Sometimes the cheesy photos that grace a lot of the fodder news stories in our daily newspapers make me cringe. Nah, I take that back. They always make me cringe. Too-carefully-composed images make the pages of an apparently prestigious paper look like the print version of A Current Affair. Is the art of photojournalism dead? Certainly not. Want proof? Find it at World Press Photo ’11. It’s the world’s leading international competition in press photography, which last year attracted over 108, 059 entries from 5, 961 photographers. The jury whittled the entries down and awarded prizes to 54 photographers, including three Australians (phew! There’s still hope for us yet). Look out for World Press Photo of the Year – awarded to South African photographer Jodi Bieber for her portrait of 18 year-old Afghani woman Bibi Aisha. After fleeing her husband’s house complaining of violent treatment, the Taliban found Aisha and brought her back to her husband’s family for punishment. Bieber’s won eight World Press Photo awards previously – local photographers, this is a Bieber you’ll want to look up to. The World Press Photo exhibition contains images that may offend – it’s recommended for patrons 15 years and older. Image credit: ‘The Flying Cholitas, Bolivia’ by Daniele Tamagni, via Brisbane Powerhouse
Not content with filling the Gallery of Modern Art's walls with her intriguing creatures, artist Patricia Piccinini is filling GOMA's cinema with matching flicks as well. At the Curious Affection film program, the silver screen will shine with empathetic monster movies, science-fiction wonders, horror efforts and everything in-between — from the most famous (and often incorrectly referenced) reassembled collection of body parts ever seen on celluloid, to '80s teenagers dreaming of creepy rabbits, to this year's best picture Oscar winner. Yes, the lineup does include Frankenstein, Donnie Darko and The Shape of Water, but that's really just the beginning. Touching upon the themes of monstrous beauty, otherworldly encounters, companion species and earthly survival, its a broad and beautifully curated selection that throws up the only Brisbane cinema screenings of Bong Joon-ho's Okja and Ryan Gosling's Lost River to date, a futuristic double bill of Blade Runner and Blade Runner 2049, and the Australian premiere of Jan Švankmajer's Insects. Other highlights include David Lynch's Eraserhead and The Elephant Man, Werner Herzog's The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser and Grizzly Man, and Hayao Miyazaki's My Neighbor Totoro, plus everything from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, The Jungle Book and Nightbreed to Picnic at Hanging Rock, The Lobster and Raw. And then there's Roar, which was filmed in Africa amidst dozens of actual untrained lions, and is now considered one of the most dangerous movies ever made.
At the end of September, Newstead farewelled a recent favourite, with City Winery pop-up Carl's Bar and Bistro closing its doors on Wyandra Street as part of a move to a yet-to-be-revealed new location. But the team that gave Brisbane its first inner-city winery isn't done with the space, or with pop-ups there. Ahead of a new concept that'll also focus on vino — unsurprisingly — the crew has launched a temporary seasonal bar and bottleshop for the holiday period. Dubbed City Winery Christmas Pop-Up, the Wyandra Street site is currently serving wines by the glass, cheese and charcuterie, and pintxos-style bites — and selling bottles for customers to take home. So, you can stop in for a drink and something to eat, chat about ace vino and nab something for your wine rack. The pop-up is operating six days a week, from 3pm Tuesday–Friday and from midday on Saturdays and Sundays — with public holiday closures from December 25–27 and January 1–2 — and is likely to stick around until the end of January. When it says farewell, the City Winery team will move onto renovating the venue for that aforementioned new concept, with details about what'll settle into the space permanently still under wraps. While City Winery opened its doors in Fortitude Valley three years back, the Wyandra Street address has been in use for four, with Carl's initially starting as a pop-up before City Winery's Wandoo Street flagship launched. It proved so popular, however, that the hole-in-the-wall wine bar and bistro stuck around until outgrowing the venue. Hence the move, with City Winery co-founder Adam Penberthy still looking at new spaces when Carl's finished trading at its OG home. For now, patrons at Carl's short-term successor can expect Australian wines aplenty, as well as a curated selection of European drops. And, as for those bites, the City Winery Christmas Pop-Up has the likes of caramelised onion jam and goat's cheese tarts with candied walnuts, truffle mushroom duxelle tarlets with confit button mushrooms and sage, citrus-cured trout with smoked crème fraîche and dill, and mini pavlovas with house-poached strawberries on its menu. Find City Winery Christmas Pop-Up at 22 Wyandra Street, Newstead — operating six days a week, from 3pm Tuesday–Friday and from midday on Saturdays and Sundays — likely until late January. Keep an eye on City Winery's socials for further details.
When Amy Schumer starred in Trainwreck back in 2015, audiences may have felt a sense of niggling deja vu. If you'd watched Inside Amy Schumer or any of her standup shows, you knew exactly the kind of character you were getting — not that that was a big problem, necessarily, since seeing the comedian and actress take her usual persona to the big screen was part of the appeal. But even the funniest folks can only coast on the same material for so long. That's not to say that Schumer doesn't throw herself into her latest film with gusto, but rather that her character, the aimless, self-absorbed, recently single Emily, offers very little that's new. The same is true of the film in which she resides, which plays out exactly the way you expect it to. Drunken pick-up attempts? Tick. Gags about intimate personal grooming? Tick. One-liners that only work thanks to Schumer's delivery? Keep ticking. A hard-partying character suddenly forced to address her messy existence? Of course that's what Snatched is about. The film kicks into gear when Emily's cat-loving mother Linda (Goldie Hawn) discovers, via Facebook, that her daughter has been dumped. Emily, for her part, is upset, although seemingly more about her impending, non-refundable vacation to Ecuador than the breakup itself. After trying and failing to find a friend to accompany her on her adventure, Emily discovers an old photo album filled with snaps of a once-carefree Linda travelling in her younger years. So she decides to invite her mother along instead. With a title like Snatched, it's not a spoiler to say that the duo soon find themselves kidnapped by local criminals. Frankly, it's hard to spoil much about this film, given how formulaic it all feels. From the predictable interplay between mother and daughter to the uncomfortable stereotypes about South America and its inhabitants, the uninspired script by Ghostbusters scribe Katie Dippold leaves one person with a huge job. And no, it's not director Jonathan Levine – the man behind The Night Before, Warm Bodies and 50/50 stays mostly on auto-pilot here. Instead, it's Hawn who does the bulk of the heavy lifting. It's been 15 years since the actress was last on screen, but the comic force of the '80s and '90s has lost none of her flair. A committed supporting performance by Joan Cusack aside, it's hardly surprising that Hawn's rapport with Schumer is far and away the best thing about this routine jaunt through the jungle. If all Snatched does is inspire you to seek out some of her earlier work, then at least it will have achieved something of value. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QcyeYFXdHNQ
Now, this is a story all about how a 90s sitcom favourite got flipped-turned upside down. And we'd like to take a minute, just sit right there, to tell you how the show that gave Will Smith his big acting break became a new gritty reboot called Bel-Air. Yes, just by reading that last paragraph, you now have the theme tune to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air stuck in your head. But let's be honest: if you've ever watched an episode of the 1990–96 series, even if it was decades back, you've had the ridiculously catchy song immersed in your brain ever since. Whether that track will pop up in Bel-Air is yet to be seen — but the show itself will drop on Monday, February 14. In Australia, Stan will be streaming the series, which turns Smith's earliest acting claim to fame into a drama, updates it to modern-day America, but otherwise sticks to the same basic premise. Once again, a West Philadelphia-born and -raised teenager by the name of Will Smith — this time played by first-timer Jabari Banks — will make the move to the titular Los Angeles neighbourhood. Lavish gated mansions and disparate worlds colliding awaits, as do the Banks family, with Adrian Holmes (Arrow) as Will's uncle Phillip, Cassandra Freeman (The Last OG) as his aunt Vivian, and Olly Sholotan (Run Hide Fight), Coco Jones (Vampires vs the Bronx) and Akira Akbar (Captain Marvel) as his cousins Carlton, Hilary and Ashley. Also featuring: Will's pal Jazz, this time played by Jordan L Jones (Rel). As that storyline and character list shows — and the just-dropped trailer for Bel-Air, too — there's plenty that's familiar about the series, which has been developed by the IRL Smith with filmmaker Morgan Cooper based on the latter's 2019 short fan film of the same name. But the tone firmly takes a swerve to the serious, so don't expect to be giggling along with the latest classic series to resurface after years (see also: Gossip Girl, Saved by the Bell, Sex and the City sequel series And Just Like That..., just to name a few). Check out the Bel-Air trailer below: Bel-Air will start streaming in Australia on Monday, February 14 via Stan.
Thursday is the day! Brisbane is getting a brand-spanking-new bar — and boy does she have that proverbial silver-spoon wedged firmly in her mouth. From the mind of entrepreneur Leigh Metzeling, Capulet is a no-expense-spared high-end cocktail bar for the glitterati built on the old Alloneword site. "Imagine watching a fashion show with a cocktail in hand, in a trendy but comfortable atmosphere — we think Brisbane will fall in love with the venue," says Metzeling. Yep, we're backing him. But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? (You didn't really think you were getting out of this quote free, did you? Fools). Borrowing some classical clout from Shakespeare (slash Luhrmann), the bar's four owners are looking to flood Brunswick Street with champagne and inject some decadence into after-hours Brisvegas. So, it may be time for Brisbane boys to retire those nipple flaunter-singlets, look into collared clothing options (or chain-mail; I am not 100 percent clear on how many fish tanks there will be) and get a taste for the finer things with the Capulet(s).
First came the rain, floods and mud, aka the start to 2022 that no one in Brisbane wanted. Then, in the cleanup effort, everyone got sweating. The latter isn't over yet, but Welcome to Bowen Hills is adding some beers to the mix anyway — to help raise funds for folks doing it tough after the devastating weather. Mud, Sweat and Beers is the Bowen Hills' precinct's afternoon-long fundraiser, hosted in conjunction with Savile Row and Alba. The main aim: to get attendees to stump up that cash while sipping brews, listening to bands and playing ping pong. Running from 3–10pm on Sunday, March 20, it's a breezy hangout of a shindig — head by to enjoy the vibe, tunes, beers and games, and also help a good cause while you're there. Entry is free, but all drink ticket sales will go straight to GIVIT. You'll also be able donate gold coins on the day, too. And, there's a raffle as well, featuring more than $10,000 in prizes — and if you can't make it, it's selling tickets online in the leadup.
Sometimes they're shaved and sprinkled atop pasta, risotto or eggs. Sometimes they're used to flavour cheese. To the joy of libation lovers, they've also been worked into creative types of cocktails. The foodstuff in question: truffles. A king among culinary must-haves, they don't just tantalise tastebuds every time they're mentioned, but get snapped with such frequency that they fill up social media feeds the way they fill up stomachs. Northern Italy's woods are also abundant with them, especially the tuber magnatum — otherwise known as the white truffle. But before these highly sought-after morsels can make their way into kitchens, onto plates, and into many a willing and eager mouth, someone has to spend their time and expend their energy finding the edible fungus. The Truffle Hunters introduces viewers to multiple elderly men and their adorable dogs who all do just that, with their lives revolving around roving the forest and searching out the prized food. It might sound like a relaxed pursuit — as walking through trees with your pet pooch to fill your pockets with a delicacy is bound to — but it's a highly competitive endeavour, and one that the documentary's central figures are intensely passionate about. For Aurelio, the only thing he loves more than foraging for truffles is Birba, his partner in the hunt. Alas, he worries that when his days are over, there'll be no one to care for his adored canine companion. The cantankerous Angelo has no such concerns, but he does have a plethora of gripes. Now an ex-truffle hunter disillusioned with the way that the industry has evolved over time, he's happiest when he's attacking his typewriter with gusto, using it to chronicle his myriad woes and complaints. In earning the film's attention, these two very different men are joined by the committed Sergio, who enjoys his task with his dogs Pepe and Fiona by his side — and by Carlo, who takes his walks with his own four-legged companion Titina. The latter duo are the source of some of The Truffle Hunters' most memorable scenes, with Carlo's beloved pastime forbidden by his wife. Unperturbed, he routinely sneaks out at night to search with a torch in hand. Cycling between these men's stories, directors Michael Dweck (The Last Race) and Gregory Kershaw (cinematographer on The Last Race, and also on this) chart their individual efforts. The titular subjects try care for their canines, argue with others encroaching on their turf, type missives about how the world has changed and, in Carlo's case, keep absconding by moonlight. Their hounds remain a focus, including their efforts to avoid poison baits. Devoted to capturing the pooch perspective however they can, Dweck and Kershaw aren't above using puppy cam as well. Seeing truffle hunting from a dog's viewpoint may be an easy gimmick, but it's also both a joy and a thrill — and emblematic of the film's fondness for flavour and character above all else. Narration is absent, talking heads don't clog up the screen, and no one is on hand to describe the ins and outs of the business in the spotlight, with Dweck and Kershaw favouring immersion rather than explanation. It's a fitting approach, and a purposeful one, even if the documentary takes on a relaxed air from start to finish. The Truffle Hunters is a leisurely movie that's content to chronicle its subjects' easy-going lives, lean into their eccentricities and survey their lush surroundings — and, even clocking in at just 84 minutes, it's an unhurried gem of a documentary — however, it's also carefully compiled. Truffle aficionados will spot the symbolism, of course. When chefs whip up bites to eat using the fungi, they enhance the charms of a raw ingredient by weaving it into a painstakingly crafted dish — and The Truffle Hunters does the filmmaking equivalent. When working in the kitchen and making a movie alike, it takes skill and precision to bring out the best in something, while also simultaneously arranging it in an exacting fashion. If Dweck and Kershaw happen to be as adept at cooking as they are at directing, they'd make exceptional chefs indeed. The pair's efforts behind the camera are certainly enough to whet appetites; shots of truffles being grated over plates will do that. That said, The Truffle Hunters doesn't ever earn the culinary documentary genre's least-wanted term, because no one here is interested in making mere food porn. Instead, this sumptuously and patiently lensed affair is a record and a musing. It details a way of life, and the men behind it, that's likely to wane. To place that foreseeable change in context, it shows how everything surrounding truffles is becoming an ever-lucrative business. In the process, it also ponders the way that traditions fade — when the number of people keeping them alive continues to decline, and also when profit becomes a heftier source of motivation for those taking over. As these elements swirl through the documentary — which also boasts Call Me By Your Name filmmaker Luca Guadagnino as its executive producer — it serves up a rich and substantial cinematic meal. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eg7QTqm_i4o
In just the past year, Fred Armisen has popped up on Brooklyn Nine-Nine and Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, returned briefly to Saturday Night Live, played multiple characters on Documentary Now! and launched new Spanish-language horror-comedy Los Espookys. He has also co-starred with Maya Rudolph in existential dramedy Forever, voiced a hormone monster on Big Mouth and said goodbye to Portlandia. It's safe to say that he's had a busy 12 months or so. Next up for the hardworking actor and comedian is his first Australian tour, with Armisen bringing his latest show to our shores this August and September. No, he won't be donning wigs and different outfits, and pretending to be various residents from everyone's favourite Oregon hipster city. Sketch comedy does feature in this new show, however — and, this time, musicians are his target. Combining gags, songs and impressions, Comedy for Musicians But Everyone Is Welcome finds plenty of humour in the music industry, and, as Portlandia fans will know, Armisen is no stranger to combining tunes and laughs. While he's now best known for all of the aforementioned series, others like 30 Rock, Broad City and Parks & Recreation, plus as films as varied as Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy, Battle of the Sexes and The Dictator, Armisen actually started out in Chicago punk band Trenchmouth. He also played drums for the Blue Man Group and, since it launched in 2014, he's been the bandleader and a frequent drummer for Late Night with Seth Meyers. As a result, Comedy for Musicians But Everyone Is Welcome isn't a case of a comedian poking fun at a different industry — Armisen knows what he's joking about. Heading to Melbourne, Perth, Brisbane and Sydney, Comedy for Musicians But Everyone Is Welcome follows on from Armisen's Netflix special Fred Armisen: Standup for Drummers, which nabbed him a Grammy nomination for Best Comedy Album. If you need some amusement until Armisen hits the country, check out the Standup for Drummers trailer below: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAhvJMcLShU Fred Armisen's Comedy for Musicians But Everyone Is Welcome will play at Melbourne's Athenaeum Theatre on Thursday, August 29; Perth's Astor Theatre on Sunday, September 1; The Tivoli in Brisbane on Tuesday, September 3; and Sydney's Enmore Theatre on Wednesday, September 4. Tickets go on sale at 10am on Monday, July 15 — for further details, visit the promoter's website.
