Straight back in the action after this year's Edinburgh Fringe, young comedian Steen Raskopoulos has a lot going for him. Not only did he win Best Newcomer at last year's Sydney Comedy Festival, he was nominated for the same award in Edinburgh — that's a big freakin' deal. It sold out last time he was in Melbourne, but this may be your last time to see the show that's making everyone swoon. Admittedly, this isn't a show for someone who likes their humour toned down and quietly witty. This is one for those that like their characters big, their comedy physical and their suits properly double-breasted *ba dum tss*. This event was chosen as one of the top ten things to see at this year's Melbourne Fringe Festival. See the full list here.
Making a movie, even a short one, is a difficult and time-consuming process. You've got to come up with a concept, write a screenplay, find a producer, scout locations, rent equipment and hire a cast. Then you shoot it, score it, edit it, re-edit it, tweak the sound and produce the special effects. Sounds like a lot of hassle, right? Now imagine doing it all in the span of a single weekend. The filmmaking equivalent of a 100-metre dash, the idea behind the 48 Hour Film Project is simple. On the first Friday in September, more than 50 teams from around Victoria are given a prop, a character and five words of dialogue. Two days later, they submit a finished film. This year's entrants will screen at ACMI in Federation Square, over five consecutive evenings beginning Monday, September 22 (plus the awards night on Friday, October 3). So get off the couch and celebrate local filmmaking. You'll be hard-pressed to see anything this spontaneous all year.
Detective Robbie Green (Jonathan LaPaglia) is called in to investigate the murder of his former partner, Detective Jason Pearson (Luke Hemsworth). Green and his new partner, Detective Jane Lambert (Viva Bianca), find themselves on the tail of two runaways, ultra-religious cancer-ridden Rachel (Hannah Mangan Lawrence) and her unstable boyfriend, AJ (Alex Williams), who are filming a "documentary" as they seek Biblical retribution for the drug-related death of Rachel's sister. If this sounds like the type of story (and character naming conventions) of an American film circa 1993, you wouldn't be far off. The Reckoning, despite being filmed in Perth and featuring an Australian cast, feels like as if its main concern is ensuring that every element be a facsimile of US thriller tropes. LaPaglia's Green is a short-tempered alcoholic who is trying to be a good father despite being married to the job. Priests wait in candlelit gothic churches to talk wisely to those seeking guidance. High-tech, CSI-style equipment can be used to facially identify anyone spotted on a security camera. And so on. This aping isn't inherently a bad thing. Even the best Australian films are criticised for not even trying to appeal to mass audiences, and the ones that do are so often dismissed as being populist. An industry that produces as few films as ours does cannot afford sub-genres, and so there's little patience for films that are not all things to all people. So with the wider context established, let's pull back before we fall into the trap of reviewing the industry instead of the film. As a gritty crime thriller, The Reckoning is moderately successful. It's diversionary, predictable, derivative and silly, and there's no denying that there's an audience for that. It's slick, too. The kind of slickness that will make it palatable to someone who wants to have something on in the background when it finally does the home video and TV rounds. But there's little in here that would interest a modern audience looking to plonk nearly $20 down for a night out at the cinema. It's not just the story and style that feels dated, but the idea that this possesses anything to distinguish it from a thousand other similarly themed thrillers. Everything in The Reckoning is achingly American, and this would be annoying if it wasn't so obviously deliberate. This is a film with its eye firmly on international sales and goes out of its way to filter out anything that makes it feel Australian. The religious angle, for instance, is weirdly anachronistic, with a priests talking in haughty "my child" this and "the Lord says" that dialogue. Blurry number plates are zoomed in on and enhanced into the sort of clarity that only made sense about twenty years ago when nobody knew how video worked. If all this sounds like nitpicking, well, yes, it is. But it is these details that make or break a film, and with a plot that is as by-the-numbers as this one is, we rely on details to turn it into something more interesting or unique. The Reckoning is a fascinating film for all the wrong reasons. It is out of time, decades too late to be of any interest, and so desperate to cover up its country of origin that its edges are sanded down into something that is ultimately of zero consequence. https://youtube.com/watch?v=gjJgFijldaw
It's that time of year again. Art and theatre are literally spilling out of our city's theatres and galleries into the surrounding streets, laneways and bars. This year, Melbourne Fringe is densely packed with hundreds of shows over 18 solid days of programming. From September 17 - October 5, don't expect a call back from any of your creative friends. They are deep in the land of Fringe. Though the festival really has found its way all over the city, the epicentre is once again in North Melbourne. The Fringe Hub should really be referred to as the Fringe precinct or postcode — this year the hub is consistent of 10 venues and 3 bars on Errol Street and surrounds. The Fringe Club however, is a cosy little warren to be found inside North Melbourne Town Hall. If you're a little further from the northside, there's a bunch of events to be found in the CBD and a bonus performance hub at The Substation for those a little further out west. Unlike the upcoming Melbourne Festival, Fringe isn't a place you head out for a single show and make your way home again — it's a world unto itself. Catch a few works at a time, have a drink at the Fringe Club, or just drift through the night at the various satellite hubs. Whether it's dancing to a symphony of forks, a night of yelling at Joe Hockey, or an intimate set with some local indie music gods, anything you stumble upon is sure to lead to some interesting stories to tell the next day. To make things a little easier for you, we've compiled a list of the best ten things to see. If you want the full overview, check out the program at Melbourne Fringe.
Valhalla Social Cinema really understand what you want to see at the movies. You're not interested in the latest Michael Bay blockbuster. Sometimes you can't even be bothered with the latest MIFF hit. Honestly, it would be ideal if your local cinema played nothing but old, trusty Bill Murray flicks. If that sounds about right, you're going to love this weekend's programming. On Friday, September 19 and Saturday, September 20 Valhalla are presenting the The Weekend of Wes. Screening Bottle Rocket, Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums for $13 a pop, not only is this a great time to re-live Wes's pre-Budapest glory, it's the perfect opportunity to rock that crested navy blazer and don your wanky beret. No, it's not officially a costumed event, but we'll basically jump at any chance to dress up like Max Fischer or Margot Tenenbaum. Unsurprisingly tickets are selling fast. Best to secure your seat online before you head over in a full fur coat.
The Melbourne show for Kanye West’s Yeezus Tour is fast approaching, but before you go HAM at Rod Laver Arena, the good guys at Rooftop Bar are throwing an all-things-Kanye themed party. The inaugural (and free) Kanye Westival is a celebration of Yeezy being the stylish, provocative and self-proclaimed demigod that he is. DJs for the evening include Fletch, Gamegirl, FashGIF, Baby Bonus, YUNG JACU$$I and SET LIST. A montage of Kanye’s epic video clips will be screened throughout the evening, and let’s be honest, there are some great ones to choose from. There will also be Kustom Kanye Kut-out photo backdrops so you can get snapped living the good life with 'Ye. BYO croissants.
Dig out those once-a-year novelty gumboots, Groovin the Moo is back for another year of out-of-the-city footstomping. Taking the large-scale music festival out of CBDs and into regional centres for another year, GTM will kick things off on the ANZAC Day long weekend and travel through Oakbank, Bunbury, Bendigo, Canberra, Maitland, and Townsville. This year's lineup sees syper-hyped internationals like the legendary Peaches, 'Boom Clap'-per Charli XCX, A$AP Mob's A$AP Ferg US trap king RL Grime, UK indie-gazers Peace and NZ festival favourites Broods alongside one of the most Aussie-heavy lineups GTM has seen in recent years. High-fiveworthy locals like Flight Facilities, The Preatures, Sticky Fingers, Hermitude, DMAs, Tkay Maidza, Ball Park Music, Meg Mac and more will also make their way to the Moo. So enough lowing, here's that lineup you're after. GROOVIN THE MOO 2015 LINEUP: A$AP FERG (USA) BALL PARK MUSIC BROODS (NZ) CARMADA CHARLI XCX (UK) THE DELTA RIGGS DMAs FLIGHT FACILITIES HERMITUDE HILLTOP HOODS HOT DUB TIME MACHINE MEG MAC NORTHLANE ONE DAY PEACHES (CAN) PEACE (UK) THE PREATURES RL GRIME (USA) SAN CISCO SASKWATCH STICKY FINGERS TKAY MAIDZA WOLFMOTHER YOU ME AT SIX (UK) GROOVIN THE MOO 2015 DATES & VENUES: Saturday, April 25 – Oakbank Sunday, April 26 – Bunbury Saturday, May 2 – Bendigo Sunday, May 3 – Canberra Saturday, May 9 – Maitland Sunday, May 10 – Townsville For more info, head to GTM's website. Image: Joseph Mayers, GTM.
It doesn't matter how good your cast is if you don't give them a compelling story to tell. That's the lesson of My Old Lady, the motion picture debut of playwright Israel Horovitz. An obvious stage-to-screen adaptation that shows little consideration to the differences between the two, it's a film so stuffy and slow-moving that it makes its geriatric headliner look positively spritely by comparison. The great Maggie Smith plays the old dame in the title, a 92-year-old British expatriate named Mathilde Gerard, who lives in a spacious Parisian apartment thanks to a peculiar French real-estate law called a viager. Under the arrangement, Madame Gerard receives regular cash instalments from a buyer, who will eventually gain full ownership of the property when the old lady finally dies. It's a fantastic deal for her, but a right pain in the arse for Matthias Gold (Kevin Kline), a deadbeat New Yorker who inherits the building in his estranged father's will. So Matthias skulks around Paris, trying to figure out a way to sell his newfound property while contending with his stubborn new tenant and her hostile adult daughter, Chloe (Kristen Scott Thomas). But soon the comic setup gives way to something much more serious. Information comes to light regarding the relationship between Matthias' father and Gerard, unscrewing the lid on a can of Daddy Issues in the process. It's interesting subject matter, to be sure. The problem is that Horovitz doesn't know how to translate his material to the screen. A vast majority of the truly relevant action takes place inside Gerard's apartment — and no number of aimless shots of Paris can disguise the film's origins on the stage. The dialogue itself feels better suited to the theatre as well, with a number of theatrical monologues in the movies' second half running unnecessarily long. At least it goes without saying that all three of the film's main actors are fantastic. Frankly, it's hard to think of a single bad performance across their entire combined body of work. In truth though, none of their characters are particularly easy to like, each one of them consumed by a mixture of blind entitlement and self-pity. That's the other lesson to be learned from My Old Lady. When a film's central conflict comes down to bickering over a $9 million deed, it's difficult to feel much sympathy for anyone involved.
