The Yarra will be transformed thanks to a hefty dose of colour next month, as it scores a brand new autumn light festival and market. In a nod to the lantern festivals of Asia, Light Up Melbourne will descend on Birrarung Marr's Lower Terrace from April 6–9, seeing it come alive with huge custom-built lanterns and a multicultural array of market stalls. Nine striking light installations will be installed by the river, including the hero creation: a 27-metre-long work dubbed Eternal Dragon. In between the lanterns, you can expect a jam-packed lineup of cultural performances, main stage entertainment and even a mini amusement park. And, of course, there'll be plenty of great Asian-inspired eats to help set the mood, with a solid selection of market and food stalls, including a Little Sichuan zone dedicated to the Chinese region's gutsy fare. Expect it to be like a smaller version of the Night Noodle Markets. The market is free to enter, and will run from 11am–11pm on Saturday and 11am–10pm on Sunday, then for dinner from 5–10pm on the Monday and Tuesday. Second image: Kimberley May Moore.
Looking for new threads? Sure, you can head to plenty of markets around town and trawl through food, homeware and other objects, or you can mosey along to Melbourne's dedicated ladies fashion get-together. Round She Goes does one thing, and it does it well. If it's clothing, accessories and jewellery you're after, you'll find it here. Filled with preloved designer and vintage fare, the one-day happening will take over Coburg Town Hall on a few Sundays from 10am — on June 23, August 25 and October 6. These editions will boast 60 stalls, all specially curated by organisers to deliver reasonably priced, high-quality bits and pieces, and ranging from beloved brands to handmade items to clear-outs by some of Melbourne's most fashionable women. Entry costs $2, and when you're finding that shiny gold coin to get you in the door, make sure you did up some other cash as well. Cold, hard currency is preferred here, and parting with it will be worth it. Your wardrobe will thank you for it.
Talented pooches have been barking their way to big screen stardom since the birth of the medium, and Cannes Film Festival even gives out awards for ace pupper performances. Now, Australia has a dog-themed cinema showcase. At the Top Dog Film Festival, doggos and puppers cement their status as humanity's favourite movie stars in a touring program of pooch-centric shorts. For two hours, dogs will leap across screens in a curated selection of heartwarming flicks about humanity's best friend. For the last two years, the lineup has included films about dog-powered sports, dogs in space, dogs hiking through the desert, senior dogs and more. The festival hits Melbourne on Wednesday, August 7 for its 2019 outing, with a one-night-only showing at the Astor Theatre respectively. Rushing after tickets the way your best four-legged friend rushes after a frisbee is recommended. Given how much we all love watching dog videos online, not to mention attending pupper-centric shindigs in general, this fest is certain to be popular.
The 90s were great. That shouldn't be a controversial opinion. Whether you lived through them or have spent the last couple of decades wishing you did — aka binging on 90s pop culture — this late-night shindig at Brunswick's Stay Gold will indulge your retro urges. Drinks, tunes, fashion — expect all of the above at the No Scrubs: 90s and Early 00s party from 11pm on Saturday, May 11. Of course, it's up to you to make sure the clothing side of thing is covered, and to get into the spirit of the party. If you want to use Mariah Carey as a style icon, it'd be fitting. Expect to unleash your inner Spice Girl and Backstreet Boy too. TLC, Destiny's Child, Savage Garden, Usher, Blink-182, No Doubt — we'd keep listing artists, but you all know what you're getting yourselves into. Tickets are $12.65 online, with the fun running through until 3am.
What do Michael Keaton, Val Kilmer and George Clooney all have in common? For the period between 1989–1997, under the direction of Tim Burton and then Joel Schmacher, they each donned Bruce Wayne's slick suits by day and Batman's cape by night. Sure, everyone from Adam West to Christian Bale to Ben Affleck has played the Dark Knight, too; however this four-movie Batman series stands out. It's over-the-top, and yet not as campy as the original TV series. It enjoys its time in Gotham City, even if it's not as detailed — or serious — as Christopher Nolan's films. And it has more villains than the current DC Extended Universe. 2019 marks 30 years since Burton's first Keaton-starring Batman flick (and since its ace Prince soundtrack, too), and the Astor is celebrating, naturally. On the menu in one huge all-day anniversary marathon: the highs of the original and Batman Returns, plus the lows — and silliness — of Batman Forever and Batman and Robin. Prepare to get comfy from 1pm on Saturday, May 25, with the films screening in new 4K restorations. And if you love the initial movie but can't make a day of it, it's also screening again solo on May 28 and June 1.
Han Solo famously made the Kessel Run in 12 parsecs, Anakin Skywalker pod-raced his way to freedom and now Australian Star Wars fans can jog their way around a neon-hued galaxy. Even better — Aussie aficionados of George Lucas' space saga can not only run five kilometres through themed zones lit up brighter than a lightsaber, but also enjoy an intergalactic after party at the end of it. As part of 2019's 'May the Fourth' celebrations, Melbourne will welcome the first-ever Aussie Star Wars Neon Run. Yes, it's taking place on the appropriate date of Saturday, May 4, 2019, aka Star Wars day. Once evening hits, a yet-to-be-revealed Melbourne location will feel the force in a big way, and so will everyone choosing to walk, jog or sprint through spaces inspired by the series' stories, characters and icons. You'll be honouring your favourite movie franchise while exercising underneath neon light shows and fireworks, with the specifics — not only where it'll take place, but which figures will pop up, which music act will be playing the gig afterwards, what the interactive areas will entail and how much merchandise will be on offer — yet to be revealed. That said, this event has the official stamp of approval. The Walt Disney Company Australia is behind the Star Wars Neon Run, and given that it's the Aussie arm of the global company that owns, makes and releases all things Star Wars, you can expect the main event village and everything around it to be filled to the brim with appropriate theming. Tickets for this fun run-slash-Star Wars party don't come cheap at $75. If you're gathering the gang, forming a Rebel Alliance — aka running as a team — is welcome. All attendees will receive access to the run, main event village and shenanigans afterwards, plus a race bib, a Star Wars Neon Run headband and a sound-activated flashband as well. If you finish, you'll also receive a limited edition finisher's medal that'll make you the envy of any cantina you walk into. And, unsurprisingly, dressing up in costume is highly recommended. We all want to know whether Rey can beat Princess Leia in a footrace, after all — or whether Chewbacca, R2-D2 or BB-8 is the fastest sidekick.
Last year, Melbourne was named the live music capital of the world — attracting bigger audiences to live gigs than all of the big sporting events combined. Any seasoned Melburnian knows that this rings true, and not only now, but across decades gone by. Indeed, music history has made all over the city. The Melbourne Music Bus Tour takes a trip through this rich heritage, during a two-hour journey hosted by Melbourne musicologist Bruce Milne. Departing from the Australian Music Vault at Arts Centre Melbourne across ten dates between June–October 2019 — and at 11am and 2pm on each date — this vibrant bus ride zooms through the likes of Richmond, Collingwood, St Kilda and Port Melbourne, and stops at a heap of past and previous venues, laneways and places of significance. The Dogs in Space house, the Nylex Clock sign, Mushroom Records, The Espy, Chrissy Amphlett Lane and Rowland S. Howard Lane are really just the beginning. If it inspired a song, featured in a music video or proves an important space for Indigenous music, then it's highly likely that it's on the tour. Previous seasons have sold out, so nab your $69 ticket and prepare to hop on board. Oh, and you might have some famous company, with Deborah Conway, Adalita, Cash Savage, Clare Moore, Paul Stewart, Stephen Cummings, Kim Salmon and Dave Graney among those who've been picked up along the way on past trips.
This year's Oscar winner for best documentary, Free Solo took viewers into the nerve-wracking world of rock climbing, charting Alex Honnold's epic quest to scale Yosemite's El Capitan without ropes. But he's not the only superstar climber endeavouring to literally rise to great heights — and the film about him wasn't the only rock climbing doco to reach the big screen recently. Last year, another movie called The Dawn Wall started doing the rounds, chronicling another couple of daredevils. Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgeson are also considered among the globe's best climbers, and their feats are mighty impressive. Now they're coming to Australia to talk about their efforts. On Saturday, July 20, the duo will take to the stage at the Astor Theatre at 1.30pm and then again at 7pm. The pair will be providing live commentary while The Dawn Wall plays on the big screen, chatting about just why they do what they do, and answering all of your other questions. It's their first time in the country, and they'll talk you through their inspirations, motivations and, again, why they took on the world's hardest rock climb. This goes without saying, especially if you're not fond of heights, but prepare to be both in awe and mighty tense. Image: Brett Lowell. Updated: June 17, 2019.
Between Thursday, June 13 and Tuesday, June 18, Palace Cinemas is giving movie buffs an extra gift. It's not just the gift of great flicks — that is, its daily bread and butter — but the gift of cheap great flicks. Head to one of the chain's six Melbourne locations — Balwyn, Dendy Brighton, Brighton Bay, Cinema Como, Westgarth and The Kino — across the week in question, and any film at any time will only cost you $7.50, plus an online booking fee of $1.50. Want to see Rocketman with your friends on a Saturday night? It'll cost you $9 in total. Keen to laugh your way through last year's Lavazza Italian Film Festival favourite, My Big Gay Italian Wedding, after work one afternoon? Still $9 all up. After another excuse to stare at Chris Hemsworth on the big screen? Go see Men In Black: International for (yup, you guessed it) $9. We'd keep naming movies, but you get the picture. Booking in advance is highly recommended, given how much everyone loves going to the flicks for cheap, so you will want to nab your tickets online here and pay the fee. With the cold well and truly here, seek refuge in any Palace across Melbourne and see some of the hottest movies showing on the big screen this season. Image: Palace Balwyn.
The Pope of Trash is back, he's here to have a lively chat and you won't see anything quite like it this year. We're talking about John Waters, of course, with the cult filmmaker, queer icon and all-round pop culture legend heading to Melbourne for a divine evening of revelatory reflections, eye-opening anecdotes and shameless secrets from a life spent making cinematic trouble. In fact, Make Trouble is the incredibly apt name of his live show. Waters is the rare auteur who doesn't just craft vivid, transgressive, larger-than-life movies such as the notorious Pink Flamingos, big-budget hit Hairspray and black comedy Serial Mom — he's also as lively and fascinating as you'd expect based on his incredibly distinctive filmography. (And, he has a killer pencil-thin moustache.) Expect to dive into his 50-plus years in the business, hear about his time spent working with everyone from Mink Stole and Divine to Kathleen Turner and Patricia Hearst, and get an earful of insights into his opinions about today's chaotic existence. There'll be more topics of conversation, too; if there's one thing that Waters knows about, it's everything. You'll laugh at his gleefully filthy tidbits (in fact, you might even cry from giggling so hard), and you'll also soak up the best kind of devilish yet worldly wisdom, all while spending an evening in the company of a talent like no other. Timed just after the release of his latest (and ninth) book, The Tarnished Wisdom of a Filth Elder, John Waters hits Hamer Hall on Friday, October 18. Tickets go on sale at 9am on Monday, June 17. Image: Prudence Upton.
The shock of unkempt hair, the Irish brogue, the misanthropic attitude: there's no mistaking Dylan Moran for anyone else. It was true in beloved British sitcom Black Books, when his on-screen alter ego abhorred mornings, ate coasters and claimed that his oven could cook anything (even belts). And it's definitely true of the comedian's acerbically hilarious live shows. Moran is no stranger to Australia, but if you haven't guffawed at his bleak wit live, he's coming back late in 2019 to give you another chance. This time around, expect the kind of deadpan gags, wine-soaked insights and blisteringly sharp one-liners that've kept him in the spotlight since 1996, when he became the youngest-ever winner of the Edinburgh Fringe's Perrier Award. From late October to early December, Moran will tour the country with his latest show, Dr Cosmos, bringing his grumpily lyrical musings on love, politics, misery and the everyday absurdities of life to 14 Aussie cities. Coming to Hamer Hall in November, his upcoming visit marks his first Australian trip since 2015, when he was eliciting giggles with his Off the Hook tour. That mammoth effort took in a whopping 149 cities worldwide. As well as his stint as the world's worst bookshop owner in Black Books, Moran has popped up in films such as Notting Hill and Shaun of the Dead, should you been keen to get watching (or rewatching) before his new gigs. Nabbing tickets to his Dr Cosmos ASAP is recommended — the first two shows have already sold out and only tickets for the Monday, November 4 show remain. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3gy3C7cMNeg Image: Andy Hollingworth.
If you're a fan of chicken wings, then you might already have July 29 marked in your calendar. It's your annual excuse to tuck into plenty of chook, because that's what National Chicken Wing Day is all about. At Rockpool Dining Group's various German-themed venues — aka Munich Brauhaus and The Bavarian — you won't just find a whole heap of chicken, however. Wings will also be on special all day for just ten cents each. You can nab up to 20 at a time for just $2, although you will also need to buy a full-priced drink. If you fancy more than 20, that's fine — you'll just need to get more drinks, which we're sure no one will be complaining about. All wings come with buffalo sauce, but if you're keen on ramping up the heat, you can also take part in the Hot Wing Ghost Chilli Eating Challenge. Those wings will be smothered in cayenne, habanero and ghost pepper, and if you can eat more than anyone else in a minute, you'll receive a $100 voucher. Ten-cent wings are available at all Melbourne outposts of Munich Brauhaus and the Bavarian.
