘cool’ party when their nerdy friend Fogell (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) scores a fake ID. What begins a simple attempt to purchase alcohol, though, quickly descends into a night of unpredictable madness, involving jaded policemen, unexpected sexual encounters and dangerous gatecrashing. In a genre that suffers from its lack of originality, Superbad is a breath of fresh air, injecting a unique freshness into the well-worn teen themes of virginity, romance, alcohol, friendship and moving away. If you’re willing to suffer through a seemingly endless series of penis jokes (and one really terrible menstruation gag) then this movie will deliver genuine laughs, and also an unexpectedly touching sentiment.

Rating: 8.9

Strummer: The Future is Unwritten

2007-09-17T19:45:00.000-07:00

When Joe Strummer (the legendary front man of The Clash) passed away in 2002, his best friend, filmmaker and musician Julien Temple (of The Filth and the Fury), decided to immortalise Strummer’s life on celluloid with Strummer: The Future is Unwritten. If you’re looking for a film that exemplifies exactly how not to make a music documentary, then look no further. This is a perfect case in point. While it’s easy to understand why, it’s nonetheless disappointing that this film feels more like a eulogy than a documentary. Temple has gathered Strummer’s friends and associates around a campfire (a perplexing stylistic choice not explained before the film’s conclusion) and together they reminisce. These scattered reflections are largely sycophantic, and Temple clearly makes little attempt to paint a holistic portrait. Furthermore, for no apparent reason, none of the interviewees are identified, and so the patchwork of memories that they weave together feels more like a labyrinthine maze, made all the more confusing by the inclusion of token celebrities (Steve Buscemi, Johnny Depp, and, of course, Bono). This movie is long, repetitive, puzzling, self-indulgent and unyieldingly boring, which is a pity, because with some very simple clarifications, it could almost have been saved.

Rating: 3.8

The Bet

2007-09-17T19:42:00.000-07:00

“A broker. A banker. A bet.”

This tagline essentially summarises everything you need to know about the latest, privately financed, film from director Mark Lee (Gallipolli). You won’t gleam much more from actually watching it. Matthew Newton (Looking for Allibrandi, and, more famously, Bert Newton’s Son) is the boyish-faced stockbroker from a working class background, Aden Young (Black Robe) his the cocky, affluent banker friend, and their bet is a 90 day race to see who can be the first to earn $100 000. And, yes, it’s refreshing that while most Australian films relish our country’s lost youths and our suburban misery, this one should jump into our upper class, where the characters play golf, buy diamonds and know exactly what they want out of life. It’s very possible that this film could have been intriguing insight into Australia’s fast paced stock market world, or a riveting financial thriller to rival Boiler Room, or its closest Australian counterpart, The Bank. Unfortunately, though, this film suffers from an irrational intensity, compounded by its percussive soundtrack, weighted dialogue and unnecessarily prologued close-ups. Additionally, while Neweton’s broker does occasionally elicit flickers of empathy, the other character characters (in particular Young’s banker, Angus) are infuriatingly shallow. These characters are one-dimensional ciphers, existing merely to propel the heavy-handed narrative.

Rating: 4.2

Russian Film Festival Reviews

2007-09-10T19:37:00.000-07:00

This week, for the first time in Perth, Cinema Paradiso will host the Russian Film Festival, Russian Resurrection. One film enjoying its world-wide premier as part of this festival is Vitali Melnikov’s Beat the Enemy. Set in the waning months of the Second World War, this film charts a communist propaganda group, hastily assembled from mismatched exiles and actors, as it travels down a remote Siberian river. Stopping at various isolated communities, the group’s task is to glorify Soviet military feats through an eclectic fusion of song, dance, music, theatre, art and silent film. What begins as a seemingly simplistic narrative quickly develops into a rich tapestry of wildly variable encounters and gradually shifting relationships, that all come to a head when the team’s vessel floods, and they find themselves isolated on one of the river’s sparsely populated islands.

Whether they be propaganda projects or powerful post-war reflections, Russia has always been renowned for its war films, and for its treatment of wartime themes. While not set on the frontline, Beat the Enemy is a powerful and appropriately complex exploration of the war’s impact in Russia, and of this tremulous transition period in Russian history. By introducing so many varied local communities, the films scans the whole register of emotional responses – from the devoted Communist youth leader who barks orders at her inferiors and cries over the propaganda footage, to the old woman forced to saw the crucifix off her local chapel as it becomes a Communist ‘activities’ hall,’ to the German exiles suspended in limbo between two identities. But what truly rescues this film from mediocrity is the complex development of its five main characters. These characters shift unpredictably as the narrative progressions, and, even though this results in a far less concise narrative, their rapid mood swings are indulged and given full reign. The result is a film that is touchingly realistic, and thought-provoking in its density. Produced in grey tones and adhering to all classic conventions, this is no cinematic marvel, but it is an intriguing character study, tinted with an emotional variety that marks it as uniquely Russian.

Far less successful is Heat, Russia’s miserable attempt at romantic comedy. Set in the midst of a stifling Russian heat wave, this film sees four school friends reunite several years after graduation. These men are clearly meant to symbolise a cross-section of Russian society, with the navy boy, spoilt rich kid, aspiring actor and black ‘gansta’ all represented. This mix of characters feels painfully contrived, and the narrative developments seem to only emphasise this self-consciousness. This feels like a film that is desperately trying to represent modern Moscow as a space that is “Western-yet-still-distinctly-Russian,” but its desperation to do so results in it failing miserably, both as a tourism advertisement and as a film.