Alaskan-bred, Portland-based indie foursome Portugal. The Man will be hitting the road for an epic string of Australian dates this November. We're talking a whopping 25 shows — and all free. Presented by Corona Extra, the tour kicks off in Western Australia on October 31 and travels through Queensland, New South Wales and Victoria before finishing up in Melbourne on November 30. With seven albums under their belt — including their most recent, Danger Mouse-produced, 2013 album Evil Friends — and playing up to 200 shows a year since they started, Portugal. The Man aren't ones to shy away from a long touring stint. They're big ol' festival favourites, making highlight lists at all the big guns from Coachella, Lollapalooza to Laneway Festival and Splendour. After their huge US tour wraps up, the foursome are going to bring their psychedelic, indie outdoorsiness to Australia's snuggly pubs and bars. Corona's last epic Australian tour saw Sydney's beloved Cloud Control hit the road for an unfathomable amount of free shows, so we'll see how the Portland locals go with such a schedule. Get along, burl out 'Got It All', 'Evil Friends' and 'So American' like you're front and centre for a P.TM festival set. It's freakin' free. Victoria Friday, 28 November — Torquay Hotel, Bell St, Torquay at 9pm. Saturday, 29 November — Westernport Hotel, 161 Marine Pde, San Remo at 9pm. Sunday, 30 November — The Deck, 2-4 Davey St, Frankston at 8.30pm. All tour dates are 18+ only and free entry. More info here. https://youtube.com/watch?v=EITwxJrZKj0
Romantic comedy cliches have earned their label for a reason; the more they're used, the more expected they become. And so it's that films like Love, Rosie emerge, wholly comprised of the seen-before and the been-there-done-that, as rendered with similarly customary sweetness. Here's the gist: girl and boy have clear feelings for each other, but are forced to stumble through a range of obstacles. Even if you've only ever seen one rom-com, you know where this is going. Rosie Dunne (Lily Collins) is an average 18-year-old girl. She's about to finish school and looking forward to a future certain to include her neighbour and lifelong best pal, Alex (Sam Claflin). There's a spark to their friendship that suggests something more, however when they take others to the prom — he escorts Bethany (Suki Waterhouse), and she goes with Greg (Christian Cooke) — it appears fate has other plans. The night has long-lasting repercussions pushing them in different directions. Alex moves to the US for medical school and after falling pregnant, single mother Rosie stays in the UK. Of course, they keep in touch. Cecelia Ahern's best-selling novel Where Rainbows End, upon which Love, Rosie is based, relates its tale through the pair's emails, letters and texts. The film uses the gimmick to a lesser extent, but their correspondence still guides a feature that charts the will-they-or-won't-they of this unconventional long distance relationship. Director Christian Ditter (best known for French for Beginners) and screenwriter Juliette Towhidi (Calendar Girls) don't stray far from the source material, nor do they need to. When it comes to cloying romantic plots, Ahern literally wrote the book. What good rom-coms do well, the most predictable included, is cultivate investment in the central couple. And even when forced into silly situations and saddled with stereotypes, Collins and Claflin are suitably charming, selling the camaraderie central to their close platonic relationship, as well as the uncertainty needed to make their 12-year flirtation endearing. They're the bright sparks in an effort otherwise happy with obviousness. You can count on picturesque imagery, heavy-handed pop cues, and tonal wobbling between contemplative drama and over-the-top comedy. Having each actor play their characters from ages 18 to 30 never quite convinces, but that's a minor issue. That's the film all over — never believable, constantly trite, but endlessly likeable. It's also the rom-com prescription in willingly evoking a necessary wish-fulfillment fantasy. Soppily telling tales of yearning loves and lives dictated by wanting what you can't have, Love, Rosie seemingly aims to be a younger-oriented successor of Bridget Jones' Diary. In its focus on its messy but spirited heroine, its lacings of cringeworthy humour and its adherence to genre formula, it doesn't miss the uninspired mark. https://youtube.com/watch?v=cweASWVpkVM
There's an unshakable sense of menace throughout the low-key mob movie The Drop that lifts it above the outward cliches of its story. Then again, that's hardly surprising, given it was written by Dennis Lehane. The American crime novelist responsible for Mystic River, Shutter Island and Gone Baby Gone — books whose subsequent film adaptations rank amongst the best big-screen potboilers of the past 20 years — Lehane's mastery of the blue-collar crime genre is second to none. And, while his screenplay for The Drop doesn't quite reach the same impressive heights, it's a thoroughly compelling drama all the same. The story takes place, as Lehane's stories tend to do, in a working class microcosm in the north-east US. In this case it's Cousin Marv's bar, a grimy Brooklyn watering hole run by a bitter old barkeep whose name sits on the sign above the door. In reality, however, the bar hasn't belonged to Marv (the late great James Gandolfini) since he was muscled out by the Chechen mafia, who now use it as one of several collection points — or "drop bars" — for all of their ill-gotten cash. When the bar is robbed by a pair of desperate stickup men, Marv and his unflappable bartender Bob (Tom Hardy) are tasked with recovering the money. At the same time, Bob find himself caught up in the life of local waitress Nadia (Noomi Rapace) after rescuing a wounded dog left abandoned in her front yard. What Bob doesn't count on is the attention of Nadia's unhinged ex-boyfriend Eric (Matthias Schoenaerts), a local crim who, if rumours can be trusted, has a habit of making people disappear. How the storylines intertwine... well, that would be telling. Belgian director Michael R. Roskam is a skilled hand behind the camera, but it's easier to identify the influence of Lehane: the decaying urban setting, the unspoken threats of violence, the characters all speaking in thick, working class drawls. So too can you locate the DNA of earlier crime pics. Bob's frequent trips to a local Catholic church call to mind Scorsese's prototypical gangster movie Mean Streets; the theft of mob money, meanwhile, was the catalyst in the recent Andrew Dominik joint Killing Them Softly. As such, The Drop can at times feel a little familiar. But the strength of Lehane's screenplay lies in the information he keeps obscured. His characters' pasts remain shrouded in mystery, leaving you constantly unsure of how far they're willing to go. The star of Roskam's previous film Bullhead, Schoenaerts radiates danger in every scene. Likewise Gandolfini, whose portrayal of a washed-up tough guy reminds us just how big a talent the actor was. It's Hardy, however, who really steals the show. At first, his character strikes us as a gentle giant; a nice guy caught up in a situation he can't control. But as the movie goes on, we're forced to look again. There's something deeply unsettling about the way Bob never seems phased, even as his situation spirals further out of control. As always, that's the appeal of Lehane's writing. Things are never quite what they appear. https://youtube.com/watch?v=9xAKTGPbhQk
The winner of this year's Cannes Film Fest Palm d'Or is an exercise in movie-going endurance. Written and directed by celebrated Turkish filmmaker Nuri Bilge Ceylan, Winter Sleep clocks in at a gruelling 196 minutes long, a figure that makes the most recent Hobbit flick look positively breezy by comparison. Frankly, only the most committed of arthouse nerds should even attempt Ceylan's latest — and even they may find themselves struggling with the picture's slow-as-molasses pace. Indeed, despite his film's epic run time, Ceylan appears committed to keeping actual dramatic incident to a minimum. Concerned, at its core, with the erosion of the marriage between a conceited old hotel owner (Haluk Bilgine) and his miserable young wife (Melisa Sozen), Winter Sleep at times feels more like a stage play than a movie. Characters argue at inordinate lengths about marriage, money, philanthropy, class and the nature of good and evil. Then they argue some more. The topics that Ceylan sets out to explore are certainly intriguing. In its best moments, Winter Sleep calls to mind the likes of A Separation and Two Days, One Night — films in which the dialogue cuts not just to the hearts of the characters, but to the issues facing the society in which those characters live. At other points, however, Ceylan's writing becomes strained, laying out his themes in painfully literal language, as if we can't be trusted to understand them on our own. On a more unequivocally positive note, Gokhan Tiryaki's cinematography is genuinely stunning. Under the harsh, grey-white light of foreboding winter skies, the Anatolian landscape seems almost otherworldly. Equally beautiful are several night-time interior scenes, the flickering glow from the fireplace casting shadows across the walls. Even so, it's difficult to get past that ridiculous three-hour run time, which drags behind the film like a ball and chain. Ironically, most of the truly compelling content can be found in the movie's second half. The problem is that, by the time you get there, there's a good chance that your brain will have already checked out. https://youtube.com/watch?v=P1nQbYtTPQg
You may not have heard of it before, but Wednesday, December 3 marks the United Nations International Day of People with Disability. Not coincidentally, it's also the first day of The Other Film Festival, one of the largest film festivals on the face of the earth catering specifically to people with disabilities. Hosted in the Melbourne Brain Centre on Royal Parade, the films across the five-day program include shorts, documentaries and features from all around the world, complete with captioning and audio description options, wheelchair accessible seating and water bowls for seeing-eye dogs. Opening night of the festival features the standout documentary Fixed, about radical advances in medical technology meant to enhance the human body. Another sure highlight, if you can handle the grim subject matter, is Canadian documentary Out of Mind, Out of Sight, which explores what happens to people with mental illness who have committed violent crimes. Classic film buffs can also get their fix with a not-so-silent-screening of the iconic 1922 vampire movie Nosferatu, in which audience members provide live audio description for the blind. Yes please. For the full TOFF program, visit their website.
It’s exciting times in the Missy Higgins camp right now. Firstly, there’s a baby on the way, due in early January. Secondly, she has a new album, a collection of essays, and a national tour right around the corner. Though the album is titled OZ it's far from your average Great Australian Songbook – that would be too easy and, to be honest, a little unoriginal. In the end, Higgins went with songs by esteemed Australian songwriter she was convinced she could make her own. She calls the results "a real mixed bag of lollies". Sounds delicious. A few of the songs featured in OZ include Paul Kelly’s 'Before Too Long', The Drones’ 'Shark Fin Blues', and The Go Betweens’ 'Was There Anything I Could Do?' The essays Higgins has written to accompany the album are supposed to go hand in hand with the songs she has chosen, but obviously if you want to enjoy them separately, you have her permission to go for it. Fans of Higgins’ original material needn’t be disappointed; 'Scar', 'The Special Two' and 'Everyone’s Waiting' are all likely to make an appearance during her national tour. The eerie yet majestic singer/songwriter Dustin Tebbutt, as well as OZ collaborator Jherek Bischoff will join Higgins during her national tour. This might be your last chance to catch Missy Higgins live for a while, and OZ looks like a wonderful world we can’t wait to get lost in.
With a young man immersed in underworld dealings and learning life lessons along the way, there's no mistaking Son of a Gun's fondness for standard crime caper cliches. The film begins with prison hierarchies, navigates a jailbreak and daring heist, and dallies with ruthless Russian mobsters. It also traverses romance and a complicated mentor-protegee relationship, just in case its adherence to formula wasn't apparent. And yet, in wholeheartedly embracing genre basics, complete with the accompanying twists, Julius Avery's debut focuses on execution and performance over plot and story to exceed the sum of its obvious parts. That's not to say that the movie's narrative isn't engaging; however, it is in its eye for action and its finessed portrayals that Son of a Gun best impresses. Nineteen-year-old JR (Brenton Thwaites) enters his six-month stay in a maximum-security facility with a warning to keep out of trouble, though the resident bullies have other plans. Veteran inmate Brendan (Ewan McGregor) becomes his saviour, but his help has consequences: JR must return the favour upon his release. Extricating Brendan and his right-hand man (Matt Nable) from prison is the first step. Next, assisting the convicted armed robber in doing what he does best. Writer/director Avery came to fame courtesy of his 2008 short Jerrycan, a Cannes Film Festival award winner. His first feature has been eagerly awaited since, and in its bright lensing of the Western Australian landscape, moody score from Snowtown and The Babadook's Jed Kurzel, and sustaining of tension, it proves worthy of such anticipation. Avery shows a knack for set pieces and a mastery of pace and tone that keeps Son of a Gun moving, patching over its lack of surprises and extended length. From the sombre drama of its jail-set opening to the cat-and-mouse chases that follow in helicopter hijackings, car chases, boat rides and stand-offs, the filmmaker crafts a competent, compelling thriller. Otherwise, casting is the film's biggest strength, from Thwaites' second role in succession as a naive pawn awakening into a position of influence after The Giver, to A Royal Affair's Alicia Vikander as his potential love interest. Of course, it is the star power of McGregor, complementing his usual cheeky grin with a menacing glint in his eye, that rightfully commands attention. Although appearing to play against type, his charming wrongdoer isn't that far removed from his morally dubious breakout role in Trainspotting, complete with his natural accent. Indeed, McGregor's fate mirrors that of the film, never straying far from the familiar, but doing so with energy and aplomb. Son of a Gun may be another gritty Australian crime offering, but it is also an enthusiastic, expressive and engrossing example of its genre. https://youtube.com/watch?v=eTOBcelRo9M
Time to start sleuthing through all of the internet. Converse are hosting a series of amazing A-list gigs in Melbourne, Sydney and New Zealand, and they're hiding tickets where you'll least expect them. So far we know that The Vines — who are all about the freebies lately — and Bloods are playing a free show somewhere in Melbourne on Wednesday, October 22; Remi and Collarbones are hitting up Sydney the following night; and a fresh lineup is heading over to New Zealand soon after. Oh, and we have your first clue. Converse sneakily posted an ad on Seek for a casual "fist pumper". "This temporary, one night only, position is open for a front row fist pumper at a free gig," the ad read. "The successful applicant will show a willingness to party in the front row of the mosh pit ... [They also must] appreciate the epic sounds of bands, The Vines and Bloods". In case you haven't worked it out already, this is your ticket. If you're from Melbourne and maintain any of the above characteristics, we highly recommend applying for this job. They're currently taking "applications" for the position at hey@converse.com.au, but maybe trade in a full cover letter for a few photos of you in the mosh. This is possibly the only time making a resume link to your Facebook photos is a good thing. UPDATE: We can now reveal the show will be held at Ding Dong Lounge at 8pm. Check out the Converse Facebook page for more details on how to get tickets.
