Ascot Vale's permanent food truck park has played host to festivals dedicated to everything from espresso martinis to potato cakes and halal snack packs. Now, it's dedicating Saturday, May 18, to a legendary Aussie pub meal: the chicken parmigiana. Whether you're team parma or parmy (or, god forbid, parmi), you'll agree this dish has long deserved its own day of celebration. The chicken, breaded and fried to golden perfection, is topped with plenty of cheese and sauce (and maybe ham) and served with a decent handful of chips — it's a recipe that really can't be improved too much. If you agree, head along to the Ascot Lot this weekend and dig into the pub menu icon created by the likes of The Pickle & the Patty, Parma Bites, Jake's Kitchen, Just Like Nonna and more. If you're vegan, vego or GF, fear not — there'll be options for you here, too. Jugs of The Lot lager and cider will also be going for just $10 with every parma purchase, and there'll be five different espresso martinis available for a tenner. As always, the food truck park is dog-friendly, so bring along your four-legged pals, too. Image: Giulia Morlando.
When the Nazis seized Germany during the 1930s, the party cemented its presence in many ways, however two stand out in Never Look Away. Firstly, Hitler's underlings began ruthlessly eradicating anyone deemed undesirable. Secondly, the growing facist regime deployed propaganda to condemn so-called degeneracy, including via art showcases about socially unacceptable pieces. Witness to both was a boy, Kurt Barnert (Cai Cohrs). He attended an exhibition with his beloved aunt Elisabeth (Saskia Rosendahl), was encouraged by her to explore his own creative streak and think for himself, and then watched on as she was taken away due to her mental health. Kurt is a stand-in for real-life artist Gerhard Richter, in a cinematic dance between fiction and history. But Never Look Away's message is clear: that some of Germany's greatest art masterworks are a product of living through the country's worst days, grappling with them and committing that conflict to canvas. If only Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck's film took this idea to its core, instead of merely depicting it. If only it too was a work of great conflict and texture, rather than a curiously straightforward fictionalised biopic. The filmmaker's return to Germany after winning an Oscar for 2006's The Lives of Others, then heading to Hollywood for dismal Angelina Jolie and Johnny Depp vehicle The Tourist, Never Look Away is a handsome, engrossing picture. It tells a compelling tale with impressive performances to match, never drags across its lengthy 189-minute running time, and earned Academy Award nominations for Best Foreign-Language Film and Best Cinematography for its efforts. That said, it's also as standard a version of the story as there is — and if our collective traumas have taught the world anything, it's that complexity remains even in the most clear-cut cases of good versus evil. As a young man forever shaped by childhood experiences both rewarding and tragic, Kurt (now played by Tom Schilling) emerges in post-World War II Germany as an aspiring artist. First, he paints signs. Then, he attends an East German art school, where he is taught to practise his chosen field with a communist mindset, and to specifically apply his skills to social-realist murals. Rallying against such strict confines, Kurt searches for creative freedom and challenges, which he finds in West Germany's Düsseldorf Art Academy under the tutelage of Joseph Beuys-surrogate Antonius Van Verten (Oliver Masucci). But he can't escape the past, not even in the arms of fellow student Elisabeth 'Ellie' Seeband (Paula Beer), whose gynaecology professor father Carl (Sebastian Koch) was responsible for sending Kurt's aunt to her death. Writer-director von Donnersmarck may have based his script on conversations with Richter, copious research and facts about the artist's father-in-law, and yet there's a prevailing feeling that colours Never Look Away's warm-hued frames. While its real-life details prove anything but, this is a neat movie. There are many ways to convey and explore the truth, with the German filmmaker choosing to easily join the dots. That his picture devotes so much time to showing how Kurt endeavours to interrogate the past, how that influences his work, and the thoughtful ways in which he brings his anguish and agony to his canvases, only shines a brighter light on Never Look Away's narrative and thematic tidiness. As Richter's pieces have screamed for decades across everything from photo-realistic images to abstract designs, there's little that's orderly about the way he's been sifting through his life via his art. Indeed, many of the film's best moments, focusing on Kurt in his art school studio as he struggles with making the paintings he's driven to create, show exactly how this is the case. As a result, Never Look Away does actually prove conflicted, albeit not in the way that a movie about an artist who sees the Nazis' horrors then falls in love with the daughter of an ex-SS officer should be. Rather, the film is conflicted about retaining its links to Richter and smoothing out his story for easy dramatic effect. It's also conflicted about sitting half-way between fact and fiction, not only filtering one man's tale through a simplified lens, but reflecting history through that same perspective as well. And viewers should feel conflicted watching it, too. Many of the picture's components are stellar, with the excellent Schilling, Rosendahl and Beer all turning in moving, nuanced performances, and cinematographer Caleb Deschanel giving the film a simultaneously classical yet probing look as well. Alas, as involving and visually striking as Never Look Away is, there's no mistaking that this is the glossy, not thorny, version of an inherently tricky slice of life. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUrYfrTEYOU
UPDATE, August 3, 2020: Downhill is available to stream via Google Play, YouTube and iTunes. "Once you overcome the one-inch-tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films." They're the wise words of cinema's current king, aka multi-Oscar-winning Parasite filmmaker Bong Joon-ho, who made the above comment to a room full of Hollywood heavyweights at this year's Golden Globes. It's just a statement of fact — and while you could say that the folks behind Downhill have taken his advice, they've really just followed a frustrating trend. Remaking Swedish movie Force Majeure, they've read the subtitles, then decided that the world desperately needs an English-language version of Ruben Ostlund's (The Square) exceptional 2014 Cannes award-winner. This isn't the first time a great movie in a language other than English has received the remake treatment. And, as the likes of 12 Monkeys, Insomnia, The Departed, Let Me In and Gloria Bell have demonstrated, such a path doesn't always end badly. But Downhill is such a broad and simplistic adaptation of a savage and stunningly complex film that it only seems to be motivated by three factors. The first: money, cashing in on Force Majeure's modest success. The second: teaming up Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Will Ferrell. The third: taking a great concept and dumbing it down for the widest possible audience. Who needs a sharp, smart exploration of festering marital troubles and engrained gender roles — in Swedish, no less — when you can plonk a fighting, holidaying couple in a cross-cultural comedy? That appears to be writer/directors Nat Faxon and Jim Rash's (The Way, Way Back) favoured approach. The setup: on vacation in the Alps, the Stauntons have skiing and bonding firmly on their minds. Then, over what should be an uneventful lunch, a controlled avalanche completely changes their getaway's vibe. Snow rolls towards the chalet where Pete (Ferrell), Billie (Louis-Dreyfus) and their kids (Julian Grey and Ammon Jacob Ford) are discussing their soup options, and it doesn't seem to be stopping. Billie throws her arms around her sons, but Pete grabs his phone, jumps up and bolts. When the incident is over — leaving everyone shaken, frosty but unharmed — Pete's family can't quite look at him the same way, especially when he claims loudly and angrily that he didn't abandon his nearest and dearest in the face of a possible disaster. As the movie's title makes plain, things do go downhill. It was a risky move, giving this film that particular name, because the whole feature proves a definite slide from the original, too. Instead of subtlety and even ambiguity — and instead of cleverly and amusingly pondering humanity's inherent fight-or-flight response, today's multifaceted readings of masculinity and the passive aggression that lingers in all relationships — Downhill keeps everything as overt and obvious as possible. Cue ample bickering, absolutely no room for intricacy or doubt, and scene after scene devoid of either tension or laughs. When younger couple Zach (Zach Woods) and Rosie (Zoe Chao) arrive, for example — as secretly invited by Pete — they're supposed to reflect the audience's discomfort at watching a marriage potentially implode. Instead, the scene just plays like a bad sitcom outtake. As actors, Faxon (Ben and Kate, Married, Friends from College) and Rash (Community's Dean Pelton) have experience in the genre; however there's nothing funny about Downhill's stilted feel. In another altercation, when Billie and Pete report their experience to the resort's security team, a scene that's supposed to ripple with awkwardness and unease just seems pointless. Actually, it does have a purpose: giving a brief snippet of screen time to Game of Thrones favourite Kristofer Hivju, who actually had a sizeable role in Force Majeure and is clearly the only actor Downhill deems worthy of returning. The less said about Miranda Otto's stereotype-baiting, forcefully accented performance as an over-sexed hotel manager, the better. It's the type of character that should've disappeared from screens decades ago, although it does typify much about Downhill. At every turn, this remake strips out its source material's depth and richness in favour of the easiest, most cartoonish option — and for viewers who haven't seen Force Majeure, another superficial and formulaic flick about an unhappy marriage and Americans marvelling at cultural differences overseas is hardly high on anyone's must-watch list. You wouldn't guess that Succession and Peep Show creator Jesse Armstrong helped pen the script, or that Louis-Dreyfus is one of Downhill's producers. In the latter's defence, she does rank among the film's highlights. While Billie is tasked with navigating scenarios that manage to be both derivative and over-the-top — losing her cool before a helicopter ride and getting steamy with a hot Italian ski instructor — there's always weight to Louis-Dreyfus' performance. The same can't be said of Ferrell, who seems to be stuck in Daddy's Home mode, but Faxon and Rash have lucked upon the perfect distraction technique. By virtue of the movie's snowy, picturesque setting, whenever anything falls flat, they just relish the scenery. In a film that's constantly on a downward trajectory, that happens often. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AY5SrKf_2ic
If you've been making plans to revamp your style, but haven't been able to rustle up the coin or are sick of online shopping, here's your chance. Hugo Boss is hosting a mega sale at its outlet stores. You'll be able to score a further 30 percent off menswear, womenswear, footwear and accessories. Whether you're after a suit for a special occasion later in the year or looking to level-up your WFH wardrobe stat, Hugo Boss's mid-season outlet sale will have you sorted for a fraction of the fashion label's usual prices. You'll have to get in quick to score though, with the sale running from Wednesday, May 27 until Sunday, June 28 (or until stocks last). In Melbourne, you can head to the BOSS Outlet in Preston and DFO Essendon to get these quality threads for such a steal. Current opening hours at all BOSS outlets are 11am–4pm. Hugo Boss mid-season outlet sale will run from Wednesday, May 27 till Sunday, June 28, or until stocks last (excludes new season stock). To find your closest outlet, visit the website.
Long before social distancing was on anyone's radar — especially when heading out to see a movie — drive-in theatres were ahead of the game. When you're watching a film in your car with only your friends and family in the same vehicle, you're instantly keeping away from other patrons. Accordingly, it's hardly surprising that the concept is attracting plenty of interest during the COVID-19 pandemic. Enter the Drive-In Movie Club, a pop-up that's setting up its big screen at a secret Melbourne location for four nights. From Thursday, July 23–Sunday, July 26, it'll play beloved retro films while attendees get cosy in their cars with their nearest and dearest. Showing one movie per night, it all kicks off with Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy. Then, the laughs keep going with Mean Girls — and, although it isn't screening on a Wednesday, you can obviously still wear pink. For Saturday night dates, Dirty Dancing will hit the screen. Finally, finishing off the short season is Back to the Future (so if you happen to have a DeLorean handy, prepare to exclaim "great Scott!" a whole heap). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvsgGtivCgs Tickets cost $35 per car, which covers up to five people. You can also spend an extra $20 per person and have snacks — a drink, popcorn and candy — brought to your vehicle. Top image: Thomas Hawk via Flickr.
The constant flow of COVID-19 news was interrupted, temporarily, earlier this month when a former Prime Minister's memoir launched. Well, was leaked. According to the book's publisher Hardie Grant, a pirated version of Malcolm Turnbull's A Bigger Picture was allegedly shared multiple times from an address "within the PMO [Prime Minister's Office]". And that's not the only reason the book made headlines. As well as calling out Kevin Rudd's potty mouth, Turnbull spills the tea on his relationship with now Prime Minister Scott Morrison and even calls him a "Machiavellian plotter". If this is the kind of inside gossip that get's you excited on a Monday, you'll be happy to know you can hear even more from the man himself at a one-off Sydney Writers' Festival event. At 7pm AEST on Monday, April 27, Turnbull will be chatting to writer and presenter Annabel Crabb about his memoir, his ex-colleagues and the 2018 leadership spill. The talk will be live streamed via the Sydney Writers' Festival YouTube channel, website and Facebook page. While the literary festival has been cancelled inline with the government's restrictions on public gatherings, it's hosting a series of online events and podcasts that'll reimagine its 2020 program. You can check out more of them over at Sydney Writers' Festival website. [caption id="attachment_660576" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Sydney Writers' Festival by Prudence Upton[/caption] Top image: Flickr/Chairman of the Joint Chief of Staff
Getting into the bottomless brunch game, Munich Brauhaus is embracing all-you-can-eat mid-morning meals in the appropriate fashion: German-style. That means pretzels, schnitzel, sauerkraut and apple strudel — and as much as you can handle for two hours — at the Bavarian-themed beer hall's new Das Brunch. Also on the menu at the monthly event: meat and cheese platters, plenty of bread with a traditional cheese spread called obazda, roast pork belly with onion and sage stuffing, hash browns, sausages, bacon, plus Munich-style slaw and potato salad from the salad bar. Leave room for käsespätzle, which is a creamy mac 'n' cheese-style dish that's rightfully considered a favourite back in its homeland. Dessert-wise, gingerbread men, black forest cake and blueberry cheesecake are also on offer, with the unlimited food spread costing $65 per person. Or, because brunch and booze go hand in hand, pair it with sparkling, rosé, house beer, wine and spirits for $99. Das Brunch runs monthly, kicking off from 11am on Sunday, March 22. Each smorgasbord will also be themed, with the first one taking inspiration from autumn — complete with flower crowns and floral displays.