The narrative itself is wildly ridiculous, and not even in a pleasingly post-modern or seductively surrealist manner. It’s just plain silly. Somehow, all the characters end up going their separate ways and finding themselves on madcap, screwball adventures that transport them alternately through prison cells, nightclubs, penthouses, film sets, construction sites, mafia meetings and underpasses guarded by violent street gangs, where they alternately encounter romance, career development, violence and party. To make matters worse, this narrative is portrayed in the clumsiest, messiest manner imaginable. The varying sub-plots are confusingly interwoven so that it’s difficult to tell what is what and who is who, reducing the film to a convoluted mass of unbelievable city encounters. It’s impossible to make sense of this chaotic offering, and one hopes that this film reached number one at the Russian Box Office only because the same people saw it repeatedly, in the hope of uncovering some semblance of meaning.

Beat the Enemy: 6.5
Heat: 2.0

Interview with Nicholas Maksymow

2007-09-09T19:36:00.000-07:00

Interview with Anna Broinowski

2007-09-09T19:28:00.000-07:00

Out of the often overwhelming mass of documentary genre clones and failed attempts at objectivity, there rises one, recent, unique offering. From director Anna Broinowski, Forbidden Lie$ explores the controversy surrounding Norma Khouri, the international best-selling author of an autobiographical novel about Jordanian honour killings, who was later exposed as a fraud and a con-artist. Rather than simply forcing one perspective or opinion upon her audiences, Broinowski plays with the notion of truth, spin and fact, encouraging viewers to question the film they are watching as much as they question Khouri herself.

“I think that people who say that documentary filmmaking is the most truthful form of filmmaking are not correct,” Broinowski asserts, “I think that the minute you point your camera at someone, whether it’s a drama or a doco, you are shaping reality… Every decision is personal, and it’s all about your opinion of the subject. I was keen to explore that in the film, and Norma’s tendency to deceive people became the perfect springboard for me to mirror stylistically what she does to people’s minds.” Drawing more inspiration from con movies like Catch Me If You Can and Ocean’s 11 than from the well worn conventions of documentary filmmaking, Forbidden Lie$ is peppered with CGI, fast paced cinematography, snappy cutaways and dramatic re-enactments.

The dramatic impact of the film is certainly enhanced by the fact that all Broinowski’s interview subjects presented such animated testimonies that they feel almost staged. “None of them were scripted, and I too was gob smacked,” she remembers, “I just couldn’t believe my luck when this high-up lawyer in Chicago said to me, point blank, to the camera, having just met me, ‘She is evil and diabolical.’ I think it wasn’t so much good fortune, but the fact that Norma polarises people around her, so you can’t have a mediocre response to her. So it was delightful, because everyone was passionate about her, whether for or against. And I was like a kid in a toy store, because I had this cast like something from a thriller, and the only difference was that they were real.”

Like many of the people she interviewed, including sophisticated minds in media, publishing and law, Broinowski was also not immune to the charm of this sweet talking woman. She describes herself as initially being a “Norma convert,” and remembers how her initial vision for the film was one that would redeem Khouri, and prove the media’s negative spin on her to be entirely incorrect. “Norma is so likeable you really want to believe that she’s no where near as cunning or as diabolical as these crimes that she’s done would make her out to be,” Broinowski stresses, “She’s really audacious, she’s feisty, and she has a strong spirit. In many ways she’s a post-feminist icon… and you can’t help but admire that. And how do you marry that up with the fact that she tricked an old woman out of her life savings and her home?”

Naturally, this vision had to shift, as promised evidence and interview subjects disappeared, and Khouri’s story became more and more tangled. Broinwoski insists though, that this film shouldn’t be about judging Khouri, so much as about judging the system in which we live, that allows people like her to thrive. “The film’s message is ‘trust no one, believe no one, question everything, corroborate everything’,” she concludes. “I think that we have lost contact with the importance of truth. As a society, we have become so cynical that we know longer care about the fact that we’re being spun to by the media and by politicians. We need to fight again, to make truth and facts and investigation important once more.”

The Jammed

2007-09-05T19:20:00.000-07:00

These past few years have seen Australian cinema grow darker than ever before, boldly exposing our cities’ dark underbellies, and fearlessly diving into the previously unexplored or unacknowledged echelons of our society. Inspired by true events, The Jammed is another Australian release that treads where no other films have tread before; exploding into the violent reality of Melbourne’s sex trafficking industry. Director Dee McLachlan cleverly juxtaposes two vastly different worlds by interweaving the story of Ashley (Veronica Sywak), a restless, middle class, insurance company employee, with the story of Crystal (Emma Lung), a recently arrested, Indonesian sex slave about to be dumped in a detention centre because of her expired visa papers. These two worlds collide when Ashley finds herself reluctantly assisting Sunnee (Amanda Ma), a Chinese woman on a desperate search to locate her missing daughter, who they soon learn is now a sex slave working alongside Crystal.

Interestingly, The Jammed was rescued from obscurity only because of the wildly positive reaction it provoked during its (extremely limited) initial release. Some of these reactions do seem excessive, as the film is far from perfect. Its exposition suffers from uneven chronological jumps and generally stilted dialogue and performances. Both the plot and the actors actually take quite a while to warm up, significantly affecting the story’s emotional impact. Even when the film eventually eases into a more natural rhythm, it does tend to dip into unrealistic action sequences and to falter under the weight of a very distracting, overly sentimental score. At the same time, though, there are some brilliant performances in this film (the stand-out being Saskia Burmeister, who is virtually unrecognisable as the Russian prostitute, Vanya,) and the story itself, while perhaps a little convenient, is also admittedly enthralling. Moreover, with Australia listed as the tenth main destination for sex traffic victims, this is a particularly relevant film, and you can’t help but admire McLachlan’s gutsy attempt to highlight this issue. Even though this is not brilliant cinema, this is one of those films with a story that is truly worth telling.