Victorian distilleries have made quite the splash at the 2021 Australian Distilled Spirits Awards, claiming half of the trophies handed out at this year's award ceremony, held overnight at the Melbourne Showgrounds' Victoria Pavilion. An impressive nine trophies were awarded to local makers at the prestigious ceremony on December 1, while McLaren Vale's Never Never Distilling Co took out the top gong, awarded Champion Australian Distiller. It's been a rough couple of years, but testament to the industry's fighting 'spirit', this year's awards saw a hefty 765 entries from 191 distilleries, with 90 gold medals handed out and hundreds more silver and bronze. Among the Victorians to claim victory was Eltham's Naught Distilling, whose Australian Dry Gin scored both the Champion New World/Contemporary Gin and Champion Victorian Gin trophies. The Mornington Peninsula's Jimmy Rum was named Champion Victorian Distillery, while its Jimmy Rum Silver nabbed the brand-new award for Champion Cane Spirit. North Melbourne's Cap & Bells earned gongs for its Marionette bitter orange curacao and dry cassis, and an exciting cask collaboration from Chief's Son and Mornington Peninsula Brewery was awarded Champion Australian Small Batch Spirit. Never Never — whose name you might recognise from the recent oyster shell gin collaboration with Lucas Group restaurant Society — also took out the trophies for Champion Navy Gin (the Juniper Freak) and Champion London Dry Gin (Triple Juniper Export Strength Gin). [caption id="attachment_761553" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Archie Rose's Rye Malt Whisky[/caption] Unsurprisingly, the New South Wales spirits scene also represented, with big wins for Archie Rose's Rye Malt Whisky, Regal Rogue's Lively White vermouth, and Mobius Distilling Co's Apple Pie Liqueur and 38 Special Vodka. Meanwhile, fresh trophies for Bundaberg and South Australia's Ginny Pig Distillery now offer a few extra incentives for that boozy interstate trip you've been plotting. Running since 2015, the Australian Distilled Spirits Awards is the country's largest national spirits competition. They're hosted by not-for-profit organisation Melbourne Royal, and judged by some of Australia's top distillers, booze retailers and spirits writers. For the full list of 2021 Australian Distilled Spirits Awards winners, check out the website. Top Image: Jimmy Rum, by Chris McConville
From global behemoth Netflix to the arthouse, indie and documentary-focused Kanopy, picking a streaming platform can take as much time as actually picking something to watch on a streaming platform. The latest to enter the market has quite the point of difference, however — and not just because it's free. If viewing the likes of Bronson, Drive, Only God Forgives and The Neon Demon has you on the same wavelength as filmmaker Nicolas Winding Refn, then you're in luck — the Danish writer/director is launching his own streaming service. Called byNWR.com, it's currently in beta testing before opening to the public at a later date this month, with the site dubbing itself "an unadulterated expressway for the arts". A venture in conjunction with existing platform Mubi as well as the Harvard Film Archive, byNWR.com will highlight a restored cult classic each month that's picked by a guest editor, The Guardian reports. Each film will be supported by content themed around the chosen flick, such as essays, videos, photos and music. And if you're wondering just what titles will be on offer, Refn detailed the first four, as well as his reasons for highlighting them. They're not the type of movies that you're likely to have watched and rewatched endlessly, or even seen on a big or small screen recently, including 1961 thriller Night Tide starring Dennis Hopper, 1965 horror effort The Nest of the Cuckoo Birds, 1974's The Burning Hell and 1967's Hot Thrills and Warm Chills. "I hope my site will inspire people to see the world a different way," the filmmaker outlined in his piece for The Guardian, while also writing about something fans of Refn's own work will be more than familiar with — pushing people out of their comfort zones. If Refn's choices sound like the kind of thing you would like to see in a cinema, Little White Lies also reports that the streaming site will be accompanied by special screenings around the globe. Via The Guardian.
If you're someone who loves indulging in a few G&Ts on a summer evening but doesn't love waking up to dehydrated, hungover skin, Four Pillars Gin and Go-To Skincare have you covered. The beloved Aussie brands are bringing back their extremely limited-edition Go-To Gin — a spirit that sent fans of Go-To founder ZFB (that's Zoë Foster-Blake for the uninitiated) into a frenzy upon its initial release in 2021, and again in 2022. When we say frenzy we mean it. The first two batches of My New Go-To Gin sold out in mere hours. So, it's time to start preparing your gin-buying fingers for 2023, with the second release dropping on Wednesday, November 22. Ready for cocktail mixing and shaking, the flavours in this coveted drop include quandong, aka native Aussie peach, plus yuzu, lime, coriander seeds and lemon myrtle. We hope you like particularly peachy sips, because this year's gin goes heavier on the quandong. And yes, the familiar peach-pink Go-To label means that you could probably add a bottle to your bathroom counter's lineup and nobody would notice anything out of the ordinary. Four Pillars co-founder and distiller Cam Mackenzie said in a statement he was aware gin and skin are an "unlikely duo". "But we knew we were onto a good thing with Go-To when we sold out faster than Taylor Swift tickets (almost). This year we've amped up quandong, freshness and a bit of peachiness to to add an extra layer of complexity," Mackenzie continued. To celebrate the launch, the skincare brand is also expanding where My New Go-To Gin will be available. For folks in Melbourne, you can hit up the Four Pillars pop-up store inside the Bourke Street Myer, and also to Lotte Duty-Free at Melbourne Airport for the first time. For everyone else, you're still headed to the Four Pillars' Sydney Laboratory and Healesville Distillery, and online. If you pick up some My New Go-To Gin from Bourke Street or Melbourne Airport, then sip a few too many drinks the night before another event (hello, festive season) you're in luck: every bottle from those two locations comes with a Go-To 'Transformazing' sheet mask to soak your skin in much-needed moisture. If last year is anything to go by, we imagine this gin is going to sell out pretty quickly, so signing up for the 2023 waitlist is highly recommended. While you're there, you'll also find a few cocktail recipes. And if you miss out, or peach isn't really your gin infusion of choice, you've got options however you choose to imbibe — Four Pillars has brought back its annual cult-favourites Bloody Shiraz Gin and Christmas gin for your festive cocktail needs. The 2023 Four Pillars Go-To Gin will go on sale online and in-store on Wednesday, November 22. Head to the Four Pillars website to sign up to the waitlist.
What has two wheels and an engine, and has powered its way across roads in real life and on cinema screens for quite some time? The humble motorbike, of course. Brisbane's Gallery of Modern Art is paying tribute to the method of transportation across its big summer exhibition — and, as the South Brisbane site tends to, it's pairing that showcase with a heap of movies on the subject as well. From Saturday, November 28–Sunday, April 25, GOMA's Australia Cinematheque is revving up the projector to play all sorts of flicks that feature motorcycles. And, spanning obvious choices such as Easy Rider, Terminator 2: Judgment Day and The Motorcycle Diaries, plus more creative choices like Fantastic Mr Fox, Akira, and both Tron and Tron: Legacy, it's all 100-percent free to attend. Other highlights range from classics like The Wild One and The Great Escape, Aussie fare including three out of four Mad Max films, and John Waters' Cry-Baby, to top-notch documentary Finke: There and Back, the Ryan Gosling-starring The Place Beyond the Pines and the original version of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Don't miss the chance to see excellent Asian fare such as The Villainess, Kaili Blues and The Wild Goose Lake on the silver screen, or the Marx brothers' Duck Soup, Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday or a very young Willem Dafoe in The Loveless, either. And, if you haven't already watched and rewatched Andy Samberg comedy Hot Rod countless times (or even if you have), that's on the Motorcycles On Screen lineup as well. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GmetDR0jDJQ
To celebrate its 11th birthday, Sydney-founded restaurant chain Ribs & Burgers has added a premium birthday slider to the menu. The star of the burger is a wagyu beef patty accompanied by pink sauce, red onion, pickles, American cheese, barbecue sauce and mustard. The burger is available for a limited time and can be picked up for $8.90 on its own, with chips for $13.90 or with a serving of pork ribs for $19.90. On Tuesday, November 8, Ribs & Burgers is taking the celebrations up a notch offering the sliders for $5 each —for one day only. To get your wagyu fix for just $5, head into your local store or order online on November 8. Ribs & Burgers has outposts across Australia, including The Rocks, Chatswood and Bella Vista in Sydney, Craigieburn and Hawthorn in Victoria, and Fortitude Vallery and Woolloongabba in Queensland. You can find your local store at the Ribs & Burgers website. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Ribs & Burgers (@ribsandburgers) FYI, this story includes some affiliate links. These don't influence any of our recommendations or content, but they may make us a small commission. For more info, see Concrete Playground's editorial policy.
In 2018, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced a controversial change to the Oscars: creating an award for most popular film. The backlash was strong and swift, with the category quickly put on hold — and the fresh slate of Oscar nominees show why the new gong really isn't needed. From the Lady Gaga-starring fourth take on A Star Is Born, to Black Panther's comic book antics, to Bohemian Rhapsody's love letter to Queen, plenty of last year's huge box office hits are now multiple nominees for the 91st annual Academy Awards, which will be held on Monday, February 25 Australian time. They're joined by a heap of critical and audience favourites from 2018, including Alfonso Cuarón's highly personal drama Roma, deliciously dark historical effort The Favourite and Dick Cheney biopic Vice, plus two very different films about race relations: BlacKkKlansman and Green Book. By the numbers, Roma and The Favourite lead the charge with ten nods apiece, while A Star Is Born and Vice each scored eight, Black Panther received seven, BlacKkKlansman nabbed six, and Bohemian Rhapsody and Green Book took five each. Of course, the figures only tell part of the story — some of the biggest highlights from the list of nominees are hidden behind the numbers. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fp_i7cnOgbQ For only the sixth time in 91 years, a black filmmaker has been recognised in the best director category, with Spike Lee picking up his first-ever nomination across his lengthy career. Plus, for the first time since 1977's ceremony, two of the five best director contenders are for flicks in languages other than English — with Cuarón the favourite for Roma and Cold War's Pawel Pawlikowski a deserving but unexpected inclusion. Among the best picture field, Black Panther became the first Marvel movie to ever score a nod for the coveted award. And a movie star was born in Lady Gaga, who made history by becoming the first person to nab noms for best actress and for best original song in the same year (the latter of which, for A Star Is Born's heart-swelling banger 'Shallow', she's a shoo-in to win). On the surprise front, among Roma's huge haul, sit nods for two of its main on-screen talents, with Yalitza Aparicio in the best actress category and Marina de Tavira in the best supporting actress field. The Netflix title wasn't the streaming platform's only big contender, with the Coen Brothers-directed western anthology The Ballad of Buster Scruggs also picking up three nods. Of course, there are always gaps. After Greta Gerwig became just the fifth woman to be nominated for best director last year, the category went with an all-male lineup this time around — and among the exclusions, Can You Ever Forgive Me?'s Marielle Heller directed stars Melissa McCarthy and Richard E. Grant to acting nominations, but didn't make the Oscar cut herself. And the list is light for Australian talents, with The Favourite landing the country's only contenders in the form of screenwriter Tony McNamara and production designer Fiona Crombie. The 91st Academy Awards will take place on Monday, February 25, Australian time. Here's the full list of nominations. OSCAR NOMINEES 2019 BEST MOTION PICTURE Black Panther BlacKkKlansman Bohemian Rhapsody The Favourite Green Book Roma A Star Is Born Vice BEST DIRECTOR Alfonso Cuarón, Roma Yorgos Lanthimos, The Favourite Spike Lee, BlacKkKlansman Adam McKay, Vice Pawel Pawlikowski, Cold War PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS IN A LEADING ROLE Yalitza Aparicio, Roma Glenn Close, The Wife Olivia Colman, The Favourite Lady Gaga, A Star Is Born Melissa McCarthy, Can You Ever Forgive Me? PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR IN A LEADING ROLE Christian Bale, Vice Bradley Cooper, A Star Is Born Willem Dafoe, At Eternity's Gate Rami Malek, Bohemian Rhapsody Viggo Mortensen, Green Book PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTRESS IN A SUPPORTING ROLE Amy Adams, Vice Marina de Tavira, Roma Regina King, If Beale Street Could Talk Emma Stone, The Favourite Rachel Weisz, The Favourite PERFORMANCE BY AN ACTOR IN A SUPPORTING ROLE Mahershala Ali, Green Book Adam Driver, BlacKkKlansman Sam Elliott, A Star Is Born Richard E. Grant, Can You Ever Forgive Me? Sam Rockwell, Vice BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY The Favourite First Reformed Green Book Roma Vice BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY The Ballad of Buster Scruggs BlacKkKlansman Can You Ever Forgive Me? If Beale Street Could Talk A Star Is Born BEST ORIGINAL SCORE Black Panther BlacKkKlansman If Beale Street Could Talk Isle of Dogs Mary Poppins Returns BEST ORIGINAL SONG 'All the Stars', Black Panther 'I'll Fight', RBG 'The Place Where Lost Things Go', Mary Poppins Returns 'Shallow', A Star Is Born 'When a Cowboy Trades His Spurs for Wings', The Ballad of Buster Scruggs BEST FILM EDITING BlacKkKlansman Bohemian Rhapsody The Favourite Green Book Vice BEST FOREIGN-LANGUAGE FILM Capernaum (Lebanon) Cold War (Poland) Never Look Away (Germany) Roma (Mexico) Shoplifters (Japan) BEST ANIMATED FEATURE Incredibles 2 Isle of Dogs Mirai Ralph Breaks the Internet Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE Free Solo Hale County This Morning, This Evening Minding the Gap Of Fathers and Sons RBG BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY Cold War The Favourite Never Look Away Roma A Star Is Born BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN Black Panther The Favourite First Man Mary Poppins Returns Roma BEST VISUAL EFFECTS Avengers: Infinity War Christopher Robin First Man Ready Player One Solo: A Star Wars Story BEST COSTUME DESIGN The Ballad of Buster Scruggs Black Panther The Favourite Mary Poppins Returns Mary Queen of Scots BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLING Border Mary Queen of Scots Vice BEST SOUND MIXING Black Panther Bohemian Rhapsody First Man Roma A Star Is Born BEST SOUND EDITING Black Panther Bohemian Rhapsody First Man A Quiet Place Roma BEST DOCUMENTARY SHORT SUBJECT Black Sheep End Game Lifeboat A Night at the Garden Period. End of Sentence BEST ANIMATED SHORT FILM Animal Behavior Bao Late Afternoon One Small Step Weekends BEST LIVE ACTION SHORT FILM Detainment Fauve Marguerite Mother Skin
After heading our way for Laneway Festival earlier in 2023, Japanese Australian singer-songwriter Joji is finally giving his Aussie fans the chance to catch a glimpse of him at his own headline gigs when he returns for a run of arena shows. The viral hitmaker is making his way Down Under fresh from a US run of gigs, including bringing the Pandemonium tour to the Brisbane Entertainment Centre on Saturday, November 18. Joji's debut headline Australian shows have been a long time coming. After fostering a cult following on YouTube, he pivoted his talents to music in 2017, releasing three studio albums across the following six years. The entire trio of albums has spawned Top 40 hits in Australia, New Zealand and the US, and Joji is one of only a handful of artists that can claim to have multiple songs with over a billion streams on Spotify — with 'Glimpse of Us' and 'Slow Dancing in the Dark' both passing this impressive milestone. Concertgoers can expect the heartfelt emotions of Joji's ballads alongside a sprinkling of humour, with his live shows receiving online notoriety for the performer's onstage hijinx between and during songs. Scottish dance producer and singer Sam Gellaitry is on supporting duties alongside rapper SavageRealm, who also opened for Joji on his North American tour.
An exclusive experience awaits with this lush trip to Vlasoff Cay — a jewel in the crown of the Great Barrier Reef. This sandy cay, with 360 degree views of the world famous reef, is also accessible via boat, but the luxe experience is from the air. But to see the sights from above, book a full-day return helicopter trip with eco-certified reef lovers Nautlius Aviation. You'll get to spend hours with the sand between your toes, snorkelling and indulging in a gourmet picnic hamper as you drip-dry in the balmy tropical air. The cay is a popular destination, so take advantage of the summer months and beat the crowds.
Bouncing across the screen with charm, energy and an 80s sheen, Air says one name often: Michael Jordan. This film spins an origin story so closely linked to the NBA all-timer that the true tale simply wouldn't and couldn't have happened without him; however, it isn't actually the six-time championship-winning former Chicago Bulls player's own. Instead, Ben Affleck turns director again for the first time since 2016's Live By Night to recount how Jordan also became an icon in the footwear game. Think shoes, and everyone knows the word that usually follows this flick's title. Think Air Jordans, and Nike also springs to mind. Those sneakers are still being made almost four decades after first hitting stories — in fact, the brand is now notching up $5 billion in annual revenue, $150 million of which is going to its namesake — so Air answers the question no one knew they had until now: how did it initially happen? Sports endorsement deals mightn't sound like compelling cinema, but neither did scouting, signing and trading in the right baseball players before Moneyball demonstrated otherwise. Working with a script by screenwriting first-timer Alex Convery — who is also one of Air's co-producers — Affleck turns the quest to sign a then just-drafted Jordan by a struggling shoe company into infectiously entertaining viewing. The actor and filmmaker might be nearly as famous for Sad Affleck and Bored Affleck as he is for movies, but he knows how to please a crowd. Forget his facial expressions when he's unhappy talking about Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice or being at the 2023 Grammys with Jennifer Lopez; as Argo demonstrated back in 2012 to the tune of three Academy Awards including Best Picture, behind-the-lens Affleck is a feel-good wiz with lively and irresistible true tales. Indeed, give the Good Will Hunting screenwriting Oscar-winner an IRL event filled with tension and twists, and populated by vivid characters, then get him to replay it smoothly and at a snappy pace (and with ample talk): that's now not just a one-off Affleck formula. He's been helming films since 2007's Gone Baby Gone. He's up to five now, and he's also starred in them all since 2010's The Town. Also featuring Matt Damon, Jason Bateman, Chris Messina, Viola Davis and Chris Tucker on-screen, Air is one of Affleck's own greats as a director. Even from just the trailer, it's easy to see that he's in Argo mode again — welcomely so, as the end product shows. Somehow, we're currently living through a golden time for genuinely engaging pictures about corporate manoeuvring that could've just been expensive ads in lesser hands; see also: recent streaming release Tetris, which also stacked the right blocks into place. Air similarly heads back to the 80s, to 1984, when Jordan was a 21-year-old college standout newly in the NBA and facing a life-changing decision. Damian Young (Prom Night Flex) plays the basketball GOAT, but this is a movie about the making of a legend — so the pivotal character gets all the flick's admiration and praise while bounding into the boardroom wheeling and dealing. Crucially, Air doesn't block out Jordan. Rather, it pays tribute to his talent even without staging on-court scenes, and to the shrewd wrangling and negotiating that his no-nonsense mother Deloris (Davis, The Woman King) did on his behalf. The ultimate outcome is clearly well-known, because if there was no agreement, there'd be no Air Jordans and therefore no movie (and the Beaverton, Oregon-based Nike would still be best known for jogging shoes). But the slam dunk this endorsement proved for giving athletes their financial dues when their talents make bank for sponsoring companies is no minor matter, and nor is it treated as such. Working for founder and CEO Phil Knight (Affleck, Deep Water) four years after Nike went public, in-house basketball expert Sonny Vaccaro (Damon, The Last Duel) really just has one job: find the footwear outfit the right NBA name to tie their fortunes to, help them seem cool among the basketball crowd and get customers a-buying. His colleague Rob Strasser (Bateman, Ozark) wants three players, thinking that the company is already priced out of the market on top draft picks — and unalluring due to their paltry share of the market compared to Adidas and Converse. The stakes are high, albeit not Argo-level life-or-death high. The word is that Nike's basketball division will be scrapped if the next endorsement deal doesn't deliver. So, Sonny makes a bold suggestion. Instead of a trio of ballers, he's all-in on Jordan, certain that he's the future of the game and about to be its biggest-ever star. The latter's manager David Falk (Messina, Call Jane) won't entertain the prospect, though, which is what leads Sonny to courting Michael's parents Deloris and James (Julius Tennon, also The Woman King, as well as Davis' real-life husband). Sonny is a gambler, detouring to Las Vegas when he's scoping out college up-and-comers. On Jordan, he bets big. And, although Affleck ticks all the boxes that helped Argo become the hit and award-winner it is, Air isn't afraid to take its own chances. There's zero risk in the movie's spot-on aesthetic, which cinematographer Robert Richardson (Once Upon a Time in Hollywood) roves over lovingly. (Commercials from the era are also spliced in). There's also no flukes in the period-appropriate soundtrack, which is as obvious as they come yet also still works. But Air is as much about what it means to leave a legacy and be remembered as it is about the ins and outs of teaming up Nike and Jordan — and crafting the kicks that became must-wear apparel (Hello Tomorrow!'s Matthew Maher plays designer Peter Moore) — a choice that might've been a long shot or even a miss if it didn't sail meaningfully but still breezily through the hoop. Actually, don't forget Affleck's facial expressions after all — he's having a blast on-screen as the grape-coloured Porsche-driving Knight, especially in his scenes with Damon. It's been more than a quarter-century since Good Will Hunting, that script collaboration and them apples, plus more than three decades since they were both in School Ties before that, and they remain a dynamic duo to watch simply bicker and banter. Including Tucker (Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk) as fellow Nike employee Howard White and Marlon Wayans (Respect) as George Raveling, a 1984 Olympics assistant coach when Jordan was first on the US team, Air's cast is a dream, but Davis unsurprisingly gives the swishest of performances. This is always a film about showing the money to the greatest to ever do it rather than just using him as a corporate asset, too, and in a movie that earns its audience's cheers, she's the face of that important battle.