Never one to embrace cliches as an actor or director, Ralph Fiennes avoids the obvious with his latest film. While The White Crow tells the involving tale of Rudolf Nureyev, the biopic doesn't quite dance across the screen. Although it features exceptional sequences of real-life dancer and first-time actor Oleg Ivenko as the Russian ballet great, it doesn't ever let its subject's distinctive talents do the heavy lifting, or explain them away as a product of his difficult existence. There's still a flow and a rhythm to the movie, yet it's never exactly fluid. The film doesn't deny that Nureyev and his skills were influenced by the world around him, or ignore the struggles it caused him, but it doesn't simply connect the clear-cut dots either. All of this is by design, with The White Crow as restless as its central figure. The dancer couldn't ever really be pinned down, so Fiennes daren't waste his third stint behind the camera trying to achieve the impossible. Rather, as he once again highlights a complicated and conflicted man (as he did with Roman general Coriolanus in his adaption of Shakespeare's tragedy of the same name, and then writer Charles Dickens in The Invisible Woman), Fiennes builds his portrait of Nureyev by watching. The White Crow still spins a story, of course, primarily exploring the 1961 defection from the Soviet Union that'll forever remain synonymous with the ballet dancer. However, the movie particularly revels in gaining its sense of Nureyev through more than biographical data. It's clear that such an approach is behind the film's lead casting, specifically Fiennes' choice of a dancer over an actor. In the expressive yet internalised Ivenko, the picture gains a performer accustomed to conveying everything that transcends words, and one who demands an audience's attention with a fierce gaze and unwavering physicality. Making the leap from the Tatar State Academic Opera and Ballet Theatre in Kazan to portraying Russia's 'lord of the dance', Ivenko plays Nureyev as determined and dedicated — to his art and to himself. In Rudi's mind, they're both one and the same. Born aboard the Trans-Siberian Express in 1938, he emerges from a bleak childhood to find solace at a St Petersburg dance academy. Under the tutelage of mentor Alexander Pushkin (Fiennes), he's moulded by discipline and structure, though he rankles against the corresponding rules and surveillance. Then, on a visit to Europe while with the Kirov Ballet, Nureyev realises that his art and self will never thrive in his homeland. Parisian lights, sights and parties beckon, as do friendships with French dancer Pierre Lacotte (Raphaël Personnaz) and Chilean-French heiress Clara Saint (Adèle Exarchopoulos). Next comes his decision to flee to the west. Amidst handsomely shot frames, Fiennes tasks Ivenko with a responsibility placed upon all soloists, asking him to be one of the guiding lights without completely carrying the entire production. Despite his on-screen inexperience, the Ukrainian is certainly capable of the latter, but that's not what a ballet recital or a movie is about. And so, his co-stars add texture and detail around his central role, with Fiennes unsurprisingly the standout supporting player in a solely Russian-speaking part. Another real-life dancer, controversial superstar Sergei Polunin, acquits himself well as fellow Kirov troupe member Yuri Soloviev, whose prowess helps spur Rudi to push his own limits. From its defection focus, to its observational feel, to its solid performances, The White Crow boasts much that elevates it beyond the tried-and-tested biopic format. Alas, even though David Hare's script doesn't relay its narrative in a linear fashion, the film is far less engaging when it gets overly bogged down in the minutiae of the Cold War-era story — which can veer towards the routine, even for viewers unfamiliar with Nureyev's entire history. The same can be said of the movie's overt thematic nods, including unnecessary visual reminders of the freedom that's abundant abroad but absent under Soviet rule. That's all too straightforward, which Nureyev definitely wasn't. Although no single scene, on-stage or not, can wholly capture his essence, the ballet legend is better served by The White Crow's contemplative moments; as the title intimates, drawing from a Russian idiom, he's an outsider through and through. Accordingly, when he's seen staring intently at Géricault's painting The Raft of the Medusa and Rembrandt's The Prodigal Son at the Louvre, agonising over their detail and finding an unexpected creative connection in a different type of art, that's when Nureyev's spirit truly leaps off the screen. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v8M2n8YGFus
If you're going to treat yo'self to some high-flying fare like lobster, you might as well go all out, right? Well, for a few short days this month, Emporium Melbourne's luxe seafood pop-up Pinchy's is dialling up the indulgence levels with a decadent new addition: Australia's biggest lobster roll. A super-sized version of Pinchy's signature Maine to Melbourne lobster roll will be added to the menu from August 5 to 11, rocking three times as much crustacean as the original, stuffed into a foot-long bun. But if you want to get your mitts on one, you'll have to be quick – the store's only whipping up 300 of these monsters each day and come the end of August 11, who knows when you'll ever see one again? The hefty seafood roll usually clocks in at $35, though you can nab one for just $29.50 if you're following Pinchy's on Instagram and flash staff some proof. And as always, Pinchy's is pouring a tidy range of Champagne to help round out your bougie feast in style.
Wine and cheese is old news, folks. Craft beer and buttery pastries is the food pairing you really need in your life, and Thornbury's Carwyn Cellars is more than happy to deliver. This month, the Thornbury beer bar will celebrate this heavenly match, as it transforms itself into the 24-Hour Carwyn Bakery. From 12am on the morning of Saturday, August 17, right through until 12am the following day, the bar will be slinging a rotating list of 20 of the world's finest pastry-inspired brews. And to match, you'll find limited-edition sweet treats from eight of Melbourne's best-loved bakeries and pastry maestros, each designed to be paired with a specific beer. In the brewery corner, expect dessert-style delights from the likes of USA's Evil Twin Brewing, Swedish star Omnipollo, Thornbury's own 3 Ravens and Uiltje from The Netherlands. Kiwi legends Garage Project are even airfreighting in an exclusive keg of their Super Deluxe: a bold 12.5%-barrel aged imperial stout infused with bourbon-soaked bananas. Meanwhile, local bakeries including Lune Croissanterie, Eat Cannoli, Rustica and Little Bertha will be showing off their skills in the pastry department. Entry to most of the shindig is free, though the hallowed session from midnight to 9am on the Saturday morning is ticketed at $100 a head, which'll get you eight different beer and pastry pairings. Pop in anytime after that to order as you like from the beer list and pastry menu — there'll also be savoury pastries from Northcote Bakeshop and plenty of cold-brew coffee on tap. 24-Hour Carwyn Bakery runs from midnight–midnight.
It has been a couple of years since The Jungle Collective first started taking over Australian warehouses and slinging plenty of plants, all thanks to its huge sales in Melbourne, Brisbane and Sydney. These leafy excuses to fill your home with greenery always have a bit of a celebratory vibe, and they just keep coming, with the outfit's next Melbourne outing happening across the weekend of Saturday, November 16 and Sunday, November 17. Gorgeous green babies are the main attraction — and more than 150 varieties of them, too. You'll pick up everything from fiddle leafs and monsteras to giant birds of paradise and rubber trees, as well as oh-so-many ferns and hanging plants. You'll also be able to shop for designer pots, get expert advice from the horticulturalists onsite and receive $5 off your purchase if you wear a Hawaiian shirt. It's all happening at 10balcombe at 10 Balcombe Road, Mentone, with sessions held at 8am, 10am, 12pm and 2pm on Saturday, plus 10am and 12pm on Sunday.
Over the past two decades, Federation Square has been home to many things — underground restaurants, controversies about its redevelopment, films on its big screen, free snags, oh-so-many flocks of birds and more. But, on Saturday, September 21, it'll welcome something that Melburnians haven't seen in the sprawling public space to date: the Bat-Signal. With 2019 marking a whopping 80 years since Batman first burst onto the comic book scene, and the second-last Saturday in September being dubbed International Batman Day, Warner Bros and DC are celebrating, naturally. And they're doing so by unleashing the caped crusader's luminous symbol on the Australian Centre for the Moving Image (ACMI). The Bat-Signal dates back 77 years, has graced plenty of printed pages and many a Batman movie, and will now brighten up this slice of inner-city Melbourne. If you're a Bat-fan, consider it your own call to arms. Melbourne will be just one of many cities around globe — including Paris, LA and Hong Kong — where the Bat-Signal will light up buildings and skies. Batman aficionados are also welcome to don their best Bat-outfits and truly pretend they're in Gotham City. Attendees will be able to take photos, of course, and even meet Batman, too. No, you won't be shaking hands with the late Adam West, or with Michael Keaton, Val Kilmer, George Clooney, Christian Bale, Ben Affleck or Robert Pattinson; however, the Dark Knight has always transcended the person behind the suit. Head along at 8pm for the Bat-shenanigans, with the Bat-Signal beaming away at exactly 8.08pm. Keep an eye on the Batman 80th Anniversary website for more Bat-fun as well. UPDATE, SEPTEMBER 18: This event was previously scheduled to kick off at 6.45pm, but organisers have changed the start time to 8pm. This article has been updated accordingly.
Mindfulness practice — achieving the mental state of focusing on the present moment — is gaining popularity as people attempt to regulate their stressful lives. People have turned to everything from meditation to colouring books to achieve mindfulness, but perhaps few people would think of doing a triathlon to achieve inner peace. Take three activities that promote mindfulness — specifically running, yoga and meditation — and you've got yourself a 'mindful triathlon'. Wanderlust 108 has been running these triathlon festivals since 2014, and the standard day has a few main components. First, there's the five kilometre run, although the site reassures you that you can walk instead of running — or even "prance, skip, stroll or strut" — as long as you reach the finish line. After that, theres 75 minutes of yoga accompanied by a DJ set, and finally 25 minutes of meditation to round out the whole-group activities. Once the structured section of the day has wrapped up, participants can also head to activities such as aerial yoga, acroyoga and hooping, or to lunch. Returning to Melbourne on Saturday, November 9, it's part exercise, part dance party, part fest — and 100-percent focused on helping attendees feel great inside and out. Also on the agenda: workshops and markets, with the latter helping you take your new blissed-out state home with you afterwards.
UPDATE, April 1, 2021: The Wild Goose Lake is available to stream via Binge, Amazon Prime Video, Stan, Foxtel Now, Google Play and YouTube Movies. If you only watch one sultry, sprawling, neon-lit Chinese film noir this year — one where umbrellas are deployed as lethal weapons, zoo animals bear witness to a shootout and strangers dance in the street in glowing sneakers to Boney M's 'Rasputin' — make it The Wild Goose Lake. To be fair, no other feature will match that exact description anytime soon. No other movie will make a routine police search of a half-demolished building look like a real-world diorama, either, or watch as a character turns the tricky art of self-bandaging into an acrobatic performance. From its yellow-tinted opening frames, where two strangers meet outside a train station in drizzling rain, Diao Yinan's first film since 2014's acclaimed Black Coal, Thin Ice firmly carves its own visual niche. That's one of the evocatively shot gangster flick's charms. Spread across speedy motorcycle chases and frenetic underground brawls, too, these eye-catching images all tell the story of mob heavy Zhou Zenong (Hu Ge) and 'bathing beauty' Liu Aiai (Gwei Lun-mei). Following a mass underworld meetup to discuss stealing techniques, an impromptu contest dubbed "the Olympic Games of thievery" and the accidental shooting of a cop, he's on the run in the titular area. Both the law and fellow criminals are on his trail, and a ¥300,000 bounty is on his head. She's been dispatched as Zhou's escort by her gang-affiliated boss Huahua (Qi Dao) — and although she's just supposed to deliver messages and take the fleeing gangster where he needs to go, Liu is also a sex worker who plies her trade by the water. In flashbacks, the movie fleshes out their intertwined tales, including why Liu is the one meeting Zhou instead of his estranged wife Yang Shujun (Wan Qian). Visually, The Wild Goose Lake leaves a continued imprint; however there's a boilerplate flavour to Diao's script. After Black Coal, Thin Ice — another stylish, crime-filled neo-noir brimming with complex motives and ample duplicity — it almost seems like the filmmaker is painting by numbers in a narrative sense. He's certainly playing in a well-populated field, with no shortage of high-profile Chinese releases delving into the country's seedy underbelly of late (as seen in Jia Zhangke's Ash is Purest White and Bi Gan's Long Day's Journey Into Night). And yet, as recognisable as much of The Wild Goose Lake's story appears, it never feels like it's sending viewers on either a routine journey or a wild goose chase. Rather, that air of familiarity ripples with purpose and meaning. Indeed, the fact that these kinds of Chinese tales keep popping up and using the nation's unseemly side as a way of tackling societal uncertainty, restlessness and change makes a clear statement. Diao isn't yelling his views at anyone, though, or even conveying as strong a message about the state of his country as he did with his last film. Largely, he uses his narrative as the connective tissue that holds his stunning visuals together. If the writer/director and his returning cinematographer Dong Jinsong had planned out each strikingly shot and choreographed set-piece, then built a story around them, it wouldn't come as a surprise. The Wild Goose Lake is far more textured than a movie made in such a way ever could be, but its imagery is still the undoubted star of the show. If Nicolas Winding Refn was to splash his usual creative trademarks across a China-set gangster flick as a companion piece to the Los Angeles-based Drive and the Bangkok-set Only God Forgives, the end result wouldn't look as inky yet inescapably luminous as Diao's darkly gorgeous piece of cinema. With such alluring pictures flickering across the screen — including so many vivid amber and pink lights casting shadows across murky alleyways and rooms that the overall look should get repetitive, but doesn't — it's no wonder that Diao paces the film patiently. He gives audiences plenty of chances to soak in The Wild Goose Lake's sights, naturally. In taking his time to unfurl the feature's tale, he also conveys an apt sense of inertia as Zhou runs, Liu follows, both the cops and other crims try to track their every move, but no one ever really goes anywhere. And, in the process, he fittingly tasks his cast with giving quiet yet still expressive performances. This is the type of movie where, when dialogue is uttered, it usually says less far less than a look, a gesture or an actor's posture. Viewers don't get to know the film's characters as deeply as we could've, but it's still a very canny approach — with a feature this arresting, the audience is luxuriating in every inch of every frame from start to finish. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpmpD3-CBqg