Rating: 8.9

The White Planet

2007-09-05T19:17:00.000-07:00

With the world going documentary-crazy, never before have we seen so many entirely average efforts somehow worming their way onto the silver screen. One such example is Canada’s The White Planet; a celluloid postcard from Antarctica. This film’s footage is undeniably brilliant, stitching together intimate animal close-ups, sweeping aerial pans and magical underwater visions. It simultaneously captures the breath-taking spectacle of the continent, and the delicate vulnerability of the creatures that inhabit it. Yes, this documentary is indeed a picturesque insight into an ecosystem that may not be around for much longer (thanks to the impact of climate change and human intervention), but none of these factors alone seem to warrant the film’s feature length, and its widespread cinema release.

Ignoring for a moment the fact that surely any half-decent filmmaker could obtain amazing footage in a context as inspiring as Antarctica, The White Planet also has one significant drawback; its monotonous, and greatly irritating, narration. Its only purpose seems to be to point out that which is already quite obvious or to add an unnecessarily pretentious edge to the proceedings (apparently walruses now “philosophically await the return of the ice” and sturgeons “exude joie de vivre”). In the meantime, bizarre natural phenomena are captured onscreen but never explained, new species are shown but not introduced, and the jumble of varying footage seems to often lack any sort of strong cohesion or connection. Furthermore, despite being largely advertised as a film about global warming, the narration skirts only over the surface of these issues. Some films are best reserved for television or DVD release; and The White Planet is worth seeing only for the occasional (and undeniably adorable) baby polar bear, or in order to celebrate its carbon neutral distribution.

Rating: 2.5

Dr Plonk, Once, Shut Up and Sing

2007-09-03T19:12:00.000-07:00

With each new film he makes, Australian director Rolf de Heer seems to surprise his audience just a little bit more. Now, during a time when everyone around him seems to be pushing the boundaries of cinema potential, he ploughs backwards through film history to the days of silent comedy. Set in 1907, Dr Plonk is a slapstick romp (reminiscent of Buster Keaton or Charlie Chaplin) that tracks the efforts of scientist/inventor Dr Plonk, as he attempts to prove his theory that the world will end in 101 years time by developing a time machine in order to travel there. While De Heer’s effort to reconstruct the feel of silent film reel is commendable (it was actually a complex process combining old technology with extensive digital post-production), the narrative is unfortunately just as dull as it sounds. Slapstick routines haven’t gotten any funnier than they were to begin with, and while this film will illicit a few laughs here and there, it’s not particularly clever or memorable humour. At best, this film will offer a pleasing amusement for those who enjoy (or nostalgically recall) the slapstick comedy of silent film. At worst, this film could be described as a pallid, two dimensional effort from a director who has previously always hit the spot. Perhaps de Heer should stay away from movies that demand a more overt humour.

Director John Carney always dreamt of making a film that, while bypassing the stale conventions of a traditional musical, would still utilise songs in order to tell a “very modern, very simple love story.” The result is Once, a simple, low budget effort, set in modern Dublin, where a heartbroken busker (Glen Hansard) meets a spirited Czech migrant (Marketa Irglova), and the two fall in love over shared duets and broken vacuum cleaners. With only sixty pages of dialogue, music envelopes practically ever visual gesture in this film, infusing it with a deeper, more intangible emotional quality. Where one would usually find trite romantic dialogue or stifled exchanges, there are instead naturally occurring songs that speak volumes about the gradually developing relationship without the need for tired clichés. Strangely, there is no particularly direct narrative correlation between (most of) the lyrics on the soundtrack and the script itself, yet both share the same musical texture, emotive tone and intimate personal voice. While at times this film digresses onto unbelievable territory (look out for the singing banker, and the slightly overdone recording studio montage), it is redeemed by this indescribable magical quality. The combined impact of Hansard’s composition, the simple cinematography and the actors’ touching sincerity is, quite frankly, monumental.

During a time when documentary has become the new black, Shut Up and Sing stands out because it is harder to classify than your average, being neither strictly political nor strictly musical. It focuses upon the journey of the Dixie Chicks since 2003, when their lead singer spoke out against George Bush’s War on Iraq, and the group became the instant victim of Republican outcry. Unfortunately, the film’s shifting focus, while arguably its most defining feature, is also its most irritating. The film jumps through chronology, skipping from 2003 to 2006 (when the Dixie Chicks are working on their comeback album). Not only do these jumps in time feel awkward and forced, but the contrast in footage is also quite significant. While the scenes from 2003 are compellingly action packed, those set in 2006 focus upon the “personal triumph” of the band (looking at emotions, relationships and so on), and are, ultimately, quite dull and lacklustre. As the film nears its end, it increasingly focuses upon celebrating this personal strength, much to the film’s detriment. Rather than tapping its potential to explore issues of democracy and freedom of speech, the filmmaker has opted to produce yet another story of inspiration and personal struggle. While this may all be indeed quite affecting, it’s hard not to feel a little cheated after the promising potential of the film’s seemingly fresh trailer.

Dr Plonk: 1.5
Once: 9.5
Shut Up and Sing: 6.0

Interview with Glen Hansard

2007-08-26T19:09:00.000-07:00

When we meet, Glen Hansard is looking a little battleworn. His hands alternate between rubbing his eyes open and, almost nervously, fiddling with a grey pick, which he twirls through his calloused fingers with acrobatic ease, and occasionally taps against the bench. “To be honest, I’m almost missing all this success, because I am so busy,” he sighs, looking suddenly even more exhausted. “This is not a complaint, but I need to take a break just to get some perspective. Perspective is important, both with great success and great failure. Also, they say that if you don’t take time to celebrate when your ship comes in, it’s just another day at the office.”