Every actor has one, albeit in various shades, lengths and textures, but sometimes one single hairstyle says everything about a film. Wildly careening in whichever direction it seems to feel like at any point, yet also strikingly sculptural, the towering reddish stack of curly locks atop Penélope Cruz's head in Official Competition is one such statement-making coiffure. It's a stunning sight, with full credit to the movie's hairstylists. These tremendous tresses are both unruly and immaculate; they draw the eye in immediately, demanding the utmost attention. And, yes, Cruz's crowning glory shares those traits with this delightful Spanish Argentine farce about filmmaking — a picture directed and co-written by Mariano Cohn and Gastуn Duprat (The Distinguished Citizen), and also starring Antonio Banderas (Uncharted) and Oscar Martínez (Wild Tales), that it's simply impossible to look away from. Phenomenal hair is just the beginning for Cruz here. Playing filmmaker Lola Cuevas — a Palme d'Or-winning arthouse darling helming an ego-stroking prestige picture for rich octogenarian businessman Humberto Suárez (José Luis Gómez, Truman) — she's downright exceptional as well. Humberto decides to throw some cash into making a movie in the hope of leaving a legacy that lasts, and enlisting Lola to work her magic with a Nobel Prize-winning novel called Rivalry is quite the coup. So is securing the talents of flashy global star Félix Rivero (Banderas) and serious theatre actor Iván Torres (Martínez), a chalk-and-cheese pair who'll work together for the first time, stepping into the shoes of feuding brothers. But before the feature can cement its backer's name in history, its three key creatives have to survive an exacting rehearsal process. Lola believes in rigorous preparation, and in testing and stretching her leading men, with each technique she springs on them more outlandish and stressful than the last. As Lola, Cruz is a 'find yourself someone who can do both'-kind of marvel. She's clearly starring in a comedy, and her timing, rhythms and line delivery are as fine-tuned as any acting great who has ever tried to amuse an audience — and serve up a hefty reminder that viewers rarely get to see her in such a role — but she perfects the drama of the situation, too. The latter stems from Lola's male leads, who are caught up in a clash of egos, and from the director herself as she keeps eagerly but purposefully pulling their strings. Light, fluid, sharp, smart: they all fit this savvily portrayed character, and never for a second does Cruz feel like she's seesawing too easily, needlessly or temperamentally from comic to serious and back. Earlier in 2022, she was nominated for an Oscar for her sublime performance in Parallel Mothers — an award she deserved to win, but didn't — and although Official Competition couldn't be a more different film, she's just as much of a force to be reckoned with within its frames. Cohn and Duprat might have a little of Lola in them, as well as conjuring her up with fellow scribe Andrés Duprat (My Masterpiece). The Argentine filmmaking duo's rehearsal methods aren't part of the movie, obviously, and it's likely that they didn't wrap their cast in cling wrap as their protagonist hilariously does — but, whatever mechanisms they deployed, they obtain outstanding performances from their key players. This is Cruz's film, but Banderas revels in the chance to cleverly and cannily satirise his profession and industry as much as she does, with the two teaming up yet again after featuring side by side in plenty of Pedro Almodóvar's movies (see: Pain and Glory most recently). The playful teasing is ramped up a level, and there's a greater emphasis on his killer stare, which can flip from brooding to charming to pouting in an instant; however, the result remains remarkable. Martínez plays it relatively straight in-between his co-stars, but is no less compelling; Iván has his own ego battles. Getting Cruz, Bandereas and Martínez bouncing off of each other was always bound to spark something special. They're acting in the service of unpacking acting, and their pitch-perfect portrayals perceptively probe and parody in tandem. The arrogance that comes with fame, the quest for constant validation, the ridiculousness of being a celebrity — they're all targets for laughs, as is the gaping chasm between acting megastardom and everything else. None of these spark new revelations, but Official Competition isn't merely content to get three top talents turning in ace performances to merely state the blatant. Cohn and Duprat's work relies upon acting, and they clearly treasure it as an artform, even as they poke fun at it. The jokes land, but their film also has time to appreciate the emotional toll that goes into a dynamite performance and the sincerity summoned up by the best of the best, all as Lola wrings everything she can out of Félix and Iván. Her tactics, unfurled across their nine-day pre-shoot period, and designed to get the two men to discard their senses of self and become one with their characters, would do Wile E Coyote proud. They're more mischievous than torturous, though — and they're also shrewd and very funny. In one, Félix and Iván argue beneath a giant rock, suspended precariously above them, heightening their anxiety while Lola is thoroughly nonplussed. Another gets them practicing their kissing techniques in front of a bank of microphones so that every sound can be heard and critiqued, with their director ruthless in her scrutiny. In yet another, getting wrapped in plastic together, which both Félix and Iván unsurprisingly abhor, is part of a bold and drastic plan to get the pair to relinquish their reliance upon external approval. What images these three scenarios, and others like them, spark — capturing Cruz and that hairdo, naturally, and so much more. Plenty about Official Competition sounds surreal, and it's certainly how this spectacularly staged and shot feature looks at every moment. Eccentric and meticulous are words that describe Lola and, of course, her coif; they couldn't sum up the movie's production design or cinematography better, too. Here's another that fits: magnificent. Director of photography Arnau Valls Colomer (Lost Transmissions) operates on a Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul level of visual precision, spanning where the camera is placed, the angles it peers on from, the painterly composition of each and every image, and what that level of detail says about an industry that's all about detail. Like the gem it is, everything about this film gleams.
This multi-day live-aboard experience is the an ideal ocean getaway for accredited open water divers. Offering three-, four- and seven-day trips, Spirit of Freedom will whisk you away to Cod Hole, Ribbon Reefs and Osprey Reef — some of the most impressive dive destinations in the world. Experience shark dives, sheer walls laced with soft corals, manta rays, and bright, abundant tropical reefs rich with biodiversity paired with hotel quality ammenities and first class meals on this lush escape. And, did we mention the boat's three decks you can relax on? They're perfect for an afternoon kip before heading out for a twilight dive.
Back in 1962, in the first-ever Bond film Dr No, the suave, Scottish-accented, Sean Connery-starring version of 007 admires a painting in the eponymous evil villain's underwater lair. That picture: Francisco Goya's Portrait of the Duke of Wellington. The artwork itself is very much real, too, although the genuine article doesn't appear in the feature. Even if the filmmakers had wanted to use the actual piece, it was missing at the time. In fact, making a joke about that exact situation is why the portrait is even referenced in Dr No. That's quite the situation: the debut big-screen instalment in one of cinema's most famous and longest-running franchises, and a saga about super spies and formidable villains at that, including a gag about a real-life art heist. The truth behind the painting's disappearance is even more fantastical, however, as The Duke captures. The year prior to Bond's first martini, a mere 19 days after the early 19th-century Goya piece was put on display in the National Gallery in London, the portrait was stolen. Unsurprisingly, the pilfering earned plenty of attention — especially given that the government-owned institution had bought the picture for the hefty sum of £140,000, which'd likely be almost £3 million today. International master criminals were suspected. Years passed, two more 007 movies hit cinemas, and there was zero sign of the artwork or the culprit. And, that might've remained the case if eccentric Newcastle sexagenarian Kempton Bunton hadn't turned himself in in 1965, advising that he'd gotten light-fingered in protest at the obscene amount spent on Portrait of the Duke of Wellington using taxpayer funds — money that could've been better deployed to provide pensioners with TV licenses, a cause Bunton had openly campaigned for (and even been imprisoned over after refusing to pay his own television fee). First, the not-at-all-inconsequential detail that's incongruous with glueing your eyes to the small screen Down Under: the charge that many countries collect for watching the box. Australia and New Zealand both abolished it decades ago, but it remains compulsory in the UK to this day. As played by Jim Broadbent (Six Minutes to Midnight), Bunton is fiercely opposed to paying, much to the embarrassment of his wife Dorothy (Helen Mirren, Fast and Furious 9) whenever the license inspectors come calling. He's even in London with his son Jackie (Fionn Whitehead, Voyagers) to attempt to spread the word about his fight against the TV fee for pensioners when Goya's painting is taken — that, and to get the BBC to produce the television scripts he devotedly pens and sends in, but receives no interest back from the broadcaster. Even the Bond franchise couldn't have dreamed up these specifics. The Duke's true tale is far wilder than fiction, and also so strange that it can only spring from reality. Directed by Roger Michell (My Cousin Rachel, Blackbird) — marking the British filmmaker's last fictional feature before his 2021 passing — it delivers its story with some light tinkering here and there, but the whole episode still makes for charming viewing. Much of the minutiae is shared during Bunton's court case, which could've jumped out of a Frank Capra movie; that's the feel-good vibe the movie shoots for and easily hits. Such a move couldn't be more astute for a flick that surveys an incident from more than half a century ago, but reaches screens in a world where the chasm between the haves and the have-nots just keeps widening. Yes, it's basically a pensioner-and-painting version of Robin Hood. Decrying the gap between the wealthy and the not-so, calling out government priorities that only broaden that divide, fighting against injustice, sporting a healthy distrust of the powers that be: these all flicker through Bunton, his TV license crusade and his portrait-stealing trial, and through the movie itself. Michell and playwrights-turned-screenwriters Richard Bean and Clive Coleman (Young Marx) aren't shy about the anti-authoritarian sentiment, but package it up with can-do underdog cheekiness — the brazenness of the little guy sticking it to the man, naturally. That class clash gives The Duke depth as it dances through its caper, and does so with an upbeat, congenial and even farcical tone. Here, a feature can stress a point about the money-coveting state of the world and its impact upon the working class, and it can have an affable time saying it. Most opportunities to surprise disappear along the way, but the result is endearing and likeable rather than routine or pandering. The Duke's story was always going to demand notice, but it mightn't have proven so pleasing — so crowd-pleasing, to be precise — with any other casting. Although he ensures that it appears otherwise, the ever-reliable Broadbent doesn't have a simple role; veer too far in one direction and Bunton could've been seen as foolish, tip over to the other side too forcefully and he might've just been lecturing and scolding. When it comes to balancing the amiable and the passionate (someone winsome but with the strength of his convictions), the veteran on-screen talent hits the jackpot. Mirren and Whitehead's parts have fewer layers, but they each turn in engaging performances. And in Mirren's case, after her aforementioned spot in the Fast and Furious franchise, plus The Good Liar and Woman in Gold on her recent-ish resume, her love of heists and/or subterfuge shines through from beneath Dorothy's sterner surface. There's a cosiness and gentleness to The Duke, and an ease, sentimentality and sweetness. They all couldn't suit the film better, actually. With cinematographer Mike Eley (The Dig, Off the Rails), Michell gives the movie a comforting look and feel, too, but it's also lively, resonant and charismatic as well. It's little wonder, then, that feature slides nicely into the director's body of work alongside the likes of Notting Hill, Venus and Le Week-End. As many of those pictures did — and the tonally heavier The Mother and Enduring Love as well — The Duke has more than just entertaining in mind, though. Charting an escapade that no screenwriter could've convincingly conjured up, it rallies against societal divides and also wades through grief. Little is too shaken or stirred, but it all goes down smoothly and delightfully — and with some bite.
There are neither aliens nor gods to be found in the latest instalment of the seemingly unstoppable Marvel movie franchise. Instead, this is an 'enemy within' offering, and it's very much the better for it. Captain America (Chris Evans) is the Avenger in question this time round, and for a movie about the perils of extra-governmental espionage and unregulated oversight, there could be no more suitable a hero than that unfailingly honest idealist Captain Rogers. In The Winter Soldier, Cap finds himself contemplating a life beyond the military, only to be drawn deep back inside the shadowy organisation S.H.I.E.L.D following an assassination attempt on his boss, Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson). With the story's many twists and turns, it's risky to disclose much more, but at its heart this is a film about trust, betrayal and (inevitably) good ole-fashioned right and wrong. Fitting, then, that his holiness the pope of '70s plot-based paranoia, Robert Redford, makes an appearance as S.H.I.E.L.D's chairman Alexander Pierce. It's difficult in any film not to get excited whenever Redford embarks upon one of his trademark disquisitions on the state of democracy, freedom or peace, and in The Winter Soldier you get the full-blown triple play. Joining him in the mix are S.H.I.E.L.D regulars Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson) and Agent Hill (Cobie Smulders), as well as the instantly appealing newcomer 'Falcon' (Anthony Mackie). Inevitably, a superhero movie with a budget as big as its leading man's pecs is going to feature the periodic sensory onslaught of explosions, car chases, plane chases and carplane chases to keep the blockbuster fans satiated. The highlights in The Winter Soldier, however, are the smaller-scale, human melees, because let's be honest — Cap's superpowers aren't all that super ("Fitter than the average man, more honest than Abe Lincoln, Chris Evans is...the Truthy Runner"). As a result, his action sequences require more imagination on the part of the writers than they might for, say, Iron Man, and where the team most often delivers is in all the creative ways Cap uses his iconic shield, both in defence and on offence. Not quite as witty as Whedon's Avengers yet more engaging than Thor 2, Captain America: The Winter Soldier offers a darker and more thoughtful superhero story than most, if not all, of its Marvel predecessors. https://youtube.com/watch?v=7SlILk2WMTI
UPDATE, January 31, 2023: Skinamarink streams via Shudder from Thursday, February 2. Age may instil nocturnal bravery in most of us, stopping the flinching and wincing at things that routinely go bump, thump and jump in the night in our ordinary homes, but the childhood feeling of lying awake in the dark with shadows, shapes and strange sounds haunting an eerie void never seeps from memory. Close your eyes, cast your mind back, and the unsettling and uncertain sensation can easily spring again — that's how engrained it is. Or, with your peepers wide open, you could just watch new micro-budget Canadian horror movie Skinamarink. First-time feature filmmaker Kyle Edward Ball has even made this breakout hit, which cost just $15,000 to produce, in the house he grew up in. His characters: two kids, four-year-old Kevin (debutant Lucas Paul) and six-year-old Kaylee (fellow newcomer Dali Rose Tetreault), who wake up deep into the evening. The emotion he's trading in: pure primal dread, because to view this digitally shot but immensely grainy-looking flick is to be plunged back to a time when nightmares lingered the instant that the light switched off. Skinamarink does indeed jump backwards, meeting Kevin and Kaylee in 1995 when they can't find their dad (Ross Paul, Moby Dick) or mum (Jaime Hill, Give and Take) after waking. But, befitting a movie that's an immersive collage of distressing and disquieting images and noises from the get-go, it also pulsates with an air of being trapped in time. It takes its name from a nonsense nursery-rhyme song from 1910, then includes cartoons from the 1930s on Kevin and Kaylee's television to brighten up the night's relentless darkness. In its exacting, hissing sound design especially, it brings David Lynch's 1977 debut Eraserhead to mind. And the influence of 1999's The Blair Witch Project and the 2007-born Paranormal Activity franchise is just as evident, although Skinamarink is far more ambient, experimental and experiential. Ball has evolved from crafting YouTube shorts inspired by online commenters' worst dreams to this: his own creepypasta. Driven more by mood than story — sleepwalking more than driven, perhaps — Skinamarink sees its two pint-sized protagonists react to their parents' absence by embracing a childhood staple: camping out in front of the TV, where those animated shows play, with cereal, blankets and toys to help comfort them. It isn't Saturday morning, though, and they can hear odd noises echoing from the floor above. Also, those cartoons seem to be looping. Plus, this unnerving spin on Home Alone also involves doors and windows vanishing in glitches, then the toilet disappearing. Household items, such as chairs, dolls and video tapes, suddenly become attached to the ceiling and walls as well. And, amid the ASMR-style whispering that the film's central siblings utter at each other, there's a disconcerting voice attempting to get Kaylee to venture upstairs into her parents' bedroom — and to do the one thing that kids know they shouldn't at night, aka look under the bed. Has something horrific happened, leaving Skinamarink's two tots on their lonesome? Is this a case of parental neglect, abandonment or abuse? Has divorce disrupted the family unit ("I don't want to talk about mom," Kaylee says at one point), and this is the fraught and fractured aftermath? Or, are supernatural forces — demonic even — at work? Is it just panic, but in that innocent-minded way where everything seems scarier and more catastrophic in a young brain and heart that trusts in its guardians as a main source of comfort, safety and protection? And why is there no end to the agitated night, and to the accompanying atmosphere of fright? Writing plus directing, and leaning on first-time cinematographer Jamie McRae heavily, Ball lets all these questions and thoughts flow through his disorientated audience's heads. As Skinamarink sparks queries but gleefully eschews clearcut answers, saying that it sees Kevin and Kaylee isn't quite accurate. The slow-cinema effort does indeed focus on two kids alone at night when weird things occur, but that narrative summary can't cut to the movie's heart without being paired with a description of how the picture tells its tale. An exercise in precise framing and just-as-meticulous editing, it flits between patient glimpses around the potentially haunted house, all at angles as off-kilter as the events being captured. The feature peers ahead from low to the ground, mimicking a preschooler sitting — or stares upwards, spotting what someone with their eyes trained at the ceiling while they can't sleep might. It cycles between shots frequently, with little in the way of logic. And, in these barely lit snippets, faces are non-existent. Rather, legs and backs place people in sight, any glance someone's way feeling stolen, surreptitious and another signal that all isn't right. Even in its most blatant examples, and even exploring existential themes applicable to us all as the whole genre repeatedly does, horror flicks have always been a Rorschach test. What upsets one person when it's splashed across a screen mightn't raise a goosebump in another — but Skinamarink takes that concept a step further, building it into the entire process of watching its artificially grained-up imagery. Plenty that lurks in this always-flickering film is dim, fuzzy and hardly distinguishable. Scattered Lego blocks, a toddler's chatter telephone, corners of walls and ceilings, narrow hallways, fragments on the TV screen: they're among the movie's most distinctive visuals. What else one makes out in the coloured static is often up to them, although Ball does deploy some shots as jump scares. He uses the same approach to audio as well, with parts of the sparse dialogue indecipherable and almost inaudible, and not all of it earning on-screen subtitles. Most viewers of Skinamarink likely won't be watching it in their own childhood homes, but Ball wants to transport his audience there anyway: flailing around in the dark, hazily unsure of what's happening or why, stress stretched far further than one would like, and firmly anxious and alarmed. His film smartly understands how our imaginations can conjure up our biggest fears from nothing but the unknown, and gets ample mileage out of putting that idea into practice. And, when it can be seen in dark houses, it'd make a spectacular double with fellow recent horror flick We're All Going to the World's Fair. Both get creepy in everyday abodes, reflect upon screens, know the inescapable power of perturbing images, couldn't exist without online horror and feel like festering collective nightmares — insidiously and unshakeably so.
