In 1997, Christmas changed. With a single episode of Seinfeld, the world became privy to a new form of holiday celebration that eschewed other traditions and denominations. Instead of a tree, an unadorned pole gets pride of place. Rather than share happy stories, everyone gathered airs their grievances. And, instead of settling down on the couch after a hearty meal, attendees compete in feats of strength. Okay, so maybe you still enjoy tinsel, turkey and street cricket with your family on December 25. Even so, Richmond's Uitgang Bar is making sure you can have some Festivus fun as well. The pub's shindig takes place on Saturday, December 22 and the official Festivus date of December 23. In keeping with tradition, there'll be an airing of grievances led my owner Fraser Rettie, so you can air yours and be infuriated by everyone else's, and a Festivus pole. Not so Seinfeld are the $5 pots, $7 schooners and $9 pints available all weekend and the free sausage sizzle on Sunday. Festivus Weekend will run from 12pm–11pm on Saturday and 12pm–8pm on Sunday.
MPavilion is currently in the midst of its biggest arts program to date, featuring 400 free events across a massive four-month program. And throughout January, the striking space is set to come alive with a range of free eclectic musical performances. First up, you can end the week in style with Friday Night Fiestas. Taking place between 5–7pm every Friday, this happy hour shindig allows you to catch an exciting lineup of local DJs and musicians for free — and with a drink in hand. Friday, January 18 will see Brisbane-based independent record label Tenth Court drop into town and showcase what they elegantly describe as "the wealth of beautiful scumbag talent inhabiting Australia". But the free music doesn't stop there. Polito: A Crimson Audiovisual Lanscape will showcase two duos of collaborators, Robert Downie and Finnian Langham of Polito and performers Arabella Frahn-Starkie and Hillary Goldsmith of Visual Display, in an engrossing improvisational event. Happening Saturday, January 12 from 9–10pm, the groups will respond to each other's on-the-fly creations, generating a highly rhythmic experience. The following Saturday, beloved indie label Bedroom Suck Records presents the third and final instalment of its Music in Exile program. Melbourne neo-soul duo Caseaux O.S.L.O will join creative forces with Amadou Suso, frontman of the Senegambian Jazz Band, and explore the commonalities between hip-hop, ancient musical traditions and storytelling. Finally on Sunday, January 27, Jewel Box Performances will present emerging opera singer and songwriter Jessica Hitchcock. Having recently collaborated with the likes of Jessie Lloyd's Mission Songs Project and Deborah Cheetham's Short Black Opera, Hitchcock will perform songs at MPavilion from her upcoming solo EP — set to be released in May 2019. And, to get you in the mood for these weekend performances, don't miss out on a bit of early morning exercise with Hip Hop Yoga Brunswick. Classes run Fridays at 7.30am and will have you flowing through 45-minutes of groovy hip-hop and R&B. For more information on MPavilion's extensive summer program, visit the website.
Whether you're a lifelong vegan, your dabbling with going without animal products for Veganuary or just love your veggies, Asian street food masters Rice Paper Scissors have the summer feast to fill your hungry stomach. One Saturday a month, the Fitzroy eatery is serving up a vegastation. It's a vegan-only degustation, although that's pretty clear from the name. On January 12, February 9 and March 16, you'll sit down to at least ten plates of delicious dishes, including classic RPS bites, new additions and everything else that ticks both the vegan and yum cha boxes. And, your cruelty-free feast will set you back just $45 per person. Also on offer are vegan cocktail specials, vegan beers and organic wines — because a hefty meal like this deserves a good brew or drop to go with it. Bookings are recommended, but there's no set sitting times as long as you make a date between 11.30am–4pm.
"Why are you a problematic pop star?" filmmaker Steve Loveridge asks M.I.A. "Why don't you just shut up and make a hit?" she counters. The tongue-in-cheek exchange takes place in the opening minutes of documentary Matangi / Maya / M.I.A., but it couldn't better encapsulate the film's message. The world expects its singers, actors and icons to dazzle when they're performing, and then to keep quiet otherwise, as the backlash to any celebrity who states a political opinion continually demonstrates. But, from the outset, that was never going to be M.I.A. She was never going to simply make a splash on stage, appear meek and polite elsewhere, and keep her thoughts to herself. If you don't like that, she doesn't really care. Drawing upon home video footage filmed over decades, compiled by M.I.A.'s art school pal Loveridge and soundtracked by her songs, Matangi / Maya / M.I.A. is a statement. It's a warts-and-all portrait of the Sri Lankan-born British rapper, and obviously an authorised account — but it provides an in-depth chronicle rather than an easy, superficial celebration. The film wants to understand the 'Boyz' and 'Paper Planes' hitmaker, not venerate her. It wants audiences to experience her reality, and to see musicians as more than just famous figures. As the documentary follows M.I.A.'s personal and professional ups and downs, that's hardly a simple process. Born Mathangi Arulpragasam, called Maya by her friends and family, and known to the world under her stage name, M.I.A.'s tale has many parts, any of which could've furnished a film by themselves. If you've danced to her music, or watched when she gave the finger during her 2012 Super Bowl performance, but haven't ever peered deeper, then consider Matangi / Maya / M.I.A. an M.I.A. history lesson. She grew up in war-torn Jaffna until she was 11, when most of her immediate family fled to South London, leaving her Tamil Tiger father fighting at home. Adjusting to life as a refugee in Britain was far from easy, with her performative, provocative nature apparent in early clips. Originally, she actually studied to become a documentary filmmaker, however working for UK band Elastica brought her into the music realm. Scribbling down lyrics for Elastica lead singer Justine Frischmann, recording her debut track on a $300 keyboard, racing up the charts, pairing up with Diplo, singing with Madonna — all of this follows. So does M.I.A.'s first trip back to Sri Lanka, her social activism and plenty of headlines about her political leanings. Frequently seen chatting to the camera, and also giving the film its snippets of audio narration, the singer explains it all: "I had really strong ideas about what music I liked, what made me dance and what I wanted to say". In exploring what M.I.A. wanted to say — and how, and why — Matangi / Maya / M.I.A. takes its cues from its star. Busy and energetic, the doco flits from one chapter in her life to the next like it just can't keep still. That feeling is only heightened by the film's low-res footage, but the immediate, unpolished atmosphere is the entire point. In fact, it's increasingly the driving factor behind most music documentaries today. At a time when social media gives fans access to their idol's thoughts and feelings, movies are following suit. Not only do flicks like Amy, Whitney, Cobain: Montage of Heck and now Matangi / Maya / M.I.A. tell their subject's stories by using their own words, but they use every means at their disposal to convey the chaos and complexity swirling behind the fame. Of course, there's one key difference that distinguishes Matangi / Maya / M.I.A. from other recent music docos that rely heavily on personal, never-before-seen material. Unlike its peers, this isn't an account of tragedy. Instead, it's the movie that Amy Winehouse, Whitney Houston and Kurt Cobain aficionados wish they could watch, and that M.I.A. devotees and newcomers alike will find engaging and fascinating. From her defiant riffing with the director in the movie's initial moments, to her refusal to fit the labels thrust upon her through her career, this is a chronicle of the messiness that comes with being human — whether you're a hip hop star singing at the Grammys, someone fighting for a cause you believe in, or a woman trying to invest meaning in her life and actions. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5dFKKhFmv8
Drinking a beverage and watching a band ranks among life's simplest pleasures. Enjoying one of hundreds of craft beers and ciders from around 50 independent brewers and cideries, while being entertained by DMA'S, Something for Kate, Alex the Astronaut, WAAX, West Thebarton and new super group Loser — now that's how you take something great and make it even better. Ensuring a good time is had by all is part of the aim of the Beer InCider Experience, which is making the jump to Melbourne after five years in Brisbane. It's holding a one-day fest on Saturday, March 2, taking over the Melbourne Showgrounds with its showcase of brews and music, plus delicious food and fun entertainment options. Fixation, Gage Roads, Green Beacon, Balter, Hop Nation, Brick Lane, Coldstream, Killer Sprocket and Two Birds are among the (more than) 20 breweries that'll be quenching your thirst for lagers, ales and more, plus Golden Axe, Frank's, Ten Sixty One and others on the cider front. Expect collaborative beverages and exclusive brews made just for the day, plus local food-slinging folks helping to line your stomach, and even a bout of ping pong. Yes, this truly is the ultimate in drinks-focused festivals. Tickets start from $45 and are on sale now. Images: Beer InCider. Updated January 7.
When a relationship fails, sometimes it ends with fiery passion. Sometimes, love's spark fades slowly. And sometimes, the dying embers scorch the earth. Wildlife charts the downfall of a marriage that flirts with all three phases, all while forest fires rage on the outskirts of a small Montana town. As the physical flames carve a path of destruction, Jeanette (Carey Mulligan) and Jerry Brinson (Jake Gyllenhaal) let years of resentment, frustration and disappointment ignite into a heated blaze that threatens their family. As far as metaphors go, Wildlife's is certainly appropriate. Contrary to how it might sound on the page — obvious, or even clumsy — it's also delicately deployed. Adapting Richard Ford's 1990 novel, actor-turned-writer/director Paul Dano and his co-scribe Zoe Kazan make every moment of this portrait of domestic disharmony blister with aching sadness. Wildlife is a film of haunting pain that's often left unspoken, but that crackles with inescapable force and feeling. It's 1960 when the movie introduces its unhappily wedded couple, as well as their teenage son Joe (Ed Oxenbould). The trio has moved to Great Falls for Jerry's new job as a golf pro at a country club, although any hopes of a blissful fresh start dissipate when he's swiftly fired. Drinking away his discontent and rejecting any work that comes his way, he instead volunteers to fight the flames, leaving his wife and boy at home. Joe waits for his father's hopefully safe return, but Jeanette starts blazing her own trail. First, she gets a job as a swimming instructor to make ends meet; then, she openly has an affair with one of her students, car salesman Warren Miller (Bill Camp). There's another metaphor at Wildlife's core, stemming from its title. Often, the casualties of an inferno decimating bushland aren't human — they're the smaller creatures that get caught in its way. Dano paints all three of the film's key characters as scurrying victims engulfed by a roaring disaster, however he also makes plain that Jeanette and Jerry started this all-consuming emotional fire themselves. Stepping behind the lens for the first time, the Love & Mercy and There Will Be Blood star also extracts all-consuming performances from his actors. Gyllenhaal is a ball of tortured angst, desolated by failing to realise his dreams as a man, a husband and a father, while young Australian actor Oxenbould more than holds his own as the son who can only observe as his family turns to ash. But it's Mulligan, segueing from quietly bearing a life filled with emptiness to wilfully indulging her desires, that burns brightest, and hurts and seethes hardest. Alongside her efforts in acclaimed stage production Skylight, it's finely wrought, career-best work. Indeed, Mulligan's is the kind of performance that helps Wildlife conquer what could've been its biggest obstacle: that scenes from a crumbling marriage have been splashed across the screen many times before. There's such a spark to her portrayal, even when she's in tense and restrained mode, that earns the film its own place alongside greats of the marital woe genre like Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Blue Valentine and Revolutionary Road. That said, the same description also fits Dano's filmmaking, as he crafts a movie that overflows with emotion even when it couldn't feel more careful and meticulous. Just looking at its artful frames gives that very impression, with each deliberate, patient, mostly still image of nondescript interiors, smoke-filled skies and struggling faces proving as sweeping as the film's simmering sentiments. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=00tyPOTDCG8
When Best F(r)iends: Volume One hit screens earlier this year, it was the film that had to happen. Tommy Wiseau and Greg Sestero couldn't just give the world the so-bad-it's-amazing gift that is The Room and leave it at that, after all. And thanks to the surprisingly watchable flick's name, we all knew what would be coming next: Best F(r)iends: Volume Two. Yep, the duo's first disasterpiece became the basis for Sestero's ace behind-the-scenes book The Disaster Artist, and then the oh-so spot-on movie adaptation of the same name — and now their second effort is wrapping up with its second part. Prepare to throw plastic gold teeth rather than plastic spoons at the screen, or just show up wearing a bloody shirt. If you want to say "oh hi" to someone, that's obviously allowed. For those that missed the return of Wiseau's long, greasy locks in Best F(r)iends: Volume One, it sees the world's most distinctive actor play a mortician, with Sestero also starring as a drifter who starts selling off gold teeth extracted from dead bodies. It's somewhat inspired by a true story, with Sestero writing the script based on a road trip he really took with Wiseau. The man forever known as The Room's Mark also says that Best F(r)iends: Volume Two his favourite thing he's ever done. If you're so filled with excitement that you feel like storming onto a rooftop and throwing a bottle, don't stress — just like the first part, the second film is coming to Sydney. It'll screen at the Cinema Nova at 6.40pm on Thursday, December 11. Even better, Sestero will be in attendance to answer all of your questions. Just don't ask him how his sex life is, obviously. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OTu9N40E_MI
Halloween is reaching its creepy tendrils all over the city — and its fish — this October. On Friday, October 26, Sea Life Melbourne Aquarium will present a Halloween edition of Sea Life Nights — and if you had never considered cute little penguins aiding in your quest for a good night out, think again. While we think what lives under the sea (sharp-toothed sharks, spiny stingrays, giant octopuses, chainsaw-like sawfish...) is spooky enough, there'll also be zombie bartenders, roving performers and a costume competition. And you won't need to worry about side-stepping littlies either — it's an adults-only affair this time round. The $59 ticket price includes a cocktail and canapé on arrival, and four hours of exploring all the sea creatures (the event runs till 10pm).
The Coburg Night Market will return for its ninth year and will take place over four Friday evenings from November 30 to December 21. Pop over for an al fresco meal and drinks before perusing the local artisan stalls set up throughout the evening. And once you've had your dinner, you'll find a show with live music running on two stages throughout the evening. One stage will be dedicated to local bands from Aarght Records, while the other will be occupied by Hope Street DJs. As always, there will be a vast array of food and and goods from a fully stocked bar on offer — the full food lineup will be announced closer to the market dates. The Coburg Night Market takes place at Bridges Reserve from 5.30 till 10pm.