Hansard certainly does have cause to celebrate recently. After seventeen years of leading Irish independent band, The Frames, he’s receiving a new kind of media attention. As the lead actor in Once, a touching romance/drama about a Dublin busker who falls in love with a Czech migrant, both his musical and personal profile have received a welcome bolster. This comes just in time for a current tour with Bob Dylan, and the release of his band’s new album, The Cost, a beautifully emotion recording which includes several songs featured in the film.

“The movie was just a three week bit of fun with some friends, and it never had any significance at all to my career, except now it does,” he reflects, sounding almost a little shocked by his own success. “Now, this film has brought us a huge amount of new audience. In an ideal world, you’d hope that you could write a song and people would respond to it in a certain way, but the world isn’t that simple and the media really doesn’t hasn’t had much to say about us in a while. There is no ‘myth,’ if you like… And now, we haven’t done anything different to how we’ve always done it, but there’s this film, and sometimes people just need something like that to latch onto. And this has just brought a whole new wave of energy around the band. It’s definitely reenergised the audience, which has in turn reenergised the band.”

Initially, Hansard’s role in Once was not as high-profile. Working with director and ex-band member John Carney, he was to produce a set of songs in concurrence with the script. For Hansard, working under Carney’s direction was an unusual power reversal. “I was working on his project, whereas before [in The Frames] he’d always been working on mine,” he explains, “It was such a perspective shift, having to ultimately adhere to John’s vision, and also such a good thing. When you spend a long time being the one who makes the art, you tend to get that ‘I’m right’ attitude happening a lot, so it is good to work on someone else’s art and, even if you don’t agree, they will say ‘well, this is me vision,’ and that’s that.”

Hansard’s role shifted dramatically, though, when Cillian Murphy (arguably a dubious casting choice) pulled out of his role as the lead actor. Given Hansard’s strong connection to the main character, it was suggested that he fill those shoes. “I honestly didn’t feel that comfortable about it,” Hansard confesses, looking slightly awkward, “But John just said, ‘Trust me, I will get a good performance out of you.’ And all I asked was that he promise to fire me if he had to, because I don’t want to be in a shit film. All he said was, ‘I won’t let you be.’ So that was the deal we all struck with each other. In the end, I wasn’t acting very much… John just kept on saying, ‘stop acting, and pull back a bit more.’ Sometimes I would really stop acting altogether and just read the lines and he would say, ‘Now that’s perfect.’ He just wanted us to be ourselves.”

As Murphy departed though, so did the producer and the film’s financing. “We had no lead and no money,” Hansard remembers, “We had to convince all the crew to work for free, meself and Mar [Irglova, the lead actress] worked for free, and we made the film in seventeen days as that was all the crew could give us.” Overnight, Once had become a project financed entirely by love, a factor which definitely shines through the final product. Suddenly, several sharp cost cuts were made; the Dublin scenes were filmed on long lenses without official permits, the musical recordings were done in Hansard’s bedroom rather than in a studio, and the entire film was shot on HD instead of on the intended 16mm film stock.

“It felt really good, though,” Hansard emphasises, “If you’re doing something like this where everyone is working for free – and I’ve been in this situation with my band many times before – you have to get as much out of these people as possible, so there’s a high energy. We were knocking out about four or five scenes a day.”

Perhaps this is the reason why the film feels so natural and organic; although that may also be attributed to the fact that so much of the film was improvised. Hansard clarifies, “What I love most about music is doing it live, when it’s all in the moment, and everything is real and happening right there, so that, when you fuck up, it’s almost part of the beauty of the performance. That’s what a performance is – imperfect…. And I think John understood that really well, that it had to be improvised in order for it to be enjoyable. A lot of directors are really precious about their dialogue, but John said, ‘If you can find a better way to get to that same point, you should do it.’” Naturally, the fact that Hansard is essentially playing himself, and that he is now actually romantically involved Irglova (this is the one point in the conversation during which he looks significantly more awake), helped infuse that improvisation with a poignant sense of reality.

For Hansard though, it seems that Once is about more than the love between two people. “John described the movie as a ‘love song for Ireland’ – but it kind of depicts a Dublin of about fifteen years ago. I mean, it’s all shot on the streets of Dublin now and with no extras, but Dublin now, like Australia, is full of wine bars and cappuccino cafes now, and we’ve got all the high-end designer clothes shops and people are driving around in Range Rovers flaunting their wealth. What we wanted to do was make a film about Ireland before that happened. Also, the Irish were once famous for their friendly welcome… but when we had to deal with immigration we became quite cruel and quite the opposite. My character in the film actually just represents older Ireland, the guy who just accepts the girl, and likes her for who she is, while there’s no real talk about her past and her Czech history or her poverty.”

Significantly, Once did not receive a raving response upon its release in Ireland. (“Irish people don’t see Irish films,” Hansard explains.) Perhaps this is the reason why Hansard, believing the film would never be successful enough to actually warrant a soundtrack, decided to go ahead and record the film’s songs on a separate album, together with Irglova. “We ended up making this record called The Swell Season, which was just a basically an album of the songs from Once,” he reflects, and then laughs, once more recalling that now familiar tone of disbelief, with which he adds, “We figured Once would never be seen by anybody.”

Interview with Tony Ayres

2007-08-20T11:55:00.000-07:00

Tony Ayres, the enthusiastic writer/director of Home Song Stories, seems unusually jumping for a weekday breakfast. He speaks at an accelerated pace, as if riding aboard a morning wave of caffeine, or (more likely) simply bursting with ideas and feelings regarding his latest cinematic effort. It comes as no surprise that Ayres has so much to say. After all, Home Song Stories is a film about his own childhood experiences and about a difficult time when, just after his family’s move from China to Australia, his mother’s lifestyle escalated out of control.

