UPDATE, December 23, 2022: The Batman is available to stream via Netflix, Binge, Google Play, YouTube Movies, iTunes and Prime Video. When The Batman begins (not to be confused with Batman Begins), it's with the slaying of a powerful Gotham figure. A shocking crime that scandalises the city, it leaves a traumatised boy behind, and couldn't be more influential in the detective-style tale of blood and vengeance that follows. But viewers haven't seen this story before, despite appearances. It isn't the start of pop culture's lonesome billionaire orphan's usual plight, although he's there, all dressed in black, and has an instant affinity for the sorrowful kid. Behold the first standout feat achieved by this excellent latest take on the Dark Knight (not to be confused with The Dark Knight): realising that no one needs to see Bruce Wayne's parents meet their end for what'd feel like the millionth time. The elder Waynes are still dead, and have been for two decades. Bruce (Robert Pattinson, Tenet) still festers with pain over their loss. And the prince of Gotham still turns vigilante by night, cleaning up the lawless streets one no-good punk at a time with only trusty butler Alfred Pennyworth (Andy Serkis, Long Shot) in on his secret. As directed by Dawn of the Planet of the Apes and War for the Planet of the Apes' Matt Reeves, and co-scripted with The Unforgivable's Peter Craig, The Batman clocks something crucial about its namesake and the audiences that watch him, however. The caped crusader's every move stems from his inescapable grief as always, but no one has to witness its origins yet again to glean why he's become the conflicted protector of his anarchic city. Instead, here he's overtly anguished, upset, broken, broiling with hurt and working his way through those feelings in each affray — a suave, smooth and slick one-percenter playboy in his downtime, he isn't — and it's a more absorbing version of the character than seen in many of the past Bat flicks that've fluttered through cinemas. Why so serious? That question is answered quickly. Also, badging Pattinson's turn in the cape and cowl 'emo Batman' is 100-percent accurate. It's meant to be, because violence isn't just about experiencing or inflicting pain, but also about processing the emotions stirred up. Apply the label to The Batman's unrelentingly dark and rainy aesthetic as well and, once again, it suits. Lensed with such an eye for the absence of light by Australian cinematographer Greig Fraser (a Dune Oscar-nominee) that he's painting with the shadowiest of shadows, this is a grimmer Batman than Christopher Nolan's trilogy, moodier than Ben Affleck's stint, and gloomier than the Michael Keaton, Val Kilmer and George Clooney-starring movies (not to mention the upbeat and campy 60s TV series that gave us the Batusi). Like teen shows, the tone of any given Batman entry reflects the surrounding times, and the tenor here is bleak, bruised and battered. Call the prevailing batmosphere cinema's own bat-signal and that's oh-so-fitting, too. Batman is bruised and battered himself in The Batman. He flinches when jumping from skyscrapers in his winged batsuit, grimaces upon impact and sports contusions beneath his mask before that. In spurts of Taxi Driver-style narration — where he could be one of screenwriter Paul Schrader's lonely men wrestling with the world (see also: The Card Counter) — he seethes about his self-appointed task, past and the state of Gotham, exposing his psychological scars as well. That doesn't change when a serial killer who dubs himself The Riddler (Paul Dano, Okja) and must love David Fincher movies (Seven and Zodiac especially) commits The Batman's opening murder, the first in a chain targeting the city's elite. This other angry mask-wearing vigilante is also waging a war on Gotham's corruption, and leaving puzzles to be solved along the way — with Batman assisting police lieutenant Jim Gordon (Jeffrey Wright, The French Dispatch), and being aided by nightclub waiter-cum-cat burglar Selina Kyle (Zoë Kravitz, Kimi) in turn. What makes one man's angst-riddled quest noble but the other's deranged? As The Batman broods over that conundrum, the line between its titular figure and The Riddler is the finest it has perhaps ever been. Reeves isn't interested in another hero-with-a-sob-story spin on Batman, but in surveying the tragedy that seeps through his grimy and dank rendering of Gotham — yes, even dimmer than in Joker — and plotting the choices that spirit its abandoned residents towards either improving or destroying the city. The longer he chases The Riddler, via altercations with crime kingpin Carmine Falcone (John Turturro, Severance) and club-owner Oswald 'The Penguin' Cobblepot (Colin Farrell, The North Water), the more that Bruce/Batman flies parallel to his new foe. Selina slinks along a similar route, too, as coloured by her own history — plus the missing friend she's desperate to find, which is what connects her with Batman to start with. This many different Batman films and shows in, it isn't easy to make the Dark Knight an entrancing and surprising character again — Christian Bale did, Affleck didn't — but Pattinson's casting is exceptional. Since he stopped visibly sparkling in the Twilight saga, his role choices have been near-impeccable as Cosmopolis, The Rover, Maps to the Stars, The Lost City of Z, Good Time, High Life and The Lighthouse have shown, and The Batman slides seamlessly into his enviable recent resume. There's soulfulness and tension to his portrayal of the Gotham crusader's inner turmoil, not just matching the Nirvana's 'Something in the Way'-meets-'Ave Maria'-soundtracked mood of melancholy, but also rippling in every glance, glare, step, jump and thrown fist. There's also a deep-seated intensity; a willingness to play both Bruce and Batman as weird, awkward and unsettled; and a welcome lack of boundaries between his character's two personas. Reeves hasn't just scored a pitch-perfect lead, though. At just a batwing's flap shy of three hours, his film comes packed more convenient plot developments than necessary, but it has time to cement the savvy Kravitz among the most memorable versions of Catwoman — and to refreshingly play up her sexual tension with Batman. It also ensures that the quietly commanding Wright, hypnotically unhinged Dano and prosthetics-laden Farrell all have room to shine, though The Penguin is hardly a big player. It gives the latest Batmobile a helluva revved-up entrance and breathlessly thrilling car chase, and lets wide-framed, rhythmically choreographed action scenes roll long so that viewers feel the toll they wage on the movie's main man. Spotting everything that influenced The Batman isn't an enigma, of course, and The Riddler would be thoroughly disappointed. But the way that everything is spliced and shaken together, and the mood — and it's definitely a mood — makes this weighty, heavy, sublimely shot, excellently cast, always-engaging blockbuster feel new, and all things Batman with it.
This article is sponsored by our partners, lululemon. Not only is yoga everywhere right now, so is that most stylish of yogi clothiers, lululemon athletica. Now the group who taught us that sports gear could also be fashionable is getting us psyched for the grand opening of their new Highpoint store with a night of psychedelic yoga classes. Taking place at an old power station in Melbourne's inner-west, Yoga to the Beat trades in beachside locations and Tibetan wind chimes for an urban underground adventure. When was the last time your yoga class was accompanied by live DJ beats, drumming and UV bodypaint? This ain't the sort of yoga class to bring your nanna to. Throw in complimentary refreshments to go with your entirely complimentary evening and you've got Monday sorted. To experience yoga in its most cutting-edge form, come along on Monday, June 3, from 6.30-8.30pm. Mat places are limited, so RSVP by May 29 by emailing highpoint-store@lululemon.com.
Sometimes, you just need to lose yourself in the strange and the surreal — especially if you've just spent months and months at home during lockdown. Patricia Piccinini's artworks offer that experience, whether they're floating through the sky or filling cavernous rooms with intriguing creatures. So, the return of her latest exhibition to Melbourne really couldn't come sooner. From Monday, November 8, A Miracle Constantly Repeated will again take over the usually closed Flinders Street Station Ballroom. The installation was originally announced as part of this year's brand-new Rising Festival, but the Melbourne arts event was impacted by Victoria's late-May lockdown. Then, Piccinini's latest creation had its season extended back at the end of July; however, we all know that another lockdown kicked in not long afterwards. A Miracle Constantly Repeated will now display until Sunday, June 12, 2022. Expect it to prove popular — when it was able to welcome in punters before July, it attracted close to 20,000 visitors. It's easy to see why folks were flocking along, given that all of Piccinini's signature touches are evident in its rooms of twisted flowers and eccentric bodies — and, whenever you walk through the former, it really does feel like stepping onto another planet. A Miracle Constantly Repeated also marks the Melbourne creative's first hometown show in almost two decades, in a venue that hasn't been open to the public in more than 30 years until this exhibition. Both Flinders Street Station Ballroom and nine other surrounding rooms play host to Piccinini's pieces, with the overall exhibition designed to showcase the site. The artist has crafted the installation to respond to the space as an organic environment, in fact so expect to see her critters placed amongst peeling paint and sat next to left-behind filing cabinets. Images: Eugene Hyland.