The days are getting brighter and the nights are getting warmer which means that winter is on its way out. And this skip toward spring is filled with added anticipation and excitement for Brisbane locals as the city prepares for the return of its much-loved annual arts celebration: Brisbane Festival. If you want to emerge from your winter hibernation with a bang, Brisbane Festival has you covered. From Friday, September 3–Saturday, September 25, the city will be reignited with colour, light, art and music in a three-week celebration of all things that are 'Brightly Brisbane'. This year's program features premiere productions, award-winning performances and takeovers of unexpected spaces with a combination of free and ticketed events to enjoy. To catch something complimentary, head to West Village anytime during the festival to see it illuminated by large botanical creations courtesy of Australian artist Amanda Parer. Or, keep your eyes peeled for the return of the Gouldian Finches that'll be landing atop iconic Brisbane landmarks once again. Want to see a world premiere? Check out the stage adaptation of Trent Dalton's novel Boy Swallows Universe which will hit the stage at QPAC, or head to Metro Arts to catch a wold first in This Ain't No Pussy Show. More of a music fan? Grab tickets to see Sheppard or local faves WAAX at Valley institution The Tivoli. Other must-sees include Ishmael, which sees Dead Puppet Society turn Moby Dick into a post-apocalyptic space saga and Let's Be Friends Furever, a community-sourced ode to dogs of all shapes and sizes. There's also Polytoxic's new and explosive show Demolition at Brisbane Powerhouse and jazzy drag party Razzle Dazzle Riot at South Bank Piazza. Plus, you can attend Woolloongabba's revamped Princess Theatre. Bris Fest's suburban Street Serenades series is returning, too — with the likes of Beddy Rays, Cheap Fakes and the Queensland Ballet doing shows all over the city. Family favourite Riverfire is back as well to close out the festival on September 25. Brisbane Festival will run from Friday, September 3—Saturday, September 25. For further details and to book, head to the festival's website. And if you're wondering what happens if lockdown pays us another visit, don't fret, as Brisbane Festival will provide quick and easy refunds to all ticket holders.
"My name is Jordan Belfort" explains Leonardo DiCaprio in the opening to Martin Scorsese's new film, The Wolf of Wall Street. "The year I turned 26, I made $49 million, which really pissed me off because it was three shy of a million a week." If you're a banker, that probably frames this film as something of a tragedy for you. For everyone else, it sets the tone for a semi-true story about a materialistic mercenary whose insatiable appetite for money and power saw him wreak havoc on both the stock market and his own family for two decades. Taking its name and story from Belfort's bestselling (and unsurprisingly self-aggrandising) biography, The Wolf of Wall Street largely confirms all the things you presumed you hated about unscrupulous investment bankers and even establishes a few new ones for you to despise. It is black comedy at its very darkest; a chronicle of depravity that at once amuses and nauseates. In his now award-winning turn as the eponymous 'wolf', DiCaprio holds nothing back — screaming, beaming and drooling his way through every scene with gleeful, passionate intensity. His best lines are often reserved for internal monologue, navigating by narration all the intricacies of drug consumption, prostitute procurement and, of course, stock market manipulation. Alongside him is Jonah Hill in a fantastically weird performance as Belfort's right-hand man Donnie Azoff. Grinning through hypnotically white teeth, Azoff is both Belfort's enabler and guardian — simultaneously safeguarding their friendship whilst steering it irreversibly down the road to inevitable ruin. Despite its cracking pace, The Wolf of Wall Street runs at just one minute short of three hours and definitely feels as long as it is. The cycle of sex, drugs and opulence admittedly entertains at first but soon becomes as unvarying and unremarkable as, presumably, it was in real life. That vapidity is then compounded by the lack of growth experienced by just about every character in the film. Belfort's transformation from wide-eyed newcomer to unapologetic sybaritic lasts precisely one (albeit probably the best) scene right at the start of the film, after which his character arc sits firmly on the 180. Lessons aren't learned, egos aren't checked and virtue never rears its head as the Wolf and his pack cruise, jet and blindly stumble from one orgiastic spectacle to the next. In that respect, The Wolf of Wall Street ultimately feels shallower and less arresting than, say, Oliver Stone's Wall Street or even Brian De Palma's Bonfire of the Vanities. All three unreservedly showcase the extraordinary grandiosity, greed and ruthlessness of men like Belfort, yet Wolf's predecessors prove that less is more when examining those for whom 'more' is the singular ambition. https://youtube.com/watch?v=iszwuX1AK6A
Put one foot in front of the other, keep going, and you’re on a journey — and sometimes an adventure that captures attention. Add a few interesting incidents, and/or intentions fuelled by self-discovery, and you might just have a book and then probably a film. In fiction, it worked for Forrest Gump; in reality, it worked for Into the Wild. It is in the footsteps of the latter, not the former, that Wild follows, as it turns the true trek of Cheryl Strayed into a cinematic hike. In 1994, Strayed (Reese Witherspoon) was 26 and struggling with her lot in life, lingering grief inspiring a raft of destructive decisions. With her marriage in tatters, and her daily routine in the doldrums, she opted to take time out to achieve what seemed an impossible feat: walking the 1770 kilometres of the Pacific Crest Trail alone, and truly coming to terms with her identity and existence in the process. Of course, helmer Jean-Marc Vallée and scribe Nick Hornby don’t just jump from point A to point B in telling Strayed’s tale on screen, nor is the considerable physical feat the point of their film. As might be expected from the linear-averse director of Cafe de Flore, as well as the emotionally astute screenwriter of An Education, flashbacks during Strayed’s wander prove as crucial as the walk itself. The usual array of dire events and moments of discovery furnish the familiar storyline, one that continually emphasises its message of persevering regardless of the circumstances. So too do glimpses of the naturalism that flavoured Vallée’s last feature (and one also based on real-life circumstances), Dallas Buyer’s Club, as well as Hornby’s witty way with words. There may be few surprises in the movie that evolves as a result, but that doesn’t mean that the voyage it depicts isn’t worth taking. Expressive cinematography and fine-tuned editing help immerse the audience in Strayed’s fractured yet persistent mindset and rough yet picturesque surroundings, creating an offering of style and sensitivity in charting a predictable triumph over adversity. As awards bodies have duly noticed, however, Wild is less remarkable for the plight it portrays and its manner of doing so, and more worthy of praise for the accompanying performances. Eschewing glamour, playing a real figure and inhabiting a gruelling experience are all common fodder for accolades and attention, yet Witherspoon is as committed to getting to the heart of her endeavour as the character she plays. Laura Dern radiates empathy and earnestness in the role of Strayed's mother, even if her scenes are tinged with tragic cliches. Indeed, that’s the film from the start of its travels until the end: weighty but always apparent, contemplative while laced with truisms, and making more than a modest attempt at striving for something beyond the usual.
Let's be clear: it's fine for fictional movies to take certain liberties. Consider physics: bending bullets mid-flight was a playful idea in 2008's otherwise woeful Wanted, just as ducking them entirely provided an exhilarating and groundbreaking sequence in The Matrix. How does Superman actually fly? Air pressure and negative mass, apparently. Who really cares — it's fun and they commit to it. Really, the only time you have to take movies to task is when they just get something categorically wrong. Like, wrong wrong; the opposite of right. If you've seen the trailer for Liam Neeson's new movie Non-Stop, you'll have seen the condemnable shot. As a 737 plummets towards the ocean, the pilot dramatically pulls back on the yoke like it's some sort of fighter jet and levels out the plane, occasioning a handgun to float skywards into the accepting hands of Neeson. Yes, 'up'. The gun floats up. Anybody who's ever flown before, or been in an elevator before, or moved on a planet with gravity before, knows how inertia works. It's Newton's first law. Not his 118th, which you could be forgiven for skipping. Not his second. His first. Are we nitpicking? Is a movie to be disparaged because of a single shot? No; this is just a suitably representative case for illustrating why Non-Stop is largely non-good. It begins with a shot of a gruff looking Liam Neeson, essentially because: Liam Neeson. Gone are the days of the nurturing single parent from Love Actually; now Neeson is all about the embodiment of grumpy. That characteristic was the perfect ingredient to 2008's Taken, but since then has felt increasingly platitudinous, pigeonholing a fine actor with proven range into a painfully narrow set of performances. In Non-Stop he's an alcoholic air marshal who — mid flight — is forced to deal with an anonymous blackmailer threatening to kill a passenger every 20 minutes until they receive their ransom. Both the premise and its initial execution are actually quite compelling, handled in a way that's just plausible enough to be entertaining and even thrilling. The threatening text messages appear on screen a la the BBC's Sherlock series, providing a periodic 20 minute menace that gives Non-Stop its ominous momentum (Newton's 18th law, probably). There are also some decent performances put in by the supporting cast, including Julianne Moore and Corey Stoll (House of Cards) as passengers, and Michelle Dockery (Downton Abbey), Lupita Nyong'o (12 Years A Slave) and Linus Roache (Batman Begins) as crew. It's a whodunnit at 40,000 feet, and for most of the film you're genuinely invested in the mystery. Such a shame, then, the way it ends. Fear not, there are no spoilers here, but suffice it to say the villain's motivation for the caper is stupefyingly illogical, and the final five minutes of dialogue contain just about every cliche in the book. There's an overwhelming sense of 'sure, why not?' to the writing; an unnecessary rush-job on what might well have been an excellent thriller had they just taken the time to imbue the finale with as much consideration as the setup. https://youtube.com/watch?v=nODrjQUR5YU
Some film festivals take audiences to corners of the globe they won't visit in the multiplex, shine a spotlight on different cinematic voices, and showcase the wealth of talent working beyond the English-speaking realm. That's not the British Film Festival's remit. Here, you'll find recognisable names and faces aplenty as the best new movies Old Blighty has to offer embark on a tour of the antipodes. Taking place between late October and early November, this year's lineup includes Andrew Garfield and Claire Foy in opening night film Breathe, which marks the directorial debut of The Lord of the Rings star Andy Serkis, as well as Nicole Kidman and Elle Fanning in the eagerly anticipated How to Talk to Girls at Parties. The former tells a true tale of a couple striving to overcome a death sentence from polio, while the latter is a queer sci-fi rock-punk comedy based on a Neil Gaiman short story and directed by Hedwig and the Angry Inch's John Cameron Mitchell. Yep, this program might speak the same language as Australians, but it's serving up a variety of stories. If you're going to put one flick to put on your must-see list, make it The Death of Stalin. It's the latest from The Thick of It and Veep creator Armando Iannucci, and features everyone from Steve Buscemi to Jeffrey Tambor to Michael Palin. Other highlights include Fanning again in Mary Shelley, a biopic about the writer behind Frankenstein that's helmed by Wadjda director Haifaa Al-Mansour, as well as England is Mine, with Dunkirk's Jack Lowden playing none other than Morrissey. Elsewhere, Saoirse Ronan stars in On Chesil Beach, her latest Ian McEwan adaptation after coming to fame in Atonement, while true story 6 Days recreates the 1980 storming of the Iranian embassy in London with Mark Strong, Jamie Bell and Abbie Cornish. BFF also boasts docos about Manolo Blahnik and Eric Clapton, a biopic about AA Milne and the genesis of Winnie the Pooh, and one of the last films to feature the late John Hurt in That Good Night. Looking back as well as forward, a selection of Agatha Christie adaptations round out the lineup. Timed to coincide with the new version of Murder on the Orient Express, the program includes the 1974 take on the same tale, plus three other classics. The 2017 British Film Festival will screen at Sydney's Palace Norton Street and Palace Verona from October 24 to November 15, Melbourne's Palace Cinema Como, Palace Balwyn, Palace Brighton Bay and The Astor Theatre from October 26 to November 15, and Brisbane's Palace Barracks and Palace Centro from October 25 to November 15. For more information and to buy tickets, visit the festival website.
A certain global pandemic might have limited Melbourne's creativity fix last year, but come May, the city more than make up for that artistic dry spell. Launching with the total lunar eclipse on Wednesday, May 26, the city is set to welcome Rising, a brand new festival of arts and culture and an ambitious celebration of place. Running for 12 nights and descending on venues and public spaces all across the city, it's set to deliver a huge 133 different projects and events involving more than 750 Victorian artists. Expect a large-scale celebration of music, art and performance, in what organisers are pushing to become the major cultural event for the entire Asia-Pacific region. After being forced to postpone its planned 2020 debut, Rising is now more than two years in the making. Its expansive program has been very much steered by the artists involved, with an impressive 36 specially commissioned works set to make their world premiere during the event. "We went to the artists of Victoria and asked them for bold and ambitious ideas of what a festival can now be," Co-Artistic Director Hannah Fox explained to Concrete Playground. "So that's really informed how we've programmed it. It's as much the vision of the artists of Victoria and Melbourne as it is ours. And they really were well ahead of us in understanding how to make work for a post-COVID world." Taking place across five distinct districts within the city, Rising will serve up a broad-ranging mix of music, large-scale public art, grand installations and site-specific performances, intertwined with a healthy sprinkling of food and wine. As Fox says, it's "very much about creating an experience in Melbourne that's completely unique to this place." [caption id="attachment_805136" align="aligncenter" width="1920"] Patricia Piccinini by Pete Tarasiuk[/caption] And there truly is something in this lineup for everyone to sink their teeth into. Excitingly, renowned Aussie artist Patricia Piccinini returns with her first major Melbourne project in almost two decades, with A Miracle Constantly Repeated unveiling a multi-sensory art experience housed within the rarely spied spaces on the top floor of Flinders Street Station. The festival's Chinatown precinct will play host to everything from a naked disco called Club Purple to technology-driven laneway art takeovers and soaring visual projections. At its heart, the Golden Square car park building will be transformed into a multi-faceted pop-up gallery, showcasing new works from the likes of Reko Rennie, Parallel Park, Lucy Bleach and more. Over at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl, it'll become a supernatural forest for The Wilds, complete with light shows, supersized sculptures, mirrored illusions and a pop-up ice-skating rink. The Capitol Theatre will play host to a performance lecture by Emmy-winning filmmaker Lynette Wallworth — and, at the Comedy Theatre, you'll catch a series of collaborations and special performances to tempt music fans of all persuasions, featuring New Zealand's Marlon Williams, Julia Jacklin, The Saints founder Ed Kuepper and loads more. Also embedded firmly throughout the Rising program is a focus on the city's connection to First Peoples' culture. "One thing that we wanted to be really clear on and committed to was about our place, and really thinking about Melbourne's history in terms of deepening the understanding of First Nations stories and living culture," Fox says. Accordingly, there'll be no shortage of opportunities to dig in deep, including works like storytelling sound pavilion Blak Box and The Lantern Company's community-made Wandering Stars — a 200-metre-long glowing eel undulating its way along the Yarra, to be enjoyed by audiences on the riverbank as they share First Peoples' knowledge of the space. Or, there's Tjanabi, one of the diverse food and wine experiences happening within the Melbourne Town Hall's Mess Hall pop-up precinct. Led by N'arweet Dr Carolyn Briggs AM, the event will see diners connecting with First Peoples' food culture as they feast their way through a multi-course dinner built around long-held techniques and much-honoured ingredients. "It's about the community coming back together again in a really major way, taking advantage of the freedom that we have and bringing the city back to life after being the hardest hit city in Australia," explains Fox. "It's a very significant kind of moment... and we feel very fortunate to be launching this now. I think audiences are absolutely ready." Rising runs from Wednesday, May 26–Sunday, June 6 at various locations around Melbourne. Head to the festival's website to check out the full program and grab tickets. Images: Wandering Stars; Blak Box, 2019, photographed by Teresa Tan.
