In Locke, the improbable proves possible — and in more ways than one. The second film from director Steven Knight (best known as the screenwriter of Dirty Pretty Things, Eastern Promises and The Hundred-Foot Journey) takes the simple and routine and turns it into the complex and compelling. Never before has a one-man effort, set solely in a car, structured around a series of phone calls and ostensibly concerning the machinations of the largest concrete pour in history become so engaging and immersive. As the titular figure and only on-screen presence, Ivan Locke (Tom Hardy) is the lynchpin in the spoken drama. He leaves work one evening, but rather than head for a home that boasts a wife (Ruth Wilson) and two sons (Tom Holland and Bill Miner) waiting to watch a soccer match with him, or even for a good night's rest before the important day that awaits, the building site foreman drives away from his usual responsibilities. Conversations crystalise the details, sentiments escalating as he informs all those relying upon his dependable nature of the departure from his duties as an employee, husband and father. Increasingly upset altercations with a co-worker (Olivia Colman) in hospital are revelatory, as Locke faces the repercussions of an ill-thought-out act from his past. Of course, the central conceit of a single protagonist within a lone location is far from new; however, Knight does more than merely follow a formula. Avoiding easy comparisons with the likes of classics Lifeboat, Rope and Rear Window and recent thrillers Cube, Phone Booth and Buried, the filmmaker explores a situation marked by its modesty rather than its gimmick. The stakes are far from life and death, the crux of the story is akin to those seen in a soap opera, but tension radiates from the mundane and relatable. What results is the juxtaposition of several layers of confinement: physically, in a car careening towards London; emotionally, amid the reactions of all immersed in the mess; morally, in doing the right thing in the wrong circumstances Accordingly, Locke succeeds via the astute intersection of terse scripting, inventive filming and an exceptional performance. Knight's war of words never falls victim to complacency, every exchange adding to the pile of punishing problems and pulsating pressure. Cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos's (Thor) slick gaze offers a shiny veneer peppered with imperfections, creating imagery that matches the film's thematic thrust. But it is Hardy, Welsh-accented and stone-faced, that makes the scenario leap from the screen as he simmers under the strain of his character's choices. The feature's greatest achievement may stem from eliciting interest from its story, style and structure; however, it is its lead that sears its exploration of the inescapable inexplicably into memory. https://youtube.com/watch?v=HxLPXMEYGeI
This article is sponsored by our partners, Rekorderlig. The words 'Full Moon Party' might usually bring to mind sandy, sunburnt backpackers in their tens of thousands lost in a cocktail-bucket-fuelled dance frenzy on some remote Thai island, but Thredbo's reclaiming their wintry potential on Australian soil. On three separate occasions this ski season, the Thredbo Alpine Hotel's Keller Bar is being transformed into a black-lit, werewolf-ridden dance cave, where you're pretty much invisible unless you've donned your white or fluorescent best. Just in case you're the forgetful type, you'll be presented with face paint and glow sticks as you walk through the door — free of charge (as is entry). For a beautifully Swedish start your night, arrive at the firepit-lined courtyard nice and early. The tunes start at 3pm and the Rekorderlig Hot Pool will be steaming (bonus: delicious mulled Winter Cider will be steaming too). The first part in the three-act series took part on July 12, with sets from SOSUEME DJs and Purple Sneakers, but the good news is, you've still two more opportunities to get in on the action. On August 10, you'll catch the Crooked Colour DJs, who were recently shortlisted in the Stoney Roads Producer of the Year Awards, and the I Oh You DJs. Then, on September 9, you'll be hearing from The L D R U, fresh from their crowd-wowing Splendour appearance, and Leah Mencel, 2012 winner of EMI's She Can DJ Comp.
MTC's latest work, The Sublime is an exploration of sport, sex, violence and the media from award-winning screenwriter and actor Brendan Cowell. The performance will consist of three interwoven monologues of an NRL player, a brother who has defected to AFL, and a teenage girl. Each character will tell their sides of the story, and in doing so all have the opportunity to be seen as human beings, and even victims, underneath their athletic persona. When questionable events arise from a footy trip to Thailand between the NRL star Liam and young athlete Amber, older brother Dean desperately tries to clean up the mess. They are the only three who knows what actually happened, and the story is not as straightforward as what most sports news headlines often suggest. Cowell's play will also explore the clashes between NRL and AFL, and the ongoing rivalry between Melbourne and Sydney with actors Josh McConville, Ben O’Toole and Anna Samson bringing the gripping and fiery story to life.
Old-growth forests in Victoria's Yarra Valley provide the breathtaking backdrop for an impressive new arthouse drama. The debut feature from award winning short form and music video director Kasimir Burgess, the fable-like Fell tells the interlocking stories of two devoted Australian fathers whose lives are rocked by unexpected tragedy. Clumsy plot mechanics as well as some freshman affectations count as marks against the movie early on. But Burgess hits his stride in the picture's magnificent second half, delivering a tense and thoughtful look at guilt, obsession and revenge. Fell begins after a young girl on a camping trip wanders fatally into the path of a semitrailer. The driver, a day-labouring lumberjack named Luke (Daniel Henshall), succumbs to panic and flees the scene, a mistake that eventually earns him a five year stint in prison and leaves his own unborn daughter Madeline without a dad. Meanwhile, the dead girl's father Thomas (ex-rugby league player Matthew Nable) retreats into the forest, where his all-consuming grief slowly festers into a plan for revenge. Emerging under an alias, he takes a job with Luke's old logging crew. And then, for five long years, he waits. As much as there is to like about Fell, the set-up leaves a lot to be desired. Nable's performance is brimming with palpable anguish, yet you can't help but feel as though there are a couple of major steps missing in his descent into cabin-dwelling seclusion. Natasha Pincus' screenplay is intentionally light on dialogue, and does little to sell such an extreme transformation. The same is true of Thomas' decision to join up with the loggers, a fairly integral plot point that never really manages to convince. But the movie improves dramatically with Luke's release from prison. After convincing his old boss to let him have his job back, Luke finds himself working closely with Thomas, of whose true identity he remains totally unaware. There's an incredible tension to every scene in which the two are alone together, with the sense that every breath Luke takes could very well be his last. Yet as Thomas becomes an increasingly bigger part of Luke's life, he's forced to confront the reality of what taking the man's life would mean. The ambiguous atmosphere is heightened by the beautiful locale. Lush green foliage and thick clouds of mist give the film an almost dreamlike quality which is then further enhanced by moments of imagined violence. An indulgence in empty nature shots suggests that Burgess, like a lot of first-time directors, is a little too enamoured with the work of Terrence Malick. Even so, it's hard to deny the extent of talent on display.
After two bumper years and three singles, Melbourne foursome Kingswood decided to go all out when it came to their debut full-length album, Microscopic Wars. So they made an appointment at Blackbird Studios with Grammy-winning producer Vance Powell (The Raconteurs) and jumped on a plane to the US. Before heading into the studio, they spent three months living and working together in Nashville; then spent the rest recording whatever they damn well felt like on the day. With the album set for release on August 22 via Dew Process, single 'Sucker Punch' has already been attracting many a rock-loving ear — and tickets for Kingswood's national tour (running August 20 to October 24) are selling like hotcakes as a result. Their sizeable Aussie following has been built up through an array of festival appearances and support slots — Splendour in the Grass billed them on the main amphitheatre stage and they've toured with the likes of The Living End, British India and The Saints. https://youtube.com/watch?v=lHjnOlQQ49U
From that hotbed of contentious global politics comes the latest national film festival on the Australian cultural calendar. Hosted in various Palace Cinema locations around the country, the AICE Israeli Film Festival aims to showcase the best of the Israeli film industry, with more than a dozen features and documentaries to choose from. An initiative of the Australia Israel Cultural Exchange, the festival was the subject of controversy last year after abruptly cancelling screenings of a film that depicted Israeli brutality in the West Bank. The 2014 line-up contains several pictures that explore Israeli-Palestinian relations, including the critically acclaimed opening night film Self Made and the Israeli-Palestine-US co-production Under the Same Sun. Other highlights on the program include moving doco Shadow in Baghdad and a pair Cannes selected dramas in Next to Her and The Kindergarten Teacher. The festival is also hosting early previews of upcoming American films by noteworthy Jewish directors, in the form of Woody Allen's Magic in the Moonlight and Zach Braff's Wish I Was Here. For the full AICE Israeli Film Festival program, visit the festival website. Image: Next to Her.
After taking home awards at the Edinburgh and Adelaide Fringe Festivals, Cat Jones' relentless play Glory Dazed, about the long-term psychological effects of warfare, will enjoy a month-long engagement at the Red Stitch Actors Theatre. Fuelled by a series of interviews the playwright conducted with former British servicemen now serving time in person, the show combines harrowing drama with moments of acerbic black comedy, following an unstable veteran — played here Andre de Vanny — as he forces his way into a pub in an attempt to win back his ex-wife. The Red Stitch production is directed by company regular Greg Carroll, and represents the theatre's second consecutive show to explore the theme of post-war trauma, after George Brant's Grounded scored rave reviews last month. Early impressions suggest the reaction to Jones's work may be similarly strong.
At the risk of pointing out the perpetually obvious, Australians love their sport. We love our rugby, AFL, tennis, cricket... basically anything that involves sweating profusely and chasing after something. We're a sporting nayshun and it's an important part of our national identity whether we like it or not. With so many poetic, victorious moments in sporting activity, there's plenty of opportunity for artful glorification. Celebrating these fleeting snapshots is an exhibition for those craving to see Australia's sports culture celebrated in art. The biennial Basil Sellers Art Prize honours the presence of sport in contemporary Australian art and is regarded as one of Australia's most prestigious art competitions. This year, the winner will receive a whopping $100,00 prize for their work — and the shortlisted pieces are looking pretty strong. Artists up for the top prize include some of Australia's most celebrated talent: Tony Albert, Narelle Autio, Zoe Croggon, Gabrielle de Vietri, Ivan Durrant, Shaun Gladwell, Richard Lewer, William Mackinnon, Rob McHaffie, Noel McKenna, Rob McLeish, Fiona McMonagle, Raquel Ormella, Khaled Sabsabi, Jenny Watson and Gerry Wedd. There's also a People's Choice award of $5000, so you can make your visit really count by having a cheeky vote. To check out the competition before the winner is announced on July 25, head to The Ian Potter Museum of Art at the University of Melbourne ASAP. Otherwise the exhibition is open until October to peruse in your own bench time.
If you haven't dined on traditional Russian fare (and would like to), head to Elsternwick stat. Although Melbourne may have its fair share of European cuisine, good, authentic Russian food is hard to come by; except for Nevsky Russian Restaurant on busy Glen Huntly Road, that is. Named after the main boulevard in St Petersberg, Nevsky is unassuming, with exposed brick walls, simple timber furnishing and a chandelier that is out of place, yes, but somehow adds to the charm of this place. But boy, does it serve up some tasty, traditional and home-style Russian and Eastern European cooking. If in a large group, there's plenty of Russian banquets to choose from, all of which come with a free shot of vodka. Sample red caviar with blinis, king prawns and oysters; beetroot salad with herring; cabbage piroshki; and veal and mushroom stroganoff. Otherwise opt for the a la carte menu, featuring seliodka (marinated herring fillets) with potatoes ($8); Georgian kharcho soup of spicy lamb, tomato, rice and coriander (half serve $6; full serve $10); and heartier meals of ragu ($27), oven roasted pork loin with red cabbage, potatoes and red wine sauce ($28) and Polish sosiski (kranksy sausages) on mashed potato with caramelised onions and port wine sauce ($24). Plus, there's a whole load of dumplings and deep fried pastries, if you're after a snack. Drinkwise, the name of the game here is vodka, naturally. However, there's a small selection of beers, wines and cocktails (all vodka-based) available also.
More than most games, Dungeons & Dragons thrives or dies based on the people rolling the dice, creating their own characters and casting spells. Whether Stranger Things' demogorgon-slaying teens are hunched over a table imagining up their fantasy dreams, or flesh-and-blood folks who aren't just part of a TV series find themselves pretending that they're fighters and clerics, an adventure or campaign is only as good as the party at its core. Writer/directors Jonathan Goldstein and John Francis Daley understand this. The latter definitely should: the one-season TV great Freaks and Geeks, which gave him his start as an actor when he was just a kid, threw D&D some love, too. As filmmakers, Goldstein and Daley jump from Game Night to Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves with a clear mission: making the swords-and-sorcery flick's cast its biggest strength. This game-to-screen flick sports a stacked roster, starting with Chris Pine (Don't Worry Darling) as Edgin Darvis, a bard and former member of the Harpers who turned petty thief — complete with a Robin Hood-esque attitude — after his wife passed away. Since his daughter Kira (Chloe Coleman, Avatar: The Way of Water) was a baby, he's been co-parenting with his gruff best friend Holga Kilgore, a stoic exiled barbarian, who is played with exactly the stern look that Michelle Rodriguez (Fast & Furious 9) was always going to bring to the part. When Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves opens, however, Edgin and Holga have been in prison for almost two years thanks to a job gone wrong. Brought out of their dank dungeon to plead for their release, Edgin and Holga are determined to get free by any means necessary. And, once they're out, they're equally as committed to reuniting their makeshift family. Yes, a dungeon is indeed sighted within seconds of the film starting. Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves doesn't skimp on dragons when it's their turn to arrive, either. But there's more cast members to bring into the fray — and, handily, Edgin and Holga had a whole gang back in their escapade-heavy days. Rogue and con artist Forge Fitzwilliam (Hugh Grant, Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre) was one such party member. Simon Aumar (Justice Smith, Sharper), a sorcerer with hefty confidence issues, was another. These days, Forge has turned nefarious, seized guardianship of Kira, become Lord of Neverwinter, and gotten far too friendly with the fierce, fearsome and necromancy-loving Red Wizard of Thay Sofina (Daisy Head, Wrong Turn). Simon is still trying his magical luck, which is quickly needed, alongside help from tiefling druid Doric (Sophie Lillis, IT and IT: Chapter Two) and paladin Xenk Yendar (Regé-Jean Page, The Gray Man). As Dungeon Masters — co-scripting with Michael Gilio (Jolene), and working with a story by him and The Lego Batman Movie's Chris McKay — Goldstein and Daley thrust their various figures together, then shape a story around them. So, it's all classic D&D, just on-screen with copious amounts of special effects (some overdone in the usual CGI-dripping fantasy blockbuster fashion, some pleasingly looking more tangible, such as reanimated corpses voiced by Aunty Donna Down Under) rather than sitting around a board. Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves' tale couldn't be more straightforward, or fittingly episodic — with actions to complete, skills called upon and combat unleashed. There's no 20-sided die, but there is said bard and barbarian, and the sorcerer, druid and paladin with them, battling a rogue and wizard. And, straight out of the Monster Manual, owlbears, displacer beasts, red dragons and gelatinous cubes all make an appearance. Whether they first had everyone moving miniatures or mashing buttons, games are having a heap of big- and small-screen moments in 2023. The Last of Us is one of the year's very best new TV shows, a film about getting Tetris out of Russia and to the masses makes for a tense and entertaining streaming thriller, and The Super Mario Bros Movie gives the Nintendo favourite the animated treatment. A question lingers over all of them, though, and for fans and newcomers alike: would it be more engaging, and more fun, just to play? Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves answers by giving the act of watching the feel of playing regardless of whether you're a level zero or level 20 with its mythology — in its light, jovial and energetic tone, with the film taking itself earnestly but never grimly seriously; and in no small part thanks to its array of faces. Stranger Things has been helping broaden D&D's influence for nearing a decade now, but everything from E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, Futurama and Community to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The IT Crowd and Gravity Falls have nodded its way, too — and Goldstein and Daley also understand this. Their take on the game is welcomely accessible, while appropriately loving and still packed with nudges and references. That said, it's also padded and repetitive the more that it goes goes on. And Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves does go on, clocking in at 134 minutes. Some lengthy films make the time fly by — see: John Wick: Chapter 4, which could've lasted forever — but this one doesn't quite realise when a good time becomes an overly formulaic one. The fights and confrontations, the quips and character beats, the beasts and underground cells: after a while, a fantasy-101 feeling sinks in, especially in these days of ample worshipping thrown Game of Thrones, Lord of the Rings, The Witcher and company's ways. Mostly, Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves is enough of a romp — a romp with clear franchise-starting ambitions, even though there's already been three D&D movies dating back to 2000, but a romp nonetheless. Take out Pine and his on-screen pals, though, and it would've been all over the map. His charm is breezy, and his rapport with Rodriguez gives the film a likeable chalk-and-cheese duo. Page is as smooth as ever — yes, Bridgerton-level smooth — and Grant is visibly having a blast of a time getting villainous Paddington 2-style. Head, daughter of Buffy and Ted Lasso's Anthony Stewart Head, frequently shows up the pixel wizardry with just her glare and makeup. Yes, Dungeons & Dragons is all about the folks playing both on- and off-screen, and Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves' bunch makes viewers want to play along with them.
In the bar and nightlife world, clocking up a huge 17 years of life slinging beers, tunes and good times is no mean feat. So it's only fitting that shipping container haunt Section 8 celebrates that big milestone this week with some super-sized festivities. The beloved laneway bar is going all out and throwing a huge three-day birthday fiesta, kicking off this Friday, March 17. It's set to be a truly Melbourne affair, complete with a jam-packed program of tunes from more than 15 artists, hailing from near and far. A diverse array of sounds comes courtesy of acts like French producer GUTS, Melbourne-based Tokyo-born star Elle Shimada, and Afrocentric DJ and radio host NayNay, along with the likes of Mothafunk, Plastiq, Pookie, Crybaby, Shelley and more. And there'll be moves aplenty, too, with dance performances from Senuri & Romaine, and Ate Cheska. Rounding out the fun and keeping you fuelled for all that dance floor action, the bar will be pouring a stack of birthday drink specials from favourites like Beefeater, Jameson and Melbourne's own Hop Nation. The tunes will be rolling right through the weekend and entry will be free, so drop by any time. Images: Leilani Bale
One of South Melbourne's iconic food celebrations is back for a lip-smacking weekend of music and molluscs, as the Port Phillip Mussel & Jazz Festival returns to the South Melbourne Market from Saturday, March 11–Sunday, March 12. Once again, the precinct will come alive for a food-focused, tune-filled street party from 11am each day, with the humble mussel as star of the show. Seafood lovers will find themselves in heaven, feasting their way through a host of special dishes from resident vendors including Bambu, Claypots Evening Star, Simply Spanish, Gem Pier Seafood and (of course) Mike's Mussels. Plus, catch all the usual market favourites slinging everything from pastries and porchetta rolls to fine cheese and gelato. What's more, casual eatery Smithburg will also be debuting its new streetside Lobster Roll & Margarita Shack, where you'll find three different margs and a trio of signature lobster rolls on offer. The market has once again teamed up with The Nature Conservancy to deliver the Shuck Don't Chuck recycling program — leftover mussel, oyster and scallop shells from the weekend's feasting will be collected, cured and reused to help rebuild marine ecosystems in the bay. As always, there'll also be plenty of fresh catches when it comes to the entertainment — enjoy soul and jazz tunes from acts like The Sugarfoot Ramblers, Margie Lou Dyer, The Swinging Cats Pyjamas, Hoodoo Mayhem and Steve Sedergreen. Top image: Simon Shiff.