There's no doubt about it, it's cold. Sydney's winter weather has settled in — we've seen frosty mornings, snow on the mountains and rain aplenty. Luckily, Japanese casual apparel retailer UNIQLO has got some super snug clothing to keep you warm throughout the chilly season. What's more, it's giving away 10,000 free Heattech products to make sure you're cosy to the core. Essentially thermals, the Heattech innerwear comes in three levels of warmth — warm, extra warm and ultra warm — in the form of singlets, long-sleeve shirts, turtle necks, leggings, long johns and tights. So, whatever this winter holds in store, UNIQLO will help you stay nice and toasty. To nab yours, you'll need to complete an online version of 'hot and cold'. Available to play from 10am Wednesday, July 15 to 11.59pm Sunday, July 19, the virtual game will see you navigating three levels (aptly named warm, extra warm and ultra warm) looking for 'invisible' Heattech tops. If you find the tops and complete all three levels, you'll be sent a code to redeem a free men's or women's Heattech product — you can choose from any of those listed above, up to the value of $19.90 — at any Uniqlo store in Australia.
Melbourne's lockdown is slowly easing, but travelling out of town isn't a reality just yet. It's spring, so we know the urge to soak in Victoria's wonders is bubbling — which is where the Yarra Valley Spring Garden Party comes in. Across Saturday, October 3–Sunday, October 4, this free virtual event will whisk you away to this scenic patch of the state — all while you're still in your own home. It'll also do you a huge favour in another way because, by now, you're probably sick of trying to work out what you're going to do during yet another weekend spent within your own four walls. First, kick off your Saturday with a yoga class streamed from Alowyn Gardens. Also on offer that day: a walk through Healesville Sanctuary with Elder Murrindindi, a succulent-focused garden workshop, a wander around Seville Estate with winemaker Dylan McMahon and landscape designer Phillip Johnson, and moseying through the blossoms at CherryHill Orchard. Still keen on making sourdough? There's a class for that. And, come 5pm, there's also a spring cocktail session with Four Pillars. Then, on Sunday, you'll start out with a coffee-making class with Silva Coffee. Next, get your blood pumping as Adam Horgan bikes the Aquaduct Trail and streams the results via GoPro. You'll then take a peek at a few secret — and beloved — gardens in the Dandenong Ranges, learn all about pasta and discover how to improve your wine-tasting skills. Plus, thanks to both the Tesselaar Tulip Festival and the Yarra Valley Opera Festival, you'll get treated to a heap of songs among the tulips. Watching along is free, but you can also bring a bit of the Yarra Valley to your door, too, via a garden party six-pack. It'll cost you $165 and includes six bottles of wine, recipe cards, sweet pea seeds and, in January, your own tulip bulbs to plant. The Yarra Valley Spring Garden Party takes place virtually from Saturday, October 3–Sunday, October 4.
Every September and October, Germany erupts with brews, food and lederhosen-wearing revellers for its annual Oktoberfest celebrations. Come Saturday, October 19, Melbourne Showgrounds will serve up the same kind of beer and bratwurst-fuelled shenanigans. If you're a Melburnian with a hankering for doppelbock, schnitzel and dancing to polka, it's the next best thing to heading to Europe. This year's Oktoberfest in the Gardens will add an extra attraction, too — as well as serving a variety of pilsners, ciders, wine and non-alcoholic beverages, it'll construct the a huge beer hall to house the boozy merriment. Just how big it'll be hasn't been revealed, but given that the festival usually attracts quite a crowd, expect it to be sizeable. When you're not raising a stein — or several — at the day-long event, you can tuck into pretzels and other traditional snacks at up to 30 food stalls, or check out the hefty array of entertainment. Live music, roving performers, markets and wood-chopping are all on the agenda, as is a silent disco, dodgeball, rides and a sideshow alley. Early bird tickets go on sale at 7am on Thursday, August 1 for $54.90, with full-price entry costing $69.90.
If anyone knows how to celebrate World Tequila Day in style, it's the agave experts at Melbourne Mexican joints Mamasita and Hotel Jesus, and Sydney's legendary tequila bars Tio's Cerveceria and Cantina OK. And indeed, the four are joining forces to mark the occasion with a Tequila MiniFest this Sunday, July 21. The three-hour tasting session takes over Hotel Jesus's Smith Street restaurant from 2pm, showcasing over 30 different tequila creations, most of which aren't usually available on Aussie shores. You'll have the chance to chat with some of the country's top tequila suppliers, too. And, of course, the Hotel Jesus kitchen will be whipping up a menu of tacos and other Mexican snacks especially for the occasion. Entry to the event is $10 and includes two tacos. Tequila MiniFest runs from 2–5pm.
The tequila is always flowing at El Camino Cantina, with the new Mexican joint already well-known for its margaritas. But, as anyone who loves the agave spirit knows, there's never a bad reason to keep pouring more — and International Tequila Day couldn't be a more perfect excuse. Happening on Wednesday, July 24, the celebratory date will see everyone's favourite tequila cocktail flying off the bar. When $7.50 margaritas are on the menu, that's bound to happen. Choose from the slushie or liquid form depending on your preference, and from five flavours: mango, strawberry, tropical (with Red Bull), apple and cinnamon and the regular ol' variety. Because the occasion falls on a Wednesday, you'll also be able to tuck into ten-cent wings. Even better — this is an all-day affair, so if you have time for a few drinks over lunch, or can get away from work for a chilled afternoon, then you won't go thirsty.
In Stuber, Uber driver Stu (Kumail Nanjiani) is obsessed with his all-important rating. He's hardly living the dream — selling sporting goods by day and ferrying around fellow Los Angelenos in your spare time is no one's fantasy — but if his score drops below four, he'll lose his side hustle. Here's hoping that the folks telling his tale don't share the same fixation with numbers, or a similar need to meet a certain ranking. As much as this tired ride of a movie can't stop mentioning stars (in conversation, on Stu's license plate, in his pleas to his customers and in the feedback he pores over after each trip), it doesn't earn many itself. Even worse — the few flesh-and-blood stars that Stuber does have, it thoroughly wastes. There's obvious odd-couple appeal in teaming up Nanjiani with Dave Bautista, especially with the former in awkward nice-guy mode and the latter playing it gruff and gritty. And yet, even when they're leaning into their clear-cut character traits to an exaggerated extreme, the duo remain on autopilot. If director Michael Dowse (Goon) merely asked his actors to channel their respective vibes in The Big Sick and Guardians of the Galaxy, just in a less-convincing manner, that's what he's received. Unsurprisingly, pairing a watered-down version of Nanjiani and Bautista's best-known roles with a grating attempt to revive 80s and 90s action-comedies proves as pedestrian as it sounds. Bautista's determined detective Vic hops into Stu's Uber on an already-eventful day. Hours after undergoing laser eye surgery, the hardened cop receives a tip about the elusive drug dealer (Iko Uwais) who killed his partner (Karen Gillan) six months earlier. Vic can't see, let alone drive, which is where Stu comes in. Vic also hasn't used a ride-sharing app before, so as he tracks his lead from a warehouse to a male strip club, and then zigzags from an animal hospital to his daughter's (Natalie Morales) art show, he keeps the protesting Stu behind the wheel. Every time that the reluctant sidekick tries to flee, with his best friend and secret crush (Betty Gilpin) continually calling in a drunk and vulnerable state, Vic plays his trump card: the threat of giving Stu a bad rating. Although it might initially appear otherwise, this isn't a comic reimagining of Michael Mann's Collateral, swapping a hitman and a cabbie for a police officer and an Uber driver. And, while the scenario is rife with potential commentary about the plague of insecurity that has become normalised in today's gig economy, screenwriter Tripper Clancy doesn't take that path either. The fact that an ordinary guy is basically held hostage not just by a gun-toting symbol of law and order, but by the need to retain a near-exploitative second job that relies heavily upon keeping privileged customers happy, should serve up a potent, insightful and searing statement about modern-day life. But in Stuber, it's just an excuse for an onslaught of outdated Lethal Weapon and Rush Hour-style antics, plenty of routine violence, and an escalating body count. To be fair, Dowse and Clancy don't just play up the buddy-cop angle, although Bautista always seems seconds away from declaring that he's too old for this shit. Taking the clown car approach — aka trying to stuff in as many possible sources of humour as it can, even if they don't fit — Stuber also attempts to wring laughs out of physical comedy, and find affectionate chuckles in Stu and Vic's mismatched interpretations of masculinity. Alas, watching someone stumble around with a visual impairment, even a temporary one, isn't funny. Nor is seeing paper-thin archetypes realise that being a man requires the right balance of sensitivity and courage, particularly when the supposedly heartwarming situation is completely one-note. That the movie's best joke stems from a throwaway line about plural nouns, and its second best from calling Vic "Douche Lundgren", says a lot. Add Dowse's visuals to Stuber's pile of misguided choices, with the film careening and chaotic in both its look and feel. The only time that it boasts any real spark is when the under-utilised Uwais (The Raid) unleashes his martial arts skills. That said, the picture's dull, commercial-style appearance does underscore its blatant core as a virtual Uber ad. Showing just how outlandishly messy a drive with the ride-sharing service could be isn't likely to entice new car-owners or customers, but that's not the point. Instead, Stuber mentions the company's name more times than a jingle, explains how it operates and even references its other various services. It's product placement packaged as a movie, and only the first part of that equation — the wrong part — works. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMCUWR5ODkY
In these music-mad movie times, the following scene has become a familiar big-screen sight. Loitering backstage, the camera spies a talented, charismatic star. It catches a quick glimpse of its chosen figure in an unguarded moment, then charts their footsteps as they burst out the door, into a cavernous room, auditorium or arena. They're greeted by an adoring, screaming, near-ecstatic crowd — and when the person in the spotlight is doing what they do best, they're simply magic, with everything else seeming unimportant. This has proven true whether the real-life Amy Winehouse or Whitney Houston have been behind the microphone in recent documentaries, or whether Rami Malek is strutting his stuff as Freddie Mercury in Bohemian Rhapsody. In Mystify: Michael Hutchence's opening minutes, we see the same thing from the eponymous Aussie rocker and INXS frontman. Before he was dead at 37, Hutchence knew how to flash a cheeky smile when no one else was looking. With thousands of people staring back at him, he knew how to keep an audience hanging off of his every word. Alas, even when he was dripping raw charm in the middle of a gig, he knew how to hide a world of sorrow behind his grin as well. After Mystify's recognisable introduction, there's much in this passionate and intimate documentary that also feels familiar. Movies comprised of never-before-seen behind-the-scenes footage about troubled famous faces often unravel in a similar fashion, and accounts of music superstars who've died before their times tend to take a comparable path, too. If the increasing prevalence of such films, mirroring the increasing body count, isn't reason enough for society to rethink our celebrity worship and eager celebration of a sex 'n' drugs 'n' rock 'n' roll lifestyle, then nothing ever will be. Of course, that's a much bigger concern. In these tragic true tales, the home video, media interview and live performance clips obviously vary. While the broad strokes remain the same, the intricate minutiae also remains unique. Falling somewhere between sincere tribute and warts-and-all snapshot, these gone-but-not-forgotten portraits tend to ape their subjects, which Mystify does to an impressive degree. It's tender, thoughtful, energetic and electrifying, even when it's breaking your heart. Indeed, just like Hutchence himself, Richard Lowenstein's film about the singer's rise and fall has its own distinctive spark. More than two decades after his death, which was ruled a suicide by hanging, the rockstar is alive again in the movie. Naturally, it helps that the Australian filmmaker knew Hutchence personally. Not only did Lowenstein direct more than 15 of INXS' music videos throughout the 80s and 90s, but he gave the vocalist his first acting role in Dogs In Space. It also helps that Hutchence's nearest and dearest lend their frank, unfettered recollections to the doco — all unfurling as emotional snippets of voiceover laid over the archival visuals, rather than through talking heads. Although they're never seen on screen, except in old footage, the interviewee list spans siblings, family members, childhood pals, INXS bandmates, lifelong friends, staff, celebs such as Bono, and girlfriends including Kylie Minogue and Helena Christensen. What truly shapes Mystify, however, is that so much of the movie involves peering intently at its main man, and seeing what he did and didn't want everyone to see. First he's a shy yet lively kid growing up in a difficult household. Then he's a teenager drawn into the band because that's what his mates were doing. Later he's one of the biggest rock gods on the planet. Finally, he's someone understandably struggling with the trappings of fame — and coping however he can, frequently with the help of illicit substances. His eyes genuinely are the window to his soul, and to the documentary's. That's the case when Hutchence is gleaming excitedly while surveying a mass of people at the 1983 US Festival in California, and exclaiming "fucking hell" with a distinctive Australian drawl. It still applies when he's in speedos with Kylie on a boat in the middle of Hong Kong harbour, or beaming excitedly while sitting next to her on a cross-continental European train trip. And it's the same when he's looking far too sorrowful in his later years in Britain, as the tabloid scrutiny over his relationship with Paula Yates, and its role in breaking up her marriage to Bob Geldolf, reaches fever pitch. The revelations come and go, sometimes emanating from the screen in Hutchence's silent gaze, sometimes echoing in shared tidbits from Mystify's long list of candid discussions. The expected soundtrack weaves in and out as well, with the film equally pulsating with many of INXS' huge tunes — 'Never Tear Us Apart', 'What You Need' and 'Bitter Tears' among them — and taking time to dwell on the man Hutchence was beyond the music. If performing on-stage is a dance, and if navigating stardom is one too, then the metaphorical jig continues in Lowenstein's documentary. With finessed editing, plus an evocative sense of pace and tone, this is a fluid and insightful piece of cinema that finds the most effective, involving and moving way to relay its well-known story. Hutchence's plight will never be overlooked in Australia, where his songs will always remain beloved hits (and will always be pumping on a classic rock radio station somewhere). What Mystify ensures is that not only will his highs and lows always be remembered, but also his innate, unshakable allure when he was just being himself. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRIFR3hkIpo
Melbourne's street art scene is about to be outdone. Over three days this April, the township of Benalla in northeast Victoria will be hosting one of Australia's largest street art festivals. The annual Wall to Wall Festival, now in its fifth year, will bring together a lineup of local and international artists to create 70 new murals around the town. You'll be able to watch the famed artists at work, including Greek muralist Insane51, who's known for his 3D artworks — that look impressive with and without 3D glasses. Other highlights include a carwash takeover by local artist Callum Preston — who's work often involves recreating old-school Aussie milk bars — and a large-scale grain silo mural in the nearby town of Goorambat, by Melbourne's Dvate. Along with the live painting, there'll be an exciting program featuring workshops, guided street art tours, virtual reality painting, a cinema and after-dark projections. You'll also be able to unleash your inner Banksy by participating in the Paint by Numbers community mural, which entails the creation of a permanent, large-scale town mural with the help of one of the festival's artists.