Sparked by the pandemic, lockdown films aren't just an exercise in adapting to stay-at-home conditions — or a way to keep actors, directors and other industry professionals busy and working at a challenging time. The genre also provides a window into how the creatives behind its flicks view everyday life and ordinary people. Arising from a global event that's placed many of the planet's inhabitants in similar circumstances, these features tell us which stories filmmakers deem worth telling, which visions of normality they choose to focus on and who they think is living an average life. With Malcolm & Marie, a hotshot young director and an ex-addict were the only options offered. In Language Lessons, which premiered at this year's virtual Berlin Film Festival, a wealthy widower and a Spanish teacher were the movie's two choices. Now Locked Down directs its attention towards a CEO and a courier, the latter of which stresses that he's only in the gig because his criminal record has robbed him of other opportunities. Yes, these movies and their characters speak volumes about how Hollywood perceives its paying customers. That's not the only thing that Locked Down says. Verbose to a farcical degree — awkwardly rather than purposefully — this romantic comedy-meets-heist flick is primarily comprised of monologues, Zoom calls and bickering between its central couple. Well-off Londoners Linda (Anne Hathaway, The Witches) and Paxton (Chiwetel Ejiofor, The Old Guard) are weeks into 2020's first lockdown, and their ten-year relationship has become a casualty. Whether chatting to each other or virtually with others, both commit a torrent of words to the subject. Linda has decided they're done, which Paxton has trouble accepting. She's also unhappy with her high-flying job, especially after she's forced to fire an entire team online, but gets scolded by her boss (Ben Stiller, Brad's Status) for not telling her now-sacked colleagues they're still like family. Tired of driving a van, Paxton is willing to do whatever his employer (Ben Kingsley, Life) needs to climb his way up the ladder. That said, he's still tied to the road, with the ex-rebel's decision to sell his beloved motorbike — a symbol of his wilder youth, and its fun, freedom and risks — hitting hard. As Linda and Paxton argue about their past together and future potentially apart, vent frustrations about their locked-down present, and chat with co-workers (including Late Night's Mindy Kaling, The Father's Mark Gatiss, Jojo Rabbit's Stephen Merchant and The Last Vermeer's Claes Bang) and family members (Ballers co-stars and real-life couple Dulé Hill and Jazmyn Simon), at no point do they resemble real people. Rarely does anything that comes out of their mouths sound like something that someone might actually say, either. And, while the stresses of working remotely, being unable to leave the house and having normality put on hold should be relatable — we've all been through it — every aspect of Locked Down's script feels forced. That includes its relationship insights, which are hardly romantic, comedic or wise, even when showing that the most devoted of couples can find their patience tested when the days never seem to end. When Linda and Paxton's professional worlds collide, tasking her with removing a £3 million diamond from Harrods, him with ferrying it to safety and the pair with possibly stealing it for themselves, the plot development smacks of screenwriting laziness and convenience. Steven Knight does the scripting — and although Locked Down arose in a hurry, this isn't the first time that the screenwriter has penned something dull, grating, contrived and often ridiculous. When he's at his best, TV series Peaky Blinders, the Ejiofor-starring Dirty Pretty Things, David Cronenberg's Eastern Promises and Tom Hardy one-man-show Locke are the end results. At his worst, he pumps out the abysmal Hathaway-starring Serenity — a movie so awful that it almost defies belief — and now this. Locked Down's missteps are many, and plenty stem from the script. It repeatedly mistakes more dialogue for more drama, for instance. When it isn't insulting everyone who isn't a CEO, it's whining about pandemic restrictions, with its complaints outdated a year ago and ancient now. But director Doug Liman can't escape responsibility for Locked Down's many struggles. Fresh off of the long-delayed, also-terrible Chaos Walking, the filmmaker who shot banter so engagingly in Swingers, Go and even Mr and Mrs Smith just seems happy to let the camera keep rolling here. The man who made Edge of Tomorrow also treats his big Harrods heist as if he was Richard Linklater filming a walk-and-talk for a Before Midnight sequel called During Lockdown. Perhaps Liman expected his two leads to shine so brightly that they'd carry the two-hour film. They're asked to, but no one could sparkle with this material. Hathaway yells into pillows, swans around in colourful pyjama pants and dances to Adam and the Ants' 'Stand and Deliver' like she's on a stage trying to emote to people in the street outside the theatre. While Ejiofor fares slightly better — when he's not waxing lyrical about a hedgehog he's named Sonic (of course), licking opium from the couple's townhouse garden or airing stale stay-at-home grievances — the existential angst that's baked into his performance gets swallowed by the movie's overall listlessness. You could generously read Locked Down's tedium and monotony as intentionally reflecting the malaise of the last 15 months, but every choice that Liman and Knight makes refutes that idea. There's smugness and pompousness to this never-funny film instead, and it screams of its key creatives thinking they know what COVID-19-era life is like, and that they can turn the situation into something witty and thrilling. They don't and they can't, at least in this feature. Visually, the movie brightens at Harrods, but its third-act wander through the famed department store really just shows what could've been. A far shorter picture with less repetitive griping and more of absolutely anything else mightn't have made viewers feel as if they too are stuck home with someone they hate, for example. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TG-Mxzl88Q&feature=youtu.be
At Newstead's latest cafe, coffee isn't just made, served and drunk by eager caffeine fiends — it's also grown and roasted, too. Opening its first Brisbane outpost, Melbourne's beloved Industry Beans has combined a coffee spot, roastery, greenhouse and event space into one sprawling inner-city venue, converting a Proe Street warehouse into its new flagship location. If you're serious about your caffeine, you'll already be hankering for a cuppa. Founded by brothers Trevor and Steven Simmons, Industry Beans has picked up quite a following in its hometown since 2013, before launching in Sydney in 2019 to much fanfare. And if you're a newcomer to the coffee outfit, expect state-of-the-art equipment, specialty brews, an impressive range of brunch-style food and minimalist interior design flourishes. Given that Industry Beans' Melbourne joint was the first Aussie cafe to use the La Marzocco Modbar — a coffee machine that sits under the bench, rather than on the countertop — the equipment is an integral part of its new venue. Like their interstate counterparts, Brisbanites can watch as their coffees are whipped up on the Italian machine, with customers able to view the whole coffee making process. As for what you'll be drinking, Industry Beans has created a new concoction for its new digs: Newstead espresso blend. It also serves limited seasonal blends, offers up two new single origins each fortnight, and is particularly well-known for its cold brews. Choose between the tapioca pearl-filled Coffee Bubble Cup and the wattleseed Fitzroy Iced. Food-wise, the menu incorporates coffee in creative ways — try the coffee-rubbed wagyu burger (with chilli jam, cheddar and pickled zucchini on a brioche bun), the espresso-glazed beef rib (with potato foam, a truffle sphere, green pea puree and blueberry reduction), or the fruit sashimi with cold brew panna cotta and coffee caviar. Other highlights include porcini-dusted eggs with duxelles, artichoke hash and truffle oil, as well as the ginger beer pork belly with turmeric kimchi and XO mayonnaise. While you're sipping your cuppa or tucking into your daytime meal — with Industry Beans open from 7am–4pm daily — you'll be doing so in sleek surroundings. White and timber feature heavily in the cafe and its enclosed courtyard, as does natural light and greenery, including a full-grown tree in the main dining area. On the roastery side of things, the Newstead site covers the company's entire wholesale and cafe roasting operations in Queensland — and several varieties of coffee plants grow in the greenhouse, too. Find Industry Beans Brisbane at 18 Proe Street, Newstead — open from 7am–4pm daily. If you're choosing to go out and support local businesses, have a look at the latest COVID-19 advice and social-distancing guidelines from the Department of Health.
We've all seen films where star-crossed lovers ride the rollercoaster of romance. And we've all seen films where aspiring artists weather the ups and downs of chasing their dreams. Starting with a series of awkward encounters, and focusing on a struggling actress and a jazz pianist, La La Land offers both. But the thing that makes writer-director Damien Chazelle's musical follow-up to his breakout hit Whiplash shine isn't the familiar path it wanders down. Rather, it's how it takes audiences on that journey. When Mia (Emma Stone) and Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) first meet on the streets of Los Angeles, they're hurling ire at each other in traffic. When they finally get the chance to chat at a party, there's teasing in the air, with a romantic connection soon blooming. As their relationship continues, Sebastian inspires Mia to break free of the soul-crushing audition cycle and write her own one-woman play. In turn, he keeps working towards opening a jazz club, while also taking up the opportunity to pursue something more lucrative and concrete. So far, so straightforward. But all isn't fair when you're simultaneously trying to find love, seek your chosen career and carve out a fulfilling life. While it might not feature J.K. Simmons screaming "not my tempo" a la Whiplash, Chazelle's latest effort certainly doesn't shy away from the costs and consequences of trying to succeed. Nor does the film pull its punches when personal and professional matters fail to align. Instead, erupting with gorgeous colour and energetic choreography one moment, then taking time to brood and contemplate the next, La La Land offers a delicate balance of dreaming big while realising that not every wish can or will come true. Moreover, it does so while celebrating the Hollywood musical genre, and at the same time fashioning its trademarks and style into something bittersweet and melancholy. The traditions of grand song-and-dance flicks gets their time in the spotlight, though in truth they're only one part of the story. As characters shuffle through the streets and float through the air in '50s-style numbers, churn out '80s covers, play contemporary jazz, and croon mournful ballads, audiences will find themselves swept along the entire musical and emotional spectrum. For that, a fair share of the credit should go to co-stars Stone and Gosling. In their third on-screen pairing after Crazy, Stupid, Love and Gangster Squad, both are in stellar, swoon-worthy form. Whether they're belting out a tune, tapping their toes, or quietly expressing the feelings that lurk beneath, the duo navigate the melange that comprises La La Land with the same flair and thoughtfulness as their director, while sharing in his not-to-be-underestimated task. After all, at the heart of the luminous and lively film sits a stark truth: fantasising is easy, but embracing reality is hard. It's no surprise that the movie that results is clearly crafted with this in mind as it soars high but dives deep, evoking affectionate wonder, heartfelt tears and the knowledge that life usually lurks somewhere in between.
Choose the conventional, or go with something else. It's a question Mark Renton (Ewan McGregor) knows oh-so-well. Every time the former Edinburgh heroin addict turned Amsterdam accountant has unleashed one of his catchy "choose life" monologues — first in Trainspotting, now in the sequel — that's been his central dilemma. In the long-awaited follow-up to the 1996 cult classic that introduced him and his fellow layabout mates Spud (Ewen Bremner), Sick Boy (Jonny Lee Miller) and Begbie (Robert Carlyle), it's a choice that remains as relevant as ever. Initially, Renton chose skag. Then, he chose to fleece his friends after a lucrative drug deal so he could live life on the straight and narrow. Now, back in his old stomping grounds, he doesn't quite know which option to go for. Before long he crosses paths with the pals he hasn't seen for 21 years, finding Spud still struggling with his habit, and Sick Boy running both a failing pub and a blackmail racket with his Bulgarian girlfriend Veronika (Anjela Nedyalkova). At least Renton's safe from Begbie, who has long been locked up for his ultra-violent ways…at least, until he orchestrates a jailbreak. So it is that the characters reunite, in one way or another, and find themselves taking stock of their unfulfilling lives. But things are rather different than they were in '96. It was with the energetic drumbeat and aggressive drawl of Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life" that the foursome made their debut all those years ago, back when they were young, searching for fun, spoiling for trouble, hooked on various substances and sensations, and nothing about them was clean, orderly or clear-cut. Two decades later, an air of chaos still prevails – but in trying to make sense of the past to cope with the present and face the future, messiness is the very thing the characters are trying to eliminate. From a narrative perspective, that's easier said than done. While T2: Trainspotting spins its story around the futility of reliving former glories, director Danny Boyle seems unable to resist the urge to replicate, redefine and retell. There's nostalgia here, and melancholy, but also a sense of indulgence, with many a phrase, situation, scene, shot, soundtrack choice and even snippets of old footage harkening back to the original. Sometimes the movie successfully interrogates its history. Sometimes it's an empty rehash. Mostly, Renton sums it up perfectly: "choose history repeating itself". Still, it's a pleasure to catch up with the iconic characters again, as well as with the actors that play them – although sadly, the first film's female stars Kelly MacDonald and Shirley Henderson get barely more than cameos. McGregor and Miller are rarely better than when they're just catching up and talking rubbish together, and Carlyle still plays psychopathic with brutal flair. But, it's actually Bremner who steals the show — and his tragicomic Spud who receives the most fulfilling storyline, while also suffering most from the film's need for neatness. Ultimately, the battle between the engaging and the all-too-easy is what you'll find coursing through T2: Trainspotting's veins. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EsozpEE543w
When it was revealed that Watchmen was returning — with the comic book series getting the HBO treatment a decade after the movie of the same name — it felt like obvious news. Caped crusaders are big business on screens both small and silver, and every old superhero becomes new again at some point. But no one could've predicted just how this nine-part series would turn out, how timely it'd feel and how it'd take on an identity of its own. Set 34 years after the events of Alan Moore, Dave Gibbons and John Higgins' graphic novels, there's a reason that it has been scooping up all the awards for the past year. This version of Watchmen is still set in the same alternate reality; however, under showrunner Damon Lindelof (Lost, The Leftovers), it turns its focus to racially motivated violence and vigilantism. It's brought to the screen with a top-notch cast (including Regina King, Jeremy Irons, Don Johnson, Hong Chau and Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) and a bucket load of murky complexity.
9 to 5 and Working Girl hail from the genre. Everything from Office Space to The Assistant do, too. But films about working in offices, TPS reports and navigating the desk-based daily grind might eventually become a dying breed or a nostalgic retro curiosity. Because art always mirrors life, the gig economy may swoop in and draw the silver screen's focus instead. Sorry We Missed You already has in a resonant warts-and-all manner, and Lapsis now endeavours to do the same via a smart and searing sci-fi satire. There's much to ponder, probe and dissect about the mode of employment that's becoming the status quo, after all, and that isn't bound to change as it spreads and grows. Corporations don't just dictate workers' behaviour during office hours now, supplying a reliable wage and perks such as holiday and sick leave in return. Attempting to monopolise entire fields such as food and package delivery, transportation and caregiving, big companies (you know the ones) hire independent contractors, scrap the benefits, and keep them toiling on-demand or on-call just to earn the bare minimum. This new kind of technology-driven rat race has been normalised, and quickly — and what it means for the labour force, employment, capitalism, corporate greed, class structures and basic human rights demands to be interrogated in thousands of movies as sharp and scathing as this one. In Lapsis and its alternative vision of New York, quantum computing is the next big thing. It requires a network of giant metallic cubes connected via thick black wires, with stringing them together the gig economy's new growth area. It's such an in-demand field and so lucrative for workers, in fact, that cablers can earn thousands of dollars just for a weekend's work. They can also pay off their mortgages within months — if the advertisements spruiking the supposed new employment dream can be trusted, that is. Technology-phobic delivery driver Ray Tincelli (first-timer Dean Imperial) is sceptical, so much so that he won't even use a quantum computer himself, even though they're essential to viewing up-to-date websites and just generally existing in Lapsis' parallel world. But his unwell brother Jamie (fellow debutant Babe Howard) suffers from a pervasive form of exhaustion called omnia, and requires expensive medical treatment. After finding a way into the cabling industry via acquaintance Felix (James McDaniel, The Deuce), Ray's need to make a quick stash of hefty cash quickly overrides his misgivings. Ray doesn't drop his distrust of quantum computing and everything associated with it, of course. But, in trying to pay for medical care and just generally make enough money to get by, he's willing to compromise his ideals out of necessity — or he's forced to, really, given that he doesn't have any other options to take care of his brother and boost his finances. In choosing these motivations to drive his protagonist, writer/director Noah Hutton quickly taps into, caricatures and scratches away at the US today. Helming his first fictional feature after a decade of documentaries, including two about the oil industry, he keeps digging his claws into a society that treats health care as an optional extra for anyone who isn't wealthy, and thinks that basically working yourself to death is just how life should be if you haven't been successful enough in chasing the so-called American Dream. All of this pointed commentary exists in Lapsis' premise, and the deeper it dives into the cabling world, the more biting the film becomes. Hutton is playful, parodying the reality he's drawing upon, but he still sinks his teeth in — and hard. As Ray quickly learns, his new form of employment involves hiking through gorgeously leafy surroundings to get from cube to cube, all while wheeling a cart between his magnetic start and end points. While the terrain is bumpy, the job sounds straightforward and even leisurely and enjoyable, but it definitely isn't. Different routes pay more than others, getting lucrative gigs isn't easy unless you've been at it for years, and competition is fierce between cablers. Also complicating matters: robotic carts that scurry along day and night, and can steal routes from humans by overtaking them. By design, they push flesh-and-blood cablers to work harder — or risk expending all that effort for absolutely nothing. Then there's the fact that when Ray checks in on the trail, using the medallion he's been given, it flashes up the name 'Lapsis Beeftech'. That moniker instantly inspires scorn from his fellow workers, with only acerbic experienced cabler Anna (Madeline Wise, Crashing) willing to explain why. She also talks Ray through exactly what he's gotten himself into, how the companies behind the job treat their contractors, the pushback during past attempts at unionisation and the small ways that cablers can get the upper hand over their mechanical adversaries. Savaging both expensive and quack medical treatments as well — and the fact that they're the types that largely garner attention — Lapsis is undeniably dense in ideas. That said, it's never overstuffed or overcomplicated, and it doesn't spread its many insights and statements too thin. Indeed, as both a screenwriter and a visual storyteller, Hutton keeps striking a perfect balance. He layers his film with reflections upon much about work in the 21st century. He spins an involving dystopian tale, too. And, he doesn't let either the feature's loaded commentary or its involving world-building feel like it's dragging the other along with it, or dragging it down for that matter. Stepping into a high-tech world with a low-fi (and low-budget) approach, Lapsis' analogies might be clearcut, but they're meant to be. Like Sorry to Bother You, one of the other excellent movies of the past few years that tore strips off of so much that we've come to accept as standard, this is a shrewd film that's direct about its targets at every turn. It's also savvily crafted, stems from clear anger and overflows with surprises. The engaging cast, including the wily Imperial, is one such unexpected gem — and so is this astute, complex and compelling delight itself, including in its memorable final stretch.
