Camping on a tropical island might seem like it's reserved for films and fantasies. But, in Tropical North Queensland, you can make it your reality at Dunk Island in the Family Islands National Park. Drive two hours south of Cairns to the idyllic coastal town of Mission Beach. Then, take a ten-minute ride across the glittering Coral Sea in the Water Taxi to Dunk Island where you can pitch a tent at one of only eight sites on the island. The campground comes with all the essentials — picnic tables, barbecue facilities, hot showers, drinking water and a loo — but, you'll need to take everything else with you. Pack snorkelling gear to catch the marine life in action at Muggy Muggy Beach, a good pair of walking shoes to complete the 11-kilometre Island Circuit hike, and plenty of food to refuel and enjoy on the sands of this tropical paradise.
Ever wondered if it was safe to go back into the water? You have Jaws to thank. When the killer shark flick swam into cinemas in 1975, it didn't just become Hollywood's first blockbuster — it also sparked phobias that have lingered for generations. Almost everyone has seen the eerily effective creature feature. Too many movies since have wanted to be it, too. Even if you somehow haven't watched the famed horror film, you still know of it, and you likely get creeped out whenever you heard just a few notes from its oft-deployed score. But if it weren't for Australian spearfisher and diver-turned-oceanographer and filmmaker Valerie Taylor and her husband Ron, Jaws may not have become the popular culture behemoth it is. It mightn't have had beachgoers thinking twice about taking a dip in the sea for the past 46 years, either, or had the same bite — or success — overall. Steven Spielberg directed Jaws, but the Taylors shot its underwater shark sequences — off the coast of Port Lincoln in South Australia, in fact. And, when one of the animals they were filming lashed out at a metal cage that had held a stuntman mere moments before, the pair captured one of the picture's most nerve-rattling scenes by accident. As everyone who has seen the huge hit has witnessed, Jaws benefits significantly from the Taylors' efforts. Indeed, before Peter Benchley's novel of the same name was even published, the duo was sent a copy of the book and asked if it would make a good feature (the answer: yes). Helping to make Jaws the phenomenon it is ranks among Valerie's many achievements, alongside surviving polio as a child, her scuba and spearfishing prowess, breaking boundaries by excelling in male-dominated fields in 60s, and the conservation activism that has drawn much of her focus in her later years. Linked to the latter, and also a feat that many can't manage: her willingness to confront her missteps and then do better. The apprehension that many folks feel when they're about to splash in the ocean? The deep-seated fear and even hatred of sharks, too? That's what Valerie regrets. Thanks to Jaws, being afraid of sharks is as natural to most people as breathing, and Valerie has spent decades wishing otherwise. That's the tale that Valerie Taylor: Playing with Sharks tells as it steps through her life and career. Taking a standard birth-to-now approach, the documentary has ample time for many of the aforementioned highlights, with Valerie herself either offering her memories via narration or popping up to talk viewers through her exploits. But two things linger above all else in this entertaining, engaging and insightful doco: the stunning archival footage, with Ron Taylor credited first among the feature's five cinematographers; and the work that Valerie has spearheaded to try to redress the world's fright-driven perception of sharks. The remarkable remastered clips shot by Ron make for astonishing and affecting viewing. Seeing the Taylors switch from chasing sharks to playing with and saving them does as well. Filmmaker Sally Aitken understands this and, helming her second big-screen documentary about an Aussie icon in the past four years — following 2017's David Stratton: A Cinematic Life — builds the bulk of her film around these decades-old materials. That choice also helps underscore Valerie and Ron's change of heart. Both were successful spearfishers, but Valerie is candid about the impact that killing a nurse shark in her line of work had. Helping to make 1971 documentary Blue Water White Death and then Jaws, the pair became committed to shooting with cameras rather than spears. Watching their footage, it's easy to see why. Valerie was known for her fearlessness (Ron even nicknamed her "give-it-a-go Valerie"), and her willingness to get up close and personal with the types of underwater critters most of us have nightmares about results in breathtaking imagery. Jean-Michel Cousteau, son of Jacques, is one of Playing with Sharks' other talking heads — and his dad wasn't envious of the Taylors' work, he should've been. All that footage should turn David Attenborough green-eyed as well; it brings him to mind more than once, actually. Playing with Sharks keeps its focus on Valerie — she isn't presented as a supporting player to her late husband, or appreciated here solely because she was once one of the rare woman working in her chosen fields — but the film's archival visuals also spark the kind of wonder and awe that's synonymous with Attenborough's documentaries. Some of the coral reefs dived by the Taylors no longer exist, but audiences can see them here. As images of her underwater frolics with sharks and other marine life fill the screen, Valerie speaks of the sheer abundance of critters she waded among, and the misguided 60s-era perception that that'd never change. The footage shot by the Taylors acts as a time capsule, harking back to a very recent stage in the earth's history that'll likely never be repeated. Even if it wasn't combined with Valerie's life story and reflections, these clips would still prove inspiring, especially when it comes to rethinking prevailing opinions about sharks — including great whites — and fighting for their conservation. Shark haters, consider this a warning: Playing with Sharks will have you reassessing your opinion. Any movie could've laid out the facts regarding shark behaviour, unpacked the hysteria or chronicled Valerie's impact, but her enthusiasm and passion are infectious here — including when the now 85-year-old pops a red ribbon in her hair again, slips her aching shoulder into her pink wetsuit, goes for a dive in Fiji and beams about how a shark just hit her. This isn't just a biographical doco about someone known for working with sharks; like last year's David Attenborough: A Life on Our Planet, 2017's Jane Goodall documentary Jane and underwhelming 2021 Oscar-winner My Octopus Teacher, it's a movie about being profoundly changed by the natural world and all of its splendour. Aitken doesn't take any risks with her format, and noticeably so — but given Valerie's powerful story, she doesn't need to.
We've all wondered what goes on behind closed doors. It's the whole reason that gossip magazines and reality TV exist, after all. But, there's a difference between reading about it or watching it on television, and actually walking into someone's hotel room and seeing it with your own eyes — and QT Gold Coast is currently letting people do the latter. At the first Hotelling program in what is hoped will become a regular event, audiences explore the building from the penthouse down to the tennis court; however they're privy to more than fancy '80s-style baths in the former and somewhere to play sports at the latter. They also meet the inhabitants, from a hostess living right at the top, to a visiting IT exec fighting with his wife, to an otherworldly presence channelling a rock star. Okay, okay, so they're actually actors that are playing a part in a site-specific performance piece put together by Bleached Arts, QT Gold Coast and City of Gold Coast, but they're replicating the weird, wonderful, over-the-top and ordinary things that go on the mini society that is a hotel (and a hotel on the Gold Coast in particular). First cab off the rank is Slavka, partying on the highest level of the place that just last week hosted the Thor: Ragnarok wrap party. She greets attendees warmly, gets them dancing, and then sends them on their merry way. With the event called Down The Rabbit Hole, that's mostly the direction everyone is then headed, with multiple stops. At one of them, the aforementioned Larry from Perth lets you into his room, where you'll overhear his phone conversation, help sing happy birthday to his son Morgan, and watch his reaction as his marriage almost falls apart. Also on the itinerary: a homage to rock-gods like Mick Jagger, Iggy Pop and Patti Smith, which will make you feel like you're in their rooms. Plus, there's some more adventurous fun on the agenda when you enter the domain of a Gold Coast-based sex counselling service, Rhythm Stick, that has chosen QT Gold Coast as a venue to solicit new clients. Or, do what absolutely everyone does when they're somewhere with plenty of high-rises: try to look into a neighbouring tower. Here, international surveillance artist Joao Montessori customises his signature artwork, In-Focus, to Gold Coast's hotel landscape, inviting you to stare in at a neighbouring block. Yep, it's a little bit like Rear Window. Over the course of the three-hour event, attendees go up and down between different rooms and peering into different lives in four groups — and no group has the same experience, or sees the exact same performances. Don't think the hallways are safe, though. There, you just might spy a Russian wrestling his bear-hat; a tall, twitchy and somewhat creepy Donnie Darko-esque rabbit, a pyjama-clad woman looking for her best bunny buddy (yep, rabbits are a thing), a go-go dancer who doesn't dance and a lost Kiwi. There's more, including several interactive components — but, at something like Hotelling, much of the fun is about experiencing it for yourself. And, about getting into the swing of things; everyone's a voyeur and a performer down deep, after all. Just a word of warning, though: you'll be in close quarters with many, many people in a whole lot of elevators. And, even if you've never had vertigo before, the experience of continually getting into a lift just might cause your first bout (we're speaking from experience). Hotelling takes place at QT Gold Coast from November 4 to 5. For more information, visit the event website and Facebook page. Images: Matt Marny. Slavka, Penthouse, performed by Nadia Sunde; Like A Rolling Stone, Room 706, performed by Kate Harman; The Crying Man, Room 306 performed by Todd MacDonald; In-Focus, Room 1915 performed by Hayden Jones with Steph Pokoj, Reuben Witsenhuysen, Marco Sinigaglia and Tammy Zarb; The Otherworld, Hallways.
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.
The Melbourne International Film Festival is back for 2022, and has been screening flicks across the Victorian capital's cinemas since Thursday, August 4 — but that's not the only way to get your MIFF fix this year. Here's another: MIFF Play, the festival's digital offshoot, which is also returning for another spin. That's fabulous news both for Melburnians and for movie buffs interstate — and an unsurprising move given that in 2020, when it first made the leap to streaming the fest in a big way, it enjoyed its biggest audience ever. In 2022, MIFF Play will be available from Thursday, August 11–Sunday, August 28, and will show 105 features and shorts. Among the 77 features, there's plenty of highlights — and, like at all good film fests, something for all tastes. Starting with the local picks, you can explore the history of Melbourne on film thanks to classics Noise and Love and Other Catastrophes, or check out new Aussie gems including First Nations anthology We Are Still Here, Back to Back Theatre's Shadow and Petrol from Strange Colours filmmaker Alena Lodkina. Or, Spanish horror-thriller Piggy spins a savage coming-of-age tale, Neptune Frost serves up an Afrofuturist musical and Give Me Pity! parodies 70s and 80s musical variety television. Hit the Road marks debut feature from Jafar Panahi's (x) son Panah Panahi, while meta Filipino action film tribute Leonor Will Never Die won Sundance's Special Jury Award for Innovative Spirit, and Indonesia's Yuni picked up the Platform Prize at the Toronto International Film Festival There's also Mass, starring Jason Isaacs (Streamline) and Ann Dowd (The Handmaid's Tale) and set in the aftermath of a school shooting; New Zealand gem Millie Lies Low, about a uni student who fakes going to New York for a big internship; and existential drama The Humans with Beanie Feldstein (Booksmart), Steven Yeun (Nope) and Amy Schumer (Only Murders in the Building). The list obviously goes on — kicking off with a one-night-only session of Funny Pages, as produced by Uncut Gems and Good Time's Benny and Josh Safdie. And, on the doco lineup, Citizen Ashe steps into tennis great Arthur Ashe's life, Jane by Charlotte sees Charlotte Gainsbourg focus on her mother Jane Birkin, Navalny follows Vladimir Putin's political rival as he investigates his own state-sponsored poisoning, and We Were Once Kids looks back at 1995 indie hit Kids. Price-wise, you'll pay as you watch — all from your couch.
At this point, Maybe Sammy not appearing on The World's 50 Best Bars' prestigious annual rankings would be a shock. The personality-packed retro cocktail lounge in Sydney's CBD has earned a spot on the coveted list six years in a row. However, while its previous rankings have earned it the laurel of the nation's best bar, that honour has this year been given to a different watering hole — Caretaker's Cottage in Melbourne. The Little Lonsdale Street bar ranked 21st on this year's list, moving up two spots from its 2023 position of 23rd place. It was also awarded the Michter's Art of Hospitality Award — a gong also previously won by Maybe Sammy — which recognises the bar with the most outstanding service in the world. [caption id="attachment_922565" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Caretaker's Cottage[/caption] Maybe Sammy dropped in the rankings this year from 15th to 26th position, breaking its five-year streak as not only Australia's best bar but also Australasia's. One other Australian bar, Byrdi, also earned a spot on the list, in 35th position, breaking into the top 50 for the first time after only making the 100-strong longlist last year, ranking 61st. The judging panel praised Caretaker's Cottage's owners, veteran bartenders Rob Libecans, Ryan Noreiks and Matt Stirling, for not only opening the bar but also working there too. "They don't shout the pedigree of Caretaker's Cottage to the world, preferring to call it a simple, local pub, and in vibe and design it's very much a neighbourhood joint," the judging notes said. [caption id="attachment_743915" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Maybe Sammy, Trent van der Jagt[/caption] The judging panel said Maybe Sammy "has remained [Sydney's] most talked-about bar since it opened in early 2019, lighting up a dreary stretch of street in Sydney's sandstone district, The Rocks," also spotlighting the bar's signature combination of "theatrics and attentive, fun service". Byrdi was praised for its hyper-local focus, with the judging panel noting that the La Trobe Street venue "might very well be the most Australian bar in existence". The judges also highlighted the bar's technical prowess: "There is foraging and fermenting and vacuum distilling – and the drinks are high-concept creations. As for the service, there is a loquaciousness here, a laid back, casual sensibility that, despite all the hard work, experience and knowledge, is determined to show their guests a good time." [caption id="attachment_921792" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Byrdi, Haydn Cattach[/caption] The bar crowned the world's best, announced at a ceremony in Madrid on Tuesday, October 22, was Mexico City's Handshake Speakeasy, with the judges hailing the subtle complexity of the menu: "At first glance, the drinks list is minimalist, but given that head bartender Eric Van Beek uses advanced culinary techniques in prep, each drink is more complex than meets the eye." To see the full list of this year's rankings, head to The World's 50 Best Bars website.