Easter is just around the corner, which means chocolate, chocolate and then more chocolate. But if you're in the vicinity of Westfield Doncaster on Wednesday, April 17, it means free chocolate first. Ferrero Rocher has unleashed its new Easter chocolate into the world, and it's celebrating in everyone's favourite way: with giveaways, obviously. Head along between 9am–5.30pm and look for the three-metre-tall golden hazelnut tree — which won't be hard to spot. As well as nabbing a free taste of the new choccie, you'll also be able to swing on the golden swing. Why? Why not, we guess. As for the sweet treat itself, it's called the Golden Squirrel — hence the huge, shiny tree — and it's squirrel-shaped, and made from Ferrero Rocher's blend of milk chocolate and hazelnut. Yes, if you're allergic to nuts, this means this freebie isn't for you. If you're not, scamper along and get munching.
After sold out seasons in Brisbane and Sydney, it's clear this theatre production ticks plenty of boxes. A new comedy from a talented local writer? Check. A timely skewering of race and gender? Check again. Written by Michelle Law, Single Asian Female steps into the world of three women from one Chinese family living on the Sunshine Coast. Pearl has runs a restaurant, eldest daughter Zoe is forced to think about the battle between her personal and professional desires, and her younger sister Mei is navigating school. Each contemplates the intersection between their heritage and their western lives, as well as its impact on their identity. Indeed, their troubles and journey are made all the more powerful due to their status as Chinese women in Australia, and the struggles that it brings — as brought to life with humour and insight by Law, director Claire Christian and the talented cast. The play debuted in Brisbane in 2017, and is the first play from Law, who co-wrote Sh*t Asian Mothers Say with her brother Benjamin, and is proving one of Australia's rising stars. Image: Dylan Evans.
Welcome to Thornbury will accommodate both your stomach and your flaming sinuses at the day-long event that is the Hot Sauce and Chilli Festival. If spice is your mate and you think you can handle some of the hottest chilli situations Melbourne can throw at you, now's your time to prove your mettle. Some you'll even have to sign a waiver to taste, so you know they'll be life-affirming. There'll be sauce offerings from stalls such as Melbourne Hot Sauce, Hells Breath and Blair's Death Sauce. If you've come for the actual food side of things, you're in luck, too — Mr Burger, The Brunswick Mess Hall and Satay Truck will set up shop, among others. And drinks? Well, the bar team will be serving 'hot pocket' shots. That's what you'll need a waiver for (and maybe some milk, too). Head along from 12–10pm on Saturday, April 27.
From train rides to mystery adventures, Melbourne can't get enough of wizarding-themed events. So the return of the Wizard's Brunch is sure to be enthusiastically received — especially as it's set to be held just before the spookiest of days. This pre-Halloween feast is set to turn The Craft & Co's Dandenong farm into something reminiscent of Hogwarts' Great Hall with floating pumpkins, fortune tellers and other festivities. Fingers crossed for butterbeer, pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes and maybe even a treacle tart. And hopefully no trolls in the dungeon. There will be two sessions: a family-friendly brunch and an adults-only dinner. You'll need a few galleons to get in, though — around $140 for the brunch and $170 for the dinner. And it's another $50 if you want to take three hours of booze onto that. Updated: October 19, 2019.
Among the English language's best phrases, 'all you can eat' ranks up there with the best of them. It'd sound great in any language, of course, and you might hear it in German over the weekend of Saturday, March 30 and Sunday, March 31 — aka 'so viel du essen kannst'. Specifically, you might hear either version at Munich Brauhaus and The Bavarian, which are all offering an appropriate stuff-your-face deal. For a two-hour sitting, you can tuck into as many schnitzels as you can stomach. Served on a platter, there are three varieties on offer: the uber schnitzel, which is decked out with rocket, semi-dried tomato and parmesan; the jager schnitzel, topped with wild mushroom ragu; and the good ol' parmigiana, which obviously comes with melted mozzarella, tomato sauce and ham. Talk about good schnit. The special costs $35 per person, also includes unlimited mashed potato and potato salad — yep, both hot and cold spuds — and is available for bookings of at least two people. You do need to book, however, so gather the gang, get planning, and make a date with the Munich Brauhaus in South Wharf or the Bavarians in Maribyrnong and Wantirna South.
UPDATE: APRIL 8, 2019 — St Andrews Hotel's Game of Thrones trivia night has been cancelled. The ticket booking agency has said those who have bought tickets should contact Kill Your Darlings directly at info@killyourdarlings.com.au. So, you're the eager kind of bastard (not the Snow type, mind you) who likes to throw spoilers in the face of your lessers? Lucky for you, the Game of Thrones edition of Kill Your Darlings trivia is here, so you'll be able to use that smug mouth to win. Or die. Lovers of the books and returning TV series (April 15 – permanent maker it in your calendar) should make a date with Fitzroy's St Andrews Hotel, with a GoT trivia night happening on Thursday, April 11. Costume is not mandatory, but that's part of the fun. White walkers, maesters, red priests, naked extras and dung-faced peasants will also most likely be in abundance, so if you really want to impress you'll need to think outside the boxset (someone had better turn up as the animated map of the opening credits, is what we're saying here). Food and drink will be available for purchase, and host of prizes are on offer. If you're keener than a Stark heading back to Winterfell, team registration via the KYD website is necessary. And don't delay — it's winter soon.
In the wake of this month's tragic Christchurch terror attacks, a bunch of culinary legends are coming together to do some good with great food. Ben Shewry — New Zealand native and acclaimed chef of renowned fine diner Attica — is putting together a massive bake sale with the help of a few famed chef mates. Taking over Ripponlea's Attica this Saturday, March 30, Baking for Christchurch will transform a haul of delicious baked goods into some much-needed dollars. 100 percent of the event's proceeds will head straight to Victim Support New Zealand's Givealittle fund, to support those affected by the events of March 15. If you can't make it down to the sale, you can donate directly to the fund here. Running from 9am till midday, this is set to be one supercharged bake sale, with specially crafted treats from culinary masters like Lune Croissanterie's Kate and Cam Reid, Daniel Wilson of Huxtaburger, Ides' Peter Gunn, Shannon Martinez of Smith & Daughters and Phil Wood from Pt Leo Estate. Each cook will donate their time, along with 250 pieces of whatever creation they're whipping up for the occasion. The full lineup of dishes it yet to be confirmed, though you can expect a cracking Andrew McConnell cheesecake, chicken breakfast sandwiches from Morgan McGlone (Belles Hot Chicken) and Attica's own legendary Vegemite scrolls. To match, there'll be coffee courtesy of Market Lane, as well as stronger brews donated by Kiwi beer stars Garage Project. It's cash only and everything is expected to sell out pretty quickly — so head in earlier rather than later.
Sydney-based luxury lifestyle and homewares label In Bed is on the move — temporarily. For two days across Saturday, May 4 and Sunday, May 5, it's coming to Melbourne and setting up residence at Northcote's Studio Local, with a concept store styled by interior stylist Stephanie Stamatis. Expect two eye-catching things: a dream apartment come to life, complete with a bedroom, dining area and plenty of plants, artworks and objects; and a range of items to buy. Given that In Bed is particularly known for its linen and cotton bedding, bath towels, kitchen textiles and homewares, your own dream home (or just the one you're in now) will thank you. Brands and collaborators such as Walk In The Park, Wingnut & Co, Henry Wilson, Tara Burke & Sans [ceuticals] will be on display, and if you head by first thing on either day, then complimentary Market Lane coffee awaits — as do All Are Welcome croissants. Order something while you're there, and it'll also be shipped to you for free, as will a copy of the label's journal. In Bed's Melbourne Residency is open from 10am–4pm on Saturday, May 4 and Sunday, May 5.