For one night this March, an iconic movie will serve up a glorious blast from the past in a whole new way. That's what Not-So-Silent Cinema is all about. A collaboration between ACMI and Federation Square — and screening at the latter, too — this outdoor event showcases iconic silent films for free under the stars, complete playing with live soundtracks. And it's back for the Labour Day long weekend. Silent cinema didn't mean ditching all sound completely a century back, after all, and it definitely doesn't now. So, while you sit in a deckchair and peer at Fed Square's big screen on Sunday, March 12 from 7.30pm, you'll be listening to something ace as you watch. The film in the spotlight: Indian silent film Muraliwala from 1927, with Hari Sivanesan and the South Asian Music Ensemble providing the tunes. Sure, you've seen plenty of movies, and spent plenty of time in Fed Square — but this free evening is far more than your usual trip to the pictures. Images: Tobias Tltz.
They don't call it movie magic for nothing, as plenty of Hollywood's leading lights have made it their mission to stress. A filmmaker's work should ideally make that statement anyway — seeing any picture and taking any trip to the pictures should, not that either always occurs — but overt odes to cinema still flicker with frequency. Across little more than 12 months, Kenneth Branagh's Belfast has featured a scene where his on-screen childhood alter ego basks in the silver screen's glow, and Damien Chazelle's Babylon made celebrating Hollywood and everything behind it one of its main functions. With The Fabelmans, Steven Spielberg revisited his formative years, following the makings of a movie-obsessed kid who'd become a movie-making titan. Now 1917, Skyfall, Spectre and American Beauty director Sam Mendes adds his own take with Empire of Light, as also steeped in his own youth. A teenager in the 70s and 80s, Mendes now jumps back to 1980 and 1981. His physical destination: the coastal town of Margate in Kent, where the Dreamland Cinema has stood for exactly 100 years in 2023. In Empire of Light, the gorgeous art deco structure has been rechristened The Empire. It's a place where celluloid dreams such as The Blues Brothers, Stir Crazy, Raging Bull and Being There entertain the masses, and where a small staff under the overbearing Donald Ellis (Colin Firth, Operation Mincemeat) all have different relationships with their own hopes and wishes. As projectionist Norman, Toby Jones (The Wonder) is Mendes' mouthpiece, waxing lyrical about the transporting effect of images running at 24 frames per second and treasuring his work sharing that experience. Empire of Light is that heavy handed, and in a multitude of ways. But duty manager Hilary (Olivia Colman, Heartstopper) and new employee Stephen's (Micheal Ward, Small Axe) stories are thankfully far more complicated than simply adoring cinema. Actually, despite spending her days slinging £1.50 tickets and popcorn, Hilary has never seen a movie at The Empire. That might seem unlikely, but it's a crucial and thoughtful character detail. Navigating a journey with her mental health, her conscientiousness at work helps her to keep busy away from her lonely apartment. Having spent a lifetime thinking little of herself, she doesn't for a moment contemplate enjoying what her workplace sells (the fact that it's where she's being taken advantage of sexually by Donald also leeches joy from her view of the place). Accordingly, she has a stronger affinity for the venue's empty third and fourth screens, both of which have been shuttered — plus the upstairs bar that services them — and allowed to fall into pigeon-filled disrepair. When Empire of Light begins, Hilary has recently returned from a hospital stint, too, and the lithium her doctor has prescribed since is stifling. Watching someone go through the motions in a place that's all about motion, possibility, and shiny visions of other lives and realms paints a powerful portrait, with Mendes — who writes his first-ever solo feature script in addition to directing — crafting a keen character study layered with symbolism. Welcomely, when Stephen arrives to break up The Empire's routine, he's never merely a catalyst in another's tale or an emblem of Britain's struggles with race. Empire of Light takes the time to chart his path as well, including the discrimination he faces walking down the street; his devotion to his single mum, Trinidadian nurse Delia (Tanya Moodie, The Man Who Fell to Earth); and his growing romance with Hilary. Stephen's story is a coming-of-age story, all about finding himself in and through a space where audiences flock to find everything imaginable. So too is Hilary's, of course. That said, it's easy to see how Stephen could've just been a device, helping to keep the plot turning and Hilary's tale progressing, if someone other than Ward had taken on the part. His is a rich, sincere and soulful performance, playing a young Black man with the clearest of eyes as he surveys a hostile Thatcher-era England, yet remaining kind and caring — to people and injured birds alike — and perennially optimistic. Holding one's own against Colman is no mean feat; this film's own light largely beams from the pair. Whether they're sharing a frame or taking centre stage alone, they're always a key force drawing viewers in, no matter how forceful Mendes is with his cinema-conquers-all message (and how adamantly the score by Bones and All's Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross is telling the audience what to feel). What a stunning portrayal Colman delivers beside Ward; Hilary was written specifically for her, unsurprisingly, and plays that way at all times. Saying that the Oscar- and Emmy-winner — for The Favourite and The Crown, respectively — is phenomenal in any role is like saying that popcorn is salty, but it doesn't make it any less true (as her recent work in Landscapers, The Lost Daughter and The Father also demonstrates). Deep-seated sorrow and heartbreak lingers in Hilary in Empire of Light, and not just because the screenplay says it must. The talented actor is a marvel at not only opening up a character's inner tussles and emotions in her gaze and stance, but making them feel hauntingly real, which Mendes makes exceptional use of. It's no wonder that the movie peers at her face often — a face that makes its own case for movie magic whether it's staring intently at Hilary's latest cinema task, revelling in Stephen's company or breaking down at The Empire's big moment: the glitzy regional premiere of Chariots of Fire. Alongside Colman and Ward, the man responsible for Empire of Light's gaze — and lighting it — is the feature's other immense and essential asset. Just like the film's two key actors, Roger Deakins' impact is so pivotal that this'd be a completely different movie sans his input. Earning the picture's only Academy Award nomination — his 16th, fresh from consecutive wins for Blade Runner 2049 and 1917 — he ensures that every shot speaks volumes about The Empire and the people who consider it a type of home. Sometimes, he achieves that by mirroring the big screen's frame, finding other frames to place around the picture's characters where possible, and stressing that everyone's tale is worth telling. Sometimes, too, he actively seeks out reflections, nodding to how cinema interacts with the world around it while also literally showing multiple sides of a character at once. That's movie magic alright, and Empire of Light is at its best when it lets its craft demonstrate cinema's glory itself.
The newly expanded Carlton Farmers Market is reopening for 2023, kicking off on March 4 with an inaugural Saturday session featuring family-friendly activities and new stallholders. Marketgoers can expect 20 market stalls boasting fresh Victorian produce, locally-made products, coffee, pastries and snacks. Market lovers still reeling from the shock loss of the Abbotsford Farmers Market can also rejoice at this news: many of the Abbotsford stallholder favourites will make The Carlton Farmers Market their new home. The Carlton Farmers Markets were paused at the end of last year, in order to rejig and revamp the long-standing community event. The markets are $2 to enter but all funds go towards donations for MFM and Carlton North Primary School. Pooches and kids are welcome.
Bodriggy's Abbotsford brewpub is as renowned for its Latin American-inspired food menu as it is for its froths. But on Thursday, March 30, Head Chef Johnny Dominguez (Vue de Monde, Dinner by Heston Blumenthal) is giving those signature flavours a local makeover for a one-off Melbourne Food & Wine Festival feast. He'll be plating up a Latin-leaning menu filled with native ingredients, focusing on local produce that's sustainably sourced from places like Collingwood Children's Farm and Outback Chef Wild Food Farm. He and his team will even be getting out and doing some foraging themselves. [caption id="attachment_894082" align="alignnone" width="1920"] By Carmen Zammit[/caption] You're in for dishes like heirloom tomato tostadas finished with a native salsa, Victorian kingfish ceviche done with finger lime and Davidson plum, and a main of pork belly mole starring elements like saltbush, macadamia and Vegemite. What's more, Bodriggy is creating a special brew to be showcased on the night, infused with a bunch of local flora. There are three sittings to choose from (6pm, 7pm, 8pm), with the banquet coming in at $91. Drinks are available to purchase separately, or you can opt for the $120 ticket and enjoy a curation of matched sips with your feed. [caption id="attachment_735957" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Kate Shanasy[/caption] Top image: Carmen Zammit
There's no need to try to understand it: John Farnham's 1986 anthem 'You're the Voice' is an instant barnstormer of a tune. An earworm then, now and for eternity, it was the Australian song of the 80s. With its layered beats, swelling force and rousing emotion, all recorded in a garage studio, it's as much of a delight when it's soundtracking comedy films like the Andy Samberg-starring Hot Rod and the Steve Coogan-led Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa as it is echoing out of every Aussie pub's jukebox. Making a noise and making it clear, 'You're the Voice' is also one of the reasons that Farnham's 1986 album Whispering Jack remains the best-selling homegrown release ever nearing four decades since it first dropped. But, as John Farnham: Finding the Voice tells, this iconic match of track and talent — this career-catapulting hit for a singer who'd initially tasted fame as a teen pop idol two decades prior — almost didn't happen. Whispering Jack also almost didn't come to fruition at all, a revelation so immense that imagining Australia without that album is like entering Back to the Future Part II's alternative 80s. Writer/director Poppy Stockwell (Scrum, Nepal Quake: Terror on Everest) and her co-scribe Paul Clarke (a co-creator of Spicks and Specks) know this, smartly dedicating a significant portion of Finding the Voice to that record and its first single. The titbits and behind-the-scenes anecdotes flow, giving context to a song almost every Aussie alive since it arrived knows in their bones. Gaynor Wheatley, the wife of Farnham's late best friend and manager Glenn, talks about how they mortgaged their house to fund the release when no label would touch the former 'Sadie (The Cleaning Lady)' crooner. Chris Thompson, the English-born, New Zealand-raised Manfred Mann's Earth Band musician who co-penned 'You're the Voice', chats about initially declining Farnham's request to turn the tune into a single after the latter fell for it via a demo. A whole documentary about 'You're the Voice' might've been indulgent even for the biggest Farnham fans — a short doco about its role in the aforementioned Hot Rod needs to be made ASAP, however — but that's not Finding the Voice from start to finish. Stockwell and Clarke take the birth-to-now approach, although they're really building towards Farnham finding that smash, and exploring why it was such a jolt of lightning for the musician's life and legacy. With editors Scott Gray (Mortal Kombat) and Steven Robinson (The Endangered Generation?) stitching together a wealth of archival material, the journey begins in earnest with the plumber's apprentice with the impressive pipes, the novelty track he was never all that fond of, and the immediate success and screaming girls that followed. Pop music history is littered with teenage sensations who didn't enjoy more than one hit song or two, which might've been Farnham's fate; through several pivots and comeback attempts, it did indeed appear his destiny. Finding the Voice doesn't take the pressure down, or avoid the lows before the highs: the singles that charted but couldn't shake the 'Sadie' vibes, the mismanagement before Wheatley, the RSL gigs with bandmates who couldn't play, the lack of interest in the UK and the frequent rejection at home. It doesn't avoid the frustrations before 'You're the Voice' and Whispering Jack gave Farnham more than a touch of music stardom paradise, either, or the yearning to be something other than 'The Cleaning Lady' guy. The film weaves in the then-Johnny's time doing stage musicals, including 1971's Charlie Girl, which started his romance with dancer and his now wife-of-five-decades Jill. It steps through his Little River Band era, and the passion and statement of intent resonating in their Farnham-sparked tune 'Playing to Win'. In addition to its ode to its namesake, Finding the Voice was always going to double as a trip through Aussie rock history as well as a homage to former The Masters Apprentices bassist Glenn Wheatley, who died in 2022 due to COVID-19 complications ‚ and it's a balancing act that's handled expertly. Many a music biodoc has mined untold treasures from bygone footage and the shared memories that go with them, a format that Finding the Voice doesn't challenge. The unearthed clips also survey a glorious range of hairstyles — the famous golden flowing 80s mullet is merely one, the five-time TV Week King of Pop era gifting others — while context comes via family, friends, colleagues and admirers offering their thoughts and recollections. After Glenn's passing, Gaynor proves a key source, also illuminating her role in both Farnham and her husband's careers. Jill Farnham and sons Robert and James assist with fleshing out the man behind the mane and music, with Farnham's children noting how sheltered they were from his tough times. And singing his praises? Jimmy Barnes and Daryl Braithwaite, neither voicing any envy — yes, this is briefly a Farnsy-and-Barnsey flick — plus everyone from Celine Dion and Robbie Williams to Richard Marx and Olivia Newton-John. The one that Farnham always wanted professionally — and wanted to emulate the Grease star's overseas triumphs — Newton-John joins Finding the Voice's chorus via voiceover only. Given her death in 2022 as well, the documentary is also a tribute her way without stealing the spotlight from its main figure. With Farnham's own recent health battles with cancer and a respiratory infection well-documented, he too is only heard recently and seen via materials from across his career. That might've left a gaping hole at the movie's middle, but Stockwell ensures that it never feels like a lost opportunity. Cannily, not pointing the camera the 'Age of Reason', 'Two Strong Hearts', 'Chain Reaction' and 'Burn for You' singer's way helps the filmmaker be judicious with her talking-head interviews, and find freedom beyond merely making a hagiography or a glossily authorised bio. It also reinforces two core contrasts: that great music is eternal, but even superstars are only flesh and blood; and that the tunes that last seem like easy hits, but so often spring from a lifetime of hard work. Accompanying the blast-from-the-past visuals, the adoring-but-never-fawning discussions and the exhaustive then-till-now chronicle is the expected stacked roster of Farnsy hits. Finding the Voice was never going to sit in silence, and nor has anyone who has ever heard 'You're the Voice'. Among its astute choices, the film also veers into concert footage — and seeing the power ballad performed by a leather pants-clad, sleeveless tank-wearing, unmistakably sweaty Farnham in pre-unification West Germany, one of the two countries beyond Australia where it reached number one on the charts (the other: Sweden), is a pure seeing-is-feeling moment. How long can we appreciate this Aussie icon? Always, as long as we're all someone's daughters and sons, as the triumphant and insightful Finding the Voice understands.
Making his latest body-horror spectacle an eat-the-rich sci-fi satire as well, Brandon Cronenberg couldn't have given Infinity Pool a better title. Teardowns of the wealthy and entitled now seem to flow on forever, glistening endlessly against the film and television horizon; however, the characters in this particularly savage addition to the genre might wish they were in The White Lotus or Succession instead. In those two hits, having more money than sense doesn't mean witnessing your own bloody execution but still living to tell the tale. It doesn't see anyone caught up in cloning at its most vicious and macabre, either. And, it doesn't involve dipping into a purgatory that sports the Antiviral and Possessor filmmaker's penchant for futuristic corporeal terrors, as clearly influenced by his father David Cronenberg (see: Crimes of the Future, Videodrome and The Fly), while also creating a surreal hellscape that'd do Twin Peaks great David Lynch, Climax's Gaspar Noe and The Neon Demon's Nicolas Winding Refn proud. Succession veteran Alexander Skarsgård plunges into Infinity Pool's torments playing another member of the one percent, this time solely by marriage. "Where are we?", author James Foster asks his wife Em (Cleopatra Coleman, Dopesick) while surveying the gleaming surfaces, palatial villas and scenic beaches on the fictional island nation of Li Tolqa — a question that keeps silently pulsating throughout the movie, and also comes tinged with the reality that James once knew a life far more routine than this cashed-up extravagance. Cronenberg lets his query linger from the get-go, with help from returning Possessor cinematographer Karim Hussain. Within minutes, the feature visually inverts its stroll through its lavish setting, the camera circling and lurching. As rafters spin into view, then tumble into the pristine sky, no one in this film's frames is in Kansas anymore. The couple's temporary home away from home boasts luxury extending as far as the eye can see, but affluent holidaymakers are fenced in by barbed wire and armed guards from the surrounding country. They're deep-pocketed westerners in an exclusive resort haven in an otherwise poor, religious and conservative country, and local protesters aren't afraid to interrupt their paid-for idyll. Still, James and Em are vacationing to hopefully cure his six-year stint of writer's block, after he's struggled to back up his debut novel The Variable Sheath — and that text, which was published thanks to Em's media-tycoon father, struggled to make a literary impact at all. Amid their languid stay, and as Em can barely tell if James is awake or asleep, neither are expecting fellow guest Gabi (Mia Goth, Pearl) to gush praise; "I loved your book," the outgoing stranger and actor tells him, then invites them to dinner with her husband Alban (Jalil Lespert, Beasts), then for an illicit drive and picnic beyond the gates the following day. An unsettling sensation hangs in the air as Gabi pushes her new pals to share her company, relishes being the centre of attention and steals an explicit moment with James on their forbidden jaunt. Writing as well as directing, Cronenberg mists uncertainty and menace in the air earlier, when the hotel hosts a festival celebrating the upcoming monsoon season — an event where masks resembling melted faces are a key costume choice. There's feeling unconvinced about another traveller, hesitant about diving into uncharted waters and anxious about breaking the rules in a foreign land, though, and then there's the ordeal that soon springs from a tragic accident, arrest, death sentence and wild get-out-of-jail-free situation. In Li Tolqa's criminal justice system, the well-to-do can pay to have doubles created to face their punishments. The two caveats: these doppelgängers will have the same memories and their originals must watch their grisly end. "Where are we?" isn't the only line of enquiry splashing through Infinity Pool; "what would you do?", "what will people resort to for self-preservation?", "how cheap is someone else's life?", "why does death frighten us?" and "what happens when there's truly no consequences for anything?" rain down just as heavily. So does the obvious: in this scenario, how does anyone ever know if they're the OG version of themselves or the copy? Em is shaken and can't wait to leave, but the smirk that spreads slowly across James' face while he's witnessing his likeness' demise betrays his intrigue. The movie itself is curious, too — and it, like its audience, knows that humanity's worst impulses are about to pour out. Indeed, in kaleidoscopic and hypnotic sequences overflowing with sex, drugs and violence, as body parts intermingle and bodily fluids flow freely, and while unthinkable cruelty becomes a tourism experience for those who can afford it, the younger Cronenberg showers his film in a sometimes-psychedelic, often-gruesome onslaught of can't-look-away chaos. In pictures both brilliant and brutal — and literally filled with pictures earning the same description — the uncompromising Cronenberg keeps bleakly cosying up to futility. When famous flesh is not just the pinnacle of a society but consumed ravenously and incessantly, as seen in Antiviral, how can existence be meaningful? When bodies are hijacked to do someone else's bidding, as Possessor explored, that same query is inescapable. And when the powerful and privileged treat living and dying as a game dictated by their wallets, what about humanity matters? Getting terrifying with the blood and guts of being alive is clearly in Cronenberg's genes, but his specific mutation also repeatedly ponders existing as a meat market. He isn't subtle about his off-screen parallels, but he doesn't need to be; his ideas and imagery have proven visceral, piercing and haunting not once, not twice, but three glorious times now, including in this dread- and tension-dripping feature that brings a twisted mix of The Prestige, The Forgiven, Dual, Triangle of Sadness, Battle Royal and The Purge to mind. Skarsgård is no newcomer to on-screen mayhem, with 2022's The Northman instantly cementing itself as one of his best-ever performance and films. He's equally magnetic as an initially unwitting participant in Infinity Pool's feast of carnal and primal desires, and more than one iteration of James at that; surrendering with bewilderment to hedonistic madness suits him, as does playing awkward, unsure and tentative alongside that. Fresh from such stunning work in X and Pearl, and with that slasher trilogy's third effort MaXXXine on the way, Goth's casting is just as crucial. If Gabi wasn't as mysterious and seductive as she is ominous — so, if she wasn't an alluring but sinister femme fatale — the whole movie would threaten to wash away. And, if she couldn't flip from enticing to merciless so suddenly and seamlessly, Infinity Pool wouldn't be the entrancing nightmare about soulless sound, fury, sex, bodies, life and death signifying nothing that it so deeply and intoxicatingly is.