Blue skies and scenic coastal sights will brighten Melbourne's cinemas between Wednesday, October 10 and Sunday, October 21, with the Greek Film Festival coming to town. Marking its 25th year, this showcase of Hellenic filmmaking will 16 features at Palace Como and The Astor Theatre — including ten brand new flicks and a six-movie retrospective focusing on Greek comedies. In the latest and greatest camp, the festival kicks off with World War II drama The Last Note, charting events leading up to the execution of 200 Greek war prisoners in the Chaidari concentration camp. At the other end of the fest comes something completely different with closing night's Smuggling Hendrix, about a man's attempts to rescue his runaway dog from the UN border between Greek and Turkish Nicosia. Elsewhere, viewers can see the latest Greek Weird Wave effort, Pity, which is co-written by The Lobster and Dogtooth co-scribe Efthimis Filippou — or check out Jamaica, about two brothers reuniting after a tragedy. Drama Happy Birthday takes inspiration from the street demonstrations that rocked Athens in 2008, while comedy-thriller Rosemarie follows a soap opera writer who borrows storylines from his real-life neighbours, and sequel The Bachelor 2 has been compared to The Hangover movies. There's also a touch of Australia in the lineup, thanks to Melbourne-set local flick West of Sunshine. After premiering at last year's Venice Film Festival, director Jason Raftopoulos' debut effort about a man trying to settle his gambling debts while taking care of his primary school-aged son has been doing the rounds of Aussie cinemas all year. The warm-hearted social realist drama also features a fantastic performance from Pawno's Damien Hill, who sadly passed away last month.
We love gelato. You love gelato. Everyone loves gelato. But do you really appreciate it? Could you appreciate it more? When it comes to Gelato Messina's frosty sweet treats, you mightn't think that's possible. That's where their Gelato Appreciation Classes come in, however. For two hours on a Saturday morning — with Melbourne's next sessions scheduled monthly from February to October in 2019 — you'll get a double scoop of gelato goodness. We're talking about learning plus eating (don't worry, you'll actually get much, much, much more ice cream than just two serves). Taking care of the first part of the class, Messina's gelato wizards will talk you through the company's story, share their secrets and show you how it's all done. If you've ever wondered how they perfect their flavours or what goes in to making one of their delectable cakes, you're about to find out. Then comes the main event, and we speak from experience when we say you'll want to wear something loose and comfy. Eat your way through a five-course gelato degustation, with the menu specially created for each session. Taste as many of Messina's flavours as you can (you can even taste everything in the cabinet if you can manage it). Finally, take your pick of flavours for a take-home pack, and enjoy your weekend-long gelato coma. Sessions take place at Messina's Fitzroy shop, with tickets costing $160 per person. They're certain to book out fast — in fact, at the time of writing, only classes from May to October are still available.
Come Friday, March 22, it's time for a night at the museum — but you won't find Ben Stiller roaming the halls here. Rather, given what'll be on display at Queensland Museum at the time, the revelry will feel a little out of this world. Walking, talking, drinking and partying like you're on the moon is on the agenda at QM's latest After Dark shindig, which is all about soaring beyond the earth as part of the museum's NASA — A Human Adventure showcase. There'll be music, drinks and demonstrations — plus attendees will get free reign, peering not only at the a whole host of exhibits about space featuring more than 250 items, including pieces that have actually been to space, but also feasting your eyes on the rest of the joint's displays. You'll be knocking back beverages; examining rocket engines, space food, space suits, lunar cameras and moon boots; and pondering life beyond our pale blue dot — and the fun coincides with this year's World Science Festival Brisbane, so there'll be plenty of science (yeah!) coming your way. A word of warning: these shindigs often sell out so you'll want to nab a ticket quickly.
Whether you're a pro marathon runner or a casual jogger, running is a lot more fun — and a lot easier — when you're gazing out at beautiful views. To that end, the Great Ocean Road Running Festival takes place along one of Australia's most scenic routes. Happening for the 13th year in a row on Saturday, May 18 and Sunday, May 19, the event offers a race for runners of every kind, as well as a host of other happenings, including live music, film screenings and yoga sessions. At one end, there's the 60-kilometre ultra marathon. At the other, there's the five-kilometre Lorne Hotel run or walk. Whichever race you join, your registration gets you free entry to everything else going on across the weekend. Pop into Lorne Theatre to catch the latest flick, the Lorne Hotel to catch some live music, or Lorne Sea Baths for a post-run dip. Free yoga classes and pre-marathon warm-ups (for runners) will also be happening at festival hubs in both Lorne and Apollo Bay.
When 2020 rolls around, the Melbourne Queer Film Festival will hit its 30th year. That's a huge milestone, but everyone knows that turning 29 is just as important — it's the huge hurrah before the other huge hurrah, and it's what MQFF will be celebrating for 12 busy, cinema-filled days between Thursday, March 12 and Monday, March 25. Highlighting 141 features, documentaries and shorts over 106 sessions — and yes, it's counting — this year's fest is going big in a variety of ways. The numbers tell part of the story. The big titles tell another part, including opening night's Papi Chulo, with Matt Bomer as an LA weather man. On closing night, attendees will be greeted with the Australian premiere of the Kristen Stewart and Laura Dern-starring Jeremiah Terminator LeRoy night, relaying a wild literary true tale that has to be seen to be believed. There's also Wild Nights With Emily, which boasts Molly Shannon as acclaimed poet Emily Dickinson; and Mapplethorpe, about the acclaimed and controversial photographer, and with Matt Smith worlds away from his Doctor Who days. When the festival hits up Village Cinemas Jam Factory, ACMI and Cinema Nova, other highlights include Kenyan romance Rafiki, which was initially banned on home turf; tender French drama Sorry, Angel, one of the standouts of last year's Melbourne International Film Festival; and 2018 Sydney Film Festival prize winner The Heiresses, from Paraguay. And on the doco front, Life in the Doghouse explores the tale of two men who turned their home into a dog sanctuary post-Hurricane Katrina, Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood is a Golden Age tell-all focusing on Scotty Bowers, and Making Montgomery Clift focuses on the titular cinema idol.
UPDATE, September 24, 2020: On the Basis of Sex is available to stream via Binge, Foxtel Now, Google Play and YouTube Movies. For the second time in the past year, Ruth Bader Ginsburg graces the silver screen. On the Basis of Sex might come hot on the heels of 2018's Oscar-nominated documentary RBG, but this won't be the last time its subject gets the cinema treatment. The celebrated US Supreme Court Justice also pops up as a mini-figure in The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part, which sums up her current status — Ginsburg isn't just one of America's current top judges, or a pioneering legal champion, but a pop culture icon as well. As the years keep passing, filmmakers will keep telling her tale, simply because there's just that much to tell. The first dramatised version of Ginsburg's life, On the Basis of Sex focuses on her early career, but consider it merely the beginning in several senses of the word. Before achieving her current professional and popular standing, as well as her 'Notorious RBG' nickname, Ginsburg (Felicity Jones) was one of the first women accepted into Harvard Law School. But while she shared the top spot in her graduating class — a feat she managed while helping her unwell husband Martin (Armie Hammer) through his legal studies and raising the couple's children — job offers didn't follow. In 50s and 60s America, firms were openly reluctant to hire a female attorney. It's this type of engrained, everyday sexism that steels Ginsburg for the battle that she's now synonymous with. Rallying against legislation that discriminates on the basis of sex, Ginsburg made her name crusading for gender equality, as director Mimi Leder (Pay It Forward) and screenwriter Daniel Stiepleman (the Justice's nephew) chronicle. On the Basis of Sex could've drawn from decades of material, however narrowing the film's focus is a savvy choice. So is highlighting one particular 1972 case, where Charles Moritz (Chris Mulkey) was denied a tax refund for costs related to caring for his ailing mother. With Ruth largely ignored in her quest to expose the inequitable standing of women, both Ginsburgs knew they had something special when they discovered a man being overlooked and discriminated against in the same way. It was her first case of its kind, but the fact that the future judge made a splash with this matter — fighting for a man taking on a traditionally female task — makes an enormous, damning statement about US society at the time. There's much that incites anger in On the Basis of Sex, from the dismissive treatment meted out to Ginsburg time and time again, to the male-dominated domain that she's forced to navigate — an attitude that wasn't just widely accepted, but was solidified in law. There's much in the movie that inspires, too, not only including Ginsburg herself, but her marriage with Martin. Leder proves patient and poignant with her direction, displaying immense reverence for Ginsburg, all that she's faced and everything that she represents, yet never feeling the need to over-stress the importance of the future judge's achievements. The narrative's details do the talking, while the craft of the film remains restrained and respectful. It's the standard broad, celebratory biopic framework, complete with gentle pacing, warm hues and handsome imagery, but in recreating the life of someone with such quiet, commanding power, it works. This may be a prestige portrait through and through, but it's effective. The fact that the movie's central double-act thoroughly hit their marks also assists. Jones brings determination and assurance to her starring part, Hammer plays Martin as thoughtfully aware of the challenges blighting his wife's career, and together they make a winning team through the story's ups and downs. While it's infuriating that it took a man's case to spark Ginsburg's rise to prominence, the support that she receives from Martin doesn't evoke the same response. Crucially, however, this isn't a tale about a noble man standing behind a great woman, but of a partnership that helped Ruth overcome obstacles that were never even an issue for her husband. Of course, On the Basis of Sex never forgets who its paying tribute to, not even for a moment. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jtzesNEmVhs
If a fresh bread roll, an expertly grilled patty and a slice of melted cheese is your idea of a perfect meal, then you probably have May 28 permanently marked in your diary. Each and every year, that's when the world's most dedicated burger lovers celebrate their favourite food. We're not saying that burgs will taste better on that date — or that it's really a legitimate day of celebration — but if you just can't get enough of the them, it's definitely worth your attention. Especially if there are free burgers involved. Which, this year, there are. Burger Project will be slinging free cheeseburgers at all three of its Melbourne stores from 11am–12pm on Tuesday, May 28. There will only be 50 up for grabs at each joint, so you'll have to make sure you're one of the first through the doors at 555 Bourke Street, St Collins Lane or Chadstone. For those new to Burger Project's take on an old fave, Neil Perry's eatery whips up a hand-pressed slab of Cape Grim beef, layers it with pickles, onion, mustard and cheese, then squirts on some secret sauce. Next, it's all placed between a soft milk bun. And it tastes even better when it's free. Given that this free-for-all is a first in, best dressed affair, we recommend scheduling an early lunch break that day.
On the lookout for a dope new denim jacket? Or do you want to be rid of that weird-looking lamp taking up space in the living room? Then, by golly, you're in luck. The Garage Sale Trail works with local council partners Australia-wide to get as many trash-and-treasure troves happening on the same day as possible. More than 18,000 garages are expected to open their doors to bargain hunters, selling two million items, when the event returns for its tenth time across the weekend of Saturday, October 19 and Sunday, October 20. Aside from the retro goodies up for grabs, the Trail is all about sustainability. Instead of ending up in landfill, unwanted clutter becomes a fantastic find. So get that tight pair of sunnies for peanuts and help the environment at the same time. The Garage Sale Trail began humbly in Bondi in 2010 and is growing bigger every year. There'll be a right slew of sales happening all around Melbourne, so keep your eyes on the event website — or register online from Saturday, August 10 to make a quick buck from your old junk and hang out with the friendly folks in your hood.
Historic Melbourne cinema The Astor is hosting its Great Astor Spooktacular again for 2019, and it's going big. This year, more than nine movies will be be shown in an all-night horror marathon — right in time for Halloween. Directed by "Lucifer himself" and featuring a cast of "the hounds of hell", some of the films include the retro fun of Dawn of the Dead, The Slumber Party Massacre, A Nightmare on Elm Street and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre — plus 90s classic Scream, 2009 standout Drag Me to Hell and the suitably unnerving The House of the Devil. The historic cinema, known for its presentation of classics and cult films, is the perfect venue to settle in for the evening, clutch a big bucket of popcorn, and get spooked over and over and over again. It all kicks off at 7pm on Saturday, October 26 and runs overnight. With a few dark and twisted flicks on the bill — and a few surprises — needless to say, this one isn't for the faint of heart.
This is not a single event, but rather a collection. The Regional Centre for Culture is an initiative from Creative Victoria aiming to celebrate the land and culture of which the Dja Dja Wurrung and Taungurung peoples are traditional custodians. Across an entire year, it's highlighting local events and experiences throughout the region so you can fill almost every day with a cultural adventure. Among the plethora of offerings are special events, such as a day dedicated to sustainable housing; exhibitions, including the Paul Guest Prize for contemporary drawing at Bendigo Art Gallery; and the magnificent BendArts Festival, a week-long affair of shows, workshops and performances. There's also Demolish, a theatrical performance exploring the intangible connection between landscape, life and the future. The show will take place at Bendigo Showgrounds from December 11–15. Rosalind Park is the hub for many of Bendigo's program highlights including Yapenya, a free ceremonial song and dance event on Saturday, November 17; and Poppet, an interactive performance on Rosalind Park's poppet head, using light projection, shadow puppetry and aerial dancing on Saturday, October 20. But these are very much the tip of the iceberg. The Regional Centre of Culture invites you to meander through its many, many happenings. You can plan ahead using one of the pre-designed itineraries.