Since making her movie debut as "girl in a blue truck" in Dazed and Confused, then popping up in a Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequel, Renee Zellweger has enjoyed quite the career. She belted out a tune on a rooftop in Empire Records, told Tom Cruise that he had her at hello in Jerry Maguire and became everyone's favourite romantically challenged Briton in three Bridget Jones flicks. Then, she razzle-dazzled her way to an Oscar nomination in Chicago, before nabbing a coveted statuette for Cold Mountain. It's an impressive resume. So, when we say that Judy may just be Zellweger's best work, we don't make that statement lightly. Stepping into a famous figure's shoes might be one of acting's most difficult feats, especially when that person is cinema royalty, but Zellweger doesn't ever feel like she's just impersonating Judy Garland. Rather, she wears Garland's ruby slippers as if they're her own — and they fit perfectly. Technically, because Judy is set in the year leading up to the eponymous star's death, Zellweger doesn't literally don that iconic pair of footwear, with the film enlisting newcomer Darci Shaw to do the honours in flashbacks to Garland's teenage years. Zellweger doesn't need glittering shoes to inhabit the part, though; with nuance and intensity simmering through her performance, she shines brighter than any jewel-toned item of clothing ever has. While the aforementioned leaps back into the past show where Garland started, the expectations placed upon her and the destructive impact of her showbiz childhood, Judy spends the bulk of its duration in 1969. Garland is 46, with more than four decades of experience to her name, but she's scrounging for work. Deemed unemployable by Hollywood's insurance agencies, which nixes her cinema stardom, The Wizard of Oz, Meet Me in St. Louis and A Star Is Born talent sings and dances through touring stage shows instead. Both broke and homeless, she's trying to provide for two of her children (Bella Ramsey and Lewin Lloyd). So, when she reluctantly takes a long series of gigs in London, it's largely to earn enough cash so she doesn't have to keep travelling away from her kids afterwards. Given the above state of affairs, plus years of using prescription pills to stay awake and to get to sleep (and drinking as well), Garland isn't in prime physical, emotional or mental health during Judy's period of focus. Remaining in the public eye since she was two has clearly taken its toll, understandably. And, while Garland knows this, she's addicted to the thrill of being in the spotlight — and she has an ego to with it, too, as her interactions with her British minder (Jessie Buckley) demonstrate. Still, what a joy it is to spend time with Zellweger's version of Garland, and not only when she's wowing crowds while strutting across the stage. In an always hypnotic, often heartbreaking portrayal that illustrates the star's on-stage strength and behind-the-scenes sorrow in tandem, Zellweger turns every scene into a revelation. Watching as Garland dotes over her youngest offspring, attends a party with her twenty-something daughter Liza Minnelli (Gemma-Leah Devereux) and falls swiftly for her fifth husband (Finn Wittrock), viewers see the yearning heart of someone who just wants to love and be loved in return. In her messier moments, of which there are many, we feel the kind of aching pain that all the cheering fans in the world can't fix. And, when she's crooning a greatest-hits collection from across her career — including 'Get Happy' and, of course, 'Over the Rainbow' — we understand why she keeps doing what she does even when it's almost killing her. For existing Garland aficionados, the result is like trotting down the yellow brick road — you can bask in all the glorious details you've ever wanted, while also getting a glimpse behind the curtain at the stark reality behind the magic. And if The Wizard of Oz is your only real frame of reference for Garland, Judy wholeheartedly explains that the now-80-year-old classic was neither the beginning nor the end of her tale. Accordingly, in adapting stage musical Over the Rainbow for the screen, director Rupert Goold (TV's The Hollow Crown) and writer Tom Edge (The Crown) have hit the biopic jackpot. There's a sense of formula at work in Judy's storytelling, as can happen in showbiz portraits, but it captures its subject in a winning way. And, come next year, Zellweger will likely be winning plenty more awards for her efforts — for such a captivating performance that does justice to a legend, she deserves to. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C61wB6DTwiA
I've said it before and I'll say it again: Wednesdays are where it's at. Wednesdays are the new Fridays, and Fridays don't exist any more. Nanna Nights are an excellent way to initiate yourself into mid-week shenanigans, even if they sound tame at first. Be aware, though, Nanna Nights are not something to be sniffed at. They aren't based on what your nanna does specifically, but more on what you can be expected to be like one day, as a product of Gen Y. Completing the impressive sequence of acts (Numbers Radio, The Jungle Giants) for 2011 are Inland Sea, the home grown 10-piece collective. This Brisbane ten-tet have a surprisingly easygoing sound for such a large arrangement of musicians, and are offering their lovely folk sound to the equally easygoing Nanna Nights. They've enjoyed some significant airplay on Triple J as Unearthed alumni, and have noted that they are on the self-confessed 'Constant Never-ending Tour', but Inland Sea really just like any other band – they enjoy their earthworm collection and are amateur astronomers. As stipulated by their management, and edited by them, their music evokes the awe, majesty, melancholy and bittersweet joy of happy cartoon dancing whales on salvia. I love them even more now. Sit back and share a brew or two with your nearest and dearest and do your nanna proud by chillbangin' with a shandy and some sweet tunes from the crazy Inland Sea kids at Vinyl.
UPDATE, May 22, 2021: Possessor is available to stream via Google Play, YouTube Movies and iTunes. From the moment he decided to become a filmmaker, Brandon Cronenberg wasn't likely to direct romantic comedies. He could've, or period dramas, action flicks or anything else that took his fancy. He still can. However, his surname is already synonymous with not only the most unnerving genre there is, but with body horror specifically. For decades, that status was his father's doing. Including Shivers, Scanners, Videodrome and The Fly, David Cronenberg is the field's undisputed cinematic master. Accordingly, Brandon's decision to craft not one but two features in the same mould isn't the least bit surprising — but just how extraordinary 2012's Antiviral and now Possessor are wasn't ever guaranteed. If either Cronenberg wants to make a movie about passing down the penchant for visceral thrills and the ability to smartly serve up savage explorations of corporeal terrors via genes (based on their own experiences, naturally), that's something that plenty of people would watch. Brandon's current foray into body horror deploys a completely different idea, of course, although someone isn't completely responsible for their own choices here either. In Possessor, technology permits assassins to hijack the bodies of people close to their targets, letting them assume not just their identities but their physical presence to fulfil their murderous missions. Tasya Vos (Andrea Riseborough, The Grudge) is one such killer, and she is so exacting and accomplished at her job that her no-nonsense boss and handler Girder (Jennifer Jason Leigh, Annihilation) keeps trying to push her further. Such work comes with consequences, though, with Tasya slowly estranging herself from her husband (Rossif Sutherland, Catastrophe) and young son (Gage Graham-Arbuthnot, Becky). During the luridly shot undertaking that opens the movie and the assignment that the often neon-hued flick spends the bulk of its time on, Tasya also begins to realise that separating herself from the folks she's temporarily inhabiting is becoming difficult. In the first job, Tasya's consciousness takes over a woman called Holly (Gabrielle Graham, On the Basis of Sex) to gun down a high-flying lawyer at a swanky hotel party. Every mission should end with extraction via suicide — the possessed person's, as forced by the possessor, who then returns to their own bag of bones, flesh and blood — but Tasya can't pull the trigger on her host body. When she's later sent into Colin (Christopher Abbott, Vox Lux), the fiancé of the daughter (Tuppence Middleton, Mank) of a ruthless business mogul (Sean Bean, Snowpiercer), she similarly struggles to retain control. As depicted in gory detail, being able to stick a probe into your head and mind-hop into someone else's may be pure science fiction, but the younger Cronenberg intentionally apes The Matrix when he shows how the tech behind his premise operates. Our present analogues to Possessor's body-jumping concept exist in the online world, virtual reality, avatars, catfishing, trolling and even just anonymous commenting while you're tapping at your keyboard or phone, and this film makes it ferociously clear that it all has a significant cost. Cronenberg isn't just taking cues from his dad — whose 1999 film eXistenZ, also starring Jason Leigh, toyed in somewhat similar territory — or from a beloved sci-fi franchise. As many works that reflect upon humanity's true nature via dystopian futures tend to, the writer/director adds an entry to both the body horror and science fiction canons that seems like it might've appeared in a feverish dream after a life spent consuming those exact types of tales. But Possessor also always feels like a unique creation, and never a film puppeteered by its influences in the same way that Tasya pulls the strings of her marks. Cronenberg's feature boasts far too much of its own chilliness, daring and determination, as well as the filmmaker's fondness for particularly gruesome imagery, to merely be the sum of its various sources of inspiration. Possessor also has its own wellspring of nihilism pumping through its veins, not only tackling big notions in a bold and ultra-violent way, but proving deeply, gut-wrenchingly, existentially dark. It's a bleak line of thinking, positing that nothing means anything in a world where anyone can be someone else without knowing, corporate interests always take precedence over individual needs, and invading the privacy of people's homes, hardware and heads is a common and lucrative business model. It's also a wave that Possessor rides. But the film needs two people to hang these ponderings from, finding them in the sensational Riseborough and the also exceptional Abbott. With hair almost as pale as her skin, there's a ghostly look to Riseborough and a similar feel to her performance, instantly illustrating how all of Tasya's time spent secreting away in other people's guises is eroding her sense of self. Abbott, playing a man whose body has been snatched but whose mental energy refuses to quietly subside, is a ball of continued conflict and also near the best he's ever been on-screen — on par with 2015's James White and this year's Black Bear, in fact. In Cronenberg's aforementioned directorial debut Antiviral, he imagined a future where our consumption-driven urges and obsession with celebrity have evolved to a disturbing point. Not only do people willingly get infected by the same viruses that afflict their favourite stars, using the latter's very own cells, but a literal meat market exists that cultivates edible proteins from the same source. That's the kind of mind that would not only conjure up Possessor's equally disturbing world, but also ground it in so many accurate observations about modern life that sometimes it's difficult to know if it's the imagery or the ideas that's causing a deep-seated reaction. The answer is both, but Cronenberg definitely inherited his father's knack for creating a nightmarish, grisly and piercing yet sleek and haunting spectacle — and for making brilliant and brutal movies that cannot be forgotten. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFqCTIdF7rs&feature=youtu.be
Calling all Amy Poehler fans — the beautiful tropical fish, powerful musk ox and noble land mermaid of Netflix flicks is here. The Saturday Night Live and Parks and Recreation star has directed her first film, a comedy that'll hit the streaming platform in May. Here's hoping it'll earn all of the unusual compliments that Leslie Knope has showered upon Ann Perkins. Turning a vino lover's dream weekend getaway with the gang into a movie, Wine Country follows a group of friends who head to Napa to celebrate Rebecca (Rachel Dratch)'s 50th birthday. Poehler plays Abby, the organiser of the gang; Maya Rudolph co-stars as a worn out mother desperate for a break; and fellow Saturday Night Live on-screen alum Ana Gasteyer, plus ex-SNL writers Paula Pell and Emily Spivey, all round out the besties. Also featuring: Tina Fey (of course) and Jason Schwartzman. If you've had a Parks and Recreation-shaped hole in your life since the acclaimed sitcom ended, adored Sisters or just can't get enough of these funny ladies in general, prepare to chuckle and celebrate as the film shows just what happens when a boozy break, lifelong friends and facing a huge milestone all mix. The first trailer has just dropped, and it comes with plenty of laughs: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aW_0MO-XKog Wine Country releases on Netflix on Friday, May 10. Image: Colleen Hayes.
What a difference Mads Mikkelsen can make. What a difference the stellar Danish actor can't, too. The Another Round and Riders of Justice star enjoys his Wizarding World debut in Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore, taking over the part of evil wizard Gellert Grindelwald from Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald's Johnny Depp — who did the same from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them's Colin Farrell first, albeit in a scripted change — and he's impressively sinister and engagingly insidious in the role. He needs to be: his fascist character, aka the 1930s-set movie's magical version of Hitler, wants to eradicate muggles. He's also keen to grab power however he must to do so. But a compelling casting switch can't conjure up the winning wonder needed to power an almost two-and-a-half-hour film in a flailing franchise, even one that's really just accioing already-devoted Harry Potter fans into cinemas. Capitalising upon Pottermania has always been the point of the Fantastic Beasts movies. Famously, this series-within-a-series springs not from a well-plotted novel, where the eight Boy Who Lived flicks originated, but from a guide book on magical creatures. That magizoology text is mentioned in the very first HP tome, then arrived IRL four years later, but it was only after the Harry Potter films ended that it leapt to screens. The reason: showing the Wizarding World's powers-that-be the galleons, because no popular saga can ever conclude when there's more cash to grab (see also: Star Wars and Game of Thrones). For Fantastic Beasts, the result was charming in the initial movie and dismal in its followup. Now, with The Secrets of Dumbledore, it's about as fun as being bitten by a toothy textbook. Nearly four years have passed since The Crimes of Grindelwald hit cinemas, but its successor picks up its wand where that dull sequel left off. That means reuniting with young Albus Dumbledore, who was the best thing about the last feature thanks to Jude Law (The Third Day) following smoothly in Michael Gambon and Richard Harris' footsteps. Actually, it means reuniting Dumbledore with Grindelwald first. And, it involves overtly recognising that the pair were once lovers. The saga that's stemmed from JK Rowling's pen isn't historically known for being inclusive, much like the author's transphobic statements — and it's little wonder that getting candid about such a crucial romantic connection feels cursory and calculating here, rather than genuine. The same applies to The Secrets of Dumbledore's overall message of love and acceptance, which can only echo feebly when stemming from a co-screenwriter (alongside seven-time HP veteran Steve Kloves) who's basically become the series' off-screen Voldemort. Referencing Dumbledore and Grindelwald's amorous past serves the narrative, of course, which is the real reason behind it — far more than taking any meaningful steps towards LGBTQIA+ representation. Years prior, the two pledged not to harm each other, binding that magical promise with blood, which precludes any fray between them now. Enter magizoologist Newt Scamander (Eddie Redmayne, The Trial of the Chicago 7) and his pals. Well, most of them. Newt's assistant Bunty (Victoria Yeates, Call the Midwife), brother Theseus (Callum Turner, Emma), No-Maj mate Jacob (Dan Fogler, The Walking Dead), Hogwarts professor Lally (Jessica Williams, Love Life) and Leta Lestrange's brother Yusuf Kama (William Nadylam, Stillwater) are accounted for, while former friend Queenie (Alison Sudol, The Last Full Measure) has defected to Grindelwald. As for the latter's sister Tina (Katherine Waterston, The World to Come), she's spirited aside, conspicuously sitting Operation Avoid Muggle Genocide out. Dumbledore's plan as the movie hops from New York and Hogwarts to Berlin and Bhutan: to stop Grindelwald via Newt and company, and also stop him seeing the future to rig an election. To put his new world order into effect, Grindelwald needs to become the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, but a fantastic beast just might foil his chances. The Secrets of Dumbledore is largely a grey-hued, grimly serious political thriller that frequently feels like it just happens to take place amid wand-waving folks (its nods to actual history are that blatant), but it occasionally remembers to include the critters mentioned in its moniker. That said, courtesy of a cute but mostly superfluous scene with Newt, Theseus and a hip-wiggling scorpion dance, it fares better at acknowledging mythical animals than spilling many Dumbledore secrets. A villain swap, a half-hearted queer romance, past protagonists shunted off or playing second exploding tuba to fan favourites, a prequel series that doesn't recall what it was originally about, a title that's barely fulfilled: these aren't the ingredients for a great or even average movie, let alone an entrancing one. While some of the above occurs for sound reasons — Law swiftly outshining Redmayne in the last picture, for instance — The Secrets of Dumbledore is the filmic equivalent of throwing whatever's at hand into a cauldron and expecting a life-changing potion to bubble up. It's stitched together from shards of ideas, glimmers of possible good intentions and heavy sprinklings of nostalgia (quidditch and all), but the most it manages to be is perfunctory. Helming his seventh Wizarding World instalment, director David Yates retains a knack for setpieces at least — but even with plenty of chases and duels, and with his technical team doing much of the feature's heavy lifting, the visual wonders are still few and far between. Two more Fantastic Beasts entries are currently slated; you don't need Grindelwald's sorcery to know HP won't leave screens anytime soon. But as The Secrets of Dumbledore demonstrates over and over, this saga struggles with purpose. That isn't surprising given that keeping the series going by any means necessary, and trying to keep everyone who grew up loving all things Potter in the late 90s/early 00s happy as well, remain its chief aims. Those kids are now adults, which is why the Fantastic Beasts movies focus on fully grown witches and wizards rather than Hogwarts students. Little else here has matured with them, though, or been fleshed out — despite obvious World War II parallels and nods to today's divided times playing key parts. Call it arrested franchise development, call it a floundering spell, call it an exercise in disenchantment: they all fit, and The Secrets of Dumbledore doesn't have the elixir, incantation or even ambition to magic up anything else.