UPDATE: June 24, 2020: Pain and Glory is available to stream via Google Play and YouTube — and, from Friday, June 26, from Amazon Prime Video. Perhaps it's the brightness, with each splash of colour feeling like it comes straight from the heart. Maybe it's the array of familiar faces that fill his frames, as though he's building a cinematic world populated by his favourite people. Or, it could be his sensitive yet vivid way of seeing the world, and the expressive images that arise as a result. Whether one, two or all of the above are responsible, a film by Pedro Almodovar usually proves a highly personal affair — although there may be no more intimate a movie on his four-decade resume than Pain and Glory. Enlisting one of his go-to stars, Antonio Banderas, to play his on-screen surrogate, this rich and reflective drama follows a filmmaker aching with unhappiness, trawling through his memories and being haunted by his inertia. In a way, Pain and Glory is the Inception of Almodovar films. An acclaimed director steps into his own history by making a movie about a famous director doing just that, with both real and fictional helmers reuniting with an actor who's shaped their career. In Almodovar's case, that should be actors. Banderas leads the show, while Penelope Cruz, the other great Spanish talent that came to fame under the filmmaker's 90s-era gaze, appears in flashbacks as the protagonist's mother. This casting, and the fact that Banderas has been styled to look like Almodovar, is crucial. The actor even wears some of the writer/director's own clothes, and his character lives in a recreation of Almodovar's home. Although Pain and Glory isn't the filmmaker's first movie to include personal elements, he purposefully draws parallels between fact and fiction here — grappling with the idea of revealing a piece of himself with each work, something all artists do, in a wholehearted manner. Salvador Mallo (Banderas) also ponders the same notion. His glory years seemingly behind him, he thinks his days of leaving a bit of himself in each movie are long gone as well. Fans still clamour for his work, as an anniversary screening of his breakout hit shows, but his focus is elsewhere. Mainly, he's consumed by pain from various ailments. When his former star Alberto (Asier Etxeandia) re-enters his life and introduces him to heroin, he becomes preoccupied with glimpses of his childhood that swirl through his mind. Still, Mallo has been working on an autobiographical text — and when he reluctantly lets Alberto turn its contents, including his 80s affair with his great love Federico (Leonardo Sbaraglia), into a one-man theatre show, the experience is revelatory. There's a quiet, thorny and tender core to Mallo's plight but, as the likes of All About My Mother, Volver and Julieta have shown, Almodovar operates in sumptuous, sweeping mode. Far from struggling with the contrast, Pain and Glory is equally restrained and resonant, making exceptional use of its softer and livelier moments alike. So too does this year's Cannes Best Actor award-winner Banderas. Across his layered, multi-decade filmography spanning both Spanish and Hollywood cinema, he's never been better. Indeed, he's the best he's been since following Almodovar into completely different territory his last great performance in 2011's The Skin I Live In. Understated, introspective, gentle and melancholic, rather than the vastly more overt characters he has often played for the director, Banderas frequently conveys all of Mallo's hurts, anxieties and fears without saying a word. It's little wonder that cinematographer José Luis Alcaine (a veteran of Almodovar's work for decades, too) can't find anything as interesting to stare at as Banderas. The actor is a moving canvas within the film's broader frame and, every time you peer his way, the picture changes to something just as astonishing. Unsurprisingly, Cruz comes close to matching him. As the feisty mother to a pre-teen Mallo (Asier Flores) in the 60s, she lights up the screen the way that she lit up the boy's formative years. Her scenes are wistful by design, as you'd expect when an ageing man escapes into his head to take stock of his life. That said, few filmmakers can so seamlessly integrate the ghosts of the past with the woes of the present as Almodovar. Perhaps his genius stems from the reality that, amid the evocative colour and movement, Almodovar is unafraid to glare at hard truths while he's opening up his heart. If only we could all sift through our lives, losses, needs and desires as meticulously and beautifully as the Spanish auteur. Heaving with emotion, his Pain and Glory is a movie to get lost in — and, as anyone who's ever faced their own crossroads or confronted their mortality can attest, it's also a film of sublime and unwavering honesty. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJEDh4ikcWA
Pitting Will Smith against himself, Gemini Man is designed to boggle the mind. Viewers are supposed to stare at the big screen in awe as the former Fresh Prince not only plays a supremely skilled 51-year-old assassin, but — through the wonders of seamless de-ageing CGI — also plays his 23-year-old clone. We're also meant to marvel at the 3D visuals that surround the two Smiths as they go head-to-head, with the movie shot on digital in 4K resolution at 120 frames per second. Technical jargon aside, that means Gemini Man is super-crisp thanks to its vastly increased number of pixels, and it boasts five times the usual images each second, with the camera picking up five times the visible detail as a result. Sadly, while Ang Lee loves to keep pushing the filmmaking boundaries, especially in a technical sense, he completely misses his target with Gemini Man. It doesn't come close to eliciting the same wonder that Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon's astonishing martial arts choreography inspired, or the dropped jaws sparked by his immersive adaptation of Life of Pi either. Instead, in Lee's second successive attempt to make a watchable high frame-rate flick (after 2016's Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk), this espionage thriller has the bland appearance of a TV soap opera. At its worst, it resembles absolutely anything screening on television with the motion-smoothing settings left on (aka the default viewing mode on modern screens that Tom Cruise famously asked viewers to switch off when watching Mission: Impossible - Fallout at home). Stacks of cash have been splashed on the most advanced special effects available — techniques that are being hailed as the future of cinema — but the end product really couldn't look cheaper or uglier. In a movie that basically only exists to showcase its apparently cutting-edge hyper-realistic imagery, Gemini Man's visual blah factor has an enormous impact. Lee clearly hopes his high-tech frames will patch over the generic narrative, but they actually emphasise the film's routine flavour. Penned by David Benioff (Game of Thrones), Billy Ray (Overlord) and Darren Lemke (Shazam!), this by-the-numbers affair follows seasoned government-sanctioned sharp-shooter Henry Brogan (Smith) as he packs it all in after a tricky assignment. As soon as he trades in his weapons for retirement, he's tracked down by his youthful doppelgänger (also Smith). A rogue intelligence agency head honcho (Clive Owen) is behind it all; however, as we probably don't need to point out, he isn't the toughest adversary that Brogan must face. Throw in Mary Elizabeth Winstead as another agent caught up in the chaos, plus Benedict Wong as a kindly pilot helping Brogan hop around the globe, and Gemini Man sits somewhere between every Bourne flick and every 90s action movie involving duplicity and double-crossing. Plot-wise, it truly is that standard; no-budget straight-to-VHS stinkers have demonstrated more narrative ingenuity. A boilerplate story told well can still keep viewers engrossed, though, especially in this genre (see: the excellent John Wick films), but that's not the case here. While cheesy, inane dialogue that spells out every twist is unfortunate enough, the fact that Gemini Man looks like someone has simply used their iPhone to film two Will Smiths who happen to be standing in front of them is grating, disconcerting and distracting. That it also looks like it could be a sequel to Tommy Wiseau's The Room — well, that comparison obviously says plenty. It's one thing to feel like you could reach out and touch whichever Smith you prefer (the elder Smith deserves that honour, with the actor more comfortable acting his age than chasing his younger glory days). It's another to get bombarded with so much visual data that nothing stands out, including Smith and his digital recreation. In the pursuit of hyper-clarity, Gemini Man lacks anything that resembles movie magic — and while that means there's no blurring or chaotic editing in the film's chase and fight scenes, which are both staged and shot with fluidity, it's all just dull rather than spectacular. You won't sit there wondering "how did they do that?", but rather "why did they do that?". And if you're not getting jiggy with Gemini Man's imagery, then you're not getting jiggy with this empty experiment in stretching the limits of cinema to a place that no one really wants it to go. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ykm0wWnzFY8
It's easy to understand why Bart Freundlich, filmmaker and husband of Julianne Moore, decided to remake After the Wedding. A best foreign-language Oscar nominee in 2006, the original Danish feature is a thorny melodrama that's big on moral dilemmas, but even bigger on revelatory moments and performances — and gender-swapping the main characters, shifting the action to America and giving Moore a lead role was clearly too juicy an opportunity to pass up. So was casting his wife opposite Michelle Williams, another actor who can play steely and fragile in the same breath, excels at portraying complex, realistic women, and manages all of the above with the utmost subtlety. Indeed, if any uncertainty hovers over Freundlich's movie, it isn't "why?", but "why didn't it happen sooner?". Perhaps the answer to the second query resides in After the Wedding's narrative, which acts like a Rorschach test for audiences. Some will see splotches of #firstworldproblems connected through convenient, even implausible twists. Others will notice how the film stresses the enormous chasm between the needy and the rich, refuses to trade in simplicity, and has meticulously calculated each and every plot development. Of course, both perspectives can prove accurate at once. A movie can seem neat, chaotic, overly structured and random in tandem, because life almost always does the same thing. Leaning into these contradictions actually deepens After the Wedding — as its conflicted characters are forced to navigate testing circumstances, Freundlich's film never even thinks of settling into a safe, cosy niche. Location-wise, though, the opposite is true. After the Wedding is largely set in a privileged world, spending the bulk of its time in New York penthouses, offices and country estates. The film introduces Isobel (Williams) while she's meditating at the Kolkata orphanage she helps run, then whisks her across the globe to secure funding from business high-flyer Theresa (Moore) — and makes a point of stressing how uncomfortable Isobel is with the change of environment. That's the first major upheaval that pushes Williams' calm yet flinty character out of her comfort zone. When Moore's brittle hotshot demands that Isobel extends her trip and, even though they've just met, also insists that she attends her daughter's upcoming wedding, additional surprises follow. It's impossible to delve further into the plot without giving too much away; however Isobel is hardly thrilled when she meets Theresa's sculptor husband Oscar (Billy Crudup), or takes a proper look at Grace (Abby Quinn), the blushing bride. The best moral dilemmas double as mysteries, inspiring a series of questions. How will the intricate plot pieces fit together? How will the various players respond? How will tussling with a life-altering scenario change everyone involved? After dropping the first big revelation early — his film is called After the Wedding, after all — Freundlich keeps the complications coming thick and fast, but takes time to revel in Isobel, Theresa, Oscar and Grace's reactions. That's the nuts and bolts of the movie, as relayed in heated altercations, awkward exchanges, pensive moments, and big breakthrough scenes that push Isabel and Theresa to their limits. Naturally, Williams and Moore couldn't be better; fresh from stellar work in Fosse/Verdon and Gloria Bell, respectively, that's why the reliably excellent duo was cast. Without them, After the Wedding might've felt soapy, especially after discarding its predecessor's jittery camerawork for conspicuously smooth and gleaming visuals, but that's never the outcome. When a story loves thrashing in as many different directions as this one, it takes particularly textured and nuanced performances to hammer home its tender core, which is what Williams and Moore continually bring to the table. Elsewhere, Crudup is understated but underused in support, while Quinn holds her own with the film's high-profile leading ladies — and that's no mean feat. The elephant in the room? It's the place where elephants are far more common, with Isabel's life in India — and her bond to eight-year-old Jai (Vir Pachisia), the abandoned boy she's become a replacement mother to — never fading from view. Still, while she's desperate to return and keep making a difference, hers is never a clumsy white saviour tale. This part of the story is noticeably blunt, as are the film's other attempts to address class differences (as Isabel rattles off stats about child prostitution to Theresa, they're interrupted by a catering snafu over a lack of lobster, for example), yet the instinct to grapple with one's issues by helping others rings true. Perhaps surprisingly given how many twists it strings together, After the Wedding proves affecting and engrossing in general for the same reason: no matter what the film throws at the screen, its heaving emotional landscape always feels devastatingly real.
Hey boy, hey girl — we've got some news. Pioneering electronic music duo The Chemical Brothers is heading Down Under — for their first Aussie tour in six years. Off the back of dropping their ninth studio album No Geography earlier this year, the pair are taking a new live show (also called No Geography) around the world. Stops include the UK, US and Mexico — and, luckily, also Australia. If you've been lucky enough to catch The Chemical Brothers live before, you'll know their shows aren't your average stand-behind-the-decks-and-play performances. They feature strobe lights, lasers and mind-bending images projected onto huge screens. It's sort of like a trip, without the LSD. If you haven't seen one before, take a peek at one of the psychedelic shows below. As well as new hits off the new No Geography album, including 'Free Yourself' and 'MAH', we're hoping the duo will add some throwbacks to its live performances — the late-90s and early-2000s hits 'Hey Boy, Hey Girl' and 'Galvanize' would be particularly welcome. As an added bonus, the duo will be touring the country with a big-name local: The Avalanches. The Melbourne-born electro group will be playing a live DJ set at all The Chemical Brothers' shows. If you don't know them, you'll definitely know their song 'Since I Left You'. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tri7gjlmfdk
As gin lovers may (or maybe don't) remember, the last two Christmases brought us the first couple ofFour Pillars Christmas (Gin) Revues. For one giddy night, Four Pillars aficionados — and newbies — drank in the festive season with an extravaganza of gin-inspired madness, from comedy, dancing and sing-alongs to gin tastings, cocktails and canapés. Well, folks, it's back for a third round. Taking over The Espy's Gershwin Room in St Kilda on Wednesday, December 4, the Four Pillars Christmas (Gin) Revue 2019 will feature Maeve Marsden and Liz Wood, the duo behind gin cabaret Mother's Ruin. Four Pillars' own Stu and Cam will also hit the stage, with their shenanigans spanning slapstick, power ballads and gin nerd-ism. In between soaking up the action, you'll be sipping on Four Pillars' finest gins of 2019, transformed into cocktails by master mixologist Jimmy Irvine, and feasting on canapés. Your $250 ticket also includes a doggy bag, packed with a 700mL bottle of the 2019 Australian Christmas Gin, a jar of marmalade, a set of cocktail books, Four Pillars' new gin relish and more.
Usually when the band room is spinning, it means you've smashed a few too many tinnies and are probably feeling a little queasy. But Melbourne Music Week is serving up a much more palatable spin on the concept, transforming the Melbourne Star Observation Wheel into a windmill of floating gigs on Friday, November 15. In keeping with the festival's signature move of creating live music venues out of unexpected spaces, Melbourne Star's Musical Menagerie will see the structure's rotating cabins each play host to a performance by a different MMW artist or act. Guests are in for a musical lucky dip of sorts, with the night's genre-diverse program featuring everything from rap, to soul jazz. Your ticket will score you a complimentary drink and entry to a randomly chosen cabin — so who knows what style of aural delights await you up there. The fun continues pre- and post-flight, with more tunes and a MMW pop-up bar in the Melbourne Star Departure Lounge.