“Personally, this was obviously a set of events that shaped my life and profoundly moved me,” he explains happily, obviously now quite used to discussing this difficult past, “As a starting point, as a filmmaker, you have to be affected by your own story. The challenge of making the movie was about taking this profound event, which seems very powerful to me, and turning it into something that would also affect others. I also find it so fascinating how, when you have something that comes from the truth, you can kind of bend the story out of shape. It gives you a bit of tolerance, in terms of the way in which it fits in, because real life doesn’t fit into conventional narrative.”

While certainly not revolutionary, the narrative of Home Song Stories does indeed twist its way through time in an imaginative fashion. This is a chronological collage of memories, viewed through a child’s perspective, but retold and collated by the adult version of that child (based on Ayres himself), who makes fleeting appearances in brief cut-aways and voice-overs. Seen typing the story onto his computer, he is obviously, like Ayres, in search of catharsis. “I was trying to emphasise that the film is being told from later,” Ayres comments, “If there is a theme to the film, it is about a little boy falling out of love with his mother because of her behaviour, and trying to, as an adult, revisit that behaviour and try and find a sense of forgiveness.”

As eager as he is to discuss his mother, Ayres seems taken aback when I steer conversation towards his representation of women. “I think that in terms of her representation there is a truth to her character, which I know to be true because my mother experienced it, but there was definitely no underlying political thesis,” he stresses, “I think that if you want a film to resonate with your audience, you have to find a contradictory truth. If you want to communicate a thesis, you’re better off writing it. I wasn’t making the film as a statement about women, or about the Asian diaspora, or Chinese representations.”

Alive with contradiction, complexity and humanity, Home Song Stories is without question far removed from the predictability of dogmatic cinema. While Ayres still seems weary about accidentally suggesting that his film belongs in such a category, he does add that his film’s very existence reflects a huge shift in attitudes from the 1970s in which it is set. “When the population changes, inevitably more stories like mine will be told, and they will hopefully provide a human face to these diaspora stories,” he suggests, “There will be more stories like Romulus My Father, or Clubland. Those are three stories all about mothers, and all about migrants, and they’ve all come out this year. That’s a reflection of our shifting culture.”

We can only hope that, as our culture continues to shift, it will also continue to reveal more precious tales such as this one, concerned as they are with capturing poignantly subjective memories rather than with pushing trite political agendas. This film makes a perfect addition our ever-expanding treasure trove of recently uncovered Australian stories.

Home Song Stories

2007-08-20T11:53:00.000-07:00

As the AFI awards draw ever closer, Australian films begin attracting more and more attention to themselves, and the latest horse out of the gates is Home Song Stories. Based upon the true childhood experiences of writer/director Tony Ayres, this film is essentially comprised of the memories of Tom (Joel Lok), who, as a young boy, found himself growing increasingly disenchanted by his unstable, slowly disintegrating mother, Rose. Brought to life by the formidable Chinese starlet Joan Chen (best known to Westerners as Josie from Twin Peaks), Rose is a veritable fire-cracker of a woman, shifting violently through partners and plans, exploding without warning and dragging the torn remnants of her family behind her. She is utterly unsympathetic, but also completely intoxicating, enlivening the film with her fiery temperament.

Ayres’ attention to detail in this film is nothing short of sublime. Reconstructed from his personal photo collection, the set and costume design instantly draw audiences into his 1960s reality. The soundscape is equally fascinating, with every background sound, from the slightest bird chirp to the loudest car engine, clearly polished to perfection. Ayres himself has commented upon how the sound detail was designed to reflect the way in which memories capture only particular sounds, while entirely disregarding others, and, once you notice this, it is extremely effective. The narrative core, however, is not quite as imaginative, and, though it may seem facile to say this about a true story, rather repetitive. Ayres’ use of flashbacks and dream sequences does little to revive the story’s flavour, and in fact seem rather at odds with the rest of the film’s style. Nonetheless, Ayres’ ability to cloak the entire film in an appropriately childish honesty is commendable, and does provide a layer of complex contradiction which cancels out the story’s tendency to lag. Furthermore, Chen alone is a pleasure to watch, as she maintains the film’s energy levels throughout and vigorously drives the narrative towards its powerful conclusion.

Rating: 8.6

The Boyton Beach Club

2007-08-19T22:41:00.000-07:00

The Boyton Beach Club will not suit all tastes. Easy to enjoy, but difficult to rave about, it is well suited to those of a tranquil disposition who are easily amused by gently predictable humour. From director Susan Seidelmer (Desperately Seeking Susan), this is not a particularly ambitious project, but a simple story about the intriguing relationships that develop between a group of widowed senior citizens, united by their weekly participation in the Boyton Beach Club’s “bereavement group.” Here, the angsty Marilyn (Brenda Vaccaro) befriends the vivacious, lipo-suctioned Louis (Dyan Cannon), while the grieving Harry (Joseph Bologna) slowly re-enters the dating world with Sandy (Sally Kellermen). There is a certain spiritedness to these, and all, the relationships portrayed, enhanced by the fact that each of the actors’ injects their character with a significant dose of youthful energy.

Indeed, this film’s most endearing feature is the bizarre way in which it seems to, in many ways, mirror an American teen movie. There are social alliances, girly gossip sessions, first dates, penis jokes and “first time”-esque sexual anxieties, and there is even a prom at the end of it all. The unfortunate by-product of this, though, is the fact that the film manages to remain utterly devoid of any remotely poignant commentary about the aging process. Instead, it’s just another movie about twisted relationships and the difficulties involved in getting them up and running (in more ways than one, nudge nudge). Essentially, it’s a pretty empty film and, if it weren’t for the fact that there are no cast members under 55, it would instantly slide into obscurity. It’s one to file just above the irritatingly slow On a Clear Day, but quite a far way below the memorably effervescent (and actually genuinely touching) Calender Girls.