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.
Whatever Pedro Almodóvar and Penélope Cruz happen to be selling — and whenever, and in whichever films — audiences should always be buying. It isn't quite right to liken the acclaimed filmmaker's long-running collaboration with one of his favourite leading ladies to commerce, though, so another comparison fits better: whatever this duo birth into the world, viewers should embrace as a parent does a child. Across four decades now, the Spanish pair has gorgeously and soul-stirringly made cinematic art with the utmost understanding of how to make people feel. They know how people feel, too, and have the combined resumes best exemplified by Live Flesh, All About My Mother, Volver, Broken Embraces, Pain and Glory and now Parallel Mothers to prove it. Their shared filmography also constantly demonstrates another essential insight into human existence: that life is emotion, whether facing its beginning, end or both. Now helming his 22nd feature, Almodóvar has long filled his works with other recurrent inclusions and fascinations, many of which also burst onto the screen again here. When he initially united with Cruz on 1997's Live Flesh, she gave birth on a bus; in their second pairing, the Oscar-winning All About My Mother, she played a pregnant nun; with their most recent collaboration before this, Pain and Glory, she was mum to the writer/director's fictionalised surrogate — so that she's one of his titular matriarchs now is vintage Almodóvar. He brings back another of his veteran stars in Rossy de Palma (Julieta), paints with the vibrant-toned costume and set design that make his movies such a blissful sight for colour-seeking eyes, and focuses on mothers of all shades navigating life's many difficulties as well. Yes, Parallel Mothers is classic Almodóvar, but nothing about that description ever simply unfurls as expected. As the movie's moniker indicates, Janis, the almost-40 photographer that Cruz (The 355) inhabits with the quiet force and fragility that's second nature whenever she's directed by Almodóvar, is just one of Parallel Mothers' mums. Teenager Ana (Milena Smit, Cross the Line) is the other and, despite the feature's title, their stories keep converging. The two first meet in a Madrid hospital, where they share a room, give birth simultaneously, chat about how they're each going it alone with no father in the picture and quickly form a bond — as different as they otherwise appear, down to contrasting sources of support (Janis' brightly attired magazine-editor best friend Elena, which is where de Palma pops up, versus Ana's self-obsessed and distant actress mother Teresa, played by Estoy vivo's Aitana Sánchez-Gijón). Janis and Ana descend separately into motherhood afterwards, but twists of fate keep bringing them back together. Soapiness, aka the kinds of narrative developments characteristic of daytime TV, is another of Almodóvar's touches. But while his career has spanned films light and camp, dark and serious, and almost everything in-between, he inherently recognises that the line between what's dismissed as melodramatic contrivance and what people do truly experience is thinner than a blue slash on a positive pregnancy test. He unravels Parallel Mothers' story with that notion beaming underneath, and while also tackling a real and grim chapter of his country's history that he's never overtly confronted in his work. Before Janis and Ana can meet again and again, their lives and those of their infant daughters' forever intertwined, Janis gets in the family way to anthropologist Arturo (Israel Elejalde, 45 rpm) — who she snaps at a job, then asks to unearth the mass grave in her village that she suspects has housed her great-grandfather's body since he went missing in the Spanish Civil War. A lesser filmmaker would fail to convincingly stitch together Parallel Mothers' past and present, and wouldn't turn the picture into a missive of hope for the future as well — an ode to the ways in which women have weathered the ills, woes, wars and heartbreaks of oft-absent men, and a musing on how acknowledging that reality is a key step to reshaping it. Almodóvar is an exceptional filmmaker, of course, and so every bold move he makes here excavates multi-layered complexity, emotion and, to borrow his last release's name, pain and glory. His embrace of soap opera-style twists and the lingering shadows of Spain's recent history in tandem is chaotic, but his film never sports that air because it accepts it all as truth. There's no heightened histrionics — just the awareness that life is emotion because it's a state of ongoing trauma, as peppered with snatched moments of happiness and learning to appreciate what you can so that you can keep going on. Warm and radiant, and as great as she's ever been for Almodóvar or in any feature, the magnificent Cruz internalises this concept — of enduring and persevering, whether in tirelessly striving to finally exhume her family's past, in lucking into becoming a mother, or when faced with a certainty that's the stuff of maternal nightmares — so completely and sensitively that she's sheer on-screen perfection. There's nothing thin about her performance, but you can see right into it, gleaning the whirlwind of complicated factors that push, pull, swirl, sway and motivate Janis' every choice. She's amply matched by Smit, who turns in a far more internalised portrayal, but one that's still a revelatory portrait of resilience and resolve in its own way. That said, Almodóvar may love his strong female leads, but he also adores flaws; in his movies, no one is faultless, and his characters and the performances behind them are all the more powerful for it. Also potent: Almodóvar's style, rampant as it is, and what it conveys about the tale he's telling. His work is never just about what happens, but how — and with his players, the same rings true in their actions — so all of the colours, deep-focus shots, close-ups of Cruz and Smit's faces, mirrored images featuring the pair and sometimes-sudden edits that bring this picture to fruition are pivotal pieces in Parallel Mothers' puzzle. The mastery of the director's returning technical talents (cinematographer José Luis Alcaine, composer Alberto Iglesias, editor Teresa Font, costumer Paola Torres and production designer Antxón Gómez, all back from Pain and Glory) helps shape the film into a haunted Hitchcockian thriller at times, for example, as well as a clear-eyed look at Spanish history. It's as visually arresting as an Almodóvar movie can be, too, and interweaves its seemingly disparate approaches as commandingly as it does its chalk-and-cheese narrative threads. Sensual and savvy and always sublime, Parallel Mothers sells everything within its immaculate frames — and surrendering to its emotional, visual and thematic pull is as natural as life and death.
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
UPDATE, September 14, 2020: Custody is available to stream via SBS On Demand, Google Play, YouTube Movies and iTunes. If Kramer vs. Kramer met The Shining, it would look like Custody. That's filmmaker Xavier Legrand's own description of his bleak and tough domestic thriller, and it's one that firmly fits. The French writer-director initially styles his debut movie as a social realist drama, following a divorcing couple fighting over their 11-year-old son. But as courtroom arguments give way to the family's daily reality, Custody understands the devastating terror that comes from living in fear. As strained civility is replaced by deep-seeded turmoil, the film turns the trauma of a dissolving marriage and the accompanying fallout into an unwavering portrait of horror. Everyone in Custody is afraid of something and, crucially, they know it. Anxiety overwhelms the movie, with Legrand mirroring the Besson family's shattered nerves in the film's relentless mood. Miriam (Léa Drucker) is clearly frightened of her husband Antoine (Denis Ménochet), who she has left suddenly with their two children in tow. The duo's pre-teen son Julien (Thomas Gioria) and nearly 18-year-old daughter Joséphine (Mathilde Auneveux) share her concern, although Julien is also worried that he can't protect his mother from his father. An imposing figure even when he's attempting to be calm, Antoine can't face the lack of control and power that comes with his new situation. Panicked anguish and agitation radiates from his pores, gaze and stance, turning every gesture into an act of hostility. After spending its first 15 minutes scrutinising Miriam and Antoine's court battle — she claims that he's violent, he says that she has turned their kids against him — Custody charts the aftermath of the judge's decision. Julien must stay with Antoine on alternating weekends, but the boy visibly doesn't want to go. Dread and distress build with each scene, as Julien tries to stay composed while Antoine's thin facade of restraint just keeps cracking. Every moment is weaponised, be it a hug where Julien remains blank-faced and limp, a tussle over the kid's mobile phone, Antoine's bullying determination to find out where Miriam and the children are living, or the man's overbearing behaviour when he arrives unannounced on more than one occasion. Following the same characters first seen in his Oscar-nominated short Just Before Losing Everything, Legrand canvasses the whole family's reactions and perspectives — but Julien remains the film's quivering heart. In a masterstroke of casting, first-time actor Gioria conveys the internalised pain and stress of being literally caught in the middle of a parental tug-of-war. More than that, even when he's keeping silent, he shows how terror shapes Julien's entire existence. As a result, the boy's time with Ménochet is impossible to look away from, even though it's crafted to evoke maximum discomfort. Meanwhile, the disarmingly naturalistic Ménochet never plays Antoine as a simplistic villain, although he's always a threat. Legrand purposefully cast someone who physically fills the frame, and constantly uses the hulking talent to push his other stars to the edge of the image. Indeed, it's Legrand's visual approach — particularly in his depiction of his menacing antagonist — that speaks to his film's true brilliance. The director doesn't merely want to tell a brutal tale about divorce, fear and violence. He doesn't just want his actors to express their characters' complex emotions with each breath and blink, either. And he doesn't simply want to chronicle the destruction that springs from domestic abuse, although that's one of his aims. Rather, the filmmaker is intent on trapping viewers in this incredibly fraught scenario with his protagonists, and using every means at his disposal to make the audience feel that same all-encompassing horror. Sometimes, that means shooting a scene from ground level, solely focusing on feet beneath a toilet stall. At one point, Legrand lets a rare musical moment — one that should be a celebration — swell with almost-unbearable tension. Over and over again, in his placement of the camera, he makes every composition bristle with claustrophobia. Rhythmically, as things in the narrative get increasingly out of hand, his fast and abrupt takes grow looser and longer, but no less urgent. Legrand won the best director award at the 2017 Venice Film Festival for his efforts, and it's easy to see why. Every meticulous move he makes in Custody is heartbreakingly effective, in a film that's already downright heartbreaking. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8mJT7wEtkA
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.
UPDATE, January 7, 2021: Pieces of a Woman screens in Brisbane cinemas from Wednesday, December 30, and will be available to stream via Netflix from Thursday, January 7. Everyone has heard the claim that women forget the pain of childbirth, with hormones and maternal stirrings washing away the agony of labour once a mother meets their bundle of joy. How true that proves is the subject of debate, but if you've only seen life brought into the world via on-screen depictions, you can be forgiven for subscribing to such a school of thought. Childbirth, like sex, is usually sanitised for cinema. Courtesy of thrusts, groans, screams and part-exhilarated, part-exhausted smiles, films typically convey the gist, rather than the nitty gritty. The visceral reality rarely exists in a fictionalised world of convenient meet-cutes, perfect make-up adorned faces and zero signs of sweat; however, thanks to a tense and harrowing 23-minute delivery scene that plays out in one continuous take, Pieces of a Woman doesn't shy away from the mess and chaos. It doesn't evade the devastation when a planned home birth not only experiences hiccups, but leaves Boston-based expectant mother Martha (Vanessa Kirby, Fast & Furious: Hobbs and Shaw) struggling to cope, either. Martha won't forget what occurred when her water broke, her husband Sean (Shia LaBeouf, Honey Boy) remained by her side and midwife Eva (Molly Parker, Words on Bathroom Walls), a fill-in rather than the couple's first choice, delivered her baby. Neither will viewers of this daringly intimate drama from White God and Jupiter's Moon director-writer duo Kornél Mundruczó and Kata Wéber. The unbroken birthing scene isn't the movie's first, but it does precede its title card — with the filmmakers making it plain that, after getting a front-row seat to Martha's trauma, the audience will now witness her attempts to stitch herself back together. That's Pieces of a Woman's storyline. Shattered instead of feeling ecstatic and complete, as she had anticipated, the feature's protagonist tries to work out how to go on. But her marriage has lost its lustre, her overbearing mother Elizabeth (Ellen Burstyn, House of Cards) won't stop giving her two cents — and trying to throw around piles of money to help a problem that can't be fixed by cash — and, at Sean and Elizabeth's urging, there's also a court case to deal with. Pieces of a Woman doesn't lack narrative developments, involving both Martha and those in her bereaved orbit. Ex-alcoholic Sean also endeavours to process the situation, including falling back on old habits. His relationship with Elizabeth flips from bickering to conspiratorial, too; he's a construction worker, and his mother-in-law has always disapproved of his and Martha's class differences, but now they agree on what's best moving forward. Also having an impact: the involvement of Martha's lawyer cousin Suzanne (Sarah Snook, Succession), and the attention that comes from pursuing legal proceedings. Martha can't escape any of the above, but they're the film's scaffolding, rather than the main attraction. These external ups and downs will all pass, while Martha's maelstrom of despair and anger will remain. Accordingly, after stepping through her life-changing moment in realistic detail, the movie makes the bold choice to explore its protagonist's emotional and mental state. The Crown brought Kirby to broader fame and acclaim, earning her awards for her on-screen work after years of receiving them for her stage career — but, as stellar as she is in the regal drama, Pieces of a Woman is a career-best performance. She's tasked with weathering an ordeal rarely laid bare with such candour, and doing so via a dynamic and lived-in portrayal. She's asked to convey the torrential torment that Martha endures in every second after pushing through the contractions in Sean's embrace, holding their child in hers, and then suffering the worst type of absence. In the birth scene, she's primal and unfiltered in a way that's never seen on film. Afterwards, Kirby is glassy with and distant from those around Martha in a manner that rarely resonates as authentically as it does here. Pieces of a Woman is well-cast, and its star is ably matched — by Burstyn especially, particularly in one big monologue that rides a remarkable rollercoaster — but the intensity in Kirby as Martha crumples, yet remains resolute about her right to fracture and fray however she needs to, is near-overwhelming. Mundruczó and Wéber tackle an array of weighty notions through Martha, and through Kirby's performance, the ravenous monster that is grief being one. Pieces of a Woman is heartbreakingly unrestrained in showing how it feels to navigate loss, specifically the kind that isn't often addressed in society let alone in cinema. It does so with disarming potency, as if everything within its frames has been ripped from truth by the filmmakers. Just as effectively, the movie also unpacks how women are constantly expected to stick to set roles, even when tackling what might be the most distressing thing that'll ever happen to a mother. That's where all the struggles with Sean, Elizabeth and the court case really strike a chord — because, no matter what's going on, Martha is always supposed to fit a type dictated by long-held ideas about being a woman, and her husband, mum and anyone else with an opinion can't quite accept her refusal to adhere to convention. If Pieces of a Woman wasn't so deeply moving, some of its overt symbolism might've fallen flat, including repeated shots of a bridge being built by Sean, plus Martha's obsession with apples. And yet honesty reverberates from both, reflecting how easy it is to cling to anything and everything when life isn't progressing as planned. This excellent movie does spend its 126 minutes as intended, of course. From its attention-grabbing early sequence and intricate emotional landscape to its astonishing lead performance and its masterful direction — and its fittingly solemn score by Howard Shore (a two-time Oscar-winner for The Lord of the Rings) and roaming yet lingering visuals lensed by Benjamin Loeb (Mandy), too — it plunges viewers headfirst into Martha's experience. Nothing has been sanitised for anyone's comfort or protection here, either by the filmmakers or by their unforgettably real and raw central character. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1zLKbMAZNGI Top image: Benjamin Loeb / Netflix.