If there's a force as frightful as facing certain death, humanity is yet to find it. Knowing that everyone who lives will die is the most terrifying thing that anyone will ever have to deal with, as well as the most obvious and commonplace — and it's also the fear-inducing bogeyman that continues to spook the horror genre. In the form of killer ghosts, malingering spirits and demonic forces from the great beyond, the inescapable end also haunts the Conjuring universe, to the surprise of absolutely no one. The growing franchise's other source of scares, however, is perhaps much less expected. In The Conjuring, the flick that started the series, a family grapples with the spectre of an accused witch. In its sequel, as well as in spin-off The Nun, evil takes the form of a bride of Christ. In the Annabelle films, a doll is possessed by a dead girl, turning murderous. And now in The Curse of the Weeping Woman, the saga finds its shocks in a mother who turns into a child-drowning apparition. This unsettling franchise might be based on the work of paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren, and on Mexican folklore in the current movie's case, but as each new instalment shows, it's not only scared by supernatural stories of death. Womanhood and its symbols are also something to fear here. Women and children are usually the casualties, too. As genuine spooks increasingly give way to haunting by the numbers, the series' need to vilify and victimise its way to box office success is blatant, lazy and more concerning than anything on-screen. The Curse of the Weeping Woman begins with its own origin story, introducing viewers to the tale of La Llorona. In Mexico in 1673, a beautiful young woman (Marisol Ramirez) lives a happy life with her husband and two sons, until she's driven to kill her boys in the river — and destined to keep trying the same trick with other children for all of eternity. Three centuries later, Los Angeles social worker Anna Tate-Garcia (Linda Cardellini) crosses paths with the deadly spirit as part of a case, when she finds that something is amiss with one of her clients (Patricia Velásquez). Soon, La Llorona has her sights set on Anna's kids (Roman Christou and Jaynee-Lynne Kinchen), and only a renegade former priest (Raymond Cruz) can help the fearful family. Directed by first-timer Michael Chaves, The Curse of the Weeping Woman polishes up its formulaic parts more effectively than it might initially seem, especially six films into a flagging franchise. There's nothing new in its bumps and jumps, but many of those creepy moments elicit the right visceral response — while no one will be leaping out of their chairs, viewers might find themselves inching forward automatically. Alas, horror movies aren't just about shocks, scares and keeping a series going in a dutifully unnerving manner. They're not just about swooping camerawork and stalking through a spooky house either, although those are two techniques that the picture also uses well. Conjuring up a momentary reaction lasts for just that, a moment. Retaining audience interest between bouts of ghostly mayhem is much more difficult, particularly given that screenwriters Mikki Daughtry and Tobias Iaconis are as eager to stick to cliches as they were in their last script: teen illness weepie Five Feet Apart, which is also currently in cinemas. Many a routine scarefest has found success by taking the same route, which is why such boilerplate films keep appearing. Many an average movie has squandered a great actor — here, the committed Cardellini — within generic horror material. But plonk all of the above in a fast-expanding series that keeps pulling the same stunt, and it wears thin. Specifically package it with another supposedly terrifying tale about an unhinged symbol of womanhood wreaking havoc, and it grates louder than the creakiest of doors and floorboards. What's scariest in The Curse of the Weeping Woman isn't the fact that it lays bare the Conjuring Universe's reliance upon frightening symbols of femininity, but that it makes it plain in such an unashamed way. It might make sense to turn the bringers of life into harbingers of death, preying upon existential worries in the process, but at this point in the franchise it's also wearyingly, disappointingly easy. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCOp9jCG07I
Inspire packed halls to erupt with laughter, travel around picturesque locales while eating meals with Steve Coogan, and imitate everyone from Tom Jones to Michael Caine. Yes, there's much that Rob Brydon can do. He can also hold his own on every British panel show ever made, play a traffic warden in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and make his voice sound like it's echoing from a box. But not even this multi-talented Welsh comedian can keep Swimming with Men afloat. Brydon's latest big-screen outing wants to bob along the surface of the offbeat sports comedy pool. It wants to paddle around casually, making viewers happy without making too big a splash. Alas, this by-the-numbers comedy sinks quickly, as you might expect given its premise: The Full Monty, just with synchronised swimming. The mix of curiosity, amusement and puzzlement that synchronised swimming sometimes sparks ("really, this is actually a sport?") is Eric Scott's (Brydon) starting position. To be fair, he's similarly bewildered by much of his routine life. The closer that his local councillor wife Heather (Jane Horrocks) seems to get to her colleague Lewis (Nathaniel Parker), the more blustered Eric becomes, and the more his son Billy (Spike White) revels in the uncomfortable situation. Gin doesn't cure his despair, however a dip in the local pool just might. In the beginning, Eric only notices the amateur synchronised swimming squad because they have the wrong number of members, and naturally he's an accountant. And yet it's not all that long until he's joining their ranks. The difference between formulaic comedy done well and formulaic comedy done badly is often a matter of mood and energy. With Swimming with Men reaching cinema screens at the same time as the also straightforward Fighting with My Family, that couldn't be more evident. The pair have their commonalities and their contrasts. Both are based on documentaries — 2010's Men Who Swim, about an all-male Swedish team, in this case — and both tell standard underdog tales. Each focuses on a vastly dissimilar sport, and has its own target market in mind. But the flat, dull feeling that Swimming with Men evokes is all a matter of tone and spirit; specifically, it doesn't have much of either. Instead, the film presents a forced feel-good vibe, a strong desire to swim in Calendar Girls and Brassed Off's slipstream, and very little to make it stand out. Skimming along the surface of its male malaise theme, it also boasts a rote group of hardly fit and heavily discontent blokes surrounding Brydon: Rupert Graves plays the slick one, Adeel Akhtar is the cynic, Jim Carter is sensitive, Daniel Mays is both hot-headed and stressed, and Thomas Turgoose is the token troubled youth. No one is at their best, and while treading water is an essential part of donning speedos and doing eggbeater kicks, the cast does so both literally and figuratively. Screenwriter Aschlin Ditta doesn't give anyone much choice, saddling them with easy, lazy humour and zero trace of character development. Also wading half-heartedly is director Oliver Parker. Trading the teen-centric St. Trinian's flicks for the silliness of Johnny English Reborn, and then for the middle-aged antics of Dad's Army and Swimming with Men, he's happy to take the dullest, most obvious route through the movie. It's the filmmaking equivalent of slowly paddling laps rather than busting out any acrobatic moves — and while you can swim freestyle leisurely with a smile, it's always going to remain the same old stroke. When the film reaches its big climax, a synchronised swimming contest, it almost seems like Parker realises how little excitement he has put on the screen. Rather than relishing the performance, appreciating this odd bunch of unlikely men banding together and doing their best, or eagerly celebrating their achievement, he keeps jumping to shots of the watching crowd. They might be enthused, but after such a bland affair, it's difficult to share their sentiments. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pzvyIZdXTY
If your fitness regime is in need of a little post-summer pick-me-up, then this free wellness day might just hit the spot. On Sunday, March 31, the Bayside suburb of Port Melbourne is hosting a health-packed community open day, as some of its most-loved gyms, spa retreats and health food stores open their doors — for free. A program of free activities and sessions will give guests a taste of some of the suburb's best wellness offerings. You can try your hand at a boxing, spin classes, beach yoga or pilates — all held on a beachside stage next to Port Melbourne Yacht Club — indulge in a free massage courtesy of Symmetry, sit in on one of the expert-led health workshops and sample stacks of great local fare. Recovery might include a free Melbourne Chiro neck adjustment, a podiatry assessment from the folks at Up & Running or an LED light therapy facial. Some of the area's top gyms and wellness operators will have extra goodies in store for visitors on the day, too, from specials on personal training to offers on skin and body treatments. The whole thing is free and if you register you'll be in with a chance to win some fab prizes.
Your tastebuds are hankering for a soft drink, you also feel like something boozy, and no, a vodka and lemonade just won't cut it. The new solution to this relatable dilemma: El Camino Cantina's Not So Soft Drink Series. You mightn't have even contemplated sipping creaming soda or frozen cola-flavoured margaritas before, but that's what this new short-term menu is all about. Also on offer at the lively Tex-Mex chain's Fitzroy venue: Pasito-flavoured margaritas, plus a Mountain Dew version as well. You'll be able to knock them back between Tuesday, June 1–Sunday, August 1 — in 15-ounce and 25-ounce glasses topped with a Grand Marnier float, in tasting paddles that'll let you sample all four varieties, and out of two-litre towers if you're gathering the gang. If you're a fan of its margs, you'll probably have noticed that El Camino mixes up its menu regularly with specials like these — which gives you more excuses to try more flavours.
Robot Song blends music, animatronics and digital art performance, all while focusing on writer/director Jolyon James' experience as a parent of a neurodiverse child. James' performance explores how love and learning can overcome isolation and barriers between communication, how we navigate and celebrate our love for those who are different, and the unique and wonderful joys this experience of the world can bring. Family-friendly and a tight 65-minutes in length, Robot Song performances run in Chapel Off Chapel from Monday, July 26–Thursday, July 29, including a relaxed performance for neurodiverse audience members on the final date. Top image: Leon Schoots.
A century or so ago, back when cinema was still in its infancy and synchronised sound hadn't yet revolutionised the movie-going experience, seeing a film also meant listening to a live show. Those days are long gone, of course. Next time you head to your local theatre, someone won't be playing the movie's music in front of you while you watch. But a heap of recent screenings have been harking back to those times — and the next one has an action-adventure classic in its sights. Melburnians, it's time to grab your fedora and get cracking towards the Plenary at the Melbourne Convention and Exhibition Centre, because that's where you'll be celebrating Raiders of the Lost Ark's 40th anniversary rom 8pm on Saturday, August 14. The movie will screen, obviously, and The Metropolitan Orchestra will play John Williams' rousing score. Even if you haven't seen the film before — or watched it for years — everyone knows its famous theme tune. For those in need of a refresher, plot-wise, Raiders of the Lost Ark kickstarted the Indiana Jones franchise by following its eponymous figure (as played by Harrison Ford) on his quest to find the Ark of the Covenant before the Nazis. It's the movie that sparked three sequels to-date, and a fourth one supposedly still to come. Bringing a whip probably isn't recommended, but you know Indy will have one.
For four decades, Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami explored his homeland — and sometimes the world as well — through a deeply thoughtful, probing and humanist lens. His features don't simply peer on at people and the places they call home; the late, great director's films truly see both his characters and the spaces they inhabit. And when he passed away in 2016, he left cinema with an exquisite body of work. This year, Sydney Film Festival and the Australian Centre for the Moving Image are teaming up to pay tribute to the inimitable auteur, in the sixth of their collaborations to-date. Thanks to a retrospective season called The Long & Winding Road: The Films of Abbas Kiarostami, the two organisations will screen eight of Kiarostami's features and three of his shorts — and gems abound across the lineup. In Melbourne, the program will play from Thursday, September 2–Monday, September 13 — and spans early works, award-winners and seminal Iranian features all-round. Among the highlights: Kiarostami's debut The Traveler, about a boy who desperately wants to attend a soccer match; Close-Up, which blends fiction and documentary; Ten, his snapshot of the lives of contemporary Iranian women; and Taste of Cherry, the first Iranian film to win the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival.
UPDATE Thursday, July 29: Following the latest lockdown, Rare Hare reopens today, July 29, while Doot Doot Doot and Flaggerdoot reopen their doors tomorrow, July 30. For more details on Victoria's current restrictions, see the Department of Health and Human Services website. If you survived a total of five Melbourne lockdowns, chances are you could do with a big ol' treat yo'self moment right now. And the Mornington Peninsula's Jackalope is happy to provide. This month, the luxury hotel and all three of its hospitality venues are serving up a series of limited-edition truffle creations to celebrate Victoria's truffle season. With this lineup, you might just find an excuse for more than one visit. Fine diner Doot Doot Doot is plating up the likes of burnt honey and truffle crumpets served with caviar and wattle cultured cream, and Moreton Bay Bugs with truffle mornay and truffled duck fat potatoes. Casual restaurant Rare Hare is using truffle to elevate a dish of wild mushroom ragout with polenta, while the hotel's in-room dining menu has scored a luxe new addition in the lobster and truffle rolls, designed to match the new Jackalope x Everleigh Martini. And at onsite bar Flaggerdoot, you can knock back specialty sips like a truffle negroni and the Penicillin crafted on truffle oil fat-washed bourbon. The specials will be available from each respective venue, throughout July.
You might be locked up at home (again), but at least you don't have to settle for boring breakfast eats. Beloved Brunswick East burger joint The B.East has brought back its Brettfast Club lockdown series, paying homage to everyone's favourite Brett — Victorian CHO, Professor Brett Sutton, of course — with a lineup of daily specials worth getting out of bed for. Swing by from 12–2pm each day to nab yourself a $13 breakfast burger, loaded with egg, maple bacon and jalapeno. There's a vegan alternative, or if a caffeine hit is on your radar, skip the latte and bring along your reusable cup for a serve of the bar's Espresso Quarantini for $9. Lockdown got you feeling hungry and thirsty? The B.East's got it covered with a wallet-friendly combo deal, which includes both offerings for an easy $20. And you'll also find all of the above Brettfast Club goodies available from Fitzroy sibling venue The B.East of Brunswick Street.