Rating: 5.5

I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry

2007-08-12T23:43:00.001-07:00

Imagine the worst possible form of celluloid torture. Imagine tasteless, dated stereotypes mixed with the most basic, lowest-common-denominator type of humour. Imagine two hours of cringe-worthy dialogue that will leave you confused as to why the cinema is actually alive with scattered laughter (is Australia really that stupid?). We’ve all seen these kinds of movies before; their mind numbing plot twists and their flinch-inspiring jokes are painful in their eerie familiarity. These are the kind of movies that inspire people to leave cinemas before their conclusions, and occasionally result in moderately amusing conversation starters. I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry is the quintessential example of this type of cinema.

From its introduction, this film’s tone is inscribed clearly into every shred of dialogue, every plot ‘development’ and every new character. The tone is one of painful, base humour, and ridiculously overused (and often very dated) stereotypes - exemplified right from the kick-off, with the ‘typical’ “bodacious female twins make out for the pleasure of the male protagonist” opening scene. From there, the concept is that Chuck (Adam Sandler) and Larry (Kevin James), two uber-heterosexual firemen, must feign homosexuality in order to obtain a gay marriage and thus ensure that the children of the recently-widowed Larry would be protected, were he to die as part of his particularly dangerous day job.

This is a film with its heart in the right place – but these good intentions are heavily misguided. While the film attempts to dress up its conclusion in pride symbols and pro-equality rhetoric, the very fact that Chuck and Larry are actually straight really does make a mockery out of the concept of same-sex marriage. Why on earth would the gay community be so supportive of two people who are abusing, and essentially ridiculing, the rights that they have worked so hard for? The film seems to completely ignore this gaping contradiction. Furthermore, every single gay cast member is a flat and predictable cliché, and homosexuals aren’t the only ones to suffer from what could only be described as a ‘pre-pubescent’ sense of humour. Obese people, Eastern Europeans, the homeless and (especially) Asians are all tarnished with the same brush in this film. Let’s just say that I would rather adopt a false sexual identity for the rest of my life than sit through this piece of tripe again.

Rating: 2.0

Die Hard 4.0

2007-08-12T22:44:00.000-07:00

Thanks to that recognisable quality of heart and humour, the Die Hard franchise has become perhaps one of the most well-respected amongst the action genre today. In Die Hard 4.0, as in the movie’s predecessors, loveable trademarks are yet again present. The movie has once more captured Bruce Willis’ pleasingly believable flinching, his endearing mid-violence commentary, and a sense of the ridiculous mixed with the gritty. In a distinctly post-9/11 ‘virtual terrorist’ landscape, this time McClane (Willis) battles against an enemy he can’t see; a group working to bring down the American infrastructure from within its computer networks, by systematically shutting down everything that the nation has come to rely on (electricity, connectivity, economy and all emergency services). In other words, they are initiating a “fire sale,“ where “everything must go.”

Along the way, the villains call upon every ignorant computer geek they can find, positioning them as pawns or distractions within the grand plan. This is how McClane finds himself accompanied by the computer-savvy Matthew Farrell (Justin Long) – a talkative nerd almost as endearing as McClane himself. Together, they are an odd pairing but have a strangely appealing chemistry that propels the movie and provides relief from the occasionally excessive action sequences (watch out for car/plane and fighter jet/truck face-offs). Though, then again, to complain of Die Hard being excessive is to entirely miss its point. While this movie may at times be so ridiculous it will cause you to laugh rather than to flinch, this has always been the case with the series. In a way, this outrageousness (sprinkled with heart, humour and grittiness) has always been one of the features responsible for rendering the series so distinctly accessible. And we should all be relieved by the fact that these familiar qualities remain just as fresh, exciting and enjoyable as they were four films ago.

Rating: 7.9

Interview with Rolf de Heer

2007-08-10T19:08:00.000-07:00

Rolf de Heer has never been one to linger on the lighter side of life. With a portfolio that encompasses Bad Boy Bubby, Alexandria’s Project and, most recently, Ten Canoes, de Heer has always layered his projects in heavy themes or politically charged messages. His latest directorial effort, however, symbolises a break in this pattern. Dr Plonk, a black and white silent film about a mad scientist, is a light-hearted comedic romp through time and through genre. There is nothing serious about this film; Dr Plonk merely offers audiences an excuse to laugh at some traditional slapstick humour.

The natural lightness of this film makes it remarkably easy to digest, and there is an accompanying sense that the entire production process was similarly organic. Indeed, de Heer describes the creative process as “a series of lightbulb moments.” He was first struck by the concept of silent film after stumbling across some old, unused film stick in his office fridge during the post-production of Ten Canoes. Then, barely an hour later, he recalled local street performer, Nigel Lunghi, who he’d seen busking in the Adelaide city streets, realising that he would be ideal for the role of the main character. “These things are very peculiar in how they happen. Often they don’t happen so quickly, but in this case they did,” he remembers, “I [found that film stock] and it was old and out of date and useless for anything, but in that moment I saw unspool in front of my eyes, in all its likely imperfections; silent black and white comedy. And in that moment, what was probably just two or three seconds, I went ‘Ha! I know what we’re doing next.’”

Casting a street performer rather than an actor would seem a risk to any conventional director, but de Heer rightly insists that he made the correct choice. “He has great physical skills, and he was the first person who I thought of when I thought of the film,” de Heer explains, “I thought, ‘I will use him somehow,’ and the character was formed once he was cast.” Additionally, Lunghi brought a whole range of physical skills to the set, which ideally complimented the acting prowess of Paul Blackwell and Magda Szubanski in supporting roles. De Heer confirms, “All three of them are quite different in the way they approach things, but in terms of character that worked and they were really able to help each other. Magda would suggest something and then Paul would take that further and then Nigel would suggest something out of left field. And it was a really great process, just collaborating with actors to get to where we got to.”

