Strange as it may seem, the difference between a good action movie and a great one isn't actually the action. It's the story. You can have the greatest action sequences of all time, but without a compelling story to back them up they'll end up falling flat, and viewers will struggle to care about why their hero is enduring it all. This characteristic was key to the success of the first Bourne trilogy, which chronicled the relentless attempts of Matt Damon's protagonist to pierce the veil of his amnesia and discover the truth about his past. Less so the follow up, The Bourne Legacy, which again contained outstanding action, but struggled in the later stages when the hero's sole motivation was tracking down medication to keep him functioning as a super soldier. The stakes were lessened, and – as a consequence – so too the audience's regard. As the name suggests, Jason Bourne returns the focus to the heart of this franchise, picking up the story with Matt Damon's character now limping through life in Athens as a bare-knuckle fighter in an illegal gambling ring. When an old face resurfaces and provides him with hacked CIA documents suggesting his past mightn't be as clear-cut as he previously thought, he's forced to resume a cat-and-mouse game with his former employers as they try to kill him, and he tries to find out what they did to him during his recruitment. In that sense, Jason Bourne is back on familiar ground. But with deception supplanting amnesia as the obstacle to his clarity, it's something of a Jason Bourne movie without quite the same level of Jason Bourne magic. As always, the villains – in the form of the CIA and their ominously named 'assets' – spend the bulk of their time in darkened surveillance rooms, delivering almost comically jargon-heavy dialogue with unblinking, stone-cold faces. This time round the team is led by Tommy Lee-Jones as CIA Director Robert Dewey, and Alicia Vikander as his ruthless senior analyst Heather Lee. If nothing else, Jason Bourne is a terrifying insight into the technological capabilities now available to the world's top spy agencies, able to surveil the faces of thousands of people instantly and simultaneously within a riot, remotely shut down the power of a building in Reykjavik, and delete the files off a computer via a mobile phone in the same apartment. The emphasis on technology, however, pulls focus away from the man at the heart of the story, and the movie feels slightly hollow because of it. Director Paul Greengrass's preference for minimal dialogue and frenetic, shaky cinematography is well known. In this film he constantly pushes the limits of continuity, resulting in the need for clumsily inserted markers just to keep the audience up to speed. Maps are helpfully labelled "SEWER SYSTEM" in giant letters, every text message is sent in all-caps, and when Bourne nabs several items from a tech convention, they're beneath signs saying "Remote Surveillance Camera" and "Wireless Tracking Device". It's an unfortunate dumbing down of a traditionally intelligent franchise, feeling almost as though the script notes for the props department somehow ended up on screen. Even the action, whilst constant and thrilling, lacks some of the Magyver-esque charm of the earlier films, in which Bourne improvised lethal weapons out of everyday items like biro pens and rolled up newspapers. In a word, it's all very conventional, taking the franchise out of its genre-defining position and dropping it squarely back into the middle of the pack. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v71ce1Dqqns
Partway into Unfinished Business, three Americans go to Berlin. It’s a busy week in the German capital, with hotel rooms hard to come by. The youngest of the trio, Mike Pancake (Dave Franco), books into the only place he and his 67-year-old colleague, Timothy Winters (Tom Wilkinson), can afford: a youth hostel. Their boss, Dan Trunkman (Vince Vaughn), unknowingly opts for a “habitable work of art”, where he’s on display in a museum. The level of comedy shown here, of the “old folks doing young things”, “look how mismatched everyone is” and “isn’t this a ridiculous idea” variety, are actually some of the film’s best work. That’s not a compliment. But when much of the movie makes fun of unusual names, of a man wearing women’s clothing, and of the difficulties someone identified as challenged has in understanding certain words, well, the bar hasn’t been set very high. Also on the hit-list of Unfinished Business’ allegedly humorous subjects: gawking at naked women, the stereotype of women acting like men to make it in business, women compared to vending machines, gay nightclub culture and steam rooms. Contrast that with the film’s supposedly softer side, attempting to address bullying, fitting in, standing up for yourself and chasing what you believe in. That the combination of crassness and schmaltz is as muddled and messy as it is ill fitting is hardly surprising. The plot stems from a Jerry Maguire moment, as family man Dan quits his job selling metal shavings to go out on his own, and Mike and Timothy follow. A year later, they’re up for a lucrative contract – but despite being told the gig is theirs by their contact (Nick Frost), they’re pitted against Chuck (Sienna Miller), their previous employer. Though both teams travel to Berlin, it seems that smarmy exec Jim (James Marsden) has already made up his mind. Dan is forced to take drastic action to succeed, and to take care of everyone counting on him. Why Hollywood is convinced that audiences want to see Vaughn making the same kind of movies – especially these kind of movies – remains a mystery. He’s a likeable enough presence, but continually playing a big-hearted underachiever trying to get his life back on track via fratboy-like antics doesn’t do anyone any favours. Vaughn and his director Ken Scott obviously disagree, re-teaming after the thematically similar Delivery Man. If you’ve seen that, or The Internship, then you know what you’re in for here. The scattershot approach shown in the script doesn’t help matters, rushing from one scene to the next as fast as it can, even though the film always feels like it is dragging. Nor does the insistence that more is more: more crude gags, more cliches, more over-the-top exploits and more drama. And then there’s poor Franco and Wilkinson, saddled with one-note characters, but trying hard. At least someone is. Otherwise, Unfinished Business is an overstuffed, underdone mess that lives up to its name – and a film easily bested by its stock image marketing campaign.
Hitchcock had Cary Grant. Kurosawa had Toshiro Mifune. Now, in the modern era, Jaume Collet-Serra has Liam Neeson. The duo have worked together on four films to date: Unknown, Non-Stop, Run All Night and now The Commuter. This most recent collaboration features all the familar trademarks: Neeson plays Michael MacCauley, a regular, everyday insurance salesman with a complicated past and a fractious family situation, who suddenly finds himself thrust into a high octane, race-against-the-clock scenario complete with double crosses, mysterious messages and plenty of dead bodies. This time around Neeson finds himself on a train. Beyond that, The Commuter runs disappointingly close to the far superior Non-Stop. Just as it was on that terror-threatened plane, Neeson is again tasked with identifying an important passenger about whom he knows nothing. Non-compliance will result in the sudden and violent deaths of those around him. There's an early appearance by a femme fatale (here, the wildly underused Vera Farmiga), a claustrophobic fight scene and, of course, a comically over-the-top climax. But while Non-Stop managed to keep things relatively fresh, The Commuter just feels tired and increasingly incoherent. Collet-Serra's films are often described as modern day B-movies. Whether that's meant as an insult depends on the critic – but either way, it's hard to argue that they don't fit the label. His films are wild rides that focus more on adrenalin than story; Hitchcockian pastiches that thoroughly entertain but don't always hold up under scrutiny. His best film by far is also his most reserved: The Shallows, starring Blake Lively, was a deliciously tense woman-vs-shark thriller that proved to be one of the most enjoyable (and surprising) hits of last year. By comparison, while the filmmaker's collaborations with Neeson have unquestionably borne excellent fruit, their limitations must also be acknowledged. Neeson is a terrific actor with an extraordinary body of work behind him, yet that same gravitas works against him when playing the everyday Joe roles Collet-Serra continues to give him. He's too intense to pull off folksy charm, whilst workmanlike barroom banter ("another day, another dollar") sounds ridiculous coming out of his mouth. The truth is, while Taken remains something of a gold standard in the annals of contemporary action flicks, attempts to replicate it with the same leading man have largely fallen short. The Commuter offers fine entertainment for a switched off brain, but little more. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WWexI9YiLSc
Watching a film by French writer/director Bertrand Bonello can feel like having a spell cast upon you. In movies such as 2016's Nocturama and 2019's Zombi Child, that's how magnetic and entrancing his blend of ethereal mood and dreamy imagery has felt. So it is with The Beast, too, another hypnotic feature that bewitches and also probes, because none of these three Bonello flicks ask their viewers to merely submit. Rather, they enchant while raising questions about the state of the world, whether digging into consumerism and anarchy, hierarchies of race and class, or the role of humanity in an increasingly technology-mediated society. The latter is the domain of the filmmaker's loose adaptation of Henry James' 1903 novella The Beast in the Jungle — a take that, as its author didn't and couldn't, perceives how the clash of humanity's emotions and artificial intelligence's data-driven analysis is fated to favour the cold and the calculating. In 2044, the very fact that people are guided by their feelings has rendered them unsuitable for most jobs in The Beast's AI-dominated vision of the future. Played with the mastery of both deeply conveyed expression and telling stillness that's long characterised her performances, Dune: Part Two, Crimes of the Future and No Time to Die's Léa Seydoux is Gabrielle, who is among the throngs relegated to drone-like drudgery in this new world order. To shift her daily reality, where she reads the temperature of data cores, she only has one path forward: a cleansing of her DNA. It involves spending sessions immersed in a black goopy bath to confront her emotions and past, a procedure that she's told will rid her of her trauma and baggage. Crossing paths with Gabrielle at the treatment centre, Louis (1917 and True History of the Kelly Gang's George MacKay) has the same choice. Bonello begins The Beast with the opposite of stolidness, with green-screen acting as Gabrielle reacts to directions uttered her way by an off-screen voice, and with her eyes widening and voice screaming at a monster who'll be added in the post-production process. It's a stunning introduction. Seydoux is transfixing from this moment onwards, but the entire range of her portrayal from cool and collected to uncertain and then terrified is captured in mere minutes. Bonello also thrusts fear, a key theme of James' book and this picture alike, to the fore — as well as the notion of being petrified of something intangible. The scene recognises that that which makes our blood run cold doesn't always exist, and queries how we make the panic in our heads and hearts feel real. It also turns Gabrielle into a doll behaving at someone else's behest, revealing a motif that'll continue to pop up while examining how much agency we have when imagined nightmares can so easily control us. The Gabrielle that starts off the movie isn't and is the Gabrielle going all Under the Skin-meets-Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind in 2044. Wafting around a surreal atmosphere that recalls David Lynch's Mulholland Drive and Inland Empire as well, The Beast flits between parallel Gabrielles in different times, as she does while submitting to purification. Sometimes she's the Gabrielle of the feature's present. Then, she's a past-life Gabrielle in France in 1910. Rounding out the trio: another prior version in 2014 in Los Angeles. In the 20th century, the character is a pianist whose husband owns a doll-making factory. In the early 21st century, she's an actor and model housesitting a gleamingly lavish mansion while doing the audition rounds to get noticed. Louis dwells in all three as well, orbiting around her — as a romantic option who isn't afraid of pursuing a married woman in the Belle Époque era just before the Great Flood inundated Paris, then a misogynistic 30-year-old virgin broadcasting his lifted-from-actuality diatribes online in the 2010s just as the La Habra earthquake hits, then a man drawn her way and facing the same haunting feel-or-thrive dilemma that has Gabrielle in a tub. In The Beast in the Jungle, the tale's namesake is the lurking belief pulsing through James' protagonist that calamity awaits. 1910's Gabrielle has confessed the same concerns. The novel and the film each plunge into a potential self-fulfilling prophecy, then: if we expect doom and gloom, and we base our decisions upon its arrival, do we destine ourselves for it? In response, a seize-the-day message washes through the two iterations of this story; however, the timing that Bonello uses for his triptych's chapters gives The Beast a telling push and pull. One person's catastrophising is another's being prepared — and, as existence today means grappling with the sci-fi dystopian notions of AI and climate change becoming real, the filmmaker, who co-scripts with Benjamin Charbit (Spirit of Ecstasy) and Guillaume Bréaud (Eat the Night), sees that seeming irrationally wary of the possible worst-case scenario doesn't preclude a life-altering disaster from happening. Bonello doesn't just want to observe The Beast's recurring loops — like dolls, pigeons and telling fortunes as well as 'Evergreen' by Roy Orbison repeat — but to make the emotions that spring, as well as the battle with even having them, seep into his viewers. Not just Seydoux but Mackay are excellent choices to make good on this aim, each gifted at a very particular task: relaying the full swell and swirl of feelings that comprises every variation of Gabrielle and Louis human for better and for worse, and also makes them distinct, while spying the echoes between them in each era. Around his two leads, production design, costume design, hairstyling and makeup are crucial. The film veers from period romance to psychological thriller and then sci-fi horror across its trio of intertwined parts, and every craft choice — Josée Deshaies' (Passages) lingering cinematography included — enforces the distinction. And yet, Seydoux and Mackay could've unleashed their potent performances solely against green backgrounds with the same look throughout and had the same impact. To watch The Beast is to experience the premonitory unease, and the back-and-forth between the hope of joy and the dread of the unknown, that colours its tales within tales and its hops from genre to genre. This is a film with chaos and change at its core, but that spots the anchors and emotions that remain the same no matter what portrait of life is unfurling. First with android doll Kelly (Saint Omer's Guslagie Malanda, also exceptional), 2044's Gabrielle frequents a hidden-away nightclub where the theme cycles between a specific year night by night. One evening, it's 1972. Another, it's 1980. On yet another, it's 1963. There Bonello goes, finding a way to distill his film down to its essence yet again, as his opening sequence does — because what is navigating being alive and falling in love if not never knowing what any given day or night will bring, regardless of the time or impending ruin, then trying to face that fact? If technology steals that truth away, The Beast posits, our nature is conjure up a way to take solace in it anyway.