UK label Defected Records throw epic dance parties worldwide all year round. This time around, Melbourne is the target; with Defected In The House set for New Year's Day. International DJs Oliver Dollar, Franky Rizardo, Sonny Fodera and Crazy P are among the special guests, as well as supports from Simon Digby, Steve Bleas, APAP and more. Considering Defected In The House hosts regular nights at London's Ministry of Sound, Singapore's Zouk and Pacha in Ibiza, if house music is your thing you couldn't get 2015 off to a better start.
Straight from the Design Museum in London, this new exhibition at the RMIT Design Hub is definitely one to get you thinking. Interrogating our changing relationship with manufacturing and production, The Future is Here is about to take a diverse look at the new technologies that are coming to shape us. Exploring 3D printing, nanotechnology and digitally networked marketplaces, the thinkers and makers behind the works on show make their case for an exciting future that's unfolding right in front of us. From August 28 until October 11, the RMIT Design Hub will be showcasing the works of local design research projects and work from the original exhibition in London. Alisa Andrasek's noteworthy project 'Bloom' will also be on display. Seen in London during the 2012 Olympics, this "urban toy" and "collective gardening experience" that looks like a giant pink feather boa asks audiences to mould, shape and build different formations from the separate hot pink elements of the structure. By asking people to interact with the object, 'Bloom' demonstrates a new method for production — one that is crowd-sourced and unpredictable. The exhibition will also be accompanied by a series of lectures and talks from those involved. Andrasek will be hosting a free lecture on Friday, August 29. And, if you'd like a free rundown of the show before checking it out for yourself, Design Museum curator Alex Newson will be speaking prior to the exhibition opening on Thursday, August 28 from 12-1pm.
In a brilliant display of sequins, stilettos and some sexy short shorts, we were fortunate enough to have The Rocky Horror Picture Show performed live in Melbourne earlier this year. But what if you missed out? What if you can't get enough? Or what if — worst of all — you are yet to experience The Rocky Horror Picture Show in all of its cultish glory? Fear not, your chance to jump to the left (and then step to the right) is right around the corner. Hosted by the Oz Horror Con group, Rocky the film version of TRHPS will be screened at Backlot Studios in Southbank, featuring appropriately leather seating and an impressive sound system. The interactive Rocky Horror Picture show hinges around getting the audience involved, from singing along to 'Sweet Transvestite' to dressing up as your favourite character. There will be plenty of opportunities to shout out the lines and stand up for a few rounds of the 'Time Warp', so be prepared to throw your whole self into the spectacle. We see you shiver with anticip… pation. https://youtube.com/watch?v=sg-vgGuTD8A
A crotchety old man gets a new lease of life when he becomes the reluctant babysitter to the 12-year-old kid next door. Sounds pretty unbearable, until you factor in that the old man is played by Bill Murray. Pushing 65, the star of Ghostbusters, Stripes and Groundhog Day is looking a little on the tired side but soon proves he's lost none of his caustic charm. In St Vincent he's vinegar, adding just enough acidity to a screenplay that without him would have been sickeningly sweet. Vincent MacKenna (Murray) is a classic movie curmudgeon. He drinks like a fish, smokes like a chimney, and gambles like a man who has nothing left to lose. The closest thing he has to a friend, aside from his Persian cat Felix, is a foul-mouthed Russian prostitute (Naomi Watts), who may or may not be pregnant with his child. He's an unfeeling bastard, and the last person in the world you'd want taking care of your impressionable primary school-aged son. Unfortunately for his new next door neighbour Maggie (Melissa McCarthy), he's literally the only choice she has. St Vincent isn't what you'd call a groundbreaking holiday comedy. First-time writer-director Theodore Melfi has no shortage of funny dialogue but shows little interesting in straying away from his conventional narrative formula. Friendships are made. Lessons are learnt. Obvious set-ups lead to unsurprising payoffs, and everyone gets home in time for dinner. What sets the movie apart, primarily, is the quality of its cast. After years of retreading her Bridesmaids shtick, McCarthy finally gets the chance to play an actual human being; her turn as Maggie helps keep the film grounded, sympathetic but still genuinely funny. Chris O'Dowd, meanwhile, gets some great lines as a glib Catholic priest — and although Watts' Russian accent is pretty unconvincing, it's always fun to see her trying her hand at a comedy. Unsurprisingly, however, the highlight of the film is Murray. While this is a character the actor could comfortably play in his sleep, there's never the slightest indication that Murray is phoning it in. His dynamic with newcomer Jaeden Lieberher makes for one of the most enjoyable on-screen pairings of 2014; frankly, what kid wouldn't want Bill Murray for a babysitter? Yet despite first appearances, this is not a purely comedic performance. There's a loneliness to Vincent that Murray absolutely nails; a pair of scenes in which he visits his dementia-afflicted wife may very well bring audiences to tears. So too the ending, which although incredibly predictable, is so damn well executed that it's difficult not to forgive. And really, that's this movie in a nutshell. Like Vincent himself, you love it in spite of its obvious flaws.
His outfits have been the talk of the fashion world for decades. Now, you can get a glimpse of his work on the silver screen. Programmed as part of The Fashion World of Jean Paul Gaultier at the National Gallery of Victoria, this free, six-hour film marathon reveals the designer at his most playful and outlandish. The day begins with a bang, with Pedro Almadovar's flamboyant, sexually explicit comedy Kika, about an aspiring actress turned beautician caught up in a sordid tabloid scandal. Next comes The City of Lost Children, a dark sci-fi fantasy from Amelie director Jean-Pierre Jeunet. The marathon wraps up with Luc Besson's futuristic action flick The Fifth Element, starring Bruce Willis as the best dressed cab driver in the galaxy. Get your orange wigs at the ready, this is one trip to the movies that's impossible to overdress for.
Russia’s nomination to the 2014 Foreign Language Oscar race is every bit as slow and imposing as its title would suggest. Ostensibly named for the enormous blue whales whose bones scatter the shoreline of the small coastal town of Pribrezhny, the name Leviathan more readily refers to the unfeeling, unyielding behemoth of the Russian bureaucracy that devours everything in its path. Acclaimed director Andrey Zvyagintsev does a masterful job capturing the misery of life under such a corrupt and broken system. Of course, whether that’s something you actually want to watch is a different question entirely. Don’t get us wrong: there’s plenty to appreciate about Zvyagintsev’s latest feature. Chief among them would be the raw, brutish performance of Aleksey Serebryakov. A mainstay of the Russian screen industry, Serebryakov plays Kolya, a quick-tempered auto mechanic who runs afoul of Pribrezhny’s mayor (played by Roman Madyanov), who wants to seize the valuable headland currently occupied by Kolya’s house. In order to fight back, Kolya calls on Dimitriy (Vladimir Vdovichenkov), a friend from his days in the army and now a high-powered lawyer in Moscow. Through Kolya’s struggle, Zvyagintsev presents viewers with a scathing critique of contemporary Russian society — a grim, vodka-soaked landscape of dodgy politicians with little concern for the citizens who put them in office. It’s compelling for a time, in a depressing sort of way, watching the poor, emasculated Kolya gain inches only to be set back miles. Those hoping that the prevalence of religious imagery might signal a David and Goliath ending are likely to leave the cinema disappointed. The hopelessness of Kolya's situation is reflected in the work of cinematographer Mikhail Krichman, who favours wide lenses, static camera work and a colour palette overpowered by greys. Unfortunately, as Leviathan plods past the two hour mark, you too may begin to feel overpowered. For all his insight, Zvyagintsev isn’t trading in a particularly nuanced brand of bleakness, his message driven home with all the dull, repetitive pounding of a sledgehammer, or waves crashing endlessly on the shore. Leviathan is arduous by design. But that’s little conciliation when you’re struggling to sit through it.
It outraged tyrants, terrified theatre chains and knocked one of Hollywood's most powerful executives
There's a slight fuzz in the air on the East Coast. Twangy surf pop and singalong garage punk are teaming up in a predicted humdinger of a co-headlining tour — Brisbane charmers Major Leagues and Sydney's rascally trio Bloods have joined forces for one rambunctious escapade. Offering up gems from their Weird Season EP as well as snippets from their upcoming debut album, Major Leagues have had major deal signings and huge festival appearances on their plate over the last year. Bloods have their own reason to celebrate. Their latest single 'Want It' (to be officially launched on the tour) offers the sneakiest peek into their upcoming debut album, a hotly-anticipated LP set for release through brand new independent Sydney label Tiny Galaxy. Meandering into Shebeen on Thursday, July 3, the double team of fuzz, feedback and fun will throw down fast and furious sets one after the other. So gear up in your most easily toe-tappable, hair-thrashable threads and get a healthy dose of fuzz in your earholes, this one's going to be a right royal shindig. https://youtube.com/watch?v=_AZJ9B95sMQ
Still rubbing their eyes from a two-month-long European tour, Sydney post-rock outfit, sleepmakeswaves, are hoping to wake up their Aussie fans with a national tour. In celebration of their second album, Love of Cartography, the lyricless four-piece will bring their heavy riffage and delay pedals to nine different cities over this July and August with support from Breaking Orbit and Teal. After two years touring across the globe and supporting the likes of Karnivool, Dead Letter Circus and 65daysofstatic, sleepmakeswaves thought it was time to channel their new experiences into a new album. The humble lads turned to Pozible and their dedicated fan base to raise some funds (which they did) and then dutifully thanked them for their support, despite their self-confessed "weirdness and lack of vocals". Ahhh-dorable. The first taste of sleepmakeswaves’ newest music in two years — 'Something Like Avalanches' — was premiered on triple j last month and you’ll be able to hear more of their epic instrumental tunes when Love of Cartography is released in Australia on 4 July. Gives you just enough time to practice their lyrics— oh wait.
The NGV may be revelling in the old masters this month but, just down the road, ACCA is still flying that contemporary flag high. Douglas Gordon has been on the scene for decades now, but his work is still as innovative as ever. Perched at the intersection of pop culture and high art, Gordon is a Young British Artist with a love for film and photographic installation, and a whole load of art world swag to boot. Gordon's most famous for his 1993 work 24 Hour Psycho — an edited version of Alfred Hitchcock's classic slowed to a pace of 2 frames per second. He's also collaborated with Rufus Wainwright, won the coveted Turner Prize, and represented Scotland at the Venice Biennale. In this rare outing to Australia we see a selection of works from the artist's now well-established career. Some original, and some admittedly owing to Martin Scorsese. A walk through the sparse rooms at ACCA this month will be like stepping through the looking glass — expect a lot of manipulated images and one creepily young Robert De Niro.