Among the array of difficult decisions that shape each and every movie, structure — that is, how directors and screenwriters choose to order and relay their on-screen stories — ranks among the most pivotal. Many filmmakers prefer the scaffolding of their films to remain invisible, so their features flow seamlessly from beginning to middle to end without anyone noticing the wheels turning, and that's perfectly fine. Indeed, it suits plenty of cinematic tales. But when someone like acclaimed French auteur François Ozon calls attention to exactly how he's organising and doling out his narrative, he does so with a definite purpose. Actually, in his latest drama By the Grace of God, he does so to make a statement. This Berlinale Silver Bear-winner explores sexual abuse in the Catholic Church, diving into its tough subject matter by not only charting the paths of three men who were all molested by the same priest as children, but by dedicating roughly a third of its running time to each of them. This move, made by Ozon as both a writer and director, is also equally sensible and natural. By the Grace of God meets its trio of protagonists as adults, as lawyer Alexandre Guérin (Melvil Poupaud), then atheist François Debord (Denis Ménochet), and then the younger and more visibly troubled Emmanuel Thomassin (Swann Arlaud) all face their ordeals decades earlier at the hands of Father Preynat (Bernard Verley). When Alexandre, who remains a church-goer and now has his own young children, discovers that the Lyon priest is still allowed to work with kids, he makes a complaint to Cardinal Philippe Barbarin (François Marthouret). Later, Police Chief Courteau (Frédéric Pierrot) begins investigating as well. Slowly, both François and Emmanuel are drawn into these enquires, with the narrative shifting its focus accordingly. Although there's no literal baton-passing, that's the overall effect. By arranging the movie in this fashion, Ozon gives himself the space to tell three very distinctive (yet still related) stories. As is to be expected, Alexandre, François and Emmanuel's shared traumatic childhood experiences have affected them in completely different ways, and conveying this is crucial. Beyond that, however — and perhaps more importantly than that — Ozon's tripartite structure shows how something this insidious and atrocious causes ripples that don't ever end. Reflecting the reality of such cases, By the Grace of God could've included five, ten or vastly more main characters, relaying the torch from one to the other. As the news keep reminding us, tales like these aren't fictional or isolated. Ultimately, the film hones in on just three men and their encounters with one priest, but it wholeheartedly highlights the devastating scope of sexual abuse in religious institutions, both in terms of the number of victims and the unshakeable pain that follows them throughout their lives. The details at the centre of By the Grace of God are, as with excellent Best Picture Oscar winner Spotlight, actually based on truth. Here, the film's ripped-from-the-headlines storyline caused two of the figures portrayed within its frames take legal action to — unsuccessfully — attempt to block its release. While he's known for working in fiction across everything from the comedy (In the House) to psychosexual thriller (Double Lover) genres, Ozon reportedly originally considered turning this story into a documentary. Sticking with an appropriately beige-hued drama instead, he more than does it justice. This is a sensitive and sobering picture, with Ozon in a far more restrained mode than evidenced in previous efforts such as Swimming Pool and Young & Beautiful. The use of letters read via voice-over to provide viewers with swathes of information doesn't always work as well as intended, but that By the Grace of God sparks a wealth of anger, dismay and empathy while watching should surprise no one — nor that it does so in a measured and careful manner. It seems a sad fact of life that, in most corners of the world, movies like this are always going to be topical and timely. In Australia, in a year that's seen a landmark case taken through Victoria's courts, the film lands at a particularly significant moment. As a result, it's fitting that Ozon's thoughtful feature apes a fundamental tenet of legal action in such heartbreaking circumstances. By telling this tale, it gives victims a voice. Poupaud, Ménochet and Arlaud are each superb as men forever changed by their tainted youth — Poupaud in a grounded way, Ménochet playing lively and impassioned (and proving worlds away from his menacing turn in last year's Custody), and Arlaud serving up a simply haunting performance. By virtue of its savvy structure, By the Grace of God pushes this top trio and their real-life characters to the fore, ensuring that the consequences of letting abuse get swept under the pulpit are not just on display for all to see, but are thoroughly inescapable. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-kwXK-SS3U
UPDATE, January 5, 2021: Martha: A Picture Story is available to stream via Amazon Prime Video, Google Play, YouTube Movies and iTunes. Is Martha Cooper the Bill Cunningham of the street art world? That's a big call, we know, but as Martha: A Picture Story shows, it's accurate. What he did for New York street style — immortalising it with obsessive devotion and sharing it with the world — she did for graffiti. And she's still doing so, there and around the world. That dedication has made an impact. Street art was considered a scourge when the Maryland-born Cooper moved to the Big Apple to chase her shutterbug dreams, but, as she traversed the five boroughs taking pics for the New York Post in the 70s, she was drawn to NY's colourful, creative murals. And so she filled reels of film with images, got to know the scene's major players and chased tag-covered trains all over town. As Martha: A Picture Story also documents, her efforts helped shape the medium. Before Banksy became a graffiti phenomenon, Cooper's was the name on every artist's lips. Thanks to her 1984 book Subway Art, co-authored with fellow photographer Henry Chalfant, Cooper gave street art a how-to guide. It initially sold poorly, but made its way through the scene via black-and-white photocopies that were passed around and coloured-in by hand by aspiring taggers. Now, 35 years later, she's considered a rock star due to the seminal text. Brazil's Os Gemeos (twin brothers Gustavo and Otavio Pandolfo) are famous in their own right, but they buzz with excitement when they mention Subway Art. As seen in this Selina Miles-helmed documentary, Cooper's recent book signings — where fans flock for her signature — paint a similar picture. Making her full-length debut, Australian director Miles has found the holy grail of factual filmmaking: a subject with a lengthy and captivating history, in a field with broad appeal, who hasn't been given their due by the wider world. As an overview of Martha: A Picture Story, that's too cynical, though; nothing about this film, its exploration of Cooper's career and influence, and its loving showcase of her photos is anything but authentic. Cooper herself invites genuine fascination and wonder. Her no-nonsense attitude and her evident enthusiasm are contagious, and Miles willingly catches that disease. This is a crowd-pleasing doco, winning the audience award at this year's Sydney Film Festival — but it inspires wide smiles and warm feelings solely because Cooper's pics are so exceptional, her passion so palpable and her impact so immense. Indeed, if a documentary about the now-septuagenarian didn't cause this reaction, it wouldn't be doing its job. Cooper's entrance into the film couldn't underscore the above point better. It's 2018, she's in Germany, and she's eager to snap photos of the 1UP crew in action. Carrying her gear on her back, she follows them into the night as they tag their way around an unnamed city — including in subway stations and by sneaking into train yards. Shot on the ground in a suitably shaky style, these sections of Martha: A Picture Story feel vivid and alive. Clearly, that's how doing her job makes Cooper feel, too. As the film begins to step through the photojournalist's past in a more traditional then-to-now format, these opening scenes mirror events that come later in the doco but occurred earlier, when Cooper did the same in NY with its street art bigwigs of four decades ago. Threading together its absorbing chronicle, Martha: A Picture Story keeps finding riveting details to fill its frames, such as Cooper's early quest to work for National Geographic, her globe-trotting efforts to try to make that a reality and her book on Japanese tattooing. The photographer's tale is also intertwined with both gender and class politics, which gives it added significance — she was the first female intern at Nat Geo, she notes, and she's well aware that she has spent years giving visibility to art, neighbourhoods and people that many would rather overlook. It's an informative and engaging delight to hear Cooper reflect on her experiences, and to listen to her friends, relatives, colleagues and admirers relay their parts of the story. But, in a doco like this, the old adage about a picture being worth a thousand words was always going to ring true. Martha: A Picture Story features home-video footage and personal photographs collected over the years, taking viewers through the various stages of Cooper's existence. When it lets the photographer's own snaps take centre stage, however, it makes the case for her greatness one image at a time. Whether she's documenting graffiti on both a broad and intimate scale, focusing on NY children and their makeshift toys, or turning her lens towards the reality of the Baltimore streets, where she grew up, she trades in candid portraits of life, art and personal expression. And, as only the very best pics do, they beam their glory and importance for everyone to witness. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IOMUHQEYsBQ
There's no time quite like the festive season for sparking creative, sweet-toothed collaborations, and the latest is sure to have both cake lovers and gelato fans in a tizz. Pidapipo Gelateria has joined forces with organic chocolatiers Hunted + Gathered to dream up a new limited-edition yuletide treat: the Christmas Cherry Bomb Cake. And if you're speedy, you can try it for free. The duo's seasonal creation features a cake base crafted from 70 percent Dominican Republic dark chocolate, topped with layers of two new Pidapipo flavours: a candied fruit and nut panforte gelato and a tangy cherry sorbetto. It's finished with Italian meringue and white chocolate, and a riot of pine sprigs, glacé cherries and silver leaf. It's hefty enough to serve six to eight people. The Cherry Bomb is set to make its debut at Pidapipo's Carlton gelateria on Monday, December 2 with a giveaway. The first ten punters through the door at 5pm will get their own free full-size cake to take home and devour. But even if you're not that punctual, you can score a free scoop of either the cherry sorbetto or the panforte gelato between 5 and 7pm. Each scoop will be topped with a sprinkling of Hunted + Gathered white chocolate chips, and there'll also be free chocolate samples up for grabs. And if you want to get a cake for your Christmas Day dessert, the Cherry Bomb will be available at all three Pidapipo stores (Carlton, CBD and Windsor) and Hunted + Gathered's Cremorne store from Tuesday, December 3, until Wednesday, January 1, 2020. Images: Kate Shanasy.
When the Peninsula Hot Springs unveiled its revamped facilities in 2018, the acclaimed Fingal spot added something extra exciting: an amphitheatre. And, this February, you can enjoy it in all its glory when the Mornington Peninsula spa bring back its Bathe-In Cinema. For the next four Friday evenings, you can watch a rom-com on the big screen while submerged in a 39-degree geothermal pool. First cab off the ranks for Valentine's Day is British cult favourite Notting Hill — and even if you've watched it 500 times already, we're betting you haven't watched it like this. The next three films are up for selection from the public — at the moment, you can vote for either Bridget Jones' Diary or Sleepless in Seattle to be shown on February 21. Even better — catching a flick is included in the regular Bath House bathing price, which'll set you back $55 per person.
When it comes to eating your way through a few scoops of ice cream, no one really needs an excuse. But when there's free ice cream on offer, well, that's obviously as good a reason as you're ever going to get. And it just so happens that Ben & Jerry's is serving up exactly that across Australia until Sunday, November 15 — including at its stores in Burwood Brickworks, Flinders Lane and St Kilda. We hope you like your ice cream stuffed with dough — cookie dough, that is — because that's what's on the menu. To celebrate 30 years since it first started mixing cookie dough into its desserts, Ben & Jerrys is whipping up 35,000 free scoops from its dough-filled range. Yes, you'll have to choose between the old favourite that is chocolate chip cookie dough, the caramel and peanut butter-heavy 'The Tonight Dough' and the 'Totally Baked' flavour with bits of brownies, too. Or, you can opt for 'Boots on the Moooo'n', with toffee and sugar cookie dough; 'Peanut Butter Half Baked', which is clearly self-explanatory; and a non-dairy version of choc-chip cookie dough. To score your free ice cream, you'll need to register online first. You'll also need to select a times and a location — and then you can get licking.
UPDATE, January 27, 2021: Savage is available to stream via Stan and Amazon Video. Tattoos covering his cheeks, nose and forehead, a scowl affixed almost as permanently, but raw sorrow lurking in his eyes, Jake Ryan cuts a striking sight in Savage. He's a walking, drinking, growling, hammer-swinging advertisement for toxic masculinity — how it looks at its most stereotypical extreme, and how it often masks pain and struggle — and the performance is the clear highlight of the Home and Away, Wolf Creek and Underbelly actor's resume to-date. Playing a character named Danny but also known as Damage, Ryan also perfectly epitomises the New Zealand gang drama he's in, which similarly wraps in-your-face packaging around a softer, richer core. Savage's protagonist and plot have had plenty of predecessors over the years in various ways, from Once Were Warriors' exploration of violence, to Mean Streets' chronicle of crime-driven youth, plus the bikie warfare of TV's Sons of Anarchy and even Aussie film 1%, but there's a weightiness on display here that can't just be wrung from a formula. That said, although first-time feature director and screenwriter Sam Kelly takes inspiration from NZ's real-life gangs, and from true tales from within their ranks spanning three decades, Savage does noticeably follow a predictable narrative path. Viewers first meet Danny in 1989, when he's the second-in-charge of the Savages, which is overseen by his lifelong best friend Moses (John Tui, Fast & Furious: Hobbs & Shaw, Solo: A Star Wars Story) but is also under threat by rank-and-file members agitating for a leadership challenge. In-fighting, and Moses' sheer desperation to remain on top, aren't Danny's biggest issues, however. Whether imposing the ramifications of being disloyal upon a younger colleague or being unable to relinquish control in an intimate situation, he's both tightly wound and silently aching, and he's also unable to shake the cumulative effect of all the factors and decisions that have led him to this testosterone-saturated point. A series of flashbacks, each fittingly moody and tense, explain why Danny is in his current situation physically, mentally and emotionally. The film first jumps to 1965, when he's nine (played by Pete's Dragon's Olly Presling), victimised by his overbearing father and sent to juvenile detention, where he initially meets and befriends a young, wild-haired Moses (Lotima Pome'e). The circumstances leading to Danny's stint in custody and his treatment while he's there each leave an imprint, with Moses swiftly becoming the only person that he can count on. Skipping forward to 1972, when the pair are in their late teens (played by James Matamua and Haanz Fa'avae-Jackson), they establish the Savages — and, although it gives them a sense of belonging that's absent elsewhere, they're soon caught in a Wellington turf war with a rival gang. Yes, all of the above narrative elements have a well-worn feel to them, but a blandly, routinely by-the-numbers flick isn't the end result here. Aided by suitably gritty and restless camerawork that mirrors Danny's inner turmoil, the film packs a punch when it lets that unease fester in quiet moments. It's also particularly astute when honing in on Danny and Moses's complicated friendship, and how pivotal it is throughout their constantly marginalised lives. There's never any doubting that Savage is a movie about family, including the traumas they can inflict, the hurt that comes with being torn away from loved ones at a young age, the kinship found in understanding pals and the concept of brotherhood in gangs, and the feature is at its most affecting when it lets these truths emanate naturally. Kelly does like to stress the point, though, and to do overtly. Indeed, the clunkiest parts of Savage involve Danny's yearning to see his mother and his tussles with his older brother Liam (played by Jack William Parker as a teen and Seth Flynn as an adult). Every year Danny, stands outside his childhood home, looks on at his parents and siblings and, unable to step into the yard, notches a mark on the fence outside — and it's an instantly and repeatedly overdone touch. When he's reunited with Liam, it's because the two brothers are in opposing crews, another obvious, template-esque inclusion that's far less effective or moving than seeing how Danny navigates the gang he has chosen as his new family. Unsurprisingly, Danny's gang life is brutal and violent, which Savage doesn't shy away from in a visual sense. Tonally, the film aims for Shakespearian levels of tragedy, too, as Sons of Anarchy did before it. But while most of the feature hits its marks, draws viewers in and keeps them interested, the movie's biggest force and asset is always Ryan. Tui also proves a commanding screen presence, as does first-timer Alex Raivaru as the latter's nemesis, while young Presling and Pome'e share a convincing rapport. When an actor plays the kind of immediately imposing role that Ryan is tasked with, however, how they handle the subtler side of the character is pivotal — and audiences can feel Danny's bubbling distress even when he's the most formidable figure figure in the room. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NK3eDfkXBzg Top image: Domino Films, Matt Grace.