Science fiction has never been afraid of unfurling its futuristic visions on the third rock from the sun, but the resulting films have rarely been as earthy as The Creator. Set from 2065 onwards, after the fiery destruction of Los Angeles that could've come straight out of Terminator 2: Judgment Day, this tale of humanity battling artificial intelligence is visibly awash with technology that doesn't currently exist — and yet the latest movie from Monsters, Godzilla and Rogue One: A Star Wars Story director Gareth Edwards couldn't look or feel more authentic and grounded. That isn't a minor feat. And, it doesn't simply stem from making a sci-fi flick with heart, which isn't a new move. Don't underestimate the epic yet intimate impact of seeing bold imaginings of what may come that have been lovingly and stunningly integrated with the planet's inherent splendour, engrained in everyday lives, and meticulously ensure that the line between what the camera can capture and special effects can create can't be spotted; The Creator hasn't. So, as undercover military operative Joshua (John David Washington, Amsterdam) is tasked with saving the world — that go-to science-fiction setup — robots walk and talk, spaceships hover, and everything from cars to guns are patently dissimilar to the planet's present state. Flesh-and-blood people aren't the only characters with emotional journeys and stakes, either, with AI everywhere. Even if The Creator didn't tell its viewers so, there's zero doubting that its events aren't taking place in the here and now. Edwards and cinematographers Greig Fraser (The Batman) and Oren Soffer (Fixation) know how to make this flight of fancy both appear and seem tangible, though. Indeed, The Creator earns a term that doesn't often come sci-fi's way when it comes to aesthetics: naturalistic. Also don't underestimate how gloriously and immersively that the film's striking and sprawling southeast Asian shooting locations not only gleam, but anchor the story. Edwards and his team, including production designer James Clyne (another Star Wars alum), have given their film human skin, then, amid all the tech workings. That's one of the big leaps forward in Edwards' screenplay with his Rogue One scribe Chris Weitz, too, with The Creator delivering its main examples of AI in humanoid form. These droids can easily be mistaken for something less cybernetic if the whirling circles where ears would normally be are covered, plus their exposed metal necks and backs of their heads as well. As Joshua discovers, they're also easy to connect with. The feature itself earns that same description — as it splashes two-plus hours of spectacular sights across the screen, this is big-thinking and big-feeling science fiction not just about where technology might lead, what that means for humans and how the species could spark such a situation, but also about empathy. Humans and AI are long past co-existing in happy harmony when The Creator initially drops into Joshua's life, but he's a glowing expectant dad enjoying domestic bliss with his wife Maya (Gemma Chan, Don't Worry Darling) anyway. They're in New Asia, the artificial intelligence-sympathising part of the world after Los Angeles went nuclear, and she considers machines her family. The catch: his special forces gig, then a raid with a tragic outcome. Five years later, Joshua is back stateside, grief-stricken and on clean-up duties when he's brought back in by General Andrews (Ralph Ineson, The Northman) and Colonel Howell (Allison Janney, To Leslie). On this latest mission, eradicating AI's enigmatic mastermind Nimrata — and therefore wiping out AI at the same time — is still the aim, just made more urgent by news of a war-ending weapon that's capable of annihilating humanity's beam-wielding and village-bombing winged NOMAD vessel. But Joshua doesn't expect to meet android child Alphie (newcomer Madeleine Yuna Voyles) while going about the job. As his resume attests, Edwards is head over heels for his chosen genre. His pre-Monsters gigs also span visual effects, which makes The Creator's seamless appearance hardly surprising. In fact, on his feature debut — a flick that's one of the great first films — he was also the movie's director of photography and production designer, and took care of the VFX, doing the latter at home in his bedroom. Back away from franchise land after his Godzilla and Star Wars stints, he's at his best making original sci-fi again, this time with a picture that grapples deeply with the big existence-changing development of our time. The Creator eagerly stands out there as well, clutching onto a message of acceptance in its central conflict. Shining with ambition, it's also a rarity with such an utter (and welcome) lack of past chapters, books, flicks, TV shows and any form of pre-existing intellectual property behind it, although it does worship a swathe of inspirations. There's a difference between gleaning that a filmmaker watched and adored Blade Runner, District 9, Aliens and Dune, though — plus Apocalypse Now, Akira, The Matrix, Interstellar, Laputa, Castle in the Sky and, yes, Star Wars — and sitting through a movie that just brazenly ticks through element after element from other sources. The Creator never falls into the second category, instead playing like it's its own machine rather than a Frankenstein's droid built from other tech's parts. The narrative, the world-building, the visuals (even with Rogue One's Fraser earning an Academy Award for Denis Villeneuve's Dune: Part One), the heartfelt mood, the down-to-earth and old-school vibe, the sound (with a score by fellow Dune: Part One Oscar-winner Hans Zimmer, and also the exceptional use of Radiohead's 'Everything in its Right Place'), the ideas: they all ensure that this isn't cobbled together from spare components. So do the excellent performances by Washington in Tenet mode and first-timer Voyles, who convey a poignant rapport while selling their individual and shared yearnings. Also beyond a doubt: that AI couldn't have made this movie (a timely thought given that it arrives to tackle the topic as Hollywood's strikes have been raging partly due to that very possibility). The Creator feels like it has fingerprints everywhere. As its magnificent visual effects glisten so convincingly that they don't resemble VFX at all even though they clearly are, the film looks carefully and affectionately crafted. When its dialogue is a touch obvious and Joshua's path a tad predicable, that still smacks of relatable and inescapable human nature. And, as it tensely and thrillingly — weightily, too — ponders war, hate, fear, military control, the fast jump to divide, what technology can destroy and give alike, and who sits on which side of the humans-versus-AI clash, The Creator happily gets thorny. Edwards seems sincerely fascinated with every thing, person, gadget, backdrop, sight, sound, notion, theme and musing he packs inside his film. Matching that response couldn't be a more instinctive reaction.
There are haunted houses, and then there's the Winchester Mystery House. Forget the occasional swinging door and creaky floorboard – in this sprawling abode, things go bump both day and night. That's the story, anyway, one spooky enough to establish the San Jose residence as a popular tourist attraction for almost a century. The seven-storey building dates back to 1884, contains 161 rooms and was under construction for nearly 40 years. It's also said to be full of ghostly inhabitants. No wonder Hollywood came knocking. Indeed, in another life, the history of the mansion could've come with an M. Night Shyamalan-style twist, or become one of Guillermo del Toro's gothic playgrounds, with both filmmakers once interested in turning it into a movie. Instead, the spirits of their unrealised projects join the many things haunting Winchester, not the least of which is squandered potential. Try as they might, Australian directors Peter and Michael Spierig (Daybreakers, Jigsaw) just can't capitalise on their real-world premise – and that's despite their convincing command of genre fundamentals and an against-type Helen Mirren as their star. The beloved British actress plays the widowed Sarah Winchester, heir by marriage to the Winchester firearms-manufacturing firm. Mourning the loss of her husband and infant daughter, Sarah has dedicated much of her life to building her enormous home — all while basing its unconventional, ever-changing design on otherworldly instructions. That doesn't please the company's board, who enlist psychiatrist Dr. Eric Price (Jason Clarke) to attest to her diminished capacity. Addicted to laudanum, the good doctor is haunted by demons of his own, and soon discovers there's more than a well-paying job waiting for him at Winchester manor. If prowling around an eerie house was all it took to make an effective horror flick, Winchester would be primed for success. Once again building upon their growing genre resume, the Spierigs prove up to the task both visually and tonally, conjuring up an unnerving mood and ensuring the maze-like setting is as creepy as it should be. They're a little too fond of jump-scares, but at least they make enough of them count. Sadly, the same can't be said for the movie's obvious plotting and terrible dialogue, with the twin writer-directors — along with co-scribe Tom Vaughan (Unstoppable) – making every expected choice and saddling their characters with some truly awful lines. That said, enlisting Mirren and Clarke, along with Sarah Snook (Predestination) and Eamon Farren (Twin Peaks: The Return) does help lift the film's fortunes somewhat. Specifically, there's plenty of fun to be had watching Mirren jump into another unexpected genre after she popped up in The Fate of the Furious just last year. The veteran actress turns in a committed performance filled with quiet resolve — all while decked out in gorgeously gothic outfits. She can't make an average movie great or even good, but at least she helps keep it from being totally forgettable. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TfzDq6-vCZc
To write notable things, does someone need to live a notable life? No, but sometimes they do anyway. To truly capture the bone-chilling, soul-crushing, gut-wrenching atrocities of war, does someone need to experience it for themselves? In the case of Siegfried Sassoon, his anti-combat verse could've only sprung from someone who had been there, deep in the trenches of the Western Front during World War I, and witnessed its harrowing horrors. If you only know one thing about the Military Cross-winner and poet going into Benediction, you're likely already aware that he's famed for his biting work about his time in uniform. There's obviously more to his story and his life, though, as there is to the film that tells his tale. But British writer/director Terence Davies (Sunset Song) never forgets the traumatic ordeal, and the response to it, that frequently follows his subject's name as effortlessly as breathing. Indeed, being unable to ever banish it from one's memory, including Sassoon's own, is a crucial part of this precisely crafted, immensely affecting and deeply resonant movie. If you only know two things about Sassoon before seeing Benediction, you may have also heard of the war hero-turned-conscientious objector's connection to fellow poet Wilfred Owen. Author of Anthem for Damned Youth, he fought in the same fray but didn't make it back. That too earns Davies' attention, with Jack Lowden (Slow Horses) as Sassoon and Matthew Tennyson (Making Noise Quietly) as his fellow wordsmith, soldier and patient at Craiglockhart War Hospital — both for shell shock. Benediction doesn't solely devote its frames to this chapter in its central figure's existence, either, but the film also knows that it couldn't be more pivotal in explaining who Sassoon was, and why, and how war forever changed him. The two writers were friends, and also shared a mutual infatuation. They were particularly inspired during their times at Craiglockhart as well. In fact, Sassoon mentored the younger Owen, and championed his work after he was killed in 1918, exactly one week before before Armistice Day. Perhaps you know three things about Sassoon prior to Benediction. If so, you might be aware of Sassoon's passionate relationships with men, too. Plenty of the film bounces between his affairs with actor and singer Ivor Novello (Jeremy Irvine, Treadstone), socialite Stephen Tennant (Calam Lynch, Bridgerton) and theatre star Glen Byam Shaw (Tom Blyth, Billy the Kid), all at a time in Britain when homosexuality was outlawed. There's a fated air to each romantic coupling in Davies' retelling, whether or not you know to begin with that Sassoon eventually (and unhappily) married the younger Hester Gatty (Kate Phillips, Downton Abbey). His desperate yearning to hold onto someone, and something, echoes with post-war melancholy as well. That said, that sorrow isn't just a product of grappling with a life-changing ordeal, but also of a world where everything Sassoon wants and needs is a battle — even if there's a giddy air to illegal dalliances among London's well-to-do. Benediction caters for viewers who resemble Jon Snow going in, naturally, although Davies doesn't helm any ordinary biopic. No stranger to creating on-screen poetry with his lyrical films — or to biopics about poets, after tackling Emily Dickinson in his last feature A Quiet Passion — the filmmaker steps through Sassoon's tale like he's composing evocative lines himself. Davies has always been a deeply stirring talent; see: his 1988 debut Distant Voices, Still Lives, 2011's romance The Deep Blue Sea and 2016's Sunset Song, for instance. Here, he shows how it's possible to sift through the ins and outs of someone's story, compiling all the essential pieces in the process, yet never merely reducing it down to the utmost basics. Some biopics can resemble Wikipedia entries re-enacted for the screen, even if done so with flair, but Benediction is the polar opposite. It must be unthinkable to Davies that his audience could simply pick up standard details about Sassoon by watching a depiction of his existence, rather than become immersed in everything about him — especially how he felt. Benediction plays like the work of someone who wouldn't even dream of such an approach in their worst nightmares. That's true in Lowden's scenes, with the bulk of the movie focused on the younger Sassoon. It remains accurate when Peter Capaldi (The Suicide Squad) features as the older Sassoon, including opposite Gemma Jones (Ammonite) as the older Hester. When the latter graces the picture's immaculately shot frames (by Harlots, Gentleman Jack and upcoming The Handmaid's Tale season five cinematographer Nicola Daley), he's a portrait of man embittered, and he's utterly heartbreaking. Lowden and Capaldi's performances are as critical to Benediction as Sassoon himself, and Davies as well. They're that fine-tuned, that tapped into the whirlwind of emotions swirling through the man they're playing, and that awash with anger, determination, longing, loneliness, defiance, despair, resentment and tragedy. (Yes, that's a complicated and chaotic mix, and 100-percent steeped in everything that's thrown Sassoon's way). As overseen by Davies, Lowden and Capaldi are also two halves of a whole, not that either actor gives anything less than their all, let alone a fraction of a portrayal. It's devastating to see how and why Lowden's charisma eventually gives way to Capaldi's loathing, but that's the plight that both men are charged with surveying, relaying and helping echo from the screen — exceptionally so. For all of the feeling coursing through Benediction — including when using archival war footage to hark back to the combat that so altered his central figure, rather than taking the 1917 re-creation route — Davies remains a rigorous, fastidious and controlled filmmaker. The feature's 137-minute running time feels as lengthy as it is. While there's a rhythm to Alex Mackie's (Mary Shelley) editing, the movie is methodically paced. Every single image seen is meticulous in its composition, too. Watching Benediction is an active act, rather than a case of being swept away. That matches everything that the film conveys about Sassoon's experiences and the turmoil they caused him, of course. Still, the art of using restraint and precision to stir up big emotions, and to whip and whisk them around so that they're inescapable, is also on display here — and it's one that this exquisite picture's driving force dispenses with as much talent as his subject did with his poetry.
It's been less than three years since Toombul Shopping Centre underwent a huge change, opening a new upstairs dining and entertainment precinct filled with neon and fountains, as well as circus-themed arcade bar Archie Bros Cirque Electriq. But the northside spot's revamp has proven short-lived, after the complex was inundated with water during Brisbane's late-February/early-March floods — with developer Mirvac announcing that, in the aftermath, it won't be reopening the centre as it previously stood. Unsurprisingly, Toombul has been closed ever since that catastrophic bout of wet weather, with its future up in the air over the past few months. Now, in a statement posted on Facebook on Wednesday, May 18 — and also reportedly via letters to tenants — Mirvac has advised that the centre's won't be returning to its former business as usual. "Following careful consideration of a number of factors including the extent of damage, the risk of future flooding and the importance of certainty for our partners, we have made the difficult decision not to reinstate the centre to how it was prior to the flooding damage," said the company. "We are now assessing the future of the site recognising the importance of continued provision of retail services for this local community," the statement continues. "No decision has been made on the future plan for the site, and at this time we do not have a timeline to resolve this; however, we will keep our partners and community informed." View this post on Instagram A post shared by Toombul (@toombulshoppingcentre) Perched between DFO at the airport and Chermside, Toombul gave northsiders a shopping option that wasn't as huge and sprawling as the former, or as focused on discount and outlet wares as the later. And, it boasted its own cinema, too. The centre also attracted Brisbanites from all over town when it became the site of Brisbane's — and Australia's — first-ever Cinnabon back in 2019. Toombul's history dates back to 1967, and it was originally the largest shopping centre in the city's north before Chermside started its series of expansions over the past few decades. If you've driven past lately, the impact of this year's flooding is obvious from the outside. And if you haven't been in the vicinity lately, you likely saw the photographic evidence all over social media back when the wild weather was ravaging the city. Toombul Shopping Centre is located at 1015 Sandgate Road, Toombul. For further information about the site's future, head to Toombul's website and Facebook page.