What's better than a sweet weekend treat? A whole marketplace filled with locally made baked goods. And that's exactly what's happening at the Baker's Exchange, which will see the city's top pastry, bread and cake maestros descend on three Melbourne locations for a series of tasty weekends this July. After a two-year hiatus, Hank Marvin Market's roving bake market returns to Melbourne this winter, hitting Moorabbin's Kingston City Hall on July 6 and 7, Woolstore + Co in North Melbourne on July 13 and 14, and Ripponlea Primary School on July 20 and 21. It's pulling together a freshly baked lineup featuring some of the city's best-loved local bakers, including 5 & Dime, Violet & Zaza, N'Cannoulou, Cobb Lane Bakery and Butter Mafia. Get ready to sink your teeth into innovative treats like The Hamptons Bakery's scrambled egg, porcini and truffle breakfast doughnut, and the oozy, raclette-filled roll from Swiss Made. Of course, you'll also find plenty of classic creations, from oven-fresh sourdough breads to gluten-free doughnuts and perfectly chewy cookies. There'll be face-painting and kids' fun for the littlies, while grown-ups can match their eats to fresh juices, Hallelujah Coffee and maybe even a glass or two of bubbly. Entry is $2, with proceeds going to charity. Baker's Exchange is open from 9am–1pm and heading to Kingston City Hall, 979–985 Nepean Highway, Moorabbin from July 6–7; Woolstore + Co, 64 Sutton Street, North Melbourne, from July 13–14; and Ripponlea Primary School, 25 Carrington Grove, St Kilda East, from July 20–21. Image: The Vegan Shack
More than once in Farming, Enitan stares into a mirror and loathes his reflection. Born in Britain to Nigerian parents, fostered out to a white working-class family and constantly taunted about his race, he even tries to scrub away his darker pigment while glaring daggers at himself. When that doesn't work, the boy (Zephan Amissah) cakes his skin in talcum powder, such is his desperation to see anything but his usual likeness looking back. By the time that Eni becomes a teenager (now played by Damson Idris), his self-hating gaze has solidified, and yet it has also taken on a different tone. As he peers forward, he shaves his head, buttons up his collared shirt and pops his suspenders over his shoulders, all to fit in with the local skinheads. Farming depicts Eni peering intently at a mirror again and again for a reason: no matter which cruel names are spat his way, the feature makes plain that it's his own opinion of himself that matters most. Sadly, he internalises the surrounding resentment and prejudice, so that's all that he can see in his own reflection. But, the fact that Farming even exists is proof that something changes. The film itself is a mirror — and in a more literal sense than most movies. Written and directed by Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, this picture relays the actor-turned-filmmaker's own childhood. Known as Enitan as a kid, he once tried to scratch off his own skin, then joined forces with the very thugs that made his life hell — and now, after a two-decade on-screen career that's seen him feature in everything from Oz, Lost and Game of Thrones to The Bourne Identity, Thor: The Dark World and Suicide Squad, he shares that story. In Farming, Akinnuoye-Agbaje's tale begins with the actor and director playing his own father, Femi — who, alongside his wife Tolu (Genevieve Nnaji), is tearfully handing over baby Enitan to Ingrid Carpenter (Kate Beckinsale). It's 1967, and the practice that gives the movie its moniker is common. Kids like Eni are left with white families while their birth parents study and find work, with couples such as Femi and Tolu hoping their children will get better opportunities in the process. As Farming steps through Eni's Essex-based youth, showing him weather threats from Ingrid and torment from everyone else around him, it demonstrates the impact of this decision — a hard choice made with love by the people who brought him into the world, and one with significant repercussions. Eni transforms from a smiling infant, to a shy kid happily lost in his own head, to a self-loathing outcast who believes that his only path forward is to embrace the hatred he keeps being made to wear like a second skin. In scenes such as the aforementioned soap and talcum powder incidents, it's clear that Farming is directed by an actor, as well as by someone with a personal stake in this bleak and challenging story. This is a highly physical and expressive film that often feels like memories transposed onto the screen — and frequently highlights strikingly framed images and visceral, palpable emotions over dialogue. Thankfully, that's a mode that suits the talented Idris, who takes on that most difficult of tasks: not only playing a real-life figure, but playing the teen-aged version of his director. Raw pain doesn't just burn in his eyes, but infects every move that he makes, whether Eni is lashing out at his self-centred foster mother, himself or the only person (Gugu Mbatha-Raw, in a one-note role as a kindly teacher) who sees past his skin colour. That said, Farming is also a forceful movie — building its confronting, compelling tale one horrific moment at a time, and hitting as bluntly as the blows directed Eni's way. As a boy, he may turn his skin a shade of grey, but the movie he's in only paints in black and white. Of course, that's how this experience clearly felt to Akinnuoye-Agbaje. There's nothing subtle about being told by your foster mother that you come from 'Wooga-Wooga Land', or being expected to grin through daily teasing from neighbourhood kids, or getting stripped naked and spray-painted with racist statements by the Tilbury Skins, after all. There's nothing nuanced about Eni's time among his violent bullies, either, where he's treated like a pet by vicious leader Levi (John Dagleish) and never considered an equal, even as he desperately hopes otherwise. It's tough viewing, but Farming's great achievement — like the hallmark British race-relations drama of the 21st century, This Is England — springs from its willingness to stare unflinchingly at its grim contents. That Akinnuoye-Agbaje treats his adult successes as a mere footnote is telling; who he has since become is important, but what he endured to get there, and the ugly attitudes he faced that still echo today, are far more vital. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xWwFfT5jak
The latest exhibition at Grau Projekt — Clifton Hills' relatively new art gallery and warehouse bar by famed Melbourne artist and bartender Matt Bax — is a collaborative, multifaceted show by five contemporary Thai artists who are now living in Australia. Dubbed Un-Thaid, the exhibition runs from June 13 till July 27 and includes live performance, painting, ceramics, sculptures and video installations. The artists collectively explore their shared experiences of immigration and diaspora in their works. Curated by Vipoo Srivilasa, the show features Pimpisa Tinpalit's large-scale installation of a queen bed hung shibari-style with black rope from the ceiling, Phaptawan Suwannakudt's series of paintings combining native Australian flora and Thai elephants, and large-scale stencil works that draw inspiration from both pop art and graffiti by Bundit Puangthong. Ceramicist Somchai Charoen has also created colourful, fragile porcelain sculptures for the show, while Nakarin Aron Jaikla's brings mesmerising video works combining dance, Buddhism and Thai folklore. As the gallery's founder Matt Bax is not only an artist, but also an accomplished bartender, expect big things on the drinks side of things, too. A different (interactive) cocktail menu accompanies each exhibition, with the previous incarnation featuring a drink that you rolled a dice to complete. The cocktails are available at the opening night and Trink Think Tours, which run every Thursday and Friday. The Un-Thaid launch event runs from 5.30–8.30pm on Thursday, June 13. You can nab tickets to it here — $35 tickets include entry, one cocktail and the chance to see a live performance by artist Nakarin Aron Jaikla. Top image: Bundit Puangthong, Uni Nature Friends (2019)
Stan & Ollie begins with a glorious shot — an image that's strikingly composed, and that couldn't better encapsulate the film to come. Comedians Stan Laurel (Steve Coogan) and Oliver Hardy (John C. Reilly) sit in their shared Hollywood dressing room in 1937, bantering away in their playful, genial manner. Their backs are to the camera but, as they're both perched before individual mirrors, their faces are reflected in lights at either side of the frame. Stan's thinner visage smirks wryly from the mirror in front of the more jovial, sizeable Ollie, and vice versa. Director Jon S. Baird enjoys the affectionate interplay between the two comic stars, and gazes at them just as fondly. Most importantly, the filmmaker visually signifies the enormous presence that his two subjects had in each other's life. Worlds away from his last movie, the drug-addled Irvine Welsh adaptation Filth, Baird returns to comparable moments throughout Stan & Ollie. Just as the eponymous pair were at their professional best when they were together, the film shines brightest when it looks upon the two in tender exchanges. When Stan sits side-by-side with an ailing Ollie in a hotel bed, and when the duo recline on the deck of a ship against a sunset backdrop, Stan & Ollie offers an ode not only to their enduring partnership, but to the pull they felt towards each other. That's the entire picture from start to finish — however there's a particular heart-swelling sensitivity evident in these loving scenes. After spending its opening minutes on-set during the making of comedy-western Way Out West, Stan & Ollie jumps forward to 1953, when the pair's fame has faded and their double-act has nearly fractured. Reuniting after a rocky parting over contract matters, they embark on a tour of the United Kingdom largely to boost the chances of making their first film in years. But half-empty crowds in second-tier venues await, as does the scheming of an uncaring promoter, bickering between their wives (Shirley Henderson and Nina Arianda), and more than a decade of unspoken feelings about the way things have panned out. It hardly helps that, as the two ruminate upon what they had and what could've been since, they're continually met with astonishment from ordinary punters who didn't realise they were still alive. Given cinema's penchant for biopics — half of this year's Oscar acting contenders are nominated for playing real-life figures — it's surprising that Laurel and Hardy's story hasn't graced the silver screen before. Better late than never, obviously, with screenwriter Jeff Pope (also a writer on the Coogan-starring Philomena) penning the filmic equivalent of a warm hug for two of the industry's bona fide icons. There's no escaping Stan & Ollie's kindly, laudatory tone, but it's thoroughly deserved. While the zany vaudeville energy that the duo are known for only comes through in recreations of select routines, Coogan and Reilly put in pitch-perfect performances that capture exactly why their characters had such an impact on comedy as we know it. Indeed, Stan & Ollie's casting proves a cinematic stroke of genius, of the kind that every film aims for but only a select few manage. It's especially fitting that both Coogan and Reilly have become well-known for their own two-handers in recent times — the former with Rob Brydon, as largely seen in The Trip and its sequels; the latter with Will Ferrell, though last year's Holmes & Watson is best burned from everyone's memories. Experienced hands at bouncing off an on-screen partner, they're so adept at it here that their charming double-act feels like the real thing. Crucially, they sell both the sweetness and melancholy of a life spent tied to another, although the movie's most deeply moving element comes via postscript. When Hardy died, Laurel never performed again, but kept writing new material for them to share. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RE5xbDTkzQQ
Time flies when you're slurping up mussels and listening to the sounds of jazz, as the folks at South Melbourne Market well and truly know. That's an apt description of how quickly two days of seafood and tunes can seem to fly by, and recognition that the Coventry and Cecil corner mainstay has been celebrating both for six years now. The latest will take place on March 9 and 10, with the Port Phillip Mussel & Jazz Festival returning to serve up a mollusc-focused street party. Oh, and 200,000 mussels. It's free, it'll fill your stomach with locally sourced seafood, and it'll offer up a feast of other treats, including sweets, tipples and dance-worthy tunes. When it comes to enjoying the tasty sea creatures, Claypots, Köy, Paco y Lola, Simply Spanish and Bambu are just some of the eateries popping up — and whipping up an array of different mussel dishes. Seafood lovers will be able to dive into everything from mussel paella to wok-cooked drunken mussels. And you'll be eating for a good cause. The shells will be collected by Shuck Don't Chuck and used to help restore the bay's shellfish reefs. Taking care of the entertainment are The Senegambian Jazz Band, The Sugarfood Ramblers, local singer Chelsea Wilson and a New Orleans-inspired seven-piece called the Horns of Leroy. Image: Simon Shiff.