Before it was a ten-part Prime Video series, Daisy Jones & The Six was a book. And before Taylor Jenkins Reid's 2019 novel jumped back to the 70s rock scene, Fleetwood Mac lived through, stunned and shaped the era. No matter where or when an adaptation popped up, or who took to the microphone and guitar in it, bringing Daisy Jones & The Six to the screen was always going to involve leaning into Mick Fleetwood, Stevie Nicks, John McVie, Christine McVie and company's story. Reid has said that she took loose inspiration from the band; "it's a Fleetwood Mac vibe," she's also noted. Those parallels are as obvious as a killer lyric in Daisy Jones & The Six. Creators Scott Neustadter and Michael H Weber have a recent history of riffing on true and classic tales, too — their last two projects were The Disaster Artist, which they co-scripted based on Greg Sestero's memoir about making Tommy Wiseau's The Room; and Rosaline, a retelling of William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet from the titular Romeo-spurned character's perspective. With directors James Ponsoldt (The End of the Tour), Nzingha Stewart (Inventing Anna) and Will Graham (A League of Their Own), the duo approach Daisy Jones & The Six exactly as that pedigree brings to mind: it's heightened, impressively cast, and well-versed in what it's tinkering with and recreating; it also isn't afraid of romance and tragedy, or of characters going all-in for what and who they're passionate about. On the page, this melodramatic tale of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll unspools as an oral history. On streaming, it's framed by two-decades-later documentary interviews where key figures — Daisy Jones (Riley Keough, Zola), members of The Six and other pivotal folks in their careers — share memories to-camera. The eponymous musicians burned bright but flamed out fast together, opening text on-screen informs the audience before anyone gets talking. A huge stadium gig at Chicago's Soldier Field late in 1977 was their last, coming at the height of their popularity after releasing hit Rumours-esque record Aurora. Viewers immediately know the ending, then, but not what leads to that fate. Introduced in the show's flashbacks as the ignored child of wealthy parents, Daisy couldn't be more obsessed with music. A childhood spent internalising her mother's cruel comments that she doesn't have the voice or talent to follow her dreams holds her back in Daisy Jones & The Six's first episode, however, even as she couldn't spend more time hopping between Sunset Strip's venues. Cue another piece of IRL rock history, of course, thanks to Keough's pitch-perfect casting. She doesn't play her part like she's playing Elvis Presley's granddaughter — aka herself — but she makes fantastic use of her rockstar genes, including in her energy, swagger, stare, volatile temperament, and all the ferocious singing that the American Honey, The Girlfriend Experience and The Lodge star does herself. Daisy Jones & The Six takes its time putting the two parts of its moniker together, but follows The Six's origins from the outset as well, when Billy Dunne (Sam Claflin, Book of Love) agrees to front his younger brother Graham's (Will Harrison, Madam Secretary) high-school band. The full group initially spans guitarist Eddie Roundtree (Josh Whitehouse, Valley Girl), drummer Warren Rojas (Sebastian Chacon, Emergency) and bassist Chuck Loving (Jack Romano, Mank). But when dental school and the security it represents beckons the latter, and British keyboardist Karen Sirko (Suki Waterhouse, The Broken Hearts Gallery) joins their number, there's still just five band members moving from Pittsburgh to Los Angeles to make a proper go of it after tour manager Rod Reyes (Timothy Olyphant, Amsterdam) tells them that's where the serious action is at. Aspiring photographer Camila (Camila Morrone, also a Valley Girl alum) is the sixth person with The Six; she's Eddie's crush but Billy's girlfriend, then his wife and the mother of his child. She's also one of the reasons that the love-hate pull he feels towards Daisy earns two oft-used words: it's complicated. As much as Daisy Jones & The Six is a portrait of a band and a snapshot of an era, it's firmly a love triangle, too. Does great art only spring from deep feelings? Does faking it till you make it apply to discovering your artistic groove with someone and selling a bond that'll sell albums? What's the difference between finding a soulmate and seeing your own reflection peering back in another's eyes, struggles and life? They're all queries the series ponders. Fleetwood Mac's tumultuous relationships and breakups are a matter of history, which no one needs to know when sitting down to Daisy Jones & The Six. As Keough twirls onstage, adores shawls and lengthy sleeves, glares pure determination and fire, and self-medicates heavily, though, consider this a condensed fictionalisation. The Buckingham to her Nicks is Claflin, obviously, as duelling lead singer-songwriters Daisy and Billy keep circling around each other from the moment that ace record producer Teddy Price (Tom Wright, True Story) puts them together. She's desperate to make it big and not just be her lyric-stealing ex-boyfriend's, or anyone's, muse, but seeks solace all day with pills and booze. He's sober and trying to get his band another shot after a tussle with drink and drugs derails their first tour, almost ruins his marriage and sees him miss his daughter's birth. No one needs to have seen Almost Famous, either, to know where Daisy Jones & The Six heads. Still, this quickly engrossing series engages in the moment like a catchy refrain. Spinning a familiar but nonetheless involving story of chasing dreams, fame's excesses and troubles, and learning whether someone is a mirror or a kindred spirit, it looks the part in every wardrobe choice — including the disco attire worn by Daisy's pal Simone Jackson (Nabiyah Be, Black Panther), who gets close to her own episode about trying to make it in an industry unwelcoming to Black and queer artists, and the embrace she finds in New York with DJ Bernie (Ayesha Harris, Abbott Elementary) instead. Daisy Jones & The Six's songs are earworms as well, whether the show is giving the suite of 70s-style tunes written by Phoebe Bridgers, Marcus Mumford, Jackson Browne and more a whirl, or dropping a soundtrack of other cuts that, yes, even features Fleetwood Mac. Check out the trailer for Daisy Jones & The Six below: Daisy Jones & The Six streams via Prime Video.
It has been a busy two years for Timothée Chalamet, aka the internet's current boyfriend. Not too long ago, he was best known for a bit part in Interstellar, and now he's one of cinema's biggest talents. Chalamet swooned over first love in the gorgeous Call Me By Your Name, and was nominated for an Oscar for his impeccable performance. He played one of the titular character's first loves in Lady Bird, a film that nabbed Oscar nominations for almost everyone else involved. In his latest movie, Beautiful Boy, he's grappling with addiction — and he'll likely receive plenty of awards love again. This true life drama stands out from Chalamet's recent hits, however, and not in a positive way. His work is exceptional once more, inhabiting rather than performing his troubled character, but the film doesn't do its star justice. Or, to be more accurate, it doesn't do its stars justice. Beautiful Boy is a father-and-son drama as much as it is a deep dive into the trauma wrought by drugs, with Steve Carell as journalist David Sheff and Chalamet as his bright, thoughtful, college-bound son Nic. David can only watch on as Nic escalates from casual marijuana use to an insatiable crystal meth habit, and the respective tolls of bearing witness to, and spiralling through, the depths of addiction are written across Carell and Chalamet's faces. Each actor plays their character like a man possessed, one by trying to understand what drove his boy down this path, the other by an urge that he can't and won't stop indulging. Or perhaps it's that they both seem like they're haunted — by dreams, wants, needs and choices, and by a life that's not what either originally planned. Based on separate memoirs by the actual David and Nic, Beautiful Boy's details are familiar. Viewers first meet David when he's asking an expert exactly what all of these illicit substances are doing to Nic, before the movie jumps back to show the progression to that point and beyond. The Sheff household is happy, with David remarried to painter Karen (Maura Tierney), and Nic getting along with both his stepmother and much-younger half-siblings. But then, suddenly nothing is happy. All that's changed is Nic, and his newfound penchant for getting high rather than burying his head in a book. Soon he's withdrawn and sullen, out late and disappearing for periods of time, and hiding his soulful gaze further and further behind his dark, wavy locks. Every moment that Chalamet and Carell are on screen, either individually or together, it's easy to believe the Sheffs' plight. Beautiful Boy can't answer why Nic dissolves into his addiction, other than the fact he enjoys taking drugs. It can't explain why this thoroughly middle-class family is put through such an ordeal, other than the fact that the unexpected happens. With images that feel both dreamy and gritty simultaneously, what it can do instead is depict the torturous aftermath. The results are authentic and heartfelt, thanks to the film's basis in reality, its brilliant leads, and the stellar support offered by Tierney and Amy Ryan (as David's first wife and Nic's mother). And yet, while the actors make the most intimate, internalised and difficult of emotions ring true, conveying the pain and suffering that clearly changed the Sheffs' lives, the movie itself couldn't be more heavy-handed. Even if it actually happened, having one character read "I just love drugs" in another's diary, or words to that effect, isn't the most subtle of moves. The same applies to Beautiful Boy's use of Nirvana, Neil Young, John Lennon and more on its soundtrack — songs which may stem from the Sheff's real-life music choices, yet are always deployed to obvious effect. While nuance wasn't in director Felix Van Groeningen's wheelhouse when he helmed the heartstring-tugging Broken Circle Breakdown in 2012, he's made a much less effective melodrama this time around. Beautiful Boy is still a moving, affecting picture — with its two main stars putting in some of their best work, how could it not be? — but it never trusts that viewers will respond accordingly. Chalamet and Carell show the audience what the Sheffs went through, however the film itself doesn't just want to tell their story. Rather, it wants to scream it, and to push every sentimental, blunt and cliched button. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vaOhgZez1Nk
Naming the sequel to The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel probably didn’t cause any headaches or sleepless nights. There’s no unsightly numeral at the end, but the film’s follow-up status is still made clear, The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel saying everything a movie title needs to say. It's the same older folks getting up to the same old tricks. The film opens in the United States, the perpetually cranky Muriel Donnelly (Maggie Smith) and always-eager Sonny Kapoor (Dev Patel) trying to convince an American company to fund their expansion plans; however, that’s just window dressing. Soon they return to Jaipur, to their home away from home for more mature travellers, and to the recognisable faces of their long-term residents. Everyone’s problems may be new, be it a job offer, romantic entanglements, health ailments, impressing a hotel inspector, fending off rivals or preparing for impending nuptials, but there’s nothing different about the dynamic. Indeed, anyone who has seen the first movie — or anything any of the high-profile ensemble cast have ever been in — already knows exactly how everyone behaves, and how everything plays out. As will-they-or-won’t-they couple Evelyn and Douglas, Judi Dench is wise and cautious, and Bill Nighy is equal parts charming and sweet, their relationship never in doubt. Lust drives Celia Imrie’s Madge and Ronald Pickup’s Norman into their own silly side-character subplots steeped in matters of the heart. When Richard Gere arrives as the visitor assumed to hold the fate of the new hotel in his hands, he’s as suave and dreamy as he’s ever been on film, and there’s a woman nearby to fall under his spell. These soap-like, sitcom-style antics, and Sonny’s in coping with the competing demands of running a growing business and getting married, ensure much of The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel plays out like a subcontinent-set episode of Fawlty Towers. Sadly, missing is the wit and satire that made the TV series such a comedy gem. Instead, the laughs here come from familiarity and predictability, rather than any real comic impulses by returning director John Madden and second-time scribe Ol Parker. Part of what endeared The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel to audiences — old more so than young — was the late-stage coming-of-age story mixed with an elderly-but-not-out attitude. Both came dripping with sentimentality and packaged as a glossy travelogue, but the movie struck a chord more often than not, and not just because of its immensely pleasant performers. That’s exactly what The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel attempts, but the feel-good strengths of the first film just don’t stretch that far. Instead, cheesiness and cliches fill in the gaps, including the obligatory dance sequences, lest viewers forget there’s an Indian wedding thrown in as well.
