Minimise the impact that your noodle-slurping habits have on the environment, all thanks to a nifty project by Tokyo Tina and the rest of its Commune Group siblings. Popping up at the Windsor restaurant from Monday, March 27–Wednesday, March 29 is the Rubbish Ramen Shop — an experimental Melbourne Food & Wine Festival offering that's here to shake up the soup game. Book one of the six dinner sittings and head along to enjoy a ramen feast with a low-waste twist. Senior Chef Enza Sotto has dreamed up two limited-edition, sustainability-focused ramen varieties, which are made using unwanted produce collected from across the hospitality group's eateries — think: Moonhouse, Firebird and New Quarter. Ingredients that would otherwise be destined for landfill will be cleverly transformed into your midweek Japanese feed. You can nab a ticket to the pop-up for $48, which includes your choice of ramen bowl, a snack, and either a cup of sake or a beer to match. Images: Carmen Zammit.
Bridge Road Brewers' Brunswick East taphouse is turning one this September, and the team is celebrating with a massive Sunday sesh party. On Sunday, September 22, the crew will fire up an outdoor grill (let's hope for good springtime weather), host a bunch of local DJs and give away free pints of its Village Pilsner — its signature beer that's brewed on-site. Sadly, these free pints won't be free-flowing throughout the entire day, so be sure to get in early before they start charging. Founder Ben Kraus shared, "We're excited to see the progress since opening and how the East Brunswick community has really embraced us in our first year. We've built a local run club that is 1,000 strong, regularly getting up to 100 members at our Wednesday night meets. "We've had great interest in our local ride club and Merri-creek clean-up sessions, plus we're now branching into other areas by hosting a monthly vintage market to support local vendors."
Anthony Bourdain once said, "Too lazy to peel fresh? You don't deserve to eat garlic." Honestly, it's hard to disagree, as this versatile kitchen staple takes just about any meal from good to great. If you're keen to explore the best of Australia's local growers, the South Gippsland Garlic Festival is the place to be. Held on Saturday, March 8 in Korumburra – about 90 minutes drive from Melbourne – this is your chance to head home with a boot full of incredible produce. Forming part of the festival, a sprawling market will feature 80 stallholders spruiking an exceptional range of fresh garlic and garlic-related products. Also in attendance will be local fruit and veggie producers, food vendors and coffeemakers, ensuring plenty of top-notch cuisine accompanies your visit. Once you've stocked up, head to the Garlic Festival Bar to encounter much-loved Gippsland winemakers, brewers, and distillers, such as Fleet Wines, Gurneys Cider, Burra Brewing and Mates Gin. Then, the Garlic Festival Kitchen sees former MasterChef contestant Simon Toohey welcome esteemed chefs, including Messmates Dining's Jodie Odrowaz and Michael Clarke, for live cooking demonstrations that hero the headline ingredient. Meanwhile, there are kids' activities – including a visit from Bluey – and a host of live entertainment to make this aromatic event fun for everyone. When you've finished exploring the festival grounds, the rest of Korumburra is also getting in the mood, with nearby restaurants, pubs, cafes and bakeries offering one-off treats to garlic-loving punters. [caption id="attachment_992308" align="alignnone" width="1024"] Credit: Ken Spence[/caption] Top image: Ken Spence
If you've spent any time partying in the inner north, there's a good chance you've enjoyed a few boozy nights in the Dr Morse beer garden. But with the venue undergoing a major revamp for its 12th birthday, the arrival of Bistro Disco – a New York-style Italian eatery – is more than enough reason to plan your next visit. With the bar stepping into a new era through a refreshed fit-out and menu, the idea behind the change is found within the venue's motto: "drink, dinner, dance." While Dr Morse's owners felt they had the last part covered, they believed it was time to give the other aspects more attention. The result? Quality pasta dishes, steak mains and an extended wine and cocktail list. With the renovations recently completed, a three-day celebration runs from Friday, February 28 to Sunday, March 2, featuring a stellar lineup of DJs. Get down on Friday for sets from Nice Girl, Dawn Again & Nick Saw, Sunset Boys and Earl Grey, while Saturday welcomes Disko Bizarro and Disco Mediterranea. Finally, Sunday wraps the event with appearances from Steely Anne, Otologic and Billie Jean. "This isn't about leaving the past behind; it's about creating a new future where the drinking and dining is on par with the dance floor," says co-owner Pete Walsh. "Now we've created a space where guests can enjoy a cocktail, savour plates of pasta, and stick around for a boogie."
If you're craving some Bridgerton-esque charm in your life, Mary Eats Cake will host its first Scone Festival this June, offering a month-long celebration of both sweet and savoury bites. Each week from Saturday, June 1–Sunday, June 30, Mary Eats Cake will introduce a new and exciting scone flavour, such as decadent double chocolate, Italiano pizza, pumpkin spice and jalapeño popper. Guests can drop in to the Montrose or Brunswick venues to try the weekly flavour, or book in for a high tea experience with bottomless festival scones. For more details about the Scone Festival at Mary Eats Cake and to book your spot, visit the official website.
Maggie's Snacks and Liquor landed on the Brunswick East end of Lygon Street at the end of 2023, and is already kicking goals with its creative eats, Sunday roast specials and aperitivo hour deals. And now, for World Gin Day on Saturday, June 8, the team is hosting a one-off gin- and snack-filled party in collaboration with Mordialloc's Saint Felix Distillery. Saint Felix's Head Distiller Xavier Nalty will be running gin tastings with his colleague Kevin Griffin from 2pm, taking guests through all four of their distillations. The duo will talk to guests about gin-making and answer all your burning gin-related questions, while the Maggie's crew pairs each tipple with a snack. The two-hour tasting and talk costs $30 per person, plus guests will also get $10 off Saint Felix products to purchase on the day or have delivered with free shipping. Maggie's is also teaming up with Drink Victoria throughout June, showcasing a heap of local wine, beer and spirits. Consider sticking around to make a proper Saturday arvo sesh out of it all.
Spice Temple's coveted mud crabs are back — but only until the end of June. If you've been dreaming of this share-focused special's return or simply have been seeking out a mud crab dish to get in on the hype, here's your chance. Due to popular demand, the top-shelf in-season crustacean has made its way back onto the menu for a limited time, and is prepared to order for $99. Until Sunday, June 30, you'll be able to order a hefty mud crab that's steamed, then tossed in a flavour-packed mixture sure to warm up bellies and accompanied by your choice of XO, ginger and shallot, or black bean and salted chilli sauces. With chef Andy Evans at the helm, the venue's ethos remains at the forefront of its menu, with only the best mud crabs selected and dished up. Image credit: Jason Loucas.
Unfortunately, the Winter Gin Market has been cancelled by The Craft & Co crew due to unforeseen scheduled power upgrades on-site. We're sure they'll be back again next season for another go at it. If you need no excuse to partake in a gin or two, line up your gin-loving pals and clear your calendar. On Friday, July 26 and Saturday, July 27, Collingwood restaurant, cafe, brewery, distillery and workshop The Craft & Co returns with a two-day winter-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. You can sample gins from Artillery, Boatrocker, Tiny Bear, Bass & Flinders, Brookie's and The Craft & Co as the producers move from table to table, speed-dating style. As always, a generously stocked retail store will be available for market-goers to purchase bottles of their favourite gins for home. Your $30 ticket includes access to your choice of one of the two-hour sessions, all of your tastings and a goodie bag. The eatery and bar downstairs will be operational for a pre- or post-market feed, but you'll need to book ahead for a spot.
Even though we're on the other side of the world, Melbourne still hosts plenty of big Fourth of July parties every year. US-style barbecue joints, pizza shops and diners all run specials and events, but new kid on the block Moon Dog Wild West is, dare we say it, trumping them all this year. This three-storey wild west-themed saloon is already heavy on the Americana, from the blues band playing each night and its free-to-ride bucking bull, to the Tex-Mex eats and Jack Daniels slushies. But on Thursday, July 4, Moon Dog Wild West will become even more American. The Headhunters will be playing classic sing-along tunes from 7pm, plus there'll even be a hot dog eating competition — you really can't get more American than that. There'll be a couple of food and drink specials available for the day, including The Americano Plate, which is loaded with smoked beef brisket, pulled barbecued pork, spiced chicken wings, smoked jalapeño and cheddar sausage, biscuits and gravy, house pickles, corn on the cob and coleslaw. A classic pumpkin pie will also be up for grabs — that is, if you have room after scoffing down that platter of meat — while Cajun-style boiled peanuts will be served up for free. Moon Dog Wild West's Fourth of July party is free to attend and walk-ins are welcome, but you can also book a table online to ensure you don't miss out on the fun.
Sydney Sweeney is ready for her closeup. Playwright-turned-filmmaker Tina Satter obliges. A household name of late due to her exceptional work in both Euphoria and The White Lotus, Sweeney has earned the camera's attention for over a decade; however, she's never been peered at with the unflinching intensity of Satter's debut feature Reality. For much of this short, sharp and stunning docudrama, the film's star lingers within the frame. Plenty of the movie's 83-minute running time devotes its focus to her face, staring intimately and scrutinising what it sees. Within Reality's stranger-than-fiction narrative, that imagery spies a US Air Force veteran and National Security Agency translator in her mid-twenties, on what she thought was an ordinary Saturday. It's June 3, 2017, with the picture's protagonist returning from buying groceries to find FBI agents awaiting at her rented Augusta, Georgia home, then accusing her of "the possible mishandling of classified information". Reality spots a woman facing grave charges, a suspect under interrogation and a whistleblower whose fate is already known to the world. It provides a thriller of a procedural with agents, questions, allegations and arrests; an informer saga that cuts to the heart of 21st-century American politics, and its specific chaos since 2016; and an impossible-to-shake tragedy about how authority savagely responds to being held to account. Bringing her stage production Is This a Room: Reality Winner Verbatim Transcription to the screen after it wowed off-Broadway and then Broadway, Satter dedicates Reality's bulk to that one day and those anxious minutes, unfurling in close to real time — but, pivotally, it kicks off three weeks earlier with its namesake at work while Fox News plays around her office. Why would someone leak to the media a restricted NSA report about Russian interference in getting Donald Trump elected? Before it recreates the words genuinely spoken between its eponymous figure and law enforcement, Reality sees the answer as well. Reality Winner boasted a moniker that no one would forget long before the events that she'd make international headlines for, and have inspired a play and now a film. Still, she couldn't have suspected, nor her father who gave it to her, that so many folks would learn who she was and what she's called — or why they'd do so. Satter's movie is in dialogue with its subject's distinctive name. It surveys Reality and reality by using reality, and it observes no winners. There's also no escaping the fact that reality is both precarious and subjective when it comes to Winner's deeds and others like them: Trump has been indicted for mishandling classified documents himself, with boxes of them found in his Mar-a-Lago home, but the likelihood of his penalty eclipsing the longest-ever sentence given by a US federal court for releasing government information is miniscule. Everything is average, standard and nondescript when Winner (Sweeney, also a Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and The Handmaid's Tale alum) pulls up outside of her house to discover an audience. Satter scripts with James Paul Dallas (Halston's archival producer), enlisting Paul Yee (Joy Ride) as Reality's cinematographer, plus Jennifer Vecchiarello (Thor: Love and Thunder) and Ron Dulin (Resurrection) as editors — and, before agents Garrick (Josh Hamilton, The Walking Dead) and Taylor (Marchánt Davis, A Journal for Jordan) start talking, the scene that the film spins, sees and splices couldn't appear more commonplace. The daytime sunlight streaming down doesn't brighten. Winner's brick abode could sit on any block almost anywhere. She's sans makeup, wearing a white shirt and cutoffs that she wouldn't have thought twice about. And, once the chatting begins, peppered as it is with routine small talk, it too is mundane. Is Winner thirsty? What's the best way to handle her rescue dog? Will her cat bolt if the door is left open? Is there somewhere private, away from the other agents executing search warrants for her house, car and phone, where the trio can head to? These details comprise much of the early conversation, as laced with ums, aahs and awkward pauses. With no disrespect to the best screenwriters — the best at procedurals, too — every word and gap in Reality could've only sprung from real life. And there are purposeful holes, thanks to part of the chat remaining redacted in the publicly released transcripts that Satter works with. Her inventive and perceptive solution: glitching in and out, having the people affected disappear and reappear, and reminding audiences oh-so-savvily that every single take on reality is always just that, a take, and should always be inspected and unpacked. With talk echoing — especially in a room that Winner doesn't usually use, describes as "weird" and "creepy", and looks as close as a space in someone's home can to a prison cell — Reality steps through why the agents are there, what they're chasing, their suspect's tale and her reaction. As crucial as words are to the film, and the exact words uttered off-screen at that, they only tell part of the story. They explain that Winner can speak Farsi, Pashto and Dari; aspires to be deployed to Afghanistan; trains in CrossFit and teaches yoga; and owns guns, including a pink AR-15. They establish Garrick as playing the nice guy among the FBI cohort, and Taylor as affable but sterner. They eventually lay out what Winner is accused of doing, and how. Satter witnesses what isn't spoken, though, such as the rigid physicality that sits in stark contrast to the agents' warmer tone — and the displays of force that are everywhere, simply because the FBI is everywhere, when Winner is permitted to squeeze into her kitchen to put her perishables away. As every meticulously calculated stylistic choice ramps up the stress, Nathan Micay's (Industry) jittery score among them — and as Sweeney delivers a phenomenal masterclass in microexpressions that's a career-best performance to-date — Reality spots a gut-punch of an inescapable truth as well. We hope, think and are led to believe, aided by movies and TV shows, that significant instances and incidents feel significant; and yet big moments aren't actually always big moments, even when whistleblowing, revealing state secrets and the legal response are involved. Indeed, the movie's ripped-from-reality look and dialogue, plus its central naturalistic performance, are all calibrated to reinforce that sometimes life changes drastically when nothing huge initially seems to. Winner's existence was forever altered by the scenes that Satter displays, but Reality knows that no one was shouting and screaming that that was the case as it occurred. More than that, and with gripping chills and dripping dread, it puts viewers in Winner's shoes as her world turns — and ours — but the world keeps turning.