"He is the most accomplished man in Europe in riding, running, shooting, fencing, dancing, music." Writing in his diary in 1779 about Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges, American Founding Father and future second US President John Adams didn't hold back with his praise. But the world has barely taken his cue in the nearly two-and-a-half centuries since, letting the tale of this gifted French Creole violinist, conductor and composer slip from wider attention. Within a sumptuous period drama that's charmingly, confidently and commandingly led by Kelvin Harrison Jr — with the Waves, The High Note, The Trial of the Chicago 7 and Cyrano star full of mesmerising swagger, and also endlessly compelling as a talent forced to struggle as a person of colour in a white aristocratic world — Chevalier endeavours to redress this failing of history. Veteran television director Stephen Williams (Watchmen, Westworld, Lost) and screenwriter Stefani Robinson (Atlanta, What We Do in the Shadows) begin their Bologne biopic boldly, playfully and with a front-on confrontation of the "Black Mozart" label that's surrounded their subject when he has been remembered — even if they also commence Chevalier with likely fiction. In pre-revolution Paris in the late 18th century, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Joseph Prowen, Father Brown) has an enraptured crowd in his thrall as he both plays and conducts. He pauses, then prompts his audience for requests. The response comes as a surprise: Bologne striding down the aisle, asking if he too can pick up a violin, then getting duelling with the musical instrument against the acclaimed maestro. Williams and Robinson start their film with a statement, announcing that they're celebrating a life that's been left not only ignored and erased — especially in a realm that's so often considered old, stuffy and definitely not culturally diverse — but also been stuck lingering in someone else's shadow. Chevalier's opening scene is well-staged, instantly rousing and a clever kickoff that speaks volumes — also cheer-worthy, as its on-screen viewers heartily deem it — and, most crucially, it sets the tone for Bologne's continual battle. He won't go mano a mano with Mozart again, but he'll never stop fighting in various fashions. Being underestimated, undervalued and worse due to his race is sadly his life story, which Chevalier places front and centre. As 2013's Belle did in focusing on Dido Elizabeth Belle, the film makes plain the prejudices and politics of the era in a genre that too rarely genuinely interrogates either. The world of Bridgerton may now peer backwards with romantic fantasy and colourblind casting, but that isn't the same as stepping through the experiences of someone who should be far better known, and undoubtedly would be if not for the reaction to their heritage. When he's still a boy (debutant Reuben Anderson) being installed in the only boarding school that will take him, far away from the French colony of Guadeloupe that has always been his home, Joseph is told by his father (Jim High, Foundation) that he must always be excellent in order to be accepted. From that exchange onwards, Bologne chases greatness in all matters — with a foil in his hand, and both performing and writing music, most notably. But even as he impresses Marie Antoinette (Lucy Boynton, Barbie) as an adult, is bestowed the knightly chevalier title and gets a chance to compete to lead the Paris Opera, French society remains quick to drip scorn whenever he exceeds the parts that they'll let him play. Whatever heights he's allowed to reach, he's still viewed as the illegitimate son of white plantation owner and an enslaved Senegalese teen. Williams and Robinson unpack the complexities of Bologne's friendship with the queen, whose progressive ideals are pushed to the fore purely when she's confident in her popularity, and his, among the court. Over both of their futures, the French Revolution looms inescapably — although Chevalier stops before depicting Bologne's time leading an all-Black regiment. Instead, it hones in on two interconnected plot points: that attempt to obtain France's top music post and a romance. For the coveted job, he vies for glory against the snooty and dismissive Christoph Gluck (Henry Lloyd-Hughes, Marriage). In affairs of the heart, he falls for Marie-Joséphine de Comarieu (Samara Weaving, Scream VI), wife of the stern military figure Marquise de Montalembert (Marton Csokas, The Last Duel), after convincing her to sing in the opera that's meant to secure his dream gig. Chevalier repeatedly anchors Bologne's journey in a blatant truth, albeit one that he doesn't see: that the more entrenched he thinks he is within France's upper echelons, the more he's immersed in a discriminatory system that'll never truly welcome him. When his mother Nanon (Ronke Adékoluẹjo, Rain Dogs) re-enters his life, finally free after his father's death, she instantly spots what her son can't — "you are a tourist in their world," she advises — and he isn't thrilled. Whether Joseph is contentedly believing that he's close to carving out his niche or eventually angry at the grim reality, he's feverishly working or dashingly courting, or he's demonstrating his prowess with a rapier or a bow, Harrison Jr is consistently exceptional. He's excellent at conveying Bologne's certainty in his skills and worth, too, including when diva Marie-Madeleine Guimard (Minnie Driver, Starstruck) thinks that he'll bed her because she demands it, and at working through the fiery heartbreak when his society dream is broken. This biopic is an act of rectification. It's a dive into the forgotten past, sometimes taking liberties as it depicts its subject's pursuit of liberté, égalité, fraternité, with a clear purpose and point. The film benefits immensely from enlisting Harrison Jr as its lead. It also boasts fine performances by Adékoluẹjo, Boynton and Weaving, with the former playing plucky and proud, and the latter two each exploring the difficulties of your heart and mind being at odds with the role that you inhabit. Chevalier is gleefully happy to relish its genre's aesthetic and conventions as well, be it at lavish champagne-filled parties or behind opera's scenes, complete with sniping among the well-to-do. While it's the tale, reclamation and portrayals that shine brightest — even if detailing significant parts of Bologne's later story in the text-on-screen post-script is a curious move — reaching ample high notes comes easily.
What do you get when three of Australia's hottest Turkish restaurants join forces? One seriously good Sunday lunch. On July 16, the crew from Sydney's acclaimed Maydanoz are flying down to team up with Balaclava's Tulum and Lezzet of Elwood. Together, the three venues are hosting a curated five-course sharing menu crafted by renowned chefs Arman Uz, Kemal Barut, and Coskun Uysal. This exclusive Sunday Lunch will take place at Lezzet with limited seatings available to book from 12pm on Sunday, July 16. Tickets are $85 a pop (plus extra for drinks), seating is limited and it's expected to sell out fast. So if top-tier Turkish cuisine is your thing, don't hang about. It's unlikely there'll be another of these. Images: Supplied
Pick your poison, action-franchise edition circa 2023: balletically choreographed carnage; cars, kin and Coronas; or Tom Cruise constantly one-upping himself in the megastar stunts stakes. Hollywood loves them all. Cinemas keep welcoming them all. So, after John Wick: Chapter 4 and Fast X comes Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One to deliver the kind of movie spectacle that always looks best on the biggest and brightest of silver screens. And, as its lead actor's gleaming teeth do, the seventh instalment in the TV-to-film spy series shines. Like Cruise himself, it's committed to giving audiences what they want to see, but never merely exactly what they've already seen. This saga hasn't always chosen to accept that mission, but it's been having a better time of it since 2011's Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, including when writer/director Christopher McQuarrie jumped behind the lens with 2015's Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation. McQuarrie and Cruise have history; McQuarrie first helmed Cruise in 2012's Jack Reacher, and also penned or co-penned the screenplays for the Cruise-starring Valkyrie, Edge of Tomorrow, The Mummy and Top Gun: Maverick before and during their Mission: Impossible collaboration. Prior to that, however — the year before Mission: Impossible was reborn as a movie, in fact — the filmmaker won an Oscar for writing The Usual Suspects. Take the puzzle-like trickery of that mid-90s big-reveal mystery, combine it with Cruise's determination to score the first Academy Award for Best Stunts if and when it's ever introduced (or die trying), and it's plain to see why they make an ace Mission: Impossible pair. With both 2018's Mission: Impossible – Fallout and now Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One in particular, they ensure that a franchise based on a half-century-old formula courtesy of Mission: Impossible's television days still feels fresh and thrilling. Rubber masks so realistic that anyone on-screen could rip off their face to reveal Cruise's Ethan Hunt? Of course they're present and accounted for. Espionage antics that involve saving the world while traversing much of it? Tick that off ASAP. The saga's main Impossible Missions Force operative doing whatever it takes, including sprinting everywhere and relentlessly exasperating his higher-ups? Check. A trusty crew faithfully aiding the always-maverick Hunt, plus slippery adversaries to endeavour to outsmart? Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One gives them a hefty thumbs up as well. Shady forces with globe-destroying aims, being able to trust oh-so-few folks, wreaking slickly staged havoc, those jaw-dropping stunts, top-notch actors: Cruise and McQuarrie, the latter co-writing with Erik Jendresen (Ithaca), feel the need to feed it all into the flick, too. They're also rather fond of nodding to and reworking the franchise's greatest hits. Happily playing with recognisable pieces while eagerly, cleverly and satisfyingly building upon them isn't the easiest of skills, but it's firmly in this team's arsenal. When Mission: Impossible — Rogue Nation labelled Hunt "the living manifestation of destiny", it wasn't the series' finest piece of dialogue. There's a sense of humour about hearing him called "a mind-reading, shape-shifting incarnation of chaos" in Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One, though. That description could also be directed at Hunt, Luther Stickell (Ving Rhames, Legacy) and Benji Dunn's (Simon Pegg, The Boys) latest timely enemy: The Entity, an artificial intelligence that's literally killer. Unlike in The Terminator flicks, this AI is content without mechanical bodies to control. Whether in Russian submarines, Abu Dhabi's airport or on careening trains, it does a commanding job of bending both computer programs and people to its will. The aim: to secure that power, a quest that Hunt is on a mission to thwart. Returning from the OG 1996 movie, IMF head Eugene Kittridge (Henry Czerny, Scream VI) initially gives Hunt and company their orders — and once this troupe has been set in motion, little can stop it. So, when the crew punches its "get disavowed by the government again" card, they still stick to the task of tracking down the two-part key that The Entity wants. Terrorist Gabriel (Esai Morales, How to Get Away with Murder) and assassin Paris (Pom Klementieff, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3) are on the AI's side. Jasper Briggs (Shea Whigham, Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse) is among the US operatives trying to bring in Hunt. Back from the last instalment, arms dealer White Widow (Vanessa Kirby, The Son) has her own plan, while ex-MI6 agent Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson, Silo) appears in her third flick in a row to again link in with the usual team. Then there's pickpocket Grace (Hayley Atwell, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness), a newcomer who is accustomed to flying solo. Atwell and Klementieff are scene-stealing additions to the cast, and the always-great Ferguson has been a standout since Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation. Still, as has been teased, talked about and splashed across Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One's poster, Cruise is the one actually physically soaring. What would a Mission: Impossible movie be without flaunting its riskiest stunt, as performed by its stratospheric name himself, as audience bait? Not a McQuarrie-era chapter, that's for sure. When the scene arrives, getting Cruise riding a motorcycle off a towering cliff in an effort to land aboard the hurtling Orient Express, it is indeed breathtaking — and a gripping, nerve-shredding sight to behold. It isn't alone, though, thanks to a tense underwater opening, cat-and-mouse airport antics, Arabian desert horse chases, Fiat-driving Italian Job-style Rome romps and the high-stakes hijinks on Agatha Christie's favourite locomotive itself. Cinematographer Fraser Taggart (Robot Overlords) and editor Eddie Hamilton (back from the last two movies), plus the entire stunt team, help shoot, splice and execute these setpieces rivetingly. Repeatedly besting past Mission: Impossible action triumphs? Mission: accomplished. Twenty-seven years, notching up three pictures now with McQuarrie at the helm, and with Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part Two obviously on the way (arrival: June 2024), there's a well-oiled air to Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One. That said, to run so smoothly requires care, aka someone doing the oiling, which is why there's rarely a well-worn moment or element be seen. Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One covers some ground that John Wick: Chapter 4 and Fast X already have in 2023 (and Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny as well). It eagerly nods to its own past. And it knows that Cruise could just cruise-control his way through, as could his co-stars, if they wanted. Its biggest feat? Lifting everything that it does, and that a Mission: Impossible flick must, again and again so that seeming routine proves, yes, impossible. There's no self-destruction here — just devotion to an intense and entertaining action extravaganza.
Once a year, Monster Fest treats cinemagoers to a weird and wonderful film festival filled with genre and cult movies — but that's obviously not often enough. So, behold Monster Fest Weekender, aka the fest that the Monster team hosts midyear when it's not rolling out the full shindig. Hitting Melbourne's Cinema Nova from Friday, July 7–Sunday, July 9, this three-day affair has an added focus in 2023. Get ready to peer out of blue and red lenses, because every movie on the lineup is showing in 3D. No, none of them are Avatar. Yes, they're all horror flicks. As well as being the first time Monster Fest has focused on giving every title it's screening an extra dimension, it's also the first time that the event has solely programmed classics. The fun starts with a tenth-anniversary session of Texas Chainsaw 3D, which is playing Aussie cinemas for the first time. After that Amityville 3D celebrates its 40th anniversary, while the Vincent Price-starring House of Wax — the first colour 3D film from a major studio — notches up 70 years. Monster Fest Weekender's 3D lineup also includes Andy Warhol's Flesh for Frankenstein 3D, remake My Bloody Valentine 3D and direct-to-video 1984 effort Silent Madness 3D — the latter of which is similarly making its big-screen Australian debut.
As we begin to head out of the cold part of the year, we consider our options for the best spots to end the day photosynthesising with a schooner in hand. Good thing you've got a new option: a freshly opened rooftop space on top of The Hawthorn Hotel. Opening a rooftop space has long been a dream for The Hawthorn Hotel team, so the special occasion is being celebrated with Champions Evening. On Wednesday, August 28, from 5–7pm, you'll be able to enjoy the space with drinks, complimentary roaming finger food and a bit of friendly competition — thanks to the addition of giant Jenga and regular-size cornhole. And since the space is dedicated to sports fans (with its shiny new LED screen for live broadcast games and matches), a guest star will join the festivities: former Collingwood midfielder Dane Swan, who'll be meeting and greeting fans. Champions Evening will run at the Hawthorn Hotel rooftop on Wednesday, August 28 from 5–7pm. For more information and to book a table, visit the website.
There seems little that could be utopian about an alien invasion film where people are picked off by hulking, spider-limbed, lightning-fast, armour-clad creatures who punish every sound with almost-instant death, but prequel A Quiet Place: Day One makes the opening status quo of horror franchise-starter A Quiet Place look positively idyllic. If you're forced to try to survive an extra-terrestrial attack, where better to be than at your well-appointed farmland home with your family, as the John Krasinski (IF)-helmed and -starring 2018 feature depicted? Most folks, including the third movie in the saga's protagonist Samira (Lupita Nyong'o, Black Panther: Wakanda Forever), a terminal cancer patient with just a service cat called Frodo left as kin, can only dream of being that lucky — not that there's much time for fantasising about a better way to be conquered by otherworldly monsters when what looks like meteors start crashing down to earth. Samira is in hospice care as the A Quiet Place big-screen series, which also spans 2021 release A Quiet Place Part II, steps back to the moment that its apocalyptic scenario begins in New York. She hugs her black-and-white feline companion like letting go would untether her from life even before existence as the planet knows it changes forever — when she's sharing surly poems among other patients, being convinced to attend a group excursion to see a marionette show and, when the promise of pizza on the way home is nixed, telling kindly nurse Reuben (Alex Wolff, Oppenheimer) that he's not actually her friend. A Quiet Place: Day One explores the ground-zero experience for someone who feels so alone in this world and connected only to her devoted pet, and also answers a question: how do those on more than two feet react when the worst that humans can imagine occurs? It might've appeared a significant change of pace when Pig filmmaker Michael Sarnoski was announced as A Quiet Place: Day One's writer and director, a role he took on after The Bikeriders' Jeff Nichols — who, with Take Shelter, Mud and Midnight Special on his resume, had played with visions of the end of the world, science fiction and adventurous quests before — dropped out. But swap in Nyong'o for Nicolas Cage, a cat for a porcine pal and aliens for a kidnapping, and Sarnoski has moulded the terrain of his second feature to pair perfectly with his first. Wolff further links the helmer's two movies together; however, they'd prove a set without him. When the only other critter that defines your days and spends its own by your side is in peril — your one constant in a life already under the shadow of loss, too — the fierceness with which you'd react is the same whether vengeance or safety is your ultimate aim. Samira has another mission: securing that yearned-for slice in Harlem, which she's willing to navigate the chaotic streets with the utmost of hush to endeavour to taste. Sarnoski again deeply understands what our bonds with animals, places and things can say about us; why we cling to and fight for them unflinchingly and against the odds; and how devastating it can be when what little that a person has left is under threat. Accordingly, committing to hunt down a favourite piece of pizza while bedlam breaks out isn't just about enjoying an Italian meal. As with Pig, casting enormously aids the process of taking viewers on this emotional and psychological journey. Cage gave one of his finest performances in a career filled with versatile wonders as a truffle-foraging ex-Portland chef whose tentative sense of stability and self were shattered sans swine, and fellow Oscar-winner Nyong'o, ten years on from clutching Hollywood's most-coveted trophy for 12 Years a Slave, is equally as gripping. Sarnoski's current star is no stranger to horror, or to being excellent in it. See: Nyong'o's unforgettable effort in 2019, just past the midway point between 12 Years a Slave and A Quiet Place: Day One, in Jordan Peele's haunting and razor-sharp Us. Conveying the piercingly melancholy feeling of fighting what's long been a fraught fray for yourself, but holding up the battle for what you hold dearest, isn't an easy feat in her latest role — and nor is doing so when terror on multiple levels never subsides. It's also the heart and soul of the movie, which continues the franchise trademark of valuing characters over bumps and jumps, even as it still delivers the latter. Nyong'o wears Samira's determination despite several hazards to her mortality as assuredly as the fentanyl patches that get her character through the day, and the red beanie and yellow cardigan that are Samira's uniform. Knocked out amid the Big Apple erupting in mayhem, noise and white dust — any racket, of course, being the most-fatal thing for everyone desperate to avoid extinction — A Quiet Place: Day One's lead figure first wakes up in the puppet theatre, and she isn't solo. All things A Quiet Place have established in prior flicks how fleeting and fragile any calm and refuge can be, even in the best-case setup of the OG movie's Abbott clan, so it's no surprise when tragedy keeps thundering in. Via Djimon Hounsou's (Rebel Moon) Henri, though, the film gets a direct tie to A Quiet Place Part II and hope that some kind of future beckons. Courtesy of Joseph Quinn's (Stranger Things) English law student Eric, who also gives the picture another opportunity to demonstrate the comforting power of befriending a mouser, Samira's ordeal receives a new chance at human connection. And with its scene-stealing kitty, who is played by 100-percent real the real thing and is wonderful, cinema gains a complement to Alien's Jonsey. Collaborating again with cinematographer Pat Scola (We Grown Now) after Pig, Sarnoski has switched areas of America, yet there's no less of a lived-in texture to A Quiet Place: Day One's look and feel. That's another not-at-all-small achievement in a successful sci-fi/horror saga — one that has briefly jumped back to attack day in the past, in fact — that's set in a city that virtually everyone around the has globe has walked through via the silver screen almost as much as their own locations IRL. Meaningful wins when far less could've resulted sums up the film again and again, from a story co-conjured with Krasinski that does far more than merely extend a hit realm to the exactingly executed creature-feature sequences and the meticulous sound design that a tale predicated upon silence demands. Movies about attempting to endure can also be movies about finding your own idea of utopia in the absolute direst of circumstances, no matter how short-lived, and this one hears the call loudly.