When 11.59pm hit on Thursday, June 10, Melbourne's latest lockdown came to an end. You can now leave the house for whatever reason you like, gather outdoors for ten-person outdoor activities and travel up to 25 kilometres away from your house. So, if you're now scrambling to plot out exactly where you can catch up with your mates, that's understandable. And, as it turns out, it can prove a little time-consuming to compare your travel bubble to those of all your friends', then input addresses to cross-reference possible parks. Thankfully, we've now got a nifty way to speed up that whole planning process, thanks to the COVID Overlap Finder website. It's simple but effective, promising pain-free picnic scheduling — or working out where you and your mates can meet up for whatever other reason you like. Simply plug in your home address and that of your mate, and it'll show each of your 25-kilometre radiuses highlighted on the map. And the all-important crossover zone shows all the places that you can meet up for government-approved social-distanced interaction. Do remember, though, that you cannot currently enter regional Victoria under the new restrictions — even if it is in your bubble. Fingers crossed we won't have to rely on it for too long — the Victorian Government has already flagged that more changes are likely to come into effect next week. To work out where you and your mate can exercise together, head to the COVID 25-kilometre overlap finder website. For more information about the current rules, head to the Victorian Department of Health website.
Don't let anyone ever tell you that audiences aren't fond of kick-ass women doing spectacular things. And, if someone ever dares to try, refer them to the two biggest phenomenons in Australia right now: Barbie and the Matildas. In cinemas, the former has been busting records both locally and worldwide. On TV, the national women's soccer team has been making history, too. The latter has also being doing the same on the field, as everyone knows — because we've all been watching the Sam Kerr-led team, helping their 2023 FIFA Women's World Cup matches kill it in the ratings. When Australia played France on Saturday, August 12, Australia's eyeballs followed every move from the first whistle through to the 7–6 penalty shootout in the Matildas' favour. How many eyeballs? Every single one belonging to more than 7.2-million people according to the Seven Network's ratings data. The Matildas' Women's World Cup games are available to watch via the Seven Network and 7plus, and also Optus Sport, so exact figures get a bit tricky — and also OzTAM, which captures broadcast audience numbers, doesn't factor in folks watching in pubs, clubs, sports venues, at AFL grounds before Aussie rules matches and at other out-of-home venues. Plus, at the time of writing, OzTAM hasn't yet covered the game's 30 minutes of extra time or penalty kicks, thanks to the nil-all draw when regulation time was up. Still, Seven has made an educated estimation, starting with the fact that an average of 4.17-million people watched the match either via its free-to-air station or its streaming service. Thanks to the latter, the network also advises that the game was the country's biggest streaming event ever. View this post on Instagram A post shared by CommBank Matildas (@matildas) To put the Matildas' TV feat in context, 2022's AFL and NRL grand finals didn't hit the 4.17-million figure — or come close. Last years' AFL numbers? 3.06-million viewers nationally. Unsurprisingly, as the ABC reports, Australia's quarter-final defeat of France enjoyed the biggest TV audience of the year. The Guardian notes that it was likely the biggest audience since Cathy Freeman's iconic 400-metre race at the 2000 Olympics. All up, Seven advises that its coverage of the Women's World Cup so far has reached 11.9-million broadcast viewers, then another 2.3-million folks via 7plus — all while the bulk of the tournament's games, especially those that don't feature the Matildas, are only on Optus Sports. How many people will watch the Australia v England game at 8pm on Wednesday, August 16? We're a competitive nation — surely we want to not only beat the Lionesses, but smash the France match's ratings as well. The Matildas' 2023 FIFA Women's World Cup games are available to watch via the Seven Network and 7plus, and also Optus Sport — with select other games also on Seven, and the entire tournament streaming via Optus Sport. The FIFA Women's World Cup 2023 runs from Thursday, July 20–Sunday, August 20 across Australia and New Zealand, with tickets available from the FIFA website. Top image: Liondartois via Wikimedia Commons.
Something delightful has been happening in cinemas in some parts of the country. After numerous periods spent empty during the pandemic, with projectors silent, theatres bare and the smell of popcorn fading, picture palaces in many Australian regions are back in business — including both big chains and smaller independent sites in Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane. During COVID-19 lockdowns, no one was short on things to watch, of course. In fact, you probably feel like you've streamed every movie ever made, including new releases, Studio Ghibli's animated fare and Nicolas Cage-starring flicks. But, even if you've spent all your time of late glued to your small screen, we're betting you just can't wait to sit in a darkened room and soak up the splendour of the bigger version. Thankfully, plenty of new films are hitting cinemas so that you can do just that — and we've rounded up, watched and reviewed everything on offer this week. ELVIS Making a biopic about the king of rock 'n' roll, trust Baz Luhrmann to take his subject's words to heart: a little less conversation, a little more action. The Australian filmmaker's Elvis, his first feature since 2013's The Great Gatsby, isn't short on chatter. It's even narrated by Tom Hanks (Finch) as Colonel Tom Parker, the carnival barker who thrust Presley to fame (and, as Luhrmann likes to say, the man who was never a Colonel, never a Tom and never a Parker). But this chronology of an icon's life is at its best when it's showing rather than telling. That's when it sparkles brighter than a rhinestone on all-white attire, and gleams with more shine than all the lights in Las Vegas. That's when Elvis is electrifying, due to its treasure trove of recreated concert scenes — where Austin Butler (Once Upon a Time in Hollywood) slides into Presley's blue suede shoes and lifetime's supply of jumpsuits like he's the man himself. Butler is that hypnotic as Presley. Elvis is his biggest role to-date after starting out on Hannah Montana, sliding through other TV shows including Sex and the City prequel The Carrie Diaries, and also featuring in Yoga Hosers and The Dead Don't Die — and he's exceptional. Thanks to his blistering on-stage performance, shaken hips and all, the movie's gig sequences feel like Elvis hasn't ever left the building. Close your eyes and you'll think you were listening to the real thing. (In some cases, you are: the film's songs span Butler's vocals, Presley's and sometimes a mix of both). And yet it's how the concert footage looks, feels, lives, breathes, and places viewers in those excited and seduced crowds that's Elvis' true gem. It's meant to make movie-goers understand what it was like to be there, and why Presley became such a sensation. Aided by dazzling cinematography, editing and just all-round visual choreography, these parts of the picture — of which there's many, understandably — leave audiences as all shook up as a 1950s teenager or 1970s Vegas visitor. Around such glorious centrepieces, Luhrmann constructs exactly the kind of Elvis extravaganza he was bound to. His film is big. It's bold. It's OTT. It's sprawling at two-and-a-half hours in length. It shimmers and swirls. It boasts flawless costume and production design by Catherine Martin, as his work does. It shows again that Luhrmann typically matches his now-instantly recognisable extroverted flair with his chosen subject (Australia aside). Balancing the writer/director's own style with the legend he's surveying can't have been easy, though, and it doesn't completely play out as slickly as Presley's greased-back pompadour. Elvis is never anything but engrossing, and it's a sight to behold. The one key element that doesn't gel as convincingly: using the scheming Parker as a narrator (unreliable, obviously) and framing device. It helps the movie unpack the smiling-but-cunning manager's outré role in Presley's life, but it's often just forceful, although so was Parker's presence in the star's career. In a script by Luhrmann, Sam Bromell (The Get Down), Craig Pearce (Strictly Ballroom, Romeo + Juliet, Moulin Rouge! and The Great Gatsby) and Jeremy Doner (TV's The Killing), the requisite details are covered. That includes the singer's birth in Tupelo, Mississippi, and extends through to his late-career Vegas residency — with plenty in the middle. His discovery by Parker, the impact upon his parents (Rake co-stars Helen Thomson and Richard Roxburgh), his relationship with Priscilla (Olivia DeJonge, The Staircase), Graceland, America's puritanical reaction to his gyrating pelvis, the issues of race baked into the response to him as an artist: they're all featured. Thematically, those last two points thrum throughout the entire movie. Elvis questions why any hint of sex was such a shock, and why it was so easy for a white man who drew his songs, style and dance moves from Black culture, via his upbringing, to be dubbed a scandal. Read our full review. NUDE TUESDAY In Nude Tuesday, you can take the unhappy couple out of their daily routine — and slip them out of their clothes in the process — but escaping to a mountainside commune, ditching the dacks, palling around with a goat and gleaning relationship advice from the author a book called The Toothy Vulva just can't solve all woes. What that list of absurd plot points and experiences can do is fill out a film that's gleefully silly, often side-splittingly funny, and also just as perceptive as it is playful. The basic premise behind this New Zealand sex comedy borrows from plenty of fellow movies and TV shows about stuck-in-a-rut folks seeking bliss and renewal, plus solutions to bland marriages, with a gorgeous change of scenery. But helping make Nude Tuesday such a winner is every offbeat choice that's used to tell that tale. Getting naked is only part of it, given that not a lick of any recognisable language is spoken throughout the entire feature — although plenty of words and sounds are audibly uttered. Nude Tuesday understands one key point, as everyone watching it will: that relationships are all about communication. The film is also well aware that so much about life is, too — and storytelling. Here, though, expressing emotions, connections and narrative details all boils down to gibberish and bodies. This amusing movie from writer/director Armağan Ballantyne (The Strength of