Tucked into a small, unassuming storefront on the busy Hopkins Street, this buzzing little sandwich shop pumps out authentic Vietnamese banh mi at under $6 a pop. That said, you can double up on fillings and still not break the bank — it's rare that you'll be dropping more than $6.50. There are eight sandwiches on offer, which can be filled with all the traditional trimmings like pâté, pickled carrot, coriander, daikon and, of course, chilli. The no-nonsense shop embraces everything that an authentic (albeit Australianised) version of a banh mi should; from the bright, laminated menu on the back wall, to the clear counter of fresh ingredients between you and the cheery, efficient staff. It's a no-brainer if you need a quick, fresh and satisfying feed on your lunch break, or as you're strolling the streets of Footscray taking in all that this richly diverse suburb has to offer. Images: Julia Sansone
If you don't believe that Fast X will be one of the Fast and Furious franchise's last films, which you shouldn't, then it's time to face a different realisation. Now 22 years old, this family-, street racing- and Corona-loving "cult with cars" saga — its own words in this latest instalment — might one day feature every actor ever in its always-expanding cast. Dying back in 2013 hasn't stopped Paul Walker from regularly appearing a decade on. He's the first of the core F&F crew to be seen in Fast X, in fact, thanks to a flashback to 2011's Fast Five that explains why the series' flamboyant new villain has beef with the usual Vin Diesel (Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3)-led faces. Playing said antagonist is Jason Momoa (Dune), who adds another high-profile name to a roster that also gains Brie Larson (Ms Marvel), Rita Moreno (West Side Story), Daniela Melchior (The Suicide Squad), Alan Ritchson (Reacher) and Walker's daughter Meadow this time around. It's no wonder that this 11th flick in the franchise (yes spinoff Hobbs & Shaw counts) clocks in at an anything-but-swift 141 minutes. It's also hardly surprising that living on-screen life a quarter mile at a time now seems more like a variety show than a movie, at least where all that recognisable talent is involved. There are so many people to stuff into Fast X that most merely get wheeled out for their big moment or, if they're lucky, a couple. Some bring comedy (the long-running double act that is End of the Road's Ludacris and Morbius' Tyrese Gibson), others steely glares and frenetic fight scenes (The School for Good and Evil and Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves' always-welcome Charlize Theron and Michelle Rodriguez, respectively), or just reasons to keep bringing up Walker's retired Brian O'Conner (which is where Who Invited Charlie?'s Jordana Brewster still fits in). When more than a few actors pop up, it feels purely obligatory, like the F&F realm just can't exist now without a glimpse of Jason Statham's (Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre) scowl or getting Helen Mirren (Shazam! Fury of the Gods) going cockney. Do too many drivers and offsiders spoil the Point Break-but-cars hijinks? Not completely, but the high-octane saga's jam-packed cast is now a roadblock. It certainly can't have helped screenwriter Justin Lin, the director of The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift, Fast & Furious, Fast Five, Fast & Furious 6, F9 and initially Fast X until leaving a week into production, and his co-scribe Dan Mazeau (Wrath of the Titans). Their script sports an overarching plot, with Momoa's Dante Reyes avenging the death of his drug-lord father five films back, but it's really about servicing the required parts. Oh-so-many folks require some screentime; all the usual heist, chase and race antics have to drop in; everyone needs to jet between the US, Italy, Brazil, the UK, Antarctica and Portugal; family must be mentioned approximately 423,000 times; and Diesel's Dominic Toretto demands a few of beats to act as if Brian is dead even though he remains alive in the series' storyline. That's the to-do list that Lin, Mazeau, and Statham's The Transporter and The Transporter 2 filmmaker-turned-Fast X helmer Louis Leterrier tick through — and tick they do. Dom and the fam, including his abuelita (Moreno) and son Little Brian (Leo Abelo Perry, Cheaper by the Dozen), get an early backyard barbecue, waxing lyrical under the Los Angeles sun about the ties that bind. Then Roman (Gibson), Tej (Ludacris), Han (Sung Kang, Obi-Wan Kenobi) and Ramsey (Nathalie Emmanuel, The Invitation) go to Rome for a job that goes wrong, and ex-adversary Cipher (Theron) shows up bruised and bloody on Dom and Letty's (Rodriguez) doorstep talking about the devil. The common factor: Reyes, who has declared war on the extended Toretto brood without them knowing he exists. They should've expected him, though, given that battling family members — of past enemies and, when John Cena (Peacemaker) joined in F9 as Dom's brother Jakob, their own — is another box-checking saga staple. Almost every newcomer to the franchise, both here and in general, is related to someone else. That's how deep the series' family values go. And yet, for a saga that started embracing its ridiculousness when Dwayne Johnson (Black Adam) jumped aboard — also in Fast Five; you can't have Diesel, Johnson and later Statham bashing their sweaty heads together without having a sense of humour about it — it plays the soap opera-esque parade of kin (and the well-known actors being them) too straight. Fast X knows how outlandish it and its predecessors are with stunts, even if no one rockets to space this time. It says cheers over Mexican beers to its established cliches as well. And it joyfully has Momoa get giddily OTT as the scrunchie-wearing, "awesome!"-spouting, Joker-esque Dante, visibly having a ball doing so. But the so-earnest-it's-playful deliriousness that should always hum through these tales of petty thieves-turned-international spies is often revved over by needing to shoehorn in another character, then another, then more, whether they've been fam since day one or they're making their debut. It's doubtful that it's on purpose, but Fast X practises what Dom preaches, making its audience appreciate the simple things. There's nothing uncomplicated about the movie's hyper-stylised stunt choreography, with its giant pinballing bombs and reggaeton drag racing — the latter soundtracked by Daddy Yankee's 'Gasolina', of course — but the film is lighter and livelier when it strips itself down to its pedal-to-the-metal and fist-throwing basics. That's when there's an energy to now seven-time F&F cinematographer Stephen F Windon's whooshing and whirling lensing, too, especially when he's gliding through windshields while engines are purring in a Rio-set moment. Smartly, Theron and Rodriguez are gifted an impressively staged fray that screams for them to have their own spinoff. And when helicopters are being flung at each other by a Dodge Charger, it's pure dumb action-flick fun. While those choppers are swooping and crashing, revhead-in-training Little Brian can't help exclaiming with excitement. Fast X isn't ready to usher the saga's big-screen entries into Fast and Furious: The Next Generation just yet — it will eventually, sometime after this chapter's one confirmed sequel and likely second follow-up get motoring, although animated Netflix series Fast & Furious Spy Racers got there first — but that glee is exactly what Diesel and company want their audience to share. This is a thrill ride in fits and starts, however. At its worst, including with its stop-mid-scene cliffhanger, it's franchise-extending filler that never-ending sagas like the Marvel Cinematic Universe have made the gear-grinding norm. But when Fast X pumps the gas on turbocharged vehicular lunacy rather than playing connect-the-dots and spot-the-famous-face, giving four Oscar-winning actresses too little to do and dropping in hardly surprising guest appearances, it's an entertaining-enough spin down a well-driven road.
As part of the flurry of streaming services always competing for our eyeballs, FanForce TV joined the online viewing fold during the COVID-19 pandemic as a pay-per-view platform. The service runs all year round, of course, but it goes the extra mile for National Reconciliation Week, which is when it hosts the First Nations Film Festival (previously known as the Virtual Indigenous Film Festival). In 2023, that event will take place between Tuesday, May 30–Saturday, June 3, all solely online. The returning fest will focus on something different on each of the five days, starting with the Richard Bell-focused documentary You Can Go Now, then moving onto documentaries Alick and Albert and The Lake of Scars. There's also shorts by up-and-coming First Nations talent, plus anthology feature We Are Still Here as the fest's big finale. At this at-home screen celebration, you'll enjoy watching your way through an array of Aussie content focused on Indigenous stories, spanning both dramas and documentaries — and exploring race relations in the process. Viewers can tune in on a film-by-film basis, or buy an all-access pass to tune into everything. Movies screen at set times, running twice each day: at 1pm and 7pm AEST.
All truth, no fiction: if that's how you like your movies, then you'll want to hit up the Australian International Documentary Conference when it returns to Melbourne for 2023 from Sunday, March 5–Wednesday, March 8. Each year, this celebration of factual filmmaking hits up the Australian Centre for the Moving Image in Federation Square to talk about the format and screen flicks — and its 2023 lineup is mighty impressive. This year's Oscar-nominees for Best Documentary Feature are a big highlight in a variety of ways, including three of the directors getting chatting — and responding to AIDC's 2023 theme 'agents of change. So, you can hear from Fire of Love filmmaker Sara Dosa about how she made one of the best movies of 2022; from Canadian helmer Daniel Roher, who'll talk through compelling political doco Navalny; and from Indian director Shaunak Sen about the Cannes and Sundance award-winning All That Breathes. Some sessions are only for conference delegates, with pass details varying. But there's also a number of public screenings that you can snap up individual tickets to, including of fellow Academy Award contender All the Beauty and the Bloodshed — the 2022 Venice Film Festival Golden Lion-winning documentary about queer artist Nan Goldin, her life and career, and her battle against the billionaire Sackler family. Or, you can check out wild New Zealand doco Mister Organ, which tells a tale so chaotic it can only be true, and hear from filmmaker David Farrier about the whole ordeal captured in the film. You Can Go Now, which explores Richard Bell art and career alongside the history of First Nations activism over the past 50 years, is also on the jam-packed lineup.
It's been half a century since The Rocky Horror Show first brought its musical blend of sci-fi, horror and comedy to the stage, and the cult hit itself has the perfect phrase to describe those quickly passing years. Yes, time is fleeting when you're singing about a college-aged couple getting a flat tyre, wandering over to an old castle to ask for help, and finding an extra-terrestrial mad scientist from the galaxy of Transylvania — plus his staff and his Frankenstein-style experiments — awaiting. Yes, the show itself is astounding, too. To celebrate this big anniversary, a new Australian production of The Rocky Horror Show is currently touring the country, starting in Sydney then moving to Adelaide and Melbourne. And, for one night only, the Sydney season is beaming one of its shows into cinemas as well — live as it's all happening at the Theatre Royal Sydney. Movie-goers can do the 'Time Warp' in Melbourne cinema aisles from 7.15pm on Thursday, March 30, which is when the Richard O'Brien-created production will be broadcast from the stage to the screen. In the process, The Rocky Horror Show will notch up a first. For Trafalgar Releasing, who is behind a heap of event cinema-style sessions like this, this is the first time that it has presented a live event from an Aussie venue to cinemas across the nation. Folks hitting up big screens around the country will want to listen closely, and watch, as Jason Donovan as Frank N Furter puts his hands on his hips, then brings his knees in tight. The glorious madness will take its toll with help not only from Donovan — fresh from popping back up in Ramsay Street to farewell Neighbours before it was renewed again — but also from Spicks and Specks' Myf Warhurst as The Narrator. Also featuring: Ellis Dolan (School of Rock) as Eddie/Dr Scott, Darcey Eagle (Cruel Intentions: The 90s Musical) as Columbia, Ethan Jones (9 to 5 The Musical) as Brad, Deirdre Khoo (Once) as Janet, Loredo Malcolm (Hamilton) as Rocky and Henry Rollo (Jagged Little Pill the Musical) as Riff Raff. Of course, this tale is no stranger to cinemas thanks to 1975's iconic big-screen release The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Since first premiering in London in June 1973, The Rocky Horror Show has played in more than 30 countries, with over 30 million people seeing songs like 'Science Fiction/Double Feature', 'Dammit, Janet!', 'Sweet Transvestite', 'Over at the Frankenstein Place' and 'Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me'. If you haven't been before and can't make it to the current theatre tour, this is your turn to join in. Images: Daniel Boud.
Sydney Sweeney is ready for her closeup. Playwright-turned-filmmaker Tina Satter obliges. A household name of late due to her exceptional work in both Euphoria and The White Lotus, Sweeney has earned the camera's attention for over a decade; however, she's never been peered at with the unflinching intensity of Satter's debut feature Reality. For much of this short, sharp and stunning docudrama, the film's star lingers within the frame. Plenty of the movie's 83-minute running time devotes its focus to her face, staring intimately and scrutinising what it sees. Within Reality's stranger-than-fiction narrative, that imagery spies a US Air Force veteran and National Security Agency translator in her mid-twenties, on what she thought was an ordinary Saturday. It's June 3, 2017, with the picture's protagonist returning from buying groceries to find FBI agents awaiting at her rented Augusta, Georgia home, then accusing her of "the possible mishandling of classified information". Reality spots a woman facing grave charges, a suspect under interrogation and a whistleblower whose fate is already known to the world. It provides a thriller of a procedural with agents, questions, allegations and arrests; an informer saga that cuts to the heart of 21st-century American politics, and its specific chaos since 2016; and an impossible-to-shake tragedy about how authority savagely responds to being held to account. Bringing her stage production Is This a Room: Reality Winner Verbatim Transcription to the screen after it wowed off-Broadway and then Broadway, Satter dedicates Reality's bulk to that one day and those anxious minutes, unfurling in close to real time — but, pivotally, it kicks off three weeks earlier with its namesake at work while Fox News plays around her office. Why would someone leak to the media a restricted NSA report about Russian interference in getting Donald Trump elected? Before it recreates the words genuinely spoken between its eponymous figure and law enforcement, Reality sees the answer as well. Reality Winner boasted a moniker that no one would forget long before the events that she'd make international headlines for, and have inspired a play and now a film. Still, she couldn't have suspected, nor her father who gave it to her, that so many folks would learn who she was and what she's called — or why they'd do so. Satter's movie is in dialogue with its subject's distinctive name. It surveys Reality and reality by using reality, and it observes no winners. There's also no escaping the fact that reality is both precarious and subjective when it comes to Winner's deeds and others like them: Trump has been indicted for mishandling classified documents himself, with boxes of them found in his Mar-a-Lago home, but the likelihood of his penalty eclipsing the longest-ever sentence given by a US federal court for releasing government information is miniscule. Everything is average, standard and nondescript when Winner (Sweeney, also a Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and The Handmaid's Tale alum) pulls up outside of her house to discover an audience. Satter scripts with James Paul Dallas (Halston's archival producer), enlisting Paul Yee (Joy Ride) as Reality's cinematographer, plus Jennifer Vecchiarello (Thor: Love and Thunder) and Ron Dulin (Resurrection) as editors — and, before agents Garrick (Josh Hamilton, The Walking Dead) and Taylor (Marchánt Davis, A Journal for Jordan) start talking, the scene that the film spins, sees and splices couldn't appear more commonplace. The daytime sunlight streaming down doesn't brighten. Winner's brick abode could sit on any block almost anywhere. She's sans makeup, wearing a white shirt and cutoffs that she wouldn't have thought twice about. And, once the chatting begins, peppered as it is with routine small talk, it too is mundane. Is Winner thirsty? What's the best way to handle her rescue dog? Will her cat bolt if the door is left open? Is there somewhere private, away from the other agents executing search warrants for her house, car and phone, where the trio can head to? These details comprise much of the early conversation, as laced with ums, aahs and awkward pauses. With no disrespect to the best screenwriters — the best at procedurals, too — every word and gap in Reality could've only sprung from real life. And there are purposeful holes, thanks to part of the chat remaining redacted in the publicly released transcripts that Satter works with. Her inventive and perceptive solution: glitching in and out, having the people affected disappear and reappear, and reminding audiences oh-so-savvily that every single take on reality is always just that, a take, and should always be inspected and unpacked. With talk echoing — especially in a room that Winner doesn't usually use, describes as "weird" and "creepy", and looks as close as a space in someone's home can to a prison cell — Reality steps through why the agents are there, what they're chasing, their suspect's tale and her reaction. As crucial as words are to the film, and the exact words uttered off-screen at that, they only tell part of the story. They explain that Winner can speak Farsi, Pashto and Dari; aspires to be deployed to Afghanistan; trains in CrossFit and teaches yoga; and owns guns, including a pink AR-15. They establish Garrick as playing the nice guy among the FBI cohort, and Taylor as affable but sterner. They eventually lay out what Winner is accused of doing, and how. Satter witnesses what isn't spoken, though, such as the rigid physicality that sits in stark contrast to the agents' warmer tone — and the displays of force that are everywhere, simply because the FBI is everywhere, when Winner is permitted to squeeze into her kitchen to put her perishables away. As every meticulously calculated stylistic choice ramps up the stress, Nathan Micay's (Industry) jittery score among them — and as Sweeney delivers a phenomenal masterclass in microexpressions that's a career-best performance to-date — Reality spots a gut-punch of an inescapable truth as well. We hope, think and are led to believe, aided by movies and TV shows, that significant instances and incidents feel significant; and yet big moments aren't actually always big moments, even when whistleblowing, revealing state secrets and the legal response are involved. Indeed, the movie's ripped-from-reality look and dialogue, plus its central naturalistic performance, are all calibrated to reinforce that sometimes life changes drastically when nothing huge initially seems to. Winner's existence was forever altered by the scenes that Satter displays, but Reality knows that no one was shouting and screaming that that was the case as it occurred. More than that, and with gripping chills and dripping dread, it puts viewers in Winner's shoes as her world turns — and ours — but the world keeps turning.