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.
Cunnamulla might be 850 kilometres from the nearest beach, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy some of the country's best sandboarding adventures in the heart of the outback. While the climb to the top of these natural lofty dunes is a little tough, your efforts will be well rewarded with a thrilling ride down the slopes. A selection of local tour companies transport travellers to and from the nearby sand dunes, and also provide all the gear you need to surf these granular waves. Plus, the dunes offer awesome views of the surrounding landscape, ensuring you can fully appreciate the scale of the outback. Looking for a tour company? Start your search at the Cunnamulla Fella Visitor Centre. Image: Bernard Spragg, Flickr
Prepare for some news that might make you feel old: the Veronicas' first album, The Secret Life of..., was released a decade ago. Circa 2005, Brisbane's singing twins scaled the pop world and made the city's music scene shine a little brighter in the process. It's fitting, then, that the Brightside has chosen to commemorate their debut the only way they know how — by throwing a massive party, of course. Pop culture nostalgia and Brisbane pride promise to combine in an evening of memories, catchy tunes and embracing your love of homegrown music. It won't come as a surprise that the full release will get a spin, as belted out by Beth Lucas with a full band. Nor will the upbeat atmosphere, taking the ladies lyrics to heart with a live forever vibe. The rest of the Veronicas' output will get a blast between sets, for fans of their later stuff. And as always, wearing your affection on your sleeve — literally, in the form of the group's merchandise — is heartily encouraged.
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.
So you might remember that the Keystone Group — the sprawling empire behind Australia's Jamie's Italian restaurants, Sydney's The Winery, Gazebo, Manly Wine, Cargo Bar, Bungalow 8, alongside multi-city venues Kingsley's and Chophouse — got into a real jam recently after being unable to settle on their financial structure with lenders of their multi (multiiii) million dollar hospitality empire and went into receivership. Then, earlier this week, Melbourne-based Dixon Hospitality swooped in and bought up a bunch of their properties. Well, even if you don't (it can be hard to keep up with the wheelings and dealings of hospo hotshots), that's about where we were all up to. But in the latest twist in the story, Jamie's Italian (which was one of the venues not saved by Dixon), has been bought by the man himself: Jamie Oliver. Yep, he has bought back his own restaurant chain, which includes six restaurants across Australia, including Sydney, Perth, Canberra, Brisbane, Adelaide and Parramatta. He'll manage the Australian venues under his Jamie Oliver Group, which are, despite the receivership, reportedly going quite well. So, it's okay everyone: Jamie's back to set it all right and cook us a nice, creamy pasta. Via The Sydney Morning Herald.
The Terrace at Emporium is an impressive spot for a drink every day of the year. Being perched 21 storeys above South Bank will do that. Come Easter, it doesn't need to do much to get its patrons in a sweet mood, then — but the sky-high venue is pouring themed cocktails anyway through until Wednesday, April 30, 2025. Two seasonal tipples are on offer for those who like their Easter spirit with some actual spirits. The first is a banoffee cocktail made with spiced rum, caramelised banana, coffee caramel, chocolate and meringue, and will set you back $24. Also available: a $26 drink called the Sunny Side that's made with vanilla vodka and lime zest oleo, and features a mango yolk that looks incredibly realistic. Whether you're doing your Easter celebrating over lunch or after work — or before, during or shortly after the occasion itself — the cocktails are available every day of the week.
A shadowy old house. A strange little boy. An unexplained object that won't go away. There's nothing particularly revolutionary about The Babadook; it's simply a matter of execution. Taking time-honoured plot points that in lesser hands would seem cliched, Queensland director Jennifer Kent has managed to craft a film that feels both entirely original and utterly terrifying. Featuring both a gripping lead performance by Essie Davis and one of the most creepifying monsters to ever stalk your dreams, The Babadook sets a bar by which future local horror films will be measured. Davis plays Amelia, the overwhelmed, widowed mother of a seven-year-old problem child named Samuel (newcomer Noah Wiseman). A maladjusted and volatile lad with a penchant for producing homemade weapons, Sammy is quite the handful for his mum, who's still haunted by the trauma of losing her husband in a car-wreck while driving to the hospital on the night of her Samuel's birth. One evening, while putting Samuel to bed, Amelia finds a mysterious new book on the boy's bookshelf. Written in Dr Seuss-style rhymes, the story it tells is of a strange, spindly-fingered creature named Mr Babadook. Although innocent at first, the stanzas grow steadily more menacing. Of course, by the time Amelia clues on to the fact that this might not be suitable bedtime reading, the damage has already been done. In an age when 'scary' is so often mistaken for 'bloody', Kent gives us a reminder of the power of anticipation. With next to zero onscreen violence, The Babadook is the kind of slow-burn horror movie that gets under your skin and raises the hairs on your neck; the kind of horror movie that has you bracing yourself for the next scare yet still catches you off guard when the monster finally rears its ugly head. A stop-frame creation that lurks in the shadows, the eponymous Babadook moves with a slithering unreality that seems to freeze the blood vessels in your brain. You know he can't exist. And yet he does. The terror comes also from our empathy with Amelia and Sam. Present in just about every scene, Davis is phenomenally good as Amelia, a worn-down figure who becomes increasingly erratic, and then monstrous herself, as the Babadook's presence grows stronger. More than once, the film implies that the creature may just be a product of Amelia's frazzled mind, pushed to the brink by the death of her husband and the constant demands of her son. In truth, that might be the most frightening suggestion of all. Kent doesn't quite stick the landing, unfortunately. Ambiguity is one thing, but the ending here is just plain unclear. Even so, an unsatisfying coda doesn't undo what came before. To anyone who can handle their heart in their throat, consider The Babadook highly recommended. To anyone who can handle their heart in their throat, consider The Babadook highly recommended. https://youtube.com/watch?v=IuQELNFtr-g
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.
With a title that speaks of next generations, The Son is a film about second efforts, including off-screen. For writer/director Florian Zeller, it marks the French novelist and playwright's sophomore stint behind the camera, and notches the list of movies he's helmed based on his own stage works up to two as well. After dual Oscar-winner The Father, which earned Zeller and co-scribe Christopher Hampton the Best Adapted Screenplay award and Anthony Hopkins the much-deserved Best Actor prize, it's also his second feature with a family member in its title. And, it's his second largely confined to interior settings, focusing on mental illness, exploring complicated father-child relationships within that intimate domestic space and driven by intense dialogue spouted by a committed cast. Hopkins pops up once more in another psychodrama, too, as a dad again. Within its frames, The Son follows New York lawyer Peter Miller (Hugh Jackman, Reminiscence) as he's happily starting over with his second wife Beth (Vanessa Kirby, Pieces of a Woman) and their newborn Theo, his second son. Here's the thing about second chances, though: sometimes your first shots can't simply be forgotten, no matter how eager you are to move on. Peter confronts this truth when his ex-spouse Kate (Laura Dern, Jurassic World Dominion) unexpectedly knocks at his door one day, distraught about learning that their 17-year-old Nicholas (Zen McGrath, Red Dog: True Blue) has been ditching school long-term. The teen hasn't been a contented presence around her home since his dad left, either, with depression setting in after such a big upheaval to his status quo. So, Peter and Kate agree to a parental rekindling, with Peter giving being an active dad to Nicholas — having him come to live with him, Beth and Theo, in fact — a second go. Can lightning strike twice, for Zeller and for Peter? Once again co-writing with Hampton (who nabbed his first Oscar for adapting 1988's Dangerous Liaisons, and another nomination for his work on Atonement), The Son's creative force wants that to be a complicated question — and it is. In his layered narrative, Zeller keeps playing up doubles and playing with duality, including the varying ways that Peter treats his two boys, the push and pull of work and home as a new career opportunity arises, Nicholas' mood and attitude with two differing maternal figures, and the impact of Peter's own fraught relationship with his hard-nosed father (Hopkins, Armageddon Time). The latter is a dynamic that Peter doesn't have fond feelings about and is desperate not to reprise, but we all know what they say about history repeating. Accordingly, for The Son's increasingly exasperated patriarch, lightning striking twice is a double-edged sword. In all of the above, from the moment that it begins with Peter, Beth and Theo at home, then talks about Nicholas, his troubles and mental state before introducing him, The Son is firmly aligned with Peter. Consequently, it's also stressed by a big struggle: truly comprehending Nicholas. The Father, whose shadow the often-clinical The Son will always be under — yes, the connection between Zeller's first two movies mimics the connection between the characters in his second flick — was the masterpiece it was by bringing its namesake's mindset to the screen. Zeller surrounded Hopkins' brilliant performance with immersive cinematography that plunged his audience into the confusion, disruption and distress of experiencing dementia. With The Son, teen anxiety, truancy and the scarred arms that indicate suicidal ideation are things to talk about, brood over and saddle with Chekhovian logic rather than attempt to deeply understand. Set to a solemn score by Hans Zimmer (Prehistoric Planet), Zeller's latest film is filled with pain, hurt and devastation, clearly, but also distance from the person who's meant to be so pivotal that the picture is literally named after him. That said, the movie's moniker is revealing — because it's barely interested in fleshing out Nicholas as a person beyond being a son that Peter has to deal with due to the bonds of blood and the weight of regret. One of the feature's big emotional arcs charts Peter's growing realisation that being a parent is about genuinely seeing and accepting your child for who they are, and working to help them be the best version of themselves that they want to be instead of who you envision. It culminates in a stunning payoff sequence, but if only The Son paid more attention more often to who Nicholas is beyond his cutting anger, physical cuts, and Peter, Beth and Kate's reactions to him. If only The Son also spent more time showing rather than telling — indeed, with its talk-heavy screenplay always betraying the story's stage origins, it devotes almost all of its efforts to telling. Again, even with cinematographer Ben Smithard lensing both here and for The Father, his current work for Zeller peers on rather than dives in. It's a testament to Jackman and McGrath's performances that The Son is as engaging as it is, however, and as dripping with raw emotion. Both Australian talents, one famous for decades at home and abroad, the other an impressive up-and-comer to watch, their duel of words, heartache, expectations and internalised dismay is finely tuned and gripping. Alongside Jackman's one-scene face-off with Hopkins, their still-stagey but compelling one-on-ones are the film's showpieces. On the stage, The Father and The Son are the two parts of a thematic trilogy, completed by Zeller's The Mother — which, in its off-Broadway run in 2019, starred incomparable French icon Isabelle Huppert (an Oscar-nominee herself for 2016's Elle). Whether it too will make it to the movies is yet to be seen, but the two mums of The Son are sadly pushed aside. The always-great Dern and Kirby make the most they can of thin parts, though always deserving better, the two actors conveying a mother's and a stepmother's fears, anguish and hopes, respectively. They also share one of the film's key tussles: appreciating and unpacking its characters, Peter, Beth and Kate alike, and Nicholas especially, as more than their familial labels.