Water) and writer/star Jackie van Beek (The Breaker Upperers) does indeed strip down its performers in its last third, living up to its name, but it saddles them with conveying almost everything about their characters via body language before that. Each piece of dialogue spoken echoes in unintelligible nonsense, using completely made-up and wholly improvised terms. Even covers of 'Road to Nowhere' and 'Islands in the Stream' do as well. And while subtitled in English by British comedian Julia Davis (Camping), that text was penned after shooting, in one of the film's other purposefully farcical twists. The result is patently ridiculous, and marvellously so — and hilariously. It's such a clever touch, making a movie about marital disharmony and the communication breakdown baked within that's so reliant upon reading tone and posture, as couples on the prowl for the tiniest of micro-aggressions frequently hone in on. Initially, the feature needs a few scenes to settle into its unfamiliar vernacular, which takes cues from The Muppets' Swedish Chef in its cadence. Via an opening map, which situates the story on the fictional pacific island of Zǿbftąņ, Nude Tuesday's language also resembles an IKEA catalogue. But once Ballantyne, van Beek and the latter's co-stars find their groove — with a literally bloody attempt to make adult nappies sexy, a supermarket tantrum involving tossed cans and a tense anniversary dinner — everything, including the movie's chosen tongue, clicks into place. Van Beek and Australian The Tourist actor Damon Herriman play Nude Tuesday's central pair, Laura and Bruno. In the first but not last example of just how compellingly they use their physicality, the talented lead twosome paints a picture of relatable malaise from their introductory moments together. Laura and Bruno are bogged down in a dull cycle that revolves around working at jobs neither loves — she spruiks those mature-age diapers, he sells bathroom fixtures — then trudging home exhausted and exasperated to deal with their kids, and later crumbling into bed knowing they're going to repeat it all the next day. Sex doesn't factor in, and neither is content with that, but resolving their troubles themselves is out of reach. Then, they're gifted a getaway to ẄØnÐĘULÄ to assist. But this woodland getaway, run by charismatic and lustful sex guru Bjorg Rassmussen (Jemaine Clement, I Used to Go Here), wants its new guests to expose all in multiple ways. Read our full review. LOST ILLUSIONS Stop us when Lost Illusions no longer sounds familiar. You won't; it won't, either. Stop us when its 19th century-set and -penned narrative no longer feels so relevant to life today that you can easily spot parts of it all around you. Again, that won't happen. When the handsome and involving French drama begins, its protagonist knows what he wants to do with his days, and also who he loves. Quickly, however, he learns that taking a big leap doesn't always pan out if you don't hail from wealth. He makes another jump anyway, out of necessity. He gives a new line of work a try, finds new friends and gets immersed in a different world. Alas, appearances just keep meaning everything in his job, and in society in general. Indeed, rare is the person who doesn't get swept up, who dares to swim against the flow, or who realises they might be sinking rather than floating. The person weathering all of the above is Lucien Chardon (Benjamin Voisin, Summer of 85), who'd prefer to be known as Lucien de Rubempré — his mother's aristocratic maiden name. It's 1821, and he's a poet and printer's assistant in the province of Angoulême when the film begins. He's also having an affair with married socialite Louise de Bargeton (Cécile de France, The French Dispatch), following her to Paris, but their bliss is soon shattered. That's why he gives journalism a try after meeting the equally ambitious Etienne Lousteau (Vincent Lacoste, Irma Vep), then taking up the offer of a tabloid gig after failing to get his poetry published. Lucien climbs up the ranks quickly, both in the scathing newspaper business — where literary criticism is literally cash for comment — and in the right Parisian circles. But even when he doesn't realise it, his new life weighs him down heavily. Lost Illusions spins a giddy tale, but not a happy one. It can't do the latter; exactly why is right there in the title. As a film, it unfurls as a ravishing and intoxicating drama that's deeply funny, moving and astute — one that's clearly the product of very particular set of skills. No, Liam Neeson's recent on-screen resume doesn't factor into it, not for a second. Instead, it takes an immensely special talent to spin a story like this, where every moment is so perceptive and each piece of minutiae echoes so resoundingly. The prowess behind this seven-time César Award-winner belongs to three people: acclaimed novelist Honoré de Balzac, who wrote the three-part Illusions perdues almost 200 years ago; filmmaker Xavier Giannoli (Marguerite), who so entrancingly adapts and directs; and Jacques Fieschi (Lovers), who co-scripts with the latter. There's more to Lucien's story — pages upon pages more, where his tale began; 149 minutes in total, as his ups and downs now play out on the screen. When Louise decides that he doesn't fit in, with help from the scheming Marquise d'Espard (Jeanne Balibar, Memoria), spite rains his way. When Etienne introduces him to the realities of the media at the era, and with relish, he's brought into a dizzying whirlwind of corruption, arrogance, fame, power, money and influence. When Lucien starts buying into everything he's sold about the whys and hows of his new profession, and the spoils that come with it, Lost Illusions couldn't be more of a cautionary tale. Everything has a price: the glowing words he gleefully types, the nasty takedowns of other people's rivals and the entire act of spending his days doing such bidding for the highest fee. Read our full review. MINIONS: THE RISE OF GRU What's yellow, round, inescapably silly and also just flat-out inescapable? Since 2010, when the first Despicable Me film reached screens, Minions have been the answer. The golden-hued, nonsense-babbling critters were designed as the ultimate sidekicks. They've remained henchman to malevolent figures in all five of their movie outings so far, and in the 15 shorts that've also kept telling their tale. But, as much as super-villain Gru (Steve Carrell, Space Force) would disagree — he'd be immensely insulted at the idea, in fact — Minions have long been the true drawcards. Children haven't been spotted carrying around and obsessing over Gru toys in the same number. The saga's key evil-doer doesn't have people spouting the same gibberish, either. And his likeness hasn't become as ubiquitous as Santa, although Minions aren't considered a gift by everyone. At their best, these lemon-coloured creatures are today's equivalent of slapstick silent film stars. At their worst, they're calculatingly cute vehicles for selling merchandise and movie tickets. In Minions: The Rise of Gru, Kevin, Stuart, Bob, Otto and company (all voiced by Pierre Coffin, also the director of the three Despicable Me features so far, as well as the first Minions) fall somewhere in the middle. Their Minion mayhem is the most entertaining and well-developed part of the flick, but it's also pushed to the side. There's a reason that this isn't just called Minions 2 — and another that it hasn't been badged Despicable Me: The Rise of Gru. The Minion name gets wallets opening and young audiences excited, the Rise of Gru reflects the main focus of the story, and anyone who's older than ten can see the strings being pulled at the corporate level. Gru's offsiders are present and cause plenty of chaos, but whether he gets to live out his nefarious boyhood dreams is director Kyle Balda (Despicable Me 3), co-helmers Brad Ableson (Legends of Chamberlain Heights) and Jonathan del Val (The Secret Life of Pets 2), and screenwriter Matthew Fogel's (The Lego Movie 2) chief concern. His ultimate wish: to become one of the Vicious 6, the big supervillain team of 1976, when Gru is 11. That sinister crew happens to have an opening after some infighting and double-crossing among Belle Bottom (Taraji P Henson, Empire), Jean Clawed (Jean-Claude Van Damme, Haters), Nun-Chuck (Lucy Lawless, My Life Is Murder), Svengeance (Dolph Lundgren, Aquaman), Stronghold (Danny Trejo, The Legend of La Llarona) and Wild Knuckles (Alan Arkin, The Kominsky Method). Accordingly, when Gru receives an invite to audition, he's as thrilled as a criminal mastermind-in-training can be. The Minions are hired as Gru's assistants and, after his tryout for the big leagues ends in him stealing the Vicious 6's prized possession, quickly spark the usual Minion antics. Of course they lose the pivotal object. Of course the Vicious 6 come looking for it. Of course the Minions do everything from learning kung fu (from Master Chow, voiced by Everything Everywhere All At Once's Michelle Yeoh) to virtually destroying San Francisco. There's more calculation than inspiration behind their havoc, however; rather than Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton-esque heights, their slapstick hijinks feel as structured and obvious as the film's nods to a wealth of genres (martial arts, spy, road trip, blaxploitation and more) and its hefty list of blatant era-appropriate needle drops ('Funkytown', 'Fly Like an Eagle', 'Born to Be Alive' and the like). It also plays like colour and movement around Gru, rather than the central attraction viewers want it to be. Also, something can't be surreal if it's so thoroughly expected, as the bulk of Minions: The Rise of Gru is. It isn't clever enough to be gloriously ridiculous, either. If you're wondering what else is currently screening in Australian cinemas — or has been lately — check out our rundown of new films released in Australia on March 3, March 10, March 17, March 24 and March 31; April 7, April 14, April 21 and April 28; and May 5, May 12, May 19 and May 26; and June 2, June 9 and June 16. You can also read our full reviews of a heap of recent movies, such as The Batman, Blind Ambition, Bergman Island, Wash My Soul in the River's Flow, The Souvenir: Part II, Dog, Anonymous Club, X, River, Nowhere Special, RRR, Morbius, The Duke, Sonic the Hedgehog 2, Fantastic Beasts and the Secrets of Dumbledore, Ambulance, Memoria, The Lost City, Everything Everywhere All At Once, Happening, The Good Boss, The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, The Northman, Ithaka, After Yang, Downton Abbey: A New Era, Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy, Petite Maman, The Drover's Wife The Legend of Molly Johnson, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, Firestarter, Operation Mincemeat, To Chiara, This Much I Know to Be True, The Innocents, Top Gun: Maverick, The Bob's Burgers Movie, Ablaze, Hatching, Mothering Sunday, Jurassic World Dominion, A Hero, Benediction, Lightyear and Men.