If you're a devourer of books and words, you can look forward to feasting on a hefty lineup of talks, workshops, panels and other literature-loving events when the Emerging Writers' Festival returns for 2023. While the days of all-digital instalments are behind us, the fest won't just be hosting a jam-packed program of IRL sessions — handily, especially for folks outside of Melbourne, a stack of them will also be accessible online. Running from Wednesday, June 14–Saturday, June 24, this year's edition has events for all varieties of lit-lover and writing enthusiast. Opening night features a session on truth telling by Naarm's Sofii Belling-Harding, Yaraan Bundle, Lay Maloney, Patrick Mercer and Elijah Money; the return of the National Writers' Conference will deliver a day of panels, workshops and pitching sessions; Voiceworks will celebrate its latest issue; and a dinner at Willows and Wine will get you sharing erotica prose and poetry. For fans of all things spooky, Scream Scenes will tell eerie tales with matching cinema projections at Thornbury Picture House. Sports writing, spoken word, writing TV, intergenerational stories, radical memoirs, the intersection of hip hop and literature: they all get their time to shine, too. You can also up your own writing skills with an array of masterclasses and workshops — and, for the online crowd, learn about digital ecologies, the ethics of drawing from real life, pitching, researching fiction, genre fiction and more.
If DC Studios could live life like it's a Cher song, would it turn back time to erase the DC Extended Universe, setting itself on an entirely different path instead? With new co-head honchos James Gunn and Peter Safran wrapping up the underwhelming franchise — after 2023's films, The Suicide Squad director and producer are replacing the DC Comics on-screen realm with a new movie saga just called the DC Universe — the answer is likely yes. Does DC Studios regret having to release The Flash, which gives the character played by Ezra Miller since 2016's Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice his own feature, arrives after their past few years of controversies and legal troubles, and comes with a jumping-backwards focus? It must've been better for the bottom line to let the picture flicker before audiences, rather than ditching it after it was finished as happened with Batgirl; however, the response there about lamenting Barry Allen's latest big-screen stint might also be in the affirmative. As was the case with Shazam! Fury of the Gods, and could also be with the DCEU's upcoming Blue Beetle and Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom, a feeling of futility buzzes through The Flash. Plenty happens, featuring an array of caped crusaders and more than one version of Barry, and yet all that tights-wearing sound and fury might signify nothing in the scheme of all things DC. Movies have never needed sequels or franchises to gift their existence a spark. Increasingly, the opposite occurs. Instalment after instalment in ever-sprawling cinema universes are dragged down by being exactly that: a series instalment, rather than their own films. And The Flash does frequently try to be its own feature, but it's also firmly tied to being part of a pop-culture behemoth while eagerly worshipping superhero history. The blatant and overdone nostalgia, the already-announced returns and still-surprise cameos, and the now-overused multiverse setup that assists in linking its narrative together — it all rings empty when it proves so disposable, as the dying DCEU is. Living with your choices, and facing the fact that you can't always take back mistakes and fix traumas, does fittingly sit at the heart of The Flash's narrative, though. While the Barry (Miller, Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore) that audiences have also seen in Suicide Squad, Justice League and Shazam! enters The Flash calling himself "the janitor of the Justice League", answering Alfred's (Jeremy Irons, House of Gucci) calls to clean up Batman's (Ben Affleck, Air) chaos offers a handy distraction from his family situation. Understandably, he's still grief-stricken over his mother's (Maribel Verdú, Raymond & Ray) murder. He's also struggling to prove that his incarcerated father (Ron Livingston, A Million Little Things) wasn't the killer. Cue messing with the space-time continuum, using his super speed to dash backwards to stop his mum from dying — and, as Bruce Wayne warns, cuing the butterfly effect. Back to the Future devotees know what follows when someone tinkers with the past. The Flash director Andy Muschietti (IT, IT: Chapter Two) and screenwriter Christina Hodson (Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn)) count on viewers being familiar with the consequences, and with the Michael J Fox-starring 80s classic. Amid navigating various iterations of its protagonist and, as revealed in its trailers, getting Michael Keaton (Morbius) back in the cape and cowl as the Dark Knight three decades after the last Tim Burton-helmed Batman flick — plus finding time for Supergirl (Sasha Calle, The Young and the Restless) — this DCEU entry splashes around its broader pop-culture nods with gusto. Given that was Gunn's tactic in Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy movies, right down to also mentioning Kevin Bacon and Footloose, perhaps Barry might have a DCU future after all? Whatever happens, The Flash's riffing on and namechecking other beloved films isn't its best trait. There are multiples of much in this movie, which includes multiple ways to slather on fan service. Virtually retracing Marty McFly's footsteps involves that extra Barry, the younger and more OTT of the two — the one aiding the OG Barry in seeing why people can find him a bit much, in fact. It also inspires the comeback of Superman's Kryptonian foe General Zod (Michael Shannon, George & Tammy), as the events of Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice ripple through an alternate timeline. Yes, every superhero saga has become a multiverse saga, everywhere and all at once. The Marvel Cinematic Universe keeps leaning in, while the Spider-Verse films embrace the idea in every gorgeously animated frame. Reuniting with a past Batman was always going to play like a Spider-Man: No Way Home wannabe, but The Flash isn't helped by hitting cinemas so soon after Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, aka the current gold standard in multiple everything, spandex-clad saviours in general and franchise fare. It was true when Tobey Maguire, Andrew Garfield and Tom Holland were all webslinging in the one film, and it's true now with Affleck and Keaton being oh-so-serious here: teaming up past and present takes on the same figure in the same feature can smack of refusing to cut ties with history. That's what nostalgia is all about, of course, and it clashes glaringly with what The Flash endeavours to teach its red-suited namesake. As Barry attempts to protect, nurture and heal his inner child — rather literally — the movie advocates for ultimately accepting life's hardships and moving on. Then it has more and more recognisable faces pop up, including some grave-robbing choices using woeful special effects. With its routine fan-baiting multiverse antics, the picture keeps finding additional ways to ring empty. A film that adores all that's gone before, but exists in the waning days of a dissipating saga. A feature with little future path and too much fondness for the past. A reminder that life goes on that epitomises that very fact within the movie business, yet can't live and breathe it within its frames even as its narrative sings that notion's praises. That's The Flash — and it's also a picture made better by Miller's convincing dual turns, especially when they're at their most vulnerable and melancholy, and particularly when they're on-screen twice in the same scene. It benefits from Keaton's subtlety in an appearance that's anything but within the story, and from Muschietti's eagerness to amuse through the flick's strongest action scenes, as seen in quite the baby shower. Pondering playing god and its repercussions, it also owes a debt to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, as almost everything does. Feeling like disparate pieces that don't stitch together to make the best whole isn't what The Flash was aiming for, however, but it's what's been zapped into cinemas.
Get ready to ring in the winter solstice in a giant thermal pool with a glass of mulled wine in one hand and a blanket of stars overhead. Alba Thermal Springs is running a limited-edition twilight program to celebrate the solstice, as well as World Bathing Day on June 22. The Winter Warming program runs from June 22 to July 31, but it's that first night that's set to be really special. Alba is teaming up with the Astronomical Society of Victoria to host an exclusive, once-off stargazing session. The event starts at 5pm with a Welcome to Country. Your ticket gets you access to Alba's 22 thermal pools, a glass of mulled wine or decadent hot chocolate, plus an all-new winter menu designed by the legendary Karen Martini. Martini will also be there in attendance on June 22, if you want a chance to gush and chat recipes. At 6pm, the main event begins: a special stargazing session at the Luna Pool, hosted by the Astronomical Society of Victoria. So what will night bathing, good food and an entire galaxy set you back? The $80 'Night Owl' package gets you entry, bathing, wine and a canape by the open fire. For the $100 'Dinner Thyme', they'll throw in a one-course meal. Bookings are essential for this one, and spots are limited. Images: Supplied
Spring, plus light- to medium-bodied red wine: what a pairing. It's the duo that not only sits at the heart of Australian wine-tasting festival Pinot Palooza, but has helped the vino-swilling event become such a hit. The weather is sunny, the tipples are heady, and sipping your way through a heap of the latter is on the menu — including in 2023. The Melbourne-born wine tasting festival will celebrate its 11th year by touring the country, including hitting up The Timber Yard in Port Melbourne from Friday, October 27–Saturday, October 28. This two-day affair filled with vino-sipping fun will cover organic, biodynamic, vegan and low-intervention wines, and more, as well as bites to line the stomach. In its decade of life until now, the fest has welcomed in thousands of vino lovers. Indeed, an estimated 65,000 tickets were sold globally before its 2022 events. When COVID-19 hit in 2020, the popular celebration was shelved for two-and-a-half years, before making a comeback last year. The response? More than 12,000 folks heading along around the nation. Set to share their tipples among producers from Australia, New Zealand and further afield: New Zealand's Burn Cottage and CHARTERIS; Small Island, Ghost Rock and Meadowbank from Tasmania; M&J Becker from NSW and Moondarra from Victoria. The food lineup will feature cheese, salumi, terrines, patê, olives and other perfect vino accompaniments, with Tasmania's Grandvewe Cheese and Victoria's Mount Zero among the suppliers.
In 2016, a French documentarian with Senegalese heritage attended the trial of a Senegalese French PhD student who confessed to killing her 15-month-old daughter, who was fathered by a white partner, by leaving her on the beach to the mercy of the waves at Berck-sur-Mer. The filmmaker was fixated. She describes it as an "unspeakable obsession". She was haunted by questions about motherhood, too — her mum's and her own, given that she was a young mother herself as she sat in the courtroom. That story is the story of how Saint Omer came to be, and also almost exactly the tale that the piercing drama tells. In her first narrative film after docos We and La Permanence, writer/director Alice Diop focuses on a French author and literature professor with a Senegalese background who bears witness to a trial with the same details, also of a Senegalese French woman, for the same crime. Saint Omer's protagonist shares other traits with Diop as she observes, too, and watches and listens to research a book. A director riffing on their own experience isn't novel, but Saint Omer is strikingly intimate and authentic because it's the embodiment of empathy in an innately difficult situation. It shows what it means to feel for someone else, including someone who has admitted to a shocking crime, and has been made because Diop went through that far-from-straightforward process and was galvanised to keep grappling with it. What a deeply emotional movie this 2022 Venice International Film Festival Grand Jury Prize-winning feature is, understandably and unsurprisingly. What a heartbreaking and harrowing work it proves as well. Saint Omer is also an astoundingly multilayered excavation of being in a country but never being seen as truly part it, and what that does to someone's sense of self, all through Fabienne Kabou's complicated reality and Laurence Coly's (Guslagie Malanda, My Friend Victoria) fictionalised scenario. As Laurence gets her time in court, Diop takes it all in. "It would make life easier" is the defendant's early characterisation of her crime, a gut-punch of a way to describe infanticide. But before Laurence unravels the minutiae of her life prior to and after moving from Senegal to study — and her daughter Lili's brief existence and death — Rama (film debutant Kayije Kagame) is dreaming, being comforted by her French partner Adrien (Thomas de Pourquery, Perfect Nanny), teaching and finally making the trip for the trial. When she packs, she grabs a sleeping bag. When she checks into her hotel, she replaces the bed's quilt with this small piece of home. It's a revealing gesture, conveying how intensely that Rama is already connecting with Laurence and her journey through the justice system; they're strangers but, as Rama gathers specifics for her book, which will compare Laurence's plight to Medea, this is never anything less than personal. The bulk of Saint Omer is chatter, as Laurence is questioned about what happened, why, her studies, her hopes and dreams, and her relationships with her mother (Salimata Kamate, Represent) and Lili's father (Xavier Many, Notre Dame on Fire). In France's legal setup, interrogating isn't limited to attorneys — the judge (Valérie Dréville, Wonder in the Suburbs) guides the proceedings, with Laurence's lawyer (Aurélia Petit, Rosalie) and prosecuting counsel (Robert Cantarella, My Best Part) inquiring sporadically. The defendant states from the outset that she killed her baby, but doesn't consider herself responsible. She wants the trial to inform not just the court but herself as to why this tragedy occurred. She brings up sorcery, and the immediate incredulity that hangs in the air in a room with only two other Black people, her mum and Rama, is among the plethora of ways that Diop calls attention to the contrast between France as a racially diverse nation and the truth of not being white in the European country. Befitting a movie about a writer, language is one of Saint Omer's stars, courtesy of a script co-written by Diop with the film's editor Amrita David, plus Marie N'Diaye (White Material). Often reworking text from Kabou's case, Laurence's story is told in such an evocative fashion that picturing what she's saying is a given. She talks, and cinematographer Claire Mathon (Spencer, and also Céline Sciamma's Petite Maman and Portrait of a Lady on Fire) hones in on that talking — always as Laurence wears skin-tone matching shirts that visually reinforce how invisible she feels; always standing against wooden panelling with the same effect; and always expressing as much in her stance, gaze and all the things she doesn't say. Occasionally, the judge takes the frame, or lawyers, witnesses or Rama, usually centred. Diop wants viewers to focus on their words, too, and the reactions betrayed by their faces and physicality. This is filmmaking at its most meticulous and emotional, with such carefully measured scenes proving puncturing and searing. As talk flows, so does judgement within the court and beyond. Rama begins querying herself — in her dreams, alone in her hotel, and via flashbacks to her childhood, where things with her mum (first-timer Adama Diallo Tamba) are complex and tense — but the scrutiny Laurence is placed under transcends her deeds. While Saint Omer doesn't excuse her actions for a second, it keeps illustrating how life in France has treated and continues to treat her, and why Rama can spy echoes between their otherwise vastly dissimilar predicaments. During a call after part of the testimony, Rama's editor (Alain Payen, Golden Moustache) notes that Laurence speaks "very sophisticated French". There's no doubting that that wouldn't be said about someone white with the same college background; Rama replies that she just "talks like an educated woman". When the judge also can't believe the claims of witchcraft, or entertain diving into what they mean, it too is a loaded response. There are no easy moments in Saint Omer, or easy answers. There can't be. Diop looks at this delicate situation with sensitivity and probing — and, in yet another parallel with Rama, questions why she's making the film, what she's saying about the situation, the role of myth in processing the incomprehensible, and motherhood's many intricacies and challenges. Indeed, this is a movie made with uncompromising rigour as well as understanding, as expected from a documentary filmmaker turning to fiction. It's a stunning legal drama that's as brilliantly crafted as Custody, another Venice standout from France about a grim situation. And, it's home to astonishing performances by Malanda and Kagame, each haunting in their own ways. Diop will never forget Kabou, and audiences won't be able to get her film, its extraordinary story or its exceptional lead actors out of their heads, either.