With Spiral: From the Book of Saw, what came first: the decision to call its protagonist Ezekiel, or the casting of Samuel L Jackson as said character's father? Either way, the film's creative team must've felt mighty pleased with themselves; getting the Pulp Fiction actor to utter the name that's been synonymous with his bible-quoting, Quentin Tarantino-penned monologue for more than a quarter-century doesn't happen by accident. What now four-time franchise director Darren Lynn Bousman (Saw II, Saw III and Saw IV) and Jigsaw screenwriters Josh Stolberg and Pete Goldfinger mightn't have realised, though, is just how clumsily this choice comes across. The Saw series has made almost a billion dollars at the worldwide box office, but now it's resorting to winking and nodding to one of its latest stars' past movies. Perhaps Bousman and company didn't notice because almost everything about Spiral feels that forced, awkward, clunky and badly thought-out. Jackson and Chris Rock might gift the long-running franchise a couple of high-profile new faces; however, this ostensible reboot is exactly as derivative as you'd expect of the ninth instalment in a 17-year-old shock- and gore-driven saga. Focusing on a wisecracking, gung-ho, about-to-be-divorced police detective known for exposing his dirty colleagues, Spiral tries to coil the series in a different direction, at least superficially — and pretends to have meaty matters on its mind. Ezekiel 'Zeke' Banks (Rock, The Witches) has been crusading for honesty, integrity, fairness and honour in law enforcement for years. Starting back when his now-retired dad Marcus (Jackson, Death to 2020) was the precinct's chief, he's been vilified by his peers for his efforts. When a killer appears to be targeting rotten cops, too, Zeke is desperate to lead the case. Initially, he just wants to avenge the death of the first victim, one of the only co-workers he called a friend, but he's soon trying to track down a murderer that seems to be following in franchise villain Jigsaw's footsteps. A lone wolf-type not by choice but necessity, Banks also happens to be saddled with a rookie partner (Max Minghella, The Handmaid's Tale) as he attempts to stop the bodies from piling up. Even if Spiral had reached screens in May last year as was initially intended pre-pandemic, it would've arrived in a social, cultural and political climate that has been rightly taking a stand against police brutality. The film doesn't have much to say about the topic, however. Recycling the usual cop movie tropes — corruption is endemic, a select few battle against it, but the bad routinely outmuscles the good — it uses the subject as nothing more than a gimmick. Forget weight, depth, nuance or resonance. Spiral just wants a reason for its killer to keep offing cops within its grimy, dankly lit, often jittery fames, and for Zeke to have almost zero backup. Like the pig's heads used by its new agony-inflicting maniac, the end result is bloody yet empty. It smacks of trying to dress up a well-worn idea in fresh packaging, but then only making a half-hearted attempt that relies upon on another genre's conventions. Indeed, the police procedural format, the cast, the topical themes, the 70s thriller look and the focus on a different murderer are all part of a big bait-and-switch act; they might lure viewers in, but a torture porn flick that's rarely even standard is sadly the only thing that awaits. The deaths, which are largely seen in flashbacks devoid of any tension, are characteristically nasty and gruesome. Covering severed tongues, ripped-off appendages, flayed carcasses and drowning via hot wax, they're designed to get the squeamish to avert their eyes again and again. But testing the audience's threshold for blood, guts, gore and complicated torture devices isn't the same as engaging them. Nor is combining the series' brand of gratuitous one-upmanship and supposed lessons with Seven-esque box deliveries and the kind of by-the-numbers serial killer taunting that wouldn't have even made the first draft of any David Fincher project. Spiral doesn't just do the bare minimum in its purported attempt to tackle problematic cops, but demonstrates the same contentedness to merely tick boxes with the franchise's grisly staples, too. A word to the easily nauseated: the film's panic-inducing traps and macabre dismemberments aren't pleasant, which is wholly in keeping with the template set up by Australians James Wan (Aquaman) and Leigh Whannell (The Invisible Man) back in 2004's first movie, but it's hard to be put off by something that's this dully formulaic. Perhaps driven by a dream to wake up on-screen chained to a pipe — with a saw within reach, of course — Rock instigated his own involvement in Spiral. A big fan of the series, and of horror movies in general, he came up with the idea for the feature's detective storyline as well. While he's the best thing about the film, he also often feels as if he's mixing his stand-up routines with his far-superior performance in last year's fourth season of Fargo. Yes, with both Jackson and Rock alike, Spiral just can't stop reminding its viewers that its talents both have better projects to their names. Don't go expecting much of their collaboration here, either, with the picture pairing them up sparingly and leaving the audience wanting more — which is the only instance where that statement proves true throughout the entire movie. When the film abruptly comes to an end, it unsurprisingly sets up its next chapter, but it certainly hasn't earned anyone's continued investment. And, in case you'd missed how little it cares for its police brutality narrative, it chooses to end with an image so cliched that it makes the hackneyed dialogue about playing games and the clues delivered on USB drives seem positively fresh in comparison. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nuINvoFAnng
Whether they're your go-to bite-sized first course or your jam-packed meat- and vegetable-filled main meal, everyone loves dim sims and dumplings. And whether you prefer wontons or gyoza, pierogi or mandu, you'll find them at Welcome to Thornbury's returning Dimmy and Dumpling Festival. From 12–10pm on Saturday, May 29, the Northcote favourite will welcome a lineup of D&D-serving eateries for two days. While just who'll be serving up dishes is yet to be announced, previous fests have involved the likes of Woking Amazing, The Brunswick Mess Hall, Harry Hoo, Pierogi Pierogi, Dim Sim King and Flaming Dimmies. So, you'll likely be able to enjoy momo for lunch, jiaozi for dinner and pirozhki in between. Entry is free, and then it's a buy-what-you-plan-to-eat kind of deal. And although we don't recommend giving human food to dogs, your pet pupper is welcome to come along while you scoff down all of the dim sims and dumplings you can handle.
UPDATE, February 16, 2021: Miss Juneteenth is available to stream via Google Play and YouTube Movies. "Ain't no American dream for Black folks," Turquoise Jones (Nicole Beharie) is told partway through Miss Juneteenth by her boss Wayman (Marcus M Mauldin). The latter isn't being dismissive or pessimistic, just realistic — he owns the Fort Worth bar and barbecue joint where Turquoise works, and that she's always trying to spruce up; however, he's comfortable simply holding onto the place he's fought so hard to call his own. He outlines that struggle to his super-conscientious and hard-working number-one employee, including the efforts by developers to buy him out and gentrify this corner of Texas. He explains why the comfort-food menu, the boozy regulars and the fact that his joint is a beloved neighbourhood hangout spot all means so much to him. He not only utters a powerful line, but a potent explanation of how the US operates for people of colour, who often aren't even given the luxury of dreaming big. By this point in this observant, tender but clear-eyed film, it's already apparent that Turquoise's life hasn't turned out as she wished as a child, and that she's striving to ensure that things are better for her 15-year-old daughter Kai (Alexis Chikaeze). Also evident: that Turquoise was on a different path a decade and a half ago, after winning the local Miss Juneteenth beauty pageant and earning a scholarship to the historically Black college of her choosing. Doing the math, it's easy to work out why Turquoise's plans faltered, and why she's so determined that Kai enter the upcoming pageant, wow everyone, win and make the most of the coveted opportunity. Miss Juneteenth is a movie about choices, though — a movie about grabbing what you can when so much is snatched away or simply out of reach for unfair reasons — and it never forgets that it takes strength and courage to truly understand what the best options are. For those wondering about the pageant's portmanteau name, and the movie's, it hails back to June 19, 1865, and the chapter of history it refers to is pivotal to the feature. More than two years earlier, slavery was outlawed in the US via President Abraham Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation — but Black Texans weren't told until the date now celebrated as Juneteenth. Accordingly, the contest that gives the film its moniker is supposed to be a celebration, a recognition of the past, and a chance for young women to take a proud and empowered step forward. But, as Turquoise's very existence typifies even if she hasn't quite realised it yet, it also enforces a strict set of rules, standards and expectations upon Black teenage girls. It dictates who they should be rather than letting them dare to attempt to follow their own hearts, learn to be independent, shape their own identities, and accept that their own hopes and desires might differ from those imposed upon them. The feature directorial debut of writer/director Channing Godfrey Peoples, Miss Juneteenth makes a careful and graceful effort to balance two ideas: that American society doesn't just have a problematic history with race relations, but that inequality is now engrained in everyday life; and that choosing one's own future, rather than ever simply towing a mandated line, is wholeheartedly worth fighting for even with seemingly insurmountable obstacles in the way. Turquoise describes her 2004 crown win as feeling "like I was walking into a new life", while Kai would prefer to join her school's dance team and hang out with her boyfriend (Jaime Matthis) than don formal gowns, memorise Maya Angelou poems and learn which cutlery to use when; however, they're not the only people caught in the middle of this situation. Whenever Turquoise asks her mother Charlotte (Lori Hayes) for assistance — to watch Kai while she flits between her two jobs, trying to earn enough money for pageant fees, expensive dresses and to keep the power on — she's confronted by a disapproving woman who uses religion to escape her own deep-seated woes. And while Turquoise's ex and Kai's father Ronnie (Kendrick Sampson) wants to be part of their lives permanently, his unreliable choices — also endeavouring to push him ahead in life — repeatedly spark further worries. Little about Miss Juneteenth's message, themes or the clashing predicament the film covers is new, of course. Nor is the time spent watching, with a cynical eye, the pomp and ceremony of the eponymous pageant. And yet this affecting drama always proves keenly observed, sincerely handled and authentic. Naturalistic cinematography helps — the type that lets audiences see the grimy bathroom Turquoise has to clean at work, but also spots the vivid colours in objects around her — but the picture's naturalistic central portrayals are its biggest strength. Playing a woman who has spent her whole life thinking that success only looks one specific way, Beharie takes Turquoise on an internalised journey that makes its impact known in every gesture and gaze. It's a complex, nuanced performance, and one that demonstrates why the Shame, Black Mirror and Little Fires Everywhere actor should be a bigger presence on the big and small screens. The movie's scenes between Beharie and engaging first-timer Chikaeze are just as special, though, and give Miss Juneteenth its foundation. As a filmmaker, Peoples sees the past, present and future of her characters, and of Black Americans, in tandem — and while her feature doesn't pretend to speak to the entire Black experience, it eagerly, generously and openly endeavours to lay bare as much about its chosen slice of life as possible. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgUZ2AHp4rU
Each week, Australia's cinemas deliver plenty of excuses to spend time in a darkened theatre with your eyes glued to the big screen. But when the Jewish International Film Festival returns for 2021 — after sitting out last year due to the pandemic — it'll serve up even more reasons to spend a night or several at the flicks, especially if you're keen to explore a top-notch program of movies and television shows with ties to Jewish culture. A hefty lineup spanning 29 features, 19 documentaries and episodes from three TV series is on the bill when the festival hits Melbourne between Wednesday, February 17–Tuesday, March 16 — running at the Classic and Lido cinemas. JIFF 2021 will open with Incitement, which won Best Film at the Ophir Awards (aka Israel's version of the Oscars), and steps into a young Orthodox law student's attempt to assassinate the Israeli Prime Minister in 1995. At the other end of the fest, it'll close with the first two episodes from the third season of Shtisel, starring Unorthodox breakout Shira Haas as the member of a Haredi family in Jerusalem. Also on offer: Haas again, this time as a teenager with a degenerative health condition in Asia; coming-of-age comedy Shiva Baby, focusing on a college student dealing with dramas at the titular event; and When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit, about a Jewish family fleeing Berlin in the 30s. Or, you can check out Ruth – Justice Ginsburg In Her Own Words, the latest documentary about the late, great Supreme Court Justice; Alan Pakula: Going for Truth, which pays tribute to the director of To Kill a Mockingbird, Sophie's Choice, All the President's Men and more; and The Last Vermeer, with Dracula's Claes Bang as an army officer investigating paintings taken by the Nazis and Aussie star Guy Pearce playing a Dutch art dealer. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbOEtyKJ17A Top image: Shtisel, Ohad Romano.
Dance parties are back on the menu for 2021, with Untitled Group pulling together the tastemakers and boundary-pushers of the Australian dance music scene for the return of its famed day parties. Headlined by ARIA-nominated producer Hayden James, best-known for hits such as 'Something About You' and 'Between Us', the latest day party will see Melbourne revellers descend on The Timber Yard come Saturday, February 27. The 6000-square-metre Port Melbourne warehouse venue is primed for COVID-safe events, with spacious indoor and outdoor areas, and plenty of room for socially distanced dancing. That said, the venue will be operating at a reduced capacity for the nine-hour party, so you'll need to move quick if you want tickets. Untitled Group hosted virtual day parties throughout lockdown, with Hayden James, Dom Dolla, and Willaris.K all performing live-streamed sets. Now, it's taking the day party back to the people, hosting its first IRL Melbourne event with Torren Foot and Jordan Brando back in late January. Pre-sale starts at 6pm on Thursday, February 11, with registration closing at 3pm. General sale kicks off at 12pm on Friday, February 12. Untitled Day Party runs from 1–10pm. Images: Ben Jones
When life as we knew it changed last year, Mount Zero Olives joined the ranks of local businesses learning to adapt, transforming its usual quarterly warehouse market into a drive-thru disco market. Now, with Melburnians on the path back to normality, it's reverting to the usual in-person variety. So, come 9am–2pm on Saturday, February 27, you can hop out of your car and have a wander at the Zero Waste Warehouse Market. As the name suggests, you'll need to bring your own reusable containers with you. Bags, bottles, jars, buckets with lids — if you can put food in it, seal it and take it all home with you, it counts. Here's what you'll be buying and stuffing into those containers: Mount Zero Olives' olives, of course, plus olive oils, pulses and grains. You can also nab some pink lake salt from Dimboola, Koji & Co's miso and shio koji, eggs from Tom's Paddock, and sauces and condiments from Little Wing. And, you know what Sunshine Honey sells, obviously.
If sparkling wine puts some extra fizz into your life, then you'll want to drink your way through this Melbourne event. Across Friday, April 30–Saturday, May 1, the Bubbles Festival is coming to town to celebrate the most effervescent boozy beverages there are. You'll sip, you'll chat, and you'll meet the folks who make and distribute the tipples in question as well. You'll also eat canapes — no one wants to down champagne, prosecco and other sparkling drinks on an empty stomach — while you're sampling and tasting across two hours. At least ten different wines will be on offer, and your $79 ticket also includes a champagne tasting glass to take home with you. It all takes place at Lieux in Cremorne, with three sessions available: from 6–8pm on Friday, and at either 12–2pm or 2.30–4.30pm on Saturday. If you're feeling like really treating your sparkling-loving self, you can pay an extra $55 for a VIP ticket, which gets you access to a special cuvée tasting before the regular doors open — and two tasting glasses, rather than one.