UPDATE, October 29, 2020: Melbourne's outdoor cinemas are now reopening — including the Coburg Drive-In, and the Lido, Classic and Cameo outdoor cinemas. Long before its new sequel declared so in its title, The Craft already had a legacy. A horror-thriller about teen witches using and abusing magic to cope with high school's troubles, the 1996 Neve Campbell-starring cult favourite is the quintessential movie of that exact description. It's supremely 90s. It has the cast, look, soundtrack and mood to match. In using the occult to explore adolescent angst, it splashes everything from stormy skies and candle-lit rooms to hordes of rats and snakes across the screen, filling its frames with trusty genre imagery. And, it leans into the torment and toil of being a young woman finding one's way in the world, and of dealing with sleazy schoolboys, racist prom queens, society's obsession with appearance and the tyranny of class differences, too. The overall film has its struggles, but it has always stood out — and retained its place in pop culture. Written and directed by actor-turned-filmmaker Zoe Lister-Jones (Band Aid), The Craft: Legacy is clearly the product of someone who already knows all of the above. It's also the work of someone keen to pay tribute to the original, embrace what she sees as its strengths, redress its wrongs, and update it for a new time and a new generation. But it's possible for a 24-years-later follow-up to show affection, make some smart changes, move with the times and still feel like the remnants left in a cauldron. Or, for it to recall one of its predecessor's famed moments — one it recreates, briefly — in an unintended fashion. When this feature's coven play with levitation, the words "light as a feather, stiff as a board" aren't heard; however, by the end of the movie, they best describe everything that's just happened. Starting as its inspiration did, The Craft: Legacy begins with the arrival of a teen in a new town. Lily (Cailee Spaeny, Devs) and her mother Helen (Michelle Monaghan, Saint Judy) move in with the latter's boyfriend and his three sons — and if the in-car sing-along to Alanis Morrisette's 'Hand in My Pocket' doesn't nod firmly enough in the 90s' direction, the casting of The X-Files' David Duchovny as Adam, the author of a self-help book called 'The Hallowed Masculine' and the object of the head-over-heels Helen's affection, does. Navigating a new school, Lily soon finds herself taunted by resident jock and bully Timmy (Nicholas Galitzine, Share) in an unpleasant classroom incident. But she's also found by Lourdes (Zoey Luna, Pose), Frankie (Gideon Adlon, Blockers) and Tabby (Lovie Simone, Selah and the Spades), who are looking for the west to their north, south and east. They become fast friends, trifling with spells and testing their abilities. They also sneak into Timmy's room and enchant him into becoming the best version of himself. While Timmy provides an early source of nastiness, it's hardly a spoiler to note that he isn't The Craft: Legacy's antagonist. Instead, he's transformed from a jerk that makes fun of menstruation to a sensitive soul who waxes lyrical about Princess Nokia's politics. Any movie that does that was never going to let its darkness spring from its central quartet, either. Lily and her new friends must learn to use magic responsibly, but their mistakes are lessons rather than cautionary tales. The Craft: Legacy also gets its witches to turn a homophobic classmate's coat into a rainbow-hued statement piece, and burn slut-shaming slurs off of lockers. It has Lourdes stand up for trans women like herself, correcting Frankie when she says that giving birth is one of the fairer sex's strengths. It verbally and visibly champions inclusivity at every turn, so it finds its enemy in a glaring source — that'd be toxic masculinity — and the creepy character who personifies it. Often, when a sequel, remake or reboot gestures forcefully at the movie it's based on, it can prove convenient, blatant and overt all at once. Alas, that's how the bulk of The Craft: Legacy plays. In fact, in mimicking setups, scenes or specific lines, Lister-Jones is generally canny and even economical about references to her film's predecessor — so they're frequently the only parts that don't feel bland and routine. If only the same amount of effort had gone into fleshing out the main characters, who are nearly interchangeable, even with their racial and gender diversity. If only the same care had be expended in giving them personalities (loudness is one of the gang's defining traits), backstories and any weirdness, actually. If only the same thoughtfulness had been afforded its villain and all that he stands for, too. Rather than seeing young women become consumed by their blossoming power, and also punishing those who refuse to conform, it's a welcome shift that The Craft: Legacy calls out the patriarchal norms and attitudes that put teenage girls in that situation. And yet the film just seems happy enough to have made that switch, instead of giving it any true weight or substantial depth. The Craft: Legacy is light thematically, and also in plethora of other ways. Visually and tonally, it views witchcraft as fun and colourful. Emotionally, there are few stakes and horrors, so almost everything feels unimportant and anticlimactic. As a result, there's also a stiffness to the film — as though it's trying so hard to be loose, open, breezy and upbeat that it actually proves strained and wooden instead. A likeable cast of women can't change that. Neither can a late plot inclusion that's predictable, but possesses more intrigue than the rest of the movie. It's fitting that The Craft: Legacy's witches treat their abilities like superpowers, because the film recalls oh-so-many caped crusader flicks in one inescapable regard: by focusing its energies on laying the groundwork for a sequel that isn't guaranteed, and failing to conjure up much more than the bare minimum in the process. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxZ774gziwU
When SXSW Sydney first started revealing details of its 2025 lineup, it promised more free programming on this year's bill. If you're keen to head along to the event's third year — after making its Harbour City debut in 2023, then returning in 2024 — without spending a cent, you'll want to make a date with Tumbalong Park, then. Again, the spot is playing host to the fest's budget-friendly activities, including everything from live music to movies, as well as DJ sets, talks, fashion showcases, pop-ups and more. Free sessions have always been a component of SXSW Sydney, but adding more was never not going to be a welcome move. Accordingly, after outlining that there'd be a significant expansion of its free programming, the festival has upped its Tumbalong Park lineup to 85-plus hours of events. At SXSW Sydney Unlocked, as the hub has been dubbed, there'll be more than 200 options to engage in the fest between Monday, October 13–Sunday, October 19. This part of the lineup runs every day, but will feature extended hours from Thursday–Sunday. Weekday lunch breaks are a particular focus, spanning programming from 12–1.30pm Monday–Friday, as are happy-hour sessions from 4.30pm Tuesday–Friday. So, SXSW Sydney clearly wants the city to join in whenever suits everyone's daily schedules — and via everything from guest appearances to surprise hosts, too. Highlights include the return of FOMA: Fabrics of Modern Australia on the runway; gigs by Indonesian hip hop stars Tenxi, Filipino folk-pop singer Angela Ken, J-Pop boy band Psychic Fever and Chinese Tencent singer Tia Ray; and Blak to the Future: A Celebration of First Nations Creatives' celebration of Indigenous filmmaking. Or, hit up twilight gigs in the Seymour Centre courtyard, get line-dancing lessons and see a range of country talent — Max Jackson, The Washboard Union, Lewis Love and Big Wheels — at Tumbalong Honky Tonk, and explore the Australian Space Agency's space-themed hub. There's also Small Fry Rock for families, with Grinspoon's Phil Jamieson and Little Birdy's Katy Steele taking to the stage. The Rubens are set to celebrate ten years of 'Hoops', while K-pop is also getting a moment. On the Saturday, if you fancy attending the Games Showcase and Innovation Expo without bothering your wallet, that's also on the agenda. Images: Jess Gleeson, Paul McMillan and Ben Gibson.
If seasonal change has left you in a dizzy headspin of new colours and fabrics and prints and jackets — or if, y'know, you just like some fancy new clothes now and then — you'll be pretty pleased to know that the Big Fashion Sale is coming back to Melbourne for four days this March. The name pretty much says it all. This thing is big. You'll find thousands of lush items from past collections, samples and one-offs from over 50 cult Australian and international designers, both well-known and emerging, including Kenzo, Marni, Phillip Lim, Karla Špetić, Adidas, Kowtow, Macgraw, Thursday Sunday and more. With discounts of up to 80 percent off, this is one way to up your count of designer while leaving your bank balance sitting pretty too. Prices this low tend to inspire a certain level of ruthlessness in all of us, though, so practise that grabbing reflex in advance. This is every person for themselves. The Big Fashion Sale will be open 9am–7pm Thursday, 9am–8pm Friday, 9am–6pm Saturday, and 10am–4pm Sunday.