As a movie, it's a masterpiece. As a stage musical, it's one of the most famous there is. And, returning to Australia for the first time in almost 20 years with Sarah Brightman starring as Norma Desmond, Sunset Boulevard is going to be big. Andrew Lloyd Webber's Tony-winner, which first took the leap from the screen to the stage in 1993 — and picked up Best Musical, Best Original Score, Best Book of a Musical, and awards for leading actor, leading actress and featured actor for its efforts, among more — is bringing its Hollywood story Down Under again in 2024. The production will kick off its new Aussie run in Melbourne from Tuesday, May 21, debuting at the Princess Theatre. As Desmond, Brightman will make her global debut in the part, taking on her first theatre role in over three decades. She'll also add to a spectacular career that includes originating the role of Christine in The Phantom of the Opera back in the 80s. Here, she's stepping into a part that saw Gloria Swanson nominated for an Oscar in 1951 and Glenn Close win a Tony in 1995. Debra Byrne played the part in Australia back in 1996, while Nicole Scherzinger of the Pussycat Dolls has done the same in West End. [caption id="attachment_921590" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Simon Fowler[/caption] As Billy Wilder's 1950 film first covered in a feature that's been influential not just in inspiring stage adaptations, but on every other movie about Tinseltown since, Sunset Boulevard follows silent star Desmond. With her career getting small with the advent of the talkies, she dreams about making a comeback. The movie famously starts with a man's body floating in a swimming pool, then flashes back to Desmond's time with screenwriter Joe Gillis, her latest attempts to reclaim her success and the events that bring about that watery end. On the stage, Sunset Boulevard will echo with tunes such as 'With One Look', 'The Perfect Year' and 'As If We Never Said Goodbye' as it tells the above tale. [caption id="attachment_956091" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Ben King[/caption] Top image: Ben King.
Post-viewing soundtrack, sorted: to watch Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story is to take a trip down memory lane with the Australian music industry and hear homegrown standouts from the past five decades along the way. Unsurprisingly, this documentary already has an album to go with it, a stacked release which'd instantly do its eponymous figure proud. His tick of approval wouldn't just stem from the artists surveyed, but because Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story's accompanying tunes comprise a three-disc number like Mushroom Records' first-ever drop, a 1973 Sunbury Festival live LP. To tell the tale of Gudinski, the record executive and promoter who became a household name, is to tell of Skyhooks, Split Enz, Hunters & Collectors, Jimmy Barnes, Paul Kelly, Kylie Minogue, Archie Roach, Yothu Yindi, Bliss n Esso, The Temper Trap, Gordi and Vance Joy, too — and to listen to them. Need this on-screen tribute to give you some kind of sign that the Gudinski and Mushroom story spans a heap of genres? Both the film and the album alike include Peter Andre. Any journey through Michael Gudinski's life and career, from his childhood entrepreneurship selling car parks on his family's vacant lot to his years and years getting Aussie music to the masses — and, on the touring side, bringing massively popular overseas artists to Aussies — needs to also be an ode to the industry that he adored. The man and scene are inseparable. But perhaps Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story plays as such an overt love letter to Australian music because it's an unashamed hagiography of Gudinski. Although the movie doesn't deliver wall-to-wall praise, it comes close. When it begins to hint at any traces of arrogance, moodiness or ruthlessness, it quickly does the doco equivalent of skipping to the next track. Australian Rules and Suburban Mayhem director Paul Goldman, a seasoned hand at music videos as well, has called his feature Ego and there's no doubting his subject had one; however, the takeaway in this highly authorised biography is that anything that doesn't gleam was simply part of his natural mischievousness and eager push for success. Much shines in Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story anyway, and always would: that list of artists that've graced Mushroom's catalogue is as impressive as it is sizeable. Many get chatting, including a raw Barnes, a glowing Minogue and a reflective Tim Finn. Internationally, Garbage's Shirley Manson beams about Gudinski's fair treatment of women in a realm not known for it. Sting, Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen and Dave Grohl, representing the veteran global megastar contingent, talk up his energy, work ethic and hospitality. When Ed Sheeran chimes in, he shares about a deeply personal bond as much about Gudinski's help making him such a smash Down Under. Weaved between the above airwave and plenty more favourites, Gudinski's wife Sue is understandably tender but also candid, while children Kate (once a singer–songwriter herself) and Matt (now Mushroom Records' CEO) are affecting yet clear-eyed. The portrait painted: of someone who was so obsessed with music, and with working with musicians, that revolving his whole life around both was always going to happen. Gudinski himself notes that picking up instruments was never his forte, so making deals for and with the folks who play them became his calling. A wealth of behind-the-scenes anecdotes stating the same case come from Michael Chugg, a fellow Aussie music-industry mainstay who has operated both beside and in competition with Gudinski — but Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story's most prominent, enthusiastic and frequently deployed interviewee is Gudinski. While 2023 marks two years since he passed away suddenly, he's a lively presence again and again in this birth-to-death chronicle. The benefits of spending your time with rock and pop stars: even in the 70s, cameras capturing a treasure trove of footage were regularly present. Like Moonage Daydream and Cobain: Montage of Heck filmmaker Brett Morgen, writer/helmer Goldman knows one of the biggest truths in the documentary field, be it in music or otherwise: there's nothing like someone relaying their own history. With Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story, hence the celebratory vibe, because Gudinski also knew how to promote himself. And, of course, charting how the Australian-born son of Jewish Lithuanian immigrants started spruiking teen discos when he was a teen, formed a record label championing Australian music at just 20, took a chance on now-iconic acts that were boundary-pushing in their day and built Mushroom into a local behemoth is inherently rousing. Jam-packed doesn't only describe Mushroom's roster, this movie's soundtrack or Gudinski's existence — it sums up this ride of a film. Goldman, co-writer/producer Bethany Jones (Molly: The Real Thing), fellow scribe/editor Sara Edwards (Suzi Q) and Mushroom Studios, Gudinski's label's film arm, could've opted for a docuseries and had no trouble filling episode after episode. In keeping to 111 minutes, the end result resembles a greatest-hits package from the Gudinski experience. Accordingly, when Red Symons offers the most blunt and sceptical opinions, it stands out. When Kelly laments the early-90s sale of 49 percent of the company to News Corp, it leaves an imprint as well. Each chapter screams for more attention — as does the decision not to sign Men at Work or Cold Chisel (Barnes was snapped up when he went solo); the reluctance to broaden Mushroom's remit away from rock with then-Neighbours star Minogue; supporting Roach, Yothu Yindi and First Nations music in general; and, on the live gig side, Sound Relief's fundraising concerts for the Black Saturday bushfires and early-pandemic effort Music From the Home Front. Revelations and insights still drop like beats, with the fact that the Nazis killed Gudinski's older sister during the Second World War an unforgettable early disclosure. Affection remains Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story's catchy refrain, though — and, as set to that aforementioned soundtrack, it is indeed infectious. The comic book-esque graphics are overkill, which Goldman seems to realise partway through, giving them less and less prominence. Appreciating the talent that mightn't be so beloved today without Gudinski's love of music? There's nothing excessive about that. Walking out of the cinema and slipping on headphones ASAP is just inevitable.
There's almost nothing that's bold about Haunted Mansion, but making the Disney family-friendly horror-comedy about moving on from the past is downright audacious. What the film preaches, the company behind it isn't practising — with this specific movie or in general. This flick isn't the first that's based on the Mouse House's The Haunted Mansion theme-park attraction, thanks to a 2003 Eddie Murphy (You People)-starring feature. In 2021, the entertainment behemoth also combined the Disneyland, Walt Disney World and Tokyo Disneyland highlight with The Muppets in streaming special Muppets Haunted Mansion. And, no matter how Haunted Mansion circa 2023 fares at the box office, there's no doubting that the idea will get another spin down the line. Nearly everything Disney does; this is the corporation that keeps remaking its animated hits as live-action pictures (see: The Little Mermaid), revelling in sequels even decades later (see: Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny), and getting franchises sprawling as films and TV shows alike (see: Marvel and Star Wars). Disney also adores stretching its well-known properties across as many parts of its business as possible, sometimes taking its movies and brands into its amusement parks — Star Wars, Marvel and Pixar have all received that treatment — and, of course, repeatedly doing the reverse. Pirates of the Caribbean, Jungle Cruise, Tomorrowland, Tower of Terror, Mission to Mars, The Country Bears: they've all charted the path that Haunted Mansion has three times now. Accordingly, while grappling with and learning how to move forward from grief isn't an amusing topic, that letting go sits at the latest Haunted Mansion's centre is the funniest thing about the new film. The first word in the picture's moniker couldn't be more spot on — not just due to the ghosts that terrorise the titular home, but via the unnerving reality that this is another by-the-numbers entry in a long line of attempts to hero existing name recognition first, foremost and forever. When Dear White People and Bad Hair filmmaker Justin Simien begins his Haunted Mansion, it's with backstory that explains why astrophysicist Ben Matthias (LaKeith Stanfield, Atlanta) is himself so unwilling to embrace the future. He meets Alyssa (Charity Jordan, They Cloned Tyrone), falls in love, then understandably falls apart when he's suddenly a widower — and, once he's consumed by mourning he's committed to staying that way. Then priest and exorcist Father Kent (Owen Wilson, Loki) ropes him into a gig at the movie's central abode, enlisting not just his help but the use of his specially developed camera that photographs dark matter and, ideally, spectres. The gadget was a labour of love for Alyssa, who worked as a ghost tour guide around New Orleans, a job that Ben has swapped science and the lab for after her passing. There's a difference between truly believing in the supernatural and wanting to feel connected to the person you love, however; Ben is in the second category. So, when he gets snapping to help Gracey Manor's new inhabitant Gabbie (Rosario Dawson, Ahsoka), a doctor who has just relocated with her son Travis (Chase W Dillon, The Harder They Fall), he's as sceptical as he can be and just in it for the hefty payday. Then, two things eventuate: he connects with the shy and introverted boy, who is treated like an outcast at school; and, no matter how much he tries, he can't leave the home's spirits behind. Cue a notion straight from Disney's IRL playbook: being unable to cut ties. In Ben's case, the only solution is taking the haunted mansion's eeriness seriously, discovering what's going on, and calling in psychic Harriet (Tiffany Haddish, The Afterparty) and college historian Bruce Davis (Danny DeVito, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia) to also lend a hand. Haunted Mansion's unspoken motto: if you're going to make a movie based on a theme-park favourite, you might as well make a theme park-style movie. So, something chaotic pops up around every corner, be it more nods to the feature's origins, more otherworldly bumps and jumps, more famous faces or more weak attempts at laughs. There's a bigger sense of experience to an amusement-park attraction, though, rather than just something happening, then something else, then another thing and so on as occurs here. Screenwriter Katie Dippold has one of the best-written — and best overall — sitcoms of the 21st century on her resume in Parks and Recreation, and also penned 2016's smart and funny female-led Ghostbusters, and yet her current script largely sticks to the rails. While there's emotional depth to Ben's journey, as well as to his bond with Travis, Haunted Mansion is rarely eager to veer there, preferring formulaic cursed-dwelling hijinks to sincerity everywhere it can. Still, viewers should be grateful for the film's casting — especially Stanfield. The Judas and the Black Messiah Academy Award-nominee brings his roaming, restless Atlanta energy, melancholy and charm to Ben, aiding the film in conjuring up what little weight it has. It's through him, in fact, that it's possible to see the shadows of a better movie that Haunted Mansion sadly isn't. Around Stanfield, the bulk of his colleagues appear to be having enough fun with each other, including Dan Levy (Schitt's Creek) and 2023 Oscar-winner Jamie Lee Curtis (Halloween Ends). That's another of Haunted Mansion's theme park-esque strategies: filling its frames with folks who look like they're enjoying themselves, even among an onslaught of stock-standard special effects that lengthen hallways, get people disappearing through walls and the like, in the hope that the vibe will be contagious. Alas, it sorely isn't. It's easy to want to spend time with Stanfield and co: Wilson could've just skipped through time from 1999's The Haunting, but makes it work; Haddish amps up the mood whenever it's needed; and playing a figure that everyone is trying to flee perfectly suits Jared Leto (Morbius), who gets malicious as The Hatbox Ghost. A few spooks and scares hit the mark as well, but too few in an over-long-and-feels-it 123-minute movie. There's another presence lingering over Haunted Mansion, however: the ghost of genuinely excellent all-ages efforts, some with chills and others more with thrills, that are still beloved from years gone by. When this lacklustre effort is the newest entry in the field, no one is quickly moving past prior classics that still hold up wonderfully, such as Gremlins and The Goonies in the 80s; The Addams Family and Addams Family Values in the 90s; The Witches in that same decade; and the animated efforts of Coraline, ParaNorman and Frankenweenie.
Nicolas Cage is sorely missed in Five Nights at Freddy's, not that he was ever on the film's cast list. He starred in 2021's Willy's Wonderland, however, which clearly took its cues from the video-game franchise that this attempt to start a corresponding movie series now officially adapts. Willy's Wonderland wasn't great, but a near-silent Cage battling demonic animatronics was always going to be worth seeing. Unsurprisingly, he's mesmerising. In comparison, the actual Five Nights at Freddy's feature stars Josh Hutcherson deep in his older brother phase, bringing weary charm to a by-the-numbers horror flick that's as routine as they come no matter whether you've ever mashed buttons along with its inspiration — which first dropped in 2014 and now spans nine main games, a tenth on the way and five spinoffs — or seen everyone's favourite Renfield, Pig and Color Out of Space actor give an unlicensed take a go. Writer/director Emma Tammi (The Wind), the game's creator Scott Cawthon (Scooby Doo, Where Are You? In... SPRINGTRAPPED!) and co-screenwriter Seth Cuddeback's (Mateo) movie iteration of Five Nights at Freddy's doesn't just arrive after a Cage film got there first; it hits after season 16 of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia wreaked havoc on a comparable setting already in 2023. If you're looking for a pitch-black comedic skewering of eateries in the style of Chuck E Cheese, the IRL pizzeria-meets-arcade chain that Freddy Fazbear's Pizza is patently based on, that's the best of the year. So, the Five Nights at Freddy film lingers in multiple shadows. There's symmetry on- and off-screen as result: shining a torchlight around in the movie uncovers sights that its characters would rather not see, and peering even just slightly through recent pop culture shows that this picture isn't alone, either. The concept in Five Nights at Freddy's whether you've got a controller in your hand or you're watching a flick: at the once-popular Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, which was big with families in the 80s, working the night shift at the restaurant's long-shuttered base has killer consequences. That's when the life-sized singing-and-dancing furry robots that performed shows for kids when the place was operational now go menacingly a-wandering, and also make their lack of fondness for visitors brutally known, causing a high staff turnover. Five Nights at Freddy's does explain why, but everything from what's going on to the reason behind it is horror movie 101. The film may take place in an eatery rather than a home — a creepy one, of course — but it's basically a haunted house affair, and happily ticks all of the most standard of genre boxes. Taking the gig from career counsellor Steve Raglan (Matthew Lillard, Scream) reluctantly, Mike Schmidt (Hutcherson, Futureman) doesn't want to be anywhere but his own abode come dark, let alone in a dilapidated old funhouse restaurant with anthropomorphic animal figures as one of its main attractions. But he's in need of work after being fired from his mall security job because he wrongly thought that a dad scolding his son was a man kidnapping a child, and reacted violently — and he has his ten-year-old sister Abby (Piper Rubio, Unstable) to look after. They're all that each other have left since the death of their parents and the abduction of their brother Garrett (Lucas Grant, The Patient) years before that, which Mike feels responsible for, other than the overbearing aunt (Mary Stuart Masterson, Blindspot) who is maliciously suing for custody. Mike normally spends his evenings attempting to find out what happened to Garrett via his dreams, a task he continues at Freddy's, with his preoccupation elsewhere giving the animatronics free rein. The place is inherently eerie in a dusty, overlooked, caught-out-of-time way — and also if you just think that giant teddy bears like Freddy can be ominous anyway — but Five Nights at Freddy's lead hasn't noticed until local cop Vanessa (Elizabeth Lail, You) drops by one night while patrolling her beat. Fuelled by his tragic past and ignoring the key 'don't fall asleep' rule of his overnight gig, he's too busy yawning his way to some shuteye to put dream theory to work to unlock his memories of the incident that shattered his family forever. Constructing a film around an oft-snoozing protagonist can be a double-edged sword, and cuts the wrong way here, reminding viewers that they might prefer to be slumbering as well. All that's endeavouring to keep most of the audience awake is predictable circuitry, from horror's current obsession with examining trauma's impact (and the genre's undying love of overusing any trend in flicks great, average and terrible) to overt nods in Stephen King and Scooby Doo's directions. That Scooby Doo vibe is telling, though: rather than just trying to evoke nostalgia in viewers who can remember their days as kids in arcades, family-themed restaurants or combos of both, Five Nights at Freddy's is as much aimed at adolescents now. Accordingly, Tammi hasn't taken a Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey approach — not that that's a worthy example of blending cuddly critters with horror at all — with her film focusing on mood, anticipation, suggestion and jump scares over anything gory or terrifying. Younger audiences still deserve better than a movie this generic. Everyone deserves something other than a film where more time is expended on the build-up and backstory than with Freddy Fazbear, Foxy, Chica, Cupcake and Bonnie. Created by Jim Henson's Creature Shop, the mechanised mascots look the part, but are both under-deployed and then stuck going through the murderous motions. Winking casting that gives away too much is also part of the Five Nights at Freddy's film experience. So is the pointless aunt subplot, which couldn't be more cartoonish. Scenes that do nothing but gush exposition — and ensure that there's zero mystery around who knows more than they're letting on — similarly bog down the movie. Hutcherson and Rubio nonetheless do well enough with pixel-thin characters, especially in a feature that frequently seems as if it has spliced an unrelated flick about sibling trauma into the Five Nights at Freddy's premise. A picture based on the gaming series was always bound to happen, and Blumhouse adding another established well-known horror name to a stable that also includes Black Christmas, Fantasy Island, The Invisible Man, The Craft's sequel, three Halloween movies, Firestarter and the latest The Exorcist entry was just as likely, but it shouldn't play like everything within it and about it is dully inevitable.