Mother's day comes and goes every year but no matter how many times you write in a card, buy a bunch of flowers or hit the shops hoping to find that special something, it never seems to show just how much we love our mums. C Gallery is hosting a cracker mum date so you can spoil your favourite lady early and surprise her with a high-tea party in her honour. The day will feature an array of activities including a tea seminar by Slurp Chief Flavour Guru Dr Matthew Hynd, tea-leaf readings, a fashion show by Ivy & Bird and Catepillar as well as make-up and hair touch ups by Vanilla Salon. Woot woo! On top of all this, your ticket will include a gift bag with over $300 worth of vouchers and products from Stone and Metal Gallery, Ivy & Bird, Gary Castles and other local businesses. But the best is still yet to come. What is a high tea with out a glorious arrangment of cakes? Local baker Spencer Thomasz will decorate an edible masterpiece for the mammas to enjoy as will Brisbane artist David Behrens, whose work also featured in the gallery last month. Treat your mum this mother day, even if it's a week early.
Another occasion, another opportunity for a Southside Tea Room party. And Brisbane’s best suburban hangout sure does know how to throw them. For Halloween, all things dark and sinister take over, and we don’t just mean witches, pumpkins, skeletons and cats. Prepare for a scream-worthy, scare-inducing wonderland, complete with cheap beers and the intriguing promise of black snacks. Wander through the smoke-filled bar while wearing your most frightening costume, with prizes awarded for the best dressed. If wearing spooky clothing isn’t your thing, there will be other giveaways on offer. Consider yourself warned: eternal damnation may or may not be one of the rewards. This isn’t being billed as the Halloween party to end all Halloween parties without good reason. Whatever your preferred attire, corpse paint is essential – either DIY before you arrive, or be transformed at the door. If you don’t know how, Daemyan Raven’s tutorial is recommended.
A few years back, VEND Marketplace added a new space dedicated to plants. Its mission: to help you fill your home with all types of greenery. And to help you do just that, it's hosting another of its regular — and huge — sales. Welcome to the Greenhouse, as the area is aptly known. The place where gardeners' dreams come true, it's upping the ante from 8am–4pm on Saturday, December 17. That's when the 250-square-metre indoor garden will be slinging its green babies at a special one-day Life Is Plantastic! event — and yes, there'll be succulents, cacti and indoor-friendly plants, plus pots as well. Thanks to the onsite cafe, there'll also be juice, smoothies, tea, coffee, beer and wine to drink — and meals to eat if all that shopping through stalls and 100-plus businesses gets your stomach rumbling. VEND is also doggo-friendly, should you want to bring your four-legged pal with you. And getting in quickly is recommended, because these plant specials are on offer on a first in, first served basis. It's VEND's last plant sale of 2022, and also timed nicely if you'd like to give greenery for Christmas. Images: VEND Marketplace.
Lord Of The Rings was a triumph in cinematic adaptations. Beautifully shot, wonderfully casted and critically acclaimed; the Peter Jackson helmed saga was memorable and is a sure-fire classic. Now, Mr. Jackson is tackling J.R.R. Tolkien’s other notable work, The Hobbit. Following the exploits of Bilbo Baggins and a fellowship of Dwarves, the story details the travellers attempt to reclaim the Lonely Mountain, former home of the Dwarves. With performances by Martin Freeman, Richard Armitage and Benedict Cumberbatch (plus familiar faces from the first trilogy, Ian McKellen, Cate Blanchett and Hugo Weaving) The Hobbit trilogy could very well match the successes of Lord Of The Rings. The movie is out now, so go on an adventure and see it soon!
Get set to jump up, jump up and get down, just go ahead and jump, or get jumpin' jumpin at Samford until April 15. Whichever jump-themed song you now have stuck in your head, it's appropriate. We are talking about a pop-up inflatable theme park, after all. Setting up shop at the Samford Netball Club over the school holidays, The Inflatable Factory is fun for kids and kidults alike, boasting quite the range of blow-up bouncy attractions. On-site you'll find a 12-metre-high slide, a Zorb ball ramp and a 20-metre-long wild west obstacle course — plus a bubble soccer arena, and more. Tickets cost $17 for as much jumping around as you can fit into two hours — which, let's face it, is probably just about the right amount of time. If you do want to stay longer, you can purchase an extra hour for $7. There's also coffee and snacks available as well.
What is music? This curious question might be asked by the youngest of us, the oldest, and almost everyone, ever. The forever rhetorical question has not even been answered or its meaning brought into question when involved in the Tribal Theatre's last hurrah, but we're gonna go with it anyway. I have a question for you: did you know that the Tribal Theatre had a bomb shelter? Who even has bomb shelters these days? My mind goes back Ned Flanders' bomb shelter for some reason... anyway, it's best to be prepared for impending doom, and sadly, in this instance the doom is the Tribal Theatre's closure. The old Dendy cinemas on George Street were given a new lease of life earlier last year under the Tribal moniker, and are about to change hands once again – but it's unsure if it will return as cinemas. There'll be plenty of performing artists, sound artworks and even a DJ set to get the underground a pumpin', including the curiously named bands Company Fuck and Meat Thump. What better way to celebrate the triumphs the little cinema that could has made (hosting theme nights, presenting BIFF and becoming a wedding venue) than to ponder what music is, whilst acting like it's the end of the world? You might even find the answer.
It's been more than a year since Welcome to Bowen Hills first opened its doors, and the permanent food truck park is still offering new reasons to stop by. Late in 2018, it added both an onsite pizza joint and a whole heap of arcade games to the mix, and now it's combining the two in the best possible way. On Thursdays until the end of June, you can head along to Bottomless Pizza and Pinnies night, delivering exactly what the name suggests. If the name sounds familiar, that's because the venue ran something similar with pale ale in February and March. While it has ditched the brews, it's still offering up a bargain. "I wish I could eat more slices" and "I just don't want to stop hitting those flippers" aren't things that you'll be saying here. Yes, the main attractions are all endless. For $15, attendees will enjoy as much of Harry's Pizza's finest as they can handle — and the same applies to playing pinball, NBA, Pac-Man and the other games around the place. If that sounds like your ideal way to spend an evening, the fun runs from 7pm each week. Image: Adam Shaw. Updated April 28.
Located in the Great Sandy National Park, Double Island Point is a tranquil spot for just that. To get there you'll need a four-wheel drive, a beach driving permit, all your own supplies and knowledge of the tides (you can only reach it at certain points of the day) — so invite your mates who are more seasoned campers. But once you're there, you'll experience clear blue water, complete calm and, hopefully, a chance encounter with a dolphin or two. Pack your sleeping bag, your favourite people, supplies for a fireside feast and make a weekend of it.
Capable of tearing it up with a screamalong feedback-fuelled tune or turning things down with a snuggly acoustic ballad, Sydney's rambunctious garage crew Palms are one of the country's surefire good time live shows. If you haven't burled along to 'The Summer is Done With Us', scratched up your vocal chords with 'Love' or dived into All The Feels with 'In the Morning', you're in for a warm, sweaty introduction. The brainchild of Ex-Red Riders Al Grigg and Tom Wallace, the foursome released their debut album Step Brothers last August. Currently working on their follow-up, the lads were getting a little stir crazy. According to their Facey-B: "Because we get bored easily, and because it's been about a year since we put out our debut album Step Brothers, and because we missed yas, and because we missed sleeping on our mates' couches, drinking their beers and washing irregularly, we decided to hit the road." One for fans of fuzzy, gazey fun like King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, Twerps or Bleeding Knees Club, Palms crank a mean, loud live show. Likely to trial material from the upcoming second album, this is set to be a tour-before-the-follow-up type of deal — meaning no holds barred, pressure off, get loose type of fun.
There'll be rockin' in the free world on April 28 — or, at The Triffid, to be exact. The Newstead venue is throwing one of their now-legendary celebrations of absolutely legendary musicians. In the spotlight this time is the man that keeps searchin' for a heart of gold, Neil Young. Halfway, Good Oak, Dana, Gehrman & The Honey Sliders, Phil Smith & The Lights and The Predators are on the bill at Like a Hurricane: A Tribute to Neil Young, and the latter is particularly exciting. The local rockers feature Haugie and JC from Powderfinger — well, the latter does own the joint, after all. They'll all do their best to do justice to Young's enormous array of tracks, and they'll keep The Triff's tribute series flowing. Previous gigs have showered the love on Bruce Springsteen, Fleetwood Mac, The Cure, Pink Floyd, The Clash, Metallica, Iggy Pop, The Go-Betweens and Radiohead. Yep, these shows are always something special.
There are days when the Brisbane art scene needs to count its blessings for having Metro Arts under its banner. They consistently bring home some of Australia’s best names in art, and their latest exhibition is true testament to their pulling power. FLEET brings to Brisbane Sydney-based can-do-no-wrong visual arts collective OK YEAH COOL GREAT, who have curated pieces from 12 interstate contemporary artists working in collaborative duos. Duos Darren Seltmann and Vicky Browne, Kylie Banyard and Ron Adams, SuperKaleidoscope (Kim Fasher and Sarah Mosca), Charles Dennington and Tully Arnot, Todd Robinson and Mark Titmarsh, and Monika Behrens and Rochelle Haley present a mix of experience, talents and times in Metro Arts' FLEET. The pieces mirror their collaborations — there’s distortion, collision and the exploration of alternative representation through various mediums. Sculpture meets painting, video meets performance, and two becomes one in this collaborative exhibition. FLEET opens Wednesday, October 22, at 6pm, with the opportunity to hear from the artists at the opening event. OKAY YEAH COOL GREAT will perform on Friday, November 7, as part of Friday Night: November at Metro Arts.
If a certain bespectacled boy wizard and two best friends have taught us anything, it's that life really is magical sometimes. Take the latest Harry Potter-themed event, which we're certain is going to become the next big pop culture/fitness craze craze. Who doesn't want to bend and stretch in a HP yoga class? Yep, on October 30, the folks at Circle Brewing Co in Austin, Texas did something even more wonderful than make delicious alcoholic beverages; they made many a Harry Potter fan's dreams come true. It's part of their Pints & Poses series (which seriously sounds like our kind of exercise), and was held as both a fun Halloween and Dia de los Muertos-esque shindig, and a celebration of the life of Lily and James Potter on the eve of the anniversary of their passing. Attendees worked Slytherin cobra and Whomping Willow poses, wielded wands to summon a Patronus and cast off Dementors, and were told to "imagine you're sitting on the Hogwarts Express," according to Cosmopolitan in the US. They also ate sorting hat-shaped cookies, visited a potion station, and, afterwards, everyone had a pint of Circle (non-butter)beer. Of course they did. The class was so popular that two more are now slated for November, should you happen to be in the vicinity this month. Given that we already have silent yoga, silent disco yoga, cat yoga, blindfolded yoga, hip hop yoga, brewhouse yoga, rooftop yoga, Beyonce yoga, Drake yoga and stand-up paddleboard yoga on our fair shores, it really is the kind of thing that someone in Australia ought to conjure up, and fast. Accio fitness, and all that. Images: Circle Brewing Co.
For two days, one particular patch of Brisbane has all of your Christmas needs covered, including one that you mightn't have given as much thought to as you'd like. If you're eager to give your loved ones gifts that were created by hand, and ethically, then that's what the Brisbane Fair Trade Christmas Market is all about. It's also a chance to pick up homewares, clothing and more from other cultures, with pieces made by artisan communities in Africa, Asia, South America and other areas around the globe. No, your dad isn't getting boring old socks. And no, you're not just buying your mum flowers. The market runs from 8am–7pm on Saturday, November 25 and from 8am–3pm on Sunday, November 26 at the Queensland Sport and Athletics Centre. An added bonus: you'll be perusing for presents in air-conditioning. Already know that all that shopping will make you hungry? There's also a cafe onsite.