Cue John Williams' rousing score: Indiana Jones is cracking the whip again. Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny marks Harrison Ford's return to the titular role a whopping 42 years after Raiders of the Lost Ark, 39 since Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom and 34 since Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade — and 15 years after Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull. This time, he has Fleabag favourite Phoebe Waller-Bridge for company, but still a trinket to hunt down and Nazis to fend off. And, whether you're keen to see the movie on the day it hits general release or in the nights afterwards, your tastebuds can also have company via a three-course menu inspired by the picture. That's what Village Cinemas is serving up around Melbourne on three evenings: Wednesday, June 28; Friday, June 30; and Saturday, July 1. For $120, which includes your Gold Class ticket to the film, you'll tuck into bites with New York, Moroccan and Sicilian influences — all settings in the movie. Start off a pretzel with honey mustard, washing it down with either a glass of sparkling wine or Brooklyn lager. Next comes a New Moroccan grilled spiced chicken burger with chips, plus a glass of either red or white wine. And then for dessert, enjoy chocolate and custard cannoli, all while sipping either a Sicilian negroni or an Aperol spritz.
If you're a devourer of books and words, you can look forward to feasting on a hefty lineup of talks, workshops, panels and other literature-loving events when the Emerging Writers' Festival returns for 2023. While the days of all-digital instalments are behind us, the fest won't just be hosting a jam-packed program of IRL sessions — handily, especially for folks outside of Melbourne, a stack of them will also be accessible online. Running from Wednesday, June 14–Saturday, June 24, this year's edition has events for all varieties of lit-lover and writing enthusiast. Opening night features a session on truth telling by Naarm's Sofii Belling-Harding, Yaraan Bundle, Lay Maloney, Patrick Mercer and Elijah Money; the return of the National Writers' Conference will deliver a day of panels, workshops and pitching sessions; Voiceworks will celebrate its latest issue; and a dinner at Willows and Wine will get you sharing erotica prose and poetry. For fans of all things spooky, Scream Scenes will tell eerie tales with matching cinema projections at Thornbury Picture House. Sports writing, spoken word, writing TV, intergenerational stories, radical memoirs, the intersection of hip hop and literature: they all get their time to shine, too. You can also up your own writing skills with an array of masterclasses and workshops — and, for the online crowd, learn about digital ecologies, the ethics of drawing from real life, pitching, researching fiction, genre fiction and more.
If DC Studios could live life like it's a Cher song, would it turn back time to erase the DC Extended Universe, setting itself on an entirely different path instead? With new co-head honchos James Gunn and Peter Safran wrapping up the underwhelming franchise — after 2023's films, The Suicide Squad director and producer are replacing the DC Comics on-screen realm with a new movie saga just called the DC Universe — the answer is likely yes. Does DC Studios regret having to release The Flash, which gives the character played by Ezra Miller since 2016's Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice his own feature, arrives after their past few years of controversies and legal troubles, and comes with a jumping-backwards focus? It must've been better for the bottom line to let the picture flicker before audiences, rather than ditching it after it was finished as happened with Batgirl; however, the response there about lamenting Barry Allen's latest big-screen stint might also be in the affirmative. As was the case with Shazam! Fury of the Gods, and could also be with the DCEU's upcoming Blue Beetle and Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom, a feeling of futility buzzes through The Flash. Plenty happens, featuring an array of caped crusaders and more than one version of Barry, and yet all that tights-wearing sound and fury might signify nothing in the scheme of all things DC. Movies have never needed sequels or franchises to gift their existence a spark. Increasingly, the opposite occurs. Instalment after instalment in ever-sprawling cinema universes are dragged down by being exactly that: a series instalment, rather than their own films. And The Flash does frequently try to be its own feature, but it's also firmly tied to being part of a pop-culture behemoth while eagerly worshipping superhero history. The blatant and overdone nostalgia, the already-announced returns and still-surprise cameos, and the now-overused multiverse setup that assists in linking its narrative together — it all rings empty when it proves so disposable, as the dying DCEU is. Living with your choices, and facing the fact that you can't always take back mistakes and fix traumas, does fittingly sit at the heart of The Flash's narrative, though. While the Barry (Miller, Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore) that audiences have also seen in Suicide Squad, Justice League and Shazam! enters The Flash calling himself "the janitor of the Justice League", answering Alfred's (Jeremy Irons, House of Gucci) calls to clean up Batman's (Ben Affleck, Air) chaos offers a handy distraction from his family situation. Understandably, he's still grief-stricken over his mother's (Maribel Verdú, Raymond & Ray) murder. He's also struggling to prove that his incarcerated father (Ron Livingston, A Million Little Things) wasn't the killer. Cue messing with the space-time continuum, using his super speed to dash backwards to stop his mum from dying — and, as Bruce Wayne warns, cuing the butterfly effect. Back to the Future devotees know what follows when someone tinkers with the past. The Flash director Andy Muschietti (IT, IT: Chapter Two) and screenwriter Christina Hodson (Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn)) count on viewers being familiar with the consequences, and with the Michael J Fox-starring 80s classic. Amid navigating various iterations of its protagonist and, as revealed in its trailers, getting Michael Keaton (Morbius) back in the cape and cowl as the Dark Knight three decades after the last Tim Burton-helmed Batman flick — plus finding time for Supergirl (Sasha Calle, The Young and the Restless) — this DCEU entry splashes around its broader pop-culture nods with gusto. Given that was Gunn's tactic in Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy movies, right down to also mentioning Kevin Bacon and Footloose, perhaps Barry might have a DCU future after all? Whatever happens, The Flash's riffing on and namechecking other beloved films isn't its best trait. There are multiples of much in this movie, which includes multiple ways to slather on fan service. Virtually retracing Marty McFly's footsteps involves that extra Barry, the younger and more OTT of the two — the one aiding the OG Barry in seeing why people can find him a bit much, in fact. It also inspires the comeback of Superman's Kryptonian foe General Zod (Michael Shannon, George & Tammy), as the events of Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice ripple through an alternate timeline. Yes, every superhero saga has become a multiverse saga, everywhere and all at once. The Marvel Cinematic Universe keeps leaning in, while the Spider-Verse films embrace the idea in every gorgeously animated frame. Reuniting with a past Batman was always going to play like a Spider-Man: No Way Home wannabe, but The Flash isn't helped by hitting cinemas so soon after Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, aka the current gold standard in multiple everything, spandex-clad saviours in general and franchise fare. It was true when Tobey Maguire, Andrew Garfield and Tom Holland were all webslinging in the one film, and it's true now with Affleck and Keaton being oh-so-serious here: teaming up past and present takes on the same figure in the same feature can smack of refusing to cut ties with history. That's what nostalgia is all about, of course, and it clashes glaringly with what The Flash endeavours to teach its red-suited namesake. As Barry attempts to protect, nurture and heal his inner child — rather literally — the movie advocates for ultimately accepting life's hardships and moving on. Then it has more and more recognisable faces pop up, including some grave-robbing choices using woeful special effects. With its routine fan-baiting multiverse antics, the picture keeps finding additional ways to ring empty. A film that adores all that's gone before, but exists in the waning days of a dissipating saga. A feature with little future path and too much fondness for the past. A reminder that life goes on that epitomises that very fact within the movie business, yet can't live and breathe it within its frames even as its narrative sings that notion's praises. That's The Flash — and it's also a picture made better by Miller's convincing dual turns, especially when they're at their most vulnerable and melancholy, and particularly when they're on-screen twice in the same scene. It benefits from Keaton's subtlety in an appearance that's anything but within the story, and from Muschietti's eagerness to amuse through the flick's strongest action scenes, as seen in quite the baby shower. Pondering playing god and its repercussions, it also owes a debt to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, as almost everything does. Feeling like disparate pieces that don't stitch together to make the best whole isn't what The Flash was aiming for, however, but it's what's been zapped into cinemas.
Get ready to ring in the winter solstice in a giant thermal pool with a glass of mulled wine in one hand and a blanket of stars overhead. Alba Thermal Springs is running a limited-edition twilight program to celebrate the solstice, as well as World Bathing Day on June 22. The Winter Warming program runs from June 22 to July 31, but it's that first night that's set to be really special. Alba is teaming up with the Astronomical Society of Victoria to host an exclusive, once-off stargazing session. The event starts at 5pm with a Welcome to Country. Your ticket gets you access to Alba's 22 thermal pools, a glass of mulled wine or decadent hot chocolate, plus an all-new winter menu designed by the legendary Karen Martini. Martini will also be there in attendance on June 22, if you want a chance to gush and chat recipes. At 6pm, the main event begins: a special stargazing session at the Luna Pool, hosted by the Astronomical Society of Victoria. So what will night bathing, good food and an entire galaxy set you back? The $80 'Night Owl' package gets you entry, bathing, wine and a canape by the open fire. For the $100 'Dinner Thyme', they'll throw in a one-course meal. Bookings are essential for this one, and spots are limited. Images: Supplied
You climb the stairs to the rarely seen, abandoned rooms at the top of Flinders Street Station and push open the door. Inside is Shadow Spirits, the largest commissioned exhibition of contemporary First Peoples art in Victoria's history. Shadow Spirits is part of Melbourne's RISING festival for 2023, presented in partnership with Metro Trains, and it's been curated by leading Yorta Yorta curator and writer, Kimberley Moulton. Showcases like this don't come along very often. It's a chance to see 30 of the most exciting First Nations artists and collectives from across Australia, all in the one decked-out event space. According to RISING's brochure, Shadow Spirits "invites visitors to traverse time and Ancestral spirit worlds, reflect on the shadows of Australia's history, and be immersed in deep systems of knowledge". If you're going to make time for one RISING activation this year, Shadow Spirits should be top of your list. The exhibition will be running from June 7 to June 18, then kicking off again from June 21 to July 30. Tickets start at $18, and you'll have a full 75 minutes to soak up the magic. We highly recommend going after dark, if possible. It really adds to the atmosphere. Images: Supplied.
So, you manage to keep yourself pretty well entertained between the wine festivals, gallery exhibitions and bottomless brunches. But what about that four-legged mate of yours? Well, you'd better clear his or her schedule too, because this OTT pop-up doggy theme park is descending on Melbourne once again for its second iteration. This winter on Saturday, August 12 at Port Melbourne Industrial Centre for the Arts (PICA), Theme Bark promises the dog's day out your pooch has been dreaming of all their life. So just what can Luna expect from this paw-some puppy playground? Well, there'll be a big ball pit playpen, complete with slide, and a giant obstacle course for ducking, diving and clamouring around in a floofy cloud of ecstasy. Talented pooches can try their luck in the Pup Pageant or the Doggy Dash, while the afternoon's dog yoga sessions promise to fill up fast. Meanwhile, the pop-up Barkery Lane market will have retailers slinging everything from dog accessories to toys, plus, they'll be puppacinos and pooch-friendly ice-creams for your bestie. Images: supplied.
Spring, plus light- to medium-bodied red wine: what a pairing. It's the duo that not only sits at the heart of Australian wine-tasting festival Pinot Palooza, but has helped the vino-swilling event become such a hit. The weather is sunny, the tipples are heady, and sipping your way through a heap of the latter is on the menu — including in 2023. The Melbourne-born wine tasting festival will celebrate its 11th year by touring the country, including hitting up The Timber Yard in Port Melbourne from Friday, October 27–Saturday, October 28. This two-day affair filled with vino-sipping fun will cover organic, biodynamic, vegan and low-intervention wines, and more, as well as bites to line the stomach. In its decade of life until now, the fest has welcomed in thousands of vino lovers. Indeed, an estimated 65,000 tickets were sold globally before its 2022 events. When COVID-19 hit in 2020, the popular celebration was shelved for two-and-a-half years, before making a comeback last year. The response? More than 12,000 folks heading along around the nation. Set to share their tipples among producers from Australia, New Zealand and further afield: New Zealand's Burn Cottage and CHARTERIS; Small Island, Ghost Rock and Meadowbank from Tasmania; M&J Becker from NSW and Moondarra from Victoria. The food lineup will feature cheese, salumi, terrines, patê, olives and other perfect vino accompaniments, with Tasmania's Grandvewe Cheese and Victoria's Mount Zero among the suppliers.