Every September and October, Germany erupts with brews, food and lederhosen-wearing revellers for its annual Oktoberfest celebrations. When that time rolls around Down Under, Australia follows suit. One such festivity is Oktoberfest in the Gardens, which has been throwing big Bavarian-themed celebrations around the country for 13 years — and is returning to Melbourne for 2023. Oktoberfest in the Gardens will make its latest Victorian stop at Catani Gardens in St Kilda on Saturday, October 21. If you're keen to head along, expect company; the event expects to welcome in over 70,000 people enjoying steins, schnitties and German shindigs across this year's seven-city run. Melbourne's fest will serve up the same kind of beer- and bratwurst-fuelled shenanigans that Germany has become so famous for. So, if you have a hankering for doppelbock and dancing to polka, it's the next best thing to heading to Europe. Oktoberfest in the Gardens boasts a crucial attraction, too: as well as serving a variety of pilsners, ciders, wine and non-alcoholic beverages, it constructs huge beer halls to house the boozy merriment. When you're not raising a stein — or several — at the day-long event, you can tuck into pretzels and other traditional snacks at food stalls, or check out the hefty array of entertainment. Live music, roving performers, a silent disco, rides and a sideshow alley are all on the agenda.
Some people love Christmas. Others adore winter. Easter's excuse to eat chocolate also has its fans. But if you like all things spooky and scary — if you know your Michael Myers from your Jason Voorhees, too — then October is the happiest time of each and every year, even though it's also the creepiest. Leaning into the unsettling season in a big way: The Astor Theatre, which is dedicating the month to eerie flicks. Horror movie diehards will find unnerving classics new and old on the lineup throughout Shocktober. Some of the program's titles you will have seen countless times. You might've always meant to get around to others. Or, maybe you just haven't had the chance to enjoy a few of these flicks on the big screen — let alone the Chapel Street picture palace's screen — just yet. As packed into single sessions, doubles, triples and a few marathons, highlights include The Fly with The Omen, The Wicker Man paired with Don't Look Now, sinking the fangs into The Hunger (complete with David Bowie) and Blade, and the eerie dream duo that is The Shining and Doctor Sleep. While there isn't necessarily a showing every day of the month, there's more than enough on the bill to make up for the horror film-free days before Tuesday, October 31. Think: Friday the 13th (yes, on the right date), Night of the Living Dead, The Haunting, Possession, The Nightmare Before Christmas, the OG Candyman, The Thing with Videodrome, Mulholland Drive and The Others as well. If you like watching a whole lot of scary movies at once, this year's marathons span the Scream franchise and an all-night ode to Halloween director John Carpenter. Then, on the big date itself, capping off the lineup: a 50th-anniversary session of William Friedkin's horror masterpiece The Exorcist.
We did it Melbourne. We braved another winter, and spring is now well and truly in the air. T-shirts and shorts are back on the menu (okay maybe not every day), and we are all outside again. 'Tis the weather to be biking — and, lucky you, 'tis the season for a Lekker garage sale. From 9am–4.30pm on Saturday, September 23, the Dutch bike brand will offer huge discounts on a range of bikes — with its range including city bikes, commuter bikes and electric bikes — as well as accessories and spare parts. Some bikes will be up to half price, with prices from $600. So, if you're looking for a new set of wheels, this is the perfect opportunity to snap up a bargain. But it's not just about the bikes. There'll be plant-based food from Purple Rabbit on offer, a DJ set from ETRO and a raffle with prizes from Bodhi & Ride. Don't risk a sleep-in, though — Lekker's past sales have seen pretty hefty lines of punters keen for those bicycle bargains and you don't want to miss out.
Buzzing at the heart of Blue Beetle are two contrasting notions: fitting in and standing out. Jaime Reyes (Xolo Maridueña, Cobra Kai) wants to feel at home not just in his own slice of El Paso-esque Texan spot Palmera City, but beyond his neighbourhood. When he assists his sister Milagro (Belissa Escobedo, Hocus Pocus 2) working at the well-to-do's houses, he searches for opportunities, especially given that he's in need of a steady job to help his family save their home as gentrification swoops in. Thanks to a run-in with Kord Industries, its warmongering CEO Victoria Kord (Susan Sarandon, Maybe I Do) and an ancient artefact known as the scarab, however, the recent Gotham Law University graduate will soon be his hometown's most distinctive resident. Getting covered in blue armour, being able to fly — wings and other bug appendages come with the suit — and hearing a robotic voice (Becky G, Power Rangers) chatting in your head will do that, as will having a multinational company try to swat you down because it wants to deploy the technology RoboCop-style. So scampers the latest entry in the DC Extended Universe — a movie that grapples with the same concepts as the ever-earnest Jaime beyond its storyline. It slots into its franchise while providing something new 14 entries in, before the DCEU comes to an end with the upcoming Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom (under fresh DC leadership, a different silver-screen saga is coming, which might still link in with Blue Beetle). Directed by Ángel Manuel Soto (Charm City Kings), this is the superhero genre's first live-action flick with a Latino lead, be it from DC or Marvel. It's a family drama as much a caped-crusader affair. It's a story about immigrants striving to thrive and retain their own culture. And, it revels in an 80s sheen and sound. Blue Beetle battles enthusiastically to claim its own space, then, as almost constantly seen and felt. Alas, that doesn't stop it from getting generic as well, as much save-the-world fare is. When it soars in its own direction, Blue Beetle does indeed make an impression. When it marches dutifully in the standard superhero line, it can play like another by-the-numbers movie about great powers and great responsibilities in an ever-sprawling on-screen realm. Mostly, the former outweighs the latter — and Blue Beetle's charms go a long way. Accordingly, this initially made-for-streaming picture serves up a case of taking the struggles with the highlights, which is another of its messages. And there are highlights, particularly whenever Soto's feature feels like it's in a world away from Shazam! Fury of the Gods, The Flash (just to name 2023's other DC movies so far) and the like. That approach worked for Joker and The Batman, two DC films that aren't in the DCEU or new DC Universe, and are each scoring sequels. Jaime's journey to becoming Blue Beetle is instantly familiar: Marvel's also insect-focused Spider-Man and Ant-Man flicks have spun similar origin stories. Here, alien biotech-slash-treasure sparks his big change, as given to him for safekeeping by Victoria's niece Jenny (Bruna Marquezine, God Save the King) because she disagrees with her aunt's combat-for-profit ways. Thanks to Blue Beetle's dedicated, warmhearted embrace of cultural specificity, Jaime's family are always along for the ride, adding a Spy Kids vibe to Soto's film. His mother Rocio (Elpidia Carrillo, Guillermo del Toro's Cabinet of Curiosities), father Alberto (Damián Alcázar, Acapulco), Nana (Adriana Barraza, Penny Dreadful: City of Angels) and uncle Rudy (George Lopez, Lopez vs Lopez), an inventor with a firm individualist streak, are swiftly immersed in the chaos — and Milagro, too — as Victoria keeps valuing the scarab, suit and cash she thinks they'll inspire over any human fallout. Although Blue Beetle has an 84-year history on the page, the eponymous figure's solo live-action cinema debut is as much for newcomers as devotees. Soto's love letter to inclusion isn't only about shining a spotlight on Latinx characters and their experiences, or putting the full Reyes crew at its core — or delivering a clash between the one percent and everyone else, blending the eat-the-rich trend with caped crusaders. It's about accessibility as well; at a time where big film franchises have become so serialised that they're akin to ongoing TV shows on the big screen (and with bigger budgets), and so laden with fan service that the off-screen cheers are virtually choreographed, Blue Beetle doesn't require hours and hours of viewing homework or years and years of devotion to jump in. Again and again, it's plain to see how Soto and screenwriter Gareth Dunnet-Alcocer (Miss Bala) clearly want their feature to stand apart, even when it leans into the superhero template. Also easy to spot: how Blue Beetle would've stuck much closer to the usual mould without such warmth showered upon its characters and its committed performances. Affection goes two ways here, raining down from Soto and Dunnet-Alcocer, then beaming back up from Maridueña and his co-stars. Jaime and his relatives could've stepped into Blue Beetle from a heartfelt TV series that charts the ins and outs of their lives as a loving and hardworking migrant family in a place brimming with prejudice and corruption. They could take the opposite route now instead and it'd feel just as fitting. It's hardly surprising that Sarandon is cartoonish by their side — but, other than giving the plot a threat while personifying corporate and American evil, plus the lust for power and wealth at any cost, she's not being asked to do much else. The respect, detail and authenticity that's evident in Blue Beetle's cultural homage, family focus and casting help give Blue Beetle its gleam. It still becomes a sea of smashed-together pixels late in the piece, though, just with well-portrayed characters that the audience cares about, and also ample splashes of neon and synth like this is Tron with superheroes. What does a twentysomething who's undergone a Peter Parker/Miles Morales-esque life shift with a Venom-meets-Iron Man technology end up physically fighting? Something comparable and visually bland, even if said nemesis gets a backstory rife with suffering at Victoria's hands. Blue Beetle isn't without aesthetic flair beyond its nostalgic riffs, with one scene that's shot to resemble an immigration department raid both grabbing attention and making a statement. It also doesn't lack heart anywhere. And, it's fun with something meaningful to say, neither of which are givens in this genre. That said, finding the balance between being oneself and having another force and its influence flittering around isn't only an issue for Blue Beetle's likeable protagonist.
Beer might be the tipple of choice for many footy fans, but if you'd prefer to spend your Grand Final Eve holiday quaffing gin, you'll want to make a date with Brogan's Way. On Friday, September 23, the Richmond distillery is celebrating the public holiday with a Footy Finals Friday Warm-Up session involving bottomless G&Ts. Choose from the 1pm or 4pm sitting and head along to kick back with two hours of free-flowing house G&T varieties. You'll have the chance to try all five signature blends, including Brogan's Way's Evening Light Gin with the Capi Melbourne Tonic, the Strawberries & Cream Gin matched with Capi Dry Tonic, and the Hearts Afire Gin with Strangelove's Dirty Tonic. You'll also get a shared grazing box to pair with your drinks, packed with goodies like seared lamb croutons with crushed pea and mint, Peking duck pancakes, tomato and caper bruschetta, and mini pear and raspberry crumbles. There's a vegetarian version available, too. Tickets to the Friday Warm-Up are $69, including bottomless sips and your grazing box.
We've all spent more time inside than usual over the past few years. In the process, we've all been looking at our furniture far more often than we usually would. So, if you've been rocked by the urge to redecorate, rearrange and reorganise of late, that's hardly surprising — those well-loved cushions, that old couch or your overflowing shelves could probably do with sprucing up. If IKEA is your furniture go-to, then its mid-year clearance sale is here to help, too — offering discounts of up to 50 percent off on some items. Whether you're in need of something big like a bed, chair or desk, or you're eager to fill your walls and surfaces with frames and vases, you'll find slashed prices on a heap of products. The sale runs until Sunday, July 10 — and, for Melburnians, you have multiple options if you're eager to start buying. Head into the Richmond or Springvale stores; browse online, then opt for click-and-collect; or do all your perusing and purchasing on the company's website, before waiting for delivery. Getting in quickly is always recommended, given how popular IKEA's sales are — and the fact that all of the chain's discounted wares are available while stocks last. And if you're wondering how cheap is cheap, plates and bowls start at $1, oh-so-many plant pots and fake plants come in at under $10, there's a set of mirrors for $15, and nifty storage tables cost $20 — and that's just the beginning.
Where would we be without movies during the pandemic? Even when cinemas were closed during lockdowns, we all still sought out the joy and escapism of watching a flick — and truly appreciated how cathartic it is. Still keen to queue up a big heap of movies, and a hefty dose of couch time? Enter Movie Frenzy, the returning week-long online film rental sale. From Friday, June 24–Thursday, June 30, it's serving up a sizeable lineup of popular flicks from the past year, all from less than $3 per movie. On the lineup: the OTT stunts of Jackass Forever, the Oscar-winning poignancy of Belfast, Joaquin Phoenix turning in another fantastic performance in C'mon C'mon and The Sopranos prequel The Many Saints of Newark. Or, bustin' can make you feel good (again) via Ghostbusters: Afterlife, and you can get some more sequel action via Venom: Let There Be Carnage and Sing 2. Female-led spy thriller The 355, Jennifer Lopez-starring rom-com Marry Me, ridiculous disaster epic Moonfall, Aussie zombie flick Wyrmwood Apocalypse and Liam Neeson's latest action effort Blacklight are also available, too. So are the oversized canine antics of Clifford the Big Red Dog, Cliff Eastwood glaring his way through Cry Macho and the literary world-set The Hating Game. (While some of these flicks are more worth your attention than others, we'll let you do the choosing.) You can nab the cheap movies via your digital rental platform of choice, including Apple TV, iTunes, Fetch, Google Play, Dendy Home Cinema, the Microsoft Store, the Playstation Store, Prime Video, Telstra TV Box Office and YouTube Movies — although just what's available, and the price, will vary depending on the service. And you won't need a subscription, unless you decide to join in the fun via the Foxtel Store.