Screenlife films such as Missing should be the last thing that moviegoers want. When we're hitting a cinema or escaping into our streaming queues, we're seeking a reprieve from the texts, chats, pics, reels, searches, and work- and study-related tasks that we all stare at on our phones and computers seemingly 24/7. (Well, we should be, unless we're monsters who can't turn off our devices while we watch.) There's a nifty dose of empathy behind thrillers like this, its excellent predecessor Searching, and the similar likes of Unfriended and Profile, however, that relies upon the very fact that everyone spends far too much time living through technology. When an on-screen character such as Missing's June (Storm Reid, The Last of Us) is glued to the gadget on their desk or lap, or in their hand — when they're using the devices that've virtually become our new limbs non-stop to try to solve their problems and fix their messy existence, too — it couldn't be more relatable. As Missing fills its frames with window upon window of June's digital activities, cycling and cascading through FaceTime calls, Gmail messages, WhatsApp downloads, Google Maps tracking, TikTok videos, TaskRabbit bookings, plain-old websites and more, it witnesses its protagonist do plenty that we've all done. And, everything she's undertaking feels exactly that familiar — like the film could be staring back at each member of its audience rather than at an 18-year-old who starts the movie unhappy that her mother Grace (Nia Long, You People) is jetting off to Colombia with her new boyfriend Kevin (Ken Leung, Old). That sensation remains true even though Missing's viewers have likely never had their mum disappear in another country, and their life forever turned upside down as a result. We've all experienced the mechanics behind what writer/directors Will Merrick and Nick Johnson (who make their feature debut in both roles after editing Searching) are depicting in our own ways, with only the vast power of the internet able to help. As an opening video set 12 years earlier explains, plus folders of medical info and farewells over a move from Texas to California, June is far from thrilled about Grace and Kevin's getaway due to its timing. She isn't fussed about her mum's rules for while they're away and repetitive reminders to empty her voice messages, either, but they'll be gone over the weekend of Father's Day, a difficult occasion given that June's father James (Tim Griffin, True Detective) passed away when she was a kid. To fill her time home alone, she makes sure that she's not really home alone, throwing parties she's not supposed to, avoiding tipping off her mum's lawyer pal Heather (Amy Landecker, Your Honor) — who's on check-up duties — and hanging out with her bestie Veena (Megan Suri, Never Have I Ever). But when June heads to Los Angeles airport to collect Grace and Kevin upon their return, her situation gets worse. She waits. She holds up a playful sign. She films the whole thing as well. But no one shows. Five years have passed since Searching became one of the best screenlife movies yet while making stellar use of John Cho (Cowboy Bebop) as a dad desperate to find his absent daughter. With that flick's writer/director Aneesh Chaganty and co-scribe Sev Ohanian getting a story credit, Missing flips the setup, having a kid looking as far and wide as technology currently allows for a parent instead. With some assistance from FBI Agent Park (Daniel Henney, Criminal Minds), but not enough — plus on-the-ground sleuthing by Cartagena local Javi (Joaquim de Almeida, Warrior Nun), thanks to an outsourcing service — June gets investigating, and also increasingly frantic about what's happened, why, where Grace might be and how to get her home. The film also gets pacier than Searching, reflecting not just half a decade's worth of tech advancements, but a teenager's innate, always-on comfort with the online landscape as a digital native. June doesn't just hop from app to app, program to program, chat to chat and call to call quickly — and, conveniently for the film, keep her webcam running in-between so viewers see the stress expand across her face as she does so. As she scours and worries, worries and sours, she's as creative as she is determined with her detective skills. Indeed, Missing doubles as both stalker 101 and a cybersecurity warning. If you're already concerned about the surveillance-heavy times that we live in, expect your Black Mirror-style anxieties to only expand while watching. Missing is so relatable in what it's showing, rather than the tale it's using all those computer windows to show, that it's also a double-edged sword: we've all been June, inseparable from our MacBooks and the like; can our online lives be so easily picked through, as Grace does to Kevin as her suspicions heighten, as well? As Searching did, Missing has its audience playing gumshoe along with its characters. As Unfriended and Profile did — all four movies share Russian Kazakh filmmaker Timur Bekmambetov as a producer, and he also directed Profile — it keeps everyone on high alert via a tense, propulsive and immersive affair. Viewing screenlife flicks, which also includes the unconnected Host and We're All Going to the World's Fair (and the less-convincing Spree, and downright grating Dash Cam), means constantly seeking clues as to where the next twist, revelation or crucial detail will spring from. They're an involving experience, especially when there are people to find and crimes to solve, and Missing is as on-edge, nail-biting and as attention-demanding as they come. Amid the sea of clips, conversations and text on-screen — and some wild leaps in logic — the nerves and vigilance here aren't June's alone. Missing knows how folks watching will engage, even if it obviously isn't interactive in the way that film-meets-game Isklander — screenlife IRL, basically — is. It knows that it exists in a world obsessed with true-crime, smartly commenting on the pervasive and persistent fascination with other's misdeeds — and overtly linking back to Searching in the process — while asking how much anyone can ever truly know their nearest and dearest. That's another relatable source of the thriller's distress. It's where Reid proves devastatingly effective, compellingly shifting from a teen annoyed at her mum's overprotectiveness to the point of virtually ignoring her, to a concerned daughter willing to do whatever it takes, to questioning everything that she's ever been told. Long also plays her panicky matriarch part with potency, but the riveting Missing is right on target at grounding its nerves and thrills alike in all that can be uncovered, endured and experienced with your fingers on a keyboard and your eyes staring at your chosen rectangle.
Blockbuster effects can't mask bland storytelling, as the execs at Disney dip back into their classic library with less than impressive results. An alternate take on the tale of Sleeping Beauty, the studio's latest sees the cackling, leather-clad sorceress recast as a figure of sympathy. Hard to pronounce and harder to sit through, Maleficent is a movie very much in the same vein as Oz the Great and Powerful or the recent Alice in Wonderland — which is to say that it's heavy on expensive-looking digital wizardry and light on just about everything else. Clumsy voiceover sets the scene, in a run-of-the-mill fairytale forest home to pixies, trolls and a curious winged girl named Maleficent (Isobelle Molloy). Although wary of the human kingdom that exists beyond the forest borders, when Maleficent catches an orphan boy named Stefan trespassing, a fledgling romance seems destined to ignite. But humans are a fickle bunch, and so as Stefan grows older he becomes swept up with ambition, culminating in a brutal betrayal in which he cuts off Maleficent's wings in order to secure a place on the throne. Devastated, a now adult Maleficent (Angelina Jolie) embraces her dark side, swearing vengeance on Stefan and placing a curse on his newborn baby, Aurora — spinning wheel, eternal sleep and all. The idea of a Wicked-style reversal on a classic Disney villain is an interesting idea, but first-time director Robert Stromberg — better known for the production design on films like Avatar and Alice in Wonderland — botches the execution. The sporadic voiceover and muddled editing makes the film seem oddly lacking in structure; much of the first half feels like a prologue, setting up what turns out to be an incredibly short and perfunctory climax. The CGI is admittedly pretty immaculate, but none of the designs are in the least bit distinctive. If one the creatures from Maleficent popped-up in The Hobbit or Snow White and the Huntsman, you wouldn't bat an eye. Angelia Jolie is enjoyable as the eponymous spell-crafter, especially in the one or two scenes where she gets to really lay the villainy on thick. On the other hand, the talented Elle Fanning is seriously underutilised as the teenaged iteration of Aurora, whose insipid purity melts Maleficent's heart while putting audience members to sleep. You could argue that the film deserves some credit for its empowered female characters, although the fact that Maleficent's arc is catalysed by a man does somewhat muddy those credentials. On a sidenote, one could also potentially read the film as a kind of PG rape-revenge narrative. The rawest emotional moment in the film comes when Maleficent awakens from a drug-induced sleep only to realise that her lover has forcibly removed her wings. The allegory is obvious, and Jolie completely sells the agony of violation. Ultimately though, any and all subtext is either mishandled, squandered or lost under a wave of glossily rendered pixels. In other words, it's business as usual for the folks at the Mouse House, who apparently don't even respect their own canon enough to get a reboot right. https://youtube.com/watch?v=w-XO4XiRop0
When you've already mined the funny side of Irish law enforcement and contemplated the impact of religion, what comes next? If you're John Michael McDonagh, director of The Guard, Calvary and now War on Everyone, you take aim at crooked cops in the United States. Specifically, you focus your third feature on a duo who enjoy their rule-breaking ways, venture into bigger, badder territory than they're used to, and subsequently — surprisingly — start to feel a little conflicted about it. Terry Monroe (Alexander Skarsgard) and Bob Bolano (Michael Pena) are the pair in question: one quick to violence and happily single, the other somewhat contemplative and married with kids. They both like each other, cracking wise, the corrupt niche they've carved out for themselves, and little else ("you can shoot people for no reason," Terry explains when asked why he joined the force). First introduced running down a cocaine-dealing mime, they're soon trying to shake off scrutiny from their boss (Paul Reiser) while attempting to steal cash from a new group of criminals. Alas, as they beat and blackmail their way around Albuquerque — and to Iceland and back as well — their plan unwittingly places them in the path of a far-from-forgiving British aristocrat turned kingpin (Theo James). Spouting dialogue that eagerly, indiscriminately insults any group you can think of, Terry and Bob's war really is on everyone — including, in an extension of their self-destructive ways, themselves. Cue a film that combines irreverent misanthropy, a raft of cop clichés, and a partial journey of self-discovery. Thanks to McDonagh's dripping satire and cynicism, plenty of laughs spring from their antics, but the end result remains hit-and-miss. Think Starsky and Hutch remade for the post-True Detective age, complete with the back-and-forth banter and philosophising the blend suggests, and a dash of awkwardness too. When War on Everyone is good, though, it's very good. It's strikingly shot, energetically paced and extraordinarily well cast as far as its leads are concerned. Indeed, while co-stars such as Caleb Landry Jones and Tessa Thompson are asked to either rely upon caricature or given too little to work with, Skarsgard and Pena enliven every scene they're in, and even make their unsympathetic-on-paper characters somehow likeable. Viewed simply as a collection of buddy cop scenes written and directed by someone who has obviously watched a sizeable serving of '70s American cinema, and starring two actors with a clear feel for the material and a rapport with each other, War on Everyone entertains more often than it doesn't. Where the film struggles, however, is in piecing together anything substantial or cohesive beyond its stylish sights, spiky lines and impressive leads. At times, it plays like the kind of wannabe Quentin Tarantino flick that might have dropped in the mid-'90s. Fun, funny, but nothing to write home about.