In 2016, a French documentarian with Senegalese heritage attended the trial of a Senegalese French PhD student who confessed to killing her 15-month-old daughter, who was fathered by a white partner, by leaving her on the beach to the mercy of the waves at Berck-sur-Mer. The filmmaker was fixated. She describes it as an "unspeakable obsession". She was haunted by questions about motherhood, too — her mum's and her own, given that she was a young mother herself as she sat in the courtroom. That story is the story of how Saint Omer came to be, and also almost exactly the tale that the piercing drama tells. In her first narrative film after docos We and La Permanence, writer/director Alice Diop focuses on a French author and literature professor with a Senegalese background who bears witness to a trial with the same details, also of a Senegalese French woman, for the same crime. Saint Omer's protagonist shares other traits with Diop as she observes, too, and watches and listens to research a book. A director riffing on their own experience isn't novel, but Saint Omer is strikingly intimate and authentic because it's the embodiment of empathy in an innately difficult situation. It shows what it means to feel for someone else, including someone who has admitted to a shocking crime, and has been made because Diop went through that far-from-straightforward process and was galvanised to keep grappling with it. What a deeply emotional movie this 2022 Venice International Film Festival Grand Jury Prize-winning feature is, understandably and unsurprisingly. What a heartbreaking and harrowing work it proves as well. Saint Omer is also an astoundingly multilayered excavation of being in a country but never being seen as truly part it, and what that does to someone's sense of self, all through Fabienne Kabou's complicated reality and Laurence Coly's (Guslagie Malanda, My Friend Victoria) fictionalised scenario. As Laurence gets her time in court, Diop takes it all in. "It would make life easier" is the defendant's early characterisation of her crime, a gut-punch of a way to describe infanticide. But before Laurence unravels the minutiae of her life prior to and after moving from Senegal to study — and her daughter Lili's brief existence and death — Rama (film debutant Kayije Kagame) is dreaming, being comforted by her French partner Adrien (Thomas de Pourquery, Perfect Nanny), teaching and finally making the trip for the trial. When she packs, she grabs a sleeping bag. When she checks into her hotel, she replaces the bed's quilt with this small piece of home. It's a revealing gesture, conveying how intensely that Rama is already connecting with Laurence and her journey through the justice system; they're strangers but, as Rama gathers specifics for her book, which will compare Laurence's plight to Medea, this is never anything less than personal. The bulk of Saint Omer is chatter, as Laurence is questioned about what happened, why, her studies, her hopes and dreams, and her relationships with her mother (Salimata Kamate, Represent) and Lili's father (Xavier Many, Notre Dame on Fire). In France's legal setup, interrogating isn't limited to attorneys — the judge (Valérie Dréville, Wonder in the Suburbs) guides the proceedings, with Laurence's lawyer (Aurélia Petit, Rosalie) and prosecuting counsel (Robert Cantarella, My Best Part) inquiring sporadically. The defendant states from the outset that she killed her baby, but doesn't consider herself responsible. She wants the trial to inform not just the court but herself as to why this tragedy occurred. She brings up sorcery, and the immediate incredulity that hangs in the air in a room with only two other Black people, her mum and Rama, is among the plethora of ways that Diop calls attention to the contrast between France as a racially diverse nation and the truth of not being white in the European country. Befitting a movie about a writer, language is one of Saint Omer's stars, courtesy of a script co-written by Diop with the film's editor Amrita David, plus Marie N'Diaye (White Material). Often reworking text from Kabou's case, Laurence's story is told in such an evocative fashion that picturing what she's saying is a given. She talks, and cinematographer Claire Mathon (Spencer, and also Céline Sciamma's Petite Maman and Portrait of a Lady on Fire) hones in on that talking — always as Laurence wears skin-tone matching shirts that visually reinforce how invisible she feels; always standing against wooden panelling with the same effect; and always expressing as much in her stance, gaze and all the things she doesn't say. Occasionally, the judge takes the frame, or lawyers, witnesses or Rama, usually centred. Diop wants viewers to focus on their words, too, and the reactions betrayed by their faces and physicality. This is filmmaking at its most meticulous and emotional, with such carefully measured scenes proving puncturing and searing. As talk flows, so does judgement within the court and beyond. Rama begins querying herself — in her dreams, alone in her hotel, and via flashbacks to her childhood, where things with her mum (first-timer Adama Diallo Tamba) are complex and tense — but the scrutiny Laurence is placed under transcends her deeds. While Saint Omer doesn't excuse her actions for a second, it keeps illustrating how life in France has treated and continues to treat her, and why Rama can spy echoes between their otherwise vastly dissimilar predicaments. During a call after part of the testimony, Rama's editor (Alain Payen, Golden Moustache) notes that Laurence speaks "very sophisticated French". There's no doubting that that wouldn't be said about someone white with the same college background; Rama replies that she just "talks like an educated woman". When the judge also can't believe the claims of witchcraft, or entertain diving into what they mean, it too is a loaded response. There are no easy moments in Saint Omer, or easy answers. There can't be. Diop looks at this delicate situation with sensitivity and probing — and, in yet another parallel with Rama, questions why she's making the film, what she's saying about the situation, the role of myth in processing the incomprehensible, and motherhood's many intricacies and challenges. Indeed, this is a movie made with uncompromising rigour as well as understanding, as expected from a documentary filmmaker turning to fiction. It's a stunning legal drama that's as brilliantly crafted as Custody, another Venice standout from France about a grim situation. And, it's home to astonishing performances by Malanda and Kagame, each haunting in their own ways. Diop will never forget Kabou, and audiences won't be able to get her film, its extraordinary story or its exceptional lead actors out of their heads, either.
Know a very good boy or girl of the furry, four-legged persuasion? This weekend is their time to shine. On Saturday, May 27, food truck park and beer garden Welcome to Brunswick is set to become even more dog-friendly than usual, as it celebrates man's best mate with a day of festivities for the second time this year. The Good Dogs of Brunswick party will kick off from 12pm with DJ tunes spinning through the afternoon, market stalls, food trucks specials, as well as a charity keg to raise funds for the Lost Dogs Home. If you and your pooch are up for some shopping, you'll find an array of pet-centric market stalls slinging everything from dog desserts and treats to funky accessories and leads. And for pups with a competitive edge, the venue will be running a whole swag of fun dog contests throughout the day, with prizes for the waggliest tail, the oldest boy, the hound with the best rescue story and more.
This year, acclaimed whisky-maker House of Suntory is celebrating its 100th anniversary with two elegant dinners at renowned restaurants in Melbourne. In honour of the brand's roots, the Suntory Time dinners will be held at Japanese restaurants Kisume on Tuesday, August 22 and Yugen on Thursday, October 5. Guests can expect a lavish multi-course menu with the chance to sample a selection of Suntory's premium whiskies, including the special 100th anniversary edition of their 18-year-old Yamazaki Mizunara and Hakushu Peated Malt, which retails for over $3000. House of Suntory actually dates back to 1899, when founder Shinjiro Torii started out selling wine in Osaka. In 1923, the brand pivoted to focus on creating whisky specifically suited to Japanese consumers and opened Yamazaki Distillery — the first malt whisky distiller in the country. One hundred years on, Suntory is now established as a leading purveyor of spirits recognised the world over, and has since expanded the offering to include the award-winning Roku gin and Haku vodka. Whisky connoisseurs who can't make it to the dinners should keep an eye out in bottle shops for the release of limited editions of the 18-year-old Yamazaki Mizunara and Hakushu Peated Malt, along with anniversary labels of the 12-year-old Yamazaki and Hakushu. As part of the milestone, House of Suntory teamed up with filmmaker Sofia Coppola to create a short film starring Keanu Reeves. The Suntory Anniversary Tribute was shot in Japan and explores the brand's journey through the century, while also featuring a nod to Sofia's Lost in Translation, which was released 20 years ago. Book your spot at Kisume for $595 on Tuesday, August 22 on the website. Register your interest for Yugen on Thursday, October 5 on the website.
Every September and October, Germany erupts with brews, food and lederhosen-wearing revellers for its annual Oktoberfest celebrations. When that time rolls around Down Under, Australia follows suit. One such festivity is Oktoberfest in the Gardens, which has been throwing big Bavarian-themed celebrations around the country for 13 years — and is returning to Melbourne for 2023. Oktoberfest in the Gardens will make its latest Victorian stop at Catani Gardens in St Kilda on Saturday, October 21. If you're keen to head along, expect company; the event expects to welcome in over 70,000 people enjoying steins, schnitties and German shindigs across this year's seven-city run. Melbourne's fest will serve up the same kind of beer- and bratwurst-fuelled shenanigans that Germany has become so famous for. So, if you have a hankering for doppelbock and dancing to polka, it's the next best thing to heading to Europe. Oktoberfest in the Gardens boasts a crucial attraction, too: as well as serving a variety of pilsners, ciders, wine and non-alcoholic beverages, it constructs huge beer halls to house the boozy merriment. When you're not raising a stein — or several — at the day-long event, you can tuck into pretzels and other traditional snacks at food stalls, or check out the hefty array of entertainment. Live music, roving performers, a silent disco, rides and a sideshow alley are all on the agenda.
Some people love Christmas. Others adore winter. Easter's excuse to eat chocolate also has its fans. But if you like all things spooky and scary — if you know your Michael Myers from your Jason Voorhees, too — then October is the happiest time of each and every year, even though it's also the creepiest. Leaning into the unsettling season in a big way: The Astor Theatre, which is dedicating the month to eerie flicks. Horror movie diehards will find unnerving classics new and old on the lineup throughout Shocktober. Some of the program's titles you will have seen countless times. You might've always meant to get around to others. Or, maybe you just haven't had the chance to enjoy a few of these flicks on the big screen — let alone the Chapel Street picture palace's screen — just yet. As packed into single sessions, doubles, triples and a few marathons, highlights include The Fly with The Omen, The Wicker Man paired with Don't Look Now, sinking the fangs into The Hunger (complete with David Bowie) and Blade, and the eerie dream duo that is The Shining and Doctor Sleep. While there isn't necessarily a showing every day of the month, there's more than enough on the bill to make up for the horror film-free days before Tuesday, October 31. Think: Friday the 13th (yes, on the right date), Night of the Living Dead, The Haunting, Possession, The Nightmare Before Christmas, the OG Candyman, The Thing with Videodrome, Mulholland Drive and The Others as well. If you like watching a whole lot of scary movies at once, this year's marathons span the Scream franchise and an all-night ode to Halloween director John Carpenter. Then, on the big date itself, capping off the lineup: a 50th-anniversary session of William Friedkin's horror masterpiece The Exorcist.
If saying farewell to winter always puts you in the mood to spring clean your thinking and soak up some fresh ideas, then The Wheeler Centre's returning festival is one to add to your calendar — again. The literary hub's celebration of words and ideas that is Spring Fling first debuted in 2022, and is back again for 2023 across Monday, October 2–Saturday, October 14. As always, it's got a sparkling lineup of local and international authors, actors, musicians, thinkers and other talents in tow. Among the exciting figures who'll be chatting is Irish author Caroline O'Donoghue, who has both The Rachel Incident and podcast Sentimental Garbage to dive into; 2023 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction winner Hernan Diaz, with Trust and money his topics of conversation; and Looking for Alibrandi star Pia Miranda, fresh from popping up in Aunty Donna's Coffee Cafe, to talk through her life and career. The festival program spans more than 20 events, hitting venues such as The Wheeler Centre itself, Melbourne Town Hall and The Edge at Fed Square. Also on the bill: Boy Swallows Universe's Trent Dalton, cousins Andrew Quilty and Ben Quilty — who'll be speaking together publicly for the first time, covering creativity — and journalist Leigh Sales. Rebecca Makkai will dive into I Have Some Questions for You; performers Gloria Demillo, Jasper Peach and Nevo Zisin will read queer literature and their own words while literally stripped bare to muse on vulnerability; and Amie Kaufman and Lili Wilkinson will explore the YA realm. In the podcast space, O'Donoghue will be recording Sentimental Garbage live, while Jen Cloher will do the same with Everybody's Trying To Find Their Way Home.