Finding a great cocktail isn't hard in Melbourne, but between Wednesday, February 26–Sunday, March 1, it'll become a little easier. For five booze-filled days, that's when the first Melbourne Cocktail Festival is taking over the city. If you're eager to wander between venues, sip plenty of drinks and taste the best creative tipples that this town has to offer, then you'll want a ticket. The aforementioned roam around the city forms part of MCF's Safari Pass, which costs $20 and features 24 bars. You'll still need to pay for your cocktail at each one; however you'll receive something special for $15 a pop, with each of the participating watering holes whipping up a unique concoction. You can rove at your own pace, and you'll also score a digital recipe book outlining the method behind every drink, as well as entry to MCF's closing party. Organised by hospitality-focused co-working space Worksmith and curated by Orlando Marzo — who earned the title of World Class Global Bartender of the Year in 2018 for his work at Lûmé — the fest will also include workshops, guided tours, seminars and art installations, as well as a tasting day event where plenty of sampling is in order. Coming to town from London, The Connaught Bar's Agostino Perrone and Giorgio Bargiani will headline the fest and share their mixology tips, while both those who make cocktails professionally and those who just like drinking them can expect a range of other highlights — including a fermentation workshop hosted by New York's Sandor Katz and The Fermentary's Sharon Flynn. Elsewhere on the program, Melbourne's much-loved pop-up bar Fancy Free is returning, taking over Fitzroy's Drinkwell for two days of video installations, DJs, Bar Liberty snacks and Bacardi Breezers, and Fitzroy's Rose Street market will host Marionette's Peachy Fete party with peach tea punch, peach bellinis, peach pie, peach soft serve and pretzels. You can also learn about the absinthe at Bar Amphere, drink bottomless gin punch at Gin Palace's boozy high tea, try many a caffeinated beverage at Mr Black's Bar Takeover of Beneath Driver Lane and help wrap up festivities at Whitehart Bar's closing party. There's a helluva lot more happening, too, you can check out the full program over here. [caption id="attachment_612040" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Whitehart Bar[/caption] Top image: James Morgan. Updated January 30, 2019.
Fancy reliving your childhood film favourites on the stage? That seems to be the current trend. Harry Potter and the Cursed Child is doing big business in Melbourne, the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory musical has been taking its golden tickets around the country, and now Shrek the Musical is bringing its all-singing, all-dancing version of the animated movie franchise to Her Majesty's Theatre from February 16, 2020. Expect plenty of green when this Tony and Grammy award-nominated stage show finally makes its way to our shores, after first premiering on Broadway back in 2008. Since then, everyone's favourite ogre — originally voiced by Mike Myers — has sung his way through theatres in the UK, Asia Europe, Canada, Latin and South America, Israel and Scandinavia. You know the story, of course — unless you somehow managed to miss the original 2001 Oscar-winning film, its sequels in 2004, 2007 and 2010, and the heap of spin-offs, shorts, TV specials and series that all followed. Based on the 1990 picture book Shrek!, the tale follows the reclusive but kindly titular figure who endeavours to rescue the feisty Princess Fiona from the the fairy tale-hating Lord Farquaad, all while trekking along with a talking Donkey sidekick. Shrek lovers can expect a whopping 19 songs, an obvious colour scheme and plenty of other fairy tale references. After its Melbourne run, it will head to the Lyric Theatre in Brisbane. Check out the trailer for the production's UK run below: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ESm1JoEIXAY Image: Helen Maybanks.
Melbourne's independent Thornbury Picture House is teaming up with Four Pillars gin for a mini booze and film festival. Each Thursday night in February, the 57-seat High Street spot is hosting double bills paired with gin cocktails. It's quite the lineup, too, with a little something for everyone on the bill. The festival is called Hot Summer Films, so that's the kind of tone it's going for — expect coming-of-age tales, love stories, summery thrillers and surf dramas hitting the screen. First up on February 6 is the program's only single bill: the adult film industry epic Boogie Nights. This you can pair with a spiced negroni gin spritz made with, of course, Four Pillars. Next, on February 13, two coming-of-age tales: Mexican drama Y Tu Mama Tambien and Italian-set romance Call Me By Your Name. On this night, you can sip on a cocktail made with Bloody Shiraz gin and bitter lemon. The following week, two 90s classics are on the bill. Kick off the night with Thelma & Louise and wrap things up with A League of Their Own — both paired with a G&T. Finally, the program wraps up with a twist on a moscow mule, the Tom Cruise-starring 80s hit Cocktail and surf drama Point Break. The first screening of each evening kicks off between 6.00–6.20pm, then the second between 8.25–8.40pm — but we suggest you get there a little earlier for the drinks. Tickets are $18.50 for each film. Top image: Nicole Cleary
More than eight months since it premiered at the 2019 Cannes Film Festival, winning the Palme d'Or and sparking a wave of acclaim that's still going, Bong Joon-ho's Parasite is still earning plenty of attention. In fact, even though the South Korean masterpiece opened in Australian cinemas at the end of June last year, it's still — yes, still — screening on the big screen. It actually hasn't stopped showing in theatres in all of that time. Whether you've seen the best film of 2019 already, or you've been meaning to catch up, heading along to a session on Sunday, February 9 is highly recommended. Don't just go to any old screening of the twisty flick, though. On this one day — the day before this year's Oscars, where Bong's applauded movie is in the running for six awards — Parasite will be screening in select cinemas in black and white. Bong has always wanted to make a B&W film, inspired by the works of auteurs such as Jean Renoir, Federico Fellini, Akira Kurosawa and John Ford. While Parasite was shot in colour, this new monochrome print lets its director live out his dreams. And, it lets audiences experience the movie's thrills, secrets and feuding families in a brand new way. As Bong himself explains about watching it in black and white, "the film felt more realistic and sharp, as if I was being cut by a blade." Melburnians can check out the B&W version at Cinema Nova; Palace Como, Westgarth and Balwyn; Kino Cinema; Village Jam Factory; the Cameo Belgrave, Classic Elsternwick and the Lido; and the Sun Yarraville. In the interim, watch the trailer below — in colour, though, not black and white: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SEUXfv87Wpk
Melburnians, you really love your cheese. You've tried a 150-cheese pizza, bought buckets of the stuff on the cheap and have entered cheese-fuelled comas in a cheese cave. Now, you can get your cheese fix in lockdown thanks to another ultra-cheesy experience: a 29-cheese gnocchi. South Yarra's Cucinetta is the eatery behind the wondrous creation, which it's bringing back for a lockdown 2.0. This time, though, it's a little different. Instead of eating it in-store, you can order it as part of a pack to pick up every Sunday from July 19–August 16. For $99.99, you get four truffle and cheese arancini, two serves of the 29-cheese gnocchi (which you finish off in the oven yourself), a salad and two tiramisu. And only 29 packs are available each week. The gnocchi in questions is handmade and comes with 29 cheeses sourced from Thomastown's That's Amore Cheese, including buffalo mozzarella, truffled caciotta (a fresh cow's milk cheese), smoked scamorza, blue cheese and salted ricotta. To get your hands on this limited-edition pack, you'll need to preorder via the Cucinetta website. If you, like us, fancy yourself a bit of a cheese fanatic, you're probably curious as to what the 29 cheeses are. Well, here's the full list: Fior di latte Buffalo mozzarella Burrata Scamorza bianca Caciotta Pepper caciotta Chilli caciotta Truffle caciotta Ricotta delicata Ricotta salata Mascarpone Squacquerone Buffalo bocconcini Buffalo ricotta Buffalo caciotta Buffalo mozzarella (smoked) Smoked bocconcini Smoked scamorza Smoked caciocavallo Diavoletto Secret of The Forest Drunken buffalo Lavato Panettone Panettone with truffle Caciocavallo Bufalotto Blue cheese Formaggio di vacca Cucinetta's 29-cheese gnocchi is available to pick up from 12–8pm every Sunday from July 19–August 16. Delivery is also available to select suburbs. You can preorder now. If and when you do decide to head out to pick up food, remember to follow the Australian Government Department of Health's social distancing guidelines.
Why drink at one watering hole, when you can head to two, three, six or more? That's always been the motivation behind everyone's favourite boozy journey, aka a pub crawl. And, it's the exact same type of thinking behind the Urban Wine Walk. Taking another wander around Melbourne, it's the bar-hopping excuse every vino lover needs — if you need an excuse, that is. From 12–4pm on Saturday, February 8, you'll saunter around Prahran and Windsor — and between the likes of White Oaks Saloon Bar and Dining, The Wolf and I, The Silverlake Social, Casa N.O.M. and more — sampling wines and having a mighty fine time. As for the tipples, they'll be taken care of by a range of local and national producers. Tickets cost $75 and places are limited. This moving cellar door will not only serve up more than 35 wine tastings, but also your own tasting glass — plus a voucher for another beverage, and a guide to help you plan your mosey between bars. Image: Griffin Sim.
UPDATE, August 24, 2020: American Animals is available to stream via SBS On Demand, Google Play, YouTube Movies and iTunes. For most people, a pile of DVDs provides a good night's viewing. For Spencer Reinhard (Barry Keoghan) and Warren Lipka (Evan Peters) in American Animals, it's a how-to guide. Hiring out The Usual Suspects, The Thomas Crown Affair, The Italian Job and more back in 2003, the pair aren't just indulging their love of heist films — they're planning their very own robbery. Alongside Eric Borsuk (Jared Abrahamson) and Chas Allen (Blake Jenner), the Kentucky college students set their sights on the Transylvania University library's rare collection, where specific volumes kept behind lock and key are worth millions. And while watching The Sting and giving each other codenames straight out of Reservoir Dogs mightn't seem like the smartest way to prepare, it illustrates the group's entire handling of their pilfering operation. Motivated by the thrill of disrupting their daily routine, the lure of easy money and the yearning to feel as though they're not simply average, Spencer and his fellow middle-class pals treat their caper like it's a movie. If they realise that the likes of Butch Cassidy and Point Break don't end well for the thieves, they're choosing to ignore it. Astonishingly, theirs is a true story. That said, it proves even more astonishing in Bart Layton's hands. Drawn to another strange slice of reality after 2012's similarly twisty and thrilling The Imposter, the writer-director literally turns the quartet's hijinks into the kind of slick Hollywood flick that they'd love to watch. Incorporating interviews with the actual men behind the larceny as well, Layton also crafts a spectacularly playful and entertaining film that blurs the line between documentary and drama. When Spencer discovers the treasure trove of books sitting within his college library, stealing them just seems so straightforward. Or at least it does to Warren. While art student Spencer is apprehensive, the more outgoing and carefree Warren latches onto the idea like there's no other alternative. And from that moment on, there isn't. Soon the two friends are sketching blueprints, flying to Amsterdam to meet with art dealers, rustling up disguises, and recruiting the apprehensive Eric and Chas. But then the big day arrives, they come face-to-face with the kindly archivist (Ann Dowd) charged with keeping the valuable texts safe, and the group's brush with crime is hardly the glossy heist that they've imagined. If only American Animals could've sat in Spencer and Warren's to-watch pile, showing them what lay ahead. It doesn't, of course, although the notion isn't that far removed from Layton's perceptive and inventive approach. In a supremely clever blend of fact, fiction, fantasy and memory — and a superb display of editing as well — the filmmaker inserts the real-life perpetrators into the proceedings. Along with their parents and teachers, they relay their version of events to the camera, often conflicting with each other. Layton rewinds his recreations in response, unfurling new takes and changing details. More than that, he lets the actual Spencer and Warren step into the drama and interact with their counterparts, stopping the actors playing them when questions arise about what exactly happened, and how, and why. There are heist movies, and then there are heist movies. Despite the many examples viewed by American Animals' protagonists, there's never been one quite like this. It's the product of a filmmaker who's determined to probe and ponder in a savvy and dazzling manner — and it's not only his thoroughly relevant and timely queries that grab attention, but the way he's doing the asking. In an endlessly fascinating film that wonders why four young men from comfortable backgrounds would risk their futures just to prove that they're special, and what that says about society as a whole, Layton lets his stylistic choices offer some of the answers. It's not by accident that American Animals begins with talking heads and naturalistic hues, then becomes fast and sleek when Spencer and company start chasing their fantasy, only to opt for grit and grimness when reality strikes. Serving up resounding proof that The Imposter wasn't a one-off, Layton is at the top of his game — but he also has help. Or, perhaps his nose for a stunning story and his astute ability to spin it in exactly the right way are matched by his knack for casting. Acting opposite the real figures, Keoghan (The Killing of a Sacred Deer) and Peters (X-Men: Days of Future Past) couldn't better convey Spencer and Warren's essence. When the actual Warren proudly shows off his comic tattoo of a tyrannosaurus rex trying to switch off a ceiling fan, Peters instantly matches his wild yet assured vibe. When Spencer shows himself to be a ball of quiet nerves, Keoghan lets the feeling seep out of his pores. Still, the greatest trick that American Animals pulls is turning truth into a yarn and vice-versa, all while demonstrating how flimsy the boundary between the two truly is. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlSxrxMYn8A
If you've been dreaming about a new set of wheels to help you gracefully glide into the sunny season, the legends at Amsterdam-born bike label Lekker can help you out. This weekend, the company's Melbourne store will host another edition of its ever-popular 'garage sale', promising two days filled with bikes, bargains, eats and beats. The party starts pedalling at 10am on both Saturday, October 6, and Sunday, October 7, at Lekker's cheery North Melbourne warehouse. Those in the market for new wheels will be able to test ride a few different designs around the suburb's backstreets, and, if all goes well, buy one — all bikes, accessories and parts will be discounted, some by up to 50 percent. Backing up the fun and embracing those sweet spring vibes, there'll be a soundtrack of groovy tunes, plus free food and drinks. Don't risk a sleep-in, though — Lekker's past sales have seen pretty hefty lines of punters keen for those bicycle bargains and you don't want to miss out.