Some film festivals take audiences to corners of the globe they won't visit in the multiplex, shine a spotlight on different cinematic voices, and showcase the wealth of talent working beyond the English-speaking realm. That's not the British Film Festival's remit. Here, you'll find recognisable names and faces aplenty as the best new movies Old Blighty has to offer embark on a tour of the antipodes. Taking place between late October and early November, this year's lineup includes Andrew Garfield and Claire Foy in opening night film Breathe, which marks the directorial debut of The Lord of the Rings star Andy Serkis, as well as Nicole Kidman and Elle Fanning in the eagerly anticipated How to Talk to Girls at Parties. The former tells a true tale of a couple striving to overcome a death sentence from polio, while the latter is a queer sci-fi rock-punk comedy based on a Neil Gaiman short story and directed by Hedwig and the Angry Inch's John Cameron Mitchell. Yep, this program might speak the same language as Australians, but it's serving up a variety of stories. If you're going to put one flick to put on your must-see list, make it The Death of Stalin. It's the latest from The Thick of It and Veep creator Armando Iannucci, and features everyone from Steve Buscemi to Jeffrey Tambor to Michael Palin. Other highlights include Fanning again in Mary Shelley, a biopic about the writer behind Frankenstein that's helmed by Wadjda director Haifaa Al-Mansour, as well as England is Mine, with Dunkirk's Jack Lowden playing none other than Morrissey. Elsewhere, Saoirse Ronan stars in On Chesil Beach, her latest Ian McEwan adaptation after coming to fame in Atonement, while true story 6 Days recreates the 1980 storming of the Iranian embassy in London with Mark Strong, Jamie Bell and Abbie Cornish. BFF also boasts docos about Manolo Blahnik and Eric Clapton, a biopic about AA Milne and the genesis of Winnie the Pooh, and one of the last films to feature the late John Hurt in That Good Night. Looking back as well as forward, a selection of Agatha Christie adaptations round out the lineup. Timed to coincide with the new version of Murder on the Orient Express, the program includes the 1974 take on the same tale, plus three other classics. The 2017 British Film Festival will screen at Sydney's Palace Norton Street and Palace Verona from October 24 to November 15, Melbourne's Palace Cinema Como, Palace Balwyn, Palace Brighton Bay and The Astor Theatre from October 26 to November 15, and Brisbane's Palace Barracks and Palace Centro from October 25 to November 15. For more information and to buy tickets, visit the festival website.
A literal underdog tale about scrappy canines, a plucky orphan and a pooch-hating politician with an evil scheme, Isle of Dogs isn't just Wes Anderson's latest movie. Filled with heart, humour and witty dialogue, this doggone delight is the most Wes Anderson-esque movie the acclaimed filmmaker has ever made. Anyone who's seen any of his previous flicks knows exactly what that means, with the writer-director's work almost comprising its own genre. Think quirky quests about spirited characters following their own paths, set in worlds that cleverly expose humanity's desires and fears. Then there are his signature visuals, complete with symmetrical compositions that look like they belong in a gallery, and distinctive colour palettes anyone would love to plaster all over their own walls. Constructed with the tail-wagging enthusiasm of man's best friend, all of these familiar components fall into place in the stop-motion animated wonder that is Isle of Dogs. And that's before Anderson trots out his other trademark: an A-list cast. For this walk around the block, he's joined by regular collaborators Bill Murray, Jeff Goldblum, Tilda Swinton, Bob Balaban, Harvey Keitel, Frances McDormand and Edward Norton, plus Anderson newcomers Bryan Cranston, Greta Gerwig, Scarlett Johansson, Liev Schreiber, Yoko Ono and Ken Watanabe. Throw in a story written with The Darjeeling Limited co-scribes Roman Coppola and Jason Schwartzman as well as The Grand Budapest Hotel actor Kunichi Nomura, and the end product couldn't feel more like an Anderson movie if it tried. Set 20 years into the future, Isle of Dogs begins in the fictional Megasaki, as the Japanese city faces a difficult doggy dilemma. Its howling furballs are infected with dog flu and snout fever, sparking fears that the virus could soon spread to humans. Hailing from a long line of cat fanciers and hardly keen on pooches, Mayor Kobayashi (Nomura) decides to banish all canines to Trash Island. To demonstrate his commitment to the cause, he even exiles his own family pet: a short-haired oceanic speckle-eared sport hound by the name of Spots (voiced by Schreiber). That's the setup. But Anderson's film really starts barking once the action moves to its offshore garbage pile — the actual isle of dogs. There, abandoned pooches fight for food, form packs and try to survive, as the mayor's orphaned 12-year-old nephew Atari (Koyu Rankin) discovers on his mission to find Spots. He's assisted in his task by Rex (Norton) and a ragtag gang of misfit mutts, including ex-baseball mascot Boss (Murray), one-time dog food spokesdog King (Balaban) and admitted gossip Duke (Goldblum). Gruff outsider Chief (Cranston) isn't thrilled about helping the boy they dub 'the little pilot', but he knows a lost puppy when he sees one. With a former show dog (Johansson), an oracle pug (Swinton), robo-hounds, and a crusading American exchange student (Gerwig) also playing their parts, Isle of Dogs isn't short on antics. Anderson fills his narrative to the brim like an overflowing bowl of dog treats, spoiling viewers like he'd spoil his own animal companion. It's an approach that matches his lovingly detailed images, which surpass even Fantastic Mr Fox's animated splendour. Aesthetically, every second of the movie delivers something gorgeous and glorious — be it the lifelike puppetry of its central canines, a particularly meticulous sushi scene, or fond odes to Japanese filmmaking icons Akira Kurosawa and Yasujirō Ozu. Indeed, even if Isle of Dogs hadn't paired its eye-catching contents with smart, timely parallels — a power-hungry leader, discarded population and trash-filled land mass make it impossible to miss the film's political, social and environmental commentary — it'd still make an ace addition to Anderson's oeuvre. That said, there's one area where the director shows his own limits. While Anderson is a seasoned master at combining exquisite visuals, lively voice work, an engaging story and a memorable message, a couple of his choices give pause (not paws) for thought. Isle of Dogs oozes affection for its location in every intricate element and never uses Japanese culture as decoration – but translating canine chatter into English while offering Japanese dialogue without subtitles threatens to marginalise the country the film is paying tribute to. Similarly problematic is Gerwig's character, who swoops in to help Megasaki's residents battle the mayor's nefarious plan, and sticks a little too closely to the white saviour trope in the process. Thankfully, she's never the main attraction, in what proves an otherwise charming tale about a determined boy, his undying love for his beloved pet, and a whole island of adorable dogs. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dlakrjfzCig
The Lion King is coming back to the big screen and the latest Toy Story film is about to hit cinemas — 2019 is proving a great year for revisiting beloved animated classics all round. Come September, The Little Mermaid will join them in its gorgeous original form, and with a rousing live rendition of its Oscar-winning music played by the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra. This isn't just a case of being better down where it's wetter, as cute crab Sebastian famously tells Ariel in the track 'Under the Sea' (which you'll now have stuck in your head, of course). It's also a case of being more glorious when Alan Menken's score is roaring, with conductor Nicholas Buc leading the charge. Expect to hear other hits like 'Part of Your World' and 'Kiss the Girl' echoing through Hamer Hall, all while you get nostalgic watching everyone's favourite mermaid princess fall in love with a human prince and wonder what it's like to live on land. Even better — screening three times, at 7.30pm on Friday, September 6 and at 1pm and 7.30pm on Saturday, September 7 — the event marks the movie's 30th anniversary. Tickets are on sale now and can be purchased here.
There's still a good few months before the Australian Centre for the Moving Image (ACMI) wraps up construction and unveils its multimillion-dollar makeover. But we've already been given a sneak peek of the new-look centre, thanks to a virtual fly-through video. We've also been told one of its star attractions will be a permanent ode to Mad Max. Once the revamp is completed in mid-2020, ACMI will boast a roomier, light-filled interior, with schmancy technology used to create a "globally connected museum of the future". Its design comes courtesy of Melbourne firm BKK Architects, while construction company Built is heading up the build. ACMI's also set to score a new edition of its ever-popular, permanent moving image exhibition, the result of a collaboration with experiential design studio Second Story. The free exhibition will dive deep into the history of the moving image with the help of cutting-edge technology and a range of immersive experiences. And one of the standout installations is a car that's half Mad Max Interceptor, half Bush Mechanics creation. One side nods to the contribution Mad Max director George Miller has made to Aussie film, featuring a futuristic machine crafted by Fury Road car designer Cameron Manewell. The other was created by Melbourne production house Rebel Films and painted in the Northern Territory by Yuendumu artists Thomas Jangala Rice and Francis Jupurrula Kelly, paying homage to the 2001 reality TV series. [caption id="attachment_751351" align="alignnone" width="1920"] The Constellation[/caption] A world-first piece of technology dubbed The Lens will also make its debut here. It's a portable device that's used to collect information while moving through the exhibition, as well as offering access to a large-scale digital activation titled The Constellation. Elsewhere, you'll find spaces like the Media Preservation Lab, which gives a glimpse into ACMI's film and digital media preservation process; the Foley Room, where visitors can have a crack at creating their own soundtrack and sound effects; and the Gandel Digital Future Labs, offering a series of hands-on digital learning experiences. While ACMI is undergoing renovations, its shows, films and exhibitions have taken up residence at the Treasury Theatre and the recently reopened Capitol Theatre. To check out its programming at the Treasure and Capitol theatres, head to the ACMI website. ACMI is set to reopen in mid-2020.