Never forget that the first American version of Godzilla thwarted the titular behemoth by using "an internet". That's the ridiculously awful 1998 film's legacy (well, that and fruitlessly trying to follow in Jurassic Park's footsteps more than its own Japanese predecessors). Deploying the same logic, Reddit should probably be the saviour in Godzilla: King of the Monsters. It isn't, but that might've proven more interesting. Continuing the new US-made series that began with 2014's Godzilla and will link up with Kong: Skull Island once next year's Godzilla vs Kong comes around, this 'MonsterVerse' sequel actually does take a few cues from its late-90s American counterpart — more than any movie should, and not to its benefit. Some come through in the story, including a routine finale in a sporting arena. Others are evident at the human level, corralling yet another array of dull, feuding characters scrambling all over the place. But the main similarity is something that all US Godzilla reboots have struggled with: not knowing what to do with its hulking star. It's unsurprisingly strange to watch people quaking in the famous kaiju's shadow, whether in awe, fear or both, while the film they're in focuses on their reactions instead of the towering figure. King of the Monsters ups the creature factor considerably, giving Godzilla friends (Mothra), frenemies (Rodan) and foes (King Ghidorah) amongst a 17-strong cohort of havoc-wreaking 'titans'. At a narrative level, it doesn't just lean into the idea that more of these giant, city-levelling critters exist — it makes that very notion its premise. Alas, the film prefers to explain that supersized lizards, insects, pterodactyls, mammoths and three-headed dragons are frightening via clunky dialogue and pained faces, rather than offer much monster-on-monster action. Taking over from Godzilla's Gareth Edwards, writer-director Michael Dougherty has a background in horror thanks to Trick 'r' Treat and Krampus, but misappropriates one of that genre's key elements. Watching scared folks react to mysterious bumps and jumps in the night works a treat, all thanks to the powers of suggestion and imagination, however the same isn't true when your whole movie screams "Aaaaaaah! Fucking huge monsters! And so many of them!" Five years after Godzilla emerged from the earth's depths to battle a massive unidentified terrestrial organism, humans are basically yelling the aforementioned line. The government wants to know how many titans exist so that it can exterminate them. Shadowy outfit Monarch, led by scientists Ishirō Serizawa (Ken Watanabe) and Vivienne Graham (Sally Hawkins), plead that people and Godzilla can live together, and that maybe good ol' Zilly could even save us all. Also working for Monarch in a Chinese facility, paleobiologist Emma Russell (Vera Farmiga) appears to feel the same way, creating a bioacoustics system that can communicate with the creatures. When she's kidnapped, along with her technological breakthrough and her teenage daughter Madison (Millie Bobby Brown), another group enters the fray. Overseen by British soldier turned eco-terrorist Alan Jonah (Charles Dance, because every movie has to feature someone from Game of Thrones), their aim is to let all of the titans loose, watch as they do their worst and hope that the ravaged planet is reborn in the aftermath. Thanos would be proud. Also popping up is Emma's kaiju-hating ex-husband Mark (Kyle Chandler), who once worked at Monarch, has a bone to pick with Godzilla and loves yelling about it while trying to rescue his daughter. And so everyone fights over what to do, with the shouting getting louder as Jonah keeps awakening more and more titans. Human noise isn't what anyone wants from King of the Monsters, though. And if someone does want to watch people squabble in the face of literally existence-shattering critters, the last live-action Japanese Godzilla, 2016's Shin Godzilla, delivered just that in a smart, thoughtful and engaging way. Here, the paper-thin, consistently cliched story doesn't justify so much chatter. Indeed, it feels as if it's been written to slot in beside the big beasty battles, then hurriedly padded out and over-extended when those massive monster melees didn't turn out as planned. Godzilla and Ghidorah do go head-to-head, more than once. Mothra and Rodan get to flap their wings, and brief clips of other creatures are glimpsed as well. King of the Monsters doesn't completely shy away from its prehistoric giants, but they're never the main attraction — or even much of an attraction at all. There's welcome reverence and respect directed Godzilla's way, however the movie barely acknowledges the character's metaphorical significance, preferring to show its love via a few impressive wide shots instead. And while simply pairing it with its fellow iconic figures in the same picture is inherently exciting, King of the Monsters essentially rests there. When it comes to the film's frays, they arrive packaged in dim, dark, Game of Thrones-esque lighting, blighted by ugly special effects and hardly serving up a spectacle. In fact, the battles feel rushed, busy, and never as fun and lively as you'd expect given the whole titan-versus-titan situation. Hollywood is never going to admit that it just doesn't quite get Godzilla, but perhaps it should. Or, maybe it should stop trying to style American Godzilla flicks after whatever else happens to be popular recently — Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom is a clear influence on King of the Monsters, as is the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and it isn't a coincidence that the film taps Stranger Things' Brown for her big-screen debut. 65 years after the enormous lizard-style gargantuan made its initial appearance in the first Japanese Godzilla, it deserves better than by-the-numbers franchise-extending entries. The kaiju genre deserves better too, but at least it has Guillermo del Toro's great Pacific Rim. The fact that King of the Monsters delivers its most thrilling aspect in its credits — the sounds of the original, exceptional, still rousing Godzilla theme, not the obligatory post-reel stinger — screams louder than the movie's humans, and than Godzilla's own roars as well. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UW3xYYJ6NoE
As Pedro Almodóvar sees it, every aspect of life is filled with emotion and mystery. Sentiment and suspense ooze through his movies – although it's not just his narratives that inspire intrigue, or speak volumes about desire, loss, longing and guilt. With a command of style that matches his storytelling abilities, each shade of colour, each textured surface, each intimate close-up and each patient pause reveals and teases, too. The writer-director asks audiences to do more than watch; he wants viewers of his films to probe, to question and — above all else — to feel. It's little wonder, then, that Almodóvar's career has been built upon affairs of the heart and matters weighing on the mind, with his twentieth feature sticking to familiar territory. After sky-high camp comedy misfire I'm So Excited, Julieta unpacks the life of its eponymous figure with hints of the darkness that made the horror-tinged The Skin I Live In so thrilling, and with ample doses of the contemplation and inner drama that have served the Spanish filmmaker so well. First glimpsed in middle age, Julieta (Emma Suárez) is preparing to leave Madrid with her boyfriend (Darío Grandinetti) when she crosses paths with an old friend of her now-estranged daughter. Memories of other times swirl up, derailing her plans and motivating a move into a building the two inhabited years earlier. There, as she comes as close as she can to living in the past, she puts pen to paper to recount her tale. The film brings her recollections to the screen, as a younger Julieta (Adriana Ugarte) meets fisherman Xoan (Daniel Grao) on a train, settles in a seaside village, and forges a happy but short-lived existence. Complex relationships, contentment stolen away by a painful fate, and previous tragedies colouring future decisions – yes, Julieta proves a classic Almodóvar effort through and through, as it fuses three separate short stories from Alice Munro's 2004 book Runaway into one vivid and involving whole. Of course, from the moment the movie opens with the sight of the red fabric of one of Julieta's dresses, its visuals fall into the same category. And while there's little about Julieta that challenges its director or will surprise his fans, it still offers an evocative example of a craftsman doing what he does well. That Julieta largely unravels as expected in both its narrative and in Almodóvar's approach doesn't dampen its vibrancy. Indeed, appearing to so closely follow his own formula might just be by design. That increasingly seems the case whenever the film's performances capture attention, with both Suárez and Ugarte demonstrating devastating nuance. Not only do they provide two different takes on the titular character, but, in the process, they also represent the present and past of Almodóvar's long line of on-screen women. He's long been recognised for exploring female-centric stories and drawing potent performances out of his actresses. As he lets his two leads energise and complicate the film as necessary, he showcases their talent as well as the quiet evolution of his various heroines.
If you’ve been keeping up with Brisbane’s live music exports, you’ll be no stranger to Kite String Tangle. With his groove-abusive beats, and vibrant angles on conventional electo-sound, he’s one of our cities finest musical crafters, and is finally receiving the overwhelming national credit he’s long deserved – hand him the key to the city already Newman. Kite String Tangle has strings pulling him all around the nation – from festivals to sold out gigs – and now he’s home, and ready to throw some dance beats around the neighbourhood. The Zoo will be hosting his homecoming – tiara’s encouraged, and you can jog along for the cheap and chips price of $19.40. If you’ve read this entire piece, thinking who the heck is Kite String Tangle, you are a loser – sorry. But seriously, get on board, and discover the best piece of musical meat on the Brisbane beat buffet. Check out Kite String Tangle’s 'Given the Chance'
Death is everywhere in The Book Thief: sometimes shown, usually implied and — every so often — speaking as its narrator. There is death in the film's opening scene, and there is death again at its end, yet early denunciations have labelled it 'Holocaust lite' or 'Holocaust kitsch', with one critic going so far as to call it "a preposterously sanitised portrait of hardship and war". If these criticisms (of which there have been many) were to be distilled into one pure, refined quibble, it would be that The Book Thief is simply too nice for a story that, at least in part, touches upon the Holocaust. Is it Schindler's List? No, but let's be clear: it's not even remotely trying to be. Directed by Brian Percival (Downton Abbey), this is a PG film, based on a young adult novel and told from the perspective of a 13-year-old German girl. Neither the bestselling book by Markus Zusak nor the film adaptation ever set out to tell the same old conventionally harrowing and affecting war narrative, because — presumably — that story has already been told so many times before. Instead, it presents the moving, imaginative and even charming tale of a child's profound love of literature and its ability to transport, enlighten, incriminate, incite and inspire its reader. That child is Liesel Meminger (Sophie Nelisse), who's put up for adoption after her communist mother is forced to flee the Nazi purge. Liesel's brother dies en route to their new home with the elderly Hubermanns (Geoffrey Rush and Emily Watson), and from the outset it's clear she has an ally in the playful Hans and a challenge in his irascible wife Rosa. She also quickly befriends her snowy-haired neighbour and champion runner Rudy (Nico Liersch), whose idolisation of African-American sprinter Jesse Owens places him at odds with local the Nazi Party officials. Most importantly, though, Liesel begins to learn how to read, and together with Hans she quickly discovers the infinite joys and rewards to be found in books. Her first is picked up on the day of her brother's funeral, the next, rescued from the ashes of a book burning event. Each book tells a story, yet also has a story of its own, and none more so than the copy of Mein Kampf possessed by Max (Ben Schnetzer), a Jewish man kept safe and hidden by the Hubermanns. Which brings us again to the accusation of 'Holocaust kitsch'. Max's torment is prolonged and palpable, drifting close to death on multiple occasions through exhaustion, malnourishment, exposure and the unremitting threat of discovery. Worst of all, he spends — quite literally — years living in the Hubermanns' basement without even a single opportunity to breathe fresh air or once see the sky. Had The Book Thief been told from his perspective, it would have been every bit the despairing and wretched tale so many apparently seek, yet it would not have been the tale told to Zusak by his grandparents and which he, in turn, wished to tell the world. If many of these critics are to be believed, the only way you're permitted to tell a Holocaust story is through bleak imagery, solemn dialogue and a complete lack of tenderness. The Book Thief, much like 1997's Life Is Beautiful, offers a different perspective. Through the extraordinarily talented Nelisse, we see a scared, confused and compassionate girl attempting to make sense of the senseless. The horrors befalling so many around her aren't explicitly shown, but our knowledge of them, matched with the meticulously recreated settings, contributes to a beautiful and largely original tale of one family's bravery, decency and humanity. https://youtube.com/watch?v=hEnLF-pCybw
It couldn't have been hard to cast Pete Davidson as a stoner in Dumb Money, but getting the Bupkis star playing a part that barely feels like a part on paper is perfect in this ripped-from-the-headlines film. He doesn't give the movie's top performance, which goes to lead Paul Dano (The Fabelmans), but he's satisfyingly great as the DoorDash driver who's often trolling his brother online and in-person. He's also an example in Cruella and I, Tonya director Craig Gillespie's entertaining feature of one of the ideas that this true tale heartily disproves. Viewers know what they're going to get from Davidson, and he delivers. Wall Street thought it knew what it was in for when small-time investors splashed their cash on stock for US video-game store chain GameStop, too, but the frenzy that resulted demonstrated otherwise. It was in 2019 IRL when DeepFuckingValue aka Roaring Kitty aka Keith Gill first posted on subreddit r/wallstreetbets that he'd bought stock in GameStop, the Texas-born brand that had been struggling but he thought was undervalued. Dumb Money tells this story from Keith's digital enthusiasm through to the impact upon the financial markets, plus the worldwide attention that followed. In 2021, the GameStop situation wasn't just news. It was a phenomenon, and one of the great modern-day David-versus-Goliath scenarios. There's a reason that this recent chapter of history been turned into a movie, and not just because it's an easy candidate to try to emulate The Big Short: the big end of town kept pulling its usual strings, the 99 percent played their own game instead and the status quo was upended — temporarily. Amid its array of memes, news clips and TikTok snippets, Dumb Money meets Keith in the pandemic, where empty commutes to his industry gig contrast with netizens hanging on his virtual chatter. As the hachimaki-wearing, beer-sipping Roaring Kitty, the Bostonian YouTuber streams from his basement, talking about how "Wall Street gets it wrong all the time" — and why GameSpot might be one of those instances. His wife Caroline (Shailene Woodley, Robots) is already supportive, and viewers and forum posters begin to agree. Enter a motley crew of characters all snapping up stock: Pittsburgh nurse and single mother Jenny (America Ferrera, Barbie) dreams of being able to comfortably take care of her children, Austin college students Riri (Myha'la Herrold, Black Mirror) and Harmony (Talia Ryder, Do Revenge) have tuition to pay, and Detroit GameStop worker Marcos (Anthony Ramos, Transformers: Rise of the Beasts) sports bigger ambitions than toeing the corporate line enforced by his by-the-book boss Brad (Dane DeHaan, Oppenheimer). Keith, Jenny and company comprise Dumb Money's titular term: it's what amateur individual investors are dubbed. On the supposedly "smart money" side sit the wealthy who want to get even wealthier. Hedge fund cronies Gabe Plotkin (Seth Rogen, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem), Steve Cohen (Vincent D'Onofrio, Godfather of Harlem) and Kenneth C Griffin (Nick Offerman, The Last of Us) are all spliced into the pacy narrative from luxurious abodes — Miami mansions, well-appointed offices and country clubs — while looking like money as well as living and breathing it. With GameStop, they're aiming to make more by betting the other way. They'll profit as shares fall, which Roaring Kitty, his acolytes and their efforts to drive up the price to cash in themselves threaten. Also in the slick-and-sweating camp are Vlad Tenev (Sebastian Stan, Sharper) and Baiju Bhatt (Rushi Kota, Never Have I Ever), creators of trading platform Robinhood, which is touted as a democratising advance and widely used by GameStop stock devotees, then shifts its allegiances. Rogen, Stan and Australian filmmaker Gillespe collaborated on Pam & Tommy, which also took a slice of actuality, broke down the details, unpacked the chaos and served it up engagingly. It was an underdog tale as well — not by splitting its time between its eponymous celebrities and the folks who leaked their sex tape, but because Pamela Anderson's fight to be seen as more than a sex symbol beat at its centre. Here, the hierarchy is straightforward. There's no doubting who's battling and who already possesses the power, although an off-screen tidbit does cast a shadow over the anti-establishment push, emphasising that money talks no matter what. Among the film's executive producers are Tyler and Cameron Winklevoss, the investors famous for being portrayed by Armie Hammer in The Social Network, plus everything that movie covered about their involvement in Facebook's early days. Penned by Orange Is the New Black alumni Lauren Schuker Blum and Rebecca Angelo, adapting Ben Mezrich's 2021 book The Antisocial Network: The GameStop Short Squeeze and the Ragtag Group of Amateur Traders That Brought Wall Street to Its Knees (the author's 2009 tome The Accidental Billionaires: The Founding of Facebook, a Tale of Sex, Money, Genius, and Betrayal was the basis for The Social Network), Dumb Money isn't the first time that the GameStop stock saga has reached screens. It also won't be the last. Two-part HBO documentary Gaming Wall Street arrived in 2022 with Succession's Kieran Culkin narrating, and doco film GameStop: Rise of the Players hit the same year. Reports have also swirled about a Netflix feature starring To All the Boys' Noah Centino and written by The Hurt Locker Oscar-winner Mark Boal, and another flick called To the Moon. Whatever else does follow, this version is clearly a Gillespe joint right down to the overt needle drops, which summed up Cruella in all the wrong ways — but style and substance find a better match here. Dumb Money keeps things snappy but never too sleek; it's lively and giddy but grounded; and it's about the rise to eat the rich, not just about rich who demand eating, even if reality's revolution hasn't been that ravenous. The narrative journey is all rollercoaster, as is the stock journey — rises, falls, soaring and dipping included — and Dano's key performance straps in for it all. He's calm, earnest, determined, passionate and likeable, selling Keith's growing folk-hero status as well as the fact that he's an everyman galvanising ordinary people from his suburban home while trying to carve out a better future for his family. Dano is also excellent when dealing with Davidson as Keith's gleefully shit-stirring brother Kevin, who borrows his car without asking to make his deliveries and skims off the orders he's ferrying around. This pair constantly prove apt in the film's story in multiple ways, including by conveying eagerness for more yet not dutifully buying what capitalism is slinging. Everyone around Dano and Davidson hits their marks, albeit without as much room for depth afforded by the screenplay, but Dumb Money is all the more compelling — and right on the money — for never forgetting that this is a collective tale.