Is your wardrobe overflowing with clothes that you don't wear? We've all been there, and we've all been too busy to do anything about it. Through its op shops, Australian Red Cross finds a new home for your pre-loved outfits, shoes and accessories, with proceeds going towards its charity efforts — but we all know that wanting to donate your old threads is one thing and finding the time to do it is another. That's why Australian Red Cross has once again partnered with Uber for its annual Uber x Red Cross Clothing Drive. When it launched in 2018, it collected over 43,500 kilograms of clothing in that first year alone, which saw clothing items worth an estimated $800,000 donated. And you'd best take the drive part literally, as the ride-sharing service will actually drive to your house, pick up your unwanted clothes and accessories, and deliver them to Red Cross Shops. Even better: it's not only super easy to take part, but it's free as well. Melburnians, just make sure you're ready between 9am–4pm on Saturday, October 21. Once you've bagged up all of your old bits and pieces (items you'd happily give your best friend, and no toys, books, furniture or electrical objects) into a bundle that weighs no more than 20 kilograms, it's all incredibly simple. Open the Uber app during that seven-hour window, then find the 'package' option. After that, you need to click 'send a package', enter "Red Cross Shop" as the destination, and select one of the Red Cross Clothing Drive locations displayed An Uber driver will then stop outside your house, meaning that you just need to take your preloved goods out to their car. Voila, you've cleared out your closet and you've helped folks in need, all with the tap of a button.
When it comes to this cheap way to get a bite brought to your door across Friday, August 25–Sunday, August 27, Larry Emdur and Ian 'Turps' Turpie spring to mind: the price is indeed right. Across the three days, DoorDash is bringing back its $1 Weekend. Not that you'll be paying with actual gold coins, but that's all you'll need denomination-wise for a heap of dishes. Running across the country, this weekend special has enlisted Fishbowl, Lord of the Fries, Betty's Burgers and San Churro — and Soul Origin, Pizza Hut, Red Rooster and Oporto, too. Prefer Huxtaburger instead? That's also on the list, as is Smith & Deli, Daniel Donuts and Gami Chicken. Each state has more than 2000 offers available across the three days, including Victoria. Of course, as there always is, there are caveats. The big one: the deal is available from 2–5pm AEST each day, so you'll either want a late lunch or early dinner. Another crucial point: there's a unique promo code for each day displayed on the DoorDash app for each store, which you need to use at checkout. And, you will 100-percent need to order via that app. Also, you can only get one $1 menu item per order — and one $1 special per day, too. Unsurprisingly, only some menu items are available for $1. And, some places will only let you get one $1 special across the whole weekend. Delivery and service fees are still applicable, and an order fee will be added if your subtotal is less than $15. Still, in this economy, a bargain is a bargain.
If you've ever wanted to turn your childhood into a movie, Theater Camp is the latest film that understands. It's also happy to laugh. Unlike Minari, Belfast, The Fabelmans, Aftersun and Past Lives, this isn't a drama, with Molly Gordon, Ben Platt, Noah Galvin and Nick Lieberman making a sidesplittingly funny mockumentary about a place that's near and dear to them. What happens when four friends reflect upon their formative years, when they all fell in love with putting on a show? Theater Camp is the pitch-perfect answer. Looking backwards can be earnest and nostalgic, as Gordon and company know and embrace. Going for Wet Hot American Summer meets Waiting for Guffman and A Mighty Wind, they're just as aware that it can be utterly hilarious. Watching Theater Camp means stepping into Gordon, Platt, Galvin and Lieberman's reality. None are currently camp counsellors, but the realm that they parody genuinely is personal. The film's core quartet initially came into each other's lives via youth theatre. With Gordon and Platt, the picture even boasts the receipts — aka IRL footage of the pair performing as kids — from a time when they were appearing together in Fiddler on the Roof at age four and in How to Succeed in Business at five. This team was first driven to bring their shared experiences to the screen in an improvised 2020 short also called Theater Camp. Now, they flesh out that bite-sized flick to full length as enthusiastically as any wannabe actor has ever monologued. All four co-write, while Booksmart and The Bear star Gordon directs with fellow first-time feature helmer Lieberman. Gordon, Dear Evan Hansen stage and screen lead Platt, plus Galvin — who similarly portrayed that Broadway hit's title role — act as well, playing three of the adults at AdirondACTS. Gordon and Platt cast themselves as Rebecca-Diane and Amos, Theater Camp's co-dependent life-long best friends forever. The film's central vacation spot was the joined-at-the-hip characters' ultimate escape, and still is. That said, their move into teaching at the same venue is a clear sign that their aspirations as performers haven't come to fruition. Every year now, Rebecca-Diane and Amos guide teen campers through all things theatre — and towards putting on the season's big show, an original that the duo also write and direct. But Theater Camp's summer in focus isn't any old summer. Before the thespians of tomorrow arrive, while the financially struggling AdirondACTS is in fundraising mode, founder Joan (Amy Sedaris, Somebody I Used to Know) falls into a coma due to "the first Bye Bye Birdie–related injury in the history of Passaic County". While she's incapacitated, that leaves her finfluencer son Troy (Jimmy Tatro, a YouTuber and now The Afterparty and Strays talent) in charge. Also in upstate New York while the sun shines, the histrionics ramp up and everything becomes a performance: the camp's put-upon backstage go-to Glenn (Galvin, The Good Doctor), who is largely ignored and underappreciated by his peers; costume guru Gigi (Owen Thiele, Hacks) and dance instructor Clive (Nathan Lee Graham, Katy Keene), who couldn't be more passionate about their respective disciplines; and staff newcomer Janet (Ayo Edebiri, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem), who knows less than the students. Representing a neighbouring private-school camp that's been flashing its cash for years trying to buy AdirondACTS' land from Joan, lawyer Caroline (Patti Harrison, She-Hulk: Attorney at Law) struts around in an effort to convince Troy to sell. And there are kids, of course, of varying skills and with an array of theatre-related hopes (Minari's Alan Kim, Young Rock's Bailee Bonick, Chapelwaite's Donovan Colan and The Mighty Ducks: Game Changers' Luke Islam are among them). Gordon, Platt, Galvin and Lieberman focus their script on the production of Joan, Still, Rebecca-Diane and Amos' centrepiece musical for the year and a tribute to their absent mentor — and, as finances keep proving an issue, Troy's cluelessness constantly has an impact and Caroline is adamant about snapping up the facility, on saving the entire site. Chaos ensues, which is predictable in the film's broad strokes but, crucially, never in its minutiae. While foreseeing that arguments, tantrums, rivalries, broken dreams, battling egos, budget woes and behind-the-scenes mishaps will all flow is easy, the particulars, and the whys and hows of what's going on, rarely take the expected route. Indeed, because they've been there, lived that and are now eagerly and warmheartedly satirising it, the Theater Camp crew perfects the art of going specific to get universal. Accordingly, if you were once a budding drama geek as well, prepare to be seen and spoofed but also celebrated. Prepare to be showered in lines, references, costumes, sets and moments that couldn't be more authentic, in fact. If you don't know your Damn Yankees from your Hamilton, though, prepare to plunge into a madcap world that's the epitome of youthful fervour and adult malaise swishing together. Theater Camp mightn't dazzle if it didn't feel so bona fide — and if it didn't so gleefully and visibly love playing around in its very own microcosm, just like children discovering their own place to belong at a theatre camp and actors finding themselves in role after role. Gordon, Platt, Galvin and Lieberman couldn't have better riffed on their favourite time as kids and what might've been if they hadn't found success, or enlisted a more-willing cast. In the crowded mockumentary field, they're also spot-on at cannily deploying the genre's tropes. Watching Theater Camp also means wanting to sit down to see Blackmail and Botox, A Hanukkah Divorce and The Briefcase, The Door & the Salad next. No one can, because they're each purely creations of this very amusing flick; what fun the film's key foursome must've had coming up with those titles alone. Theater Camp is a stage-adoring screen gem that's a lively labour of love and a clear work of fun, too: to lampoon treading the boards, summer camps and the exact place where both meet, and to do so this entertainingly, requires knowing the theatre scene and its training grounds intimately. Wanting to catch The Crucible Jr and even an immersive stage version of Cats (that surely couldn't be worse than 2019's cinema take) — yes, that equally springs from laughing heartily through this ode to performing as a dream, a job, a future, an obsession and a way of life.
As if Melbourne's spring vibes weren't radiant enough, Bourke Street is getting an extra dash of luminance with Luminous at 206 Bourke Street — sure to be a lit celebration of the traditional Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival. Yes, yes, Australia is only in mid-spring, but it's mid-autumn in China. Known alternatively as the Moon Festival or the more mouth-watering Mooncake Festival, it's a global Chinese celebration inspired by — you guessed it — the moon. Over the weekend of Friday, September 29–Sunday, October 1, beats from Chinese Australian musicians will fill the air, while Melbourne-based MCPA Dance will be shimmying around with a traditional Chinese dragon dance. There's more: mooncake giveaways, a game zone with prizes like vouchers and soft toys to be won, lantern-making workshops that'll take you back to crafty primary school days and even a selfie contest. Seriously, snap a pic with the glowing lantern backdrop and you could score some centre cards. Plus, if by any chance you're in the city for the AFL Grand Final (or maybe avoiding it), it's a brilliant way to balance footy fever with some cultural enrichment — and it's all free.
Trust a movie that's all about connection and pluck to boast plenty itself. The second of cinema's recent father-daughter pictures out of Britain that's directed by a first-time feature filmmaker called Charlotte — the first: Charlotte Wells' Aftersun — Charlotte Regan's Scrapper couldn't be better cast or any more fearless about telling its tale. Starring as 12-year-old Georgie, a pre-teen striving to survive on her own with any help from adults or the authorities after her mum Vicky's (Olivia Brady, The Phantom of the Open) death from cancer, debutant Lola Campbell is an electrifying find. Fresh from playing a model in Triangle of Sadness, Harris Dickinson is now an absent rather than ideal dad, a part that he infuses with equal doses of soul, sorrow, charisma and cheek. And, recognising that she's hardly skipping through new narrative territory, writer/director Regan heaps on character and personality. This is a perky, bright and bubbly take on a kitchen-sink story. There's sadness in 2023's Sundance Film Festival Grand Jury Prize-winner, too, with Scrapper scoring its award in the fest's World Cinema Dramatic Competition. There's anger as well, especially about a society that has Georgie convinced that staying solo in the council flat she lived in with her mother — a space that she's now fastidious about keeping exactly as it was before heartbreak struck — is her top choice. But Regan sees colour amid the grey, plus possibilities alongside struggles. Her view is clear-eyed but never steely. Regan unblinkingly witnesses the realities of working-class existence, yet also spies joy and whimsy, and similarly isn't afraid of getting surreal. This is a flick with talking spiders — cue literal bubbles, of the speech variety — alongside scrapping to get by. Indeed, while Scrapper may owe one of its debts to Sorry We Missed You's Ken Loach, aka England's go-to kitchen-sink filmmaker and one of its all-time directing icons, it also slides in next to Del Kathryn Barton's Blaze. That searing debut had its own 12-year-old protagonist's existence forever altered by witnessing horrific violence, which isn't part of Georgie's plight; however, the Australian feature similarly understood the power of escaping to cope so deeply that unleashing its imagination was always its approach. Both movies pair fantasy with empathy, winningly and resonantly so, knowing that seeking solace from life's worst moments is essential and universal. The two films also want their audiences to take in the world from their lead character's perspectives — which being dreamy and leaning into magical realism couldn't be more crucial to. When she's not maintaining her humble abode as her mum left it — even the couch cushions need to sit in the same place they've always been — Georgie has two key ways of getting by. She makes cash by stealing, repainting and selling bicycles with her friend Ali (fellow newcomer Alin Uzun), with the no-nonsense Zeph (Ambreen Razia, Ted Lasso) her fence. To stop child services from stepping in, she tells them that her uncle Winston Churchill is on guardian duties, using taped snippets of the local convenience store clerk saying pivotal phrases to back her up when anyone official rings. Practical, resourceful, enterprising, resilient: these all fit the resolute adolescent, who is determined to retain as much about her days when her mother was alive as she can. Georgie is well-aware that she's working through the stages of grief, diligently tracking them with Ali, but she's certain that she's found the best way of dealing with her situation. Enter Dickinson's Jason, who drops in with bleached-blonde hair — and by jumping over the back fence — to stay with the daughter that he's never known until now. Georgie is wary and flatout unwelcoming, but she's a kid and he's an adult, which means that he's sticking around regardless of her attitude. From there, of course this is an account of two strangers bonded by only blood initially, then getting to know each other. It's never as formulaic as that setup sounds, though, including by constantly embracing openness and playfulness. When Regan has Georgie and Ali ponder what Jason's real motives might be, for instance, she brings to life their fears that he could be a gangster or a vampire. And, often offering to-camera commentary is the picture's chorus of supporting characters, as shot in Super 16, in another of Scrapper's lively stylistic touches. Strip all of Scrapper's aesthetic flourishes away and it wouldn't be the tender, sincere, charming and creative standout that it is. Its rich and energetic look and feel are that evocative, affecting and indispensable, as aided by talented cinematographer Molly Manning Walker — a director herself, with her own feature debut How to Have Sex also an applauded 2023 release, taking out Cannes Film Festival's Un Certain Regard. But, if Regan had served up a visually and tonally standard movie with the usual grit, Campbell and Dickinson's work would've still been gleamingly exceptional. Their dynamic would've remained unmissable as well. Just like Scrapper's palette and production design, there's nothing black and white about Regan's two main characters, who bound across the screen with their strengths, flaws, joys hopes and disappointments on full display — and also nothing straightforward about their complicated relationship. Not just because this is her first-ever acting credit, Campbell's efforts never read like a performance. Authenticity shines as vividly as the paint adorning the film's central housing estate's outer walls, no matter whether Georgie is clinging to her mum's ways for comfort, mischievously palling around with Ali, pulling off her ploys with confidence or ever-so-slowly warming to Jason. In what's proving a prolific chapter of a burgeoning career that's only going to keep blossoming, The King's Man, The Souvenir: Part II, Where the Crawdads Sing and See How They Run's Dickinson also inhabits the role of a wayward dad returned with lived-in commitment and emotion. There are no scraps in these portrayals, and there's nothing piecemeal about this movie; Scrapper and its upbeat yet unflinching slice-of-life chronicle arrives fully and gloriously formed.
March isn't the only time to celebrate Ireland in Australia. If you're a movie lover who adores the country's talents, landscapes and cinema output, the Irish Film Festival is just as exciting. In 2023 in Melbourne, the fest returns for four days across Thursday, November 2–Sunday, November 5 with its reliably impressive program — this time taking over Cinema Nova. Every film festival is made better when Olivia Colman is involved — and at IFF, the Empire of Light and Heartstopper star is popping up in Joyride, which is penned by Bad Sisters' scribe Ailbhe Keogan. The movie tells of a 12-year-old who flees a difficult home situation in a stolen taxi, only to find a woman passed out in the backseat with a baby. Another massive highlight from the 16-title national program: the Oscar- and BAFTA-winning short An Irish Goodbye, which follows a a young man with Down's Syndrome and his brother when they discover their recently deceased mother's bucket list. Also among the fest's must-sees is opening film Lakelands, which dives into rural sport, masculinity and isolation. Or, there's It Is in Us All, which earned Special Jury Recognition for Extraordinary Cinematic Vision at SXSW; Róise & Frank, about a widow who believes that her late husband's spirit has returned via a stray dog; and North Circular, a music documentary that celebrates Dublin's North Circular Road. Documentary Lyra pays tribute journalist Lyra McKee, who was shot during rioting in Derry, with the film arriving four years since her death and 25 years since of Northern Ireland's Good Friday peace agreement. IFF will also include an online component to this year's fest, as it has been doing since the pandemic hit. If you're keen to watch Lakelands, It Is in Us All and Róise & Frank from home — and more — get streaming from Thursday, October 5–Sunday, November 5.
UPDATE, December 22, 2023: Foe streams via Prime Video from Friday, January 5, 2024. Pondering the end of the earth also means pondering the end of people. When the planet that we live on withers to the point of becoming uninhabitable, humanity doesn't just suffer big-picture consequences as a species — existentially, the basic facets of being human are upended as well. So explores and interrogates Foe, the haunting third feature from Australian director Garth Davis (Lion, Mary Magdalene), as well as the latest adaptation of Canadian author Iain Reid's books after 2020 movie I'm Thinking of Ending Things. The pair teamed up to pen the script to a dystopian thriller that looks every inch the stark sci-fi part, using Victoria's Winton Wetlands as its shooting location to double for America's midwest circa 2065, and yet is always one thing above all else: like Killers of the Flower Moon, too, this is a relationship drama. In his third film to reach Australian cinemas in 2023, his second since earning an Oscar nomination for Aftersun and also one of two in a row made Down Under alongside Carmen, Paul Mescal plays half of Foe's key couple opposite his Irish compatriot (plus Atonement, Brooklyn, Lady Bird and Little Women Academy Award-nominee) Saoirse Ronan. The pair trade their natural lilts for American accents as Junior and Hen, holdout farmers in a world and at a time where there's little hope in the field, their actual fields or for the future. As a title card explains, days on the third rock from the sun are numbered. Also noted in that opening text is the setup moving forward, relocating the population to space stations. And, as Blade Runner did decades ago and The Creator — which is also set in 2065 — adopted just this year, simulated humans are also entwined in this new status quo. Junior and Hen's marriage is one of lived-in routine, concise exchanges and loaded looks — of resignation and malaise, in fact, with life's realities tampering down the high-school sweethearts' spirits mere years into their wedded bliss. He works at a poultry factory, she waits tables at a diner, and the bleak expanse surrounding their farmhouse sports rows of symbolism; Foe's central couple cling to the wish that the inherited land and their love alike hasn't turned fallow, no matter the signs otherwise. With such barrenness lingering, car lights outside their home one night and then a sharp knock at the door were always going to feel like more than just an ordinary visitor. The cause is anything but an average passerby: he's government consultant Terrance (Aaron Pierre, Old), who has come with conscription orders for the OuterMore project, which is building the off-world installation that earth's residents will soon need to live on. Like young men before him forced to wage war, Junior doesn't have a choice in the plans to send him to space. With Hen, he also has no say in the next two crucial pieces of information that the calm-yet-commanding Terrance imparts: only Junior is going, but a simulant will take his place, not only looking and sounding but behaving exactly like him, so that Hen isn't left alone. The pair are told that they have around two years to adjust to this news, and that Terrance will eventually come to live with them as that departure date shuffles closer. Swiftly, the dust storms outside have another threat as a source of swirling tension and visible upheaval. In an already-fraying marriage and with an increasingly slipping sense of control, neither Junior nor Hen is pleased about their twist of fate, understandably — but enjoying what they have takes on added urgency. Even if two of Ireland's best current actors can't share their native tones in Foe, they share the screen with shimmering potency, selling every iota of emotion felt by their characters. Whether only coming to fame in 2020 with Normal People or demanding attention since being a 13-year-old stealing scenes in a BAFTA Best Picture-winner — so, each breaking out in highly anticipated and widely applauded page-to-screen adaptations — Mescal and Ronan keep proving themselves spectacular acting talents, which isn't different here. Both are supremely skilled at being silently, subtly and naturalistically expressive, and so at conveying interiority. Under Davis' guidance, that means cycling through hurt, anger, uncertainty, yearning, surprise, betrayal, affection and hope as Junior and Hen grapple with the full spreadh of responses to their situation, and also navigate the remnants of their long-festering romance. Each giving deeply felt performances that could swell through several countryside abodes, they bring to mind another great on-screen coupling that also tore into marital melancholy: Kate Winslet (Ronan's co-star in Ammonite) and Leonardo DiCaprio (Killers of the Flower Moon) in 2008's Revolutionary Road. Pierre, too, more than holds up his role as the third point in Foe's acting triangle. Ahead of becoming the voice of Mufasa in upcoming The Lion King sequel Mufasa: The Lion King — which reunites him with filmmaker Barry Jenkins after The Underground Railroad — he finds the ideal balance of enigmatic and intimidating in a movie that's all about shifts big and small. As Pierre's star rises, which it is destined to and fast, this will remain one of his essential performances. Adding to the excellent work all-round is cinematographer Mátyás Erdély (The Nest), who sees the landscape as surreal, foreboding and dreamy all at once. While Foe's backdrop might look like Australia if you're aware that it is, but devoid any ochre dirt and standard outback sights, it also blazes as lonely terrain that's as thorny and knotty as its animal, plant and human occupants. It could seem ambitious, getting desolate yet heatedly psychological and emotional in Black Mirror-esque environmental sci-fi-meets-AI territory, but Davis and Reid know what Charlie Brooker always has as well: that tales about where the future leads, and the technology it inspires with it, are nothing if they're not actually about people. Although within Foe sits a question about whether accepting and embracing AI replacements for our nearest and dearest is ever possible, what it means to live and love, to work out who we are and want to be, and to grow and progress — with or without tech — is hardwired into this affecting film. This is a movie about how people change and evolve, especially within relationships; how that change and evolution both responds to the climes and occurs regardless of it; and how it can happen together or individually, complete with the heartbreak when the latter applies. Aptly, then, it's an evocative, stirring and exceptionally acted feature that morphs in hindsight the more that's revealed on-screen, poignantly so.