When millennials reach their twilight years, Zac Efron might be singing his way through Retirement Home Musical, Blue Ivy Carter could win an Oscar for cinema's latest big hit musical biopic — about her mother, naturally — and the Stranger Things kids may've become the go-to grizzled crackpots in every sci-fi film and TV show around. No offence meant to any of them, but that's what popular culture does. Nostalgia never dies, so the entertainment industry keeps recycling the same things for the same audience, just in an era-appropriate fashion. And it'll keep doing so, long past the point when Fast & Furious 89: Now We're Fast, Furious and Fragile zooms into theatres. For a current example — a predecessor to an elderly Vin Diesel and The Rock still doing what they do, perhaps — look no further than the old geezer heist genre. In recent years, it keeps serving up veteran actors reliving their heydays with varying degrees of success. When it's done in a smart, soulful and insightful manner,the Robert Redford-starring The Old Man and the Gun is the end result. When ease, laziness and cashing in are the aim of the game instead, you get Michael Caine's two latest jaunts across Australia's big screens: 2017's Going In Style and now King of Thieves. In the former film, Caine played a desperate Brooklyn resident who robs a bank with his usually law-abiding pals (Morgan Freeman and Alan Arkin). In the latter, he's a seasoned cockney crim doing what all seasoned crims do eventually, or so the movies tell us. Reuniting with his fellow retired crook friends (Tom Courtenay, Jim Broadbent, Ray Winstone and Paul Whitehouse) after the death of his wife, Caine's Brian Reader plans one last London job over the Easter long weekend. Their target is a Hatton Garden safe deposit facility filled with cash, gold and jewels to the tune of £14 million, and they've got help from the much younger 'best alarm specialist in London', aka Basil (Charlie Cox). There's a moment early in King of Thieves that epitomises the film's bland, routine approach. The movie's five main elderly Englishmen stand around in a workshop, plotting their high-stakes scheme and rallying against today's high-tech ways — the internet is overrated, most of them decide. Then Basil walks in. The mood instantly turns frosty, complete with shots of horrified faces from Winstone's hard man, Broadbent's wildcard, Courtenay's doddering gent and Whitehouse's outsider. Caine abstains, but only because it's his character that's brought the newcomer in on the plan. In mere seconds, director James Marsh summarises the entire picture: old dogs, an aversion to new tricks and a story that keeps emphasising both. There's a few narrative twists, a dose of duplicity and treachery, and plenty of greed complicating matters, however there's never any doubt about where the whole thing is going. You'd never guess that Marsh has a duo of excellent documentaries to his name in Man on Wire and Project Nim, before he started turning true tales into standard dramas with The Theory of Everything, The Mercy and now King of Thieves. Similarly, that screenwriter Joe Penhall created stellar serial killer series Mindhunter will thoroughly escape your attention based on the dull material at hand. And King of Thieves is so broad and formulaic that you simply won't realise or care that it's based on reality, with the actual robbery carried out by geriatric criminals in 2015, and marking the largest theft in British history. The fact that the film flits awkwardly and unconvincingly between comedy and thriller doesn't help, and nor does its visually drab images, or some of the least exciting robbery scenes ever committed to celluloid. Caine and his cronies, whose numbers also includes a dishevelled Michael Gambon looking far removed from his Dumbledore days, aren't blowing the bloody doors off anything either. How can they be when they're tasked with groan-inducing one-liners like "I don't care about prison life; it's the afterlife that worries me"? Indeed, when King of Thieves resorts to inserting brief clips of the silver-haired main crew in their younger, sprightlier years — taken from older, much better works on the actors' respective resumes — the result is as creaky as the cast's joints. They deserve better, as do the viewers. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eeQAY_9vG8M
2017's Happy Death Day was the knock-off that wasn't; the rehash that name-checked its inspiration, yet did more than recycle used parts. Groundhog Day for the 21st century, it took its repetitive conceit, coupled it with a slasher flick premise and had a damn good time with the combination. When you felt like you'd seen it all before, that was by playful design. When the film threw up its own surprises — and when it toyed with genre conventions in the process — it pleasingly exceeded expectations. Watching a sorority mean girl navigate the same day endlessly not just in the name of self-improvement, but to catch her own killer, proved the lively spark that both college-set horror flicks and time loop movies needed. With follow-up Happy Death Day 2U, the scenario gets a do-over, although not in the way viewers might initially expect. Where Happy Death Day saw Tree (Jessica Rothe) reliving her birthday over and over, this inevitable sequel basically sees her revisit the past film again and again. Initially, however, the movie tasks someone else with experiencing a perpetual replay. From the outset, Ryan (Phi Vu) — the roommate of Tree's new boyfriend Carter (Israel Broussard) — replicates the same day that Tree kept enduring in the initial picture. But there's a reason for Ryan's repetitive blast from the past, thanks to his thesis physics experiment. Quicker than anyone can spit out a jumble of science jargon, his attempts to redress the situation throw Tree back into her old loop, albeit in an alternative dimension. From the retro poster on Carter and Ryan's dorm room wall, to the familiar refrains throughout the film's score, to characters flat-out discussing the similarities, Happy Death Day 2U treats Back to the Future: Part II the same way that its predecessor treated Groundhog Day. The beloved 80s sci-fi comedy is the flux capacitor powering this three-decades-later spin, but switching sources of inspiration, and ostensibly switching genres as well, doesn't make for as satisfying an outcome this time around. Written and directed by Happy Death Day's Christopher Landon, who only served as director the first time around, this sequel isn't lacking in ambition. It deserves props for endeavouring to find an interesting hook, rather than favouring a bland rehash. Still, try as it might, Happy Death Day 2U can't splice its self-referential nature and its leap into science-fiction into a convincing, completely engaging whole. As the film's feisty heroine learns more than once, when you revisit the same scenario, the little changes can't be ignored. Specifically, Tree can't escape her new dilemma — as well as staving off another mask-wearing killer, she's forced to pick between realities. The loop she's now in corrects a past trauma that she's eager to unburden, but robs her of the one thing about her future she was looking forward to. That's weighty material for a sci-fi slasher comedy, yet this isn't a weighty affair. While Happy Death Day 2U feigns at depth, and broadly takes Tree on another emotional journey, it has much more fun when it's focusing on its two gimmicks. When the picture nods and winks its way through literally repeating the initial flick, it remains peppy and perky, particularly as Tree thwarts her would-be murderer by taking matters into her own hands again and again. And although the film enjoys its science fiction silliness perhaps more than the audience, there's no missing the caper vibe. (In fact, as far as the movie's mood goes, bumps, jumps and horror thrills give way to an energetic onslaught of temporal absurdity.) At every point along the way, Rothe firmly demonstrates why Happy Death Day 2U exists beyond its potential to repeat its predecessor's box office bonanza. When the first film more than hit its marks, much of its success sprang from its little-known star's shoulders. Here, as Tree discovers that she's doing-over her endless cycle of do-overs, Rothe gives the kind of committed performance that the filmmakers are right to build a franchise around. That proves true whether she's glowering in a near-cartoonish rage, or navigating a suicide montage (and revelling in her own death more than should be possible). She's never less than an exuberant delight to watch, a description that only keeps proving true the more ridiculous the movie gets. And yet, if you're wondering why the end result remains a little underwhelming, the answer is simple. All that dying eventually pays a toll on the picture's protagonist, and all that effort to twist the same idea in new ways just feels weaker on a second run-through. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JkhbzS8PBm8
As the drummer for Nirvana and the frontman for Foo Fighters, Dave Grohl doesn't have many mixed bags on his resume. The music superstar has been in the spotlight for three-plus decades now, and boasts success after success to his name, complete with a list of awards and hits bound to make almost everyone else in the industry envious. But all their lives, Grohl and his fellow Foos must've dreamt of being horror movie stars — and the result, the pandemic-shot Studio 666, shouldn't entice any of them to quit their day jobs. A haunted-house horror-comedy, this rockstar lark is gonzo, gory and extremely goofy. It's a clear bit of fun for everyone involved, and it's made with overflowing love for the genre it slips into and parodies. But it's an indulgent and stretched exercise in famous folks following their whims at times like these, too. Achievement unlocked: there's Grohl's mixed bag. Studio 666's setup revolves around Grohl, drummer Taylor Hawkins, guitarists Chris Shiflett and Pat Smear, bassist Nate Mendel and keyboardist Rami Jaffee packing their bags for a live-in recording session at an Encino mansion. As the movie's 1993-set prologue shows, their temporary new home has a dark past, after the last group that inhabited the spot met bloody ends; however, ignorance is bliss for the Foo Fighters. Actually, an obligation to deliver their tenth album to their overbearing manager (Jeff Garlin, Curb Your Enthusiasm) inspires the move, as does the band's creative lull in conjuring up the record otherwise. Grohl instantly falls for the sound of the space as well, to an unhinged degree, and his bandmates begrudgingly agree to the month-long stay to make musical magic happen. Recording an album doesn't usually spark The Evil Dead-style murderous mayhem, cursed book and all, but that's Studio 666's gambit. Its Californian abode isn't just stalked by a grisly ghoul with a love of gut-rumbling tracks — it possesses Grohl with the need to craft a killer song, length be damned, and with satanic bloodlust, cannibal cravings and prima-donna rocker behaviour. Is he monstrous about doing whatever it takes to get the tune because he's bedevilled by the house's resident evil, he's on a power trip or both? That's one of the film's big gags, and also a hefty splatter of the kind of sense of humour it's working with. Winking, nudging, satirising, and sending up fame, egos and the all-devouring nature of entertainment stardom: they're all on the movie's menu, alongside as much gleefully cheap-looking viscera as any feature can manage to splash around. Amid the deaths by cymbal, barbecued faces and projectile-vomited guts — no, what's left of the Foos at the film's end won't be getting their bond back — there's zero doubt that Grohl and company are enjoying themselves. Actors, they aren't, but playfulness has always been part of Foo Fighters' mood. When the band began in 1994, initially as a one-man project by Grohl after Kurt Cobain's suicide the same year, it was instantly perkier and sillier than Nirvana. For the 'Big Me' music video from the group's self-titled first album, they shot an unforgettable Mentos ad parody in Sydney. With the 'Learn to Fly' clip in 1999, they satirised airline flicks — Airplane!, which was already a send-up, plus disaster fare Airport 1975 and Airport '77 — aided by Tenacious D's Jack Black and Kyle Gass. Getting so delightedly bloody might be new, but refusing to take themselves seriously definitely isn't. Surrounded by Lionel Ritchie cameos and Will Forte's (MacGruber) bit-part as a delivery driver-slash-wannabe muso, all in the house where they did actually record 2021's Medicine at Midnight, the Foos are in on all of the jokes — Grohl goes overboard with his eye acting, Jaffee couldn't be more buzzed to revel in New Age-y stereotypes and Smear is gloriously flippant about sleeping on the kitchen bench — but they also overestimate how entertaining their mucking around is for audiences. The ever-longer it sticks around, the more Studio 666 resembles viewing your mates' holiday videos and hearing them relive their in-gags from that trip you didn't take with them. The Grohl-originated story, as scripted by the Pet Sematary remake and latest American The Grudge flick scribe Jeff Buhler with Rebecca Hughes, a veteran of mid-00s sitcom Cracking Up, has more to it than a mere clip for a Foo Fighters song could sustain. There isn't enough for Hatchet III and Slayer music video director BJ McDonnell's 107-minute movie, though. Splitting the difference, a tight half-hour short like the Beastie Boys' 2011 Fight for Your Right Revisited might've hit the mark perfectly, but then no one could've sold cinema tickets. Studio 666 is a tad haunted by those other alliterative American music icons given that the Beastie Boys made ridiculously parodying movie genres an art in their clips for 'Sabotage' — aka the best music video ever made — and 'Body Movin'. This Foos' effort strives for the same vibe, but more is less here. There's a bit of A Hard Days Night to Studio 666, too. Obviously, The Beatles-starring 1964 film doesn't care too much for horror, or at all, but the two movies share a days-in-a-life angle that peers beyond the facade of fame. That's a nice piece of music synergy, in fact, given that Grohl was part of a makeshift band tasked with playing the British group's songs for the Backbeat soundtrack back in 1994, the same year Foo Fighters was born. Not just due to Grohl's flannelette-heavy wardrobe, the Nirvana of it all proves a monkey wrench for Studio 666. In coming up with a story that includes a hit early-90s band's demise after the suicide of their lead singer, it's impossible not to see Grohl's bad-taste cribbing from his own history — a piece of satire that doesn't land for a second, was never going to and is mind-bogglingly ill thought-out. When the film does work, however, it's a screwy, entrails-strewn jape. When it toys with horror fans' knowledge of the genre by using Halloween-style text with an opening theme to match, then reveals the track to be the product of the iconic John Carpenter (who also cameos on-screen), it's knowing in an ideal way. But, when Jason Trost of the cult-fave The FP franchise shows up briefly, Studio 666 lays bare its own demons. This Foo-driven film wants to be the best of that exact kind of midnight movie, but is really just a cover version.