It has been a busy year for Russian incompetence, on-screen at least. After Chernobyl so blisteringly explored 1986's devastating nuclear reactor explosion and its widespread fallout, Kursk jumps forward to 2000's submarine disaster, where 118 sailors lost their lives during the sinking of a nuclear-powered vessel. The arrival of both the HBO mini-series and now this film in such short succession is a clear sign of the times — as Russia's influence, especially of the covert kind, continues to loom over world affairs, interrogating the country's high-profile misfortunes is hardly an unexpected trend. Today's filmmakers can't force certain parties in power to take Russian election meddling seriously, but they can examine how the world's largest nation by area has dealt with its own catastrophes. Kursk, like Chernobyl, doesn't provide a flattering portrait. In August 2000, as part of the first major Russian naval exercise since the fall of the Soviet Union, Oscar-class K-141 submarine Kursk descended into the ocean's depths. Although it was merely participating in training, it carried live combat weapons, including practice torpedoes — and when one exploded onboard, it set off a chain reaction that would strand the vessel at the bottom of the Barents Sea. Those who survived the initial blast were stuck waiting. First, they waited for Russian authorities to realise what had happened, which took hours. Then, as water seeped in, and supplies and oxygen dwindled, they bided their time as repeated rescue efforts floundered. Ever-protective of their military technology, and just as determined to assert that they could take care of the problem themselves, the Russian Navy even refused international assistance, making the trapped men wait longer still. That's how Thomas Vinterberg tells the tale of the Kursk, with the Danish filmmaker teaming up with Saving Private Ryan screenwriter Robert Rodat to adapt Robert Moore's non-fiction book A Time to Die. For the sake of heightened drama, some facts and timelines have been massaged, however the overall premise — that a Russian submarine sank, the country was poorly equipped to handle it and people paid with their lives — remains. So too does the notion of a nation more concerned with perception than its population; one in which citizens are expected to prove their unflinching patriotism by paying the ultimate price, but where the government won't dare risk its reputation to save them in return. Understandably, this damning truth lingers over every moment of Kursk, making an already sombre story even more so. Indeed, it's as evident on-screen as the grey colour scheme, the oppressive pressure felt in the movie's submarine scenes, and the use of different aspect ratios to send an emotional message. While he's working with a budget far beyond anything he might've dreamed of, or wanted, back when he co-founded the fiercely independent Dogme 95 cinema movement with Lars von Trier, Vinterberg is in comfortable thematic territory. Boasting a resume littered with moral quandaries, including the recent The Hunt and Far from the Madding Crowd, the writer-director has always been a keen observer of folks in a bind. That's what captain-lieutenant Mikhail Averin (Matthias Schoenaerts) and his men find themselves in, to put it mildly, as the clock ticks down and the end we all know is coming inches closer. Meanwhile, Mikhail's wife Tanya (Léa Seydoux) fights for both action and answers back above sea level, numerous admirals (Max von Sydow and Peter Simonischek, primarily) either toe or flout the government line, and offers of British help by Commodore David Russell (Colin Firth) keep falling on stubborn ears. Kursk doesn't spend enough time with any one person to be called a character study, and its broad scope necessitates more than a few shortcuts and cliches. When the movie opens with the sound of gasping breaths, only to show Mikhail timing how long his pre-teen son Misha (Artemiy Spiridonov) can stay underwater in the bathtub, it's an obvious move, for example. Still, in serving up an overview of the disaster's affected parties, and cycling between them as they endeavour to weather the horrific situation, Vinterberg's film is never less than compelling and heartbreaking. While his cast helps considerably, especially Schoenaerts and Seydoux, the director paints a powerful picture of tragedy, courage and (on the part of the Russian officials) sheer arrogance. This is a story of sailors scrambling to wade through life-or-death terror, of their loved ones refusing to kowtow to the authorities, and of the conflict bubbling beneath the rescue attempts — and it's as moving and gripping as the real-life scenario and the men lost to it demands.
When it happened, the global financial crisis wasn't funny, and frankly it still isn't. That The Big Short manages to find humour amidst the ruins is a credit to writer-director Adam McKay — even if it is a very different brand from his usual shtick, seen in Will Ferrell flicks Anchorman, Step Brothers and The Other Guys. "What else can we do but laugh?", the film asks, tell-it-like-it-is style. It's a brand of humour informed by outrage: horrified at what happened, determined to explain it and furious that little has changed. That air of impassioned incredulity suits the facts the feature concerns itself with, namely the bubble in the U.S. housing and mortgage market that very few people saw coming. It also suits the source material, a non-fiction book of the same name by Moneyball author Michael Lewis. If you're still not certain how such a film could garner laughs, that's understandable. In telling a true tale that still inspires disbelief — and sifts through some complex economic concepts in the process — The Big Short benefits from McKay's savvy stylistic choices. Accordingly, when viewers meet the rare folks who thought something was wrong prior to 2008, they're not just following a straightforward narrative. Rather, they're switching between larger-than-life players, and listening to knowing narration by Ryan Gosling in character. In between, celebrities playing themselves help break down the complicated economic jargon, while the audience is given a glimpse of society's obsession with wealth and excess through rapid, infomercial-like montages. Taken together, it paints a slick, cynical, at times farcical picture, though the details themselves remain potent. Dr Michael Burry (Christian Bale) first notices the potential for the bubble to burst and decides to bet against the market by buying credit default swaps, something that money-hungry bankers had to create because no one had asked for anything like them before. Deutsche Bank trader Jared Vennett (Ryan Gosling) starts shopping around the same products, convincing crusading hedge fund manager Mark Baum (Steve Carrell) that a collapse is imminent. Meanwhile, up-and-comers Charlie Geller (John Magaro) and Jamie Shipley (Finn Wittrock) are trying to move their garage-operated fund into the big leagues when they get wind of the situation. As the characters wait for the market to topple over, McKay delves into the shady practices that brought about such a precarious scenario. His sly tone and smart approach to the topic lays the circumstances bare in accessible terms, while making his anger perfectly clear. It's the closest a film can get to simultaneously educating, entertaining and shouting at its audience, and it makes for highly compelling viewing. The high-profile cast — which also includes Brad Pitt as a retired banker pal of Charlie and Jamie — are further weapons in McKay's arsenal. In fact, so skilled are their efforts that you might not grasp the movie's biggest joke until the end. Burry, Vennett, Baum and company might be the film's protagonists, but they're just as immersed in the fiscal mess as everyone else. In a situation where there can be no winners, they're the sympathetic parties only because they know that that's the case.
Happiness, then horror. That's what Herself's earliest moments serve up. When the gripping and poignant Irish drama opens, it's with the sight of Sandra (Claire Dunne, Spider-Man: Far From Home) being given a makeover by her two daughters Molly (Molly McCann, Vivarium) and Emma (debutant Ruby Rose O'Hara). The younger pair tenderly apply lip gloss, blush and shimmering eye shadow as they talk about their mother's under-eye birthmark, then the trio dance blissfully in the kitchen to Sia's 'Chandelier'. But Gary (Ian Lloyd Anderson, Vikings) arrives home mid-song, and he's angry. He's found a roll of cash hidden in the family's car, and he's soon unleashing his furious thoughts and unforgiving fists in response. The film cuts between the violence that follows and Emma's rushed run to a local shop to seek help for her mother — but even just seen in glimpses, the ordeal that Sandra is put through by her savage spouse is both harrowing and heartbreaking. Survivalist films typically pit humans against the elements, nature or space, frequently testing a character's endurance when they're cast adrift in the ocean (as in Kon-Tiki and All Is Lost), endeavouring to prevail in unwelcoming expanses (Into the Wild, Arctic), coming face to face with animal predators (The Grey, Crawl) or ascending to the heavens and all that it entails (Gravity, The Martian). Herself doesn't tick a single one of these boxes, but it still fits the genre. In fact, it might be one of the most essential survivalist movies yet. What else is a feature about a woman trying to escape an abusive marriage, care for her two children alone and build a safe future that's all her own, if not a story of survival? What else is Sandra doing but simply attempting to persist and persevere when she leaves Gary, then weathers the consequences — because neither life in general, nor social services and government bureaucracy specifically, are particularly hospitable to women in her situation? Herself needn't wonder what it's like to try to hold on while you're cut off from the world, or to navigate that other survivalist film staple, the post-apocalyptic realm, because it dives straight into a torturous life-or-death situation that happens every day around the globe. It's clear from the outset that Sandra and Gary's marriage hasn't been content for some time, and that she's long had the bruises to prove it. Her badly fractured hand, a marker of this latest outburst, becomes the latest physical symbol of their domestic horror, as well as the catalyst that gets Sandra to finally farewell their relationship. Forging a path forward proves complicated at every turn, however. The authorities can only house the trio in a hotel far away from the girls' school, with the wait for permanent housing expected to take years. Juggling two jobs to barely scrape by becomes even trickier and, by court order, Gary still gets weekend visits with the kids. Then, thanks to a spark of unexpected inspiration from a bedtime story, Sandra decides to try to build her own house — a €35,000 self-build that only becomes possible due to an overwhelmingly thoughtful gift from one of her bosses, Peggy (Harriet Walter, Killing Eve). Also pivotal: the kindness of a construction industry veteran Aido (Conleth Hill, near-unrecognisable from his time as Game of Thrones' Varys), who knows Gary's reputation; and all the help she can muster from friends and colleagues, plus whoever they can round up to assist as well. An actor with an extensive theatre history, Dunne turns in a phenomenally rich and vulnerable performance — one that would silence an entire room if she was on a stage, rather than on the screen. In her hands, Sandra is determined, but she also knows all too well what it's like to feel defeated. She's no longer willing to stay with her husband for their children's sake, and she can understandably barely stand to be in the same place as him, but she also mourns for what their relationship once was. She knows what's against her at every turn, she has the pluck to keep soldiering on again and again, but she's no saint or martyr. She struggles, she wavers between not knowing how to accept help and almost demanding it, and she grapples with finding her voice and her sense of agency — especially when put on the spot in court — after being robbed of both for so long. With What Richard Did's Malcolm Campbell, Dunne co-wrote Herself's script, too, and it's clear that she breathes every speck of pain, despair, diligence and fortitude that Sandra so visibly cycles through. As a writer, Dunne doesn't make easy choices. Her narrative doesn't follow a straightforward path, either. Herself's script highlights the devastating complexities that surround Sandra constantly, but it avoids plotting the obvious course — because more hopeful and more grim moments are always in everyone's futures, even when it seems that worse surely can't come. Stress, resilience, affectionate gestures and uncaring powers-that-be are all a part of this story. So is interrogating a system that's quick to push back at victims in the name of family, and showing the impact upon children who grow up in a household blighted by domestic violence. Herself fleshes out this reality, but always hurtles onwards, because that's all that Sandra can do. Worlds away from the two other features on her resume — Mamma Mia! and The Iron Lady — director Phyllida Lloyd helms an intense, compassionate but still clear-eyed drama. It's as bleak as French standout Custody, which also plunges into an abusive marriage and the impact upon both partners and children. It's also as brutal in its unflinching depiction of navigating bureaucracy as fellow Irish film Rosie, which also tells of a mother trying to find housing for her kids. And yet, without any cloying sentiment, with purposeful but never heavy-handed symbolism, and as shot with tender naturalism and an abundant wellspring of empathy, there's hope and tenacity coursing through this sensitive and compelling drama as well.