In Sundown's holiday porn-style opening scenes, a clearly wealthy British family enjoys the most indulgent kind of Acapulco getaway that anyone possibly can. Beneath the blazing blue Mexican sky, at a resort that visibly costs a pretty penny, Alice Bennett (Charlotte Gainsbourg, The Snowman), her brother Neil (Tim Roth, Bergman Island), and her teenage children Alexa (Albertine Kotting McMillan, A Very British Scandal) and Colin (Samuel Bottomley, Everybody's Talking About Jamie) swim and lounge and sip, with margaritas, massages and moneyed bliss flowing freely. For many, it'd be a dream vacation. For Alice and her kids, it's routine, but they're still enjoying themselves. The look on Neil's passive face says everything, however. It's the picture of apathy — even though, as the film soon shows, he flat-out refuses to be anywhere else. The last time that a Michel Franco-written and -directed movie reached screens, it came courtesy of the Mexican filmmaker's savage class warfare drama New Order, which didn't hold back in ripping into the vast chasm between the ridiculously rich and everyone else. Sundown is equally as brutal, but it isn't quite Franco's take on The White Lotus or Nine Perfect Strangers, either. Rather, it's primarily a slippery and sinewy character study about a man with everything as well as nothing. Much happens within the feature's brief 82-minute running time. Slowly, enough is unveiled about the Bennett family's background, and why their extravagant jaunt abroad couldn't be a more ordinary event in their lavish lives. Still, that indifferent expression adorning Neil's dial rarely falters, whether grief, violence, trauma, lust, love, wins or losses cast a shadow over or brighten up his poolside and seaside stints knocking back drinks in the sunshine. For anyone else, the first interruption that comes the Bennetts' way would change this trip forever; indeed, for Alice, Alexa and Colin, it does instantly. Thanks to one sudden phone call, Alice learns that her mother is gravely ill. Via another while the quartet is hightailing it to the airport, she discovers that the worst has occurred. Viewers can be forgiven for initially thinking that Neil is her cruelly uncaring husband in these moments — Franco doesn't spell out their relationship until later, and Neil doesn't act for a second like someone who might and then does lose his mum. Before boarding the plane home, he shows the faintest glimmer of emotion when he announces that he's forgotten his passport, though. That said, he isn't agitated about delaying his journey back, but about the possibility that his relatives mightn't jet off and leave him alone. Sundown is often a restrained film, intentionally so. It doles out the reasons behind Neil's behaviour, and even basic explanatory information, as miserly as its protagonist cracks a smile. The movie itself is eventually a tad more forthcoming than Neil, but it remains firmly steeped in Franco's usual mindset: life happens, contentedly and grimly alike, and we're all just weathering it. Neither the highs nor lows appear to bother Neil, who holes up at the first hotel his cab driver takes him to, then starts making excuses and simply ignoring Alice's worried calls and texts. He navigates an affair with the younger Berenice (Iazua Larios, Ricochet) as well, and carries on like he doesn't have a care in the world. His sister returns, frantic and angry, but even then he's nonplussed. The same proves true, too, when a gangland execution bloodies his leisurely days by the beach, and also when violence cuts far closer to home. Tranquility, bleakness, the ordinary and the extreme in-between: it all keeps coming throughout Sundown. Yes, life keeps happening, even amid the relaxed air that breezes through the movie's aforementioned introductory moments. When there's little on the Bennetts' minds except unwinding, their comfort literally comes at the hands of Acapulco's workers. In the streets, an incendiary mood bubbles well before bodies end up on the sand. The gap between the one percent and the rest of us always stays in plain sight. The fact that a getaway as luxe as this one relies upon not the kindness but the exhaustive labour of others never slinks away. Also, that Neil's family wealth springs from slaughter isn't subtle — animals, in the pork trade — but that's never been Franco's approach. Still, Sundown is a film to soak up, riding its twists and wading through its questions, including the plethora that keep springing about Neil's actions. The last time that Roth worked with Franco, in 2015's Chronic, he turned in a mesmerising performance. Here, he's magnetic and absorbing as a man adrift by choice, through entitlement and also due to the cards he's been dealt. Some shots play up that idea with the director's characteristic lack of understatement — floating in a pool, for instance — but the point would've been plain via the film's central performance alone. Roth isn't coasting, or bobbing, or doing anything aimlessly. Sundown's audience can see Neil's behaviour as comic, heartless, troubled or arrogant, or a combination of all four and more, but Roth makes the sense of detachment and entropy behind the character's every move echo from the screen. His efforts prove all the more stark against the also-wonderful Gainsbourg, in a far smaller part. Unsurprisingly, Alice is anything but dispassionate, with her brother's subterfuge, selfishness and utter lack of care for everyone he's affecting earning her increasing exasperation. For Franco, forgoing nuance means staring head-on at the tales he's telling, the people within them and the statements about humanity that are being made — and Belgian cinematographer Yves Cape, who has a number of the filmmaker's pictures to his name (plus entrancing 2019 French film Zombi Child as well), eagerly obliges. Roving your eyes over Sundown's patient frames is an exercise in careful observation, sometimes peering so closely that you can almost count Roth's pores, but usually with a sense of distance that mirrors the space that Neil cultivates around himself. Watching this ruminative feature also requires confronting existential woes — and pondering existence — both compellingly and unsettlingly so. Franco has never had any fondness for privilege, or much for human nature; with his latest penetrating film, he's as unforgiving as always, but also as committed to unpacking what it means to define your own path.
Craft & Co's seasonal gin markets have become a firm fixture on Melbourne's booze calendar. And now, those boozy events are set to score a new sibling, with the Collingwood venue kicking off its first ever Dark Spirits Festival. Running across Thursday, August 18–Sunday, August 21, it's a celebration of top-notch Aussie artisan rum, whisky and other dark drops that promises to introduce you to a heap of new favourites. It kicks off Thursday night with a five-course spirits-matched dinner ($95), starring pours like Artillery's eight-year barrel-aged rum, The Gospel's Solera rye whiskey and the Coastal Stone sherry cask whiskey by Manly Spirits Co. Diners will also get the chance to pick some brains at a meet-the-maker Q&A session, and score a goodie bag to take home. Across the next three days, you'll catch Craft & Co's inaugural dark spirits market, running as a sit-down tasting affair — a little bit like booze producer speed-dating. Pull up a seat and relax as the distillers drop by your table to show off their latest creations, pour samples and answer all your burning questions. There are six market sessions running (7pm Friday; 11am, 2pm and 5pm Saturday; and 11.30am and 2.30pm Sunday), but spots are limited, so you'll want to book quickly. Tickets range from $35–40, including all tastings and a take-home showbag. And as always, there'll be a pop-up bottle shop where you can stock up on goodies for your home bar.
Finding a moment or statement from The Princess to sum up The Princess is easy. Unlike the powerful documentary's subject in almost all aspects of her life from meeting the future King of England onwards, viewers have the luxury of choice. Working solely with archival materials, writer/director Ed Perkins (Tell Me Who I Am) doesn't lack in chances to demonstrate how distressing it was to be Diana, Princess of Wales — and the fact that his film can even exist also underscores that point. While both The Crown and Spencer have dramatised Diana's struggles with applauded results, The Princess tells the same tale as it was incessantly chronicled in the media between 1981–1997. The portrait that emanates from this collage of news footage, tabloid snaps and TV clips borders on dystopian. It's certainly disturbing. What kind tormented world gives rise to this type of treatment just because someone is famous? The one we all live in, sadly. Perkins begins The Princess with shaky visuals from late in August 1997, in Paris, when Diana and Dodi Fayed were fleeing the paparazzi on what would be the pair's last evening. The random voice behind the camera is excited at the crowds and commotion, not knowing how fatefully the night would end. That's telling, haunting and unsettling, and so is the clip that immediately follows. The filmmaker jumps back to 1981, to a then 19-year-old Diana being accosted as she steps into the street. Reporters demand answers on whether an engagement will be announced, as though extracting private details from a teenager because she's dating Prince Charles is a right. The Princess continues in the same fashion, with editors Jinx Godfrey (Chernobyl) and Daniel Lapira (The Boat) stitching together example after example of a woman forced to be a commodity and expected to be a spectacle, all to be devoured and consumed. Listing comparable moments within The Princess' riveting frames is easy; they snowball relentlessly into an avalanche. Indeed, after the film shows Charles and Diana's betrothal news and how it's received by the press and public, the media scrutiny directed Diana's way becomes the subject of a TV conversation. "I think it's going to be much easier. I think we're going to see a change in the attitude of the press. I think that now she's publicly one of the royal family, all this telephoto lens business will stop," a talking head from four decades back asserts — and it isn't merely the benefit of hindsight that makes that claim sound deeply preposterous. Later, Perkins features a soundbite from a paparazzo, which proves equally foolish, not to mention a cop-out. "All we do is take pictures. The decision to buy the pictures is taken by the picture editors of the world, and they buy the pictures so their readers can see them. So at the end of the day, the buck stops with the readers," the photographer contends. The Princess isn't here to simplistically and squarely blame the public, but it does let the material it assembles — and the fact that there's so much of it, and that nothing here is new or astonishing even for a second because it's already been seen before — speak for itself. What a story that all unfurls, and how, including pondering the line between mass fascination and being complicit. Perkins eschews contemporary interviews and any other method of providing recent context, and also makes plain what everyone watching already knows: that escaping Diana has been impossible for more than 40 years now, during her life and after her death a quarter-century ago as well, but it was always worse by several orders of magnitude for Diana herself. The expressions that flicker across her face over the years, evolving from shy and awkward to determined and anguished, don't just speak volumes but downright scream. In the audio samples overlaid on paparazzi shots and ceaseless news coverage, that's dissected, too, and rarely with kindness for the woman herself. Being sympathetic to royalty isn't a prerequisite for feeling perturbed by The Princess. Being a fan of The Crown or believing that Kristen Stewart deserved an Oscar for Spencer — which she did — isn't either. All that's required is empathy for anyone whose existence is stripped of choice, who is made to perform a certain role no matter what, who's saddled with onerous tasks that dismantle their agency and identity, and who gets torn to pieces whether they comply or rebel. That's a key reason why Diana's plight keeps resonating and always will. It's also why 'the People's Princess' label continues to echo. The latter was coined to describe her popularity and that feverish obsession, but it cannily cuts to the core of a heartbreaking truth: Diana attained a supposed fairytale but discovered that nothing in life is a dream, a realisation that couldn't be more relatable and universal. As well-established as the details are, the minutiae still spills out as The Princess progresses: the coupling primarily to provide an heir to the throne, the unsurprising distance in Diana and Charles' marriage, the persistent presence of Camilla Parker Bowles, several layers of envy, the 'Dianagate' tapes and the nation-stopping interviews all included (electricity surges during her 1995 tell-all chat with Martin Bashir, thanks to kettles boiling across Britain, are noted). Ignoring how the media kept shaping Diana's narrative would mean shutting your eyes and blocking your ears, even if the score by The Crown's Martin Phipps didn't maximise the tension. Ignoring the parallels rippling through the royal camp today, in the way that Meghan Markle has been treated by the media, is similarly out of the question. It isn't by accident that Perkins lingers on a young Prince Harry at his mother's funeral to wrap the movie up, after all. The Princess' approach isn't new, either. It's effective, though. And, as the same style proved in recent Australian docos The Final Quarter and Strong Female Lead — films that used archival footage to explore how perceptions are manufactured by the press as well — it's nothing short of damning about media practices and the audience hunger they think they're satisfying. Those two features explored how AFL star Adam Goodes was regarded in the twilight of his career, and how the fourth estate surveyed Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard while she was in the nation's top job. They dived into the self-fuelling cycle that stems from predatory coverage and the public's responses, one feeding the other and vice versa. Sound familiar? Watching both alongside The Princess would make for grim and harrowing viewing — essential viewing, too, particularly in a world that shows so few signs of changing.
Easter in Sydney doesn't just mean chocolate, hot cross buns and whatever other sweet treats the city's eateries happen to come up with at this time of year — it also means the Sydney Royal Easter Show. And, while you won't find the latter at El Camino Cantina's Tex-Mex joint in Melbourne, of course, the chain is getting into the spirit of the event nationwide with its limited-edition margarita menu, which it has dubbed 'the Royal Rita Show'. For its latest batch of creative flavours, El Camino Cantina is serving up Jelly Belly, Warhead, Chupa Chup and Kinder Surprise margs. There are Trolli Lolli and Rainbow Nerd versions, too. Basically, it's the candy and booze combination you obviously didn't know you'd someday want when you were a kid. These lolly-flavoured ritas are on offer from Tuesday, April 5–Saturday, April 30, costing $20 for a 15-oz glass, $24 for the 20-oz size and $35 for a tasting paddle of four 220-millilitre glasses. And if you'd like to pair them with tacos, you'll find a Royal Rita Show food menu on offer as well; think tacos with popcorn chicken, chorizo and potato hash, slow-cooked barbecue brisket, and prawns with bacon. In Melbourne, you'll find both the margs and tacos tempting your tastebuds at El Camino in Fitzroy.
The last time that Joaquin Phoenix appeared in cinemas, he played an overlooked and unheard man. "You don't listen, do you?" Arthur Fleck asked his social worker, and the entirety of Joker — and of Phoenix's magnetic Oscar-winning performance as the Batman foe in the 2019 film, too — provided the obvious answer. Returning to the big screen in a feature that couldn't be more different to his last, Phoenix now plays a professional listener. A radio journalist and podcaster who'd slide in seamlessly alongside Ira Glass on America's NPR, Johnny's niche is chatting with children. Travelling around the country from his New York base, C'mon C'mon's protagonist seeks thoughts about life, hopes, dreams, the future and the world in general, but never in a Kids Say the Darndest Things-type fashion. As Phoenix's sensitive, pensive gaze conveys under the tender guidance of Beginners and 20th Century Women filmmaker Mike Mills, Johnny truly and gratefully hears what his young interviewees utter. Phoenix is all gentle care, quiet understanding and rippling melancholy as Johnny. All naturalism and attentiveness as well, he's also firmly at his best, no matter what's inscribed on his Academy Award. Here, Phoenix is as phenomenal as he was in his career highlight to-date, aka the exceptional You Were Never Really Here, in a part that again has his character pushed out of his comfort zone by a child. C'mon C'mon's Johnny spends his days talking with kids, but that doesn't mean he's equipped to look after his nine-year-old nephew Jesse (Woody Norman, The War of the Worlds) in Los Angeles when his sister Viv (Gaby Hoffmann, Transparent) needs to assist her husband Paul (Scoot McNairy, A Quiet Place Part II) with his mental health. Johnny and Viv haven't spoken since their mother died a year earlier, and Johnny has previously overstepped when it comes to Paul — with the siblings' relationship so precarious that he barely knows Jesse — but volunteering to help is his immediate reflex. As captured in soft, luxe, nostalgic shades of greyscale by always-remarkable cinematographer Robbie Ryan (see also: I, Daniel Blake, American Honey, The Favourite and Marriage Story), Johnny takes to his time with Jesse as any uncle suddenly thrust into a 24/7 caregiving role that doesn't exactly come naturally would. Jesse also reacts as expected, handling the situation as any bright and curious kid whose world swiftly changes, and who finds himself with a new and different role model, is going to. But C'mon C'mon is extraordinary not because its instantly familiar narrative sees Johnny and Jesse learn life lessons from each other, and their bond grow stronger the longer they spend in each other's company — but because this tremendously moving movie repeatedly surprises with its depth, insights, and lively sparks of both adult and childhood life. It's styled to look like a memory, and appreciates how desperately parents and guardians want to create such happy recollections for kids, but C'mon C'mon feels unshakeably lived-in rather than wistful. It doesn't pine for times gone by; instead, the film recognises the moments that linger in the now. It spies how the collection of ordinary, everyday experiences that Johnny and Jesse cycle through all add up to something that's equally commonplace, universally relatable and special, too. Conveying that sentiment, but never by being sentimental, has long been one of Mills' great powers as a filmmaker. He makes pictures so alive with real emotion that they clearly belong to someone, and yet also resonate with everyone all at once. With C'mon C'mon, the writer/director draws upon his own time as a parent, after taking inspiration from his relationship with his father in Beginners, and from his connection to his mother and his own upbringing in 20th Century Women. The conversations that the rumpled Johnny and precocious Jesse exchange might be exactly the kind that adults and children always have — the earnest talks that Johnny has with his interview subjects as well, which help place the movie's musings in a broader context — but that doesn't make them any less perceptive and memorable. The key to the film is the key to its central duo's blossoming bond, to Johnny's rapport with the kids on his podcast, and to everything that Phoenix as Arthur Fleck wanted and demanded: genuinely listening. C'mon C'mon builds wonderfully detailed and intricate character studies by doing just that with Johnny and Jesse — and, albeit in less screentime, with Viv. Trips around the US play like big adventures, including when Jesse keeps wanting to explore NY and laps up a New Orleans street parade, but the contents of late-night phone calls, the newly single Johnny's diary-like recorded dispatches about his days, Viv's maternal routine and Jesse's favourite play-acting game — where he pretends he's an orphan — frequently feel just as immense. As C'mon C'mon observes and unfurls these textured slices of life, it also takes the act of listening as seriously as Johnny does. Mills has directed a gorgeous-looking film, any frame of which would make a postcard-perfect memory — its closeups are revelatory, its wide shots that place its characters in their surroundings while surveying the minutiae around them are transcendent — but his soundscape does just as much essential work. Viewers hear the hustle and bustle, the noise of the street, the silence that lingers indoors and the clattering chaos one small boy can incite. Jesse hears it, too, and soon becomes enamoured with listening through his uncle's headphones as Johnny records on-the-ground material for his podcast. The National's Bryce and Aaron Dessner also layer in a melodic and dreamy score that both sets and suits the reflective and warm-hearted mood, while the soundtrack's jumps between genres — opera, Lou Reed and Lee Scratch Perry included — are dynamic. For all of Mills' outstanding choices with C'mon C'mon, a feature filled with them, the care and love he gives his characters and ushers out of his actors is his biggest feat. Phoenix's endlessly impressive work as a man both exhausted and rewarded by pseudo-parenthood is matched by Norman, who turns in a spontaneous and instinctive performance, and by the ever-reliable Hoffman as a woman constantly striving for her own space beyond her roles as a mother, partner and sister. Indeed, watching them together, and seeing their reactions and responses while talking to each other via phone, is as crucial as hearing every word spoken. Yes, C'mon C'mon listens devotedly, but it's just as committed to simply being in these characters' presence, soaking in all that comes with it, and finding the aching and affecting truth in every second.