After the year that was 2020, we could all use a bit of a chuckle. And there'll be plenty of those to go around when the latest edition of Lemon Comedy delivers a big dose of diversity to the Fringe Common Rooms on Thursday, March 18. The hilarious Annie Louey hosts a jam-packed night of stand-up, championing inclusivity across a lineup of female-identifying, non-binary and LGBTQIA+ comedians, artists living with a disability or mental illness, and comedians of colour. Kicking off from 7.30pm, you'll catch a broad range of comedic talent serving up the laughs, headlined by award-winning cabaret star and songwriter Selina Jenkins (BOOBS). Also in the side-splitting mix are writer and comedian Alistair Baldwin (Lame), RAW Comedy Victorian finalist Sashi Perera, award-winning stand-up act Sonia Di Iorio, and multi-talented artist and performer Heather Joan. Audiences are in for a few surprises, too, not least of which is a top-secret international star being streamed in live from the UK. This will be the first 2021 outing for the Lemon Comedy showcase, so you'd best start warming up those cheek muscles — it's going to be a big one. [caption id="attachment_803048" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Lemon Comedy host, Annie Louey[/caption] Top image: Duncographic
What happens when a lineup of Melbourne's hospitality favourites team up to throw a huge Tex-Mex fiesta on a rooftop? Well, we're about to find out. That's what's on the menu when New El Paso takes over Johnny's Green Room for a one-off celebration from 12pm on Sunday, April 11. Casey Wall (Bar Liberty, Capitano) and Chris Watson (Meatsmith) are joining forces to cook up a storm, plating up an exclusive menu of American and Mexican dishes. You'll be able to get your mitts on such hits as mushroom quesadillas filled with Oaxaca cheese and jalapeños ($11), fried chicken tortas laced with chipotle mayo and tomato salsa ($16), and hard shell tacos stuffed with smoked brisket burnt ends ($17). Downstairs neighbour Pidapipo is also coming to the party, with a special sweet corn gelato taco for dessert ($11). While you stuff your face, you'll be grooving to tunes from DJ Chico G and sipping pints of Garage Project's Golden Path IPA. Or, stick with the theme and try out the Johnny's 8 Ball cocktail special — a gutsy blend of Blanco tequila, mezcal, Aperol, yellow chartreuse and lime. Top image: Sarah Pannell.
Lockdowns (one and two) have hit Melbourne's hospitality industry pretty hard this year, leaving many workers without jobs or with drastically cut hours, with I Lost My Hospo Shift reporting that over $2 million in wages have been lost in the last week alone. But for southside hospo and entertainment staff who've been doing it tough, a helping hand is here in the form of a pop-up kitchen doling out free meals. Taking over Windsor's Neptune Food & Wine tonight, Monday, July 27, The Big Ass Staff Meal is here to remind us all just how good Melbourne's hospo scene is, serving up hundreds of free takeaway feeds for local industry workers. The team has pulled together donations from the likes of Commune Group — including free use of the High Street restaurant — View Hotels, meat suppliers Flinders & Co and distributor Bidfood Wholesale, and is getting busy whipping up the ultimate chef-cooked staff meal — a hospo ritual many of you might've been missing out on lately. From 6–8pm, there'll be a range of food packs available, complete with sides, dessert and even pre-batched booze-free cocktails courtesy of Lyre's. Expect plenty of vegan and vegetarian options on offer, too. Hospo folk keen for tonight's staff feed can simply RSVP via Facebook to give organisers an idea of numbers. During pick-up, face masks will be mandatory and social distancing protocols will be in place. Melburnians have been directed to stay as local as they can when leaving the house for an essential reason during lockdown, so The Big Ass Staff Meal team is encouraging only those in Windsor and surrounding suburbs to pick up a meal.
Usually, when Jungle Collective hosts one of its huge sales in Melbourne, it fills a Richmond warehouse with indoor plants — and jungle vibes. But on Saturday, October 17 and Sunday, October 18, it's going virtual with its weird and wonderful pieces of greenery instead. Whether you're after a hanging pot plant, some palms for the garden or a giant Bird of Paradise, chances are you'll find it here. You'll just be doing your shopping online via the Jungle Collective website rather than heading in-store. Generally, more than 170 different species tend to be on offer in-person — so here's hoping that hefty range makes the virtual jump. While this is a 100-percent online event, tickets work in a similar way as Jungle Collective's physical sales. Due to expected demand, it'll be held in multiple sessions — with your ticket specifying when you'll need to hop online and start buying. Virtual shoppers do need to register for free tickets in advance from midday on Monday, October 12 to take part, though. As for deliveries, your plants will make their way to you over the following week from Sunday, October 24, with more details given when you make your purchase. Delivery costs $15–40 depending on your area, with orders within 25 kilometres driving distance nabbing free delivery if you spend $150 — and everyone living further away getting $15 off.
A good pair of boots is an investment. If you're adding some to your wardrobe, it's worth making sure you get the right ones. But, sadly, if you find yourself a pair that you can wear day and night, eventually even the best boots get a little worse for wear. Until Sunday, October 25, RM Williams has a solution — for everyone who has worn out their old boots, wants and/or needs a new pair, but hasn't gotten around to it just yet. Head by one of the brand's stores, bring your old boots with you and you'll be able to trade them in as part of its Well Worn Trade special, scoring a discount on some new RMs. In particularly great news for everyone who has a different brand of boots, you can trade in leather boots of any brand. That'll nab you $100 off some brand new RMs — or, if you do have some old RMs to trade, you'll receive $150 off your next pair. The trade-in is only available in-store, unless you're in Victoria — where you'll be asked to email in some details and images first, before posting the boots in. And if you're wondering what'll happen to all those old shoes, all traded RMs will be sent back to the brand's workshop to be restored and replenished, while boots of all other brands will be donated to the World's Biggest Garage Sale.
The working day is done, and you're ready to relax with a cold one. On Thursday, September 19 and Friday, September 20, if you head to Federation Square, you can also sip a couple of brews for free. From 4–8pm each day, the inner-city spot will play host to a beer keg-filled kombi, which'll be pouring free samples. You'll be sipping Mountain Goat'ss finest beverages, and each person can grab two freebies. The giveaway is part of an Australian road trip by hotel chain Four Points by Sheraton, with the kombi hitting the road, travelling around the nation and sharing the brews. You'll also be able to meet local brewers, enter a competition to win a trip to New Zealand, and score a special beer and wings deal at Four Points by Sheraton Melbourne Docklands if you're still feeling thirsty — or hungry — afterwards.
For three nights in October, Chin Chin's new event space will transform into an immersive art installation and performance — with an impressive lineup of food and drinks, too — for Hyper Real 2.0. A collaboration between Chin Chin and conceptional artist, musician and all-round creative Offerings (aka Missy Gilbert) — who's known for the themed dining experiences she hosts in Sydney — the part dinner, part art show will ignite all of the senses senses, giving you things to touch, listen to, look at and taste. Between Thursday, October 10 and Saturday, October 12, you'll be able to partake in a sensory overloaded experience where licking walls, cutting through metal fences, listening to experimental music, and partaking in five interactive food and drink experiences will bamboozle, delight and amuse. Upon ticket purchase, you will be sent secret instructions and a dress code — to ensure you truly become part of the art. Three events take place each night — at 6pm, 8pm and 9.30pm — with tickets on sale now for $145 per person.
Storytelling is as old as time. It's how we share experiences, knowledge and memories. Non-profit organisation The Moth is dedicated to sharing personal stories and celebrating the art of telling them. The New York-based initiative hosts over 500 live open-mic events across the globe each year, with people — from notable literary and cultural personalities to your average Joe — getting up on stage to tell their stories. In 2008, The Moth brought its communal open mic events Down Under and this year, on Monday, July 1, Melbourne will hear some of the best stories of the city about being bold. These tales could range from sweet anecdotes — perhaps wearing a crazy outfit or saying 'I love you' for the first time — to bigger acts of bravery like running headfirst into a burning building. Brandishing their weapons of word and wit, the storytellers will compete for the top gong at Howler in Brunswick. You'll hear five-minute stories of the bold type that are both tightly crafted and masterfully told. Come for stories that inspire, provoke, sadden and enlighten, told by some of Melbourne's best. Or, if you consider yourself a wordsmith, you can drop your name in the bag to be selected at random, then grab the mic, hit the stage and tell your five-minute tale. The Moth StorySLAM: Bold will take place at Howler. Doors open at 7pm, with stories beginning at 7.30pm. Tickets are on sale now and can be purchased here.
There's always some sort of party going at Welcome to Thornbury, and while doggos are always welcome, the venue's Tiny Dog Festival will see the space swarmed by pups of the super small variety. If it's an adorable little barking creature, it'll be in the spotlight on Sunday, July 28 — so bring your own or prepare to pat plenty of others. And, although the site's food trucks and bars will be catering to humans, plenty of dog-friendly businesses will be on hand to cater to your pooch's every need. Plus, if it's anything like last year, there'll be beer (for you) and bone (for your four-legged friend) deals on offer. As part of the all-round celebration of pint-sized pooches over a few pints, the fest will also feature a tiny dog race and a best-dressed tiny dog competition. If your pupper is speedy or has great style, then you'll want to take part. Plus, Welcome to Thornbury also wants to find the inner north's tiniest adult dog, so prepare to spend a day staring at cute pooches that could fit in your pocket and wonder how you can get them in there without their owners noticing.