UPDATE, July 16, 2021: The Favourite is available to stream via Disney+, Google Play, YouTube Movies and Amazon Video. Whenever Yorgos Lanthimos' name comes up in film-related chatter, it's usually accompanied by the words 'Greek Weird Wave'. Since Dogtooth earned an Oscar nomination, the director has become synonymous with the offbeat cinema coming out of his homeland — movies that, like the filmmaker's grief-focused Alps, proudly explore life with more than a dash of absurdity. He's since moved on to English-language productions with high-profile stars, but the same strange sensibilities remain baked into his work. That said, perhaps Lanthimos' movies aren't all that odd. Perhaps he's simply stripping away the social niceties that we've all been taught to accept, and exposing human interaction for the transactional exchange that it is. If The Lobster's vision of love or The Killing of a Sacred Deer's tale of a family facing tragedy didn't already make it plain, Lanthimos' films present the world as a constant fight between giving and taking. Rarely has that been more apparent than in The Favourite, where a monarch's lackeys view friendship with a royal as a path to personal glory. So, Sarah Churchill (Rachel Weisz) gives the needy, gout-stricken, often bedridden Queen Anne (Olivia Colman) everything she wants: companionship, love, sex, an ear to hear all of her worries and a steady hand to help rule the kingdom. Well, almost everything. She can't abide the 17 rabbits that Anne treats as her surrogate children for a very sad reason, and she's not afraid to tell the sovereign when her makeup makes her look like a badger. But Sarah also takes, elevating her own power as the country tries to survive the War of Spanish Succession, and then flouting her status over the rest of the scheming court. Into an ostensibly comfortable situation arrives Abigail Hill (Emma Stone), a cousin of Sarah's who has fallen upon hard times. The newcomer's request for a servant job goes smoothly enough, but here's the catch when life is a perpetual tug-of-war: everyone only wants to give if they're going to get something in return. Oozing ruthlessness and cunning despite her innocent facade, Abigail makes herself indispensable to the Queen. Soon, it's the younger woman who's always by the ruler's side. The equally calculating Sarah might be trying to oversee England's military strategies against the French and keep an influential landowner (Nicholas Hoult) in his place, however she still has time to battle it out for Anne's attention and affection. The savage dialogue, each line wittier, bleaker and yet still funnier than the next. The gleeful abandon of polite, ordinary behaviour. The acerbic insights that prove equal parts perceptive and awkward. Thanks to all three — plus an utter disdain for meeting anyone's expectations — being an actor in Lanthimos' films seems like one of the best jobs in the world. Working with a script by first-timer Deborah Davis and Australian screenwriter Tony McNamara (Puberty Blues), Colman, Weisz and Stone all lap up their parts. Colman might've been deemed the lead for awards consideration (and may very well win a deserved Oscar as a result), but this is a stellar three-hander. The trio of talents relish Lanthimos' usual penchant for stilted conversations, as well as his foray into new territory. While a politically charged, 19th century, somewhat slapstick comedy isn't the filmmaker's usual wheelhouse, maybe it should be. As fantastic a director as Lanthimos is of actors, he's also an auteur with a distinctive eye. His movies resemble no one else's — and when he's satirising history in a lavish period picture that also keenly reflects today's political chaos, that fact is blatantly apparent. The Favourite looks the part, with its action largely confined to the Queen's ornately appointed castle, and with its characters donning decadent dresses and powdered wigs. But, using fish-eye lenses to literally give a different perspective, plus wide shots to emphasise the stifling nature of the palace's empty spaces, Robbie Ryan's (American Honey) cinematography is anything but stiff and formal. There's a bite to Lanthimos' approach, of course, as there always is. He isn't just interested in depicting the selfishness and arrogance behind Anne, Sarah and Abigail's twisted triangle. As one hell of a final shot hammers home, he's all about the cost. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2G8SetsNM4
It outraged tyrants, terrified theatre chains and knocked one of Hollywood's most powerful executives
UPDATE, Friday, November 10: The Killer screens in select cinemas from Thursday, October 26, and streams via Netflix from Friday, November 10. A methodical opening credits sequence that's all about the finer points, as seen in slivers and snippets, set to industrial strains that can only stem from Trent Reznor, with David Fincher and Andrew Kevin Walker's names adorning the frame, for a film about a murderer being chased. In 1995, Se7en began with that carefully and commandingly spliced-together mix — and magnificently. Fincher and Walker now reteam for the first time since for The Killer, another instantly gripping thriller that starts in the same fashion. It also unfurls as a cat-and-mouse game with a body count, while sporting an exceptional cast and splashing around (exactingly, of course) the full scope of Fincher's filmmaking mastery. This movie's protagonist is detail-obsessive to a calculating degree, and the director bringing him to cinematic life from Matz's graphic novels of the same name also keeps earning that description. The Fight Club, The Social Network and Mank helmer couldn't be more of a perfectionist about assembling The Killer just so, and the feature couldn't be more of a testament to his meticulousness. Fincher's love of crime and mysteries between Se7en and The Killer has gifted audiences The Game, Panic Room, Zodiac, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Gone Girl and Mindhunter, which have always felt like different books from a series rather than a director flipping through the same tome over and over. So it is with Michael Fassbender's long-awaited return to the screen after a four-year absence — X-Men: Dark Phoenix was has his last credit before this — which sees Fincher and his star aping each other in an array of ways. As well as being oh-so-drawn to minutiae, as the eponymous character reinforces in his wry narration, this duo of filmmaker and fictional assassin-for-hire are precise and compulsive about refashioning something new with favourite tools. For The Killer, it's fresh avenues to fulfill his deadly occupation. For the man who kicked off his feature career with Alien³ and now collaborates with a Prometheus and Alien: Covenant alum, it's plying his own trade, too. As Le Samouraï and Haywire have before this — Fassbender also appeared in Haywire, aptly — plus the John Wick franchise, The Killer finds someone in a shadowy line of work getting even murkier folks literally gunning for their demise. But first The Killer meets its namesake in Paris, camping out in an abandoned WeWork office, sleeping, people-watching, working through complicated yoga poses and grabbing a meal from McDonalds while dressed to resemble a German tourist, who he's certain that the French will avoid. Also on his to-do list: listening to every well-known song by The Smiths there is throughout the course of the film, because heaven knows he'll be miserable when his City of Light gig goes awry. And, as he waits, he coolly and calmly talks viewers through his highly disciplined, runs-like-clockwork, empathy-free approach to both life and death. It all goes smoothly for the hitman until it doesn't, however. The Killer quotes Popeye to say "I am what I am" about his way of making a living and his penchant for it, but fellow tautophrase "it is what it is" also comes to mind when a painstakingly lined-up shot from afar doesn't hit its target. His reaction: "WWJWBD?" or "what would John Wilkes Booth do?", he opines. Really, the screen's latest contract killer hops continents, countries and cities in an existential and mortal bind not just because he's flubbed a job, but because he's soon tracking down the other villains who've made cleaning up his misfire brutally personal. So, while his first port of call from Paris is the Dominican Republic, New Orleans, Florida and just outside of New York are among the destinations that follow. Most folks that The Killer crosses paths with get a similarly succinct moniker, including The Lawyer (Charles Parnell, Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One), The Brute (Sala Baker, Jungle Cruise), The Expert (Tilda Swinton, Asteroid City) and The Client (Arliss Howard, Mank). When Fassbender was once in everything everywhere for most of a decade, he too tinkered with many of the same traits that he's called upon to roll out in The Killer, from unrelenting in Hunger and single-minded in Shame to literally soulless in his Alien franchise stints and utterly consumed in Macbeth. His portrayal here is all killer, no throwbacks or filler, and it slays. He's as deadpan as he's ever been, as Fincher needs, but he's also exceptional as someone forced to realise that his rigid facade and detached air hides more than an all-business executioner inside. It's a mesmerisingly layered performance with fastidious subtleties, and that says as much without a word as all of those voiceover words. And, crucially, Fassbender knows and owns the tone: sardonic, and gleefully so. It isn't just the mix of Reznor and Atticus Ross' latest ominous Fincher score — their first, for The Social Network, won them an Oscar — with Morrissey, Johnny Marr, Andy Rourke and Mike Joyce's lyrical 80s yearning but anti-yearning that's funny in The Killer. And whether 'How Soon Is Now?', 'Bigmouth Strikes Again' or 'There Is a Light That Never Goes Out' is echoing, there's no doubting the humour behind the movie's main music choice as it helps bring viewers into the mercenary's mind (American Psycho's use of Huey Lewis and the News tapped its toes in the same territory, but The Killer isn't asking anyone if they like The Smiths). Fincher and Walker litter comedic touches everywhere, from aliases straight out of classic sitcoms to pointed statements about well-known brands. It's there in the sly internal monologue that their central figure keeps uttering around "stick to the plain", "anticipate, don't improvise" and other rules; the cycle of repetition that comes with it; altercations and their corresponding commentary; and, unshakeably and purposefully, the bigger picture. In look and efficiency, The Killer is also sharing what Swinton is selling in her scenes; both are icy, particular and sleek, with the film never wasting an emotion or moment. Fincher's frames glean as crisply as Swinton's blonde-topped David Bowie-channelling aesthetic, with help from Mank and Mindhunter cinematographer Erik Messerschmidt. The Killer is unsurprisingly rigorously pieced together as well, aided by the director's now six-time film editor Kirk Baxter (since The Curious Case of Benjamin Button). Welcomely stripped back, this a focused picture that's eager to be as streamlined as possible in a field, aka hired-gun flicks, where it's anything but a lone hand. Standing apart amid the murder-for-money masses is what The Killer wants, too, despite blending in being a professional must. As Fincher hones in on an assassin and the conscience that he says he doesn't have — including when noting that the amount of births and deaths each day means that his contribution to mortality rates barely registers — this riveting, reflective, slinkily engaging, expertly and finely pared thriller hits the bullseye in leaving an impression.
Held at Kurrawa Park in Broadbeach each year, Crafted Beer Festival will unite a heap of Australia's top craft breweries, over 400 different brews, and some good food and live music to line your stomachs and ears when it returns for 2024. The date to pop in your diary: Saturday, September 14. In past years, locals such as Balter Brewing Company, Black Hops Brewing, Currumbin Valley Brewing, Burleigh Barrels, Madocke Beer and Two Mates Brewing have joined up with visitors from elsewhere in Queensland and interstate, such as Ballistic, Slipstream and Revel — and that's but a few of the many beer houses that are represented on the day. More of a cider person? Expect a range of cideries making the pilgrimage to the coast, too. Food-wise, there'll be food trucks and other street food eats. Fingers crossed for truffle gnocchi, German sausages, paella, Brazilian barbecue, low-and-slow meat plates, brisket burgers, Mexican bites and seafood dishes — aka a hearty spread. As well as live tunes, usually on the fest's agenda is beer yoga, where you can perform a few downward dogs before you down your beer — it's all about balance, after all. Or, if the lineup mimics past years, enjoy some comedy, play tipsy Twister and enter a hot wing-eating contest instead.