It happened when home video arrived, when streaming became prevalent and, over the past year, when public life shut down during the pandemic. Yes, the death of cinema-going has been predicted again and again — but film lovers will always feel the yearning to see a movie on a big screen in a room filled with fellow cinephiles. For Melburnians who fancy doing just that and seeing the latest and greatest in LGBTQIA+, the city's annual queer film festival is back with its first in-cinema program in 12 months. You might remember that MQFF was actually underway in 2020 when lockdowns hit, and then held an online event later in the year. From Thursday, March 11–Sunday, March 21, the Melbourne Queer Film Festival will hit up Village Cinemas Jam Factory, Cinema Nova and the Village Cinemas Coburg Drive-In for MQFF Together, its 2021 fest. Head along, and you'll be able to catch a lineup of 64 movies that haven't sat in your streaming queue lately. That means you'll want to put the remote down, farewell your couch and get ready to smell that familiar popcorn scent. On the bill: Supernova, a touching queer drama starring Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci as a longterm couple navigating significant health woes; The World to Come, a frontier romance featuring Katherine Waterston (The Third Day) and Vanessa Kirby (Pieces of a Woman). The festival takes place in autumn, but you can pretend otherwise with moving French feature Summer of 85 and rural-set Aussie effort My First Summer. Plus, Rebel Dykes explores lesbian punk music, while PS Burn this Letter Please looks back at New York City's drag scene in the 50s. And, bookending MQFF Together are to notable titles, if you're keen to start and end your viewing in a big way. Irish rom-com Dating Amber takes pride of place on opening night, and takes viewers back to high school in the 90s. As for closing night, it too will combine romance and comedy thanks to Breaking Fast. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1SEoi8r1Z4Y
Every couple has in-jokes, a valuable currency in all relationships, but only Jenny Slate and Dean Fleischer-Camp have turned a cute private gag into Marcel the Shell with Shoes On. The Parks and Recreation actor and the Fraud director are no longer together romantically, marrying and divorcing in the 13 years since they first gave the world the cutest talking shell anyone could've imagined; however, they've now reteamed professionally for an adorable film based on their 2010, 2011 and 2014 shorts. Marcel the Shell with Shoes On also gave rise to two best-selling children's picture books, unsurprisingly, following a familiar internet-stardom path from online sensation to print and now the big screen. Neither Slate and Fleischer-Camp's faded love nor their joint project's history are ignored by their footwear-sporting seashell's cinematic debut, either; in fact, acknowledging both, whether subtly or overtly, is one of the things that makes this sweet, endearing, happily silly, often hilarious and deeply insightful movie such an all-round gem. That inside jest? A voice put on by Slate, which became the one-inch-high anthropomorphic Marcel's charming vocals. In Marcel the Shell with Shoes On's initial mockumentary clips, the tiny critter chats to an unseen filmmaker chronicling his life, with earnestness dripping from every word. ("My name is Marcel and I'm partially a shell, as you can see on my body, but I also have shoes and a face. So I like that about myself, and I like myself and I have a lot of other great qualities as well," he advises in his self-introduction.) The same approach, tone and voice sits at the heart of Marcel the Shell with Shoes On's feature-length leap, of course, but so does a touching meditation upon loss, change and valuing what's truly important. Fleischer-Camp plays the movie's documentarian, mostly off-camera, who meets Marcel and his grandmother (voiced by Isabella Rossellini, Julia) after moving into an Airbnb following a relationship breakup — and, yes, their work together becomes a viral phenomenon. With Fleischer-Camp directing IRL, plus co-penning the warmhearted script with Slate and Nick Paley (who has helmed episodes of Broad City and Inside Amy Schumer), Marcel the Shell with Shoes On spends its opening third initiating viewers into its namesake's world. Clever sight gags abound — inventive uses of everyday objects, too, with honey helping Marcel walk on walls, sneakers (not Marcel's) forming part of ziplines and a tennis ball repurposed as a mollusk-appropriate car. As rendered with a combination of stop-motion animation and live-action, the film's central setting is a delight of details, and each item that's essential to Marcel and Nanna Connie's lives says plenty about them. Theirs is a modest but resourceful and curious existence, and Marcel the Shell with Shoes On's production design screams its love for that combination even when no one is speaking. Here, the movie's main figure plays tour guide, as he did in the shorts, outlining how everything operates. Dean records and asks questions, paying Marcel more attention than any of the abode's previous guests ever have. But melancholy underscores the shell's every response, with Marcel and the ageing Connie missing the rest of their family thanks to their home's owners' (Undone's Rosa Salazar and Halloween Kills' Thomas Mann) own split (aka the reason the house is an Airbnb to begin with, bringing Dean to their door). From there, Marcel the Shell with Shoes On sends its characters, human and talking, walking, kicks-adorned shells alike, on a quest to reunite Marcel and Connie with their lost relatives. That's the narrative arc, but Fleischer-Camp, Slate and Paley also keenly understand the need to accept the ebbs and flows that simply living brings everyone's way, even as their film scurries in eager search of a happy ending. The delights are in the details everywhere that Marcel the Shell with Shoes On looks, including in its slicker but still low-key visuals. A handcrafted appearance, from Marcel's single googly eye through to cinematographers Eric Adkins (SpongeBob SquarePants) and Bianca Cline's (Belly of the Beast) keen use of perspective, couldn't be more crucial to the movie's cosy allure — and those careful and caring images do feel lived-in. This is a movie about coping with seismic shifts to one's comfortable status quo, too, so the snug, homely sheen assists in communicating why Marcel isn't so fond of change. He wants to see his family again. He's interested in the world around him. He's set in his busy daily routine. And he's worried about the ailing Nanna Connie, who tends to her window garden, adores the US version of 60 Minutes and its veteran host Lesley Stahl, and has an accent explained by being from the distant location that is the garage. Marcel really just wants what we all yearn for, though: happiness we've known and lost. Ensuring that family-friendly animation is genuinely adult-friendly is a rarer skill than it might seem; just because all-ages-courting flicks reach screens with frequency, that doesn't mean they all keep both older and younger viewers equally engaged. Marcel the Shell with Shoes On has the kid-centric cuteness down pat inherently — just look at Marcel, as millions have since those first shorts — but its mature and layered storyline is just as much of a wonder for everyone else. While the picture's midsection savvily and amusingly skewers internet attention, aka the type that's followed this seashell for more than a decade (and Slate's career as well), getting the room to create something this thoughtful out of a viral hit is one of its spoils in this specific instance. Slate and Fleischer-Camp have channelled their inner Marcel, clearly, making the most of the situation and its ups and downs — and making a soul-refreshing marvel. Don't be suspicious: an online-famous critter that sprang from an in-joke about a funny voice has indeed sparked this sincere and soothing — and impressively, intelligently meta — film. Marcel the Shell with Shoes On's achievements are many, including offering a far cheerier alternative to Barbarian when it comes to folks unexpectedly sharing the same Airbnb, but its biggest might be its deceptive simplicity. Yes, it's a movie about a chattering shell dressed in footwear. Yes, it knows what worked in Marcel's early screen appearances and doesn't shy away from it. Fleshing all of that out to feature length proves just like putting your ear up to a seashell here: you can see and hear the world in this delicate, tender and disarmingly beautiful film. You can also listen to the iconic and inimitable Rossellini serve up a rich, smooth and enchanting vocal effort with an impeccable sense of comic timing, which is exactly the kind of treat that Marcel would want everyone to revel in.
In reality, cantankerous curmudgeons don't routinely possess hearts of gold. Genuine intentions don't always gleam behind petty folks with grudges spouting insults, either. Movies like A Man Called Otto keep claiming otherwise, though, because cinema is an empathy machine — and placing viewers in the shoes of characters different to them, whether in background, behaviour, situation or temperament, remains key among its functions. Tom Hanks, the silver screen's beloved everyman of more than four decades, knows this. Veteran filmmaker Marc Forster does as well. After getting villainous in Elvis and sweet with Christopher Robin, respectively, the actor and director join forces for a feature advocating for understanding, kindness and acceptance. Behind that cranky nitpicker, local annoyance or rude aggressor might just lurk a story worth appreciating and a person worth knowing, it sentimentally posits. This Americanisation of A Man Called Ove, Fredrik Backman's Swedish 2012 novel that first hit the screen in its native language in 2015, did indeed come about exactly as expected. Hanks and his wife Rita Wilson saw the Oscar-nominated OG movie, contacted its producer Fredrik Wikström Nicastro (Borg vs McEnroe), then went about making a US-set, Hanks-starring iteration. Wilson is now also one of A Man Called Otto's producers. Truman Hanks, Tom's youngest son with Wilson, co-stars as the young Otto (nabbing just his second on-screen credit after popping up in his dad's News of the World). This flick's smooth path to cinemas and the easy family ties behind it speak volumes about the film that results; despite focusing on a man repeatedly trying to take his own life, attempts at which are constantly interrupted by his rule-breaking neighbours, openly and breezily warming hearts and pleasing crowds is this remake's aim. Misanthropic and embittered beyond even the internet's most pointless keyboard warriors, Otto hasn't met a scenario he can't sour with his resentment and sometimes downright cruelty. Cue arguing with hardware store workers about being charged for too much rope, yelling about dogs urinating on his lawn, denigrating walkers for their exercise attire, snapping at his forced retirement party, gruffly spouting property bylaws in his gated townhouse community and getting short with a stray cat. Hence the struggle to make his exit, too, because there's always someone or something to scold. Soon, that spans the pregnant Marisol (Mariana Treviño, Narcos: Mexico) and her husband Tommy (Manuel Garcia-Rulfo, The Lincoln Lawyer), who move in across the road with their kids Abbie (Alessandra Perez, To Leslie) and Luna (Christiana Montoya, The Guilty). Otto starts shouting at Marisol and her family about poor parking skills, but she isn't just willing to grin and bear his persnicketiness or bad temper. A film that rebukes nastiness instead of justifying it with a sob story, this isn't, however. It can't be. Since A Man Called Otto is a star vehicle for Hanks, its namesake is instantly destined to become likeable well before the end credits roll. That transition is true to the Swedish source material, but it feels unearned here. Specifically, it plays like casting doing too much heavy lifting, because an adored, usually affable, reluctant-to-be-disagreeable actor is going to turn out that way, as he frequently does, in this kind of uncomplicated affair. It's also a missed opportunity to make a statement about unpleasant people who are jerks for the sake of it, but that isn't the tale that Backman wrote, Swedish filmmaker Hannes Holm (Ted — Show Me Love) initially adapted and screenwriter David Magee (Lady Chatterley's Lover) reuses. Accordingly, Otto joins the ranks of surly and churlish on-screen men made that way by trauma (a dead wife in this case, played in flashbacks by Tokyo Vice's Rachel Keller, plus the isolation and loneliness he's been plagued with since her recent passing). Also, he's someone that everyone else can see goodness shining within even when he's at his worst. In other words, he's a scowling bag of cliches, which the movie endeavours to give depth via Hanks and Treviño. A Man Called Otto's best touch isn't pretending to get its high-profile lead playing against type, an approach that persuades no one. As a result, it isn't Hanks' committed but largely implausible efforts, either. Rather, it's ensuring that the charismatic Marisol is so convincing in her optimism, reluctance to let her crotchety neighbour bring her down and willingness to help anyone she can — selling why she, and anyone, would, could and should invest time and patience in Otto. When a feature needs a good-natured supporting character to make its audience care about its hostile protagonist, that isn't a great sign. With A Man Called Otto, this can't have been the desired outcome — just a matter of expecting Hanks to do what Hanks does, his charm kicking in regardless of what's around him. Worse movies have made that bet before, even if the actor's resume is filled with far more highs than lows. Forster's picture almost goes all in, Treviño's canny portrayal aside, given how by-the-numbers it proves in most of its choices (including workmanlike cinematography by Christopher Robin's Matthias Koenigswieser and an emotion-signposting score by Operation Mincemeat's Thomas Newman). There's being easygoing and then there's just ticking the straightforward, unchallenging and plainest-to-see boxes, with the director behind everything from Monster's Ball, Finding Neverland and Stranger Than Fiction to The Kite Runner, Quantum of Solace and World War Z clearly going for the former and achieving the latter. If the entirety of A Man Called Otto was as textured and luminous as Treviño's performance, viewers would've been gifted a better and less cloying film. That would've meant beefing up or ditching other plot points that happily skew broad and thin, and play like padding, such as rallying against exploitative corporations, turning Otto into a social-media star, using his fastidiousness to save the day, navigating multiple health conditions and serving up supposedly out-of-character nice deeds. And, it would've required giving gravity to Otto's recurrent suicide attempts, rather than being content with unamusing awkwardness. Also, it'd mean actually being funny, darkly, lightly, Curb Your Enthusiasm-style or otherwise. That said, the heartstring-pulling still works whenever Marisol is involved. A version of this tale from the scene-stealing Latin American character's perspective, unpacking issues of gender and race that this flick doesn't touch? That would've been refreshing, and might've also truly been loveable.