Writing a prescient tale is the science-fiction holy grail, and a feat that Philip K Dick firmly achieved. Making a movie that becomes the prevailing vision of what the future might look like in the entire world's minds? That's a stunning filmmaking feat, and one that Ridley Scott notched up as well. The reason for both? On the page, 1968's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?. In cinemas, 1982's Blade Runner. And if you need reminding of how stunning a story that the iconic sci-fi author penned, or how spectacular a film that the legendary director then turned it into, look no further than Blade Runner's return to the big screen — with a live score. When Dick pondered the difference between humans and artificial intelligence more than half a century back, he peered forward with revelatory foresight. When Scott followed fresh from Alien, he did the same. Now, with the clash between the organic and the digital a daily part of our lives in this ChatGPT-heavy reality, of course it's time for Blade Runner to flicker again. Film lovers, get ready for another dream movie-and-music pairing. Get ready for synths, too. Vangelis' stunning score will echo as Scott's feature screens in at Melbourne's Hamer Hall on Saturday, November 4–Sunday, November 5 for Blade Runner Live — an event that premiered in London in 2019, made its way around the UK, then hit Japan earlier in 2023. This session will screen the Final Cut version of the movie. Wondering how it differs from the OG release, and also the House of Gucci, The Last Duel and Napoleon filmmaker's Director's Cut? First unveiled in 2007 for the feature's 25th anniversary, it's the only version that Scott truly had full artistic control over. Blade Runner's narrative, if you're new to the franchise — which also includes exceptional 2017 sequel Blade Runner 2049 and recent animated series Blade Runner: Black Lotus, with a new Blade Runner TV series also on the way — focuses on the one and only Harrison Ford (Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny) as cop Rick Deckard. His task: finding replicants, aka androids, which turns into quite the existential journey. It's almost impossible to name a movie or TV series in sci-fi that's popped up over the four decades since Blade Runner first arrived that hasn't owed Scott's film a massive debt — and any synthesiser-fuelled score that hasn't done the same with Vangelis.
We did it Melbourne. We braved another winter, and spring is now well and truly in the air. T-shirts and shorts are back on the menu (okay maybe not every day), and we are all outside again. 'Tis the weather to be biking — and, lucky you, 'tis the season for a Lekker garage sale. From 9am–4.30pm on Saturday, September 23, the Dutch bike brand will offer huge discounts on a range of bikes — with its range including city bikes, commuter bikes and electric bikes — as well as accessories and spare parts. Some bikes will be up to half price, with prices from $600. So, if you're looking for a new set of wheels, this is the perfect opportunity to snap up a bargain. But it's not just about the bikes. There'll be plant-based food from Purple Rabbit on offer, a DJ set from ETRO and a raffle with prizes from Bodhi & Ride. Don't risk a sleep-in, though — Lekker's past sales have seen pretty hefty lines of punters keen for those bicycle bargains and you don't want to miss out.
The art world's love affair with Andy Warhol has lasted far longer than 15 minutes. Australia's fondness for the iconic artist definitely hasn't been fleeting, either. In 2023 alone, not one, not two, but three different exhibitions Down Under have celebrated his work; however, only Instant Warhol is solely dedicated to his skills with a polaroid camera. On the Gold Coast in autumn, Pop Masters highlighted Warhol's pieces alongside works by Jean-Michel Basquiat and Keith Haring. In Adelaide around the same period, Andy Warhol & Photography: A Social Media honed in on the artist as a shutterbug. Obviously, Instant Warhol has the same idea as the latter, but it will only be filled with polaroid portraits — 59 of them. This time, Warhol's work is headed to Ballarat, displaying from Saturday, August 26–Sunday, October 22 at the Art Gallery of Ballarat during the Ballarat International Foto Biennale. The regional Victorian photography festival is never short on things to see, but Instant Warhol is quite the drawcard for the biannual event. [caption id="attachment_906816" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Andy Warhol self-portrait in drag, 1980. © Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Inc. Artists Rights Society [ARS]/Copyright Agency, 2023.[/caption]The original snaps that Warhol himself took — when he wasn't painting Campbell's soup cans and images of Marilyn Monroe, of course — will be on display. Even if you haven't seen them before, some should be familiar. One of the reasons that the artist captured polaroids, other than loving them, was to turn some of the famous faces he snapped into his screen prints. Drawn from the thousands of photographs he took with the instant cameras between 1958–87, this selection of pictures will also feature images of Warhol himself. They're all coming to Australia thanks to The Brant Foundation, with founder Peter M Brant one of Warhol's early patrons, then a friend, and also the the producer of Warhol's films L'Amour and Bad. [caption id="attachment_906817" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Top image: Andy Warhol, Sylvester Stallone, 1980. © Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Inc. Artists Rights Society [ARS]/Copyright Agency, 2023.[/caption]Top image: Photograph of Andy Warhol taking a polaroid picture while sitting with Jack Ford and Bianca Jagger on the Truman Balcony, U.S. National Archives and Records Administration courtesy Gerald R. Ford Presidential Library via Wikimedia Commons.
When the end of the year hits, do you get 'Christmas is All Around', as sung by Bill Nighy, stuck in your head? Have you ever held up a piece of cardboard to tell the object of your affection that, to you, they're perfect? Does your idea of getting festive involve watching Hugh Grant, Liam Neeson, Colin Firth, Laura Linney, Alan Rickman, Emma Thompson, Keira Knightley, Rowan Atkinson and Martin Freeman, all in the same movie? If you answered yes to any of the above questions, then you clearly adore everyone's favourite Christmas-themed British rom-com, its high-profile cast and its seasonal humour. And, you've probably watched the beloved flick every December since it was first released in cinemas back in 2003. That's a perfectly acceptable routine, and one that's shared by many. But this year, you can do one better — again. A huge success during its past tours of the UK and Australia (to the surprise of absolutely no one), Love Actually in Concert is returning in 2023 to make this festive season extra merry. It's exactly what it sounds like: a screening of the film accompanied by a live orchestra performing the soundtrack as the movie plays. To the jolly delight of Melburnians, it's heading to Hamer Hall at 3.30pm and 7pm on Saturday, December 23. Here, you'll revisit the Richard Curtis-written and -directed film you already know and treasure, step through its interweaved Yuletide stories of romance, and hear a live orchestra play the movie's soundtrack. And, yes, Christmas (and love) will be all around you.
Buzzing at the heart of Blue Beetle are two contrasting notions: fitting in and standing out. Jaime Reyes (Xolo Maridueña, Cobra Kai) wants to feel at home not just in his own slice of El Paso-esque Texan spot Palmera City, but beyond his neighbourhood. When he assists his sister Milagro (Belissa Escobedo, Hocus Pocus 2) working at the well-to-do's houses, he searches for opportunities, especially given that he's in need of a steady job to help his family save their home as gentrification swoops in. Thanks to a run-in with Kord Industries, its warmongering CEO Victoria Kord (Susan Sarandon, Maybe I Do) and an ancient artefact known as the scarab, however, the recent Gotham Law University graduate will soon be his hometown's most distinctive resident. Getting covered in blue armour, being able to fly — wings and other bug appendages come with the suit — and hearing a robotic voice (Becky G, Power Rangers) chatting in your head will do that, as will having a multinational company try to swat you down because it wants to deploy the technology RoboCop-style. So scampers the latest entry in the DC Extended Universe — a movie that grapples with the same concepts as the ever-earnest Jaime beyond its storyline. It slots into its franchise while providing something new 14 entries in, before the DCEU comes to an end with the upcoming Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom (under fresh DC leadership, a different silver-screen saga is coming, which might still link in with Blue Beetle). Directed by Ángel Manuel Soto (Charm City Kings), this is the superhero genre's first live-action flick with a Latino lead, be it from DC or Marvel. It's a family drama as much a caped-crusader affair. It's a story about immigrants striving to thrive and retain their own culture. And, it revels in an 80s sheen and sound. Blue Beetle battles enthusiastically to claim its own space, then, as almost constantly seen and felt. Alas, that doesn't stop it from getting generic as well, as much save-the-world fare is. When it soars in its own direction, Blue Beetle does indeed make an impression. When it marches dutifully in the standard superhero line, it can play like another by-the-numbers movie about great powers and great responsibilities in an ever-sprawling on-screen realm. Mostly, the former outweighs the latter — and Blue Beetle's charms go a long way. Accordingly, this initially made-for-streaming picture serves up a case of taking the struggles with the highlights, which is another of its messages. And there are highlights, particularly whenever Soto's feature feels like it's in a world away from Shazam! Fury of the Gods, The Flash (just to name 2023's other DC movies so far) and the like. That approach worked for Joker and The Batman, two DC films that aren't in the DCEU or new DC Universe, and are each scoring sequels. Jaime's journey to becoming Blue Beetle is instantly familiar: Marvel's also insect-focused Spider-Man and Ant-Man flicks have spun similar origin stories. Here, alien biotech-slash-treasure sparks his big change, as given to him for safekeeping by Victoria's niece Jenny (Bruna Marquezine, God Save the King) because she disagrees with her aunt's combat-for-profit ways. Thanks to Blue Beetle's dedicated, warmhearted embrace of cultural specificity, Jaime's family are always along for the ride, adding a Spy Kids vibe to Soto's film. His mother Rocio (Elpidia Carrillo, Guillermo del Toro's Cabinet of Curiosities), father Alberto (Damián Alcázar, Acapulco), Nana (Adriana Barraza, Penny Dreadful: City of Angels) and uncle Rudy (George Lopez, Lopez vs Lopez), an inventor with a firm individualist streak, are swiftly immersed in the chaos — and Milagro, too — as Victoria keeps valuing the scarab, suit and cash she thinks they'll inspire over any human fallout. Although Blue Beetle has an 84-year history on the page, the eponymous figure's solo live-action cinema debut is as much for newcomers as devotees. Soto's love letter to inclusion isn't only about shining a spotlight on Latinx characters and their experiences, or putting the full Reyes crew at its core — or delivering a clash between the one percent and everyone else, blending the eat-the-rich trend with caped crusaders. It's about accessibility as well; at a time where big film franchises have become so serialised that they're akin to ongoing TV shows on the big screen (and with bigger budgets), and so laden with fan service that the off-screen cheers are virtually choreographed, Blue Beetle doesn't require hours and hours of viewing homework or years and years of devotion to jump in. Again and again, it's plain to see how Soto and screenwriter Gareth Dunnet-Alcocer (Miss Bala) clearly want their feature to stand apart, even when it leans into the superhero template. Also easy to spot: how Blue Beetle would've stuck much closer to the usual mould without such warmth showered upon its characters and its committed performances. Affection goes two ways here, raining down from Soto and Dunnet-Alcocer, then beaming back up from Maridueña and his co-stars. Jaime and his relatives could've stepped into Blue Beetle from a heartfelt TV series that charts the ins and outs of their lives as a loving and hardworking migrant family in a place brimming with prejudice and corruption. They could take the opposite route now instead and it'd feel just as fitting. It's hardly surprising that Sarandon is cartoonish by their side — but, other than giving the plot a threat while personifying corporate and American evil, plus the lust for power and wealth at any cost, she's not being asked to do much else. The respect, detail and authenticity that's evident in Blue Beetle's cultural homage, family focus and casting help give Blue Beetle its gleam. It still becomes a sea of smashed-together pixels late in the piece, though, just with well-portrayed characters that the audience cares about, and also ample splashes of neon and synth like this is Tron with superheroes. What does a twentysomething who's undergone a Peter Parker/Miles Morales-esque life shift with a Venom-meets-Iron Man technology end up physically fighting? Something comparable and visually bland, even if said nemesis gets a backstory rife with suffering at Victoria's hands. Blue Beetle isn't without aesthetic flair beyond its nostalgic riffs, with one scene that's shot to resemble an immigration department raid both grabbing attention and making a statement. It also doesn't lack heart anywhere. And, it's fun with something meaningful to say, neither of which are givens in this genre. That said, finding the balance between being oneself and having another force and its influence flittering around isn't only an issue for Blue Beetle's likeable protagonist.