As its eponymous heroine (Daisy Ridley) lays prone in a pond, eyes closed, her hands clutching a wilting bouquet of flowers, Ophelia opens with a potential mic-drop moment. "You may think you know my story; many have told it," the film's narration accurately advises, which usually signals that a swift change of style, approach or pace will soon follow. Thankfully, while slick, over-amped, action-packed modernisations of classic tales have become common on cinema screens of late, this take on Hamlet instead opts to switch its perspective. Exploring the tragedies surrounding the famed, fictional, medieval-era Danish prince (George McKay), the movie doesn't ponder whether to be or not to be. Rather, it views its narrative through his paramour's eyes — with the gorgeously staged and shot feature brandishing noticeable differences as a result, but still looking and feeling as if William Shakespeare wouldn't be rolling in his grave. One of the playwright's most acclaimed and influential works (Star Wars, The Lion King and TV's Sons of Anarchy have all taken their cues from it), Hamlet has always proven a fascinating account of power, politics, love, lust, loyalty and vengeance. In Australian filmmaker Claire McCarthy's (The Waiting City) hands, that's also true, however its new feminist thrust is as intriguing as it is welcome. Adapting the novel by Lisa Klein, screenwriter Semi Chellas (Mad Men) contemplates not only the fate of feuding men, but of women forced to live with the consequences of male-dominated decisions. A delicate balancing act is at play; befitting today's times, Ophelia emerges from Hamlet's sidelines, tries to steer her own course and doesn't simply descend into jilted madness — although, as the Bard intended, her path remains forever tied to her beloved. Uttered firmly and passionately by Ridley, whose Star Wars pedigree ensures she knows a few things about those traits, Ophelia's scene-setting introductory narration characterises its protagonist as "a wilful girl". They're her own words, worn as a badge of honour, which the film then spends its time unpacking. As a slip of a pre-teen (Mia Quiney) who's a little too wily for her widower father Polonius (Dominic Mafham), yet isn't allowed to receive the same education as her brother Laertes (Tom Felton), Ophelia attracts the attention of Queen Gertrude (Naomi Watts). While Hamlet (played as a child by Jack Cunningham-Nuttall) is schooled abroad, Ophelia joins the court's ladies-in-waiting. When the prince returns home as a man, finding Ophelia similarly all grown up, sparks fly — but so does betrayal, death and something rotten in the state of Denmark, especially after the king is slain, leaving his brother Claudius (Clive Owen) to claim Hamlet's throne as well as his mother. McCarthy may buck the current stylistic trend when it comes to re-envisaging well-known, period-set stories (Robin Hood or King Arthur, this isn't, thankfully), but her interpretation still bears signs of its influences. With a focus on star-cross'd lovers, elements of Shakespeare's own Romeo and Juliet sneak in. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern earn a mention in the movie's dialogue, naturally, with the duo's own reimagined filmic excursion — comedy Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead — casting a small shadow. So too do a few of the Bard's recurrent motifs from his broader canon, including potions, twins and plays-within-plays. And yet, Ophelia is steadfastly its own piece, thanks to its evocative mood, sumptuous staging and intricate costuming in no small part. The tale's Elsinore castle setting appears both earthy and ethereal, continuing the lush aesthetics heralded in the movie's opening shot, which nods to Sir John Everett Millais's famed 1850s painting that's also named Ophelia. One particularly horrendous wig aside — a long, drab, floppy mess that does the otherwise adequate Owen no favours — this version of Ophelia also makes the most of many of its stars, as any iteration of this narrative by any name needs to. Playfulness permeates Chellas' reworked prose, alongside the source material's trademark wit, which rolls off of the actors' respective tongues. A sense of inner steeliness reverberates through the film's performances too, not only guiding Ridley's work, but evident in Watts' efforts in multiple roles. Indeed, when a new take on Shakespeare inspires the audience to luxuriate in its characters, their dialogue and the emotions they're conveying, it's nobly doing its job. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmelYOAFv20
UPDATE, February 5, 2021: Apollo 11 is available to stream via Amazon Prime Video, Google Play, YouTube Movies and iTunes. For those born after humanity initially visited the moon, it's easy to take the amazing achievement for granted. It has been 47 years since anyone has strolled across the earth's only natural satellite, but our ability to soar into space and tread on the lunar surface if we wanted to still seems like a given. With 2019 marking five decades since Neil Armstrong took one small step for man and one giant leap for mankind, the timing couldn't be better to consider the historic Apollo 11 mission in detail. Naming his documentary after the pioneering spaceflight, director, editor and producer Todd Douglas Miller knows that anyone can run through the ins and outs of the preparation, voyage and on-the-ground hoopla. Only by assembling an astounding array of archival audio and video footage, however, can a documentary dare to dream about capturing not just the expedition, but the complete experience. How does it feel to place one foot in front of the other on a celestial body located nearly 400,000 kilometres above the earth, as Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin did? What was it like to be back at Cape Canaveral viewing the rocket launch? Or to be in NASA's mission control centre during the eight days that the vessel's three-man crew were in the air? They're questions that Apollo 11 endeavours to answer. While space-based films have tracked nearly every other possible aspect of venturing into the heavens, especially in science fiction, relaying the one thing that humanity has actually accomplished has always proven trickier until this exceptional doco. In the inky darkness above us, no one can hear you scream, according to Ridley Scott's Alien — and yet, if you're Armstrong, an entire planet can hang on your every word while you're taking the first-ever walk across the moon. Last year, Damien Chazelle's First Man went to great lengths to show that iconic incident from the late astronaut's perspective, but there's simply nothing like watching the real thing. As an editor, Miller's task is immense, trawling through more primary materials than any filmmaker tackling the moon landing could hope to have at their disposal. The Dinosaur 13 director not only received access to a wealth of newly discovered, previously unprocessed 65mm visuals, but to more than 11,000 hours of uncatalogued audio recordings featuring 60 key personnel. Delving into such a treasure trove, he follows a linear timeline. Although that may sound straightforward, the end result is by no means standard. Apollo 11 flies meticulously through the intricacies of its eponymous mission, specifically highlighting the launch of the Columbia spacecraft, the Eagle lunar module's descent to the moon, the process of reconnecting the two vessels together afterwards and the re-entry into the planet's atmosphere. More than that, it makes viewers feel as if they're there as well — waving flags in Florida, muttering into headsets in Houston, careening through space and stepping onto the moon's powdery white surface. There's a basic principle at work here, and one that Apollo 11 puts into action in the best possible way: show don't tell. For the last 50 years, the world has deployed countless words to discuss the mission's feat — perhaps that's why we've lost our sense of wonder about it — so Miller doesn't waste time recapping, recounting or analysing. Although Aldrin and fellow Apollo 11 astronaut Michael Collins are still alive, he doesn't ask them to chat about the space venture either. Rather, he lets the materials from the period offer a portal back to the past. Eschewing narration and interviews, the filmmaker relies upon his stunning archive to relay this monumental story. Nothing else is necessary; vivid and teeming with life, Apollo 11's footage and audio truly goes above and beyond, especially when seen on the big or IMAX screen. It gives the big, weighty moments their time to shine, including Armstrong's famous words. It features astonishing off-the-planet sights, such as the view of Earth from such great heights. It also turns seemingly routine minutiae, of which there's plenty, into a jaw-dropping spectacle. Indeed, much of the documentary's power stems from its vibrancy, not just in observing the nuts and bolts of the spaceflight, but in making this immersive portrait of five decades ago appear virtually futuristic. The movie's images are that comprehensive, even with the obvious 60s-era clothing, furniture and technology, that they feel almost unreal. The open and engaged looks on everyone's faces evoke the same sensation, as do their relaxed and respectful conversations, because such collective camaraderie and widespread earnestness aren't overly common in the 21st-century. Of course, it should feel extraordinary to ponder something as significant as sending people to the moon, let alone to bear witness to it. Continuing that sentiment, Apollo 11 doesn't simply transport the audience back in time, or immortalise one of humanity's greatest achievements in never-before-seen detail — it also provides a glaring snapshot of who we were, what we once valued and how much we've changed in such a short period. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKWKjKtkwxk
We hope you're thirsty, Melbourne. The city's newest craft beer festival kicks into gear next month and it runs for a whole five weeks. Descending on The General Assembly from August 26 to September 29, the inaugural HopsFest celebrates a different Aussie brewery each week, dishing up a froth-tastic program of brewer sessions, bottomless beer feasts, tap takeovers and daily 'hoppy hours'. A series of educational Beer Banter Thursdays sessions will feature brewer chats, masterclasses, trivia, giveaways and snack-matched beer tastings, clocking in at a very reasonable $30 a head. Meanwhile, HopsFest's Boozy Bash Saturdays will deliver a series of free weekly afternoon parties, complete with beer tastings and live tunes from 4–7pm. Then on Sundays, the $49 Bottomless Brew sessions will see you sitting down to the best kind of boozy lunch, where a food menu is matched with two hours of free-flowing tap beer from that week's showcase brewery. Adelaide Hills' Prancing Pony kicks things off the first week, with plates like burnt honey- and bush spice-glazed lamb ribs, and popcorn chicken with smoked chilli aioli. Abbotsford's Moon Dog takes the reins for week two, followed by 4 Pines, Pirate Life and Colonial Brewing Co. What's more, all throughout HopsFest you'll score $10 'brewer's choice' pints all day, along with weekly changing beer-matched lunch specials (such as a pint and pie for $25). And from 4-6pm each day, 'hoppy hour' sees all the brewery's tap beers slashed to just $10 a pint.
Trivia comps mean gathering your mates around, enjoying a few beverages and trying to convert your respective stores of knowledge into glory. At this particular trivia afternoon, you'll do all that, but there'll be a particular emphasis on your pals. Given that the topic of the session is a certain sitcom about a band of best buddies, celebrating your chums is the thing to do. Yes, Friends is in the spotlight at Welcome to Thornbury's next battle of pop culture tidbits. If you think you know everything there is to know about the show that caused viewers to agonise over whether Ross and Rachel would get together, wish that Joey and Chandler lived next door and get their hair cut like Jennifer Aniston, here's your chance to prove it. Bar tabs are on offer, and if you wanted an excuse to break out those 90s and early 00s fashions, this is it. Remember, though, it has been 15 years since Friends was on TV, making the contest not just a test of trivia, but a workout for everyone's memories. No one told you that watching endless television reruns could turn out this way. Friends Trivia takes place from 2pm on Sunday, August 4. Participation is free, but you'll need to book a table. And, to help boost your brain, there'll be $5 mulled wines and $15 jugs of beer on offer.
Timing is everything in Where the Crawdads Sing, the murder-mystery melodrama set in America's Deep South that raced up bestseller lists in 2018, and now reaches cinemas a mere four years later. Its entire narrative hinges upon a simple question: did North Carolina outcast and recluse Kya Clark (Daisy Edgar-Jones, Fresh), cruelly nicknamed "the marsh girl" by locals, have time to speed home from an out-of-town stay to push star quarterback Chase Andrews (Harris Dickinson, The King's Man) from a fire tower, then resume her trip without anyone noticing? On the page, that query helped propel Delia Owens' literary sensation to success, to Reese Witherspoon's book club — she's a producer here — and to a swift film adaptation. But no timing would likely have ever been right for the movie's release, given that Owens and her husband are wanted for questioning in a real-life murder case in Zambia. Unlike the film, those off-screen details aren't new, but they were always bound to attract attention again as soon as this feature arrived. One of the reasons they're inescapable: the purposeful parallels between Owens' debut novel and her existence. Like Kya, Owens is a naturalist. The also southern-born author spent years preferring the company of plants and animals, crusading for conservation causes in Africa. Where the Crawdads Sing is timed to coincide with Owens' own life as well; it's set in the 50s and 60s and, as a child (played by Jojo Regina, The Chosen) and a teenager, Kya is around the same age that Owens would've been then. Another reason that the ways that art might link with reality can't be shaken, lingering like a sultry, squelchy day: what ends up on-screen is as poised, pristine and polished as a swampy southern gothic tale can be, and anyone in one. There's still a scandal, but forget dirt, sweat and anything but lush, vivid wilderness, plus a rustic hut that wouldn't look out of place on Airbnb. That Instagram-friendly aesthetic comes courtesy of filmmaker Olivia Newman (First Match), who helms a visually enticing movie — again, incongruously so given the story it unfurls and the location it dwells in — that's as typical as a murder-mystery meets coming-of-age tale meets southern romance can be. The film starts with Chase's body, the investigation that springs and the certainty around the insular small town of Barkley Cove that the supposedly feral and uncivilised marsh girl is responsible. Evidence is thin, but bigotry runs deep against someone who grew up with an abusive father (Garret Dillahunt, Ambulance), was left behind by her other family members and spent the bulk of her years fending for herself in poverty. That said, as in Owens' source material, that's just the framework. On the screen, though, Where the Crawdads Sing's dive into Kya's life feels like it's also been adapted from Nicholas Sparks' pages. Most of Barkley Cove has always shunned Kya, other than generous store owners Jumpin' (Sterling Macer Jr, House of Lies) and Mabel (Michael Hyatt, The Little Things), who she sells mussels to — the feature's only Black characters, who are woefully only used to stress how callous the rest of the town proves, rather than to even dream of digging into matters of race in America's south as the civil rights movement started to gather steam. Also kindly, taking on her defence, is her Atticus Finch-esque local lawyer Tom Milton (David Strathairn, Nightmare Alley). But romance still blossoms not once but twice for Kya, first with the doting, poetry-reading Tate Walker (Taylor John Smith, Blacklight), and then with arrogant rich kid Chase. That's where Newman's film prefers to reside, charting the ups and downs of Kya's affairs of the heart. That's why the movie appears so immaculate that it shimmers with a marsh-chic gleam as well. Smooching in the swamp replaces The Notebook-style kissing in the rain here. Skimming the surface replaces fleshing out what makes Kya tick, what her surroundings truly mean to her, and humanity's complex ties to nature. Kya is the strongest part of Where the Crawdads Sing, but the film makes everything about and around her so by the numbers. Taken from the book, sometimes-evocative turns of phrase litter Lucy Alibar's (Beasts of the Southern Wild) script, endeavouring to conjure up a rich atmosphere and bring Kya's inner feelings to life, including her love for the bayou. They're always far too neat, however, like everything within view. And as impressive as Edgar-Jones is as an actor (see also: fellow page-to-screen hit Normal People), it's impossible to reconcile Where the Crawdads Sing's careful words and dreamy vision of marsh life — such as the way its star is styled — with what the film tells rather than shows about its central character. Kya's kinship with the wetlands is stressed over and over, of course. Where the Crawdads Sing rarely misses an opportunity to mention it. The audience is informed that it's where she feels safe and at home, and learns to be herself — and also provides the inspiration behind her career as an illustrator, cataloguing the creatures that only live in the kind of thick bushland described in the movie's title. But viewers are still stuck doing exactly what the picture rallies against in its narrative: believing their eyes and taking appearances at face value. The only alternative is sketching in minutiae and texture that just isn't in the film — that is, bringing what's present in the book to this version of the story, including what Newman and Alibar left out, then combining the two in your head. That's not how turning novels into movies should work; they're standalone pieces of art, not visual companions. It doesn't fit the tale being told — one that includes child abandonment, sexual assault, domestic violence, and both societal and legal prejudices — but the movie's backdrop does always look stunning, as lensed with the golden glow of a tourism commercial by cinematographer Polly Morgan (A Quiet Place Part II). That's Where the Crawdads Sing, though: pretty rather than profound, meaningfully complicated or substantial. Dickinson and Smith's plights also sum up the film perfectly. While the always-welcome and ever-reliable Strathairn puts in a fine performance that's largely defined by rousing speeches, both Dickinson and Smith do exactly what's asked of them without being given much room to play anything but stock roles. That's Where the Crawdads Sing at its very best, too: always utterly standard. That said, although never visibly or emotionally, it's usually far muddier than that.