The days are getting longer and hotter (mostly), meaning that spritz season has well and truly arrived in Melbourne. And to celebrate the start of summer, Pier Farm in Williamstown will be slinging $15 spritzes from 4–6pm, starting on Friday, December 1. Thankfully, the deal will run daily all the way up until the end of summer, so you've got heaps of time to get down to the marina-side restaurant for summery sips. And you don't have to stick to Aperol. The team has also jumped on the limoncello and Hugo spritz craze, with the latter made with St-Germain elderflower liqueur. In the spirit of spritzes, the Pier Farm team has curated a selection of Italian aperitivo snacks, from burrata to fresh oysters and melon wrapped in prosciutto. For those after something more substantial, the waterside restaurant also serves up woodfired pizzas, pasta and a heap of seafood — the perfect accompaniments for a summer spritz sesh.
When Riceboy Sleeps charts the passage of time from 1990 to 1999 partway into the movie, the Canadian film does so with Dong-hyun at its centre. As a six-year-old (played by debutant Dohyun Noel Hwang) navigating his initial taste of school from behind his large round glasses, he's shy, sensitive, and constantly reminded that he's different by teachers and classmates. As a 15-year-old (Ethan Hwang, The Umbrella Academy) with bleached-blonde hair and faux blue eyes, he's adopted a coping mechanism: trying to blend in. Riceboy Sleeps isn't just about Dong-hyun, who takes the anglicised name David in his attempts to assimilate. It's as much about his mother So-young (fellow feature first-timer Choi Seung-yoon), who relocates him from South Korea to North America after his soldier father's suicide. Writer/director Anthony Shim's sophomore release after 2019's Daughter hones in on the act of seeing, too — gleaning what's around you, who, why, the past that lingers, the stories that echo — as Dong-hyun and So-young survey where they are, where they've been, and how their history keeps dictating their present and future. In that aforementioned time jump, Shim — who helms, pens, edits and acts — and cinematographer Christopher Lew (Quickening) make eyes the focus. When Riceboy Sleeps dwells in the first year of the 90s, Dong-hyun's spectacles are frames within the frame, giving the boy his own windows to the world that he fidgets with, seems burdened by and, in an act of bullying by his peers, has dinged up and taken away. When the movie hits the end of the decade, Dong-hyun is putting in his contacts, therefore making the lens with which he perceives his existence invisible. Semi-inspired by his own childhood as a South Korean arrival to Vancouver Island in the 90s, including attending a school where he was the only Asian student, Riceboy Sleeps is this thoughtful at every level. The movement, and later lack thereof, of Lew's camerawork is just as loaded with meaning: in Canada, it's restless in long wide shots, careening around gracefully but noticeably and finding points to fixate on; back across the Pacific Ocean in the picture's bookending segments, it's still but just as observational. Riceboy Sleeps' opening unfurls a tale, with narration in Korean explaining that a baby girl was found at a temple in 1960. She'd grow up to be strong, flee the orphanage as soon as she was old enough, then fall for the son of a rice farmer. When her love took his own life, she had a newborn, wasn't married and attracted social stigma for both, hence shifting across the sea. The mountains and water that take centre stage during the film's introduction are dreamy and hazy. In Canada, even though greenery instantly awaits, the view is sharper and crisper. Again, Shim layers his 16-millimetre-shot feature with symbolism and significance everywhere that he can, ensuring that how So-young and Dong-hyun feel sweeps through every moment whether or not they're in sight — and especially when they're doing what settlers beyond their homeland do often, holding back their true thoughts and emotions. Inhabited with steeliness and deep-seated sorrow in equal parts by Choi, a dancer- and choreographer-turned-actor, So-young takes a job at a factory in her quest to give Dong-hyun the best life in their new surroundings that she can. She sends him to school with flavoursome Korean lunches. She makes his favourite kimchi at home. She's also anything but withdrawn when it comes to being treated fairly, reprimanding sexist colleagues at work and rallying against discriminatory decisions by Dong-hyun's principal. But with her son, she avoids answering when he asks about his dad. Alone, she scolds herself for her tears. She advises the younger Dong-hyun that there's only three times in a man's life that it's permissible to cry; being taunted by other kids in the playground, then singled out for punishment afterwards, isn't one of them. Shim spies the effort that's always coursing through So-young: to hide her pain, persevere, make the most of her new life, bring her boy up right, fit in but not be a victim and perhaps cement a fresh family dynamic with Korean Canadian Simon (Shim himself). He also spots the uncertainty streaming just as potently within Dong-hyun, who wants desperately to make sense of his place in the world, but isn't sure who he sees when he reflects upon himself. There's stubbornness to the boy as a child, as he ignores his mum when he's not getting what he wants and has tantrums in the car. Rebelliousness swirls in his teens, when getting stoned and tussling with fellow students are his forms of acting out. Riceboy Sleeps is patient in its pacing and visuals, even the latter frequently roams, and yet it's also a jittery film in its midsection to again mirror So-young and Dong-hyun's internal states. The Farewell, Monsoon, Minari, Everything Everywhere All At Once and Past Lives have probed the immigrant experience eloquently, expressively and weightily, not to mention recently, putting Riceboy Sleeps in excellent company rather than making it overly familiar. That the first two titles listed above also explore homecomings, complete with the intricacies and whirlwind of complicated emotions when the place that you're returning to isn't the place you really know, has the same impact. As with The Farewell, Monsoon, Minari and Past Lives particularly, this touching film never feels anything less than personal. That's accurate in its third act as well, when tragic news hits, South Korea becomes the movie's setting again and lingering hurt is confronted. There's a vast difference between trading in cliches and accepting life's inescapable reality — and when a feature is this lived-in, there's no tropes, just universal sensations. Riceboy Sleeps' dénouement is exceptionally affecting for its willingness to sit and contemplate. It's impossible not to garner that the frame stops roving and searching, as the characters do — and that valuing connection, time with the ones you love and small details, including in tough circumstances, comes tenderly to the fore. Of course, minutiae is important in every second of Shim's movie. Indeed, thematically, this is also a film about valuing what you have, and who, but mightn't properly understand or appreciate. It's a picture of acceptance and gratitude, too, and of realising when you're finally seeing the whole picture constructed from its various parts.
American Samoa's 31–0 loss to Australia in 2001 wasn't the biggest-ever defeat in football history, but it set the world record for the largest trouncing in an international match. It's also the scoreline behind an impassioned quest to achieve something that the US territory in the South Pacific Ocean had never done before in soccer: kick a goal. And, it's the starting point for a documentary and a comedy both called Next Goal Wins, with the first arriving in 2014 and the second now Taika Waititi's eighth feature. Each charts the squad's attempt to qualify for the 2014 FIFA World Cup, and each tells an underdog tale. One strikes charmingly and winningly, the other keeps deserving red cards — and it's Waititi's long-delayed flick, which was initially filmed before the pandemic, underwent reshoots in 2021, then finally premiered at the 2023 Toronto International Film Festival, that shouldn't be on the pitch. Since leaping from New Zealand indies Eagle vs Shark, Boy, What We Do in the Shadows and Hunt for the Wilderpeople to the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Waititi might've won an Oscar for Jojo Rabbit; however, his best post-Thor: Ragnarok work has been on the small screen. Neither Jojo Rabbit nor Thor: Love and Thunder reached the filmmaker's past heights, but the hilarious US TV spinoff of What We Do in the Shadows, sublime Indigenous American dramedy Reservation Dogs and heartwarming pirate rom-com Our Flag Means Death have all proven gems. The current underwhelming cinema streak continues with Next Goal Wins, which is as forceful as his last non-MCU picture in wanting to be a quirky, silly and sweet crowd-pleaser, and as clumsy, awkward and thinly sketched. While new takes on already-covered stories never mean that the originals are binned, sending viewers sprinting towards Mike Brett and Steve Jamison's (On the Morning You Wake (to the End of the World)) iteration of Next Goal Wins can't have been Waititi's intention. The dramatised Next Goal Wins covers the same overall details as its doco predecessor, with American Samoa enlisting Dutch American coach Thomas Rongen to endeavour to help turn their footballing fate around. The Bad News Bears, Slap Shot, The Mighty Ducks and Cool Runnings have just as much influence upon latest spin on the story as reality, though, in an uncomplicated join-the-dots, tick-the-boxes, revel-in-the-tropes and keep-serving-up-montages fashion. Accordingly, whether or not you actually know the specifics — and regardless of your awareness of American Samoa's sporting talents or just soccer in general — you know the path that Waititi's movie follows. So, in comes a down-on-his-luck outsider being given a final shot at success through training and guiding others, and reluctant about it, to whip a ragtag group with potential into shape. Michael Fassbender plays Rongen, finally making his acting return with two roles in the same year — in The Killer and this — after being absent from screens since 2019's X-Men: Dark Phoenix. For audiences Down Under, it has worked out for the best that his hitman turn for David Fincher made it to the big screen first; Fassbender does what he can in Next Goal Wins, but only one person could've made the most of Waititi's material. That figure: the helmer himself, who is the first person seen on-screen, in fact, as a priest welcoming the audience to a story of "whoa" not woe. Fassbender was never going to bend it like Waititi, and he's given a thankless task in being asked to try — including while Next Goal Wins' writer/director (who co-scripts with The Inbetweeners' Iain Morris) gets him quoting Taken. Sent to American Samoa by a soccer board led by his estranged wife Gail (Elisabeth Moss, The Handmaid's Tale) and her new boyfriend Alex (Will Arnett, The Morning Show), rather than given much choice, Rongen sees the gig as a demotion. His response: doing the bare minimum, drinking, being combative and showing such little interest in the team that he may as well not be there. At least his one-note behaviour is grounded in the narrative, albeit with tugging at heartstrings the main aim as more of Rongen's history is slowly revealed. The same can't be said for the film's lack of care about anyone but the imported coach, plus centre back and faʻafafine Jaiyah Saelua (debutant Kaimana). As the first trans woman to play in a World Cup qualifier, the latter, a member of Polynesian society's third gender, should be at the forefront of the movie. That said, she shouldn't simply be the force motivating Rongen to grow up, take his job seriously, and deal with his issues and traumas — and his journey shouldn't involve deadnaming her, then asking about her genitals. Luminous, thoughtful and engaging, Kaimana gives Next Goal Wins' best performance. A better picture would've made Jaiyah its focus, avoided using her as a mechanism to push along Rongen's redemption arc and not left her achievements to postscript, but that isn't Waititi's approach. As such, in a film that heroes not dwelling on what might've been as long as you're giving your all, wondering how this flick could've turned out if more than a cursory effort was evident is another outcome. The cast is there — Oscar Kightley (The Breaker Upperers) gives the second most-memorable performance as Tavita, who leads American Samoa's Football Federation, hosts a popular TV show about who's getting off the plane at the airport and has a son (Beulah Koale, Bad Behaviour) on the squad; Our Flag Means Death's Rhys Darby, David Fane and Rachel House also feature; and even a Hemsworth (Bosch & Rockit's Luke) pops up — but not the willingness to deviate from the easiest game plan. When Next Goal Wins pilfers Taken's "special set of skills" speech early, it's a believe-it moment: believe that embracing cliches while purporting to wink and nod at them is the film's strategy, that is. The Karate Kid and Any Given Sunday also get referenced — and sometimes have lines of dialogue lifted — and Ted Lasso, just with a cantankerous drunk rather than a perennial optimist, provides blatant inspiration. IRL sports figures do indeed glean cues from screens. In Australia in 2001, AFL coach Leigh Matthews famously quoted Predator's "if it bleeds, we can kill it" to stir the Brisbane Lions to an upset win against reigning premiers Essendon, which started a 20-game streak that saw them beat the same team again to claim that year's premiership. All that's sparked in Next Goal Wins is a filmmaker's certainty that an inherently rousing true tale will remain exactly that no matter how cartoonishly and formulaically — including in its sunny visuals — it's presented. Alas, cheering for the American Samoa men's national football team isn't the same as cheering with the latest movie about them.
If you need no excuse to partake in a gin or two, line up your gin-loving pals and your calendar. From Friday, April 12–Saturday, April 13, Collingwood restaurant, cafe, brewery, distillery and workshop The Craft & Co returns with a two-day autumn-inspired edition of its much-loved gin market. Across multiple sessions held in a sit-down format, the market will see some top-notch bottles of gin cracked open in the venue's upstairs event space. Naught, Great Ocean Road Gin, Tiny Bear, West Winds, GinFinity and Westernport Distillery will be a few of the gin labels you can sample as the producers move from table to table, speed-dating-style. And, as always, there'll be a generously stocked retail store where market-goers can snap up bottles of their favourite gins for home. Your $30 ticket includes access to one of the sessions, all of your tastings and a Craft & Co show bag. The eatery and bar downstairs will be operational for a pre- or post-market feed, unless you'd prefer to hunt down some other eats on Smith Street.
Add screaming to the ever-growing list of things that Sydney Sweeney can do spectacularly well. Indeed, thanks to Immaculate, which gets the Euphoria and The White Lotus star putting her pipes to stellar bellowing use, the horror genre has a brand-new queen; long may she reign if this is what audiences have to look forward to. This film about a nun who moves to a convent in the Italian countryside, then mysteriously becomes pregnant without having had sex, isn't just a job for Sweeney. She auditioned for the movie a decade back, it didn't come to fruition, but she strove to make it happen now. She stars. She produces. She enlisted Michael Mohan, who she worked with on Everything Sucks! and The Voyeurs, as its director. The passion that drove her quest to bring Immaculate to viewers is just as apparent in her formidable performance, too, including echoing with feeling — and blistering intensity— when she's shrieking. No one should just be realising now how versatile an actor that Sweeney is. Her portrayal of Sister Cecilia, who found her way to becoming a bride of Christ after a traumatic near-death incident in her younger years, is exactly what the film's title suggests: immaculate. It's also a showcase of a role that requires her to be sweet, dutiful, faithful, ferocious, indefatigable, vengeful and desperate to survive all in the same flick — and she kills it — but adaptability, resourcefulness and displaying a multitude of skills has been her on-screen wheelhouse beyond just one movie. Take Sweeney's last four cinema releases, for instance, all of which hail from 2023–24. Reality, Anyone But You, Madame Web and Immaculate couldn't be more dissimilar to each other, and neither could the actor's parts in them. Throw in her Saturday Night Live hosting stint, and she's firmly at the "is there anything that she isn't capable of?" stage of her career. When the virginal Sister Cecilia arrives in Europe from Detroit, it's on Father Sal Tedeschi's (Álvaro Morte, The Wheel of Time) behest after her home parish closed down. He's patronising in his attitude in-person, however. Before that, customs share the same demeanour when they stop her for not having a return ticket, commenting about whether she looks like a nun. Prior to that, though, Mohan opens Immaculate with another sister (Simona Tabasco, from season two of The White Lotus) having an unholy time of it at My Lady of Sorrows. She attempts to flee, which ends badly. Even her fellow devotees aren't a help. That something sinister awaits Cecilia is hardly a shock, then — and while the setup might seem like nunsploitation 101, or even just the basis of much in the sizeable religious-themed horror canon, Mohan and screenwriter Andrew Lobel (Mysteries Unknown) possess the same willingness to commit that their star beams with from within her tunic and wimple. Their novice's introduction to the abbey flutters through donning the requisite apparel, getting shown around, taking her vows, literally kissing the ring of the bishop overseeing the proceedings and endeavouring to settle into a life of piety where tending to older sisters entering their final days is the main task. In the also-twentysomething Sister Gwen (Benedetta Porcaroli, The Hummingbird), Cecilia finds a friend, luckily, as well as someone who isn't willing to meekly take whatever rules and restrictions are thrust her way. But any sense of routine is short-lived. Carrying a child wasn't Cecilia's plan, obviously. Neither was being grilled about it, then worshipped for it, then controlled because of it, all while sparking envy among some of her fellow nuns. Cecilia is as surprised as anyone, with that jolt evolving from astonishment to distress the more that her belly expands, the convent exerts its sway, and the expecting nun begins both investigating and fighting back. Awash in red hues — in blood, costuming and lighting alike — alongside darkness and shadows, while constantly subverting religious iconography and whipping up a claustrophobic air, Immaculate delivers not only bumps and jumps, but a deeply visceral viewing experience. No one is shy about brutal or gory body horror. Sudden cuts are no stranger, either, but do such a feverish job of plunging the audience into Cecilia's mindset that they prove far more than mere easy scares. Reteaming with familiar talents off-screen, too — such as cinematographer Elisha Christian (The Night House), editor Christian Masini and composer Will Bates (Dumb Money), all veterans of at least The Voyeurs — Mohan fashions the film around sharing his protagonist's inner state in every stylistic touch. With its church setting visibly opulent, yet winding through secret laboratories and dusty catacombs similarly in the plot, production designer Adam Reamer (another The Voyeurs alum, who also has Insidious: The Red Door on his resume) achieves the same feat: My Lady of Sorrows is meant to be the ultimate refuge for Cecilia, but it becomes creepier, more terrifying and more of a trap at every turn. When a movie is this detailed with its aesthetics, and so finely tuned to disturb, it keeps drawing out an instinctive response again and again. As it digs into the power that religion, especially Catholicism, can hold over its adherents — plus the treatment of women and their bodies, including the lack of agency, that theology can inspire — Immaculate also unsettles thematically. These trains of thought aren't new, of course. In the 60s and 70s, the likes of Rosemary's Baby, The Devils and The Exorcist were paving the way for Sweeney and Mohan's third collaboration. Giallo, Italy's brand of lush horror-thrillers that came to prominence at the same time, is clearly and expectedly an influence, and not just via Suspiria. More recently, 2021 nunsploitation Benedetta also says hello. Pivotally, this is a feature made with affection and respect for what precedes it, though, without trying to be anything's second coming. On the lengthy lineup of elements that work stunningly in Immaculate, such as its handling of suspense despite viewers knowing that something wicked is afoot from the get-go, its seductive atmosphere, its bold and wild leaps, and its willingness to get surreal, the film's lead casting is miraculous. It's no wonder that Mohan and Christian adore relaying this tale by staring at Sweeney, and by seeing Cecilia's reactions in her eyes — again, what a range that she can convey. She doesn't solely shine in big moments, of which there's plenty. The tiniest glimmer of fear can say everything when it's written across her peepers. The first burst of life-or-death resolve does the same. And there's nothing more haunting than Immaculate's last two minutes, which demonstrate that rich, raw and riveting performances aren't just a habit for Sweeney — they're a calling.