If there's a force as frightful as facing certain death, humanity is yet to find it. Knowing that everyone who lives will die is the most terrifying thing that anyone will ever have to deal with, as well as the most obvious and commonplace — and it's also the fear-inducing bogeyman that continues to spook the horror genre. In the form of killer ghosts, malingering spirits and demonic forces from the great beyond, the inescapable end also haunts the Conjuring universe, to the surprise of absolutely no one. The growing franchise's other source of scares, however, is perhaps much less expected. In The Conjuring, the flick that started the series, a family grapples with the spectre of an accused witch. In its sequel, as well as in spin-off The Nun, evil takes the form of a bride of Christ. In the Annabelle films, a doll is possessed by a dead girl, turning murderous. And now in The Curse of the Weeping Woman, the saga finds its shocks in a mother who turns into a child-drowning apparition. This unsettling franchise might be based on the work of paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren, and on Mexican folklore in the current movie's case, but as each new instalment shows, it's not only scared by supernatural stories of death. Womanhood and its symbols are also something to fear here. Women and children are usually the casualties, too. As genuine spooks increasingly give way to haunting by the numbers, the series' need to vilify and victimise its way to box office success is blatant, lazy and more concerning than anything on-screen. The Curse of the Weeping Woman begins with its own origin story, introducing viewers to the tale of La Llorona. In Mexico in 1673, a beautiful young woman (Marisol Ramirez) lives a happy life with her husband and two sons, until she's driven to kill her boys in the river — and destined to keep trying the same trick with other children for all of eternity. Three centuries later, Los Angeles social worker Anna Tate-Garcia (Linda Cardellini) crosses paths with the deadly spirit as part of a case, when she finds that something is amiss with one of her clients (Patricia Velásquez). Soon, La Llorona has her sights set on Anna's kids (Roman Christou and Jaynee-Lynne Kinchen), and only a renegade former priest (Raymond Cruz) can help the fearful family. Directed by first-timer Michael Chaves, The Curse of the Weeping Woman polishes up its formulaic parts more effectively than it might initially seem, especially six films into a flagging franchise. There's nothing new in its bumps and jumps, but many of those creepy moments elicit the right visceral response — while no one will be leaping out of their chairs, viewers might find themselves inching forward automatically. Alas, horror movies aren't just about shocks, scares and keeping a series going in a dutifully unnerving manner. They're not just about swooping camerawork and stalking through a spooky house either, although those are two techniques that the picture also uses well. Conjuring up a momentary reaction lasts for just that, a moment. Retaining audience interest between bouts of ghostly mayhem is much more difficult, particularly given that screenwriters Mikki Daughtry and Tobias Iaconis are as eager to stick to cliches as they were in their last script: teen illness weepie Five Feet Apart, which is also currently in cinemas. Many a routine scarefest has found success by taking the same route, which is why such boilerplate films keep appearing. Many an average movie has squandered a great actor — here, the committed Cardellini — within generic horror material. But plonk all of the above in a fast-expanding series that keeps pulling the same stunt, and it wears thin. Specifically package it with another supposedly terrifying tale about an unhinged symbol of womanhood wreaking havoc, and it grates louder than the creakiest of doors and floorboards. What's scariest in The Curse of the Weeping Woman isn't the fact that it lays bare the Conjuring Universe's reliance upon frightening symbols of femininity, but that it makes it plain in such an unashamed way. It might make sense to turn the bringers of life into harbingers of death, preying upon existential worries in the process, but at this point in the franchise it's also wearyingly, disappointingly easy. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCOp9jCG07I
UPDATE, February, 5, 2021: Malcolm & Marie is available to stream via Netflix. Where everything from Blue Valentine and the Before trilogy to Marriage Story have previously gone, Malcolm & Marie follows: into the fiery heat and knotty struggles of a complicated relationship. Like the heartbreaking Blue Valentine, it charts ecstatic highs and agonising lows. As Before Sunrise, Before Sunset and Before Midnight did, it relies upon dialogue swapped frequently, passionately and with chemistry. And stepping in Marriage Story's territory, it follows a director and an actor as their career choices highlight issues they've plastered over with sex, smiles and their usual routine for far too long. Still, while assembled from familiar pieces — the aforementioned movies aren't alone in stripping bare complex amorous entanglements, as the likes of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and Scenes From a Marriage demonstrated first — Malcolm & Marie slinks into its niche. It's devastatingly stylish thanks to its black-and-white colour palette, elegant costuming and luxurious single-location setting. It glides by almost entirely on the strength of its ferocious performances. But it's also indulgent and obvious, as well as clumsy in its handling of many of its conversation topics. Like most relationships, it soars at times and sinks at others. Shot in quarantine in mid-2020, the romance drama meets its eponymous couple on a momentous night, with filmmaker Malcolm (John David Washington, Tenet) all abuzz after the premiere of his latest feature. The critics gushed to him in-person so, arriving back at the flashy house that's been rented for him, he's drunk on praise and eager to celebrate with Marie (Zendaya, Spider-Man: Far From Home). As she cooks him mac 'n' cheese, he pours drinks and relives the evening's highlights. But Marie isn't as enthusiastic, or as willing to cast everything about the premiere in a rosy glow. The catalyst for her simmering discontent, other than just the state of their relationship: as Malcolm & Marie writer/director Sam Levinson admits he did himself at the premiere of his 2017 movie Assassination Nation, Malcolm forgot to thank Marie. Levinson's wife only brought it up once, he has said; however, the moment the subject comes up on-screen, Marie isn't willing to accept Malcolm's claim that he simply forgot. Cue oh-so-much arguing, mixed in with cosier banter, broader chats about art and politics, Marie's frequent escapes outside to smoke and Malcolm's impatient waiting for the first reviews of his film to drop. Marie bathes, slipping out of her shimmering dress. Malcolm dances, and also thinks that playing the right song at the right time will patch over all of his girlfriend's worries. Again and again, their discussion circles back to their history. Malcolm's movie is about a 20-year-old addict, and Marie once was that woman. She feels as if her real and painful experiences have hoovered up by him, without any appreciation or recognition — without casting her in the role, too — a contention that his lack of public acknowledgement has only solidified. In response, he easily spits back all the ways he didn't raid her life, and all the other women from his past he also used for inspiration. It can get repetitive, as wars of words are known to in the intensity of the moment, and yet Malcolm & Marie is at its best when its characters fight specifically about their relationship. That's when the film stings with authenticity; Levinson's own situation mightn't have turned out the same way, but no one is a stranger to quarrelling with their nearest and dearest, and his script shows it. When Malcolm & Marie works other affairs into the back-and-forth, though, it overplays its hand. It threatens to forget that it's about people rather than about ideas. Levinson takes aim at the current state of cinema and the discourse it inspires — including increasing calls for authenticity in bringing stories to the screen, the response that it's the craft rather than the experience that truly makes filmic art, and the way movies by talent from marginalised backgrounds are viewed through that lens — but his navel-gazing feel muddled and hollow at best. Case in point: the feature also has Malcolm delight in being fawned over by critics, rage against writers he doesn't think understand his work and complain about anyone who reads his films in a way he doesn't approve. Thankfully, even in Malcolm & Marie's least necessary scenes, it boasts Zendaya and Washington. No one else is seen in the film, in fact. Zendaya won an Emmy in 2020 for TV series Euphoria — which Levinson created, writes and has directed the bulk of, and is also based on his own experiences — and she's in blistering form here as well. When Marie is still glammed up from the night's festivities, Zendaya wears a mask of composure and determination atop her flawless makeup. When the character changes, then pads around in her underwear, the exacting performer lets her facade drop in favour of a more relaxed but still just as raw brand of pain and fury. She's impossible to look away from, but Washington is no slouch. He's given the least sympathetic but also more overtly showy part, and wears it like a second skin. Indeed, he sells Malcolm's arrogance, privilege, never-wavering confidence and volatile anger that comes out in his rants as convincingly as he sold the ruse that was crucial to his role in BlacKkKlansman. Zendaya and Washington's performances are so strong and compelling — hers especially — that when the two-hander's material lets them down, it's noticeable. The screenplay's lack of resonance and texture, key traits evident in all the best relationship dramas, is evident, too. As a result, the film easily leaves viewers wondering what might've eventuated if it hadn't been cooked up in a pandemic, designed to work within COVID-19 restrictions and scripted in six days. Cracks in even the most blissful romances take time to expand. Malcolm and Marie's central love affair has clearly never been all sunshine and roses, but the movie they're in lacks the weightiness that might've come if it had been the product of a longer gestation process. Levinson's sultry and gorgeous visuals also call attention to the movie's hastiness. From leisurely tracking shots peering in at its key duo from outside their lush abode to the many exquisite-looking ways it frames Zendaya and Washington together, Malcolm & Marie is designed to look timeless, and yet the substance that's supposed to anchor that style continually feels rushed. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CGZmwsK58M8 Image: Netflix.
In news as certain as Han Solo's swagger, C-3P0's disapproval and Leia Organa proving the fiercest princess in the entire galaxy, another round of orchestra-scored Star Wars screenings is making its way across Australia — and this time, Star Wars: Episode VI — Return of the Jedi will be unleashing the force. What was originally the final flick in George Lucas' space saga is headed to Sydney's ICC Sydney Theatre on Saturday, September 7, 2019, and Melbourne's Hamer Hall on Friday, November 8 and Saturday, November 9, 2019. While Brisbane details have yet to be announced, we'd expect them to arrive soon. If you've been hiding out on Tattooine and aren't quite sure what's in store, this climactic instalment features a second Death Star, a tribe of Ewoks on Endor, Han Solo imprisoned by Jabba the Hutt, plenty of family baggage and one heck of a father-and-son battle — so, classic Star Wars thrills. And, it's all set to John Williams' iconic score, which each city's symphony orchestra will recreate right in front of attendees' eager eyes and ears. As always, we've got a good feeling about this mix of movies and music, which should help fill the gap between this year's Solo: A Star Wars Story and next year's Star Wars: Episode IX. Star Wars: Episode VI — Return of the Jedi will screen at Sydney's ICC Sydney Theatre on Saturday, September 7, 2019, with tickets now available — and Melbourne's Hamer Hall on Friday, November 8 and Saturday, November 9, 2019, with tickets on sale from Wednesday, September 26. Details of a Brisbane session have yet to be announced.
We hate to break it to you Australia, but there’s yet another reason to lament the current dominance of the fun police. As of March 7, drinking in the street in New York City's Manhattan will no longer be a criminal act. Start spreading the news. Yep, whether you’re lazing about in Central Park, strolling through Harlem or reliving the '60s in Greenwich Village — that is, anywhere on the island of Manhattan — you can crack open a cold one and enjoy it at your leisure, without fearing arrest or a criminal record. That said, drinking’s been decriminalised, not legalised — and only in the borough of Manhattan. In practice, decriminalisation usually means you can expect the police to turn a blind eye to minor offences, and to give warnings rather than make arrests. Strictly speaking, you could still cop a fine and/or summons. So, if you’re contemplating kicking back with a glass of champagne or two on a SoHo stoop, don’t go making any trouble. The idea behind the policy change is to redirect New York City’s resources towards weightier and more dangerous matters. "Using summonses instead of arrests for low-level offenses is an intuitive and modern solution that will help make sure resources are focused on our main priority: addressing threats to public safety,” Mayor Bill de Blasio said in a media statement. “Today’s reforms allow our hardworking police officers to concentrate their efforts on the narrow group of individuals driving violent crime in New York City. This plan will also help safely prevent unnecessary gaol time for low-level offenses.” If this news has you booking a one-way flight to NYC, you might be interested to know that drinking’s not the only pastime to have been decriminalised. Others include littering, riding between subway cars, taking up more than one subway seat and — wait for it — urinating in public. Via The Observer. Image: Ben Duchac.
Not only pouring copious amounts of beer, but also making yeasty, boozy tipples, breweries are the kind of place where liquid usually flows freely. That's all well and good when it's in a pint, but it's obviously devastating when its from floodwaters — as a number of Brisbane joints have experienced in the past few weeks. Milton Common, Newstead Brewing Co, Range, Parched, Brewtide and Fonzie Abbott all sadly know this story, as does Granddad Jack's Distillery — because flooding doesn't care what kind of alcohol you prefer. So, to help raise money for the folks affected, Woolloongabba's Easy Times Brewing Company is putting on karma kegs and hosting a day-long fundraiser. It's your latest excuse to drink beer for a great cause, it's called The Great Brown LemonAID and it's happening from 11.30am on Saturday, March 12. Ten taps will be dedicated to the event, and there'll be kegs from each flooded brewery. Whatever you choose to drink, the funds will be pooled and split evenly, however. You can also nab limited-edition growlers designed by Thirsty Merchants, or one of ten numbered Golden Growlers — and there'll be an auction both online and live on the day, with prizes including Brisbane Lions VIP tickets, a stay in Maleny and winning your height in Stone & Wood beer. [caption id="attachment_833283" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Brewtide[/caption] Top image: Darren Ward.
Motivated by Council's plan to revitalise Brisbane's inner-city laneways, Urbane co-owners Andrew Patten and Andrew Buchanan opened the Laneway bar in late 2009. Despite the source of its inspiration, expect no cosy recess or unassuming hole in the wall. Though its perch overlooking Spencer Lane is discreet, the Laneway itself is a slickly designed, elevated room affixed to the back of sister establishment the Euro (via which it is accessible). With a roomy and uncluttered interior, the Laneway is a favoured spot for after-five drinks. The food — a cut above your standard pub snacks — also draws a crowd of workers at lunch. Share plates can be mixed and matched by combining 'substantials' (we recommend the Southern-style fried chicken, seasoned with 27 herbs and spices and served with a chipotle sauce) and 'accompaniments' (barbequed sweet corn with a spiced popcorn dry rub, boquerones served with lemon and garlic). Drinks specials change every week, and the range of beverages should keep everyone happy — domestic and imported beers and wines, some refreshing cocktails and, most significantly, a sweeping variety of spirits (the list of whiskeys is particularly impressive).
The sophomore film from John Michael McDonagh, Calvary begins with a simple conversation that sets the scene for everything that's to come. As the camera holds on the face of the quiet Father James (Brendan Gleeson), we listen to a man give confession. A victim of childhood sexual assault, the unseen man outlines the horrors that were inflicted on him by one of James's fellow members of the clergy. Now an adult, the man wants justice, but his assailant has long since died. So he has decided to murder James instead, giving the priest until the following Sunday to get his affairs in order. There are certainly similarities between Calvary and McDonough's previous film, the potty-mouthed buddy-cop comedy The Guard. Both feature standout performances from Brendon Gleeson, both have a distinctively un-PC sense of humour, and both populate their rural Irish setting with a collection of colourful characters. Dylan Moran, Chris O'Dowd and Game of Thrones' Aidan Gillen play a few of the more memorable townsfolk, any one of whom could be the murderer in waiting. McDonagh's comic pen is incredibly sharp, mixing caustic wisecracks with bemused non sequiturs and moments of perfectly timed profanity. But much more so than in The Guard, the humour here is heavily shaded with melancholy. McDonagh downplays the mystery; there's a feeling that it doesn't really matter who is planning to kill Father James, who does little to avoid his preordained fate. He himself is innocent, but knows that others in his station were not. Perhaps he feels obligated to do penance on their behalf. Certainly, the Irish felt the shock of the Catholic sex abuse scandals more than most. As Father James visits his parishioners for what may be the very last time, he's witness to a community scarred by cynicism and mistrust. His sense of personal isolation is enhanced by the rocky coastal setting, as bleak and unforgiving as it is beautiful. Gleeson's performance is one of the best of his career, full of wit, weariness and dignity. Father James is a good man, and no fool. Yet he's increasingly out of place in a world that is rapidly losing its faith. McDonagh tackles big ideas, from the need (or lack thereof) for organised religion to questions of death, responsibility and forgiveness. Blessedly, whenever things threaten to become too heady, McDonagh grounds them with a moment of deadpan comic relief. It's an incredible tightrope act. Black comedies have a habit of descending into snark, but here the balance feels just right. Tonally, emotionally and spiritually complex, Calvary comes highly recommended. https://youtube.com/watch?v=JErdUGpSYqI
Sitting outside, eating tapas, drinking good wine: that's what summer in Brisbane is all about, isn't it? It's certainly what Quysine Bar and Restaurant is all about, and it has a great bayside location to prove it. You'll find the new addition to Cleveland just a street away from the shore, serving lunch and dinner six days a week. Ample outdoor seating takes care of the al fresco dining situation. The usual beer, wine, cider, cocktail and non-alcoholic beverage selection takes care of everyone's drinking needs. And, then there's Quysine's range of meals. Because sharing is caring, tapas is on the menu here, spanning smoked pork croquettes, ham and cheesy garlic bread, Portuguese peri peri chicken livers, and the chef-recommended likes of salt and pepper calamari, and tiger prawns. Those on the hungrier side might want to opt for the roasted pumpkin and haloumi salad, or a choice of two steaks, pasta, chicken or fish.