UPDATE, September 16, 2021: Streamline opened in Brisbane cinemas on Thursday, September 2, and is also available to stream via Stan from Thursday, September 16. Chasing a dream can feel like swimming through cool water on a hot summer's day — gliding, splashing and laidback paddling all included — with each refreshing stroke propelling you closer towards your own personal finish line. That's when everything is going well, of course, and when whatever your heart and mind desires seems as if it's waiting at the end of the pool. Otherwise, when you're bogged down by everyday minutiae and nothing seems to inch forward, working towards a set goal can also resemble treading water. It can mirror repetitively doing laps, too, when your destination seems out of sight despite all the hard work you're putting in. And, if you're tired and fed up with all the effort needed to even keep afloat — and when your heart is no longer in it — it can feel like floundering and drowning. In Streamline, all of these sensations and emotions bubble up for 15-year-old Benjamin Lane (Levi Miller, A Wrinkle in Time), as he pursues a professional swimming career, a spot in a prestigious squad in Brisbane and, ideally, an Olympics berth and all the glory that goes with it. Indeed, one of the delights of this Australian movie, which boasts Ian Thorpe as one of its executive producers, is how evocatively it sprinkles these swashes of feelings across the screen. Written and directed by feature first-timer Tyson Wade Johnston, Streamline is a sports drama as well as a small town-set family drama — and it's also a portrait of that time when you're expected to dive headfirst into adulthood, and into knowing what you want to do with the rest of your life, but you're also inescapably wracked with uncertainty and apprehension. Teenage awkwardness and angst aren't simple states to capture on-screen, although enough coming-of-age movies have been buoyed by both; however, Streamline opts to plunge deep into the existential stress that goes beyond feeling out of place with your peers or being annoyed at your parents. Its protagonist, who everyone just calls Boy, only really connects with his girlfriend and best friend Patti (Tasia Zalar, Mystery Road) at school. And, he's definitely mad at his mother and father. He resents his single mum Kim's (Laura Gordon, Undertow) efforts to keep him focused, which he sees as controlling rather than nurturing. He's doing tumble turns internally over his dad Rob (Jason Isaacs, Creation Stories), who's just been released from prison and has never been a positive influence in his life. Boy is also furious at his surrogate father figure, Coach Clarke (Robert Morgan, The Secrets She Keeps), for all the cajoling that coaches tend to give. But, mostly the swimming prodigy is unsure — about what he wants, what he's been told he wants and what to do next. Streamline takes ample cues from sports flicks and the usual formula behind them, with big races, the pressure to succeed and the push to impress the right people to score the best opportunities driving much of the narrative alongside training and its tussles. But as this emotionally astute film explores the tension and trepidation swelling inside Boy — the kind that only worsens whenever his dad is mentioned, let alone turns up, and also ramps up as he spends time self-destructing with his hard-drinking, loutish older half-brothers Dave (Jake Ryan, Savage) and Nick (Sam Parsonson, Operation Buffalo) — it taps into themes that've been washing through Australian cinema with increasing frequency over the past decade or so. In movies such as Animal Kingdom, Snowtown, Buoyancy and 1%, young men struggle to carve their own paths, or even just to survive or avoid following in damaging footsteps, all in the lingering shadow of violence. Shades of late-90s great The Boys also filter through when Streamline's Boy is with his siblings, but this measured and moving picture is never merely the sum of its influences, even as it adds more flawed and fractured males to the nation's cinematic canon. Navigating this sea of toxic masculinity, Miller manages to convey many traits that fit the mould — Boy can be arrogant, reckless, careless with other people's feelings, moody, unwilling to express what's simmering within and combative — and also show his character's pain, conflict, yearning and vulnerability. It's a stellar performance, as well as a difficult one; the best work of the young actor's career so far, it's also likely to keep the Pan, Better Watch Out and Jasper Jones star in weightier roles moving forward. There isn't a weak link among the cast, though, but the film's standout moments all come when Miller is in front of the lens. A particular sense of power emanates in his scenes with Isaacs, and therefore with the man that Boy has been devastatingly hurt by and yet still finds himself drawn to. The two actors both played the same person but at varying ages in the vastly dissimilar Red Dog: True Blue, but now they play different points on a spectrum that neither wants Boy to slide down. Contrasting the rigours of seeking perfection with the toll it takes, Streamline submerges itself in its lead character's journey visually as well. This is a melancholy movie in tone and appearance, with hues of blue hovering in frame after frame. Those shades often emanate from the water, obviously, given that it has such a pivotal part in Boy's days and dramas — but when they continue to pop up elsewhere, they also exude the sorrow of a teen who realises he doesn't know how to either keep or to stop doing what he's doing. Cinematographer Michael Latham shot the aforementioned Buoyancy, too, and gave The Assistant, Island of the Hungry Ghosts, Strange Colours and Casting JonBenet their exacting, evocative and also piercing looks, with his efforts here continuing the trend. Indeed, watching Streamline feels like plummeting into a brooding well not only emotionally, thematically and narratively, but aesthetically. Sometimes chasing a dream is like that, too, as this excellent Aussie drama also recognises.
The best joke in The Boss is the one that no one talks about. Whatever Michelle Darnell (Melissa McCarthy) is wearing, her outfit includes a turtleneck jumper pulled up over her chin. Whether it's meant to be slimming or is simply an eccentric style option, it looks as ridiculous as it sounds — and while there's no avoiding the silly sartorial sight that greets viewers every time the protagonist graces the screen, the unusual clothing choice is actually among the film's most subtle elements. The fact that it remains hilarious while never earning a mention or explanation is refreshing, particularly in a movie that takes every other chance it can to either state or rely upon the obvious. At the beginning of the film, which McCarthy co-wrote with her director husband Ben Falcone, Darnell is a self-made titan of business. After wheeling and dealing her way to the top, she's the 47th wealthiest woman in America, and at the filling stadiums, splashing cash around and dispensing self-help advice stage of her career. Alas, all it takes is an insider trading charge and a stint in prison for her fame and fortune to disappear. With nowhere to go upon her release, Darnell turns to her former assistant Claire (Kristen Bell) to help get her life back on track — and seizes upon a brownie-selling opportunity inspired by Claire's young daughter Rachel (Ella Anderson). The Boss is an awkward film, and not just because it pairs a predictable storyline with clumsily inserted scenes of outlandish behaviour. It's the kind of movie in which school girls brawl with their mothers in the street, and swearing and physical antics are presented as the height of comedy. Yet the bulk of the awkwardness stems from McCarthy herself. Arguably The Boss ranks alongside The Heat and Spy as one of the actresses better starring roles, but with Identity Thief and Tammy also on her resume, that's not saying much. As committed as she remains to doing whatever it takes to garner laughs, there's no escaping the feeling that she's done it all before. The fact is, audiences may well be getting tired of watching McCarthy bear the brunt of violence, become the butt of jokes and deliver expletive-filled dialogue. Showcasing rather than stretching the energetic performer's many talents is the movie's main aim, however it actually fares best in quieter, less exaggerated moments. There's an astuteness and understanding in the ever-changing dynamic between McCarthy and Bell, even if the latter frequently threatens to steal the show from the former. Dissecting the ways women can both come together and tear each other apart, their exchanges provide The Boss with its much-needed heart. Of course, such moments of depth are few and far between, as is demonstrated by McCarthy's other main adversarial relationship with an over-the-top Peter Dinklage as her ex-boyfriend turned rival. That the end result proves a jumble of earnest sentiment, too-easy gags, one-dimensional characters and inconsistent absurdity is hardly surprising. But at least there's always those unexplained turtlenecks to keep you chuckling.
Over the last few years, we've seen a certain literary crime-solver follow the action-packed route with Robert Downey Jr, then stalk around modern-day London as Benedict Cumberbatch, and head to America in the guise of Jonny Lee Miller. We've seen Sherlock Holmes in his prime, puzzling over clues and cracking cases. We've seen him save the day, struggle against a nemesis or two and even shoulder a few rough patches. What we haven't seen is the famous "elementary!"-exclaiming figure later in life — well, until now that is. Enter Mr. Holmes, an effort that explores what comes next for the cantankerous detective with the brilliant analytical mind. Set in 1947 and adhering to the original timeline for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's creation, the latest filmic take on the ace investigator sees him older, wiser and a little worse for wear. His deductive skills still put others to shame, but his 93-year-old memory is failing. After a trip to Japan, Sherlock (Ian McKellen) returns to his seaside farmhouse buoyed with hope that he's found the answer to his ailing state; yet even his great intellect can't conjure a solution to getting long in the tooth. As he attempts to gather his wits to write his own version of his last-ever case, he shares his knowhow with Roger (Milo Parker), the young son of his housekeeper (Laura Linney), with the boy eager to learn everything he can from his idol. Watson might be absent, and Baker Street isn't a primary place of interest, but no rendering of the legendary detective would be complete without a cryptic situation (or several) to unravel. Just don't expect a traditional whodunit, because that's what this film is not. Piecing together the tale Holmes is jotting down — as well as the secretive details of his recent overseas jaunt — actually prove the feature's least intriguing parts. In a film that's more character study than mystery, the real enigma in need of untangling is Sherlock himself. Other recent screen incarnations have fleshed out the person behind the reputation, though not in such a delicate and delightful fashion as McKellen's hobbling, grumbling curmudgeon. His super sleuth isn't just a formidable brain packaged with some unsociable traits; he's a fragile elderly man facing a short future while looking back on a life he's no longer all that certain about. It feels fitting, then, that director Bill Condon lets his star steal the show in their second collaboration after 1998's acclaimed Gods and Monsters. In adapting Mitch Cullin's novel A Slight Trick of the Mind and trawling through its driving theme of accepting mortality, the filmmaker hones in not just on matters of the busy head, but those of the unfulfilled heart — and he has the perfect lead for the job. Condon also boasts a fine eye for the warm hues needed to colour Mr. Holmes' interpretation of the icon's golden years, and a feel for the stately rhythm required for what amounts to a hero's last chapter. Yes, his film is old in its protagonist and old-fashioned in its nature, but it's also an elegant, enjoyable alternative to the recent spate of rousing revisionist takes. That dispelling myths about the fictional hero becomes the film's running joke speaks to the vibe he's going for — and when it comes to Sherlock on screen, it's a vibe that's more than welcome.