UPDATE, October 27, 2022: Bodies Bodies Bodies is available to stream via Google Play, YouTube Movies, iView and Prime Video. The internet couldn't have stacked Bodies Bodies Bodies better if it tried, not that that's how the slasher-whodunnit-comedy came about. Pete Davidson (The Suicide Squad) waves a machete around, and his big dick energy, while literally boasting about how he looks like he fucks. Borat Subsequent Moviefilm: Delivery of Prodigious Bribe to American Regime for Make Benefit Once Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan Oscar-nominee Maria Bakalova plays the cautious outsider among rich-kid college grads, who plan to ride out a big storm with drinks and drugs (and drama) in one of their parents' mansions. The Hunger Games and The Hate U Give alum Amandla Stenberg leads the show as the gang's black sheep, turning up unannounced to zero fanfare from her supposed besties, while the rest of the cast spans Shiva Baby's Rachel Sennott, Generation's Chase Sui Wonders and Industry's Myha'la Herrold, plus Pushing Daisies and The Hobbit favourite Lee Pace as a two-decades-older interloper. And the Agatha Christie-but-Gen Z screenplay? It's drawn from a spec script by Kristen Roupenian, the writer of 2017 viral New Yorker short story Cat Person. All of the above is a lot. Bodies Bodies Bodies is a lot — 100-percent on purpose. It's a puzzle about a party game, as savage a hangout film as they come, and a satire about Gen Z, for starters. It carves into toxic friendships, ignored class clashes, self-obsessed obliviousness, passive aggression and playing the victim. It skewers today's always-online world and the fact that everyone has a podcast — and lets psychological warfare and paranoia simmer, fester and explode. Want more? It serves up another reminder after The Resort, Palm Springs and co that kicking back isn't always cocktails and carefree days. It's an eat-the-rich affair alongside Squid Game and The White Lotus. Swirling that all together like its characters' self-medicating diets, this wildly entertaining horror flick is a phenomenal calling card for debut screenwriter Sarah DeLappe and Dutch filmmaker Halina Reijn (Instinct), too — and it's hilarious, ridiculous, brutal and satisfying. Forgetting how it ends is also utterly impossible. The palatial compound where Bodies Bodies Bodies unfurls belongs to David's (Davidson) family, but it's hurricane-party central when the film begins. That said, no one — not David, his actor girlfriend Emma (Wonders), the no-nonsense Jordan (Herrold) or needy podcaster Alice (Sennott), and definitely not Greg (Pace), the latter's swipe-right older boyfriend of barely weeks — expects Sophie (Stenberg) to show as they're swigging tequila poolside. She hasn't responded to the group chat, despite claiming otherwise when she arrives. She certainly hasn't told them, not even her childhood ride-or-die David, that she's bringing her new girlfriend Bee (Bakalova) along. And Sophie hasn't prepared Bee for their attitudes, all entitlement, years of taken-for-granted comfort and just as much mouldering baggage, as conveyed in bickering that's barely disguised as banter. When the weather turns bad as forecast, a game is soon afoot inside the sprawling abode. Sharing the movie's title, the fake murder-mystery lark is this crew's go-to — but, even with a hefty supply of glow sticks (handy in the inevitable power outage), it doesn't mix too well with booze, coke and Xanax. The essentials: pieces of paper, one crossed with a X; everyone picking a scrap, with whoever gets the marked sliver deemed the perpetrator; and switching off the lights while said killer offs their victim, which happens just by touching them. Then, it's time to guess who the culprit is. That's when the mood plummets quickly, because accusing your friends of being faux murderers by publicly checking off all their shady traits will do that. It gets worse, of course, when those bodies bodies bodies soon become literal and everyone's a suspect. "It gets worse" could be a life motto for Sophie and her clique; they're at that stage of adulthood where their whole lives are supposed to await — until Bodies Bodies Bodies, the game, happens — and yet a whirlwind of disappointment and uncertainty lingers. Their friendships are stormy yet stagnating, old scores and misdeeds clattering down, secrets spilling, and past romantic entanglements still causing hail. Tension and unhappiness rains over their fragile arguments about grudges and jealousies, hate-listening and the word 'gaslight', and why 40-year-old Greg is even there as well. No one is making great decisions, or wants to be making decisions at all, and insular couldn't describe better the atmosphere that greets the quiet, reserved, clearly-not-as-wealthy Bee. Initially blissfully head-over-heels in that newly smitten, six-weeks-in way, "it gets worse" also starts to echo for her as the dynamic with Sophie unsurprisingly changes. As the kills keep coming, twentysomething malaise, mania and stupidity gets worse, too — and Bodies Bodies Bodies relishes it all. The dialogue is as sharp as a blade, and yet also like eavesdropping on any cohort of potential horror-movie victims trying to stay alive when they're being picked off one by one in a fancy abode; again, by design. Yes, there's much in the screenplay that's easy to spot. Toying with those formulaic pieces is the other game within the feature's fast-paced and tightly wound game, however, as bloody mayhem ensues sans internet, electricity, sobriety, trust and common sense. Capitalising upon the sense that everything is in a hurry, plus the careening cinematography by Jasper Wolf (Monos) that stalks and roams around the house, to mirror Sophie and her friends' inner chaos is a shrewd touch. That's Bodies Bodies Bodies all over, with Reijn utilising every shot, claustrophobic use of torches and lit-up mobile phone screens to light scenes, mischievous note in Disasterpiece's (Triple Frontier) score, obvious plot inclusion and buzzword-heavy line to irreverently rip into the film's many genres and targets. Bodies Bodies Bodies unpacks us all, to be fair; who isn't a few unexpected shocks away from bedlam, from their flaws being exposed and their worst instincts kicking in (especially without wifi as a crutch, the film jokingly/half-jokingly posits)? This romp of a slasher-comedy shreds almost everything in sight but takes care not to tear its characters down — we've all stumbled, fumbled and fought to survive in our own ways, and life is uneasy for all of us. The cracker of a punchline conclusion is full of heartily dark laughs, not terrors, which is Bodies Bodies Bodies' entire approach to parodying and slicing everything it can. Managing all of the above with a killer cast, too? Especially with Stenberg playing it loose and mesmerising, Bakalova pitch-perfect as the wary but enterprising newcomer, Davidson doing his usual charismatically goofy thing, and Sennott and Pace stealing every moment they can with her lively ditziness and his hanger-on swagger, Bodies Bodies Bodies slays slays slays.
Beer might be the tipple of choice for many footy fans, but if you'd prefer to spend your Grand Final Eve holiday quaffing gin, you'll want to make a date with Brogan's Way. On Friday, September 23, the Richmond distillery is celebrating the public holiday with a Footy Finals Friday Warm-Up session involving bottomless G&Ts. Choose from the 1pm or 4pm sitting and head along to kick back with two hours of free-flowing house G&T varieties. You'll have the chance to try all five signature blends, including Brogan's Way's Evening Light Gin with the Capi Melbourne Tonic, the Strawberries & Cream Gin matched with Capi Dry Tonic, and the Hearts Afire Gin with Strangelove's Dirty Tonic. You'll also get a shared grazing box to pair with your drinks, packed with goodies like seared lamb croutons with crushed pea and mint, Peking duck pancakes, tomato and caper bruschetta, and mini pear and raspberry crumbles. There's a vegetarian version available, too. Tickets to the Friday Warm-Up are $69, including bottomless sips and your grazing box.
We've all spent more time inside than usual over the past few years. In the process, we've all been looking at our furniture far more often than we usually would. So, if you've been rocked by the urge to redecorate, rearrange and reorganise of late, that's hardly surprising — those well-loved cushions, that old couch or your overflowing shelves could probably do with sprucing up. If IKEA is your furniture go-to, then its mid-year clearance sale is here to help, too — offering discounts of up to 50 percent off on some items. Whether you're in need of something big like a bed, chair or desk, or you're eager to fill your walls and surfaces with frames and vases, you'll find slashed prices on a heap of products. The sale runs until Sunday, July 10 — and, for Melburnians, you have multiple options if you're eager to start buying. Head into the Richmond or Springvale stores; browse online, then opt for click-and-collect; or do all your perusing and purchasing on the company's website, before waiting for delivery. Getting in quickly is always recommended, given how popular IKEA's sales are — and the fact that all of the chain's discounted wares are available while stocks last. And if you're wondering how cheap is cheap, plates and bowls start at $1, oh-so-many plant pots and fake plants come in at under $10, there's a set of mirrors for $15, and nifty storage tables cost $20 — and that's just the beginning.
Where would we be without movies during the pandemic? Even when cinemas were closed during lockdowns, we all still sought out the joy and escapism of watching a flick — and truly appreciated how cathartic it is. Still keen to queue up a big heap of movies, and a hefty dose of couch time? Enter Movie Frenzy, the returning week-long online film rental sale. From Friday, June 24–Thursday, June 30, it's serving up a sizeable lineup of popular flicks from the past year, all from less than $3 per movie. On the lineup: the OTT stunts of Jackass Forever, the Oscar-winning poignancy of Belfast, Joaquin Phoenix turning in another fantastic performance in C'mon C'mon and The Sopranos prequel The Many Saints of Newark. Or, bustin' can make you feel good (again) via Ghostbusters: Afterlife, and you can get some more sequel action via Venom: Let There Be Carnage and Sing 2. Female-led spy thriller The 355, Jennifer Lopez-starring rom-com Marry Me, ridiculous disaster epic Moonfall, Aussie zombie flick Wyrmwood Apocalypse and Liam Neeson's latest action effort Blacklight are also available, too. So are the oversized canine antics of Clifford the Big Red Dog, Cliff Eastwood glaring his way through Cry Macho and the literary world-set The Hating Game. (While some of these flicks are more worth your attention than others, we'll let you do the choosing.) You can nab the cheap movies via your digital rental platform of choice, including Apple TV, iTunes, Fetch, Google Play, Dendy Home Cinema, the Microsoft Store, the Playstation Store, Prime Video, Telstra TV Box Office and YouTube Movies — although just what's available, and the price, will vary depending on the service. And you won't need a subscription, unless you decide to join in the fun via the Foxtel Store.
In Sundown's holiday porn-style opening scenes, a clearly wealthy British family enjoys the most indulgent kind of Acapulco getaway that anyone possibly can. Beneath the blazing blue Mexican sky, at a resort that visibly costs a pretty penny, Alice Bennett (Charlotte Gainsbourg, The Snowman), her brother Neil (Tim Roth, Bergman Island), and her teenage children Alexa (Albertine Kotting McMillan, A Very British Scandal) and Colin (Samuel Bottomley, Everybody's Talking About Jamie) swim and lounge and sip, with margaritas, massages and moneyed bliss flowing freely. For many, it'd be a dream vacation. For Alice and her kids, it's routine, but they're still enjoying themselves. The look on Neil's passive face says everything, however. It's the picture of apathy — even though, as the film soon shows, he flat-out refuses to be anywhere else. The last time that a Michel Franco-written and -directed movie reached screens, it came courtesy of the Mexican filmmaker's savage class warfare drama New Order, which didn't hold back in ripping into the vast chasm between the ridiculously rich and everyone else. Sundown is equally as brutal, but it isn't quite Franco's take on The White Lotus or Nine Perfect Strangers, either. Rather, it's primarily a slippery and sinewy character study about a man with everything as well as nothing. Much happens within the feature's brief 82-minute running time. Slowly, enough is unveiled about the Bennett family's background, and why their extravagant jaunt abroad couldn't be a more ordinary event in their lavish lives. Still, that indifferent expression adorning Neil's dial rarely falters, whether grief, violence, trauma, lust, love, wins or losses cast a shadow over or brighten up his poolside and seaside stints knocking back drinks in the sunshine. For anyone else, the first interruption that comes the Bennetts' way would change this trip forever; indeed, for Alice, Alexa and Colin, it does instantly. Thanks to one sudden phone call, Alice learns that her mother is gravely ill. Via another while the quartet is hightailing it to the airport, she discovers that the worst has occurred. Viewers can be forgiven for initially thinking that Neil is her cruelly uncaring husband in these moments — Franco doesn't spell out their relationship until later, and Neil doesn't act for a second like someone who might and then does lose his mum. Before boarding the plane home, he shows the faintest glimmer of emotion when he announces that he's forgotten his passport, though. That said, he isn't agitated about delaying his journey back, but about the possibility that his relatives mightn't jet off and leave him alone. Sundown is often a restrained film, intentionally so. It doles out the reasons behind Neil's behaviour, and even basic explanatory information, as miserly as its protagonist cracks a smile. The movie itself is eventually a tad more forthcoming than Neil, but it remains firmly steeped in Franco's usual mindset: life happens, contentedly and grimly alike, and we're all just weathering it. Neither the highs nor lows appear to bother Neil, who holes up at the first hotel his cab driver takes him to, then starts making excuses and simply ignoring Alice's worried calls and texts. He navigates an affair with the younger Berenice (Iazua Larios, Ricochet) as well, and carries on like he doesn't have a care in the world. His sister returns, frantic and angry, but even then he's nonplussed. The same proves true, too, when a gangland execution bloodies his leisurely days by the beach, and also when violence cuts far closer to home. Tranquility, bleakness, the ordinary and the extreme in-between: it all keeps coming throughout Sundown. Yes, life keeps happening, even amid the relaxed air that breezes through the movie's aforementioned introductory moments. When there's little on the Bennetts' minds except unwinding, their comfort literally comes at the hands of Acapulco's workers. In the streets, an incendiary mood bubbles well before bodies end up on the sand. The gap between the one percent and the rest of us always stays in plain sight. The fact that a getaway as luxe as this one relies upon not the kindness but the exhaustive labour of others never slinks away. Also, that Neil's family wealth springs from slaughter isn't subtle — animals, in the pork trade — but that's never been Franco's approach. Still, Sundown is a film to soak up, riding its twists and wading through its questions, including the plethora that keep springing about Neil's actions. The last time that Roth worked with Franco, in 2015's Chronic, he turned in a mesmerising performance. Here, he's magnetic and absorbing as a man adrift by choice, through entitlement and also due to the cards he's been dealt. Some shots play up that idea with the director's characteristic lack of understatement — floating in a pool, for instance — but the point would've been plain via the film's central performance alone. Roth isn't coasting, or bobbing, or doing anything aimlessly. Sundown's audience can see Neil's behaviour as comic, heartless, troubled or arrogant, or a combination of all four and more, but Roth makes the sense of detachment and entropy behind the character's every move echo from the screen. His efforts prove all the more stark against the also-wonderful Gainsbourg, in a far smaller part. Unsurprisingly, Alice is anything but dispassionate, with her brother's subterfuge, selfishness and utter lack of care for everyone he's affecting earning her increasing exasperation. For Franco, forgoing nuance means staring head-on at the tales he's telling, the people within them and the statements about humanity that are being made — and Belgian cinematographer Yves Cape, who has a number of the filmmaker's pictures to his name (plus entrancing 2019 French film Zombi Child as well), eagerly obliges. Roving your eyes over Sundown's patient frames is an exercise in careful observation, sometimes peering so closely that you can almost count Roth's pores, but usually with a sense of distance that mirrors the space that Neil cultivates around himself. Watching this ruminative feature also requires confronting existential woes — and pondering existence — both compellingly and unsettlingly so. Franco has never had any fondness for privilege, or much for human nature; with his latest penetrating film, he's as unforgiving as always, but also as committed to unpacking what it means to define your own path.