If you had only ever watched five horror movies in your life, odds are that one would've covered being careful what you wish for, and another would've focused on not messing with nature. It's equally likely that growing up being hell, motherhood being even more nightmarish and grappling with the terrors of the human body would've popped up as well. These all rank among the genre's favourite concepts, alongside haunted houses, murderous forces, demonic influences and the undead — and, making her feature filmmaking debut with the savvily sinister-meets-satirical blend that is Hatching, Finnish writer/director Hanna Bergholm knows this. She's also innately aware that something unique, distinctive and unnerving can still spring from stitching together well-used notions and now-familiar parts, which, on- and off-screen, is her bold and memorable body-horror, twisted fairy tale and dark coming-of-age thriller in an eggshell. Hatching begins by unpacking a fallacy as fractured as Humpty Dumpty after the nursery-rhyme character's fall — and that still keeps being lapped up anyway. In suburban Finland, among homes so identical that the song 'Little Boxes' instantly pops into your head, 12-year-old gymnast Tinja (debutant Siiri Solalinna), her younger brother Matias (fellow first-timer Oiva Ollila), and their mother (Sophia Heikkilä, Dual) and father Jani Volanen, Dogs Don't Wear Pants) are living their best lives. More than that, as the soft lensing and music that helps open the movie establishes, they're also beaming that picture of pink, white and pastel-hued domestic perfection to the world. Tinja's unnamed mum is a vlogger, and these scenes are being captured for her cloyingly named blog Lovely Everyday Life. Naturally, showing that this family of four's daily existence is anything but enchanting is one of Bergholm's first aims. The initial crack comes from outside, crashing through the window to ruin a posed shot alight with fake smiles and, of course, being filmed with a selfie stick. Soon, broken glass, vases and lamps are strewn throughout a lounge room so immaculately arranged that it looks straight out of a supermarket-shelf home-and-garden magazine — and the crowning glory, the chandelier, has descended from a luminous pièce de résistance to a shattered mess. A garden-variety crow is the culprit, which Tinja carefully captures. She hands it to her mother, thinking that they'll then release it outside. But her mum, placid but seething that anything could disrupt her manufactured picture of bliss, ignores that idea with a cruel snap and instructions to dispose of the animal in the organic waste. Watching the source of her own life snuff out a bird's because it temporarily disturbed the faux, performative idyll is understandably a formative moment for Tinja, and one of several early splinters. The girl is clearly nowhere near as enthused about gymnastics as her mum is about having a star gymnast for a daughter, even before Tinja is forced to train until her palms are torn and bloody. She's also unsettled when she sees her mother kissing handyman Tero (Reino Nordin, Deadwind), then justifies having a "special friend" because he satisfies her in ways Tinja's dutiful dad doesn't. So when Tinja finds the crow's egg in a nest outside, she's quick to take it into her care — both because of and despite her mum. She nurtures it tenderly, placing it inside a teddy bear for safe keeping. She gains her own little universe to dote over. Then the egg keeps growing, and a human-sized chick emerges. Hatching is economical, running for a mere 86 minutes. It also unfurls that above setup in its first third. From there, screenwriter Ilja Rautsi (Spandex Sapiens) — working with a story co-credited to Bergholm — spins a narrative that's part creature feature, too, but wholly steeped in Tinja's experiences encroaching womanhood and tackling her own form of motherhood under the wing of someone who always puts appearances first. The grin-and-bear-it attitude that's imparted to adolescent girls to deal with bullying; the pressure to be perfect physically, emotionally and mentally, no matter the cost; the stigma around body image; the force exerted by caregivers and society alike around bodily agency; the urges and desires that comes with bubbling hormones: they're all weaved into Hatching's smart script. So too is the reality that, for girls, farewelling childhood doesn't just mean menstruation and other physical changes, but the potential to get pregnant, become a mother and have your existence forever tied to your offspring. If Rosemary's Baby springs to mind in Hatching's repeated lullaby-like refrain, plus the Alien franchise in its visceral depiction of twisted maternity, that's understandable. If there's a touch of E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial to the relationship between Tinja and the creature, but filtered through Black Swan and Us, that is as well. 2021's similar blend of folklore and parenthood, Lamb, also flaps gently — and the mother of all tales about sparking life, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, too. One visual touch nods so overtly to David Lynch's Twin Peaks that you expect someone to mention damn fine coffee, while Blue Velvet's peeling back of suburban facades weighs heavily. The body-horror work of that other iconic filmmaking David, The Brood, Scanners and The Fly's Cronenberg, also flutters underneath as a clear influence. But Bergholm has incubated a rare movie that both makes its sources of inspiration blatant and feels like its own beast sprung from their combined DNA. One of the film's most striking moves hails from its twinning not just of Tinja and her surrogate offspring (via a supremely disturbing animatronic puppet to begin with, and evolving from there), but of two ways of soaring through the world. When cinematographer Jarkko T Laine (Finnish TV's Cargo) isn't lensing Päivi Kettunen's (Hotel Swan Helsinki) exacting production design, which weaponises floral wallpaper to a chilling degree, like an influencer's Instagram story — or peering into shadowy wardrobes and under beds — he's connecting the visual dots between flying birds and gymnastic acrobatics. For Tinja, though, the latter hasn't ever meant freedom. As so astonishing portrayed by Solalinna in a complicated part, and against such an entertainingly monstrous turn by Heikkilä, she's always felt trapped and henpecked in the nest. Hatching splits open that coop, its artifice and all the lies that reside within it — and, while happily obvious at times, makes for a crackingly clever, grotesque and canny watch.
History is written by the victors, or at least that's what the oft-used quote contends. In the same vein, tales about cancer are frequently focused on those fortunate enough not to experience their own malignant diagnosis. These are stories of grief-stricken folks struggling with watching a loved one face the disease, and potentially losing them, rather than accounts of what it's like to hear the words that no one ever wants to have said about their health. Spoiler Alert is one such narrative, first on the page and now on-screen starring The Big Bang Theory's Jim Parsons as real-life TV journalist Michael Ausiello and Knock at the Cabin's Ben Aldridge as his photographer husband Kit Cowan. Ausiello penned the printed memoir, which is honest, poignant and never blissfully rose-hued — but the fact that director Michael Showalter's latest big-screen illness drama, following the authentic and sincere The Big Sick, shortens the autobiography's full outcome-revealing title says plenty about this sweet but formulaic tear-jerker. No matter how you've been touched by cancer, or haven't, it's impossible not to spot the template beneath weepies about sickness. Trading in tragedy but also hope, these flicks weather heartbreak while dreaming of a happy ending even when they know one won't come — and it's to Spoiler Alert's detriment that the film teases in that direction to tug at heartstrings. Scripted not by ex-TV Guide and Entertainment Weekly writer-turned-TVLine founder Ausiello himself, but A Million Little Things' David Marshall Grant and Savage Love columnist Dan Savage, this is a picture that keeps things largely routine and simplistic rather than deep as a result. Indeed, when it gets welcomely thorny — when it feels specific to Ausiello and Cowan's 13-year-relationship, laying bare its early awkwardness and many imperfections rather than squeezing the pair's lives into the usual cancer-tainted romantic-drama pattern — it's a richer movie. More comfortable interacting with the world by watching the small screen than physically dancing through it — or dancing at all — Michael only meets Kit because a colleague tells him to ditch the Fear Factor listicle he's been assigned to hit up jock night at a gay bar instead. And, he needs more encouraging to even contemplate flirting; busting out Knight Rider references aren't the kind of banter that love at first sight is made of. One issue here, and throughout: Parsons' casting. His presence acts as a nicely winking joke given that he's a big TV star playing a TV-obsessed writer, but the movie also feels far too reluctant to tinker with or stretch its lead's established sitcom persona. Although Parsons isn't playing Sheldon Cooper playing Michael Ausiello, the actor's most famous character to-date casts a shadow over a film it shouldn't, especially since this is Michael and Kit's true story. Spoiler Alert begins before that initial encounter, with Michael first imagining his upbringing as a laugh track-accompanied 80s comedy called The Ausiellos. These scenes recur, designed to ground Michael's personality and coping mechanisms in his childhood, when he lost his mother to cancer and escaped into soap operas — but despite Showalter's comedy pedigree, including as a co-writer and star of Wet Hot American Summer and Wet Hot American Summer: First Day of Camp, they're clumsy. What the sitcom segments show, too, is that Spoiler Alert is beholden to a formula for most of its running time and yet also better when it hones in on its characters over cute quirks even while staying oh-so-standard. Being detailed will always triumph over going broad, something that Showalter demonstrated with The Big Sick; of course, his latest also plays too easily and familiarly as a companion piece to that hit. Here's a tidbit that can only be real, and is: Michael's apartment filled with more vintage Smurfs memorabilia than you're ever likely to see elsewhere, aka why he's apprehensive about bringing Kit home when things start clicking. (Ausiello's IRL collection was used.) The toys don't scare off his date like they might most, but Spoiler Alert sees the ups as well as the downs as weeks turn into months and years, Kit is dismissive of Michael's career, their differing levels of self-confidence causes distance, their varying wants cause rifts, each has their own takes on monogamy and therapy sessions become the norm. While Showalter and company don't dive particularly far into any of the above, they're still among Spoiler Alert's most resonant moments. Those, and whenever Sally Field (who led Showalter's Hello, My Name Is Doris in 2015) and Bill Irwin (The Dropout) appear as Kit's parents Marilyn and Bob, who he needs to come out to. That said, when Spoiler Alert kicks into illness mode, actively endeavouring to get the waterworks flowing, it still sparks the emotional response it's so forcefully seeking. It's also impossible not to be moved by the couple's plight, straightforward and eager to tick the predictable weepie boxes as the film clearly is. Unsurprisingly, there's greater emphasis placed on Michael's experiences by Kit's side than Kit's. Audiences are asked to empathise more with caring for and confronting a possible future without the one they love, because that's Ausiello's tale, over being the person whose existence faces its end. Even in a movie that's careful about not airbrushing away anyone's flaws — Michael's included — that's where Aldridge's charm, warmth and soul does crucial heavy lifting to make Kit more than a bystander in his own life-or-death ordeal. In addition to being a romance about a fated love, plus a drama about sickness, Spoiler Alert is a Christmas movie. When it's making star-led mainstream LGBTQIA+ films, Hollywood is currently head over heels for queer features that tie into the holidays, as Happiest Season and Bros also do. All three take a clearcut setup and attempt to make it their own, just with added Yuletide touches; spoiler alert: this life-to-page-to-screen effort is the least of the trio. The festive trimmings say plenty about Spoiler Alert as well, actually. Under the tree or stuffed in stockings, everything looks similar when packaged in jolly paper, after all. More often than not — and spanning its tinsel-decked scenes and its cancer narrative alike — Ausiello and Cowan's very real story becomes the glossily shot movie equivalent of a cookie-cutter wrapped-up gift.