Sculpture by the Sea is a landmark event in Sydney's cultural calendar each year, drawing huge crowds to the two-kilometre Bondi-Tamarama coastal walk every October to gaze at the larger-that-life artworks. Unfortunately, as with many events, 2020 wasn't the exhibition's year. Plans for the event were forced to be abandoned, although Sydneysiders were treated to Milan Kuzica's towering fluro sculpture Green Life on the Tamarama foreshore as a consolation. When organisers originally announced there would be no 2020 edition of Sculpture by the Sea, an early 2021 date was floated. Sadly, this date has been pushed back again and large-scale art fans will have to wait until spring for the event's latest iteration, with October 2021 being announced as the new, pandemic-pending date for the exhibition. Organisers were optimistic an early 2021 event could be achieved but failed to secure an exemption from NSW Health Department last October. The event will instead go ahead in October with the same lineup of artists originally planned for 2020, plus two or three new additions scheduled to join the roster. Sculpture Rocks, a collaboration between Sculpture by the Sea, Place Management NSW and the Ports Authority of NSW that was set to see Japanese sculpture take over Campbells Cove in The Rocks this January, has also been postponed. The smaller-scale sculpture event is now planned for mid-2021. It has been a turbulent couple of years for the team behind the beloved Sydney art exhibition. In 2019, organisers clashed with Waverley Council over the design of a new path, threatening to move the event out of the council area. The planned upgrades to the area were completed in October 2019 before Sculpture buy the Sea came to an agreement with Waverley Council to remain in Bondi until at least 2030. Sculpture by the Sea is currently aiming to take place in October 2021. Stay up to date with the latest announcements at sculpturebythesea.com. Images: Trent Van der Jagt
After introducing its cookie pies to the world earlier this year — and serving up an OTT red velvet version, a gooey choc-hazelnut-filled one and a peanut butter and jelly variety as well — Gelato Messina is bringing the decadent dessert back yet again. This time, though, it's quite the Frankenstein's monster of a dessert. If you like fairy bread, cookie pies and Messina's gelato, prepare to get excited. Hang on, a cookie pie? Yes, it's a pie, but a pie made of cookie dough. And it serves two-to-six people — or just you. You bake it yourself, too, so you get to enjoy that oh-so-amazing smell of freshly baked cookies wafting through your kitchen. Now that you're onboard with the overall cookie pie concept, the fairy bread version really is exactly what it sounds like. That crunchy, crumbly cookie dough is filled with vanilla custard, then topped with more 100s and 1000s than you've probably seen since your childhood birthday parties. On its own, the indulgent pie will cost $20. But to sweeten the deal, the cult ice creamery has created a few bundle options, should you want some of its famed gelato atop it (vanilla is recommended for this particular pie). You can add on a 500-millilitre tub for $28, a one-litre tub for $36 or a 1.5-litre tub for $39. If you're keen to get yourself a piece of the pie, they're available to preorder from Monday, July 27 — with pick up between Friday, July 31 and Sunday, August 2 from your chosen Messina store. Once you've got the pie safely home, you just need to whack it in the oven for 25–30 minutes at 165 degrees and voila. You can preorder a Messina fairy bread cookie pie from Monday, July 27, to pick up from all NSW, Vic and Queensland Gelato Messina stores (except The Star). Melburnians are currently instructed to only visit their local cafe or shop, with Messina's Melbourne stores located in Fitzroy, Richmond, Windsor and, as a pop-up, in Brunswick East.
Speeding onto screens with instant brand awareness is 2023's big trend. Air, Tetris, The Super Mario Bros Movie, Flamin' Hot and Barbie: they've all been there and done that already. Now it's Gran Turismo's turn, albeit with a film that isn't quite based on the video game of the same name. Directed by Neill Blomkamp (District 9, Elysium, Chappie), and penned by Jason Hall (American Sniper) and Zach Baylin (King Richard), it also doesn't tell the racing simulator's origin story. Rather, this pedal-to-the-metal flick focuses on the real-life Nissan PlayStation GT Academy initiative from 2008–16, and the tale of British racer Jann Mardenborough specifically. The overall program endeavoured to turn the world's top Gran Turismo players into IRL motorsports drivers — and the Cardiff-raised Mardenborough is one of its big success stories. The ins and outs of GT Academy receives hefty attention in Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story, plus Mardenborough's life-changing experience along with it; however, much is also made of a massive marketing push. Air, Tetris, Flamin' Hot: yes, they should all come to mind again. Here, Nissan executive Danny Moore (Orlando Bloom, Carnival Row) wants to attract new customers, ideally those leaping from mashing buttons to hitting the road. Accordingly, he conjures up the console-to-racetrack idea to help make that sales boost happen. You don't see it in Gran Turismo the feature, but surely taking the whole situation into cinemas if the underlying concept proved a hit was part of that initial plan as well. Amid the ample product placement anywhere and everywhere that the film can slide it in, that certainty thrums constantly. Kicking into gear based on Mardenborough's tale, the big-screen Gran Turismo has an unsurprisingly engineered air from the outset, then. If filmmaking at its most formulaic sticks to a track, and it does, then this example doesn't dare deviate for a single second. Hall and Baylin gleefully take Hollywood license with the facts, too, and early. For starters, Mardenborough is positioned as the first champion at GT Academy, and part of a make-or-break gambit when he scores his chance to turn professional. In actuality, the program had anointed two previous winners. That's the thing about keeping on your line: it's meant to be the optimal route. So, if you're adhering to the usual rousing underdog sports-film script, which Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story always is, then that kind of tweaking is standard — and, at best, feels like it. The movie's Mardenborough (Archie Madekwe, Beau Is Afraid) has only ever wanted one thing for his future: to race. While his ex-footballer dad Steve (Djimon Hounsou, Shazam! Fury of the Gods) thinks it's unrealistic, he's always dreamed of getting behind the wheel IRL, but he'll take Gran Turismo's lifelike approximation if that's all that's on offer. Enter Moore's gimmick, with Mardenborough's skills in the game earning him a near-fantastical opportunity, and seeing him hop from Wales to Japan, Dubai, Germany, France and more. Although his mother Lesley (Geri Horner, aka Spice Girl Geri Halliwell) is more supportive, trainer Jack Salter (David Harbour, Violent Night), a former driver himself and the man that'll become the GT Academy's mentor, is as sceptical as anyone can be about the entire notion. That's accurate even after Salter agrees to the gig, a choice made purely because he's working for an arrogant and entitled rich kid (Josha Stradowski, The Wheel of Time) otherwise. Someone segueing from excelling behind a gamer's racing wheel at home and in arcades to competing in motorsports — Mardenborough has gotten zipping in formula racing as well, and hit the track at 24 Hours of Le Mans — is genuinely remarkable. As a result, plenty about Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story's subject's reality already fits the against-the-odds template that's reached screens over and over across a plethora of different activities, and that this picture is so slavishly devoted to. Darren Cox, Moore's off-screen equivalent, truly couldn't have hoped for a better story if he was thinking about the silver screen back when he came up with GT Academy. That tinkering when the details don't immediately suit the feature's easy blueprint, however? Again, it's to be thoroughly expected, but it's overtly calculating. Changing the timeline around a fatality solely for dramatic purposes, to give Mardenborough something else to overcome on the road to greatness? That's also deeply shameless and unnecessary. Thankfully, as by the numbers as Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story always proves — and as questionable and needless as some of its plotting choices are — the tension revving through the movie's on-the-track scenes is also genuine. There's little that's out of the ordinary about Blomkamp's approach, nor about cinematographer Jacques Jouffret's (Tom Clancy's Jack Ryan) penchant for swooping sky-high shots (their film doesn't threaten Rush or Ford v Ferrari in the hypnotic stakes, either), but the racing scenes still thrill in the moment. That said, using graphics to construct a car around Mardenborough when he's driving in his bedroom, and to take him back there when he's on the asphalt, isn't the savviest move. Instead of being immersive, it too smacks of needing to shoehorn in as many references to the game, PlayStation and Sony as possible, a motivation that's already evident everywhere that viewers look. There's no mistaking the money-driven motives behind Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story's casting and the characters that it heartily swerves into, too. As Mardenborough, Madekwe is energetic and likeable — convincingly sweet and awkward as required as well — but the fact that the film hinges upon its most bankable name is as glaring as the sun bouncing off a windshield. Since Stranger Things became such a smash, no one enlists Harbour as a cantankerous figure without wanting his irascible best. Blomkamp and company get it, and often, while always making it plain that the feature is built as much around his performance as it is GT Academy, Mardenborough's true tale and selling games. Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story had to get its personality somewhere, of course, because it doesn't spring from its director. Joining the list of acclaimed names doing a workmanlike job on formulaic fare that almost anyone could've handled of late — although doing better than Meg 2: The Trench's Ben Wheatley — he's happy steering a highly watchable but always-routine affair.
If you watched Jemaine Clement and Taika Waititi's vampire sharehouse mockumentary What We Do in the Shadows back in 2014, then instantly found yourself yearning for more, that's understandable. Smart, silly and hilarious, the undead flick is one of the past decade's best comedies. Thanks to two TV spinoffs, that dream has come true, letting viewers keep spending time in the movie's supernatural world — and that's not going to end any time soon. In 2018, the New Zealand-made Wellington Paranormal made it to screens, following the movie's cops (Mike Minogue and Karen O'Leary) as they keep investigating the supernatural. It proved a hit, unsurprisingly, with the first half of the show's second season airing in 2019 — and set to continue in 2020. In 2019, an American television version of What We Do in the Shadows also made its debut, focusing on a group of vampire flatmates living in Staten Island. Featuring Toast of London's Matt Berry, Four Lions' Kayvan Novak, British stand-up comedian Natasia Demetriou, The Magicians' Harvey Guillen, The Office's Mark Proksch and Booksmart's Beanie Feldstein, it sticks to the same basic concept as the original movie, just with memorable new characters. And yes, it too was renewed for a second season — which is due to air this year, and has just released its first puppet-filled teasers. Created and co-written by Clement, and executive produced by the Flight of the Conchords star with Jojo Rabbit Oscar-winner Waititi, the US take on What We Do in the Shadows was first hinted at back in 2017, and then confirmed in May 2018. While the duo don't star in the new-look series, Berry, Novak and company have been doing them proud as the next batch of ravenous — and comic — vamps. Novak plays the gang's self-appointed leader, 'Nandor The Relentless', who dates back to the Ottoman Empire days and is somewhat stuck in his ways. As for Berry's mischievous British dandy Laszlo and Demetriou's seductive Nadja, they're like a blood-sucking Bonnie and Clyde (but much funnier). Guillén plays Nandor's familiar, who'd do anything to join the undead, while Proksch's Colin is an 'energy vampire'. And Feldstein's Jenna is a college student with a new craving. Can't wait to sink your fangs into more? The new batch of episodes will continue the story — charting Nandor, Laszlo, Nadja and the group's undead antics in the New York borough. It wasn't easy being a centuries-old bloodsucker in Wellington in the movie, and it's just as tough (and amusing) on the other side of the world. Check out the first two season two teasers below: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=il1t77obp-8 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m9rX8BT97qI What We Do in the Shadows' second season starts airing on April 15 in the US — expect it to hit Foxtel in Australia sometime this year, with exact local airdates yet to be revealed.