Sweet-toothed Melburnians have likely already swooned over the treats being whipped up by online cake shop — and Instagram favourite — Miss Trixie Drinks Tea. But you've never experienced them like this before. On Saturday, August 6, Miss Trixie is taking over Abbotsford's Altar Electric for its inaugural pop-up, where it'll be serving up cakes and sweets by the slice for the first time ever. Drop by from 9am to find an array of signature goodies, exclusive one-offs and even a few new trial recipes, starting from $5 a pop for cookies and $7 each for brownies. Cakes come in at $9 a slice, with flavours set to include the likes of chocolate Biscoff; coconut and raspberry with gin lime curd and freeze-dried strawberry; and a banana cake finished with peanut buttercream and salted dark chocolate honeycomb. You'll save some coin if you BYO container to pop your morning's cake haul into. And if you fancy mixing and matching the sweet and savoury, Miss Trixie customers can also score $3 coffees and $12 chop cheese sangas from Kelso's Sandwich Shoppe a few doors along. Images: Mrs White Photos
Craft & Co's seasonal gin markets have become a firm fixture on Melbourne's booze calendar. And now, those boozy events are set to score a new sibling, with the Collingwood venue kicking off its first ever Dark Spirits Festival. Running across Thursday, August 18–Sunday, August 21, it's a celebration of top-notch Aussie artisan rum, whisky and other dark drops that promises to introduce you to a heap of new favourites. It kicks off Thursday night with a five-course spirits-matched dinner ($95), starring pours like Artillery's eight-year barrel-aged rum, The Gospel's Solera rye whiskey and the Coastal Stone sherry cask whiskey by Manly Spirits Co. Diners will also get the chance to pick some brains at a meet-the-maker Q&A session, and score a goodie bag to take home. Across the next three days, you'll catch Craft & Co's inaugural dark spirits market, running as a sit-down tasting affair — a little bit like booze producer speed-dating. Pull up a seat and relax as the distillers drop by your table to show off their latest creations, pour samples and answer all your burning questions. There are six market sessions running (7pm Friday; 11am, 2pm and 5pm Saturday; and 11.30am and 2.30pm Sunday), but spots are limited, so you'll want to book quickly. Tickets range from $35–40, including all tastings and a take-home showbag. And as always, there'll be a pop-up bottle shop where you can stock up on goodies for your home bar.
Finding a moment or statement from The Princess to sum up The Princess is easy. Unlike the powerful documentary's subject in almost all aspects of her life from meeting the future King of England onwards, viewers have the luxury of choice. Working solely with archival materials, writer/director Ed Perkins (Tell Me Who I Am) doesn't lack in chances to demonstrate how distressing it was to be Diana, Princess of Wales — and the fact that his film can even exist also underscores that point. While both The Crown and Spencer have dramatised Diana's struggles with applauded results, The Princess tells the same tale as it was incessantly chronicled in the media between 1981–1997. The portrait that emanates from this collage of news footage, tabloid snaps and TV clips borders on dystopian. It's certainly disturbing. What kind tormented world gives rise to this type of treatment just because someone is famous? The one we all live in, sadly. Perkins begins The Princess with shaky visuals from late in August 1997, in Paris, when Diana and Dodi Fayed were fleeing the paparazzi on what would be the pair's last evening. The random voice behind the camera is excited at the crowds and commotion, not knowing how fatefully the night would end. That's telling, haunting and unsettling, and so is the clip that immediately follows. The filmmaker jumps back to 1981, to a then 19-year-old Diana being accosted as she steps into the street. Reporters demand answers on whether an engagement will be announced, as though extracting private details from a teenager because she's dating Prince Charles is a right. The Princess continues in the same fashion, with editors Jinx Godfrey (Chernobyl) and Daniel Lapira (The Boat) stitching together example after example of a woman forced to be a commodity and expected to be a spectacle, all to be devoured and consumed. Listing comparable moments within The Princess' riveting frames is easy; they snowball relentlessly into an avalanche. Indeed, after the film shows Charles and Diana's betrothal news and how it's received by the press and public, the media scrutiny directed Diana's way becomes the subject of a TV conversation. "I think it's going to be much easier. I think we're going to see a change in the attitude of the press. I think that now she's publicly one of the royal family, all this telephoto lens business will stop," a talking head from four decades back asserts — and it isn't merely the benefit of hindsight that makes that claim sound deeply preposterous. Later, Perkins features a soundbite from a paparazzo, which proves equally foolish, not to mention a cop-out. "All we do is take pictures. The decision to buy the pictures is taken by the picture editors of the world, and they buy the pictures so their readers can see them. So at the end of the day, the buck stops with the readers," the photographer contends. The Princess isn't here to simplistically and squarely blame the public, but it does let the material it assembles — and the fact that there's so much of it, and that nothing here is new or astonishing even for a second because it's already been seen before — speak for itself. What a story that all unfurls, and how, including pondering the line between mass fascination and being complicit. Perkins eschews contemporary interviews and any other method of providing recent context, and also makes plain what everyone watching already knows: that escaping Diana has been impossible for more than 40 years now, during her life and after her death a quarter-century ago as well, but it was always worse by several orders of magnitude for Diana herself. The expressions that flicker across her face over the years, evolving from shy and awkward to determined and anguished, don't just speak volumes but downright scream. In the audio samples overlaid on paparazzi shots and ceaseless news coverage, that's dissected, too, and rarely with kindness for the woman herself. Being sympathetic to royalty isn't a prerequisite for feeling perturbed by The Princess. Being a fan of The Crown or believing that Kristen Stewart deserved an Oscar for Spencer — which she did — isn't either. All that's required is empathy for anyone whose existence is stripped of choice, who is made to perform a certain role no matter what, who's saddled with onerous tasks that dismantle their agency and identity, and who gets torn to pieces whether they comply or rebel. That's a key reason why Diana's plight keeps resonating and always will. It's also why 'the People's Princess' label continues to echo. The latter was coined to describe her popularity and that feverish obsession, but it cannily cuts to the core of a heartbreaking truth: Diana attained a supposed fairytale but discovered that nothing in life is a dream, a realisation that couldn't be more relatable and universal. As well-established as the details are, the minutiae still spills out as The Princess progresses: the coupling primarily to provide an heir to the throne, the unsurprising distance in Diana and Charles' marriage, the persistent presence of Camilla Parker Bowles, several layers of envy, the 'Dianagate' tapes and the nation-stopping interviews all included (electricity surges during her 1995 tell-all chat with Martin Bashir, thanks to kettles boiling across Britain, are noted). Ignoring how the media kept shaping Diana's narrative would mean shutting your eyes and blocking your ears, even if the score by The Crown's Martin Phipps didn't maximise the tension. Ignoring the parallels rippling through the royal camp today, in the way that Meghan Markle has been treated by the media, is similarly out of the question. It isn't by accident that Perkins lingers on a young Prince Harry at his mother's funeral to wrap the movie up, after all. The Princess' approach isn't new, either. It's effective, though. And, as the same style proved in recent Australian docos The Final Quarter and Strong Female Lead — films that used archival footage to explore how perceptions are manufactured by the press as well — it's nothing short of damning about media practices and the audience hunger they think they're satisfying. Those two features explored how AFL star Adam Goodes was regarded in the twilight of his career, and how the fourth estate surveyed Australian Prime Minister Julia Gillard while she was in the nation's top job. They dived into the self-fuelling cycle that stems from predatory coverage and the public's responses, one feeding the other and vice versa. Sound familiar? Watching both alongside The Princess would make for grim and harrowing viewing — essential viewing, too, particularly in a world that shows so few signs of changing.
Since its launch back in 2017, Pontoon has become Melbourne's answer to those epic beach clubs that populate European coastlines. Maintaining that solid rep, this summer, the bar has partnered with top seltzer brand White Claw for an epic live gig so you can have tunes served up with your view over St Kilda Beach. On Sunday, February 13, you can extend those weekend vibes with one of the hottest emerging music acts in the country: Close Counters. From 5pm, the Melbourne-based duo will perform a DJ set, spinning up soulful, genre-traversing tunes to have a boogie to. Yep, Sunday sessions and live music are well and truly back and we're here for it. To top it off, you'll be sipping refreshing White Claws while you listen. And best of all? This gig is completely free to attend. For more information on White Claw Weekend at Pontoon, head to the White Claw website.
In early February every year, sweet-toothed souls celebrate World Nutella Day. The day of dessert devotion is just around the corner once again — and it's safe to say Preston Market has your feasting well and truly sorted. The northside precinct is transforming into a treasure trove of chocolatey and hazelnutty delights for the occasion on Saturday, February 5, as a stack of its traders get into the spirit with a range of special offers, free tastings and one-off Nutella dishes. Get stuck into Nutella-stuffed croissants at both Publique Bakery and Rustic Bean Cafe, treat yourself to one of Calavera's Nutella cronuts, gorge on Nutella-filled ricotta cannoli from Cannoleria, or opt for one of the more virtuous vegan Nutella smoothie bowls being served up by Super Raw. Meanwhile, Les Crepes Gourmandes will be stacking both Nutella crepes and waffles, with each of those orders also scoring a free jar of the spread to-go. World Nutella Day runs from 8am–3pm. [caption id="attachment_841133" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Cannoleria[/caption]
It's been a hot and sticky start to the year; but this weekend, you can cool things down a notch with an evening of classical tunes from the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. The MSO returns to Bunjil Place on Saturday, January 29, for the next installation of the entertainment precinct's Summer Symphony series. Kicking off from 7.30pm, the all-ages concert will treat your ears to classical works from the likes of Aaron Copland, Astor Piazzolla and Johann Strauss II, interspersed with more contemporary tunes. Alongside the musical offerings, you'll also catch stunning performance pieces from diversity-focused Victorian arts group Sangam, as they deliver world premieres of two works, Encounters: Seen and Unseen and New Homes: Loss and Hope. Tickets to the evening show come in at $10, which includes a non-alcoholic drink or glass of bubbles.
Looking for new threads? Sure, you can head to plenty of markets around town, and trawl through food, homeware and other objects — or you can mosey along to Melbourne's dedicated sustainable ladies fashion get-together. Round She Goes does one thing, and it does it well. If it's clothing, accessories and jewellery you're after, you'll find it here. Filled with preloved designer and vintage wares, the one-day fashion market is back for 2022, taking over Coburg Town Hall from 10am–3pm on Sunday, April 10. Expect a heap of stalls, specially curated by organisers to deliver a hefty selection of reasonably priced, high-quality pieces from the 40s through to today. The lineup ranges from beloved brands to handmade items to wardrobe clear-outs by some of Melbourne's most fashionable women, with 50 stallholders set to make an appearance. Entry costs $4, plus there'll be specialty coffee to keep you fuelled and tasty eats from the Kimu Korean Japanese food truck.
Easter in Sydney doesn't just mean chocolate, hot cross buns and whatever other sweet treats the city's eateries happen to come up with at this time of year — it also means the Sydney Royal Easter Show. And, while you won't find the latter at El Camino Cantina's Tex-Mex joint in Melbourne, of course, the chain is getting into the spirit of the event nationwide with its limited-edition margarita menu, which it has dubbed 'the Royal Rita Show'. For its latest batch of creative flavours, El Camino Cantina is serving up Jelly Belly, Warhead, Chupa Chup and Kinder Surprise margs. There are Trolli Lolli and Rainbow Nerd versions, too. Basically, it's the candy and booze combination you obviously didn't know you'd someday want when you were a kid. These lolly-flavoured ritas are on offer from Tuesday, April 5–Saturday, April 30, costing $20 for a 15-oz glass, $24 for the 20-oz size and $35 for a tasting paddle of four 220-millilitre glasses. And if you'd like to pair them with tacos, you'll find a Royal Rita Show food menu on offer as well; think tacos with popcorn chicken, chorizo and potato hash, slow-cooked barbecue brisket, and prawns with bacon. In Melbourne, you'll find both the margs and tacos tempting your tastebuds at El Camino in Fitzroy.