If there was still some question over who leads the current revival of superhero movies, you can stop your pop-culture equivocating now. It's Iron Man. It's always been Iron Man. With the release of Iron Man 3, probably the best film of the trilogy, all the other Avengers can fall into line and that over-earnest heavy breather should sulk in his cave/villa in Provence. The Iron Mans have always innately had the superhero secret formula, combining the wry delivery of Robert Downey Jr, plots that aren't totally dumb, eye-popping action, a contemporary sense of cool detachment and the observance of canonical Marvel comics tradition. Then there's the fact that Tony Stark, Iron Man's alter ego, is a wealthy tech geek, not a jock (a seemingly prescient move on behalf of legendary comics creator Stan Lee back in 1963). Iron Man 3 has all this — but it is even funnier and more balls-out thrillingly action-packed than its predecessors. New writer/director Shane Black (who worked with Downey Jr in Kiss Kiss Bang Bang) keeps the film tonally in the same ballpark as forerunner Jon Favreau, but perhaps his take on Tony is even more endearingly unpredictable. Iron Man 3 isn't quite the famous 'Demon in a Bottle' alcoholism storyline, but one of Tony's nemeses in this instalment is definitely himself. He's shaken after travelling through a wormhole in an apocalyptic battle (it's worth being up to speed on the Marvel franchise before this trip to the cinema), he's feeling redundant now the government has their own 'Iron Patriot' (Don Cheadle), he's anxious, he's obsessive, and he's vulnerable. Into this mess step villains who are both corporeal and terrifying: a terrorist leader with digital prowess known as the Mandarin (Ben Kingsley) and a spurned scientist, Aldrich Killian (Guy Pearce), who commands an army of what are essentially fire monsters. In the hypothetical extended game of rock-paper-scissors, fire usually beats iron. Iron Man 3 is not without its ridiculousness. A big theme is the abilities of superheros when stripped of their suits — and here it seems those abilities are still pretty super. Tony and James 'Iron Patriot' Rhodes both display outrageous brawn (as well as their usual level of brains, of course) in just their jeans and hoodies. And while the final battle is epic and enthralling, it does have a whiff of the ol' 'why didn't they just do this from the beginning?' to it. These are quibbles — a half-star's deduction, maximum. And that half-star is won back by the brilliant path down which Iron Man 3 takes its villains. This is a slick, inspired fantasy-adventure that almost anyone can enjoy. May Marvel Studios sign Downey Jr and co for many sequels to come. https://youtube.com/watch?v=Ke1Y3P9D0Bc
UPDATE, January 27, 2021: Savage is available to stream via Stan and Amazon Video. Tattoos covering his cheeks, nose and forehead, a scowl affixed almost as permanently, but raw sorrow lurking in his eyes, Jake Ryan cuts a striking sight in Savage. He's a walking, drinking, growling, hammer-swinging advertisement for toxic masculinity — how it looks at its most stereotypical extreme, and how it often masks pain and struggle — and the performance is the clear highlight of the Home and Away, Wolf Creek and Underbelly actor's resume to-date. Playing a character named Danny but also known as Damage, Ryan also perfectly epitomises the New Zealand gang drama he's in, which similarly wraps in-your-face packaging around a softer, richer core. Savage's protagonist and plot have had plenty of predecessors over the years in various ways, from Once Were Warriors' exploration of violence, to Mean Streets' chronicle of crime-driven youth, plus the bikie warfare of TV's Sons of Anarchy and even Aussie film 1%, but there's a weightiness on display here that can't just be wrung from a formula. That said, although first-time feature director and screenwriter Sam Kelly takes inspiration from NZ's real-life gangs, and from true tales from within their ranks spanning three decades, Savage does noticeably follow a predictable narrative path. Viewers first meet Danny in 1989, when he's the second-in-charge of the Savages, which is overseen by his lifelong best friend Moses (John Tui, Fast & Furious: Hobbs & Shaw, Solo: A Star Wars Story) but is also under threat by rank-and-file members agitating for a leadership challenge. In-fighting, and Moses' sheer desperation to remain on top, aren't Danny's biggest issues, however. Whether imposing the ramifications of being disloyal upon a younger colleague or being unable to relinquish control in an intimate situation, he's both tightly wound and silently aching, and he's also unable to shake the cumulative effect of all the factors and decisions that have led him to this testosterone-saturated point. A series of flashbacks, each fittingly moody and tense, explain why Danny is in his current situation physically, mentally and emotionally. The film first jumps to 1965, when he's nine (played by Pete's Dragon's Olly Presling), victimised by his overbearing father and sent to juvenile detention, where he initially meets and befriends a young, wild-haired Moses (Lotima Pome'e). The circumstances leading to Danny's stint in custody and his treatment while he's there each leave an imprint, with Moses swiftly becoming the only person that he can count on. Skipping forward to 1972, when the pair are in their late teens (played by James Matamua and Haanz Fa'avae-Jackson), they establish the Savages — and, although it gives them a sense of belonging that's absent elsewhere, they're soon caught in a Wellington turf war with a rival gang. Yes, all of the above narrative elements have a well-worn feel to them, but a blandly, routinely by-the-numbers flick isn't the end result here. Aided by suitably gritty and restless camerawork that mirrors Danny's inner turmoil, the film packs a punch when it lets that unease fester in quiet moments. It's also particularly astute when honing in on Danny and Moses's complicated friendship, and how pivotal it is throughout their constantly marginalised lives. There's never any doubting that Savage is a movie about family, including the traumas they can inflict, the hurt that comes with being torn away from loved ones at a young age, the kinship found in understanding pals and the concept of brotherhood in gangs, and the feature is at its most affecting when it lets these truths emanate naturally. Kelly does like to stress the point, though, and to do overtly. Indeed, the clunkiest parts of Savage involve Danny's yearning to see his mother and his tussles with his older brother Liam (played by Jack William Parker as a teen and Seth Flynn as an adult). Every year Danny, stands outside his childhood home, looks on at his parents and siblings and, unable to step into the yard, notches a mark on the fence outside — and it's an instantly and repeatedly overdone touch. When he's reunited with Liam, it's because the two brothers are in opposing crews, another obvious, template-esque inclusion that's far less effective or moving than seeing how Danny navigates the gang he has chosen as his new family. Unsurprisingly, Danny's gang life is brutal and violent, which Savage doesn't shy away from in a visual sense. Tonally, the film aims for Shakespearian levels of tragedy, too, as Sons of Anarchy did before it. But while most of the feature hits its marks, draws viewers in and keeps them interested, the movie's biggest force and asset is always Ryan. Tui also proves a commanding screen presence, as does first-timer Alex Raivaru as the latter's nemesis, while young Presling and Pome'e share a convincing rapport. When an actor plays the kind of immediately imposing role that Ryan is tasked with, however, how they handle the subtler side of the character is pivotal — and audiences can feel Danny's bubbling distress even when he's the most formidable figure figure in the room. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NK3eDfkXBzg Top image: Domino Films, Matt Grace.
Ever had a hankering for a burger, but couldn't decide which joint to visit? Thanks to Brisbane's hefty array of burg-slinging places, we've all been there — and often. Thankfully, The Triffid came up with a solution a few years back: Brisbane Burger Fest, which is returning again in 2023 from 11am on Saturday, June 24. Wondering about the festival's burger credentials? Ze Pickle, Fritzenberger, Brooklyn Depot, Hashtag Burgers & Waffles and Remy's will all whip up their usual favourites. Embracing the occasion in the tastiest way possible, they'll be making a few special and exclusive Burger Fest creations as well. There'll also be an official burger-eating competition as part of the festivities (of course there will be), which pits regular burger-lovers up against the pros. If you don't think you can handle taking part in the contest, that's okay — everyone at Burger Fest will be seeing how many burgs they can eat in their own way, after all. And, attendees can look forward to plenty more to keep you entertained beyond eating burgers, including a beer pong tournament. [caption id="attachment_780426" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Hennessy Trill[/caption] Making a burger party even better, the event will be showcasing live music from Melaleuca, Radium Dolls, The Dandys, Lucid Safari, Pipin and Bean Magazine, as well as Echo Wave, Fleur Fatale, Demi Casha and Huxley & Friel. Drinks-wise, Stone & Wood and Heaps Normal will be taking care of the beers — boozy and not-so — and Burger Festival cocktails are also on the menu, including a Bundy dark and stormy. Tickets cost $15 — and if past years are any guide, they're expected to get snapped up quickly. Top image: Brooklyn Depot.
There’s whisky and then there’s whisky — but can you tell the difference? Jim McEwan certainly can. A veteran of over 50 years in the business, working his way up to Bruichladdich’s master distiller, he knows cheap liquor from the top-of-the-line, put-hairs-on-your-chest tipples certain to get mouths watering. McEwan is stopping by The Gresham to share knowledge from a life lived with delicious amber spirits — accompanied by a sampling menu, of course. For two hours, one of the best-known figures in the industry will discuss whiskies many aficionados have only dreamed of, including the experimental Octomore 6.1, distilled from the most heavily peated barley humanly possible. It is little wonder, then, that The Jim McEwan Whisky Experience is being dubbed a once-in-a-lifetime treat. When else will the only three-time winner of the Whisky Distiller of the Year award impart his tricks of the trade, after all, with drinks to match?
Any time that you step inside West End's Chu the Phat, you can order up a banquet, get cosy and comfortable, and eat your way through multiple dishes. On Sundays, however, you have an extra reason to say cheers to this hefty feast — and that'd be the two hours of drinks that come with the package. Running from 12–9pm each week, Chu the Phat's Super Sundays promise to keep your stomach satisfied and ensure that you don't go thirsty. It's a gather-the-gang type of special, because that's what the last day of the weekend is all about, and it'll cost you $50 a person. While you're tucking into the eatery's banquet, you'll be munching on steamed duck buns, vegetable spring rolls, chilli chicken and braised beef, as well as vegetable crackers, stir-fried pork and steamed greens. Beverage-wise, you can choose between spritzes, selected beers and wine, and a range of non-boozy tipples.
For decades, beer commercials have told us that a hard-earned thirst needs a big, cold beer. Perhaps it needs a big tourist attraction to hang out at while you're drinking, too? In the type of fun you definitely couldn't enjoy onsite when you went north with your parents as a kid, a day-long craft beer and cider expo is coming to The Big Pineapple. More than 30 breweries and cideries will be on-site, serving up more than 100 different types of tipples — so you definitely won't leave thirsty. You can also knock back wine, cocktails and sparkling as well, and line your stomach with meals from more than ten food vendors, including low-and-slow cooked meats. Plus, live music is part of the fun too, giving your sipping and sightseeing a soundtrack. The Big Pineapple Craft Beer and Cider Expo takes place from midday on Saturday, September 14, with pre-sale tickets available now from $25. Image: Anne and David via Flickr.
After enlivening previous Brisbane Festivals with Blanc de Blanc and LIMBO, Strut & Fret are back with their latest theatrical fun. A world premiere production designed specifically for the South Bank Piazza, FUN HOUSE promises to live up to its name by throwing a huge house party — with acrobatics, circus stunts, physical theatre and more. And when we say more, we mean a jumping castle. With YouTube sensation Pogo on DJing duties, this interactive show turns its venue into a playground, and turns attendees into willing participants. It's also one of two S&F efforts in this year's lineup, with Bris Fest also hosting the sizzling party sequel that is LIMBO UNHINGED.
A couple of hours south of Cairns is where you'll find the spectacular sights of Tully Gorge National Park. The Tully River churns its way down the mountain creating rapids and world-class white water rafting throughout this stunning gorge. But it's not all rough and tumble in at every turn along this river. You have two options to find Ponytail Falls — by car or by raft with Raging Thunder Adventures. For drivers, follow signs to Cardstone Weir until you spot the number 11 painted on the road. Then, take a short stroll through the rainforest to uncover the hair-like spout that spills into pale blue water below. Or, if you want to see the falls from a raft, sign up to a white water rafting adventure and a guide will take you there via wet and wild rapids.
Walkabout Cultural Adventures is a 100 percent First Nations-owned and operated cultural tour company based on Kuku Yalanji Country, also known as Port Douglas and the Daintree. Owner Juan Walker has been working in the region for nearly two decades and prides himself on offering informative and personalised tours to all guests. Under Juan's expert guidance, you'll discover the wonders of Kuku Yalanji Country, including where two World Heritage-listed sites — the Daintree Rainforest and the Great Barrier Reef — meet. The half or full-day tours will give you the opportunity to learn about food and medicines grown in the region and how Kuku Yalanji people have managed the land and its natural resources for millennia. You'll also get to sample bush foods, collect shellfish and try your luck at catching delicious mud crab.