An artist turned filmmaker, Julian Schnabel largely specialises in films about visionary artists, however he can't be accused of settling into a comfortable niche. Whether he's focusing on American painter Jean-Michel Basquiat in Basquiat, exploring the life of Cuban poet and playwright Reinaldo Arenas in Before Night Falls, or examining the experiences of French writer Jean-Dominique Bauby in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, Schnabel does more than present straightforward biographical dramas. Rather, his pictures are dedicated to channelling their subject's mindsets with every stylistic touch — to steeping viewers in each real-life figure's perspective as deeply and immersively as possible. There's no formula at play, just an unflinching dedication to capturing each artist's essence. And with the writer-director turning his attention to Vincent van Gogh, At Eternity's Gate hits the mark perfectly. To many, van Gogh's name inspires three well-known details: his Sunflowers still-life paintings, the moody blue swirls of The Starry Night and the liberation of his ear from his head by his own hand. All three rate a mention in At Eternity's Gate, though they're hardly the most crucial aspects of the film. With Willem Dafoe plays the artist with urgent, revelatory intensity (and earning a much-deserved Academy Award nomination for his troubles), Schnabel seeks to understand rather than faithfully chronicle. As written with Jean-Claude Carrière and co-editor Louise Kugelberg, his movie happily draws upon not only van Gogh's personal letters, but on fiction, myths and speculation, including about the artist's death. A suitably post-impressionist portrait of the iconic Dutch post-impressionist, At Eternity's Gate recounts van Gogh's final years — a period of challenge, pain and immense productivity. Feeling adrift in the Parisian art scene, where galleries remain uninterested and his art-dealer brother Theo (Rupert Friend) can't sell his work, van Gogh decamps to the French town of Arles upon the advice of fellow artist Paul Gauguin (Oscar Isaac). But if van Gogh hovered on the fringes of his chosen community in the city, he's an outright pariah in his new small-town setting, with his drinking, temper-driven outbursts and psychological unravelling grating against the locals. While Theo arranges for Gaugin to join his sibling's sojourn, the solace of good company proves merely a temporary fix to van Gogh's inner woes. It would've been a revolutionary move, but Schnabel could've trained the camera solely at Dafoe for At Eternity's Gate's entire running time, and he still would've crafted an exceptional film. There's such power to the actor's performance — the power that springs not from force, or from seeing every ounce of effort, but from so convincingly stepping into someone else's shoes. van Gogh's work has always seethed with both passion and fragility. In every stroke, even in his most striking compositions, it seems as if he's feverishly exorcising the visions that are haunting his mind. In the movie's finest accomplishment, its commanding leading man gives flesh, heart and soul to that sensation. Although Isaac is memorable as Gauguin, and both Mathieu Amalric and Mads Mikkelsen make an impression as a doctor and a priest, respectively, Dafoe conveys both the emotional delicacy and the damning turmoil that made van Gogh who he was — and made his art so astonishing. Of course, Schnabel doesn't just train the camera at his star, and his film is all the better for it. How the filmmaker composes At Eternity's Gate's frames is as important as what's within them, with cinematographer Benoît Delhomme wielding the lens almost as if it's a paintbrush. There's rarely a still moment, with the image swirling, roaming and playing with focus in the same way that van Gogh's artwork does. The movie also borrows the artist's use of colour, particularly when gazing upon the French landscapes that he frequently committed to canvas. And yet, Schnabel never forgets that film is an audio-visual medium. His potent visuals say plenty about his complicated subject, but so does his layered soundscape. Staring into Dafoe's penetrating blue eyes, peering at every fleck of dirt and grass that marked van Gogh's life, and marvelling at the painter's pieces only feels complete when the artist's words float like the wind — and when the wind itself conjures up his deep-seated struggle. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bcPLAz1LG1U
Well and truly over tired, dry CBD sandwiches for lunch? The business folk of Melbourne are getting a host of new lunch options, with the imminent arrival of a newly minted food precinct at the west end of Flinders Lane. Nestled on the corner of Flinders and Katherine Place, just a couple of minutes walk from Southern Cross, The Archway is the latest addition to the city's bustling laneway culture. With three tasty operators already up and cooking, and another three expected to open by the end of next month, The Archway is set to dominate CBD lunch breaks for the foreseeable future. Located in Melbourne's so-called New York end, it's only fitting that The Archway includes a selection of NYC style bagels, baked fresh daily by the team at 5 & Dime. Variations include poppy, rye, cinnamon and raisin, along with spreads like maple bacon chipotle, lemon curd and hazelnut chocolate cream cheese. Just in case that wasn't decadent enough, they’re also running a rotating sweets menu, from homemade smores (!) to snickers chocolate tarts. That said, when it comes to tarts, your best option is T by Luxbite. The latest venture by pastry chefs Yen Yee and Bernard Chu, the dessert options here are almost beyond belief. Slices include jackfruit, chilli salt, vanilla and kaffir lime sherbet; salted caramel, marshmallow, chocolate, orange and gold, and the particularly delicious-sounding lemon peel, meringue, vanilla and bamboo charcoal. Seriously, just go and look at their website. It's insane. If you're search for a caffeine hit to go along with your tooth decay, you can head to Altius Coffee Brewers. Run by Hannah Alderton and Jarrod Pageot, formerly of Market Lane, it's one of the few good coffee options west of William Street. In addition to the vendors already in operation, The Archway will soon be welcoming a pair of Asian lunch joints. Delhi Streets promises old school Indian street food, while Mr Huang Jin specialises in Taiwanese dumplings. Rounding out the precinct with a healthier option will be Hunters Roots, an organic cafe serving salads and freshly squeezed juices. The Archway is located at 517 Flinders Lane. For more information visit The Archway's website.
A certain global pandemic might have limited Melbourne's creativity fix last year, but come May, the city more than make up for that artistic dry spell. Launching with the total lunar eclipse on Wednesday, May 26, the city is set to welcome Rising, a brand new festival of arts and culture and an ambitious celebration of place. Running for 12 nights and descending on venues and public spaces all across the city, it's set to deliver a huge 133 different projects and events involving more than 750 Victorian artists. Expect a large-scale celebration of music, art and performance, in what organisers are pushing to become the major cultural event for the entire Asia-Pacific region. After being forced to postpone its planned 2020 debut, Rising is now more than two years in the making. Its expansive program has been very much steered by the artists involved, with an impressive 36 specially commissioned works set to make their world premiere during the event. "We went to the artists of Victoria and asked them for bold and ambitious ideas of what a festival can now be," Co-Artistic Director Hannah Fox explained to Concrete Playground. "So that's really informed how we've programmed it. It's as much the vision of the artists of Victoria and Melbourne as it is ours. And they really were well ahead of us in understanding how to make work for a post-COVID world." Taking place across five distinct districts within the city, Rising will serve up a broad-ranging mix of music, large-scale public art, grand installations and site-specific performances, intertwined with a healthy sprinkling of food and wine. As Fox says, it's "very much about creating an experience in Melbourne that's completely unique to this place." [caption id="attachment_805136" align="aligncenter" width="1920"] Patricia Piccinini by Pete Tarasiuk[/caption] And there truly is something in this lineup for everyone to sink their teeth into. Excitingly, renowned Aussie artist Patricia Piccinini returns with her first major Melbourne project in almost two decades, with A Miracle Constantly Repeated unveiling a multi-sensory art experience housed within the rarely spied spaces on the top floor of Flinders Street Station. The festival's Chinatown precinct will play host to everything from a naked disco called Club Purple to technology-driven laneway art takeovers and soaring visual projections. At its heart, the Golden Square car park building will be transformed into a multi-faceted pop-up gallery, showcasing new works from the likes of Reko Rennie, Parallel Park, Lucy Bleach and more. Over at the Sidney Myer Music Bowl, it'll become a supernatural forest for The Wilds, complete with light shows, supersized sculptures, mirrored illusions and a pop-up ice-skating rink. The Capitol Theatre will play host to a performance lecture by Emmy-winning filmmaker Lynette Wallworth — and, at the Comedy Theatre, you'll catch a series of collaborations and special performances to tempt music fans of all persuasions, featuring New Zealand's Marlon Williams, Julia Jacklin, The Saints founder Ed Kuepper and loads more. Also embedded firmly throughout the Rising program is a focus on the city's connection to First Peoples' culture. "One thing that we wanted to be really clear on and committed to was about our place, and really thinking about Melbourne's history in terms of deepening the understanding of First Nations stories and living culture," Fox says. Accordingly, there'll be no shortage of opportunities to dig in deep, including works like storytelling sound pavilion Blak Box and The Lantern Company's community-made Wandering Stars — a 200-metre-long glowing eel undulating its way along the Yarra, to be enjoyed by audiences on the riverbank as they share First Peoples' knowledge of the space. Or, there's Tjanabi, one of the diverse food and wine experiences happening within the Melbourne Town Hall's Mess Hall pop-up precinct. Led by N'arweet Dr Carolyn Briggs AM, the event will see diners connecting with First Peoples' food culture as they feast their way through a multi-course dinner built around long-held techniques and much-honoured ingredients. "It's about the community coming back together again in a really major way, taking advantage of the freedom that we have and bringing the city back to life after being the hardest hit city in Australia," explains Fox. "It's a very significant kind of moment... and we feel very fortunate to be launching this now. I think audiences are absolutely ready." Rising runs from Wednesday, May 26–Sunday, June 6 at various locations around Melbourne. Head to the festival's website to check out the full program and grab tickets. Images: Wandering Stars; Blak Box, 2019, photographed by Teresa Tan.