UPDATE: April 28, 2020: Star Wars: Episode IX — The Rise of Skywalker is available to stream via Google Play, YouTube and iTunes — and via Disney+ from Monday, May 4. Pity the fool who directs a Star Wars movie these days, even if that fool is JJ Abrams. It feels like a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away from the internet, when fans only interacted with films at the cinema and movies survived or died largely on merit alone. Back then, criticism and praise happened in private — between friends, colleagues and, occasionally, strangers at conventions. Now, films can fail before they're released. Emboldened by online anonymity and pocket-sized megaphones, devotees decry everything from casting choices to millisecond-long trailer grabs. To borrow from A New Hope, it's as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror that a woman was cast in the lead, or a stormtrooper was both black and friendly. "Thanks for ruining my childhood" became the catchcry for anyone who felt they didn't see the movie they wanted to and, unfortunately, studios started listening. It's in this context that the third and final film in Star Wars' sequels trilogy arrives. Reactions to Rian Johnson's The Last Jedi were as polarised as the entire franchise had seen — with some praising his efforts to reimagine swathes of lore and actually deliver something new for the first time in nearly 30 years, and others (most, even) tearing the film down. Cries of disrespect rang long and loudly as OG fans believed that their beloved characters had rejected everything they'd once stood for. Sure, Johnson dropped the ball on a number of fronts, but at least he tried something different. Star Wars: Episode IX — The Rise of Skywalker does not try anything different. It retreats to the safest possible territory, borrowing heavily from Return of the Jedi to round out a trilogy crippled by an absence of cohesion. Like 2018's Ready Player One, nostalgia is the film's oft-used trump card, relying almost entirely on familiar visual or musical moments to trick you into thinking you're watching something clever or special. The end result is a chaotic, inconsistently paced, 142-minute package of fan service that gets a few things deliciously right and a lot disappointingly wrong. The Rise of Skywalker's best parts, as has been the case across this trilogy, stem from the relationship between Rey (Daisy Ridley) and Ren (Adam Driver). As the only enduring, meaningful source of mystery, Ridley and Driver again deliver committed performances filled with emotion and raw physicality — and both deserved a far greater story. Here, they're after the same thing: the somehow-resurgent Emperor Palpatine. We say 'somehow', because at no point does the film substantially address this crucial point. At least soaps like Dynasty offered explanations when they pulled this narrative trick (it's his evil twin; he fell off a boat and had amnesia; he was in protective custody). For Abrams, Palpatine is just back. In fact, he never left. Still, it's a joy to see Ian McDiarmid reprise one of cinema's greatest villains, with his scenes among the movie's highlights. Another strength, of course, is The Rise of Skywalker's special effects. As always, they're dizzying and dazzling. The large-scale planets and battles are amazing because Industrial Light & Magic — the company that helped kick-start incredible SFX back in 1977 — continues to push new boundaries, but the imagery particularly impresses in smaller ways. The ongoing commitment to practical effects (those that actually happen live on-set), for example, and managing to not only keep Carrie Fisher on-screen two films after she died, but to ensure that Leia remains the franchise's best character. The wizardry behind these posthumous performances must give pause to all working actors; however credit also goes to the writers for holding true to everything that made Leia an iconic hero in the first place. Her lines are limited but her actions speak volumes, and the film's most emotional moments belong to her. Others don't fare nearly as well. Kelly Marie Tran's Rose, a major player in The Last Jedi, is sidelined, as are Domhnall Gleeson and Lupita Nyong'o's characters — while franchise newcomer Keri Russell scarcely appears before she's gone. Even C-3PO is on the outer, notwithstanding one touching moment. Richard E. Grant is an inspired addition, and his turn as a ruthless First Order general makes you wish he'd been there from the beginning. As for Billy Dee Williams' return as Lando Calrissian (as already spoiled in the trailers), it's among the better nostalgic flourishes. Returning to Star Wars after first directing The Force Awakens, that Abrams plays it safe is no surprise. Yes, it can be argued that a franchise this big needs to take fewer risks to ensure it resonates with the widest possible base. Just as true, though, is the fact that playing it safe is a gross disservice to a property worthy and capable of greatness. If this really is the end of this universe as we know it, then surely it would've been better for The Rise of Skywalker to try and fail than fail to try at all. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Qn_spdM5Zg
Suncorp Stadium will always be home to one of the Matilda's most epic matches, after the Australian national women's soccer team defeated France in the 2023 FIFA Women's World Cup semi-finals at the Milton venue. For the squad's next game, they're off to Sydney for a semi-final clash with England to hopefully earn a berth in this year's ultimate decider — but if you're keen to watch all the action in a crowd here in Brisbane again, Sam Kerr and company are also taking over Riverstage. Add the riverside amphitheatre within the Brisbane City Botanic Gardens to your out-of-home viewing options at 8pm on Wednesday, August 16, with the Queensland Government and Brisbane City Council opening up the spot as a live screening site for the night. Riverstage joins King George Square and South Bank, in what's set to be a busy Ekka public holiday around the River City even if you're not hitting Brisbane Showground for a strawberry sundae. BREAKING: We're helping open the Riverstage so more Queenslanders can cheer on the @TheMatildas in their historic semi-final match against England tomorrow night. Thank you to the Brisbane City Council for their partnership in this. pic.twitter.com/2onGa8YLIt — Annastacia Palaszczuk (@AnnastaciaMP) August 15, 2023 "The Matildas have captured the hearts of Australia and I know all of Queensland is behind them as they head into Wednesday's semi-final. Almost half of the Matilda's side are from Queensland, so it's no wonder we are all getting behind them," said Acting Premier Steven Miles. "We want as many people as possible to cheer on the Tillies, which is why the Lord Mayor and I worked together to open up Riverstage as a screening location." [caption id="attachment_913019" align="alignnone" width="1920"] LittleBlinky via Wikimedia Commons.[/caption] "I'm so excited we've been able to work with Deputy Premier Steven Miles to open the Riverstage as an official live site for tomorrow's World Cup semi-final. This will be the biggest game of football in Australia's history," added Lord Mayor Adrian Schrinner. "Brisbane residents deserve to have every opportunity to come together and experience the incredible spectacle of our Matildas taking on England. Between the Riverstage, King George Square and the expanded South Bank fan festival, residents will be able to pick whatever venue works best for them to watch the action live and cheer on our incredible Tillies." View this post on Instagram A post shared by CommBank Matildas (@matildas) In total, Brisbane's live sites will be able to welcome in 23,000 soccer fans cheering on Kerr, Caitlin Foord, Ellie Carpenter, Katrina Gorry, Hayley Raso and the rest of the team — and hoping that Mackenzie Arnold doesn't have quite the tense end to the game after the last match's penalty kicks. Riverstage can accommodate 9000 people, while 2000 folks can crowd into King George Square. The existing South Bank Women's World Cup hub at the Riverside Green and South Bank Piazza can fit 5000 people — and the Rainforest Green (1500 football fans), Cultural Forecourt (2,000 viewers), Flowstate Precinct (1500 folks) and River Quay Green (2000 people) will also be used. Will this match beat the last one to become the nation's biggest TV sports event in a decade again? That looks as certain as Brisbane going all in for all things green and gold. The Matildas take on England at 8pm on Wednesday, August 16, with the match playing on the big screen at Brisbane Riverstage — and in King George Square, and also around South Bank. The FIFA Women's World Cup 2023 runs from Thursday, July 20–Sunday, August 20 across Australia and New Zealand, with tickets available from the FIFA website. Top image: LittleBlinky via Wikimedia Commons.
Two decades after Hae Min Lee's murder, the Baltimore high school student's horrific plight continues to dominate the true crime landscape. After featuring on the first season of Sarah Koenig's grimly addictive podcast Serial, it's now the basis for a new documentary series, The Case Against Adnan Syed. The four-part HBO series picks up where everyone's 2014 obsession left off — the trailers below promise to reveal 'a new chapter' — not only exploring 18-year-old Lee's death in 1999 and her ex-boyfriend Syed's conviction in 2000, but the latter's ongoing quest to have the extremely complex legal matter reassessed in the years since he was found guilty. Everything from Lee and Syed's relationship, to the original police investigation and trial, to the developments up until now will feature, with the film gaining exclusive access to Syed, his family and his lawyers. The series couldn't come at a more crucial time for Syed, who was convicted of first-degree murder, sentenced to life in prison, and continues to fight his case through the courts. While he was granted a new trial in 2016, that ruling was subsequently appealed by the State of Maryland — only for the Court of Special Appeals to agree to vacate Syed's conviction and finally give him that retrial last March. A date for the actual retrial hasn't yet been set, however. Splashed across the small screen, it's certain to make for compelling viewing — but if you think you've spent too much time mulling it all over across the past five years, filmmaker Amy Berg has you beat. Unsurprisingly given how complicated the matter is, the director has been working on the project since 2015. And, with her excellent doco background — with Berg helming 2006's Oscar-nominated 2006 Deliver Us from Evil, about molestation in the Catholic Church; examining the West Memphis Three's quest for freedom in 2012's West of Memphis; and tackling the sexual abuse of teenagers in the film industry in 2014's An Open Secret — her new venture is certain to be thorough. Mere weeks out from launching the series, which airs weekly on HBO from Sunday, March 10, US time, the network has dropped a full trailer. It comes hot on the heels on the first sneak peek earlier this month, which mentioned the investigation of other suspects and new evidence — saying, "the closer you look the more you see". Watch them both here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQaTa5eTxnk https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VA1qzo2WEew As they did for West of Memphis, Nick Cave and Warren Ellis will provide the score. 'The Case Against Adnan Syed' will air on HBO from Sunday, March 10, US time — and then hit Foxtel for Australian viewers later this year. It's not clear yet if the show will air or stream in New Zealand. We'll update you as soon as further release dates have been announced. Image: Adnan Syed via Syed Family / Courtesy of HBO.
It's no doubt that Brisbane's breakfast/brunch scene is fast becoming more than just a craze. Sleep in too much on a Saturday morning and you are sentenced to a 20 minute minimum wait in line for a table at the latest fashionable pre-lunch hangout. For those who want a good wholesome local breakfast complete with a satisfying caffeine fix Tutto Caffé is a must visit. Just down the road from the crowds of Paddington, Tutto is located on Stewart Rd in Ashgrove. Although the decor may be simple, the atmosphere and staff are warm and inviting. The Italian family-owned locale's baked eggs with mushrooms and pesto come highly recommended and upon devouring will leave you wondering why you haven't visited earlier. After two cups of coffee, a bite (or four) of the dining companion's delicious corn cakes with bacon and avocado salsa,è the happy ending on this Saturday morning was without a doubt the affordable bill.
Faces carve deep impressions in Longlegs, in both their presence and their absence. As Agent Lee Harker, Maika Monroe (God Is a Bullet) does so with a clenched jaw, permanently on-edge eyes and mere bursts of words, aka the guise of a woman who'll never stop being vigilant in every moment but doesn't always know exactly why. As the movie's namesake, as announced in the opening credits, Nicolas Cage (Dream Scenario) has audiences straining to catch whatever glimpse they can whenever they can — and when a full look comes, it's scorching and haunting in tandem in the stare alone. Blair Underwood (Origin) gives Harker's boss Carter a weary gaze, but with fully rounded life experience beyond his FBI gig evident behind it. Alicia Witt (Switch Up) plays Ruth Harker, mother to Lee, as distance and struggle personified. As she relays a tale as survivor Carrie Anne Camera, Kiernan Shipka (Twisters) demonstrates how disconnected a grim reality can be from a dream. For his fourth feature following 2015's The Blackcoat's Daughter, 2016's I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House and 2020's Gretel & Hansel — the first of which also starred Shipka — writer/director Osgood Perkins has clearly assembled an excellent cast for his unease-dripping, get-under-your-skin, torment-your-nightmares serial-killer thriller. Another face leaves an imprint beyond his actors, however. Bill Clinton's portrait assists with setting the scene as it adorns bureau offices, with the majority of the movie taking place in the 90s. Think the FBI and three decades back, and there's no lack of pop-culture touchstones. The Silence of the Lambs is one. Monroe's portrayal as a newly minted operative tracking a murderer is every bit as layered, complex and unforgettable — and awards-worthy — as Jodie Foster's (True Detective: Night Country) Oscar-winning performance was. Twin Peaks and The X-Files, Point Break, even Cage's own Face/Off: they all also hail from the 90s and spin stories around the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This lineage is impossible not to ponder every time that Perkins reminds Longlegs viewers of the period that he's working with via Clinton's likeness — and it's a bold move. Getting your audience recalling other films and TV shows can simply spark the wish that they were watching those titles instead, especially when the list is as glorious as the aforementioned flicks and series. But the filmmaker who first started out in horror as a child actor walking in his father's footsteps — Anthony Perkins played Norman Bates in Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho; Osgood was young Norman in Psycho II — makes good on the gambit. No one with their peepers glued to Longlegs would rather be ingesting anything else, no matter how equally exceptional, as it weaves its hypnotic spell. Longlegs bedevils and bewitches early, and earlier than its main era. The pristine snow that surrounds a young girl (Lauren Acala, Motherland: Port Salem) in her yard is a visual blank slate, soon darkened in shadow when Longlegs arrives with happy birthday wishes — and the mood, as thrumming through in feature first-timer Andres Arochi's cinematography, plus Graham Fortin (Ari's Theme) and Greg Ng's (Allegiance) editing, is as thick as the white blanket across the ground with apprehension and tension. When the movie hops forward, already festering is the feeling of an innocent state sullied. That's before learning about Harker and Carter's case, with a string of murder-suicides resembling each other garnering their attention. Families perish, fathers attacking before turning their violence upon themselves, which might be open and shut if there weren't a spate of such incidents over decades, if questions about motive weren't glaring, if a compulsive force — supernatural or otherwise — hadn't earned some thought and if letters in code signed by Longlegs weren't also found at the scenes. There's more than a tightly wound ball of anxiety to Harker, who sports a surname that brings being pursued and toyed with by Dracula — who Cage played in 2023's Renfield — to mind. (Longlegs is the second 2024 horror film to nod to Bram Stoker in its characters' monikers, after Ishana Night Shyamalan's The Watchers.) The movie's lead is also a source of intuition and perhaps clairvoyance, which the FBI is keen to capitalise upon. Indeed, that's why she's been assigned to the Longlegs investigation. She's as dedicated as dedicated comes when sifting through the analogue array of clues, too, with paper and tape amid dimly lit, cabin-esque interiors adding to the tactile sensation. As terse phone calls with her mum illustrate, there's nothing distracting her from her gig, either. Via framing, frequently with symmetry, Perkins conveys that Harker isn't just consumed by chasing down Longlegs — it might be the on-screen fate of ample detectives, including in Se7en and Zodiac, two David Fincher masterpieces that are also patent influences, but the hunt is consuming her back. With the fellow chillers that beat Longlegs to existence, and with elements as familiar in horror as serial killers, the occult, crime-solving procedural crusades, fixated sleuths and all-encompassing disquiet — to name just a few genre go-tos plastered across Perkins' cinematic mood board — the approach is fondness-meets-the filmmaker's own interpretation. That's the picture's guiding principle everywhere, including in Monroe and Cage's immense contributions, each of which is among their respective career highlights. All of Longlegs' key parties know that viewers have seen plenty of these same pieces before in a myriad of ways, and possess a single-minded resolve to avoiding serving up the same. Monroe does this with It Follows and The Guest on her filmography, the 2014 one-two punch about evil lurking among the ordinary and safe spaces terrorised. Cage does it with four decades of efforts that've solidified him as not just a singular actor but the singular actor, and ceaselessly able to surprise. Perkins crafts Longlegs as a dollmaker might, with the utmost of care apparent in each and every component, all building a creation that feels like it's staring piercingly back at you. He isn't afraid of a surreal Lynchian vibe, showing that waking life can immerse you in as much of a frightscape as the worst that your brain can conceive while slumbering — perhaps the most-alarming realisation that there is — but, again, as run through his own filter. He also isn't scared of using sound design to burrow that agitation deep into the audience's subconscious, so that Longlegs is distressing your soul before you, like Harker, are even aware. Chief among the film's strokes of genius is how inescapable its intense dread is, regardless of which traditional horror symbols taunt those watching or how much of Cage as Longlegs can be seen. In an instant classic, all of its pivotal faces are mirrors, then, reflecting the viewer's own.