Disney is back in the fairy princess business, and by god it wants you to know it. Except, it doesn’t want young boys to know it, which is why this film is called Frozen instead of The Snow Queen. When Disney finally bought Pixar in 2006, the deal essentially saw Pixar's creative team taking control of Disney’s animated output. Given the strong quality control Pixar has over its products, this was no bad thing. But not all of the experiments worked. Determined to resurrect Disney's tradition of hand-drawn animation, they made The Princess and the Frog in 2009, a tremendously underrated film which moved the classic tale to 1920s New Orleans. The film’s undeserved financial failing made Disney gunshy, and their takeaway was this: stick to computer animation, and no more princesses in the titles. In fairness, this shift didn’t kneecap the quality of the films. 2009’s Rapunzel film Tangled is an outstanding work, with rich characters, beautiful animation and incredibly catchy songs. Tangled really worked, which is why it appears to be the template Disney has used for its newest animated feature, Frozen. Based loosely on Hans Christian Andersen’s The Snow Queen — a story Disney has been trying to adapt since the 1940s — the film follows Anna and her sister Elsa, two princesses who are left alone when their parents die at sea. The relationship between the two is difficult: Elsa has magical powers, which due to an unsatisfactorily explained plot contrivance, have been wiped from Anna’s memory. To keep Anna safe, Else keeps her at arm’s length as they grow up. But on the evening of Elsa’s coronation, she accidentally creates a permanent winter in the kingdom and retreats to a remote ice palace of her own making. It’s up to Anna to save her sister and her kingdom. The parallels with Tangled are striking. Both changed the name of their original story to a more marketable, generic title. Both feature a similar working-class man developing a love-hate relationship with a princess. Both have a crazy, anthropomorphised horse/moose for company. Both even feature a princess whose power is represented by a streak of colour through the hair. The comparisons, though superficial, reveal an attempt at a modern formula. And although Frozen is enjoyable enough, the characters aren’t quite as engaging as they ought to be, the songs not quite memorable enough. The animation, however, is superb. On a technical level, it’s a marvel. Frozen represent the middle of the bell curve in terms of animated features. It’s a far cry from the insufferable toy-selling, pop-culture spewing, catchphrase-ridden films churned out during at the beginning every school holiday period, but nor does it hit the heights of Disney’s best output. It is admirable, enjoyable, but ultimately unmemorable.
Until the end of August, Northshore Hamilton is an impressionist wonderland, with stunning exhibition Monet in Paris projecting the French artist's work — and that of his contemporaries — all over its walls. A visit to the event's 2500-square-metre Grand Palais doesn't just mean staring at some of the best art ever created as it hangs, however. Like Van Gogh Alive before it, this showcase is a multi-sensory experience, with everything from Monet's Water Lilies to Edgar Degas' ballerinas being given an immersive spin. Here's another way to make the most of this stunning event, which is a global debut: picking up a paintbrush and whipping out your creative skills yourself. Take inspiration from the exhibition's dazzling art at Paint Like Monet, regular paint-and-sip sessions in the best surroundings possible. Happening on various dates — sometimes on Tuesday nights, sometimes on Thursday afternoons and sometimes on Saturday evenings — these classes include an hour walking around Monet in Paris. Then, it's easel time. Equipment is supplied, as is a glass of champagne, so you can unleash your inner Monet, Degas, Camille Pissarro, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Paul Cézanne, Berthe Morisot, Mary Cassatt and more. This is a gather-the-gang type of experience or a date-night go-to, with tickets costing $280 for two people. Images: Axis Productions.
This year's Oscar winner for best documentary, Free Solo took viewers into the nerve-wracking world of rock climbing, charting Alex Honnold's epic quest to scale Yosemite's El Capitan without ropes. But he's not the only superstar climber endeavouring to literally rise to great heights — and the film about him wasn't the only rock climbing doco to reach the big screen recently. Last year, another movie called The Dawn Wall started doing the rounds, chronicling another couple of daredevils. Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgeson are also considered among the globe's best climbers, and their feats are mighty impressive. Now they're coming to Australia to talk about their efforts. On Monday, July 29, the duo will take to the stage at the QPAC Concert Hall — providing live commentary while The Dawn Wall plays on the big screen, chatting about just why they do what they do, and answering all of your other questions. It's their first time in the country, and they'll talk you through their inspirations, motivations and, again, why they took on the world's hardest rock climb. This goes without saying, especially if you're not fond of heights, but prepare to be both in awe and mighty tense. Image: Brett Lowell.
Take a boat from Cairns to this secluded eco-friendly escape on the cusp of the reef that has held and advanced ecotourism certification for over 20 years. Green Island Resort sits in the tropical habitat of a coral cay and rainforest and implements a number of innovative sustainability initiatives to limit waste and protect the pristine natural environment where it's located. A quarter of the island's energy supply comes from solar power and the resort is working towards closing the loop in its waste management. This includes things like turning food waste into nutrient rich fertiliser and using a glass crusher that turns bottles into sand. Plus, raised timber boardwalks allow you to explore the national park with minimal impact on wildlife and tree root systems. Image: Tourism Tropical North Queensland.
The British Film Festival might only be six years old, but this year's event comes with a considerable sense of history. It's there in the fest's opening night film, Collette, which stars Keira Knightley as 19th-century French novelist Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette. It's evident in a four-movie tribute that'll blow the bloody cinema doors off, showcasing the work and career of Michael Caine. And, it's obvious in closing night's Stan & Ollie, with Steve Coogan and John C. Reilly as one of cinema's greatest double acts: British comedian Stan Laurel and his American counterpart Oliver Hardy. Dramatic true tales about Oscar Wilde, Virginia Woolf and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart all keep the theme going, as do real-life spy thriller Red Joan with Judi Dench and the Idris Elba-directed, 70s and 80s-set Jamaican gangster movie Yardie. There's also a retrospective dedicated to Brit flicks from the swinging sixties, plus Peterloo — the latest effort from seven-time Oscar nominated writer/director Mike Leigh, which focuses on a working-class demonstration in Manchester in 1819. Screening at Brisbane's Palace Barracks and Palace Centro between Wednesday, October 24 and Wednesday, November 14 (with a few extra days always tacked on at the end to replay the most popular titles), the 2018 BFF boasts plenty of other highlights — and genres and stars as well. Catch a Scottish Christmas-themed teen-zombie-musical-comedy courtesy of Anna and the Apocalypse, and watch Rob Brydon go synchronised swimming (yes, really) in Swimming with Men. Or, see Star Wars' Daisy Ridley, Harry Potter's Tom Felton and Clive Owen take on Shakespeare in Ophelia, a reworking of Hamlet.
'I Miss You' isn't just the name of a beloved blink-182 song. It isn't just a track they're busting out on their 2024 tour Down Under, either. It's also the vibe being felt around the band in general, based on how popular tickets to its 2024 Australian and New Zealand tour have been proving — but there's still seats available. In 2022, blink-182 revealed that they were reforming their classic lineup of Tom DeLonge, Mark Hoppus and Travis Barker, then hitting the road — and that Aussie fans would get their chance to see the end result live in February 2024. Brisbane's dates, at the Brisbane Entertainment Centre with Rise Against in support: Monday, February 19–Wednesday, February 21. For three decades, blink-182 have been the voice inside punk and rock fans' heads, especially in the late 90s and early 00s thanks to albums Enema of the State and Take Off Your Pants and Jacket. Accordingly, expect to hear everything from 'Dammit' and 'The Rockshow' to 'What's My Age Again?' and 'All the Small Things' live. Now that they're back together after DeLonge left the band in 2015, blink-182 are also recording new music together, with single 'Edging' out now — and on the setlist.
Set your GPS to The Record Exchange, then let all notions of modern technology melt away at this nostalgic musical mecca on Adelaide Street in Brisbane's CBD. Home to some 250,000 records (no, that's not a typo) and over 10,000 CDs, the store is an ideal spot to while away an hour, browsing the latest new releases and getting nostalgic with a look through the retro gems. If you've got some musical gems lurking in your CD wallet or record crate, The Record Exchange buys and trades. So gather up your old CDs and get down there on Thursday afternoon. Flick through some vinyl and pick yourself up some analogue tunes while you're at it. Image: Anwyn Howarth.
Meet death — and no, that's not going to be anywhere near as grim as it sounds. In Mort, death is a seven-foot tall skeleton who loves cats, of course. He also offers the titular young man a job as his apprentice. So unravels a stage incarnation of a beloved novel first published in 1987, and one that proves as funny and fantastical today as it was then. The lead character is keen on the free board and lodging part of his new profession, but trouble brews when he's left in charge for an evening and steps outside the bounds of duty for a princess. As the latest in Brisbane Arts Theatre's series of Discworld works, Mort also comes with a sliver of sadness this time around. With the book's author, Terry Pratchett, passing away in March this year, crying while you're laughing is completely understandable.
Brisbane's penchant for a party boat has a long history, from The Island to Seadeck and now Yot Club. Haven't had the joy of revelling on the water while cruising down the river? Give it a try for Halloween. Yot Club has been making quite a big splash, as you'd expect from a huge yacht with two bars, a stage, a dance floor and a 400-person capacity. The glamorous, custom-built vessel calls itself "the world's first super yacht entertainment venue", and it's certainly something that southeast Queensland hadn't seen before it hit our waters. Sprawling over two levels, it measures nearly 40-metres long and over 22-metres wide, and blends a licensed floating club and a luxe function space. With lounges across an open deck and undercover, a VIP room in the hull, and the promise of bands and DJs on its lineup, Yot Club wants to be the region's one-stop watery hangout. It serves up more than water, of course, thanks to a menu of classic and creative cocktails, plus brews chilled in the 45-keg-capacity cool room. Yot Club sets off from City Botanic Gardens River Hub — and its Halloween bash on Friday, October 27 includes spooky-themed cocktails, a photo booth to snap all those costumes and prizes for best dressed as well. Yes, you do need to don something to suit the occasion to hop onboard; "only guests in full costume will be allowed on the cruise," the venue advises. Prices vary, starting at entry from $49.95 with drinks and food purchased separately, and also including a $99.95 option with a sip upon arrival. Images: Richard Greenwood / Yot Club.
Before 2020 hit, anyone who found themselves in the Brisbane CBD on a Friday was bound to have plenty of company. But after a year of lockdowns, social-distancing measures and modifying routines in response to the pandemic, the city centre isn't the thriving hub of activity it once was when the working week comes to an end. To bring more folks back into the city — and to get them to spend more money to support the CBD's businesses while they're there — the Property Council of Australia has unveiled a new initiative. Called Fridays in the City, it kicks off today, Friday, May 21, and runs through until Friday, June 25. And if you're a nine-to-five worker, it means that you can get excited about free coffees, cheap lunches, rooftop exercise classes and more. Different activities and offers are available in different parts of the inner city, so you're likely to find something that appeals to you. If spending as little cash on a meal or drinks as possible tempts your tastebuds (and your wallet), the Myer Centre is doing $2 deals from 12–3pm, while Vapiano is slinging a $15 special that includes either a pasta bake or pizza foldover and a soft drink until 5pm. Aquila Caffe Bar is dishing up $30 pizza and jug combos, and Grape Therapy is serving up free olives and chips with every drink purchase between 4–5pm. Fancy a free coffee? Nespresso will be handing them out in the Wintergarden, but only one specific Friday — between 12–4pm on Friday, May 28. But, because office buildings are also taking part in the initiative, workers at some CBD addresses will be able to score free cuppas and snacks onsite every week — at 40 Tank Street, 85 George Street, 343 Albert Street, 61 Mary Street, Brisbane Square, 69 Ann Street, 275 George Street, 32 Turbot Street and 175 Eagle Street. A heap of other specific buildings are hosting various giveaways and events in their lobbies, too, including Waterfront Place and Eagle Street Pier. At 100 Creek Street and Central Plaza, there'll be games and live music — and at 111 Eagle Street and Riverside Centre, free gelato and popcorn will be available on certain dates in June. Some of the Fridays in the City deals and freebies are only on offer to workers in those buildings, so you might turn up and find a surprise. Other events are open to everyone, such as Goodlife's free 11.30am and 12.30pm fitness classes in Post Office Square, plus Glowing Yoga's rooftop class atop the Wintergarden on June 18. For the full list, head to the initiative's website. [caption id="attachment_812924" align="aligncenter" width="1920"] Kgbo via Wikimedia Commons[/caption] Announcing the campaign, Property Council Queensland Deputy Executive Director Jen Williams said that it's all about helping boost foot traffic on "the best day of the working week". She continued: "People are more relaxed, and workers are more likely to go shopping, knock off early for a drink, or meet up with friends for dinner at a restaurant after work. However, since the pandemic Fridays haven't been the same. According to the Property Council's office occupancy data, people tend to opt to work from home on Mondays and Fridays, meaning the CBD is noticeably quieter than during the middle of the week." The Property Council launched a similar initiative in Melbourne earlier this month, called FOMO Fridays. Fridays in the City runs each Friday between May 21–June 25. For further details, head to the initiative's website. Top image: Kgbo via Wikimedia Commons.