It's true of every movie: how much you know going in can and does influence the viewing experience. Great films are still great films no matter your prior awareness of their twists, or even just the main premise, but how the audience takes that ride will morph and shift depending on what they're expecting will eventuate. Abigail is a case in point. Why that's so was revealed in its trailer, leaving almost no one sitting down to it in the dark about what's to come. But when the reveal arrives in Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett's fifth full-length directorial effort — and their first after bringing back Ghostface in 2022's Scream and 2023's Scream VI — it's a glorious moment. It's also treated in the flick as a big unveiling, and not just for the picture's characters, in what serves as an overt reminder of how divorced that marketing a movie is to making it. Abigail, aka the tween vampire ballerina film, is still an entertaining time irrespective of your starting knowledge, thankfully. It begins as a blend of a heist affair, horror mansion movie and whodunnit, with a kidnapping skilfully pulled off by a motley crew (is there any other type?), then with holing up in the mastermind's sprawling and eerie safe house with their 12-year-old captive, then with fingers being pointed and their charge toying with them. Bettinelli-Olpin and Gillett are slick with their opening, from breaking into a well-secured estate to avoiding surveillance cameras while speeding through the streets afterwards. They're playful, too, when corralling everyone in their next location — a setup that they've turned into an ace horror watch before in 2019's Ready or Not — and letting suspicions run wild. The six abductors here, as given nicknames Reservoir Dogs-style but with a Rat Pack spin, and told not to divulge their true identities or histories to each other: Joey (Melissa Barrera, Carmen), a recovering addict with medical skills; Frank (Dan Stevens, Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire), who has a background in law enforcement; Rickles (William Catlett, Constellation), an ex-marine; Sammy (Kathryn Newton, Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania), the resident hacker; Peter (Kevin Durand, Pantheon), the dim-witted muscle; and Dean (Angus Cloud, Euphoria), the stoner wheelman. The middleman for their employer: the no-nonsense Lambert (Giancarlo Esposito, The Gentlemen). And the girl: Abigail (Alisha Weir, Wicked Little Letters), of course, who is the daughter of someone obscenely rich and powerful. She's just finished dance rehearsals, is still in her tutu, and proves the picture of scared and unsettled when she's snatched from her bedroom, drugged and blindfolded — until she isn't. Anyone that's seen Ready or Not will spot the commonalities with Abigail, even amid such hefty differences as well. Although this definitely isn't about a newlywed bride being hunted by her wealthy in-laws on her wedding night, it does trap its characters and the bulk of its action in a stately but isolated residence filled with secret hallways and rooms, and in a fight-to-the-death battle where it's evident from the outset that folks are going to get picked off one by one. There's also a strict timeline, and a red-splattered white dress. Abigail heroes a working-class female protagonist who's forced to grow into her role taking on the privileged, sports buckets full of affection for horror old and new, and winks to the past vigorously among its thoroughly modern irreverence. And, in inventive and eye-catching manners — captured this time by cinematographer Aaron Morton, who is having a great 2024 with this and The First Omen — it loves, loves, loves splashing around OTT violence. Radio Silence, the production company that doubles as a brand for Bettinelli-Olpin and Gillett, clearly know this terrain. Working with a script by Stephen Shields (The Hole in the Ground) and Guy Busick (back from Ready or Not, Scream and Scream VI), Abigail's helmers also know how to make the key storytelling move in frightening flicks, and all other types of tales, of ensuring that familiar elements feel fresh when viewers can spy oh-so-much that's recognisable. That's part of the fun of Abigail, including as it becomes a gleefully gory rendering of a Home Alone-esque caper with its namesake stalking the people holding her for a $50-million ransom: seeing how its pieces, drained from elsewhere as they may be, mix and pirouette anew. It's also why the feature's chief reveal should've stayed that way going in, because there's so much else that drinks from overflowing genre cups anyway, while dropping clues from the use of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake onwards about what's in store. A tense crime-film atmosphere to kick off, Agatha Christie nods, quite the child adversary, deranged dances, getting drenched in blood again and again, a The Cabin in the Woods vibe: they're all in a day's work for the film's well-deployed cast, even if not every character runs deep. The screenplay gives its flesh to Joey and Abigail above everyone else, and Barrera — also reuniting with Bettinelli-Olpin and Gillett after their Scream flicks — and Matilda the Musical breakout Weir benefit. Stevens, Catlett, Newton, Durand, Cloud and Esposito might only be asked to hit one real note each in this predator-and-prey monster mash, but they commit to the task. It's a talent-trumps-material scenario, where this group were always going to give their figures more life on the screen than on the page — with Stevens especially having a ball, and Cloud's involvement dishing up a reminder of what the world lost when he passed away in 2023. Abigail isn't just any addition to the vampire fold (on-screen, it also knows what else slumbers in this jam-packed coffin). In 2023, Universal Pictures was similarly behind Renfield and Dracula: Voyage of the Demeter. Before 2024 is out, The Witch, The Lighthouse and The Northman's Robert Eggers will have his own Nosferatu flickering. Finding new ways to rework its Universal Classic Monsters characters and titles — plus the pictures that inspired them, such as unauthorised adaptations of Bram Stoker's Dracula — is one of the studio's current niches, which also applies to The Invisible Man, the upcoming Wolf Man and this. Abigail does it with flair, enthusiasm, humour and literal guts aplenty, and while biting heartily into maximalist flourishes. It might've tasted sweeter if its promotional campaign had been slyer and shyer, but sinking your teeth in remains bloody delicious.
For most filmmakers, Isabel Wilkerson's Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents would've screamed for the documentary treatment. A non-fiction text published in 2020, it works through the thesis that racism in America isn't just the product of xenophobia, but is an example of social stratification. The journalist and author — and, in 1994, Pulitzer Prize-winner — examines how categorising populations into groups with a perceived grading is at the heart of US race relations, and how the same was true in Nazi Germany and still does in the treatment of the Dalit in India. A doco could spring easily from there. If it happens to in the future, no one should be surprised. Ava DuVernay, who brings Wilkerson's prize-winning tome to the screen now, has demonstrated again and again with Selma, The 13th and A Wrinkle in Time that she's not most directors, however. Make the points in Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents via a documentary, if and when that occurs, and they'd be accurate and powerful. Express them through cinema's function as an empathy machine, via personal tales including Wilkerson's own, and they resonate by getting audiences stepping into a range of shoes. Watching isn't merely investigating and learning in Origin, as Wilkerson as a character — played by Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor (The Color Purple) in a phenomenally passionate and thoughtful lead performance — does in a movie that's also a biopic about her life and work. Sitting down to DuVernay's film is all about feeling, understanding what it's like to be a range of people who are forced to grapple with being seen as less than others for no reason but the fact that urge to judge that keeps proving inherent in human nature. Accordingly, viewing Origin means walking in the footsteps of Black teenager Trayvon Martin (Myles Frost, All In) in the US in 2012, when he was shot by a Hispanic man solely for strolling in a white neighbourhood. It means spending time with Black nine-year-old Al Bright (Lennox Simms, Abbott Elementary), who wasn't permitted in a public pool with his white Little League teammates in the 50s. And, it means charting the efforts of Black anthropologists Allison and Elizabeth Davis (Fear the Walking Dead's Isha Blaaker and Blindspotting's Jasmine Cephas Jones), who went undercover with white colleagues Burleigh and Mary Gardner (Doom Patrol's Matthew Zuk and Pain Hustlers' Hannah Pniewski) in Jim Crow-era Mississippi. Their work resulted in Deep South: A Social Anthropological Study of Caste and Class — a book that now sports a forward by Wilkerson. Following Origin's narrative also involves being immersed in the tale of a Jewish woman and German man, August Landmesser (Finn Wittrock, American Horror Story) and Irma Eckler (Victoria Pedretti, You), falling in love in the Third Reich. In a famous photograph from 1936, he's considered to be the lone person not saluting in a Nazi crowd. Origin plunges into reality for a group in India once dubbed "untouchables", too, a title given due to their place in the pecking order. It's a literal term, and one of exclusion and segregation — and it dictates what those deemed at the bottom of the Hindu caste ranks can and can't do and interact with. DuVernay weaves in everything beyond Wilkerson as recreations, making such tales far more tangible and pivotal than mere slices of the past — recent and not-so — providing examples for Caste. In other words, it's one thing to know something or even witness it, and another to feel as if you're experiencing it yourself. That's DuVernay's approach — and it's in line with her focus on Wilkerson, getting Origin's audience empathising not only with everyone in its vignettes, but with her while she's sifting through this history. Sensitive, savvy, sincere, supremely smart: they all describe the way that this film, which its director penned and helmed, is built. DuVernay doesn't ever lose sight of Wilkerson, though, as she pursues her book amid several rounds of loss. Facing individual and societal heartbreak in tandem is also a thread in the feature. So are the echoes that the concept of caste has had on her mother Ruby (Emily Yancy, Sharp Objects), who has lived the reality of avoiding provoking backlash for simply existing — and also on Wilkerson's relationship with her doting husband Brett (Jon Bernthal, The Bear). As a confidant, friend, much-needed support and sounding board, DuVernay includes Isabel's cousin Marion (Niecy Nash-Betts, Never Have I Ever) into her retelling as well. That move gives the film and its protagonist a third tender relationship to navigate, and viewers to identify with. It's also another way that DuVernay expands her long-running push to explore the emotions simmering within Black women, and how they're influenced by the place that they're allowed in the world. Before Selma gave Coretta King prominence alongside her husband, and before A Wrinkle in Time, DuVernay's last non-documentary picture prior to now, charted a Black teen's quest aided by astral travellers, I Will Follow and Middle of Nowhere also traversed this terrain. Indeed, the question with Origin isn't why its director took this path with the material — it's how could she have done anything else? Is Origin ambitious? Bold? Unfailingly intelligent? Lensed with texture and intimacy by Matthew J Lloyd (Spider-Man: Far From Home)? Remarkably acted, especially by Ellis-Taylor, Bernthal and Nash-Betts? A film where feeling deeply is the only response? Does it take a route that no one else would've dreamed of contemplating with Wilkinson, her book, grief, power structures and subjugation? Is it a journey of one woman and of humanity in tandem? DuVernay's movie is all of these things — and it's a chronicle of the jumping-off points and discussions along the way to Caste coming to fruition, such as listening to the 911 call by George Zimmerman, who murdered Martin; having editors (The Nun II's Vera Farmiga and Harlan Coben's Shelter's Stephanie March) ask for her thoughts on it; her romance with Brett; caring for Ruby; chats with Marion; and even talking to a Make America Great Again hat-wearing plumber (Nick Offerman, Dumb Money). Yes, among all of the above, Origin is also a piece of cinema that only DuVernay could've made.
Godzilla is finally an Oscar-winner. It's about time. But the septuagenarian reptile didn't score Hollywood's top trophy for curling up in the Colosseum for a snooze, rocking electric-pink spikes, thundering into Hollow Earth — the world literally within our world where titans spring from — and teaming up with King Kong to take on a rival giant ape that rides an ice-breathing kaiju and uses a skeletal spine as a rope. Japan's exceptional Godzilla Minus One, which took home 2024's Academy Award for Best Visual Effects, wasn't that kind of monster movie. Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire, which hails from the American-made Monsterverse, definitely is. Reaching cinemas in the same month as one of its titular figures received such a coveted filmmaking accolade, this sequel to 2021's Godzilla vs Kong is patently from the goofily entertaining rather than deeply meaningful brand of Godzilla flicks. Yes, there's room for both. It might seem a hard job to follow up one of the best-ever takes on the nuclear-powered creature with an action-adventure-fantasy monster mash that also features a Hawaiian shirt-wearing veterinarian dropping in via helicopter to do dental work on King Kong, the return of the Monsterverse's resident conspiracy-theorist podcaster and a mini Kong called Suko — plus, in its very first minutes, several other animals being ripped apart by Godzilla and Kong. When he took on the gig of helming pictures in this franchise, however, You're Next, The Guest, Blair Witch and Death Note filmmaker Adam Wingard chose fun chaos. His two entries so far aren't dreaming of competing for thoughtfulness with the movies coming out of the country that created Godzilla. Rather, they're made with affection for that entire legacy, and also Kong's, which dates back even further to 1933. Getting audiences relishing the spectacle of this saga is the clear aim, then — and Wingard's attempts put exactly that in their sights above all else. It may also appear difficult for Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire to arrive so swiftly after related streaming series Monarch: Legacy of Monsters achieved a feat that hasn't been easy in the Monsterverse: delivering human drama that leaves an imprint. Godzilla vs Kong couldn't. 2014's Godzilla, 2017's Kong: Skull Island and 2019's Godzilla: King of the Monsters seesawed in their efforts (some admirably, some woefully). The small screen continues to reign supreme, but Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire values its people. There's fewer of them than in its predecessor, with just four at its core. Dumping exposition or acting as comic relief stay among their tasks, respectively, and yet Rebecca Hall (Resurrection) and Brian Tyree Henry (Atlanta) are treated better by the material in their saga comebacks. As the aforementioned monster zoologist, Dan Stevens (Welcome to Chippendales, and also from Wingard's The Guest) knows exactly the type of part and flick he's in; he's the bulk of the film's mood personified. As the orphaned teenager tied to Kong, and similarly cast out from her home as he has been, Kaylee Hottle (Magnum PI) capably remains the feature's human heart on what also becomes a coming-of-age journey. Doing the scripting, Godzilla vs Kong screenwriter Terry Rossio (also The Amazing Maurice), Wingard's regular collaborator Simon Barrett (You're Next, The Guest, Blair Witch), plus Jeremy Slater (Moon Knight) — all working with a story by Rossio, Wingard and Barrett — can't be accused of putting people first in Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire. It's a low bar to say that they don't play as an afterthought, but it's an improvement from the last movie. The storyline's quest: to show how its eponymous beings are managing to co-exist, then must join forces to protect the world. Initially, they're like a divorced couple still sharing the same abode. Godzilla has taken over the planet's surface, while Kong is swinging around in Hollow Earth. The Skar King can't be quickly vanquished, though, requiring their combined might to try to stop his maliciousness wreaking havoc upwards as well as down. Around the simple but welcome Godzilla + Kong = titan siblings-in-arms saviours equation, and before pop culture's biggest lizard and monkey pal around, the humans-driven aspect of the narrative is likewise as straightforward. Kong's troubled tooth, odd signals from below and visions seen by her adopted daughter Jia (Hottle) have Dr Ilene Andrews (Hall) pondering what's happening beneath the planet's crust. Still as obsessive as ever, whistleblower-turned-blogger (and documentarian wannabe) Bernie Hayes (Henry) is one of her ports of call for assistance. The Ace Ventura-esque Trapper (Stevens) is another. Also, Jia's shared time on Skull Island with Kong as one of the landmass' indigenous Iwi tribe, alongside the fact that the teen, who is deaf, can communicate with the simian using sign language, keeps proving relevant. By throwing away the obligation to dig thematically below any surfaces, akin to a beast disposing of the carcass of its last meal — apart from knowing that its namesakes are guardians, and the blunt Jia and Kong connection — Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire revels in animals being animals. Painting Godzilla and Kong empathetically, and as more than fright-inducing monsters, has always been Wingard's angle, even when they were going claw to paw; Andrews is the Jane Goodall of Kong, after all. Here, the movie's main pair are basically towering pets, including while clambering around, snatching some rest, needing medical attention and securing their territory. As the film hops to Cairo, Paris, Gibraltar and Rio de Janeiro as well — and does ample exploring in Hollow Earth, where the Skar King has an army obeying his commands, but Suko sides with Kong — it's no wonder, then, that the good doctor and company are left endeavouring to react and respond as best they can. Cat owners especially can relate. Although Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire's VFX crew likely won't nab the same Oscar as Godzilla Minus One, this CGI-heavy affair has a vibrant look to it. Nothing matches the neon-lit Hong Kong throwdown of Godzilla vs Kong but, amid 80s needle drops, that isn't Wingard's mission. Instead, he enjoys putting iconic landmarks in peril and going all Journey to the Centre of the Earth — and his splashes of pink, purple-topped mountains, crystals, other eye-catching titan and animal designs, and the swirling cinematography by fellow returnee Ben Seresin (The Mother). Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire is the cheese to Godzilla Minus One's chalk, clearly, as it fittingly tells of a chalk-and-cheese twosome, but always eagerly and happily.