Cards on the table: thanks to Russian Doll and the Knives Out franchise, Natasha Lyonne and Rian Johnson are both on a helluva streak. In their most recent projects before now, each has enjoyed a hot run not once but twice. Lyonne made time trickery one of the best new shows of 2019, plus a returning standout in 2022 as well, while Johnson's first Benoit Blanc whodunnit and followup Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery were gems of the exact same years. The latter also saw the pair team up briefly — Lyonne and Johnson, that is, although getting a Russian Doll-meets-Knives Out crossover from the universe, or just the Netflix algorithm, would be a dream. Until that wish comes true, there's Poker Face. It's no one's stopgap or consolation prize, however. This new mystery-of-the-week series is an all-out must-see in its own right, and one of 2023's gleaming streaming aces already. Given its components and concept, turning out otherwise would've been the biggest head-scratcher. Beneath aviator shades, a trucker cap and her instantly recognisable (albeit sun-bleached here) locks, Lyonne plays detective again, as she did in Russian Doll — because investigating why you're looping through the same day over and over, or jumping through time, is still investigating. Johnson gives the world another sleuth, too, after offering up his own spin on Agatha Christie-style gumshoes with the ongoing Knives Out saga. This time, he's dancing with 1968–2003 television series Columbo, right down to Poker Face's title font. Lyonne isn't one for playing conventional detectives — not that she couldn't, or wouldn't nail it hands down. Streaming on Stan in Australia and TVNZ On Demand in New Zealand, Poker Face casts her as Charlie Cale, who starts poking around in sudden deaths thanks to an unusual gift and a personal tragedy. As outlined in the show's ten-part first season, four episodes of which arrive on Friday, January 27 with new chapters dropping weekly afterwards, Charlie is a human lie detector. She can instantly tell if someone is being untruthful, a knack she first used in gambling before getting on the wrong side of the wrong people. Then, when a friend and colleague at the far-from-flashy Las Vegas casino where Charlie works winds up dead, that talent couldn't be handier. Poker Face's 1970s-inspired debut episode sets up three whys: why its charmingly wry and affably no-nonsense protagonist knows when anyone around her is fibbing, why the series itself follows her road-tripping across America in a rundown Plymouth Barracuda, and why an episodic array of murders in different places is in her future. Courtesy of her gift, she's soon fleeing casino boss Sterling Frost Sr (Ron Perlman, Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio) and his enforcer Cliff Legrand (Benjamin Bratt, DMZ), then taking whichever odd jobs she can find from town to town. The show's second instalment sees her car break down, requiring a mechanic to patch it up — while its third takes her to a famed brisket barbecue business, and its fourth involves a hit 90s metal band attempting to reclaim past glories on tour. In Poker Face's fifth episode, an aged-care home is the scene of a crime. And in its sixth, two former TV co-stars bicker their way through a play until someone becomes a victim. "Why?" isn't just a question that Johnson — as Poker Face's creator, the writer and director of its first instalment, a helmer twice more, plus a scribe once again as well — has to establish, and fast. As Charlie notes about her preternatural ability, "the real trick of it is figuring out why: why somebody is lying". People spout fabrications and deceptions all day every single day, as she can't avoid everywhere she goes. Mostly, they're minor and have little impact on anyone else, Charlie advises. But it's the reasoning behind the bigger falsehoods that she's interested in. So, the show moves her from place to place, has her hear a lie just as a body shows up, then saddles her with puzzling out what's going on — and, yes, why. Poker Face doesn't hide its own formula, laying it bare from the outset. In its opening episode and all that follow, the focus initially sits with someone who isn't long for this world, their killer and the surrounding players. Viewers watch what happens to that chapter's fated person, scope out all the connected parties, then team up with Charlie — learning where she fits in and witnessing her getting to the bottom of the latest death. Poker Face's audience has the advantage of already seeing what occurred, of course. But, as it does for Charlie, the why still requires unravelling. Often she's putting together what viewers know, but adding further details or context, or seeing the various pieces from different angles. She's also openly calling bullshit frequently, with Lyonne uttering it as often and distinctively as she does "cockroaches" in Russian Doll. In the era of peak TV — peak streaming also — as populated by hook-heavy series demanding non-stop binges, Poker Face does something old-fashioned: it revels in its standalone chapters. Wanting to watch one after another after another is still the end result, but soaking in each mystery rather than constantly setting up the next twist is the show's main aim. Some elements bleed from one instalment to the next, as Charlie keeps trying to evade her pursuers. But for between 45–60 minutes per episode, there's a whodunnit to solve, a contained cast of players, and plenty of Lyonne being a sharp, droll and astute delight. Sometimes she's tasting pieces of wood, too, or calling a dog a fascist. In fact, in the same very episode that contains the timber chewing and canine altercations, she also introduces someone to Bong Joon-ho's Okja — because Poker Face's small joys are many. As comes with the case-of-the-week territory — see also: one of the all-timers in this genre, Law & Order — this series' sweet sleuthing baby is joined by a masterful cast of familiar guest stars. When Lyonne isn't squaring off against Adrien Brody (See How They Run), she's hanging out with The Menu's Hong Chau and Judith Light, or with Lil Rel Howery (Deep Water) and Danielle MacDonald (The Tourist). Her Russian Doll mother Chloë Sevigny (Bones and All) leads those aforementioned metal rockers, while Joseph Gordon-Levitt (Pinocchio), Ellen Barkin (Animal Kingdom), Nick Nolte (The Mandalorian), Cherry Jones (Succession), Jameela Jamil (She-Hulk: Attorney at Law) and newly minted Oscar-nominee Stephanie Hsu (Everything Everywhere All At Once) also feature. Throw in Johnson's own history with mysteries, hailing back to his stellar 2005 movie debut Brick and also including Looper, and Poker Face couldn't boast a better winning hand. Going all in for the series and its big bag of fun is the natural response. Check out the full trailer for Poker Face below: Poker Face streams from Friday, January 27 via Stan in Australia and TVNZ On Demand in New Zealand. Images: Peacock.
A spoonful of sugar isn't needed to make this medicine go down: the Mary Poppins musical is coming to Brisbane. Umbrellas at the ready for the most supercalifragilisticexpialidocious news that you'll hear all day, and all year as well, with the tale of the singing nanny set to take over QPAC's Lyric Theatre from Saturday, October 22. Mary Poppins comes to Brissie fresh from its Australian-premiere Sydney season, and marks a homecoming for two if its stars. Brisbane performers Stefanie Jones and Jack Chambers, who've been acting together since childhood, play Mary Poppins and Bert, respectively. Hailing from Disney and theatre producer Cameron Mackintosh, this current version of the show tells the same enchanting tale that everyone knows from the hugely popular, five-time Oscar-winning 1964 film — which, as well as inspiring this stage adaptation, also gave rise to big-screen sequel Mary Poppins Returns in 2018. Everything to do with the English governess harks back to PL Travers' books about the character, of course, and pop culture has been thankful for and downright delighted with her stories for almost six decades now. When it soars through its Brisbane season between Saturday, October 22–Sunday, January 15, local theatre fans can look forward to a new version of the show that last graced Australia's stages — and won eight Helpmann Awards — back in 2011. Since Mackintosh first teamed up with writer Julian Fellowes (Downton Abbey) to bring Mary Poppins to the theatre in 2004, the production has won four Olivier Awards and a Tony as well. A Cinderella musical is coming the city's way this winter, too — and Frozen started off 2022 as well — so it's clearly a great year to love stage musicals based on beloved tales. If you'd been crossing your fingers that a date with Poppins, the Banks family and their Cherry Tree Lane abode might also come Brissie's way, consider that wish granted. Consider 'A Spoonful of Sugar', 'Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious', the Oscar-winning 'Chim Chim Cher-ee' and 'Let's Go Fly a Kite' stuck firmly in your head until October blows in, too. Images: Daniel Boud.
Roll up, roll up, laugh-loving folks — it's that time of year. Think there's not much in common between a circus and a comedy festival? Well, both throw a feast of different acts your way for you to have a fine night out. And both will make you marvel at just what's possible — in terms of clever gags and, in comedy's case, how much more hilarity your stomach can handlee. At this year's Brisbane Comedy Festival at Brisbane Powerhouse — the event's eighth and biggest yet — there will be more than 66 comedians performing over the course of four weeks. The best thing to do is clear your schedule, dive in and prepare to give your face a workout.
Maya Hawke. A mall. Retro clothes and tunes aplenty. Combine the three, and that's how Fear Street Part 1: 1994 opens. That deja vu you're feeling? That's because they all played a significant part in the third season of Stranger Things, too — but while Hawke is still popping up on Netflix here, she definitely isn't in Hawkins, Indiana anymore. Instead, her character Heather is working at a mall in Shadyside, Ohio. As the movie's moniker makes plain, the year is 1994, so Hawke has jumped into a new decade. Heather is doing the closing shift at a book store, and viewers first see her gushing over an eerie title, fittingly — only for the customer that's buying it to proclaim: "it's trash; lowbrow horror". Fear Street Part 1: 1994 might begin with a wink to its source material — that'd be the teen-oriented RL Stine horror books that hit shelves between 1989–2005 — but that isn't the only nod it serves up. Directed and co-written by Leigh Janiak (Honeymoon), this slasher flick splashes its debts to everything from Halloween to Scream across every frame. That's part of the package, as is plenty of blood, gore, bumps and jumps. The end result is unmistakably formulaic, but aptly so; every novel in Stine's series also earned the same description, as did every Goosebumps book as well. As frequently happens in the opening scenes of horror flicks, Heather's day quickly takes a turn for the worse. That's a rather standard outcome when there's a masked killer on the loose. The next day, the town is shocked and scandalised, although not as much as it really should be — because, unlike its wealthier neighbour town Sunnyvale, Shadyside has a history of these kinds of terrible events. Conspiracy buff Josh (Benjamin Flores Jr, Your Honor) likes to chat about these sinister happenings online. The town even has a witch's curse in its past, too, so there's plenty to discuss in his 90s-era chat rooms. His older sister Deena (Kiana Madeira, Giant Little Ones) doesn't put any stock in the local ghost stories — she has dramas with her ex Sam (Olivia Scott Welch, Unbelievable) to worry about instead — but then the killer heads her way, because of course that's what happens. From there, Fear Street Part 1: 1994 does two things: follows Deena and her friends as they attempt to evade an ancient evil that's plagued the town for centuries, and sets up a trilogy that'll continue in Fear Street Part 2: 1978 and Fear Street Part 3: 1666. A different film will hit Netflix across the first three Fridays in July to add some retro scares to your winter — with Part 2 taking its cues from Friday the 13th by heading to a summer camp in its titular year, and Part 3 pondering the origins of Shadyside's curse in the 1600s. And yes, in its noticeably by-the-numbers fashion, this page-to-screen series thankfully fares better than Goosebumps did when it made the same jump. Check out the trailer for Fear Street Part 1: 1994 below: Fear Street Part 1: 1994 will be available to stream via Netflix on Friday, July 2 — followed by Fear Street Part 2: 1978 on Friday, July 9 and Fear Street Part 3: 1666 on Friday, July 16. Top image: Netflix