Thanks to his Oscar-nominated work co-penning The Worst Person in the World's screenplay, Eskil Vogt has already helped give the world one devastatingly accurate slice-of-life portrait in the past year. That applauded film is so insightful and relatable about being in your twenties, and also about weathering quarter-life malaise, uncertainty and crisis, that it feels inescapably lifted from reality — and it's sublime. The Innocents, the Norwegian filmmaker's latest movie, couldn't be more different in tone and narrative; however, it too bears the fingerprints of achingly perceptive and deep-seated truth. Perhaps that should be mindprints, though. Making his second feature as a director after 2014's exceptional Blind, Vogt hones in on childhood, and on the way that kids behave with each other when adults are absent or oblivious — and on tykes and preteens who can wreak havoc solely using their mental faculties. Another riff on Firestarter, this thankfully isn't. The Innocents hasn't simply jumped on the Stranger Things bandwagon, either. Thanks to the latter, on-screen tales about young 'uns battling with the supernatural are one of Hollywood's current favourite trends — see also: the awful Ghostbusters: Afterlife — but all that this Nordic horror movie's group of kids are tussling with is themselves. Their fight starts when nine-year-old Ida (debutant Rakel Lenora Fløttum) and her 11-year-old sister Anna (fellow first-timer Alva Brynsmo Ramstad), who is on the autism spectrum, move to an apartment block in Romsås, Oslo with their mother (Blind's Ellen Dorrit Petersen) and father (Morten Svartveit, Ninjababy). It's summer, the days are long, and the two girls are largely left to their own devices outside in the complex's communal spaces. That's where Ida befriends Aisha (Mina Yasmin Bremseth Asheim) and Ben (Sam Ashraf), albeit not together, and starts to learn about their abilities. One of The Innocents' most astonishing scenes — in a film with many — springs from Ida discovering what the sullen, bullied Ben can do solely with his brain. Indeed, one of Vogt's masterstrokes is focusing on how she reacts to the boy's telekinesis, as demonstrated by flinging around a bottle cap. Ida is almost preternaturally excited, and she's lured in by the thrall of what Ben might be able to do next, even though she can visibly sense that something isn't quite right. Another series of unforgettable moments arises shortly afterward when her new pal, lapping up the attention from his only friend, cruelly and sickeningly shows off without even deploying his superpowers. It's a deeply disturbing turn in a movie that repeatedly isn't afraid to find evident terrors in ordinary, everyday, banal surroundings, and Ida's response — horrified, alarmed, yet unwilling to completely cut ties — again says everything. Vogt doesn't shy away from intimating something that society often doesn't, won't or both: that childhood and innocence don't always go hand in hand. En route to their new home in the film's opening sequence, Ida is already spied pinching the non-verbal Anna just to glean what she'll do. Later, as conveyed in economical imagery lensed by stellar cinematographer Sturla Brandth Grøvlen — who already has Another Round, Last and First Men, Shirley, Rams and Victoria to his name, and uses blood here with haunting precision — she's seen escalating that pain-fulled experimentation in a gutwrenching fashion. This side to the girl's personality isn't played as a twist or shock, and neither are Ben's skills and proclivities, or the friendly Aisha's telepathic powers (including the ability to communicate with Anna). Instead, The Innocents is positively matter of fact about what its pint-sized characters are capable of, and also steadfastly avoids trading in simplistic ideas of good and evil, or offering up neat rationales. It's one thing to bake such complexity into the script, which Vogt does with ease. When it comes to working with children, it's another entirely to have those layers and that eagerness to reside in shades of grey radiate from the cast. All newcomers to the screen, Fløttum, Ramstad, Ashraf and Asheim each manage to possess both relaxed naturalism and heaving texture — like they're not being recorded at all, but also as if they've always belonged in front of the camera, playing out their intricate games. Fløttum's expressive face is particularly striking in capturing The Innocents' eerie yet probing mood, whether Ida is flirting with darkness herself, frightened by what may come, or doing whatever she can to protect her sister and her family. But she's definitely not alone in making chatting without saying a thing, throwing about frying pans without moving a muscle and twisting childhood larks in otherworldly ways feel as commonplace as hitting the sandpit or swing set. They're little alike in vibe and atmosphere — a sense of fairy tale-esque dreaminess aside, although deployed in vastly dissimilar manners — but in stepping into the realms inhabited only by young hearts and minds, The Innocents slides in nicely alongside recent French delight Petite Maman. Both movies let their youthful characters exist in worlds defined only by themselves and their own rules, rather than by ideas and norms outlined by grown-ups. Neither of the two features would ever dare suggest that how its central figures experience life isn't worthy of attention or respect, or comes second to adult routines and woes. And, the pair of flicks also dive into how kids cope with everything that's constantly thrown in their direction, including by each other, with the utmost of seriousness. Here, that includes unpacking the morals they enforce among themselves, and also come to by themselves, but never explaining away something so complicated. In The Innocents, that detailed and disarming portrait of youth sits within a daylight nightmare, too — one that's not quite on the also Scandinavian-set Midsommar's level of chills, but always festers with unease nonetheless. Parallels also lurk with the superb Let the Right One In and its account of an undead tween, with the mental scares inflicted in Carrie and The Shining, and, unsurprisingly, with Thelma, the 2017 film about a university student grappling with inexplicable powers that Vogt wrote with The Worst Person in the World's Joachim Trier. The Innocents stands boldly beside its thematic peers, however, rather than in their shadows. Its various bits and pieces have their predecessors, but its blend of uncanny candour, creepiness, empathy and intelligence is all its own. While an English-language remake is bound to follow, frolicking in this smart and savvy playground again — and making something that doesn't just play like a cookie-cutter superhero origin flick at best (yes, the recent Firestarter comes to mind once more) — won't be an easy feat.
With a great superhero character comes a great responsibility — to sling everyone's favourite friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man onto screens as often as possible, it seems. That's been the case for two decades now, ever since Tobey Maguire first donned the red-and-blue suit. Indeed, from 2002 onwards, nine different dedicated Spider-Man flicks have graced cinemas. Maguire did the honours three times, including in 2004 and 2007. Andrew Garfield became Peter Parker in 2012's The Amazing Spider-Man and 2014's The Amazing Spider-Man 2: Rise of Electro, too. And, of course, Tom Holland is the current iteration, with three standalone movies — Spider-Man: Homecoming, Spider-Man: Far From Home and Spider-Man: No Way Home on his resume. Oh, and there's also the best Spider-Man film of the lot of them: the animated Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. That's a whole clutter of Spideys, and we're reminding you of this because all of those nine features are coming to the Astor Theatre for one huge web-slinging day and night. Get ready to stick yourself to the cinema's seats to watch your way through every single one in a big 16.5-hour sitting that the venue is aptly calling Spider-Thon. From 1pm on Saturday, June 16, your spider sense will be tingling. You'll then spend hours upon hours seeing three actors and a heap of pixels do everything a spider can. Spider-Thon is only focusing on dedicated Spidey flicks, so there's no Marvel Cinematic Universe movies on the bill where he pops up but isn't in the title — otherwise you'd be watching Spider-Man movies for weeks.
To look at John Shipton is to see the obvious, even if you've never laid eyes upon him before. The family resemblance is immediately clear, and the traits that've likely been passed down from father to son — determination and persistence, blatantly — become apparent within minutes. Shipton needs to be resolute for the battle that documentary Ithaka captures. It's a fight that's been waged for a decade now, publicly, and not just in embassies and courtrooms but across news headlines worldwide. He's visibly Julian Assange's dad, and he's been helping spearhead the campaign for the WikiLeaks founder's release. Assange fell afoul of US authorities in 2010, when his non-profit whistleblower organisation published documents about the American military's war crimes leaked by army intelligence analyst Chelsea Manning. As Ithaka makes plain, The Guardian, The New York Times and Der Spiegel revealed the same information at the same time; however, only Assange now sits in London's Belmarsh prison. Plenty about the past 12 years since Manning's leaks were exposed to the world is filled with numbers. Plenty about the ten years this June since Assange first took refuge in the Embassy of Ecuador in London is as well. The Australian editor and publisher spent almost seven years in that diplomatic space, seeking political asylum from sexual misconduct allegations in Sweden that he contended would be used to extradite him to America. If the US succeeds in its efforts, and in its espionage charges against him, he faces up to 175 years in incarceration. The list of figures goes on, but filmmaker Ben Lawrence (Hearts and Bones) makes two pivotal choices. Firstly, he surveys Assange's current struggle not through the Aussie himself, but through both Shipton and Stella Moris, his South African-born lawyer and now wife. Secondly, although those aforementioned numbers are inescapable, the riveting and affecting Ithaka brings humanity to this well-publicised plight. Moris herself sums up the movie's position best at the unveiling of a statue of Assange in Geneva. "I'm here to remind you that Julian isn't a name, he isn't a symbol; he's a man and he's suffering," she says. It's a reminder that Ithaka's audience might need, given how ubiquitous Assange's tale has become, including on-screen — in fellow docos We Steal Secrets: The Story of WikiLeaks and Risk, and in dramas Underground: The Julian Assange Story and The Fifth Estate — and how polarising he has proven. Risk attempted to grapple with his contradictions, but Ithaka almost deems them irrelevant. Lawrence doesn't dismiss, excuse or pander; rather, he knows that Shipton and Moris' point remains regardless: that how Assange has been treated for receiving and publishing information is a human rights abuse, as well as an attack on the freedom of the press. That notion echoes again and again in Ithaka alongside its rousing soundtrack by Brian Eno, and with passion; to look at both Shipton and Moris is to see the fervour blazing tirelessly in their eyes, too. Making his second documentary after 2018's Ghosthunter, Lawrence fills the bulk of his naturalistically shot frames with the pair working against Assange's possible extradition, and for justice, with that avid gleam given ample opportunities to keep burning. Again, among the litany of opinions that he's evoked over the years, the idea that the Australian deserves life in prison for distributing Manning's intel to the world — or that anyone does — shouldn't have a place. Ithaka's allegiances are never in doubt, even without knowing that Assange's brother Gabriel Shipton is one of its producers, but giving time to the WikiLeaks creator's critics wouldn't and couldn't have changed its core position. Lawrence knows what everyone watching knows, though: that the mantra behind the movie isn't a new one. Accordingly, the film shows as much as it tells — leaving the telling to Shipton, Moris and talking-head interviewees; and having cinematographer Niels Ladefoged (an assistant editor on the original Swedish The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) deeply and carefully observe the minutiae around Ithaka's core duo. The documentary can veer towards the procedural as a result, including when Moris works through a desperate and ultimately unsuccessful plan to get then-US President Donald Trump to issue a pardon. It's always personal, of course; that Assange is primarily present as a voice on the phone, aka exactly how his father and wife have interacted with him during his time at Belmarsh, especially after the pandemic hit, only makes that feeling all the more evident. Shipton and Moris have long stressed the stakes for Assange — Moris' Geneva remarks are just one such instance captured in the feature — but Ithaka is equally concerned with the impact upon the pair. It doesn't just use the two as a different access point into this now-familiar story, but to illustrate the emotional and psychological burden that falls upon them as they crusade, lobby and also worry. As Assange's legal battles are prolonged, septuagenarian Shipton loses time with his five-year-old daughter in Australia, while Moris raises her two children with Assange alone. Alongside tenacity, weariness lingers in their eyes as well. It's there, noticeably, when Shipton rankles against pointless or ill-thought-out questions, and when he's ceaselessly direct in response. Assange's case continues; he awaits the latest ruling in his efforts to avoid extradition, a matter that's been before the courts for years now. Previously, it was decreed that his mental health would suffer, and he'd be a suicide risk in the conditions that'd greet him in America; however, the US government has kept pressing, winning a High Court judgement in its favour in late 2021, while Assange's team keeps fighting back. Ithaka overtly aims to raise awareness; the documentary is an act of activism as much as a portrait of Shipton and Moris. It's engrossing and fascinating, too, plus powerful viewing on a subject, and a person, that's rarely been far from the media's gaze for the bulk of this century — but not like this.
UPDATE, November 25, 2022: The Northman is available to stream via Binge, Prime Video, Google Play, YouTube Movies and iTunes. Satanic goats don't talk in The Northman. Heartthrobs don't masturbate while fondling mermaid figurines, either. Still, within ten minutes, pre-teen Viking prince Amleth (Oscar Novak, The Batman), his glory-seeking warrior father King Aurvandil War-Raven (Ethan Hawke, Moon Knight) and jester-meets-shaman Heimir (Willem Dafoe, Nightmare Alley) descend into a fire-lit cave to take hallucinogens, growl, grunt, bark like wolves and fart like it's a god-given superpower. If viewers didn't know who's behind this bold, brutal, brilliant, and blood- and guts-strewn Scandinavian opus before then, there's no doubt from this trippy scene onwards: after The Witch and The Lighthouse, writer/director Robert Eggers' touch, approach and style have become that distinctive just three remarkable features into his helming career. As he first demonstrated with his potent pilgrim horror movie, then doubled down on with his mesmerising oceanside nightmare, Eggers crafts chaotic celluloid dreams about faith- and sanity-stretching dances with madness and mania. He makes features so striking that they're haunting, rippling with the devotedly realistic and the hypnotically occult in tandem. Eggers' work isn't merely meticulously tense and atmospheric; it proves blisteringly visceral to the point of feeling inescapably tangible. Indeed, his steadfast commitment to authenticity spirits the whole concept of immersive filmmaking high into movie Valhalla. See: the vivid period-appropriate detail in The Northman's Nordic villages, which'd only be more evocative if they'd time-travelled in from the ninth and tenth centuries. Sense: the entrancing swirl that springs from all of the above, complete with Eggers' unfailing idiosyncrasies. Experience: the sublime tussle with myth, fantasy and folklore that results, as it has in each of his features, to both plunge into and interrogate his history-set reveries. In this untamed and laid-bare portrait of the past, something is rotten in the state of Iceland — as it was in Denmark via William Shakespeare, and in the Pride Lands of Africa in both versions of The Lion King. Writing The Northman's screenplay with poet, novelist and Björk collaborator Sjón (Lamb), Eggers takes his cues not from Hamlet, however, but from the Old Norse legend of Amleth that inspired the iconic tragedy. The narrative still involves a son anointed to be the future king, a tragedy that shatters his regal family, and a dastardly uncle who gets murderous to seize the throne and his brother's wife, of course. And, it keeps following its protagonist as he wages a determined odyssey of feral revenge against the man who reshaped his fate so ruthlessly. "I will avenge you, father. I will save you, mother. I will kill you, Fjölnir." That's Amleth's vow as a boy on a north Atlantic island in 895 when he witnesses the latter's (Claes Bang, Locked Down) treachery. He flees after hearing his uncle bay for his head, too, and seeing him carry off Queen Gudrún (Nicole Kidman, Being the Ricardos) as a spoil of his victory. Two decades later, Amleth (Alexander Skarsgård, Succession) is a hulking, wolfskin-clad Viking berserker, living life flinging whatever weaponry he can find while viciously pillaging through the lands of the Rus. But amid the bloodlust, gore and piling-up body count, the intense marauder is thrust back onto his vengeance-seeking path. A Slavic seeress (Björk, in her first film role since 2005) whispers stark truths about his current savagery and lapsed mission against Fjölnir, reigniting his yearning for that promised slaughter — and the single-minded behemoth learns that his uncle is now sheep-farming in Iceland, having lost the kingdom in another coup. A line from Hamlet comes to mind: "now could I drink hot blood". By the time Amleth brands himself to pass as a prisoner of war, slips onto a slave ship and ensures he's among the new captives at Fjölnir's ranch, he's already literally done just that. But his thirst for honouring his father, rescuing his mother and slaying his uncle remains unquenched, and he soon has help from and the heart of fellow servant Olga (Anya Taylor-Joy, who scored her big break with The Witch alongside Eggers). How that quest eventuates won't surprise anyone familiar with the Bard, but The Northman still astonishes again and again. As only visionary filmmakers can, Eggers refuses to take any expected turn or make a single predictable move even while playing with a plot that's long spilled its thrills across popular culture, and while slashing into a genre — Viking epics — that's rarely far from screens. High among The Northman's joys and wonders, both large and small, sits its cast — with Skarsgård fulfilling a decade-plus journey from playing True Blood vampire Eric Northman to both starring in and producing this, which he's been trying to bring to fruition for just as long. His muscular power and presence as the epitome of rage and revenge is pulsating, not to mention physically commanding, and buying Amleth as the lacerating spirit of both a wolf and a bear is one of the easiest things about the film. His Big Little Lies co-star Kidman also turns in a ferocious performance, and the pair's evolution from that TV hit's husband-and-wife dynamic to this flick's unhinged mother-and-son duo drips with the requisite Oedipal creepiness. Elsewhere, Bang does brooding villainy like he's born to it, as he showed in Dracula; 22 years after playing Hamlet himself, Hawke delivers a 20-minute supporting-player masterclass; and the inimitable Taylor-Joy ensures that no one else could ever be pictured in her pivotal part. Plus, that Eggers finds small roles for The Witch's Kate Dickie and Ralph Ineson doesn't go unnoticed. A ravaging rampage of a film — a movie beating with unshakeable fury, as metal a Viking saga that's ever likely to be made, and equally thunderous and off-kilter — Eggers' best feature yet wouldn't be what it is without its weight and spectacle, though. It's a picture of brusque poetry in its dialogue, its curt lines laden with importance but never trite (Amleth's stated juggling act to find "kindness for my kin and hate for my enemies" included). It's a work of elemental potency in its sweepingly shot imagery, with cinematographer Jarin Blaschke (a veteran of all three of the director's films) painting with light, the stunning landscapes, and the wind, rain, snow, mud, fire and ash that lurks upon it. That's true in the head-splitting game of Knattleikr that makes just one primal centrepiece, the climactic naked volcano sword fight and the many supernatural-laced sights in-between. And, it all contributes to a breathtaking cinematic onslaught that savvily turns hellishness into movie heaven — all without shying away from the costs and sacrifices of Amleth's crusade; serving up a simplistic revenge fantasy; or excusing, glorifying or downplaying the relentless violence that informs every moment.