Does M Night Shyamalan hate holidays? The twist-loving writer/director's Knock at the Cabin comes hot on the heels of 2021's Old, swapping beach nightmares for woodland terrors. He isn't the only source of on-screen chaos in vacation locations — see also: Triangle of Sadness' Ruben Östlund, plus oh-so-many past horror movies, and TV's The White Lotus and The Resort as well — but making two flicks in a row with that setup is a pattern. For decades since The Sixth Sense made him the Oscar-nominated king of high-concept premises with shock reveals, Shyamalan explored the idea that everything isn't what it seems in our daily lives. Lately, however, he's been finding insidiousness lingering beyond the regular routine, in picturesque spots, when nothing but relaxation is meant to flow. A holiday can't fix all or any ills, he keeps asserting, including in this engaging adaptation of Paul Tremblay's 2018 novel The Cabin at the End of the World. For Eric (Jonathan Groff, The Matrix Resurrections), Andrew (Ben Aldridge, Pennyworth) and their seven-year-old daughter Wen (debutant Kristen Cui), a getaway isn't meant to solve much but a yearning for family time in the forest — and thinking about anyone but themselves while Eric and Andrew don robes, and Wen catches pet grasshoppers, isn't on their agenda. Alas, their rural Pennsylvanian idyll shatters swiftly when the soft-spoken but brawny Leonard (Dave Bautista, Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery) emerges from the trees. He says he wants to be Wen's friend, but he also advises that he's on an important mission. He notes that his task involves the friendly girl and her dads, giving them a hard choice yet also no choice at all. The schoolteacher has colleagues, too: agitated ex-con Redmond (Rupert Grint, Guillermo del Toro's Cabinet of Curiosities), patient nurse Sabrina (Nikki Amuka-Bird, Avenue 5) and nurturing cook Adriane (Abby Quinn, I'm Thinking of Ending Things), all brandishing weapons fashioned from garden tools. When a Shyamalan movie slips into holiday mode, it's more concerned with unpacking revelations than teasing them out Unbreakable-, Signs-, The Village- and The Happening-style. Accordingly, like Old, Knock at the Cabin drops its crucial surprise early. Leonard and company have come a-knocking because they Eric, Andrew and Wen must stave off exactly what Tremblay's book's title promises: the end of the world. All four strangers have experienced unsettling visions leading them to this well-appointed hut, where this very family just happens to be escaping the city, to get its occupants to make a difficult choice. If Wen and her fathers sacrifice one of their number willingly, the apocalypse won't eventuate. If they refuse, first the sea will rise, then a plague will spread, then the sky will fall — then humanity will burn except this chosen three, who'll be forced to watch. What would you do? Shyamalan, taking on a Black List script initially drafted by first-timers Steve Desmond and Michael Sherman, demands that Knock at the Cabin's viewers ask themselves that question. In fact, that query springs several times as the film morphs through multiple horror and thriller situations. What would you do if a gentle giant appeared at your door? If armed attackers stormed your house? If conspiracy-spouting fanatics ordered your allegiance? Yes, Knock at the Cabin is soaked in stranger danger, works as a home-invasion flick and ponders cults. What would you do, too, if you could halt the planet's destruction but at significant cost to yourself? Yes, Knock at the Cabin poses a loaded proposition in these climate change-ravaged and pandemic-afflicted times. Of course, while Tremblay's text predates COVID-19, the movie it inspires needn't ask what'd happen if the earth was crumbling or a disease was decimating swathes of people — we already know. Knowledge is one of Shyamalan's key tools; he's well-aware of the genre boxes he's ticking, and that his audience will spot what he's doing. Leonard's arrival nods to one of the best horror films ever made, after all, and one of the most heartbreaking scenes committed to celluloid — because when there's a towering figure, a flower and a child, James Whale's Frankenstein comes to mind. Knowledge is the source of tension, actually, given that Knock at the Cabin's opening scene and much that follows have played out on screens before. Three things help keep eyes fixed ahead, pulses racing and unease simmering: waiting to see what the kind but quickly concussed Eric, suspicious and homophobia-suspecting Andrew, and sweet and resourceful Wen will indeed do with this prophesy of impending doom; discovering how true, or not, Leonard and company's claims are; and learning if Shyamalan will toy with, twist and subvert everything viewers know has happened in similar fare, or if and where he won't. Knock at the Cabin's creative force gets playful via his lead alone, instantly lacing his movie with unease and uncertainty through Bautista's presence. The heft that's made the wrestler-turned-actor famous, including as Guardians of the Galaxy's Drax the Destroyer, is impossible to avoid — but so is Leonard's polite demeanour, bookish glasses and button-up shirt, each befitting his pre-apocalypse job. Cinematographers Jarin Blaschke (The Northman) and Lowell A Meyer (Servant) repeatedly emphasise Bautista's size, with the film's array of angles frequently framing its literal biggest player to appear as threatening as possible. The actor's portrayal is controlled and restrained, however, which makes for an unnerving contrast. In his most compelling and complex performance yet, Bautista is hypnotic — imposing, ardent, earnest and tender as well — as a man zealously committed yet also visibly pained over what he's doing. Shyamalan certainly doesn't have a casting problem here — Grint keeps flourishing in his projects, as seen in Servant; Groff, Aldridge and Cui make a charming family, even in such tough circumstances; and Amuka-Bird and Quinn invest their characters with heart and sincerity — or any issues sparking interest. He's at the top of his craft, too, with Knock at the Cabin's mix of roving and close-up visuals claustrophobic, disquieting, nimble and handsomely staged all at once. And, while the movie's first two thirds exceed its final act, he's made a mostly single-location affair with as straightforward a plot as he's worked with that's largely gripping. While its questions about what we choose to put our faith in and why are as obvious as one late easy reveal, Knock at the Cabin earns two firm beliefs: in Shyamalan messing with vacations again, and in Bautista at his best.
Weekend coffees deserve to be a little bit more special than the average weekday cuppa — especially if there's a birthday to be celebrated. And soon that'll be the case for Collingwood's Into Coffee, which is turning one and marking the occasion by giving out a bunch of free boozy coffees. From 12–4pm on Saturday, February 11, the minimal-waste cafe will be pouring whiskey-spiked iced lattes — on the house. The concoction is the brainchild of local distillery The Gospel, blending its signature rye spirit with Into Coffee's leftover Industry Bean coffee grinds. You've got a choice of milk, too, with options from Oatly and Schulz Organic Dairy. The drink is pre-blended and poured using the cafe's Udder Way tap and keg system — the same it uses to pour its milk. Sister brand Into Carry — known for its bespoke upcycled creations — will also be running giveaways throughout the day. Nab a golden ticket to score goodies like their cult-fave oat milk carton bags, and exfoliator bars crafted from coffee grinds and surplus milk.
What's charm got to do with it? In What's Love Got to Do with It?, plenty. A rom-com with absolutely nothing to do with Tina Turner, the song that instantly springs to mind or the 1993 biopic about the singer's life, this British affair from the producers of Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill, the Bridget Jones films and Love Actually — and the more-recent Yesterday and Cyrano, too — thrives on the charisma of its leads. It has to. Lily James (Pam & Tommy) and Shazad Latif (Profile) are nicely cast, but they're also all-so-crucially required to help patch over the movie's flagrant formula. Indeed, as penned by journalist-turned-producer-turned-screenwriting first-timer Jemima Khan, and helmed by Elizabeth and Elizabeth: The Golden Age filmmaker Shekhar Kapur, What's Love Got to Do with It? interrogates its own premise in its template-like nature. Is it better to stick to a tried-and-tested route or let surprises reign? In the way it's made and the tale it tells, at least, this flick repeatedly advocates for the former. For documentarian Zoe (James) and oncologist Kazim (Latif), childhood pals, neighbours and each other's first kiss, What's Love Got to Do with It?'s big battle isn't about romantic comedies, of course. And, it certainly isn't about whether the latest entry in the genre should paint by numbers or dare to diverge from the trusty path. But the same conflict underscores Zoe and Kaz's differing approaches to love and marriage, as Zoe is shocked to discover at Kaz's brother Farooq's (Mim Shaikh, Doctors) wedding. That's where the man she's known her whole life announces he's getting hitched, even though he hasn't met someone. Happy to skip the chaos of dating, not fussed with casual hookups, and buoyed by his parents Aisha (Shabana Azmi, Halo) and Zahid's (Jeff Mirza, Eternals) success with arranged nuptials, he's putting his trust in assisted marriage to find someone to share his life with. What's Zoe got to do with Kaz's decision, other than being a friend by his side? There's the glaring answer and then there's how Khan's script keeps her central pair in each other's orbit other than just as mates. As Zoe gets knocked back for funding for her next project, she doesn't blink before suggesting examining assisted marriages in Britain instead. (My Big Fat Arranged Marriage is her producers' dream title.) Kaz is understandably reluctant, but soon Zoe's camera is capturing everything, including the parade of events that her mother Cath (Emma Thompson, Roald Dahl's Matilda the Musical) chats, drinks and dances her way through. Making a doco out of Kaz's quest to tie the knot can't help Zoe avoid her mum's stereotypical pestering about her own romantic prospects, however, complete with setting her up with family vet James (Oliver Chris, Emma). Due to rom-com logic, convention and expectation, there's a dose of My Best Friend's Wedding to What's Love Got to Do with It?, although Zoe doesn't ever try to sabotage Kaz's big day. There's also more than a dash of When Harry Met Sally… to Kapur's first feature in over a decade and a half (other than a segment of New York, I Love You) as Zoe and Kaz constantly discuss their varying ideas about relationships. And, to zero astonishment as well, there's pure and simple obviousness at work. Almost any rom-com focused on these two characters, enlisting these two actors, and benefiting from James and Latif's easy chemistry — and their innate likeability in both parts, especially Toast of London and Toast of Tinseltown's Latif — is going to do exactly what the audience not only wants, but what What's Love Got to Do with It?'s genre has primed them for. Accordingly, the real questions at the heart of What's Love Got to Do with It? aren't whether Kaz's assisted-marriage plan will succeed, or if this is a sensible way to meet one's other half in these always-swiping times. A culture clash comes with the setup, with Kaz's choice hailing from his Pakistani heritage, but diving into what that tradition means for better and for worse is a mere subplot. Rather, the film asks the most straightforward query it or any romantic comedy can or ever does. The specifics vary from flick to flick, but it's the same predicament. Here, it plays out like this: how will employing Muslim matchmaker Mo (Asim Chaudhry, The Sandman), video chatting with law student Maymouna (Sajal Aly, Ishq e laa) and following what happens from there — right through to three days of colourful ceremonies in Lahore, which Zoe records and the excited Cath wouldn't miss for the world — obstruct and complicate Zoe and Kaz's unspoken but plain-as-day feelings for each other? Inevitability drips through every moment of this sunnily shot and cosily staged movie as a result, but thankfully doesn't breed contempt. Again, that's thanks to James, Latif, their engaging performances and their comfortable rapport as What's Love Got to Do with It? embraces being exactly the type of fluffily predictable romantic comedy it is. That said, Khan and Kapur do take risks, but their film ends up worse for it. Although it's an eagerly knowing touch to have a former on-screen Cinderella play a woman who frames her love life as revised fairy tales, those narrated montages — popping up intermittently and told as bedtime stories to children, but echoing over Zoe's bad dates and morning-after regrets — flounder and feel like filler. What's Love Got to Do with It? doesn't judge Zoe's romantic exploits, nor should it, just as it avoids the same with Kaz — but, while it's accepting of amorous mess and assisted marriage alike, it isn't always certain in its tone or thoughtful with its supporting characters. Thompson's role proves an inescapable example, as much of a treasure as the great English actor is (see: her phenomenal work in 2022's Good Luck to You, Leo Grande, plus too many other past parts to count). Instead of exuberant, free-spirited, or even a gleefully silly example of an older generation broadening their world, Cath comes off as one-note and cartoonish. A white woman whose personality is defined by her fixation on another culture was likely to, sadly, in a movie that's fine with skewing broad and affable over shooting for sparks.
Can't stop, addicted to the shindig? Then you'll be excited about the latest huge music tour heading to Melbourne. Get ready to give it away, give it away, give it away now, too — your money, obviously, to see Red Hot Chili Peppers. The Los Angeles-based rockers are bringing their new global stadium tour our way, with Anthony Kiedis, Flea, Chad Smith and John Frusciante singing songs to you beneath the marquee at Marvel Stadium on Tuesday, February 7 and Thursday, February 9. The band's dreams of Californication are zipping around the planet as part of a hefty tour that kicked off in June 2022 in Spain, and also includes stops in London, Paris, Dublin, LA, Chicago, New York and more alongside its Down Under leg. And yes, the Chili Peppers have a record to plug in the process, aka Unlimited Love — their 12th studio album, which dropped back in April last year. [caption id="attachment_859838" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Clara Balzary[/caption] Both Unlimited Love and the tour mark the return of guitarist Frusciante, who left the Chilis back in 2009, then rejoined the band in 2019. And, the tour will see the group head to this part of the world for the first time since 2019, too — and playing plenty of hits from their almost four-decade run so far, obviously. There's a hefty number of songs to choose from. Since their self-titled first EP in 1984, the band has sold more than 80 million albums, won six Grammys and entered the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame. They've also released tracks spanning 'Under the Bridge', 'Scar Tissue', 'Breaking the Girl', 'By the Way' and 'The Zephyr Song', as well as 'Otherside', 'Soul to Squeeze', 'Around the World', 'My Friends' and 'Suck My Kiss'. Red Hot Chili Peppers will be joined Down Under by someone else who's sold just as many records: Post Malone. Yes, it's a two-for-the-price-of-one kind of tour — two massive music names, that is. Post Malone heads our way fresh from releasing his fourth studio album Twelve Carat Toothache in June 2022. Images: Pavel Suslov
Somewhere in the multiverse, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is terrific. In a different realm, it's terrible. Here in our dimension, the 28th film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe teeters and twirls in the middle. The second movie to focus on surgeon-turned-sorcerer Dr Stephen Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch, The Power of the Dog), it's at its best when it embraces everything its director is known for. That said, it's also at its worst when it seems that harnessing Sam Raimi's trademarks — his visual style, bombast, comic tone and Evil Dead background, for instance — is merely another Marvel ploy. Multiverse of Madness is trippy, dark, sports a bleak sense of humour and is as close as the MCU has gotten to horror, all immensely appreciated traits in this sprawling, box office-courting, never-ending franchise. But it stands out for the wrong reasons, too, especially how brazenly it tries to appear as if it's twisting and fracturing the typical MCU template when it definitely isn't. Welcomely weirder than the average superhero flick (although not by too much), but also bluntly calculating: that's Multiverse of Madness, and that's a messy combination. It's apt given its eponymous caped crusader has always hailed from Marvel's looser, goofier and, yes, stranger side since his MCU debut in 2016's plainly titled Doctor Strange; however, it's hard to believe that such formulaic chaos was truly the plan for this follow-up. Similarly, making viewers who've long loved Raimi's work feel like their strings are so obviously being pulled, all for something that hardly takes creative risks, can't have been intentional. It's wonderful that Multiverse of Madness is clearly directed by the filmmaker who gave the world Army of Darkness and its predecessors, the Tobey Maguire-starring Spider-Man movies and Drag Me to Hell. It's fantastic that Raimi is helming his first feature since 2013's Oz the Great and Powerful, of course. But it's also deeply dispiriting to see the filmmaker's flourishes used like attention-grabbing packaging over the same familiar franchise skeleton. Multiverse mayhem also underscored Multiverse of Madness' immediate predecessor, for instance — aka 2021's Spider-Man: No Way Home. That's the last time that audiences saw Stephen Strange, when he reluctantly tinkered with things he shouldn't to help Peter Parker, those actions had consequences and recalling Raimi's time with Spidey came with the territory. Strange's reality-bending trickery has repercussions here as well, because Wanda Maximoff (Elizabeth Olsen, Sorry for Your Loss) isn't thrilled about her fellow super-powered pal's exploits. Yes, Multiverse of Madness assumes viewers have not only watched all 27 past MCU movies, but also its small-screen offshoots — or WandaVision at least, where the enchantress that's also Scarlet Witch broke rules herself and wasn't still deemed a hero. Multiverse of Madness begins before its namesake and Wanda cross paths after their not-so-smooth moves, actually. Strange's latest escapade kicks off with monsters, moving platforms, a shimmering book, and a girl he doesn't know and yet wants to save. It's a dream, but said teen — America Chavez (Xochitl Gomez, The Babysitters Club) — is soon part of his waking life. Hailing from another dimension and possessing the ability to hop through the multiverse, she's still being chased. Interrupting Strange's brooding at his ex-girlfriend Christine's (Rachel McAdams, Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga) wedding, rampaging critters reappear as well, while a sinister tome called The Dark Hold also factors in. The mission: save the girl and all possible worlds, aided by Strange's old friend and now-Sorcerer Supreme Wong (Benedict Wong, Nine Days), and via a run-in with nemesis Mordo (Chiwetel Ejiofor, Locked Down). An evil book, basically being dragged to hell, reanimated corpses, a scrappy young adventurer, wisecracks, a leading man with the initials BC: they're all Raimi staples, and they're all accounted for in Multiverse of Madness. So is a signature casting move that's to be thoroughly expected, and remains as delightful as ever. Michael Waldron, the writer/producer behind Loki, has scripted the feature with its filmmaker firmly in mind — or tinkered with the screenplay after OG Doctor Strange helmer Scott Derrickson left the sequel — and Raimi has taken those nods and run with them. But magic isn't about conjuring up the easily apparent, as the flick's cloak-wearing protagonist has learned over his time. Off-screen, that's something Marvel rather than its creatives-for-hire need reminding of, and what makes Multiverse of Madness a strategic exercise above all else. (It doesn't help that an inventive, clever and bold blast of multiverse movie, unrelated to the MCU, has beaten the latest Doctor Strange to cinemas by mere weeks. Everything Everywhere All At Once is inescapably chaotic, but gloriously, entertainingly and revealingly so, and never in a checklist-marking way.) Marvel has a pattern, though. It hires directors with distinctive styles and vibes, uses them to differentiate any given MCU instalment from the last, and hopes that counteracts the formula at work. And, it can. Even this many pictures in, great films eventuate that don't completely feel squeezed through an assembly line in every frame; see: Taika Waititi's Thor: Ragnarok, Ryan Coogler's Black Panther, Cate Shortland's Black Widow and Chloé Zhao's Eternals. If Multiverse of Madness wasn't also saddled with other well-used, patently recognisable Marvel tactics, that might've proven true here, too. If only it had. But when a new MCU entry leans on multiple versions of its main figure (again), plus wholly fan-servicing cameos (again) — going for more is more several times over (yes, again) — and then attempts to freshen itself up by splashing around a famed director's beloved touches (again), it's always going to struggle to be convincing. Gleefully pushing obvious buttons and trying to incite easy cheers was No Way Home's main aim as well; Multiverse of Madness fares better, thankfully. It's a lesser auteur-helmed MCU movie and a lesser Raimi-directed film, but it still benefits from the latter doing what he's able to within company-controlled confines. Danny Elfman's (The Woman in the Window) moody score always sets the right tone, and the kaleidoscopic imagery has its dazzling moments — albeit with too many pixels showing in the name of serving up a shiny spectacle. And, in all of its key roles, Multiverse of Madness is still extremely well-cast. Indeed, the scenes that linger are those shared by Cumberbatch with either Olsen, McAdams, Wong or Gomez that call for genuine emotion rather than dwelling on superhero schtick, nefarious villains, multiverse mechanics, incursions, surprise guests and the like. Alas, being gifted more of that, and more of anything that doesn't have to tick 75,000 of Marvel's usual boxes along the way, sadly and frustratingly isn't a reality for this film in our caped crusader-worshipping universe.
Once a year, Monster Fest treats cinemagoers to a weird and wonderful film festival filled with genre and cult movies — but that's obviously not often enough. So, behold Monster Fest Weekender, aka the fest that the Monster team hosts midyear when it's not rolling out the full shindig. Hitting Melbourne's Cinema Nova from Friday, May 6–Sunday, May 8, this three-day affair will screen the films you can't wait till later in the year to see — such as Sundance oddity Hatching, a body-horror flick about a girl nursing an egg; Dark Glasses, the latest big-screen release from original Suspiria director and all-round horror master Dario Argento; and monster- and OTT scientist-filled stop-motion effort Mad God. Other highlights: a 35th-anniversary session of Miami Connection, a cult martial arts movie that really has to be seen to be believed; documentary The History of Metal and Horror, which spans everyone from Alice Cooper to John Carpenter; a 4K restoration of 1985's Cat's Eye, a Stephen King adaptation starring a very young Drew Barrymore; and Pennywise: The Story of It, which takes a making-of look at the Tim Curry-starring TV miniseries that first brought the creepy clown to screens.
All of the kitchen staples, none of the excessive packaging: that's what's on offer at Mount Zero Olives' returning Zero Waste Warehouse Market. MZO is teaming up with a range of small businesses for another event that's all about encouraging sustainable consumption — and this one just happens to fall during Plastic Free July. Here, you can shop a range of products without the unnecessary plastic, with products also available to buy in bulk if you're stocking up for the chilly months. It's all going down from 9am–2pm on Saturday, July 30, at MZO's Sunshine West HQ. As the name suggests, you'll need to bring your own reusable containers with you to carry your haul. 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 Koji & Co's miso and shio koji, and Market Lane's carbon-neutral filter coffee for your morning cuppa. This time around, MZO will also be running a hands-on Extra Virgin Olive Oil Taste & Blend Workshop, where you'll learn the ins and outs of olive oil and score a bottle of your own to take home. Tickets to the class are $20, available online.