Three friends, a huge music festival worth making a mega mission to get to and an essential bag of goon: if you didn't experience that exact combination growing up in Australia, did you really grow up in Australia? That's the mix that starts 6 Festivals, too, with the Aussie feature throwing in a few other instantly familiar inclusions to set the scene. Powderfinger sing-alongs, scenic surroundings and sun-dappled moments have all filled plenty of teenage fest trips, and so has an anything-it-takes mentality — and for the film's central trio of Maxie (Rasmus King, Barons), Summer (Yasmin Honeychurch, Back of the Net) and James (Rory Potter, Ruby's Choice), they're part of their trip to Utopia Valley. But amid dancing to Lime Cordiale and Running Touch, then missing out on Peking Duk's stroke-of-midnight New Year's Eve set after a run-in with security, a shattering piece of news drops. Suddenly these festival-loving friends have a new quest: catching as much live music as they can to help James cope with cancer. The first narrative feature by Bra Boys and Fighting Fear director Macario De Souza, 6 Festivals follows Maxie, Summer and James' efforts to tour their way along the east coast festival circuit. No, there are no prizes for guessing how many gigs are on their list, with the Big Pineapple Music Festival, Yours and Owls and Lunar Electric among the events on their itinerary. Largely road-tripping between real fests, and also showcasing real sets by artists spanning Dune Rats, Bliss n Eso, G Flip, B Wise, Ruby Fields, Dope Lemon, Stace Cadet and more, 6 Festivals dances into the mud, sweat and buzz — the crowds, cheeky beers and dalliances with other substances that help form this coming-of-age rite-of-passage, aka cramming in as many festivals as you possibly can from the moment your parents will let you, as well. This is also a cancer drama, however, which makes for an unsurprisingly tricky balancing act, especially after fellow Aussie movie Babyteeth tackled the latter so devastatingly well so recently. Take that deservedly award-winning film, throw in whichever music festival documentary takes your fancy, then add The Bucket List but with teens — that's 6 Festivals. There's a touch of the concert-set 9 Songs as well, obviously sans sex scenes. Spotting the dots connected by De Souza and Sean Nash's (a Home and Away and Neighbours alum) script isn't difficult. That said, neither is spying the movie's well-intentioned aim. Riding the ecstatically bustling festival vibe, and surveying everything from the anticipation-laden pre-fest excitement through to the back-to-reality crash afterwards, 6 Festivals is an attempt to capture and celebrate the fest experience, as well as a concerted effort to face a crucial fact: that, as much as a day in the mosh pit feels like an escape and is always worth cherishing, it only sweeps away life's stark truths momentarily. The film's core threesome have their fair share of stresses; pivotally, 6 Festivals sticks with believable dramas. James faces his diagnosis, treatment and his mother's (Briony Williams, Total Control) worries, all while trying to recruit the feature's array of musical acts for his own dream event. Scoring backstage access comes courtesy of up-and-coming Indigenous muso Marley (debutant Guyala Bayles), who graces most of the lineups and shared a childhood with Summer, united by their respective mothers' struggles with addiction — and, now they've crossed paths again, offers to mentor her pal's own singing career. As for Maxie, his drug-dealing older brother Kane (Kyuss King, also from Barons) is usually at the same fests pressuring him into carrying his stash. They're the only family each other has, so saying no doesn't seem an option. Cemented friendships, last hurrahs, big dreams, substance-addled chaos: all festivals boast these tales, whichever one, six or 1000 anyone happens to pick. Again, it's easy to see how De Souza and Nash have chosen not only their overall plot, but its narrative beats — and it's just as easy to understand why, what they're striving for and how it's hoped that viewers will respond. 6 Festivals' live footage is vivid and authentic in its look, texture and tone, and the story sticks to the same relatable terrain. Of course, the line between clichéd and being predictable because that's simply how life is can be incredibly thin, not to mention subjective. Sometimes, 6 Festivals falls on the raw and immersive side of the been-there-done-that equation, and sometimes on the forced and well-worn — like a well-known song either given a definitive new live spin, or sounding exactly as it does whenever and wherever it's played. Always fresh and lived-in, and never just doing what's done, is the film's impressive young cast — even when the dialogue they're uttering is more than a little clunky. It isn't merely Potter who gets saddled with awkward lines, thankfully, as the worst pictures about ailing characters tend to do. 6 Festivals doesn't push its cancer-stricken character to the side and, with all five of its key figures wading through woes, it smartly doesn't use his deteriorating health solely to gift his pals with life-changing lessons, either. Still, whenever the movie gleans an opportunity to spell out its weighty emotions as overtly as it can, it takes it. It needn't; Potter sells James' plight in his yearning eyes and anxious energy, including when getting drunk feels like the only thing to do, while Honeychurch, Bayles and the IRL King brothers all leave their own imprints. Every festival thrives or falters based on its lineup, and this film that flits between six of them is no different — including via the real-life bands and artists that fill its frames. Some get worked into the narrative in those aforementioned behind-the-action chats, others solely bust out their onstage best, but the full roster provides a stelar snapshot of Australia's music and fest scenes. With the live performances, as well as the general on-the-ground atmosphere, cinematographer Hugh Miller (June Again) and editor Ahmad Halimi (The Bureau of Magical Things) achieve the most vital task 6 Festivals has: making feeling like you're there the easiest feeling in the world. The movie overall is a mixed bag, but wanting to rush out of the cinema — or hop up from your couch, with the film hitting streaming on August 25, a fortnight after its big-screen debut — and into the first festival near you is an instant reaction.
UPDATE, October 19, 2022: The Stranger released in Australian cinemas on October 6, then streams via Netflix from October 19. No emotion or sensation ripples through two or more people in the exact same way, and never will. The Stranger has much to convey, but it expresses that truth with piercing precision. The crime-thriller is the sophomore feature from actor-turned-filmmaker Thomas M Wright — following 2018's stunning Adam Cullen biopic Acute Misfortune, another movie that shook everyone who watched it and proved hard to shake — and it's as deep, disquieting and resonant a dance with intensity as its genre can deliver. To look into Joel Edgerton's (Thirteen Lives) eyes as Mark, an undercover cop with a traumatic but pivotal assignment, is to spy torment and duty colliding. To peer at Sean Harris (Spencer) as the slippery Henry Teague is to see a cold, chilling and complex brand of shiftiness. Sitting behind these two performances in screentime but not impact is Jada Alberts' (Mystery Road) efforts as dedicated, determined and drained detective Kate Rylett — and it may be the portrayal that sums up The Stranger best. Writing as well as directing, Wright has made a film that is indeed dedicated, determined and draining. At every moment, including in sweeping yet shadowy imagery and an on-edge score, those feelings radiate from the screen as they do from Alberts. Sharing the latter's emotional exhaustion comes with the territory; sharing their sense of purpose does as well. In the quest to capture a man who abducted and murdered a child, Rylett can't escape the case's horrors — and, although the specific details aren't used, there's been no evading the reality driving this feature. The Stranger doesn't depict the crime that sparked Kate Kyriacou's non-fiction book The Sting: The Undercover Operation That Caught Daniel Morcombe's Killer, or any violence. It doesn't use the Queensland schoolboy's name, or have actors portray him or his family. This was always going to be an inherently discomforting and distressing movie, though, but it's also an unwaveringly intelligent and impressive examination of trauma. There's no other word to describe what Mark and Rylett experience — and, especially as it delves into Mark's psychological state as he juggles his job with being a single father, The Stranger is a film about tolls. What echoes do investigating and seeking justice for an atrocious act leave? Here, the portrait is understandably bleak and anguished. What imprint do such incidences have upon society more broadly? That also falls into the movie's examination. Mark, along with a sizeable group of fellow officers, is trying to get a confession and make an arrest. Back east, Rylett is one of the police who won't and can't let the situation go. Doling out its narrative in a structurally ambitious way, The Stranger doesn't directly address the human need for resolution, or to restore a semblance of order and security after something so heinously shocking, but that's always baked into its frames anyway. Travelling across the country, Henry first meets a stranger on a bus, getting chatting to Paul (Steve Mouzakis, Clickbait) en route. It's the possibility of work that hooks the ex-con and drifter — perhaps more so knowing that his potential new gig will be highly illicit, and that evading the authorities is implicit. Soon he meets Mark, then seizes the opportunity to reinvent himself in a criminal organisation, not knowing that he's actually palling around with the cops. It's an immense sting, fictionalised but drawn from actuality, with The Stranger also playing as a procedural. The connecting the dots-style moves remain with Rylett, but Wright's decision to hone in on the police operation still means detailing how to catch a killer, astutely laying out the minutiae via action rather than chatting through the bulk of the ins and outs. When Wright made his initial leap behind the camera after almost two decades on-screen — an acting resume that spans a range of weighty fare, such as Van Diemen's Land, Balibo, Top of the Lake, The Bridge and Sweet Country — he spun a tale of two men connecting, entangling and grappling with hard truths. Acute Misfortune and The Stranger are immensely different movies in a plethora of ways, even if both do find their basis in IRL situations, but there's no missing their common central dynamic. While The Stranger wouldn't be the film it is without its time with Rylett, and with the phenomenal Alberts in that key role, the interplay between Mark and Henry retains its core focus. To be accurate, Mark sits squarest in its spotlight — including surveying the anxiety he feels as a single father tasked with such a case, which plays out in striking domestic and dream sequences — but it isn't a coincidence that Edgerton and Harris are styled to visibly resemble each other. Also never an accident: that The Stranger's male leads turn in transfixing performances, whether guiding the film's viewers through Mark's waking ordeal and literal nightmares, or showing their cause. This is Edgerton and Harris' third project together in mere years, after The King and The Green Knight — but if it wasn't, it'd be clear why both Wright and Edgerton (who produces and optioned the rights to The Sting to begin with) opted for the pairing. The Stranger sears not just with intensity but tension, so much of which jitters whenever the two men share the frame. A blazing car fire aside, the largely muted colours lensed by cinematographer Sam Chiplin (Penguin Bloom) add to the brooding, primal, dread-filled mood. The nervy soundscape by composer and cellist Oliver Coates (Aftersun, and also a Radiohead collaborator) does the same. But The Stranger's faces and bodies, as haunted and unbalanced as they always are, say — and silently scream — everything. Wright wants his audience to observe carefully, and to listen. The feature's sound design toys with this very idea; when a drive with Mark and Henry switches its dialogue to surveillance audio, it's such a straightforward choice, and yet its execution is layered, smart and immensely powerful. There's no such thing as passively and easily viewing The Stranger, it tells us, as does describing calming breathing techniques in its opening moments. Engaging with this movie has to be an active and complicated feat because engaging with the darkness it explores always is. Who retells grim chapters of history, and why and how, aren't questions isolated to Australian cinema, especially with true crime a perennially popular genre on screens large and small — and pages and podcasts, and wherever and however else such tales are told — and with The Stranger, they've surfaced again just a year after bubbling up around Justin Kurzel's Nitram. Like that, this equally exceptional and unsettling film makes plain that interrogating events like these is crucial. Here, it's also transformative for those doing the probing, the world they inhabit and those watching.