Films about humanity's affinity with animals are films about our ties to the natural world — and doesn't Blueback splash that truth around. Plunging from The Dry into the wet, writer/director Robert Connolly reteams with Eric Bana for another page-to-screen adaptation of a homegrown book; this is another movie inseparable from its landscape, too, again exploring the impact people have upon it. This time, however, Bana isn't the star. He's memorable as larrikin abalone diver and fisherman 'Mad' Macka, and this Tim Winton-based feature would've benefited from more of his presence, but the Dirty John actor is firmly in supporting mode. Set against the enticing Western Australian coast as the author's work tends to be, this is a picture about the sea's thrall, existential importance and inherent sense of connection — as filtered through the bond between a girl and a wild blue groper, plus the evolving relationship between that same child and her eco-warrior mother. Mia Wasikowska (Bergman Island) plays Blueback's fish-befriending protagonist as an adult, with the text's Abel becoming Abby here. Radha Mitchell (Girl at the Window) shares the screen as Dora, her widowed mother, early in the film's year-hopping timeline. Still, in their second of three movies in succession — arriving before upcoming The Dry sequel Force of Nature — Connolly and Bana dip back into familiar territory. Obvious swaps are evident, including a beachside rather than a farming community, and atrocities against the planet and its wildlife instead of crimes against people, but it's easy to see Blueback's appeal as a reunion project. Among the key differences as Abby and Dora fight to save their town and its aquatic treasures, still battling wrongs to strive for what's right: this is an overtly and eagerly family-friendly affair. When Blueback introduces Abby, she's a marine biologist trying to stop the earth's coral reefs from being destroyed. Then comes a call from home about her mum. In Longboat Bay, Dora (played in her elder years by Liz Alexander, Clickbait) has suffered a stroke — and, in a too-neat move, that medical situation is used to inspire Abby's memories of why she chose her line of work in the first place. While Winton's novella initially hit shelves in 1997, justifying someone caring for the environment is a very 2020s touch. Being concerned about the planet doesn't require an origin story for a second, but they're the tales that flicker across screens in droves of late. Not all heroes wear capes, yet movies about valiant deeds and worthy attitudes keep feeling obliged to couch them in such terms. Wasikowska is sincere and affecting as the older Abby, her performance bathed in equal parts melancholy and determination, but Blueback's best sequences don't always involve the Judy & Punch and Crimson Peak talent. Connolly has cast his three versions of Abby well; taking on the character as a pre-teen and then a high schooler, and conveying resolve buoyed by curiosity and youthful hope in the process, Wolf Like Me's Ariel Donoghue and screen debutant Ilsa Fogg are each commanding and compelling. The biggest scene-stealers? The intricate mechanised puppetry by Creature Technology Company, which brings the movie's namesake to life, plus Rick Rifici's (Facing Monsters) wondrous underwater cinematography. Indeed, Blueback's lack of subtlety about Dora's health is so unnecessary because the film's strikingly shot and staged moments between a kid and a mesmerising fish communicate everything that needs saying anyway, and genuinely make the audience feel as Abby feels. Having read Winton's book over the past quarter-century isn't a prerequisite for knowing how Abby and Blueback's connection flows. Although this is just the latest movie sparked by the writer's prose — see also: Dirt Music, Breath and anthology The Turning in the past decade alone, the latter of which Connolly produced and Wasikowska directed a segment of — spying Winton's usual love of water, the WA coast, the environment and coming-of-age tales isn't, either. The author's regular hallmarks float through Blueback, but a child forging a sense of fellowship with another critter, loving their domain and discovering themselves along the way is its trusty anchor. Cinema in general, and Australian cinema specifically, is so fond of this storyline that the resulting flicks are practically their own genre. Where the two versions of Storm Boy, the Red Dog pictures and Oddball have all paddled before, this feature now swims (with ripples of overseas efforts Free Willy and Pete's Dragon as well). On a varied resume that spans The Bank, Balibo, and TV shows The Slap and Barracuda, too, Connolly also helmed Paper Planes. Consequently, as that film illustrated with its underdog chronicle about mastering a new skill in the pursuit of childhood glory, he knows a thing or two about working with well-worn all-ages formulas that've been sweeping over screens for generations. As glaringly as the sun bouncing off a glistening expanse of blue as far as the eye can see, oh-so-much about Blueback fits an easy template. Chief among them: the conflict between the younger Dora and shady developer Costello (Erik Thomson, How to Please a Woman), who wants to snap up the land that Abby's family's shack stands on, reshape the shoreline to the detriment of its marine life and make a bundle, all with help from nefarious spearfishers. Thankfully, there's also an ocean's worth of heart beating within Connolly's current release, especially whenever the titular creature makes an enchanting appearance. An unflinchingly earnest movie about valuing the natural world and stopping its decimation, as told with visual splendour that helps make its point through spectacular below-the-sea imagery, yet struggling with nuance: yes, add Avatar: The Way of Water to the lengthy list of films that Blueback recalls. This Aussie feature premiered on the festival circuit before James Cameron's 13-years-in-the-making blockbuster, though. It's also a quieter and more tender experience. Nonetheless, while scenic lensing by Nude Tuesday's Andrew Commis catches the eye on dry land as well, Blueback similarly gets caught adrift above the tide. Blunt eco-focused flicks aren't going anywhere, however, and nor should they. As Dora and Abby do for their patch of sand, friendly groper and the blue rock we all call home, this movie is campaigning — broadly, simplistically yet still engagingly, and as a fable for viewers young and old alike.
The Polish Festival is making its return this weekend at Federation Square spotlighting Polish entertainment, hospitality and cuisine. Among the many vendors involved this year is Pierogi Pierogi, which you'll find nestled behind Transport Bar on Princes Walk. "Our whole year revolves around getting to Polish Festival, seeing all our friends and showing Melbourne how good our pierogi tastes. One year we had two security guards keeping the line in check because it was so crazy!" Pierogi Pierogi co-owner Dominika Sikorska says. Guests can choose from an array of delectable Polish dumplings at the food fest, including flavours like Ruskie (creamy potato and white cheese), Kapusta (mushroom and sauerkraut), Mieso (organic beef and vegetable), and the special-edition Kielbasa (smoked sausage, melted cheese and mustard). All variations are served with sour cream, crispy fried onion, bacon and onion jam, or dill. Vegan sour cream is available for the green-eaters among us. The Polish Festival will run from 11am—5pm on Saturday, November 12. Check out the official page for more information. [caption id="attachment_877175" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Pierogi Pierogi - Supplied[/caption] Top image: Pierogi Pierogi — supplied
Taking your pet to get a family portrait with Santa is such a thing now. Dress the little one up as a reindeer or give them their own cute festive jumper for the day. Then use the photos for your next Christmas card, stick them on the fridge and post a few on Instagram, to share the cuteness of your four-legged friend with as many people as you can. And to help festive dog parents get their seasonal snaps, View Melbourne is hosting a Santa Paws event where you can get free pictures of your dog with Santa Claus. Head down on Wednesday, December 14 to get your 2022 Christmas family portrait sorted. Rather than the usual shopping mall vibe where these sorts of pics are usually taken, this photoshoot is happening at the hotels' beer garden Hop Garden, so you can hang out with people who are just as obsessed with their pooch as you are with yours – enjoying a craft beer or local wine with a plate of spicy wings as your pup makes some new friends. This is a free event, but booking is essential. You'll also need to provide an email address so you can receive a digital version of your paw-fect image. Santa Paws will take place on Wednesday, December 14 at View Melbourne's Hop Garden. Find out more and book your free pet portrait here.
When Léo (debutant Eden Dambrine) and Rémi (fellow first-timer Gustav De Waele) dash the carefree dash of youth in Close's early moments, rushing from a dark bunker out into the sunshine — from rocks and forest to a bloom-filled field ablaze with colour, too — this immediately evocative Belgian drama runs joyously with them. Girl writer/director Lukas Dhont starts his sophomore feature with a tremendous moment, one that's arresting to look at and to experience. The petals pop; the camera tracks, rushes and flies; the two 13-year-olds are as exuberant and at ease as they're ever likely to be in their lives. They're sprinting because they're happy and playing, and because summer in their village — and on Léo's parents' flower farm — is theirs for the revelling in. They don't and can't realise it because no kid does, but they're also bolting from the bliss that is their visibly contented childhood to the tussles and emotions of being a teenager. Close's title does indeed apply to its two main figures; when it comes to adolescent friendships, they couldn't be tighter. As expressed in revelatory performances by Dambrine and De Waele, each of whom are genuine acting discoveries — Dhont spotted the former on a train from Antwerp to Ghent — these boys have an innocent intimate affinity closer than blood. They're euphoric with and in each other's company, and the feature plays like that's how it has always been between the two. They've also never queried or overthought what their connection means. Before high school commences, Close shows the slumber parties, and the shared hopes and dreams. It sits in on family dinners, demonstrating the ease with which each is a part of the other's broader lives amid both sets of mums and dads; Léo's are Nathalie (Léa Drucker, Custody) and Yves (Marc Weiss, Esprits de famille), Rémi's are Sophie (Émilie Dequenne, An Ordinary Man) and Peter (Kevin Janssens, Two Summers). The film adores their rapport like a summer day adores the breeze, and conveys it meticulously and movingly. To watch this 2023 Best International Feature Film Oscar-nominee, 2022 Cannes Film Festival Grand Jury Prize-winner and recipient of Sydney Film Festival's top 2022 gong is to feel, to an extent that cinema only rarely manages. In fact, Léo and Rémi's camaraderie is that vibrantly depicted, and performed with portrayals that naturalistic and unaffected, that it's three things simultaneously here: a once-in-a-lifetime marvel, as innate as the act of growing up, and instantly relatable and recognisable to anyone who has ever had their own inseparable BFF as a child. That bond is such a given for the pair themselves, and that status quo is so entrancingly communicated by the movie, that questioning it is a shock for everyone. These friends have forged their identities as a duo, but they're also at that awkward coming-of-age stage where the wider world starts intruding upon their wants, likes and senses of self, and enforcing its traditional ideas of masculinity. Bluntly, the girls in Léo and Rémi's grade ask if the two are a couple. More than that, they contend that the boys are one without even realising it. Enter the overwhelming weight of the society's norms, as Léo struggles with the schoolyard query and slowly pulls away. Words have consequences in Close. Actions do along with them. What kicks off as a portrait of a perfect friendship then segues into the agony of an idyll bursting. As homophobic jeers echo, Léo withdraws, boisterously palling around with other classmates instead and opting to take up ice hockey. Rémi keeps trying to reach out, and keeps showing his pain and confusion as Léo ditches him at breaks, after lessons, and on their usual rides to and from class. In a sensitive script penned with his Girl co-scribe Angelo Tijssens, Dhont understands the heartache and heartbreak of a boyhood bond dissolving. His feature ripples with grief on a variety of levels. But the filmmaker and the film alike also deeply appreciate the heady jubilation of its opening third. They relish it. Close's second half is shattering; however, this is a movie that knows that to have forged such a connection is a thing to treasure even when it's lost. Close's second half wouldn't devastate as it does if its first wasn't so keenly felt. This isn't an overplayed picture — understatement is one of its key and crucial elements — but it's expertly attuned to what it's like to have a kindred spirit in your youth, and to the immense void left when that's gone. Perhaps the best way to describe Close is with its homonym's antonym: open. Even when Léo begins closing himself off to Rémi, the film he's in remains unguarded in its gaze and emotions — and Dambrine and De Waele's performances retain the same trait as well. To watch Close is also to peer into the faces that fill its frames, as lensed vividly in claustrophobic closeups and telling wide shots by cinematographer Frank van den Eeden (Nobody Has to Know, and also Dhont's Girl), and to embrace the swirl of sentiments lingering inside. Looking at the movie's two young stars never simply involves seeing them overtly shift in tone. Spending more time with Dambrine isn't just a case of watching conflict, sorrow, realisation and guilt flicker in his eyes, either. Similarly, when Close intently observes the always-excellent Drucker in a pivotal mid-movie moment, then gives Dequenne more attention in its later scenes, it's open to — and tender about — how complicated its scenario and feelings have become. The details in Close are everything, as they are in all relationships. Here's a mere four examples: the alternating closeness and space that van den Eeden spies when Léo and Rémi share a mattress, as kids at sleepovers do; the pride that wells in Léo's eyes as he watches skilled musician Rémi play the oboe; the seconds that stretch like lifetimes as Léo, Drucker and Dequenne process trauma right in front of the audience; and the seasons passing, as marked by the flower farm's rainbow of colours revolving through its annual cycle. As set to a subtly rousing string-and-oboe score by Valentin Hadjadj (another Girl returnee), every aspect of this delicately crafted gem is personal yet universal, as it should be considering its origins. Dhont harked back to his own close friendships as a teen, while also taking inspiration from psychologist Niobe Way's Deep Secrets: Boys' Friendships and the Crisis of Connection, a study of 100 boys aged 13–18. It's no wonder, then, that Close couldn't feel more raw, rich and authentic.