A greater challenge would be injecting contemporary relevance into a form that does feel quite archaic, although de Heer insists that comedy transcends history. “Anything that makes me laugh, does not feel dated,” he stresses, “You get some romantic dramas from that time and they do feel dated, because the attitudes are so different and so sentimental. But the comedies are composed of classic comedic routines, and these make people laugh then, and still do now.”

De Heer then adds the point that silent film is not necessarily a “dated” form for all Australia’s cinema-goers. He emphasises the film’s success at Brisbane’s recent film festival, where it screened for an audience of school children. “At the end of the film there was a ‘Q&A’ and they started asking why nobody had talked in it,” he recalls, “And I realised that they had no history or knowledge of silent films, and so what I had to do was basically explain the history of film… I had made something that was completely new to them.” Perhaps cinema, like fashion, can only ever decorate recycled tropes, offering these as new products to generations who missed them the last time. Perhaps Dr Plonk really is to cinema what high waisted skirts are to fashion, except with more title cards.

2007-08-04T22:48:00.000-07:00

In what could be seen as a reply to the saccharine sweet (but oh-so-enjoyable) Paris, Je t’Aime, comes Inside Paris (Dans Paris), another film about relationships in the ‘city of love,’ but with a far rawer, and far more emotionally affecting, perspective. It opens with a series of twisting scenes depicting a disintegrating relationship. Capturing moments of aggression, heartbreak, thoughtfulness and regret, these scenes contort notions of reality in such a manner that audience members have no choice but to resign themselves entirely to the film’s relentless force and the confused nature of its storyline (and thus the confused nature of the protagonist’s mind.) This section forms a prelude to the remainder of the film, in which we see the main character Paul (Louis Garrel) leaves his girlfriend to live with his well meaning but confused father (Guy Marchland) and his hedonistic brother (Louis Garrel,) where he begins his journey out of depression.

The critics are celebrating Christophe Honore’s film for its distinctly “unpretentious” nature – if anything, this film is absolutely pretentious, and its jazzy soundtrack, poignant dialogue and twisting narrative attest to this. This, however, is not necessarily a bad thing, because this film’s pretentiousness nature is what gives it that distinctly French charm, without at all subtracting from the complexity of the characters and their healing processes. This film remains a thought provoking dive into the heart of depression, where anger, apathy and anxiety fight for dominance, and its pretentious sheen does in no way affect the film’s power to enthral and intrigue.

Rating: 7.0

This is England

2007-08-04T18:25:00.000-07:00

Like so many films out there, This is England is another fine lesson in “don’t judge a movie by its promotional material.” The fliers will tell you that this is another ‘rite of passage’ classic, in which a young boy learns that 'violence is the coward’s answer,' while the trailer plays up the film’s isolated moments of heart-wrenching pathos, as if the entire film were focused solely upon the plight of its 12-year-old protagonist, Shaun (played to perfection by newcomer Thomas Tugroose.) In fact, Shaun is but a lens through which the audience is invited to view a far larger and more widespread predicament. From the start, he is a mere pawn in someone else’s toxic game play.

From its opening credits (a collage of authentic news footage), this autobiographical effort leaves no question of context unanswered. This is England is firmly rooted in the midst of Margaret Thatcher’s debilitating regime, during a time rife with hostility, racism, mass unemployment, xenophobia and lingering bitterness about the Falklands controversy. It is in this anxiety-ridden context that we meet Shaun; a scruffy, bullied adolescent struggling to cope with the recent death of his father. On his way home from school one day, the desperate Shaun is rescued by Woody (Joseph Gilgun), a skinhead with good intentions, and thus Shaun finds himself drawn into a world of shaved heads, Ben Sherman shirts, suspenders, Doc Martens, and much older girlfriends (in what is a bizarre but intriguing exploration of pre-pubescent sexuality.) The trouble begins when a much older member of the gang (Stephen Graham) is released from prison, and Shaun, vulnerable and naïve, is ideal prey for his hard edged, overtly racist preaching.

Shaun is the narrative’s catalyst, but in no way is he its central focus. Rather, this film is more of a portrait of the times. It at once conveys the passionate spirit and crushing desperation of the time, (a roughed up version of Degrassi High?), while simultaneously capturing all the period’s complexities; shifting notions of masculinity, the irreconcilable clash between racism and nationalism, and, yes, the complexity of growing up in a country so deflated by its own desperation. There are unnecessarily sappy moments within this film (the overtly emotional musical score is at times at odds with the hard-edged narrative, and some of the nationalist spiels are accompanied by cringe-worthy montages), but, on the whole, this is a deeply moving and highly powerful film. Arguably, this is Shane Meadow’s most mature, and most successful, cinema effort yet.

Rating: 8.0

The Simpsons Movie, Sicko, The US vs John Lennon

2007-07-31T00:41:00.000-07:00

If ever there was a film that entirely satisfied expectations, that film would be The Simpsons Movie. If ever there was a film that totally evaded the (very real) threat of potential disaster, that film would be The Simpsons Movie. If ever there was a film that did not dare to inch at all beyond expectations, to push the envelope or to surprise, that film would be The Simpsons Movie. After twenty years, eighteen seasons and 400 episodes, this film brings nothing new to The Simpsons franchise, but it would be silly to suggest that this is in any way disappointing. After all, the movie does offer a fleshed-out insight into something warmly familiar. The plot development is much stronger than your average episode, and, once the usual digressions are disposed of, there’s a very pleasing, if predictable, narrative arc that the whole family can enjoy. And yes, there’s even a tiny slither of character development thrown in, just for good measure. This is no Citizen Kane (the storyline is catalysed by Homer’s decision to leaky silo of pig droppings into Lake Springfield), but, for what it is, The Simpsons Movie is just pleasing enough – a predictable romp through a world we know all too well, peppered by appearances from forgotten supporting characters, and driven by a fresh sense of humour that harks back to the earlier television seasons (the ‘classic’ years.)