Some folks just know how to rock a moustache. When Kenneth Branagh (Tenet) stepped into super-sleuth Hercule Poirot's shoes in 2017's Murder on the Orient Express, he clearly considered himself to be one of them. The actor and filmmaker didn't simply play Agatha Christie's famously moustachioed Belgian detective, but also directed the movie — and he didn't miss a chance to showcase his own performance, as well as that hair adorning his top lip. You don't need to be a world-renowned investigator to deduce that Branagh was always going to repeat the same tricks with sequel Death on the Nile, or to pick that stressing the character's distinctive look and accompanying bundle of personality quirks would again take centre stage. But giving Poirot's 'stache its own black-and-white origin story to start the new movie truly is the height of indulgence. Branagh has previously covered a superhero's beginnings in the initial Thor flick, and also stepped into his own childhood in Belfast, so explaining why Poirot sports his elaborately styled mo — how it came to be, and what it means to him emotionally, too — is just another example of the director doing something he obviously loves. That early hirsute focus sets the tone for Death on the Nile, though, and not as Branagh and returning screenwriter Michael Green (Jungle Cruise) must've intended. Viewers are supposed to get a glimpse at what lies beneath Poirot's smarts and deductive savvy by literally peering beneath his brush-like under-nostril bristles, but all that emerges is routine and formulaic filler. That's the film from its hairy opening to its entire trip through Egypt. At least the moustache looks more convincing than the sets and CGI that are passed off as the pyramids, Abu Simbel and cruising the titular waterway. It's 1937, three years after the events of Murder on the Orient Express, and Poirot is holidaying in Egypt. While drinking tea with a vantage out over the country's unconvincingly computer-generated towering wonders, he chances across his old pal Bouc (Tom Bateman, Behind Her Eyes) and his mother Euphemia (Annette Bening, Hope Gap), who invite him to join their own trip — which doubles as a honeymoon for just-married heiress Linnet Ridgeway (Gal Gadot, Red Notice) and her new husband Simon Doyle (Armie Hammer, Crisis). Poirot obliges, but he's also surprised by the happy couple. Six weeks earlier, he saw them get introduced by Linnet's now-former friend and Simon's now ex-fiancée Jacqueline de Bellefort (Emma Mackey, Sex Education). That awkward history isn't easily forgotten by the central duo, either, given that Jackie has followed them with a view to winning Simon back. Boating down the Nile is initially an escape plan, whisking the newlyweds away from their obsessive stalker. But even as the group — which includes jazz singer Salome Otterbourne (Sophie Okonedo, Wild Rose), her niece and Linnet's school friend Rosalie (Letitia Wright, Black Panther), the bride's own ex-fiancé Linus Windlesham (Russell Brand, Four Kids and It), her lawyer Andrew Katchadourian (Ali Fazal, Victoria and Abdul), her assistant Louise Bourget (Rose Leslie, Game of Thrones), her godmother Marie Van Schuyler (Jennifer Saunders, Absolutely Fabulous: The Movie) and the latter's nurse Mrs Bowers (Dawn French, The Vicar of Dibley) — adjust to the change of schedule, two things were always going to happen. The pouty Jacqueline can't be thwarted that easily, of course. Also, the fact that there'll soon be a murder for Poirot to solve is right there in the movie's moniker. Something that doesn't occur: evoking much in the way of interest in any of the film's characters, their fates and — seeing that the killer lurks among them — their motivations. This absence of intrigue springs from the same problem that plagued Murder on the Orient Express, because Branagh is still too enamoured with himself as Poirot to give his co-stars anything substantial to do. Almost anyone could've played the S.S. Karnak's passengers, aka a Christie-standard motley crew, as that's how little a splash this cast makes. Gadot does declare that the steamboat has "enough champagne to fill the Nile" like she's in a camp farce, which definitely stands out, but mostly Death on the Nile is an exercise in squandering talent. Bening is woefully underused, and Saunders and French's on-screen reunion is a wasted comic opportunity. It speaks volumes that an on-autopilot Hammer, aka the one star Branagh might now wish faded into the background, is so prominent. It also helps remind viewers that the flick is stale in multiple ways: shot in 2019, it was originally slated to release that December. Production delays, COVID-19 and just general release-schedule tinkering mean that Death on the Nile now arrives after Belfast, which Branagh made during the pandemic — and the films' close proximity to each other doesn't help this whodunnit. The man behind the two movies has always liked on-screen excess, even if he's not in the centre of the frame, but here all of his visual bombast plays like meaningless gloss. The swooping camerawork doesn't quite sell the extravagant setting as much as it exposes Branagh's style-first approach, and demonstrates a lack of care about whether he's drawing the audience into the story. Cameras circle, the score soars and the feature is fashioned like an epic, but like the cruise's victims, there's no sign of a pulse. The inconsistent pacing, dragging through the setup and then speeding through Poirot's crucial sleuthing like it couldn't be over fast enough, also lands a fatal blow. It doesn't help that the film's also-lacking predecessor already felt like it was stretching its setup, and jumping on a trend that'd seen plenty of other brilliant masterminds reach screens lately (at the time, Sherlock Holmes adaptations were everywhere, or so it seemed). Now, Death on the Nile sails into a world where Knives Out did the eccentric detective bit far smarter and better, that delightful hit is similarly getting a sequel this year, and the likes of Only Murders in the Building and The Afterparty have been unfurling immensely entertaining murder-mystery antics in streaming queues, too. Mostly, though, Branagh's second Poirot outing suffers from being so infatuated with what Murder on the Orient Express did to box-office success — and what the filmmaker himself did as its star — that it's largely happy to merely repeat the feat. There's more moustache here, and an evident effort to spin the plot's threads around love's tangled webs, but neither was ever going to keep this bogged-down slog afloat.
With her song and record titles — her lyrics as well — Courtney Barnett has long found the words to express how many people feel. It's a knack, talent and gift, and it's helped her rocket to Australian fame and global success within a decade of releasing her debut EP in 2012. As thoughtful and captivating documentary Anonymous Club shows, it's also something she's frequently asked about in interviews. But expressing those lines and the emotions behind them with a guitar and microphone as weapons, plus a riotous melody as armour, is different to sharing them quietly one on one. Directed by her long-time collaborator Danny Cohen, who has helmed a number of her music videos, Anonymous Club begins with this reality. Barnett can pour her heart, soul and observations about life's chaos into the tunes that've made her a household name, achieving something that few others can; when she's on the spot, however, she's as uncertain and awkward as the rest of us. Barnett's way with words and wordplay in her work, and her lack thereof elsewhere, thrums through Anonymous Club like a catchy riff. The subject doesn't fade, burrowing into the film as an earworm of a song inside a listener's head does, and feature first-timer Cohen doesn't want it to. His movie was shot over three years, starting in 2018, which places it between Barnett's second studio album and her third — and knowing that makes the phrases from their titles, and from her debut record also, echo with resonance throughout the doco. Anonymous Club could've been called Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit, like its subject's first album in 2015. Tell Me How You Really Feel from 2018 would've worked as well. And, yes, Things Take Time, Take Time would've been apt, too, concluding a line of thinking that the film invites anyway — ultimately finding its moniker in a Barnett track from 2014, before all those releases. Across two tours spanning Europe, the US and Asia, plus stints in Melbourne, Anonymous Club watches Barnett sit and think, and sometimes just sit. It tasks the singer/songwriter with telling how she really feels, and shows her realising the truth that things take time. All of the above is captured on glorious 16-millimetre film and, even within a mere 83 minutes, the backstage documentary is overwhelming comprised of these ruminative, reflective moments — of snatches of Barnett's life caught as she hops between rooms that aren't her own, be it stages or green rooms or hotels or homes she's housesitting. Her thoughts and feelings come via brief chatter in front of the lens (or, more accurately, with the unseen Cohen behind it, shooting with a camera customised to record synchronised sound), and from overlaid snippets of the audio diary he asked her to keep. That's a job she tussles with — more words, more on-the-spot candour rather than deliberated-over lyrics, more struggles — but she still stuck at it for the project's duration. Frank, earnest and honest, so much of what's uttered is as revelatory as everything that Barnett has sung over the years. She confides in the fly-on-the-wall film via her Dictaphone recordings; as a result, a highly poised, posed, image-conscious portrait, this isn't. "I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about anymore. I just feel like I'm going around in circles and digging myself a deeper hole," she says at one point, and many other statements have the same tone. Jumping from America to Japan to Germany and elsewhere, life on the road gets to her. Back in Australia, life without a fixed space to call her own after spending so long touring has a similar impact. "My heart is empty, my head is empty, the page is empty," she offers, another telling statement. "It feels like I'm being part of this scripted performance of what we think we're supposed to see on stage, and it just feels really pointless," she also advises. There's raw feeling behind these words, and Cohen wouldn't have it any other way; Barnett uses her work to wittily and astutely contemplate everyday life, and he does the same with her rockstar existence in his doco. Of course, one of its insights, blatant as it proves, is how anti-rockstar the indie musician's day-to-day reality is. She gets excited about gold in her Berlin lodgings, her unassuming vibe has crowds mesmerised during her shows, and she needs prompting about lyrics when one fan asks her to sign his t-shirt with her own — but much of her days, as seen here, are a quiet, busy shuffle from place to place with swathes of downtime and alone time. Cohen and editor Ben Hall (another veteran of Barnett's videos) convey this in the movie's structure, too. The big-ticket parts of the tours — the gigs, travelling, and interviews with Jimmy Fallon and Ellen DeGeneres — whiz by, while the gap around them lingers. Anonymous Club is a music documentary, but it isn't a concert movie. It knows where Barnett's career is at, the path she took to get there and how she's regarded, but it isn't a career overview or talking head-filled tribute. It features gig footage, but largely spliced into montages instead of as whole songs played on-stage. It thoroughly avoids other chattering figures — be it fellow musicians offering their praise, experts and commentators, or friends and family — in favour of its intimate, personal, in-the-room, inner monologue-driven approach. It's a road movie, but it's about the experience of being on tour over the tour itself or the places visited. Anonymous Club is about spending time and hanging out with Barnett, and about what it's like to be Barnett; melancholy, anxiousness, claustrophobia, doubt, fears, malaise and imposter syndrome come with the territory, relatably so. Cohen isn't advising viewers that stars are people too, though. Again, this isn't that kind of message-pushing, persona-redefining doco. He makes it plain that this one figure is a person first and a famous musician second — and chronicles the process of constantly juggling and balancing the two, and the impact upon her mental health. His chosen aesthetic suits the job perfectly, playing like warm, soft, unprocessed memories, and also relishing blue shades in both pensive and hopeful moments. As its revealing journey is wrapping up, Barnett finds herself more in the second category, and has the words to explain it. "My albums won't be with me on my deathbed holding my hand," she notes. "This film will not be with us as we lie dying — but I'd like to think in the bigger scheme of things, it will live on and help other people, or inspire other people, or create some sort of conversation."
This state of ours boasts some top-notch wining and dining — and this weekend, a taste of it is set to descend on an inner-city patch of parkland for one big day of gustatory goodness. The East Malvern Food & Wine Festival returns for its fifth outing, taking over Central Park on Sunday, March 27. Nab yourself a $20 entry ticket and head along to sample top local drops from producers including Innocent Bystander, Heathcote Winery and Wren Estate, before levelling up your knowledge at an expert masterclass by wine educator Nicole Gow. You can mosey through the dedicated craft beer and cider zone, tasting sips from the likes of Deeds Brewing, Sip and Eddies Cider, stocking up on your favourites as you go. And once you've worked up an appetite, hit up the abundant food offering courtesy of vendors like 48h Pizza & Gnocchi Bar, The Smoke Pit, Pressed Waffle Bar and Nepal Dining. Market stalls will be slinging an array of artisan goodies; including quality cheese and food products you can assemble for a lazy picnic in front of the live music stage. Elsewhere, swing by the prosecco and oyster stall for a luxe food pairing; taste some artisan spirits from labels like Brix Distillers and That Spirited Lot; and grab yourself one of Luvlee Gourmet's handmade ice creams.