Broadway and West End smash An American in Paris is singing and dancing its way into Melbourne, with the four-time Tony-winner bringing its Australian run of shows to the State Theatre, Arts Centre Melbourne, from Friday, March 18–Saturday, April 23. The dazzling show is based on the 1951 film of the same name so yes, if you're a fan of classic movies — and classic big-screen musicals starring none other than the inimitable Gene Kelly at that — its name will definitely sound familiar. Story-wise, the musical follows the Parisian exploits of ex-US GI Jerry Mulligan (because its moniker is that straightforward). Set at the end of the Second World War, it charts the budding romance between the newly-free American and a French woman, Lise Bouvier. Your classic boy-meets-girl, with old-world charm, the beauty of Paris and Broadway class. Bringing the Oscar-winning 71-year-old film to the stage, this version of An American in Paris is directed by acclaimed contemporary ballet choreographer Christopher Wheeldon — and adapted for theatre and choreographed by him, too. The Aussie run is also being staged in collaboration with the Australian Ballet, so expect to see some of their dancers helping to bring the musical to life. George and Ira Gershwin's songs make the leap to the theatre as well, including 'I Got Rhythm', 'S Wonderful', 'But Not For Me' and 'They Can't Take That Away From Me'. An American in Paris debuted in Paris — where else? — in 2014, before hitting Broadway, Boston and West End. If you are after a night of spectacular dance and the joy of new romance, with all the Broadway dazzle, this is the show for you. To book your tickets, head to the website. Images: Tristram Kenton.
Twenty-six years after a Neve Campbell, Courteney Cox and David Arquette-starring film about small-town murders thoroughly revitalised the slasher genre, the Scream franchise returned in 2022 to take another stab at cinema glory. Because some things just won't die in the horror realm (see also: the Halloween, Saw, The Grudge, The Ring and Child's Play sagas), the Ghostface killer yet again stalked Woodsboro, and also terrorised a scary movie that once more mixed slasher thrills with self-aware laughs — and was just called Scream, too. Haven't already seen the new Scream in a cinema? That's the best place to see all horror movies, obviously, and it's where this fivequel is showing again on Saturday, March 5. Well, actually, by the time that The Astor Theatre's Scream-a-Thon works through the four other Scream flicks first, you'll actually be watching it in the early hours of Sunday, March 6. If you like scary movies, you'll want to spook yourself silly at this big overnight marathon, which is showing the whole big-screen franchise. It all kicks off at 9pm, and a love of this Wes Craven-started franchise is obviously a must — and yes, you can expect to see folks wearing Ghostface masks, obviously.
The last time that Joaquin Phoenix appeared in cinemas, he played an overlooked and unheard man. "You don't listen, do you?" Arthur Fleck asked his social worker, and the entirety of Joker — and of Phoenix's magnetic Oscar-winning performance as the Batman foe in the 2019 film, too — provided the obvious answer. Returning to the big screen in a feature that couldn't be more different to his last, Phoenix now plays a professional listener. A radio journalist and podcaster who'd slide in seamlessly alongside Ira Glass on America's NPR, Johnny's niche is chatting with children. Travelling around the country from his New York base, C'mon C'mon's protagonist seeks thoughts about life, hopes, dreams, the future and the world in general, but never in a Kids Say the Darndest Things-type fashion. As Phoenix's sensitive, pensive gaze conveys under the tender guidance of Beginners and 20th Century Women filmmaker Mike Mills, Johnny truly and gratefully hears what his young interviewees utter. Phoenix is all gentle care, quiet understanding and rippling melancholy as Johnny. All naturalism and attentiveness as well, he's also firmly at his best, no matter what's inscribed on his Academy Award. Here, Phoenix is as phenomenal as he was in his career highlight to-date, aka the exceptional You Were Never Really Here, in a part that again has his character pushed out of his comfort zone by a child. C'mon C'mon's Johnny spends his days talking with kids, but that doesn't mean he's equipped to look after his nine-year-old nephew Jesse (Woody Norman, The War of the Worlds) in Los Angeles when his sister Viv (Gaby Hoffmann, Transparent) needs to assist her husband Paul (Scoot McNairy, A Quiet Place Part II) with his mental health. Johnny and Viv haven't spoken since their mother died a year earlier, and Johnny has previously overstepped when it comes to Paul — with the siblings' relationship so precarious that he barely knows Jesse — but volunteering to help is his immediate reflex. As captured in soft, luxe, nostalgic shades of greyscale by always-remarkable cinematographer Robbie Ryan (see also: I, Daniel Blake, American Honey, The Favourite and Marriage Story), Johnny takes to his time with Jesse as any uncle suddenly thrust into a 24/7 caregiving role that doesn't exactly come naturally would. Jesse also reacts as expected, handling the situation as any bright and curious kid whose world swiftly changes, and who finds himself with a new and different role model, is going to. But C'mon C'mon is extraordinary not because its instantly familiar narrative sees Johnny and Jesse learn life lessons from each other, and their bond grow stronger the longer they spend in each other's company — but because this tremendously moving movie repeatedly surprises with its depth, insights, and lively sparks of both adult and childhood life. It's styled to look like a memory, and appreciates how desperately parents and guardians want to create such happy recollections for kids, but C'mon C'mon feels unshakeably lived-in rather than wistful. It doesn't pine for times gone by; instead, the film recognises the moments that linger in the now. It spies how the collection of ordinary, everyday experiences that Johnny and Jesse cycle through all add up to something that's equally commonplace, universally relatable and special, too. Conveying that sentiment, but never by being sentimental, has long been one of Mills' great powers as a filmmaker. He makes pictures so alive with real emotion that they clearly belong to someone, and yet also resonate with everyone all at once. With C'mon C'mon, the writer/director draws upon his own time as a parent, after taking inspiration from his relationship with his father in Beginners, and from his connection to his mother and his own upbringing in 20th Century Women. The conversations that the rumpled Johnny and precocious Jesse exchange might be exactly the kind that adults and children always have — the earnest talks that Johnny has with his interview subjects as well, which help place the movie's musings in a broader context — but that doesn't make them any less perceptive and memorable. The key to the film is the key to its central duo's blossoming bond, to Johnny's rapport with the kids on his podcast, and to everything that Phoenix as Arthur Fleck wanted and demanded: genuinely listening. C'mon C'mon builds wonderfully detailed and intricate character studies by doing just that with Johnny and Jesse — and, albeit in less screentime, with Viv. Trips around the US play like big adventures, including when Jesse keeps wanting to explore NY and laps up a New Orleans street parade, but the contents of late-night phone calls, the newly single Johnny's diary-like recorded dispatches about his days, Viv's maternal routine and Jesse's favourite play-acting game — where he pretends he's an orphan — frequently feel just as immense. As C'mon C'mon observes and unfurls these textured slices of life, it also takes the act of listening as seriously as Johnny does. Mills has directed a gorgeous-looking film, any frame of which would make a postcard-perfect memory — its closeups are revelatory, its wide shots that place its characters in their surroundings while surveying the minutiae around them are transcendent — but his soundscape does just as much essential work. Viewers hear the hustle and bustle, the noise of the street, the silence that lingers indoors and the clattering chaos one small boy can incite. Jesse hears it, too, and soon becomes enamoured with listening through his uncle's headphones as Johnny records on-the-ground material for his podcast. The National's Bryce and Aaron Dessner also layer in a melodic and dreamy score that both sets and suits the reflective and warm-hearted mood, while the soundtrack's jumps between genres — opera, Lou Reed and Lee Scratch Perry included — are dynamic. For all of Mills' outstanding choices with C'mon C'mon, a feature filled with them, the care and love he gives his characters and ushers out of his actors is his biggest feat. Phoenix's endlessly impressive work as a man both exhausted and rewarded by pseudo-parenthood is matched by Norman, who turns in a spontaneous and instinctive performance, and by the ever-reliable Hoffman as a woman constantly striving for her own space beyond her roles as a mother, partner and sister. Indeed, watching them together, and seeing their reactions and responses while talking to each other via phone, is as crucial as hearing every word spoken. Yes, C'mon C'mon listens devotedly, but it's just as committed to simply being in these characters' presence, soaking in all that comes with it, and finding the aching and affecting truth in every second.
Some folks just know how to rock a moustache. When Kenneth Branagh (Tenet) stepped into super-sleuth Hercule Poirot's shoes in 2017's Murder on the Orient Express, he clearly considered himself to be one of them. The actor and filmmaker didn't simply play Agatha Christie's famously moustachioed Belgian detective, but also directed the movie — and he didn't miss a chance to showcase his own performance, as well as that hair adorning his top lip. You don't need to be a world-renowned investigator to deduce that Branagh was always going to repeat the same tricks with sequel Death on the Nile, or to pick that stressing the character's distinctive look and accompanying bundle of personality quirks would again take centre stage. But giving Poirot's 'stache its own black-and-white origin story to start the new movie truly is the height of indulgence. Branagh has previously covered a superhero's beginnings in the initial Thor flick, and also stepped into his own childhood in Belfast, so explaining why Poirot sports his elaborately styled mo — how it came to be, and what it means to him emotionally, too — is just another example of the director doing something he obviously loves. That early hirsute focus sets the tone for Death on the Nile, though, and not as Branagh and returning screenwriter Michael Green (Jungle Cruise) must've intended. Viewers are supposed to get a glimpse at what lies beneath Poirot's smarts and deductive savvy by literally peering beneath his brush-like under-nostril bristles, but all that emerges is routine and formulaic filler. That's the film from its hairy opening to its entire trip through Egypt. At least the moustache looks more convincing than the sets and CGI that are passed off as the pyramids, Abu Simbel and cruising the titular waterway. It's 1937, three years after the events of Murder on the Orient Express, and Poirot is holidaying in Egypt. While drinking tea with a vantage out over the country's unconvincingly computer-generated towering wonders, he chances across his old pal Bouc (Tom Bateman, Behind Her Eyes) and his mother Euphemia (Annette Bening, Hope Gap), who invite him to join their own trip — which doubles as a honeymoon for just-married heiress Linnet Ridgeway (Gal Gadot, Red Notice) and her new husband Simon Doyle (Armie Hammer, Crisis). Poirot obliges, but he's also surprised by the happy couple. Six weeks earlier, he saw them get introduced by Linnet's now-former friend and Simon's now ex-fiancée Jacqueline de Bellefort (Emma Mackey, Sex Education). That awkward history isn't easily forgotten by the central duo, either, given that Jackie has followed them with a view to winning Simon back. Boating down the Nile is initially an escape plan, whisking the newlyweds away from their obsessive stalker. But even as the group — which includes jazz singer Salome Otterbourne (Sophie Okonedo, Wild Rose), her niece and Linnet's school friend Rosalie (Letitia Wright, Black Panther), the bride's own ex-fiancé Linus Windlesham (Russell Brand, Four Kids and It), her lawyer Andrew Katchadourian (Ali Fazal, Victoria and Abdul), her assistant Louise Bourget (Rose Leslie, Game of Thrones), her godmother Marie Van Schuyler (Jennifer Saunders, Absolutely Fabulous: The Movie) and the latter's nurse Mrs Bowers (Dawn French, The Vicar of Dibley) — adjust to the change of schedule, two things were always going to happen. The pouty Jacqueline can't be thwarted that easily, of course. Also, the fact that there'll soon be a murder for Poirot to solve is right there in the movie's moniker. Something that doesn't occur: evoking much in the way of interest in any of the film's characters, their fates and — seeing that the killer lurks among them — their motivations. This absence of intrigue springs from the same problem that plagued Murder on the Orient Express, because Branagh is still too enamoured with himself as Poirot to give his co-stars anything substantial to do. Almost anyone could've played the S.S. Karnak's passengers, aka a Christie-standard motley crew, as that's how little a splash this cast makes. Gadot does declare that the steamboat has "enough champagne to fill the Nile" like she's in a camp farce, which definitely stands out, but mostly Death on the Nile is an exercise in squandering talent. Bening is woefully underused, and Saunders and French's on-screen reunion is a wasted comic opportunity. It speaks volumes that an on-autopilot Hammer, aka the one star Branagh might now wish faded into the background, is so prominent. It also helps remind viewers that the flick is stale in multiple ways: shot in 2019, it was originally slated to release that December. Production delays, COVID-19 and just general release-schedule tinkering mean that Death on the Nile now arrives after Belfast, which Branagh made during the pandemic — and the films' close proximity to each other doesn't help this whodunnit. The man behind the two movies has always liked on-screen excess, even if he's not in the centre of the frame, but here all of his visual bombast plays like meaningless gloss. The swooping camerawork doesn't quite sell the extravagant setting as much as it exposes Branagh's style-first approach, and demonstrates a lack of care about whether he's drawing the audience into the story. Cameras circle, the score soars and the feature is fashioned like an epic, but like the cruise's victims, there's no sign of a pulse. The inconsistent pacing, dragging through the setup and then speeding through Poirot's crucial sleuthing like it couldn't be over fast enough, also lands a fatal blow. It doesn't help that the film's also-lacking predecessor already felt like it was stretching its setup, and jumping on a trend that'd seen plenty of other brilliant masterminds reach screens lately (at the time, Sherlock Holmes adaptations were everywhere, or so it seemed). Now, Death on the Nile sails into a world where Knives Out did the eccentric detective bit far smarter and better, that delightful hit is similarly getting a sequel this year, and the likes of Only Murders in the Building and The Afterparty have been unfurling immensely entertaining murder-mystery antics in streaming queues, too. Mostly, though, Branagh's second Poirot outing suffers from being so infatuated with what Murder on the Orient Express did to box-office success — and what the filmmaker himself did as its star — that it's largely happy to merely repeat the feat. There's more moustache here, and an evident effort to spin the plot's threads around love's tangled webs, but neither was ever going to keep this bogged-down slog afloat.