As the Marvel Cinematic Universe continues to grow, so does the smallest of its superheroes: Ant-Man, the former thief born Scott Lang, who can shrink down to an insect's size when wearing the right technologically enhanced suit. Charmingly goofy and also plain-old charming because he's played by Paul Rudd (The Shrink Next Door), this petty criminal-turned-caped crusader scampers through his third self-titled film in Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania — and the franchise-within-a-franchise ramps up its ambition as more flicks arrive. Ant-Man can expand as well as contract, of course, but that isn't new. What's different, and about as welcome as a sting on bare legs at a picnic, is that the Ant-Man movies are no longer happy being largely standalone jaunts. This threequel has a key series-building task first, foremost and at a giant cost: kicking off the MCU's phase five. The perhaps unofficial job, too: bringing more than a zap of Star Wars into this other Disney-owned behemoth. It's lucky that the Mouse House does have both Marvel and Lucasfilm in its stable, otherwise the latter might be all abuzz about the former's latest release. Anyone who fears that too many blockbusters are becoming too similar won't feel fortunate while watching the new Honey, I Shrunk the Superhero, however, which doesn't ever saddle a character with saying "help me Ant-Man, you're my only hope", but still includes a scene that basically does the exact same thing. That moment is surrounded by shots of zap-heavy fighting in the corridors of an existence-threatening villain's stronghold that could easily be a Death Star, as even the most casual of visitors to a galaxy far, far away will spot. That said, Ant-Man's current escapades aren't happening in the space above, but in the minuscule realm that exists between atoms. At least it isn't called Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantum Battles. Imagining a world — this very world — where Disney eventually decides to mashup two of its biggest screen properties, and the box office's heftiest hits, is easier than an ant spiriting away strewn food crumbs. It's also a cinch to see Quantumania's similarities to all things Star Wars as the first step in that direction, in fact. Filmmaker Peyton Reed, who directed 2015's Ant-Man and 2018's Ant-Man and the Wasp as well, did add two episodes of The Mandalorian to his resume in-between that last flick and Quantumania. But such a blockbuster team-up isn't where this MCU chapter itself heads in its dragging 125-minute running time. Instead, it has the rest of Marvel's phase five to set up, plus a nemesis that'll linger into phase six — so much so that it feels much less interested in Ant-Man than a movie called Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania really should be. That's it's hardly fussed at all about The Wasp, aka Scott's significant other and world-saving partner Hope van Dyne (Evangeline Lilly, Crisis), should come as no surprise, then. In the 31st MCU film's opening beats, Ant-Man is indeed the star of the show. He's a celebrity basking in the fame of being among the Avengers and dealing with Thanos, and he's written a memoir about it — a book, Look Out for the Little Guy, that'll genuinely exist IRL come September. But the bliss of Scott's success gets cut down when he learns that his now 18-year-old daughter Cassie (Kathryn Newton, Freaky) has been secretly tinkering with Hope and her ant-obsessed physicist father Hank Pym (Michael Douglas, The Kominsky Method). The trio's project: sending signals down to the quantum realm. Hank's wife and Hope's mother Janet (Michelle Pfeiffer, French Exit) is also unimpressed, given that rescuing her from that microscopic place, where she spent 30 years, was no minor part of the plot of the last Ant-Man entry. Viewers should savour the precious time outside the quantum realm in Quantumania; there isn't much of it. No sooner are the Lang/van Dyne/Pym swarm talking about Cassie, Hope and Hank's experiments than they're all transported to said subatomic space, with working out how to get home far from their only worry. Janet had led the others to believe that all she found when she was gone was nothing upon nothing, but entire civilisations and species, akin to Star Wars' different planets, people and critters with a dash of Dune's and Mad Max: Fury Road's landscapes and themes, lurk below. So does the banished, trapped and genocidal Kang the Conqueror (Jonathan Majors, The Harder They Fall), the time-hopping, world-destroying new adversary who likes annihilating things just because he can — and he desperately and nefariously wants out as well. Various past MCU stars have decried the green-screen acting that's burrowed into CGI-heavy pictures, including Oscar-winners — not for Marvel movies — Christian Bale and Anthony Hopkins. Their complaints haunt Quantumania, a film where almost everything around its cast is special effects, and little that cinematographer Bill Pope (Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings) could do could salvage the feature's murkiness. Marvel's reliance upon pixels can look stunning, as seen in the first Black Panther, but the quantum realm's got nothing on Wakanda's blandest detail. Any sense of visual marvel has been not only shrunk but dulled. Any sense of anything but dutiful interest shares the same fate. So does the personality that was so crucial to the first Ant-Man, with any signs that Reed once helmed Down with Love and Bring It On absent, and screenwriter Jeff Loveness (Rick and Morty) unsuccessfully attempting to balance comedy with a drudging innerspace-opera epic. Marvel has an offbeat problem: maintaining its sillier, more playful side, which is its better side, has proven a struggle in the Thor franchise and the Guardians of the Galaxy flicks (the third of which immediately follows Quantumania, and looks to be nodding to The Fast and The Furious), too. Although Bill Murray cameos, The Good Place's William Jackson Harper reads minds and Rudd tries his hardest whenever the film dares focus on him, the third Ant-Man is as by-the-numbers and tonally flat as the MCU has ever been. Alongside ditching the upbeat vibes, plus all that open and derivative riffing on another screen saga, the scale-tinkering fight scenes that have been prior highlights make scant impression against surreal backdrops where getting larger and smaller barely seems to matter. Leaning heavily upon the likeable main quintet and a colony of smart ants is Reed and company's solution, but they're all squandered. The formidable Majors lives up to his name, though — one that perfectly fits the pint-sized titular character's big bad, and the figure who'll loom over seven more pictures in two years before 2025's Avengers: The Kang Dynasty arrives. The MCU is going massive on Kang, patently; if only it'd kept the Ant-Man pictures small.
UPDATE, May 1, 2021: I Am Greta is available to stream via Stan, Docplay, Google Play, YouTube Movies, iTunes and Prime Video. If a single image can sum up the current crucial battle against climate change, it's a picture — any picture — of Greta Thunberg. Since deciding to skip school to protest outside Sweden's parliament back in August 2018, the braid-wearing teen has become the face of a movement. She isn't the first person to sound an alarm about the dire state of the planet, to vehemently speak truth to power or to gain widespread attention, but her determined, no-nonsense approach really isn't easily forgotten. Sometimes, it's directed at ordinary Stockholm residents going about their days while she strikes. As she has garnered increasing attention, Thunberg has trained her stare on crowded United Nations' conferences, too, and at attendees with the capacity but not necessarily the inclination to make a difference. She has also met face to face with world leaders, but she knows that politicians usually only share her gaze for a photo opportunity. Demonstrating patiently, speaking passionately, shaking hands for the cameras: all of these moments are captured by documentary I Am Greta, which surveys Thunberg's ascension from everyday Swedish 15-year-old to one of the best-known figures fighting to save the earth. The film acts as a chronicle, starting with her activism on her home soil, following her efforts as she's thrust to fame, and culminating in her trip across the Atlantic Ocean via yacht to present at 2019's UN Climate Action Summit, where she gave her iconic "how dare you" speech. But as the title indicates, this doco is just as concerned with Thunberg's home life as her public impact. Accordingly, while filmmaker Nathan Grossman has an array of recognisable footage at his disposal in this slickly packaged affair — packed protests, widely seen speeches, British parliament addresses, meeting with French President Emmanuel Macron — he interweaves it with quieter, intimate and unguarded moments. Including material preceding her present status as a household name, I Am Greta watches Thunberg prepare for big events, spend time with her beloved dogs and horses, eat meals with her family, and get escorted around the world by bus, train and boat by her father Svante. These snippets help paint a picture of the teenager behind the activism, and much of it is highly relatable. She adores her pets, finding their presence soothing. She obsesses over every detail of every speech, even when her dad is reminding her to rest and eat. She happily calls herself a nerd, explains the helpful side of her Asperger syndrome diagnosis ("it might be good if everyone had a tiny bit of Asperger's, at least about the climate," she shares), talks through details of past episodes of selective mutism and notes that being bullied isn't a new part of her life. Viewers looking for something more revealing in Thunberg's daily existence will be disappointed, as will anyone eager to discover details that haven't been covered in many a profile, or keen for in-depth facts and figures. But by purposefully and repeatedly stressing that its subject is simply a young woman who feels passionate about doing everything she can to raise awareness about climate change, and to motivate the world's powers-that-be to act before it's too late, I Am Greta makes an immensely potent statement. It's one that Thunberg has vocalised on many occasions with words as direct as her glare, and it resonates just as strongly here. It shouldn't take a teen skipping school and inspiring millions more around the world to follow in her footsteps to get people talking, thinking and enacting solutions to counteract the earth's warming. Thunberg shouldn't need to be a leader in this space. At the beginning of the film, during her time spent sitting outside Swedish parliament, she acknowledges that she likely knows far more about climate change than the overwhelming bulk of Sweden's politicians — and that firmly shouldn't be the case. Also cutting through astutely is Thunberg's continued recognition of how, as her fame increases, the global response by naysayers encapsulates so much about the status quo and the lack of government action. She calls out politicians who chat and get snapped in pictures but do nothing to follow through, with Grossman letting viewers see the pageantry alongside Thunberg's perceptive observations. She reads trolling comments, too — and I Am Greta says plenty when it shows figures such as Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin, Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro and Australian Prime Minister Scott Morrison either attacking Thunberg, childishly insulting her, discounting her message or saying that the planet's younger generations should stick to studying instead of fighting for their futures. It isn't ever explicitly said, but I Am Greta also makes another pivotal point, and it applies not only to its central figure but to the rousing film itself. In addition to emphasising that the steadfast eco-warrior is a teen tackling a topic that so many of her elders have happily ignored for decades, this documentary understands that its audience already knows how they feel about Thunberg. It also recognises that its viewers are just as aware of which side they fall on when it comes to combating climate change. As a result, this movie isn't going to convert skeptics and Thunberg's critics, or alter her fans' thinking, and it isn't trying to. It'd rather show the work to effect change in action, and let that speak volumes. Indeed, what echoes here is that simply doing the right thing — doing something, in fact — is essential regardless of any obstacles and opposition, whether urged by Al Gore, David Attenborough, Aussie doco 2040, your best mate, your neighbour, a stranger or Thunberg. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mwk10YGPFiM
When life as we knew it changed earlier this year, Mount Zero Olives joined the ranks of local businesses learning to adapt. In May, it transformed its usual quarterly warehouse market into a drive-thru disco market — and yes, all the essential details are right there in the event title. Now, even though Melburnians are on the path back to normality, the market is returning again in its drive-thru disco format. Head along to Mount Zero's Sunshine West warehouse from 9am–2pm on Saturday, November 28 — with click-and-collect pre-orders open until Wednesday, November 18, so you can simply rock up and nab your order. Here's what you'll be buying: Mount Zero Olives' olives, of course, plus olive oils, pulses and and gift hampers, all at various prices; and two kilos of Meredith Dairy's marinated goats cheese for $50. Chris Gill from Triple R and Northside Records will be spinning disco tunes, other local producers will have items up for grabs — as will Meredith Dairy — and the folks from Skate Odyssey will be rollerskating around and bringing your orders to your car.
It's safe to say that 2020 has been a strange and surreal year. In fact, as we all know, that's quite the understatement. Prefer to get your weird and wonderful fix watching the big screen, rather than reading the news? That's perfectly acceptable — and that's what Monster Fest is all about. Returning to Cinema Nova from Thursday, December 3–Thursday, December 10, this fest is all about out-there cinema. In 2020, it's even taking on an apocalyptic theme. That means that film fans can expect flicks about dystopian scenarios; however, it'll also be serving up a selection of the latest and greatest genre and horror movies in general. If you're only going to add one film to your must-see list, make it Synchronic. It's the stellar new movie from The Endless duo Justin Benson and Aaron Moorehead, and features Anthony Mackie (Avengers: Endgame) and Jamie Dornan (Fifty Shades of Grey) as paramedics who keep being called out to cases involving a trippy, reality-shifting new drug. Also on the bill: Occupation: Rainfall, the sequel to Australian sci-fi film Occupation; Meander, a French thriller that sees a woman wake up trapped in a maze; and a couple of festive-themed horror movies, because it's the season for them. The list goes on, and this year's fest comes with a difference: nothing in its program screens against each other, so you can head along to absolutely everything if you're super keen. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fl_kzTQvPVw