Turning your phone off during a movie is cinema etiquette 101. Not kicking the seat in front of you, or talking during the film, or taking in food with aromas so pungent they stink out the whole theatre — they're all on the list as well. Usually, so is wearing clothes; however, the returning Fantastic Film Festival Australia is making attire optional for one of its 2022 sessions. One of Australia's film fests dedicated to weird and wonderful cinema — a tranche of flicks so glorious that several events celebrate them — FFFA is back for another year, screening at Lido Cinemas in Hawthorn from Thursday, April 21–Friday, May 6. It has just unveiled its full 2022 lineup, too, and its naked screening certainly deserves attention. The fest debuted the concept last year, and it's bringing it back this year. Even better: you'll be getting your kit off to mark the 25th anniversary of The Full Monty. Stripping off while seeing a classic movie about men stripping isn't the only highlight of this year's program, of course — and yes, if you want to see Robert Carlyle and company while remaining dressed, you can leave your hat on (and the rest of your clothing as well). The attire-optional session sits alongside other standouts such as opening night's viking epic The Northman, starring Alexander Skarsgård and Nicole Kidman, and directed by The Witch and The Lighthouse's Robert Eggers; closing night's New York Ninja, which was shot in 1984, only finished in 2021 and follows a vigilante tale; and a 4K restoration of the inimitable 1981 great Possession starring a young Sam Neill and always-wonderful Isabelle Adjani (The World Is Yours). In total, 22 features and eight shorts and special events sit on this lineup of strange, surreal, out-there and purposely offbeat flicks. We're All Going to the World's Fair arrives from Sundance, combining psychological horror with a coming-of-age story — and a storyline about an online roleplaying game — while French film After Blue is a sci-fi western fantasy about a mother and daughter tracking a killer in toxic forests. There's also indie animation Absolute Denial, which has been compared to Frankenstein but in a digital world; Agnes, which explores a case of demonic possession in a convent; Japan's Dreams on Fire, featuring acclaimed dancer Bambi Naka in her first lead role; Norwegian nightmare The Innocents, as directed by The Worst Person in the World co-writer Eskil Vogt; and The Timekeepers of Eternity, which is adapted from Stephen King novella The Langoliers. On the events bill, FFFA is hosting Music Video Blind Date, to connect Melbourne musos with filmmakers in the hopes of making music video magic — and, thanks to an evening called Cinema 1 Nightclub, it's getting DJ Female Wizard to spin tunes inside a theatre while artist Baben Shin provides the visuals.
Restaurant group Three Blue Ducks is hosting a fundraising dinner to aid communities impacted by flooding in Queensland and Northern New South Wales, with the support of some of Australia's finest chefs. On Wednesday, April 27 at their Melbourne location in URBNSURF, Three Blue Ducks will host a ten-course, canape-style dinner with all profits going to support Northern Rivers' Flood Relief Fund and Queensland's Food Bank. Creating the culinary experience are Three Blue Ducks chefs and owners Andy Allen, Mark LaBrooy and Darren Robertson alongside 12 prestigious guest chefs from across Australia, including Queensland's Louis Tikaram and MasterChef Australia judge Jock Zonfrillo. Home Grown Drinks and Stomping Ground will keep the drinks flowing throughout the night. During the event, attendees can enjoy musical performances by Ed Fisher and Harvey Miller, followed by DJ Mell Hall. The star of the evening, however, is the raffle. Boasting $15,000 worth of prizes, guests can purchase tickets to win donated items from Ripcurl, URBNSURF, YETI, Patagonia and Daiwa. A variety of prizes will also be available for auction, including a tennis lesson with Australian Paralympian Dylan Alcott, and two tickets to the Essendon AFL President's Club. The event will run from 6:30pm–11pm at URBNSURF, and tickets can be purchased now for $250 per person.
Before the pandemic hit, throwback tours were doing big Aussie business — nationwide shows that brought a heap of 90s and 00s musicians our way, let them belt out their biggest hits and doused everyone in as much nostalgia as possible, that is. And while life isn't quite back to normal yet, nature is healing in one key way, with Made in the 90s about to unleash an old-school lineup that'll get you chasing dreams. Responsible for one of the most iconic songs of the 90s, Coolio headlines this retro party, which hits Melbourne on Saturday, April 2. Head along to Festival Hall, prepare to feel like you've jumped back three decades and put that those memorised 'Gangsta's Paradise' lyrics to great use (because yes, if you were alive in the 90s, you know the words). Also on the bill are All-4-One ('I Swear', 'I Can Love You Like That'), Next ('Too Close', 'Wifey') and Renee Neufville, aka one half of Zhané ('Hey Mr. DJ', 'Groove Thang'). Been spendin' most of your life waiting for this? Of course you have.
To watch films written and directed by Ryûsuke Hamaguchi is to watch people playing a part — in multiple ways. That's one of the key truths to features not only by the Japanese filmmaker, but by anyone helming a movie that relies upon actors. It's so obvious that it doesn't usually need mentioning, in fact. Nonetheless, the notion is as essential to Hamaguchi's pictures as cameras to capture the drama. He bakes the idea into his films via as many methods as he can, pondering what it means to step into all the posts that life demands: friend, lover, spouse, ex, sibling, child, employee, student, classmate and the like. Hamaguchi loves contemplating the overt act of performance, too — his Best International Feature Oscar-winning Drive My Car, which also nabbed its helmer a Best Director nomination at this year's Academy Awards, hones in on a play and the rehearsals for it in dilligent detail — but the auteur who's also behind Happy Hour and Asako I and II has long been aware that the art of portrayal isn't just limited to thespians. Shakespeare said it centuries back, of course. To be precise, he had As You Like It's Jaques utter it: "all the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players". Hamaguchi's Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy, his second film to reach cinemas in mere months, definitely isn't a French-set comedy; however, it lives and breathes the Bard's famous words anyway. Here, three tales about romance, desire and fate get a spin. This trio of stories all muse on chance, choice, identity, regret and inescapable echoes as well, and focus on complex women reacting to the vagaries of life and everyday relationships. They're about sliding into roles in daily existence, and making choices regarding how to behave, which way to present yourself and who you decide to be depending upon the company you're in. While Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy mightn't ultimately mimic Drive My Car's Oscars success, it's equally masterful. In the first segment — dubbed 'Magic (or Something Less Assuring)' — model Meiko (Kotone Furukawa, 21st Century Girl) discovers that her best friend Tsugumi (Hyunri, Wife of a Spy) has just started seeing her ex-boyfriend Kazuaki (Ayumu Nakajima, Saturday Fiction). She's told in a sprawling taxi chat, which makes for stellar early sequence, and then she grapples with her complicated feelings while musing on what could eventuate from there. Meiko also heads straight to her former paramour, which was never going to simplify the situation. Her mantle to bear: either remaining the picture of a supportive pal by failing to tell Tsugumi about her past with Kazuaki, or laying out their history and forever shifting the dynamic. It's a devastating tale in how intricately it understands the push and pull of bonds that splay in different directions, and how we hold ourselves in various ways depending on who we're with. Next, in 'Door Wide Open', college student Nao (Katsuki Mori, Sea Opening) is enlisted to seduce Professor Sagawa (Kiyohiko Shibukawa, Tezuka's Barbara) as part of a revenge plan by her lover Sasaki (Shouma Kai, Signal 100). She's forced into the part — which blatantly requires her to play a part — by the entitled Sasaki, all because the professor won't give him a passing grade. Nao is married, adding further shades to the roles she's inhabiting at any given time. She's also wholly uncomfortable with the position that her boyfriend has placed her in, but it still leads to authentic connections and revelations. Another of Hamaguchi's strong and frequently repeated truths: that the pretences we all sport, for whatever reasons we adopt them in any particular circumstances, are often barriers to genuine emotions and attachments. Finally, in a world where the internet has been eradicated due to a virus — making third chapter 'Once Again' a piece of science fiction, too, and as quietly fantastical as the feature gets — Natsuko (Fusako Urabe, Voices in the Wind) and Nana (Aoba Kawai, Marriage with a Large Age Gap) cross paths. The former has returned home to attend her high-school reunion, bumping into the latter within moments of getting off the train, with the two women instantly thinking that they were classmates decades ago. Thanks to the preceding portions of the film and also Hamaguchi's filmography in general, it's instantly clear that this scenario won't be straightforward, either. Nana invites Natsuko back to her house, the two chat and reminisce, but neither is all that confident about their shared history in a segment that tenderly but candidly examines role-playing as a two-way street, and also deception as a social grace. Hamaguchi's resume is littered with other obsessions beyond the fictions people spin to get through their days — to themselves and to each other, and willingly and unthinkingly alike — many of which also pop up in Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy. Coincidence has a role in each of the movie's trio of intelligently and painstakingly plotted narratives, and destiny and fortune as well (as the name makes plain). The tangled web that romance weaves, and the sticky strands that represent alluring exes, also leave a firm imprint. So does seduction, and not always in its usual and most apparent form. All three of the picture's sections could stand alone, but each could've been fleshed out to feature length as well; as they exist, they leave viewers wanting more time with their lead characters. Commonalities ebb and flow between them, though, because this is a smart, astute and savvily layered triptych that's brought to the screen with everything that makes Hamaguchi's work so empathetic, warmly intimate and also entrancing. On the list: a canny knack for domestic drama that spies the revelatory in the seemingly ordinary and mundane; a willingness to let dialogue guide each story, yet never by resorting to only speaking in exposition dumps or lazily telling over showing; and, to help with that crucial last component, piercing and haunting long shots by cinematographer (Yukiko Iioka, Listen to Light) in every chapter. Indeed, each portion of Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy almost resembles a full-length film as it is courtesy of these trademark traits, which make the entire movie seem deeply lived-in. It should come as no surprise, then, that Hamaguchi's cast fares just as brilliantly. With the filmmaker's patent fascination with performance on full display, the restrained yet meticulously textured portrayals he exacts from his cast are uniformly excellent. They're more than that; in a beguiling piece about playing parts, and that makes the process of adopting a role its very reason for flickering, peering at its actors feels like peering at reality at its most soulful, insightful and also playful.
What flickers in a robot's circuitry in its idle moments has fascinated the world for decades, famously so in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, Blade Runner and Blade Runner 2049 — and in After Yang, one machine appears to long for everything humans do. The titular Yang (Justin H Min, The Umbrella Academy) was bought to give Kyra (Jodie Turner-Smith, Queen & Slim) and Jake's (Colin Farrell, The Batman) adopted Chinese daughter Mika (Malea Emma Tjandrawidjaja, iCarly) a technosapien brother, babysitter, companion and purveyor of "fun facts" about her heritage. He dotes amid his duties, perennially calm and loving, and clearly an essential part of the family. What concerns his wiring beyond his assigned tasks doesn't interest anyone, though, until he stops operating. Mika is distressed, and Kyra and Jake merely inconvenienced initially, but the latter pledges to figure out how to fix Yang — which is where his desires factor in. Yang is unresponsive and unable to play his usual part as the household's robotic fourth member. If Jake can't get him up and running quickly, he'll also experience the "cultural techno" version of dying, his humanoid skin even decomposing. That puts a deadline on a solution, which isn't straightforward, particularly given that Yang was bought from a now-shuttered reseller secondhand, rather than from the manufacturer anew, is one roadblock. Tinkering with the android's black box is also illegal, although Jake is convinced to anyway by a repairman (Ritchie Coster, The Flight Attendant). He acquiesces not only because it's what Mika desperately wants, but because he's told that Yang might possess spyware — aka recordings of the family — that'd otherwise become corporate property. Before all that, there's a stunning dance — a synchronised contest where families around the globe bust out smooth moves in front of their televisions, competing to emerge victorious. The dazzling scene comes during After Yang's opening credits and is a marvel to watch, with writer/director/editor Kogonada (TV series Pachinko) conveying a wealth of meaning visually, thematically, philosophically and emotionally in minutes. To look at, the sequence brings to mind Ex Machina's, aka the Oscar Isaac-led scene that launched a thousand gifs. In what it says about After Yang's vision of an unspecified but not-too-distant future, it's reminiscent of Black Mirror, with engrained surveillance technology eerily tracking participants' every move. It's here, too, amid the joy of the family progressing further than they ever have before, that the fact that Yang is malfunctioning becomes apparent, turning a techno dream in more ways than one into a potential source of heartbreak. When a feature so easily recalls other films and television shows, and so emphatically, it isn't typically a positive sign. That isn't the case with After Yang. Adapting Alexander Weinstein's short story Saying Goodbye to Yang, Kogonada crafts a movie that resembles a dream for the overwhelming bulk of its running time — it's softly shot like one, and tightly to focus on interiors rather than backgrounds — and that makes it feel like a happily slumbering brain filtering through and reinterpreting its wide array of influences. Another picture that leaves an imprint: Kogonada's own Columbus, his 2017 wonder that also featured Haley Lu Richardson (The Edge of Seventeen), who pops up here as a friend of Yang's that Jake, Kyra and Mika know nothing about. It isn't the shared casting that lingers, but the look and mood and texture, plus the idea that what we see, what we choose to revel in aesthetically and what makes us tick mentally are intertwined; yes, even for androids. After Yang is transfixing, giving its audience plenty of opportunities to put those notions in motion themselves, all just by watching and being swept up in its gorgeously ruminative frames. It's a sci-fi film to revel in — it's cerebral, existential, meditative, hypnotic and soulful, as well as haunting and almost tangibly sensual — and, in the process, to slide onto its poignant wavelength about what truly defines life. After Yang is also tender and curious about intelligence wrought from flesh and from ones and zeros alike, digging into consciousness, memory, and both the impact of and loss of each. From all of that, it ponders the question that's as old as humanity and may even outlive us: what it genuinely means to be human, especially as AI develops, androids and other smart machinery get more immersed in our lives, and robots become inescapably intertwined with our emotional landscape (and perhaps boast their own). Her and A.I. Artificial Intelligence have also traversed somewhat similar terrain in their own ways, but After Yang remains its own film — its own take on all that it contemplates, everything it brings up but doesn't dare to try to simplify with clearcut answers, and the journey it makes through layers of recollections upon recollections. As Jake accesses Yang's memories, it reminds him of his own and reinforces a key fact: that memory is one of life's connective threads, linking our loved ones to us even when they're gone or we are. Kogonada conjures this up while evoking a captivating sense of space and framing via his interior-heavy locations, such as Jake, Kyra and Mika's home. Not since Parasite has a house been as pivotal not only as a setting, but to the atmosphere and substance of a movie. Glass and windows feature prominently, lensed lovingly but meticulously by cinematographer Benjamin Loeb (Pieces of a Woman, Mandy), and putting everyday moments in boxes to treasure. After Yang is a film to feel, to flow with, to sink into, to soak up. It codes that sensation in via Kogonada's sensitive editing, actually, which seems to intuitively mirror the leaping and lurching way the human brain thinks, and through a shifting use of aspect ratios. It's a picture that makes you want to touch it and step into it — and it's home to a masterclass of a quietly powerful portrayal by Farrell, the feature's standout among a well-deployed cast. Operating in the same subtle mode that made him astonishing in The Lobster and The Killing of a Sacred Deer, he's a piece of connective tissue, too, bonding Jake's stresses and delights with viewers' (because everything his character experiences emotionally is unshakeably relatable, even sans androids like Yang). Only an exceptional movie can equally think and feel so vastly, and pose unresolvable queries while also offering such a soothing embrace. It's something that Yang might've pined for, and that we all may have without ever realising it; to see here, it's magic.