With her song and record titles — her lyrics as well — Courtney Barnett has long found the words to express how many people feel. It's a knack, talent and gift, and it's helped her rocket to Australian fame and global success within a decade of releasing her debut EP in 2012. As thoughtful and captivating documentary Anonymous Club shows, it's also something she's frequently asked about in interviews. But expressing those lines and the emotions behind them with a guitar and microphone as weapons, plus a riotous melody as armour, is different to sharing them quietly one on one. Directed by her long-time collaborator Danny Cohen, who has helmed a number of her music videos, Anonymous Club begins with this reality. Barnett can pour her heart, soul and observations about life's chaos into the tunes that've made her a household name, achieving something that few others can; when she's on the spot, however, she's as uncertain and awkward as the rest of us. Barnett's way with words and wordplay in her work, and her lack thereof elsewhere, thrums through Anonymous Club like a catchy riff. The subject doesn't fade, burrowing into the film as an earworm of a song inside a listener's head does, and feature first-timer Cohen doesn't want it to. His movie was shot over three years, starting in 2018, which places it between Barnett's second studio album and her third — and knowing that makes the phrases from their titles, and from her debut record also, echo with resonance throughout the doco. Anonymous Club could've been called Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit, like its subject's first album in 2015. Tell Me How You Really Feel from 2018 would've worked as well. And, yes, Things Take Time, Take Time would've been apt, too, concluding a line of thinking that the film invites anyway — ultimately finding its moniker in a Barnett track from 2014, before all those releases. Across two tours spanning Europe, the US and Asia, plus stints in Melbourne, Anonymous Club watches Barnett sit and think, and sometimes just sit. It tasks the singer/songwriter with telling how she really feels, and shows her realising the truth that things take time. All of the above is captured on glorious 16-millimetre film and, even within a mere 83 minutes, the backstage documentary is overwhelming comprised of these ruminative, reflective moments — of snatches of Barnett's life caught as she hops between rooms that aren't her own, be it stages or green rooms or hotels or homes she's housesitting. Her thoughts and feelings come via brief chatter in front of the lens (or, more accurately, with the unseen Cohen behind it, shooting with a camera customised to record synchronised sound), and from overlaid snippets of the audio diary he asked her to keep. That's a job she tussles with — more words, more on-the-spot candour rather than deliberated-over lyrics, more struggles — but she still stuck at it for the project's duration. Frank, earnest and honest, so much of what's uttered is as revelatory as everything that Barnett has sung over the years. She confides in the fly-on-the-wall film via her Dictaphone recordings; as a result, a highly poised, posed, image-conscious portrait, this isn't. "I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about anymore. I just feel like I'm going around in circles and digging myself a deeper hole," she says at one point, and many other statements have the same tone. Jumping from America to Japan to Germany and elsewhere, life on the road gets to her. Back in Australia, life without a fixed space to call her own after spending so long touring has a similar impact. "My heart is empty, my head is empty, the page is empty," she offers, another telling statement. "It feels like I'm being part of this scripted performance of what we think we're supposed to see on stage, and it just feels really pointless," she also advises. There's raw feeling behind these words, and Cohen wouldn't have it any other way; Barnett uses her work to wittily and astutely contemplate everyday life, and he does the same with her rockstar existence in his doco. Of course, one of its insights, blatant as it proves, is how anti-rockstar the indie musician's day-to-day reality is. She gets excited about gold in her Berlin lodgings, her unassuming vibe has crowds mesmerised during her shows, and she needs prompting about lyrics when one fan asks her to sign his t-shirt with her own — but much of her days, as seen here, are a quiet, busy shuffle from place to place with swathes of downtime and alone time. Cohen and editor Ben Hall (another veteran of Barnett's videos) convey this in the movie's structure, too. The big-ticket parts of the tours — the gigs, travelling, and interviews with Jimmy Fallon and Ellen DeGeneres — whiz by, while the gap around them lingers. Anonymous Club is a music documentary, but it isn't a concert movie. It knows where Barnett's career is at, the path she took to get there and how she's regarded, but it isn't a career overview or talking head-filled tribute. It features gig footage, but largely spliced into montages instead of as whole songs played on-stage. It thoroughly avoids other chattering figures — be it fellow musicians offering their praise, experts and commentators, or friends and family — in favour of its intimate, personal, in-the-room, inner monologue-driven approach. It's a road movie, but it's about the experience of being on tour over the tour itself or the places visited. Anonymous Club is about spending time and hanging out with Barnett, and about what it's like to be Barnett; melancholy, anxiousness, claustrophobia, doubt, fears, malaise and imposter syndrome come with the territory, relatably so. Cohen isn't advising viewers that stars are people too, though. Again, this isn't that kind of message-pushing, persona-redefining doco. He makes it plain that this one figure is a person first and a famous musician second — and chronicles the process of constantly juggling and balancing the two, and the impact upon her mental health. His chosen aesthetic suits the job perfectly, playing like warm, soft, unprocessed memories, and also relishing blue shades in both pensive and hopeful moments. As its revealing journey is wrapping up, Barnett finds herself more in the second category, and has the words to explain it. "My albums won't be with me on my deathbed holding my hand," she notes. "This film will not be with us as we lie dying — but I'd like to think in the bigger scheme of things, it will live on and help other people, or inspire other people, or create some sort of conversation."
The first few months of the year now done and dusted can only mean one thing in Melbourne: the footy's back. And this month, with our homegrown code now back home, Melbourne is in for the grittiest, toughest, edge-of-your-seat, double-header period on the calendar: the final round of the thrilling 2022 NAB AFLW season and the return of the Toyota AFL Premiership Season. To mark the occasion, the AFL is throwing a massive Festival of Footy. With 12 matches across ten days — and crowd capacity back up to 100 percent — you can experience the pure adrenaline (both yours and the stellar lineup of players), see hard-hitting tackles (that'd be the players') and plenty of family-friendly activities to keep even the most reluctant of footy fans happy. [caption id="attachment_845691" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Graham Denholm (AFL Photos/Getty Images)[/caption] As well as unmissable matches being played at the MCG, Marvel Stadium and Arden Street Oval, the MCG-adjacent Yarra Park will transform into a Festival of Footy live site – a lively hub of camaraderie and healthy competition fit for your whole gang. Head down to the green for food trucks serving up both classic and adventurous bites, a pop-up barber shop, organised games and live performances. Combined with generous giveaways and free entry, it's the perfect scene for a footy-fuelled day out. Signalling the start of the final round of this year's AFLW home-and-away season, the footy-lovers' playground will officially open at 6pm on Friday, March 11, and hold strong til 9pm. It'll also come alive every game day of the final round of the women's league, and the first round of the men's. For more information about the Festival of Footy, head to the website. Top images: Michael Willson (AFL Photos), Graham Denholm (AFL Photos/Getty Images)
This state of ours boasts some top-notch wining and dining — and this weekend, a taste of it is set to descend on an inner-city patch of parkland for one big day of gustatory goodness. The East Malvern Food & Wine Festival returns for its fifth outing, taking over Central Park on Sunday, March 27. Nab yourself a $20 entry ticket and head along to sample top local drops from producers including Innocent Bystander, Heathcote Winery and Wren Estate, before levelling up your knowledge at an expert masterclass by wine educator Nicole Gow. You can mosey through the dedicated craft beer and cider zone, tasting sips from the likes of Deeds Brewing, Sip and Eddies Cider, stocking up on your favourites as you go. And once you've worked up an appetite, hit up the abundant food offering courtesy of vendors like 48h Pizza & Gnocchi Bar, The Smoke Pit, Pressed Waffle Bar and Nepal Dining. Market stalls will be slinging an array of artisan goodies; including quality cheese and food products you can assemble for a lazy picnic in front of the live music stage. Elsewhere, swing by the prosecco and oyster stall for a luxe food pairing; taste some artisan spirits from labels like Brix Distillers and That Spirited Lot; and grab yourself one of Luvlee Gourmet's handmade ice creams.
Turning your phone off during a movie is cinema etiquette 101. Not kicking the seat in front of you, or talking during the film, or taking in food with aromas so pungent they stink out the whole theatre — they're all on the list as well. Usually, so is wearing clothes; however, the returning Fantastic Film Festival Australia is making attire optional for one of its 2022 sessions. One of Australia's film fests dedicated to weird and wonderful cinema — a tranche of flicks so glorious that several events celebrate them — FFFA is back for another year, screening at Lido Cinemas in Hawthorn from Thursday, April 21–Friday, May 6. It has just unveiled its full 2022 lineup, too, and its naked screening certainly deserves attention. The fest debuted the concept last year, and it's bringing it back this year. Even better: you'll be getting your kit off to mark the 25th anniversary of The Full Monty. Stripping off while seeing a classic movie about men stripping isn't the only highlight of this year's program, of course — and yes, if you want to see Robert Carlyle and company while remaining dressed, you can leave your hat on (and the rest of your clothing as well). The attire-optional session sits alongside other standouts such as opening night's viking epic The Northman, starring Alexander Skarsgård and Nicole Kidman, and directed by The Witch and The Lighthouse's Robert Eggers; closing night's New York Ninja, which was shot in 1984, only finished in 2021 and follows a vigilante tale; and a 4K restoration of the inimitable 1981 great Possession starring a young Sam Neill and always-wonderful Isabelle Adjani (The World Is Yours). In total, 22 features and eight shorts and special events sit on this lineup of strange, surreal, out-there and purposely offbeat flicks. We're All Going to the World's Fair arrives from Sundance, combining psychological horror with a coming-of-age story — and a storyline about an online roleplaying game — while French film After Blue is a sci-fi western fantasy about a mother and daughter tracking a killer in toxic forests. There's also indie animation Absolute Denial, which has been compared to Frankenstein but in a digital world; Agnes, which explores a case of demonic possession in a convent; Japan's Dreams on Fire, featuring acclaimed dancer Bambi Naka in her first lead role; Norwegian nightmare The Innocents, as directed by The Worst Person in the World co-writer Eskil Vogt; and The Timekeepers of Eternity, which is adapted from Stephen King novella The Langoliers. On the events bill, FFFA is hosting Music Video Blind Date, to connect Melbourne musos with filmmakers in the hopes of making music video magic — and, thanks to an evening called Cinema 1 Nightclub, it's getting DJ Female Wizard to spin tunes inside a theatre while artist Baben Shin provides the visuals.
There are few things in life as good as a heaping bowl of pasta. And so, you'd best brush up on your fork-twirling skills because next month, Melbourne's getting an entire weekend devoted to the classic carb-based dish. Yep, pasta is the star of the show at the Melbourne Food and Wine Festival's upcoming shindig, The Big Spaghetti. Taking over Queen Victoria Market for a full-blown pasta party on Saturday, April 2, and Sunday, April 3, the event's set to deliver a tasty mash-up of Italian street fair and bustling hawker market. You'll find food stalls from some of Melbourne's favourite pasta-slinging restaurants, including Tipo 00, Pastore, Marameo, Lagotto, Mister Bianco and more. Browse the offering and sample over 20 different smash-hit pasta dishes, plus Italian-leaning snacks, and desserts like Pidapipo's Crema and Nutella Colomba toast with hazelnut Croccante gelato. That's Amore will be doing a four-cheese spaghetti served in a 40-kilogram cheese wheel, and there'll be a 'pasta wheel of fortune' to spin if you're feeling lucky. Also throughout the day, you'll get to catch live tunes, enjoy guest chef cooking demos and sip Italian-wine varietals courtesy of Pizzini. Plus, don't forget to down a few Italian-inspired cocktails while you're there. Top Image: Marameo's crab spaghetti, by Kristoffer Paulsen