Prefer a hi-fi sort of Sunday session to basic beers at the pub? Well, you're in luck because Poodle Bar & Bistro is here to elevate your weekend with a fresh instalment of its ever-popular Patio Party. The Fitzroy spot will be serving up the goods once again this Sunday, February 5, complete with special guests in tow. Kicking off from 2pm, it's set to be a two-level affair with refreshments to suit all kinds of weekend cravings. Upstairs, you'll catch the crew from Hector's Deli slinging a few of their cult-favourite sandwich creations which you can pair with drinks from Romeo Lane's cocktail-shaking legend Joe Jones. Alternatively, mosey on out to the patio to feast on grilled goodies courtesy of Club Kitchen. As for the drinks, consider yourself equally spoilt for choice. A low intervention-leaning wine selection is being curated by Dazma Wine Company, while the folks at Sopra Seltzer will be cracking open a few of their latest fizzy flavours. Plus, Poodle's own bar will have plenty of other tipples to round out the fun. All that to enjoy alongside sounds from the day's lineup of guest DJs — Simon TK, Salvador Ricardo, DJ Sarah, Georgia Bird and Alessio Latina. Tickets are an easy $10, with eats and drinks to purchase as you go. [caption id="attachment_887476" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Joe Jones[/caption]
The actors have it: in The Whale, Brendan Fraser (No Sudden Move), Hong Chau (The Menu) and Sadie Sink (Stranger Things) are each masterful, and each in their own way. For viewers unaware that this drama about a reclusive 600-pound English professor stems from the stage going in, it won't take long to realise — for multiple reasons, the film's performances chief among them. As penned by Samuel D Hunter (also a writer on TV's Baskets) from his award-winning semi-autobiographical play, The Whale's script is talky and blunt. The movie is confined to its protagonist Charlie's home, and is as claustrophobic as it's meant to be as a result. But it's that key acting trio, with the portrayals they splash through a flick that's a complicated sea of feelings and ideas, that helps The Whale swim when it swims. Yes, the Brenaissance is upon us, showering Fraser in accolades including his first-ever Oscar nod; however, fellow Academy Award-nominee Chau and rising star Sink are equally as powerful. Is it really the Brenaissance if Fraser hasn't ever been too far from our screens for too long? When he was recently stellar in 2021's No Sudden Move, albeit in a supporting part? Given that it's been decades since he's had the space and the feature to serve up this kind of lead effort, the answer remains yes. Slip his The Whale performance in beside standout 2002 thriller The Quiet American — although the latter didn't place The Mummy action star and Encino Man comedic force beneath considerable prosthetics. Fraser doesn't let his appearance here do all the work, though. Filmmaker Darren Aronofsky, who hones in on the stressed and tested as he has so frequently before (see: Requiem for a Dream, Black Swan, The Wrestler and mother!), doesn't allow it to, either. At the core of the pair's collaboration is a portrayal that overflows with vulnerability and grief alongside optimism for humanity, and acutely fuses Charlie's emotional and physical states. The character self-mockingly jokes that his internal organs are buried deep, but nothing conceals Fraser's sensitivity. It's with a lone black square that The Whale initially explains Charlie's relationship with the world: on online calls with his students, he's represented by a void of a tile. He claims that his webcam is broken, but he's actively hiding — from his pupils' reactions and from facing his sorrow. Other than these digital lectures, visits from his friend and nurse Liz (Chau) to check on his wellbeing and deliver food, and daily pizza drops from a driver instructed to leave the slices outside, Charlie has withdrawn from everything beyond his first-floor apartment when the film begins. That said, The Whale isn't a portrait of a man who is sad and has shut himself off because he is overweight. Rather, it's an exploration of someone who has an eating disorder because he is heartbroken by a tragedy, relying upon food compulsively to cope, and to process his doubts and regrets over his decisions and their ramifications. Friedrich Nietzsche's aphorism "what does not kill me makes me stronger" is flipped here: after the death of his partner Alan, who he left his ex-wife Mary (Samantha Morton, She Said) and now-teenage daughter Ellie (Sink) to be with, Charlie is using the sustenance we all need for strength and survival as his escape route. His sense of self has been slain by his loss, and so has his willingness to go on. It isn't just to ramp up tension or establish that obesity can spark high blood pressure and heart attacks that The Whale has its central figure doubling over with chest pains while he's masturbating early in the feature. With the film's narrative unfurling day by day, the incident sets a ticking clock, but most importantly it sees Charlie refuse to go to hospital. When she arrives, Liz insists, but he still won't agree. In this specific character study, he's that steadfast — and, even as he tries to reconnect with the bitter Ellie and spouts hope for humankind's ability to care, he's that intensely unhappy without Alan. Indeed, if it wasn't for missionary Thomas (Ty Simpkins, Avengers: Endgame), who conveniently comes a-knocking for the New Life church spouting a message about the end of times, Charlie wouldn't make it to The Whale's second act. Instead of asking the soul-searching young man to phone an ambulance, he makes a request that seems inexplicable while he's struggling for breath: to read aloud from an essay about Moby-Dick. The film gains its title from and shares its sense of search with Herman Melville's famous novel, as Charlie battles the behemoth that is his own complicated, constantly contrasting and conflicted feelings. The link isn't subtle. Again, The Whale isn't usually subtle. For another case in point, hear: Rob Simonsen's (Ghostbusters: Afterlife) emotion-shouting score. But Fraser always conveys Charlie's pain like it's pumping through the actor's own veins, and proves devastatingly and movingly effective at balancing bright-eyed charm with piercing melancholy. While The Whale both demands and deploys Fraser's best — in tender moments, in dialogue-heavy exchanges and in his physical performance alike — it leaves ample room for Chau and Sink to make an imprint. Aronofsky may task his regular cinematographer Matthew Libatique (also a Don't Worry Darling alum) with boxing in Fraser via the constricting Academy ratio, often offering very little visible space around him, but Chau's distressed pal and Sink's cruel daughter remain pivotal to this story. What does it mean to want contentment and safety for a loved one who seeks the opposite for himself? To bear the hurt of someone else's choices? To have either your daily existence or your identity, or both, forged by another's decisions? In Chau's direct, kindhearted but quietly anguished turn, and in Sink's openly, flippantly brutal reactions as Ellie, The Whale compassionately plunges into these questions. It should come as little surprise that Aronofsky's eighth film is at its finest when it lets Fraser, Chau and Sink verbally bounce off of each other — when it's unpacking the feelings boiling in Charlie's grimly lit, amber-hued flat, and examining how every life's ups and downs ebb and flow into others. Finding insights in clashing people, attitudes and concepts is The Whale's approach in general, including in its use of darkness and light; handling of religion and salvation; survey of Charlie's internal and external suffering; and attempts to wade into stress- and binge-eating, consumption as a coping mechanism, and body-shaming responses to any departure from societal standards of beauty. Charlie himself chases meaning in the same type of chaos and contradictions, pinning his hopes as his days wane on a last-minute reunion with Ellie. In that fiery confrontation, as in every single one at the heart of The Whale, nothing is easy.
Move aside, mimosas — there's a new bottomless brunch in town and this one's all about the caffeinated cocktails. Spanish liqueur brand Licor 43 is dropping into Melbourne and teaming up with Southbank's Asado for a new limited-edition Saturday brunch session fuelled by free-flowing coffee concoctions. The Spanish and Argentinian restaurant is dishing up its Bottomless Coffee Cocktail Brunch every Saturday from February 18–March 18. For the headline act, you'll catch two different signature cocktails heroing the perfect pairing of coffee and Licor 43: the Shaken Espresso 43 and the rum-infused Tiki 43. There's also a sangria if you're not on the caffeine bandwagon. Meanwhile, you'll be feasting on a generous spread of dishes from the Asado kitchen, starring the likes of ocean trout ceviche, house-made empanadas, roast chicken with salsa brava, and dulce de leche-filled alfajores for dessert. You've got a two-hour sitting to enjoy your feed and the free-flowing cocktails, with the whole thing clocking in at $130. Tables are available to book online.
Three nights, five iconic movies, one glorious blast from the past: that's the maths behind Not-So-Silent Cinema. A collaboration between ACMI and Federation Square — and screening at the latter, too — this outdoor season showcases iconic silent films for free under the stars. Even better: they're all playing with live soundtracks. Silent cinema didn't mean ditching all sound completely a century back, after all, and it definitely doesn't now. So, while you sit in a deckchair and peer at Fed Square's big screen between Friday, December 2–Sunday, December 4, you'll be listening to something ace as you watch. Each session kicks off at 8pm, starting on Friday with 1902's science-fiction delight Le voyage dans la lune (A Trip to the Moon), which screens alongside Buster Keaton's 1922 short Cops and Milt Gross' 1930 effort He Done Her Wrong. On music duty: American-born jazz saxophonist and composer Phillip Johnston and his quartet. Then, on Saturday you can catch Carl Theodor Dreyer's influential feature 1932 Vampyr, which will get a brand-new soundtrack from Melbourne-based DJ and composer Chiara Kickdrum. And, on the Sunday, Teinosuke Kinugasa's 1926 movie A Page of Madness will play accompanied by an electronic score performed by Marcus Whale and Jacques Emery. An added bonus as part of the fun: free ice cream from Cups n Cones. There'll be gelato and sorbet, with nine flavours on offer from 7.30–9.30pm each night until they're all gone — with a limit of one per person.
Get ready to hop into the mosh pit like its the 90s and early 00s at massive alternative, metal and punk music fest Good Things, which is living up to its name with its ace 2022 lineup. Headlining the tour are Bring Me The Horizon and Deftones, plus NOFX — who'll be playing 1994's iconic album Punk In Drublic in full. They'll also be joined by The Amity Affliction, Gojira and Millencolin, spanning everything from Queensland favourites to infectious Swedish punk. Oh, and just none other than Australia's own TISM playing their first live shows in 19 years. Will TISM take to the stage naked? That's now the question of the summer. 'Tis the season — and the times in general — for Ron Hitler-Barassi and company to drop their clothes but keep their masks, after all. Whatever they're decked out in, or not, expect plenty of legendary Aussie songs. Expect to have 'Greg! The Stop Sign!', 'Whatareya' and 'Ol' Man River' stuck in your head right now as well, obviously. Good Things' impressive bill also features Kisschasy playing 2005's United Paper People in full, fellow Aussie faves Regurgitator — because, just like the 90s and 00s, it wouldn't be a festival without them — and Lacuna Coil, Soulfly, ONE OK ROCK, 3OH!3, Cosmic Psychos and more. The fest is headed to Melbourne's Flemington Racecourse on Friday, December 2. Whether you're a yob or a wanker, you'll want to be there. GOOD THINGS 2022 LINEUP: Bring Me The Horizon Deftones NOFX (performing Punk In Drublic in full) TISM The Amity Affliction Gojira ONE OK ROCK Millencolin Polaris Sabaton 3OH!3 Blood Command Chasing Ghosts Cosmic Psychos Electric Callboy Fever 333 Jinjer JXDN Kisschasy (performing United Paper People in full) Lacuna Coil Nova Twins RedHook Regurgitator Sleeping With Sirens Soulfly The Story So Far Thornhill