There's nothing strange in Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire, even with the spirits of sewer dragons, Slimer and pre-Sumerian demons all lurking about. There's nothing unusual about the movie's neighbourhood, either, with the supernatural comedy franchise revisiting New York after Ghostbusters: Afterlife's detour to Oklahoma. No surprises are found among the characters, mixing OG faces from 1984's Ghostbusters and its 1989 sequel Ghostbusters II with cast members from the saga's last flick (and still sadly pretending that 2016's excellent female-led Ghostbusters didn't happen). But something unexpected does occur in this fifth film to ask "who ya gonna call?": its love of nostalgia is as strong as in Afterlife; however, Frozen Empire is welcomely absent its immediate predecessor's needy force. Afterlife didn't bode well for reviving a concept that initially sprang from Dan Aykroyd's (Zombie Town) fondness for the paranormal. Everywhere that it could blast in a wink, nudge and nod backwards, it did, with the subtlety of a proton-pack blast that's tearing up NYC, angering the mayor and sparking a campaign to stop the spectre-hunting gang. It also desperately wanted to be an 80s-era Steven Spielberg picture. Frozen Empire still brings back plenty that's familiar, including Aykroyd's Ray Stantz, Bill Murray's (Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania) Peter Venkman, Ernie Hudson's (Quantum Leap) Winston Zeddemore and Annie Potts' (Young Sheldon) Janine Melnitz, but with noticeably less "did you see that, did you, did you?!?" kid-trying-to-get-someone's-attention energy. The last flick sported exactly that vibe for a reason: director Jason Reitman (The Front Runner), the son of the first two films' Ivan Reitman (Draft Day), was both following in his dad's footsteps and reliving his childhood. Handing over the helming reins to Gil Kenan (A Boy Called Christmas), with the younger Reitman co-writing, makes a difference. That said, simply being better than Afterlife is a low hurdle to clear. It's also what Frozen Empire achieves and little more. With his and Jason Reitman's roles behind the camera now reversed since their debut Ghostbusters collaboration, which he co-penned, Kenan ain't afraid of a by-the-numbers script that stitches together references to the franchise's past and as many characters as can be jam-packed in. From Afterlife, Paul Rudd (Only Murders in the Building), Carrie Coon (The Gilded Age), Finn Wolfhard (Stranger Things) and McKenna Grace (Crater) all return as the Spengler-Grooberson crew. Celeste O'Connor (Madame Web) and Lucky Kim (The Walking Dead: Dead City) are back as well. New in Frozen Empire: Patton Oswalt (Manhunt), Kumail Nanjiani (Migration), James Acaster (Springleaf) and Emily Alyn Lind (Gossip Girl). Getting such a hefty list of players in the same flick isn't the same thing as giving them all something substantial to do. Frozen Empire begins with Callie (Coon), her teen kids Trevor (Wolfhard) and Phoebe (Grace), and their former science teacher Gary (Rudd) all in Ecto-1, in hot pursuit of an otherworldly wraith in Manhattan — and the fact that Callie parents, Gary yearns to be seen as a parent and Trevor reminds everyone that he's 18 now sets the scene for their parts moving forward. So does Phoebe taking charge, but Kenan and Reitman only make half an effort to push her to the fore. When Phoebe links up with Ray, who now runs a store that buys possessed possessions, the Ghostbusters saga gets its best path forward so far with this cast. And yet, possibly scared of the ridiculous backlash to Kate McKinnon (Barbie), Kristen Wiig (Palm Royale), Melissa McCarthy (The Little Mermaid) and Leslie Jones (Our Flag Means Death) in jumpsuits almost a decade back, Frozen Empire largely pads itself out with filler to stop Phoebe always being the main point of focus. The Phoebe-Ray dynamic was destined to shimmer. She's the new version of her grandfather Egon (Harold Ramis, who thankfully isn't resurrected with CGI as he ghoulishly was in Afterlife), while Ray remains as ever-passionate as ever. "This is how I want to spend my golden years. This is what I love," the latter notes partway in — and no one is as visibly pleased to be in Frozen Empire as Aykroyd. Ray and Phoebe are mostly stuck on side quests, though, after the aforementioned mayor (Bad Company's William Atherton, another returnee from 1984) gets the youngest Spengler taken off active bustin' duty due to child labour laws. Although the 15-year-old earns a romantic subplot, too, courtesy of a teen ghost named Melody (Lind) that she meets while alone and lonely when the rest of her family are chasing spirits, that thread also lacks wholehearted commitment by Frozen Empire's guiding powers. Name-wise, the film takes its cues from a being that can freeze people to death in NYC in summer, and has in the past. That's the big bad in need of vanquishing — a mission that brings in Nanjiani as a hawker peddling his recently deceased grandmother's relics, Oswalt as an expert in ancient languages (who conveniently works out of the New York Public Library) and Acaster as an engineer in Winston's new paranormal research lab. As it hits easily predictable beats, the overall plot jumps between routine and amiable; this is a movie of sporadic small pleasures rather than proving a big joy. Rudd uttering the Ghostbusters theme tune's lyrics as dialogue, a discman with a haunted Spin Doctors CD, a gramophone turned by a severed hand, a Mary Todd Lincoln gag, Nanjiani endeavouring to channel Rick Moranis (The Goldbergs): they're the feature's equivalents of mini marshmallow men, which also pop up again in an attempt to shoehorn in some cuteness. As Frozen Empire succeeds in topping Afterlife, and also in feeling far more like a Ghostbusters entry, there's an aptness about the picture becoming a case of taking the good with the average and worse. The messy editing, thin plot, unwillingness to enthusiastically champion Phoebe as the key protagonist, stretching its antics out to 115 minutes and bloated number of actors — if Aykroyd is the most excited of the bunch, Murray is the most weary — all get Frozen Empire mirroring one of the storyline's themes: that living, especially when surrounded by death, is about clinging onto what highlights you can. Perhaps that train of thought also explains splicing in clips from films gone by as well (not from 2016, of course), plus Ray Parker Jr's music video and even old ads for Ghostbusters merchandise. If the franchise gets another life from here, however, it's time to embrace being bold again, instead of comfortably doing just enough.
Nothing takes away those Monday blues like having an epic post-work activity planned. Make good on your 'I'm going to eat healthily this week' promise and grab yourself a feed from Suki in Bulimba. The fusion eatery has taken the best of Japanese, Mexican and Hawaiian food culture to offer up sushi burritos and poke bowls (Hawaiian salad bowls packed full of succulent veggies and raw fish). Once you've stocked up on dinner, jump on the City Cat and head over to New Farm Park for an evening picnic by the river. Spring is the season for jacarandas, so with any luck, you'll be able to enjoy your dinner on a glorious blanket of purple flowers.
If Vincent van Gogh can do it, and Claude Monet and his contemporaries like Renoir, Cézanne and Manet as well, then Frida Kahlo can also. We're talking about being the subject of huge, multi-sensory art exhibitions — the kind that takes an artist's work and projects it all around you so you feel like you're walking into their paintings. First came Van Gogh Alive, which has been touring the country for the last few years. On its way next is Monet & Friends Alive, launching at Melbourne's digital-only gallery The Lume at the end of October. And, after that, Frida Kahlo: Life of an Icon is heading to Sydney as part of the hefty Sydney Festival program for 2023. Frida Kahlo: Life of an Icon will make its Australian premiere in the Harbour City — and display only in the Harbour — from Wednesday, January 4, 2023. For two months, it will celebrate the Mexican painter's life and work, taking over the Cutaway at Barangaroo Reserve with holography and 360-degree projections. The aim: turning a biographical exhibition about Kahlo into an immersive showcase, and getting attendees to truly understand her art, persistence, rebellion and skills — and why she's an icon. Visitors will wander through seven spaces, and get transported into the artist's work — including via virtual reality. That VR setup will indeed let you step inside Kahlo's pieces as much as VR can, although the entire exhibition is designed to cultivate that sensation anyway, with digital versions of Kahlo's paintings expanding across every surface. The showcase hails from Spanish digital arts company Layers of Reality, alongside the Frida Kahlo Corporation, and will feature historical photographs and original films as well — and live performances of traditional Mexican music. As part of the interactive component, attendees will also be able to make their own flower crowns, and turn their own drawings into Kahlo-style artworks. And, you'll be able to immortalise the experience in souvenir photos, too.
Melancholy, cantankerousness, angst, hurt and snow: all five blanket Barton Academy in Alexander Payne's The Holdovers. It's Christmas in the New England-set latest film from the Election, About Schmidt and Nebraska director, but festive cheer is in short supply among the students and staff that give the movie its moniker. The five pupils all want to be anywhere but stuck at their exclusive boarding school over the yuletide break, with going home off the cards for an array of reasons. Then four get their wish, leaving just Angus Tully (debutant Dominic Sessa), who thought he'd be holidaying in Saint Kitts until his mother told him not to come so that she could have more time alone with his new stepdad. His sole company among the faculty: curmudgeonly classics professor Paul Hunham (Paul Giamatti, Billions), who's being punished for failing the son of a wealthy donor, but would be hanging around campus anyway; plus grieving head cook Mary Lamb (Da'Vine Joy Randolph, Only Murders in the Building), who is weathering her first Christmas after losing her son — a Barton alum — in the Vietnam War. The year is 1970 in Payne's long-awaited return behind the lens after 2017's Downsizing, as the film reinforces from its opening seconds with retro studio credits. The Holdovers continues that period-appropriate look in every frame afterwards — with kudos to cinematographer Eigil Bryld (No Hard Feelings), who perfects not only the hues and grain but the light and softness in his imagery — and matches it with the same mood and air, as if it's a lost feature unearthed from the era. Cat Stevens on the soundtrack, a focus on character and emotional truths, zero ties to franchises, a thoughtful story given room to breathe and build: that's this moving and funny dramedy. Christmas flicks regularly come trimmed with empty, easy nostalgia, but The Holdovers earns its wistfulness from a filmmaker who's no stranger to making movies that feel like throwbacks to the decade when he was a teen. In the first of his eight pictures actually set in the 70s, Payne tells a tale that audiences can plot out from the setup alone. The Holdovers also charts a story so on the director's wavelength that, even though it's only the second of his films that he didn't also script, it comes as no surprise that he specifically commissioned it from screenwriter David Hemingson (Whiskey Cavalier) after reading a pilot by him set in a boarding school, and also watching 1935 French effort Merlusse. But spying where this account of three lonely souls thrust together over the holidays is heading doesn't temper its delights and depths; the journeys that Paul, Angus and Mary take; or spending time in the trio's presence. While movie narratives are often predictable — that there's only so many basic plots is a common writing concept — the devils and joys are in the details, relationships and idiosyncrasies, as Payne unpacks with help from excellent performances. The Holdovers knows how to construct and flesh out characters; in Paul's gruff demeanour with his class, who he's happy to flunk — and particularly ferocious about putting the most privileged in their place — the film says plenty about the man and how everyone around him sees him. He's hardly thrilled with his chaperoning gig, taking to it like teaching. Angus, one of his outspoken but socially awkward pupils, is equally miserable. And Mary is just endeavouring to get through a tough time heightened by the supposedly merriest part of the year. That each will come to better understand the other, plus themselves, is exactly what's expected, and what Payne and Hemingson dive into. The layers unpeeled, however, are exquisite — not only showing what's led the three figures to this physical place in their lives, and to their current emotional and psychological juncture as well, but letting viewers see themselves in each and every one. Payne and Giamatti reteam following 2004's Sideways, which brought the former the first of his three directing Oscar nominations to-date, and also gave him a statuette for co-writing the adapted screenplay. The Holdovers is a welcome reunion, again casting Giamatti as a dispirited teacher, but his older years are felt. The corduroy-wearing, pipe-smoking Paul is a holdover in several manners, including as a former Barton student now working at the academy, someone whose dreams haven't come true and a man maintaining his frostiness after a lifetime of not fitting in. Every aspect is naturalistically grounded in Giamatti's acerbic Golden Globe-winning portrayal, as is the fact that choosing something different, breaking his routines and no longer holding himself over is a trickier prospect when you've spent more time set in your ways than you have left to change. This virtual three-hander pairs its biggest on-screen name with two just-as-exceptional performances by Randolph and newcomer Sessa. She's another 2024 Golden Globe-recipient and he, after being discovered as an elite Massachusetts boarding school perhaps not unlike Barton — it's one of five used as locations in the movie — kicks off what's certain to be a promising career. There's such soulfulness in the no-nonsense, just-getting-by Mary, who has no other option but to keep overseeing the academy's kitchen after the worst thing that can ever happen to a mother, and gives Rustin and The Idol's Randolph her best role since Dolemite Is My Name. And there's such spark mixed with pain in Sessa's young Dustin Hoffman-esque turn (a comparison reinforced when Paul and Angus hit the cinema to see western Little Big Man, which stars Hoffman, and by The Holdovers overall harking back to The Graduate times). Think: Dead Poets Society and With Honours, too. Think: The Shining as well, thanks to the snowy, sprawling and empty site where the characters and their thoughts are left to roam. But The Holdovers finds its own space as it ponders striving against remaining in a spot in your life that's anything but what you truly want, and also how one person's flaws and failings can be another's source of inspiration — packaging both with ample laughs. This is a witty and amusing film with dialogue that bounces and proves finely observed at the same time, as its characters and the entire movie also do. Down Under, The Holdovers' release has been held over until after Christmas, pitching its big-screen arrival as awards season heats up — Giamatti and Randolph are highly likely Academy Award-nominees — but it's also perfect bittersweet future festive viewing.
UPDATE April 28, 2023: Moonage Daydream is available to stream via Netflix, Google Play, YouTube Movies, iTunes and Prime Video Ground control to major masterpiece: Moonage Daydream, Brett Morgen's kaleidoscopic collage-style documentary about the one and only David Bowie, really makes the grade. Its protein pills? A dazzling dream of archival materials, each piece as essential and energising as the next, woven into an electrifying experience that eclipses the standard music doco format. Its helmet? The soothing-yet-mischievous tones of Ziggy Stardust/Aladdin Sane/The Thin White Duke/Jareth the Goblin King himself, the only protective presence a film about Bowie could and should ever need and want. The songs that bop through viewers heads? An immense playlist covering the obvious — early hit 'Space Oddity', the hooky glam-rock titular track, Berlin-penned anthem 'Heroes', the seductive 80s sounds of 'Let's Dance' and the Pet Shop Boys-remixed 90s industrial gem 'Hallo Spaceboy', to name a few — as well as deeper cuts. The end result? Floating through a cinematic reverie in a most spectacular way. When Bowie came to fame in the 60s, then kept reinventing himself from the 70s until his gone-too-soon death in 2016, the stars did look very different — he did, constantly. How do you capture that persistent shapeshifting, gender-bending, personal and creative experimentation, and all-round boundary-pushing in a single feature? How do you distill a chameleonic icon and musical pioneer into any one piece of art, even a movie that cherishes each of its 135 minutes? In the first film officially sanctioned by Bowie's family and estate, Morgen knows what everyone that's fallen under the legend's spell knows: that the man born David Jones, who'd be 75 as this doco hits screens if he was still alive, can, must and always has spoken for himself. The task, then, is the same as the director had with the also-excellent Cobain: Montage of Heck and Jane Goodall-focused Jane: getting to the essence of his subject and conveying what made him such a wonder by using the figure himself as a template. Nothing about Bowie earns an easy description. Nothing about Bowie, other than his stardom, brilliance and impact, sat or even stood still for too long. Driven by themes and moods rather than a linear birth-to-death chronology, Moonage Daydream leaps forward with that same drive to ch-ch-change, the same yearning to keep playing and unpacking, and the same quest for artistry as well. Taking its aesthetic approach from its centre of attention means peppering in psychedelic pops, bursts of colour, neon hues, and mirrored and tiled images — because it really means making a movie that washes over all who behold its dance, magic, dance. That's the reaction that Bowie always sparked, enchanting and entrancing for more than half a century. In successfully aping that feat, Morgen's film is as immersive as an art installation. Exhibition David Bowie Is has already toured the world, including a 2015 stint Down Under in Melbourne; Moonage Daydream sits partway between that and a Bowie concert. This gift of sound and vision is as glorious as that gig-meets-art concept sounds — and yes, live footage beams and gleams throughout the documentary. Among the snippets of interviews, smattering of music videos, melange of clips from cinema touchstones that reverberate on Bowie's wavelength in one way or another, and scenes from his own acting career on-screen and onstage, how could it not? During his five years, fittingly, spent making Moonage Daydream, Morgen had access to the original concert masters, from which he spliced together his own mixes using alternative angles. Zooming back to the androgynous space-alien Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars tour is exhilarating, including when the feature's eponymous song explodes. Jumps to the 90s, to the Outside and Earthling tours, resonate with awe of a more grounded but no less vibrant kind. The Serious Moonlight segments, hailing from the 80s and all about pale suits and glistening blonde hair, see Bowie relaxing into entertainer mode — and, amid discussions about his wariness about making upbeat tunes, mastering that like everything else. When Bowie takes to the stage in Moonage Daydream, it plays as a concert film, in fact, even if there's always a new vintage chat with the man himself, compilation of movie images or video from one of his singles to swiftly follow in this musical mashup. The entire viewing experience is designed to feel like an event and a show; seeing it on the biggest possible screen, and sitting close enough to it so that all that's in front of you is that Bowie-adorned screen, is heartily recommended. Enlisting Bowie's longtime producer Tony Visconti, Moonage Daydream has the sound, not just the soundtrack, to both match and evoke that like-you're-there sensation. (Or, to make its audience feel like Bowie's here in the cinema in front of you.) Those tunes have also been remastered, aided by audio engineer Paul Massey (an Oscar-winner for Bohemian Rhapsody), and they're given the thunderous volume they deserve. Mesmerising fans comes easily in this Bowie mosaic's frames and tunes, with the doco edited as well as written and directed by Morgen; freak out in a Moonage Daydream indeed. For the casually interested, the film uses its style as part of its substance, and as an immersion technique — a tactic that Baz Luhrmann's Elvis also used in a just-as-vivid and expressively stitched-together manner. Understanding by feeling: that's the 2022 wave of modern music icon love for viewers to fall for, although Moonage Daydream and Elvis are clearly different features. The pair's subjects can be heroes, and that's a fact, and their directors want viewers to absorb why beyond merely being told. Among the time-defying jumps backwards and forwards throughout his life — channelling his always-futuristic air — Bowie's narration isn't about singing his own praises, instead flowing with insights into his processes, loves and challenges, and why he kept seeking the new and the bold. Hearing it as the movie's music and visuals work their magic is as revelatory as it's meant to be. Get your 'lectric eye on this and you'll slide through a multi-sensory ode — a multimedia extravaganza — that also includes looks at the Starman's paintings, which he was cautious about unveiling to the world; hops from the Brixton of his birth to his Los Angeles stint, and to his Berlin period and his tours through Asia; and buzzes with delighted-to-the-point-of-anxiety 70s-era crowds. Naturally, a refusal to be easily pinned down, to stop pushing itself and stop transforming also echoes, again paralleling Bowie himself. Morgen teases one song then layers in another, or sets up a segue but veers elsewhere: he is the propulsive documentary's DJ and he loves being playful. Every choice and surprise chimes with the utter Bowieness of it all, and how indefinable Bowie was and still is. Moonage Daydream is noticeably light on his last few decades, and on the reasons he stopped unleashing his inimitable presence upon stages, but perhaps that's another movie's job; this one is wondrous and wonderful anyway.