Rating: 7.5

Sicko, Michael Moore’s latest exercise in documentary filmmaking, isn’t as spectacularly extravagant as his previous efforts. He still attacks relentlessly, this time striking the financially corrupt and morally bankrupt system of American HMOs, (Health Medical Organisations, or health insurance companies,) while also managing to direct some Republicans into the firing line. He still pushes the overtly emotive score and observes the circumstances through heart wrenching, personal, tear jerking experiences. He still pulls grand publicity stunts; this time travelling to Guantanomo Bay, the only place on American soil where medical aid is offered within a fair and just framework. And of course he still visits his favourite country, Canada, for a game of ‘compare and contrast’ (and this time also travels to England and France.) And yet, despite all these consistencies, the gaping difference is his own withdrawal from the spotlight. This is still distinctly ‘Michael Moore,’ but the very fact that we do not see his face until halfway through the film is indicative of the fact that he has at last taken a backseat, and finally allowed his material to speak for itself. This is his most maturely restrained, and therefore most convincing, effort yet.

Rating: 7.6

Yoko Ono is full of praise for the latest John Lennon doco, The US vs. John Lennon, and it’s not hard to see why. Amongst the expansive back catalogue of documentaries inspired by members of The Beatles, here is one that actually does not deplore her! In fact, this film practically reveres the woman, celebrating the many ways in which she inspired Lennon, and this is a surprisingly refreshing turn. This, however, is as far as the freshness goes. The interview subjects are varied (politicians, media personalities, musicians, activists and Ono herself,) but they seem to all be expelling the same well worn Lennon clichés. Some of the editing effects are just a little tacky, and their attempt to evoke tension falls on deaf ears. And, most significantly, although Gore Vidal alludes to it, there’s no attempt to look at the parallels between Vietnam and Iraq, and Nixon and Bush (an angle which would have made for a much more original documentary.) Overall, this is a powerful portrait of political passion (and if you have any doubts the interviewees will confirm this for you, over and over again), and it is a genuinely intriguing insight into a musical icon; however, as it titters so precariously on the verge of outstanding, it just lacks that extra impetus, or that edge of novelty, required it to push it out of staleness.

Rating: 7.0

Crossing Borders, Go Away From Me, Hecuba: A Dream of Passion

2007-05-20T09:30:00.000-07:00

For the first time in four years, the Spanish Film Festival arrives at Cinema Paradiso. Commencing on a resoundingly high note, the festival opens with Crossing Borders (Un Franco Catorce Pesetas) a drama sprinkled with reality’s comedy, and accented by shades of social criticism. It focuses on Martin (Carlos Iglesias) and Marco (Javier Guiterrez), two friends who leave behind the rife unemployment and faltering economy of 1960s Madrid in favour of picturesque Switzerland. There, they quickly become accustomed to modern technologies and steady wages, and, after being joined by their families a year later, they learn to call this Alpine village their home.

This film is nothing short of an absolute pleasure – the warm, exuberant performances are a joy, and the story remains intensely involving until its conclusion. Weaving effortlessly through the six years these families spend in Switzerland, the plot intersects all manner of life experiences – some joyful and lightly humorous, others harsher and more profound. Tackling themes of migration and home sickness with an appropriate complexity, this is a film that will speak not only to Spanish migrants now living in Australia, but to all those who are caught in limbo between two countries. The personal pick of festival director Natalia Ortiz, this film is a definite highlight.

Rating: 8.5

The festival also presents Go Away From Me (Vete De Mi), a satirical comedy from director Garcia Leon (No Pain, No Gain), about Santiago (Juan Diego), a seemingly satisfied professional actor, (relatively) content with life and his live-in girlfriend, Ana (Christina Plazas). That is all until his hedonistic thirty-something son, Guillermo (Juan Diego Botto), arrives at his doorstep. After initially attempting to dispel Guillermo from his house, Santiago soon finds himself trying to offer advice, and, unexpectedly, ends up questioning his own direction in life.

This film could be easily cut in two. The first half is slow moving, mundane and lackluster, while the second half is entirely bizarre and will most likely leave you somewhat confused. If you are strong enough to push through the first half, the second is relatively intriguing, particularly as the two men begin to influence each others’ perspectives on life. The performances progress in a similar manner; initially they are utterly unremarkable, and grow stronger as the film continues. Overall, however, despite several pleasing moments, this film is largely forgettable.

Rating: 6.7

Spanish cinema is desperate to prove that it is not all comedy and drama, though, and does so in this festival with the inclusion of short films, co-productions and a couple of documentaries, including Hecuba: A Dream of Passion (Hecuba, Un Sueño De Pasión). This documentary features interviews with about a dozen Spanish actors (including Carmen Maura, Antonio Banderas and Javier Bardem), all of whom speak about the joys and pitfalls of acting as a profession. They discuss, amongst a myriad of topics, the merits of acting school, the reality stage fright, the process of generating emotion on stage and popular myths about actors (such as their inherent vanity), and their spiels are interspliced appropriately with visions from various Spanish films that have explored acting as a subject or theme.

The strength of this film is its selection of interviewees. All the actors are also interesting, inspiring speakers, who liven up the film with intriguing anecdotes and moral lessons. Certainly, this film would probably satisfy anyone with an interest in acting, or with a connection to the Spanish film industry. Unfortunately, for the rest of us, it has very little to offer. The filmmakers have not done anything particularly creative with the documentary form, and, coupled with the fact that the subject matter is also actually not very interesting, the film quickly grows tiresome. While the passion of the speakers is evident, it seems a bit more passion could have been invested into this film as a project.

Rating: 4.5