Can a dream ever exist for more than a fleeting moment? That isn't just a question for oneirology, the field of psychology focused on studying the involuntary visions of our slumbers, but also applies whenever tales of motorcycle clubs rev across the screen. Stories of hitting the open road on two wheels, finding camaraderie and community in a group of likeminded outsiders, and perhaps discovering a purpose along the way are stories of chasing dreams — of freedom, of belonging, of mattering, of meaning in a world seemingly so devoid of it if you don't fit in the traditional sense. So it was in TV series Sons of Anarchy and in Australian film 1%, two titles set within the roar and rush of biker gangs in recent years. So it was in The Wild One, 1953's Marlon Brando-starring classic that immortalised the query "what are you rebelling against?" and the reply "whaddaya got?". Now, so it equally proves in The Bikeriders, about a 60s and 70s leather- and denim-wearing, motorbike-riding crew formed after infatuation got motors runnin' when founder Johnny (Tom Hardy, Venom: Let There Be Carnage) saw The Wild One on TV. A family man, Johnny has a dream for the Vandals MC out of America's midwest — and so does Benny (Austin Butler, Dune: Part Two), the closest thing that the club has to a spirit animal. The latter is introduced alone at a bar wearing his colours, refusing to take them off even when violence springs at the hands of unwelcoming patrons. He won't be tamed, the sixth feature from writer/director Jeff Nichols after Shotgun Stories, Take Shelter, Mud, Midnight Special and Loving establishes early. He won't be anyone but his smouldering, swaggering, rebel-without-a-cause self, either. Courtesy of the Vandals, he not only has the space to stand firm, but the assurance. He's a lone wolf-type, but knows that he has the devoted backing of the pack anyway. Johnny has fashioned the gang as a tribe and a place to call home for those who can't locate it elsewhere, and is open about how his fellow bikers need Benny — and how he does as well — to look up to. The Bikeriders is the story of Johnny and Benny, and also of the Illinois-accented Kathy (Jodie Comer, Killing Eve), whose outsider-upon-outsider perspective comprises the movie's narration (and gives it a Martin Scorsese-esque, Goodfellas-style angle). She's wary when on her debut encounter with the Vandals, also at a bar. Still, the way that Nichols and his regular cinematographer Adam Stone (Waco: American Apocalypse) shoot it, Kathy has no choice but to fall for the brooding Benny from the instant that she locks eyes on him at the pool table that night. Moments after she leaves the watering hole, she's clutching him close as they thunder off on his bike. Five weeks later, they're married. As she talks through the tumultuous and absorbing details to Danny (Mike Faist, Challengers) — Lyon, that is, the IRL photojournalist with the 1968 book that shares The Bikeriders' name, inspired the film and provides its basis sometimes on an image-by-image level — what springs from there is a love triangle of sorts, as Johnny and Kathy both see different routes for Benny, and for their respective dreams and futures. Making a much-appreciated return to filmmaking eight years after Loving — in-between, an Alien Nation remake didn't come to fruition, and he dropped out of helming A Quiet Place: Day One — Nichols fictionalises fact with The Bikeriders. Lyon snapped and spent time with Chicago's Outlaws Motorcycle Club. Its name doesn't remain in the feature, but the monikers of plenty of folks in its orbit, including Kathy, Benny and Johnny, plus other Vandals members Cal (Boyd Holbrook, Justified: City Primeval), Cockroach (Emory Cohen, Blue Bayou) and Zipco (Michael Shannon, The Flash), all do. The vibe as The Bikeriders hums is of a picture and the team bringing it to life each stepping into history, into photos that immortalised it and into a mood just as firmly, then spinning the results into a movie. That's a pivotal and purposeful sensation when the line between dreams and reality is being examined. While actuality rarely feels illusory when you're in it, the ultimate that anyone is ever pursuing — rebellion, authenticity and acceptance here, for example — so often proves ephemeral. Little in the way of surprises might fuel The Bikeriders' narrative, especially if you've watched past biker fare — Lyon's book predates Easy Rider by a year — but twists and turns are never the point. Instead, the anticipated cycles keep turning as Nichols prods whether the dream that he's capturing, as his photographer inspiration did before him, was ever destined for more than transience. Johnny's version of the club — and the solace that someone such as the scruffy Zipco, who gives voice to securing a niche he isn't otherwise afforded in a speech about being turned down for Vietnam enlistment, is seeking — withers as the Vandals grows. Rides and hangouts erupt in scuffles and fights over power. Attitudes among newcomers make the OG crew seem positively gentle. Benny struggles, too, caught between two sets of the last thing that he wants from anyone: expectations. As it gets the wind ruffling Butler's hair and the bouffant of Comer's locks defying gravity, Nichols has crafted a film that plays so eagerly like a throwback with such a lived-in atmosphere, but also with probing intentions pumping through every second. It presents. It unpacks. It motors along with the throbbing and the cruisiness alike of an engine letting rip on long Sunday-afternoon drive, digging into this slice of countercultural Americana and the hopes it stands for in the process. As its director did with Shotgun Stories almost two decades ago now, The Bikeriders also has tortured masculinity in its sights, another realm where visions of perfection are fated to crash. And as Nichols constantly returns to in his filmography, how desperately someone — everyone — attempts to hold onto what they love and dream about also slicks this intimate flick like oil. The longer that The Bikeriders goes on, the heartier that the initial Vandals tussle with their expanding roster, as more and more faces and agendas join its ranks. The feature itself has no such regrets, including when Norman Reedus (The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon), Karl Glusman (Civil War), Toby Wallace (The Royal Hotel) and Damon Herriman (The Artful Dodger) help flesh out the cast. Mirroring the club with Benny, the movie benefits from having Butler at its heart, though. In a strong on-screen year to rival 2022's Elvis whirlwind, which nabbed him a BAFTA and a Golden Globe, plus an Oscar nomination, he follows Dune: Part Two and Masters of the Air with a magnetic, layered, revealing and committed performance while so frequently uttering little aloud. The also-exceptional Comer and ever-commanding Hardy aren't stuck in their co-star's shadow, as their characters happily are with Benny, but this film about the allure of the ideal knows how to make that exact notion its vista. Unlike everything that the Vandals aspires to encapsulate, however, Butler never falters.
In showbusiness, nepotism is as inescapable as movies about movies. Both are accounted for in The Souvenir: Part II. But when talents as transcendent as Honor Swinton Byrne, her mother Tilda Swinton and writer/director Joanna Hogg are involved — with the latter working with the elder Swinton since her first short, her graduation piece Caprice, back in 1986 before Honor was even born — neither family ties nor filmmaking navel-gazing feel like something routine. Why this isn't a surprise with this trio is right there in the movie's name, after the initial The Souvenir proved such a devastatingly astute gem in 2019. It was also simply devastating, following an aspiring director's romance with a charismatic older man through to its traumatic end. Both in its masterful narrative and its profound impact, Part II firmly picks up where its predecessor left off. In just her third film role — first working with her mum in 2009's I Am Love before The Souvenir and now this — Swinton Byrne again plays 80s-era filmmaking student Julie Harte. But there's now a numbness to the wannabe helmer after her boyfriend Anthony's (Tom Burke, Mank) death, plus soul-wearying shock after discovering the double life he'd been living that her comfortable and cosy worldview hadn't conditioned her to ever expect. Decamping to the Norfolk countryside, to her family home and to the warm but entirely upper-middle-class, stiff-upper-lip embrace of her well-to-do parents Rosalind (Swinton, The French Dispatch) and William (James Spencer Ashworth) is only a short-term solution, however. Julie's thesis film still needs to be made — yearns to pour onto celluloid, in fact — but that's hardly a straightforward task. As the initial movie was, The Souvenir: Part II is another semi-autobiographical affair from Hogg, with Swinton Byrne slipping back into her on-screen shoes. This time, the director doesn't just dive into her formative years four decades back, but also excavates what it means to mine your own life for cinematic inspiration — aka the very thing she's been doing with this superb duo of features. That's what Julie does as well as she works on the film's film-within-a-film, sections of which play out during The Souvenir: Part II's running time and are basically The Souvenir. Accordingly, viewers have now spent two pictures watching Hogg's protagonist lives the experiences she'll then find a way to face through her art, all while Hogg moulds her two exceptional — and exceptionally intimate and thoughtful — movies out of that exact process. Julie's graduation project is also an escape, given it's patently obvious that the kindly, well-meaning but somehow both doting and reserved Rosalind and William have been pushed out of their comfort zone by her current crisis. Helping their daughter cope with her heroin-addicted lover's passing isn't something either would've considered might occur, so they natter away about Rosalind's new penchant for crafting Etruscan-style pottery instead — using small talk to connect without addressing the obvious, as all families lean on at some point or another. They provide financing for Julie's film, too, in what proves the easiest part of her concerted efforts to hop back behind the lens and lose herself in her work. Elsewhere, an array of doubt and questions spring from her all-male film-school professors, and the assistance she receives from her classmates is quickly steeped in rivalries, envy and second-guessing. More than once, queries arise about why Julie makes particular choices — and seeing how Swinton Byrne responds under Hogg's meticulous direction is one of the key reasons that The Souvenir: Part II is as powerful and compelling as it is. Like everything in the film, it's a revelation in layers, which unpeel far deeper than merely asking Swinton Byrne to be her director's on-screen surrogate. An introvert, Julie is visibly unaccustomed to the scrutiny that comes with her ambitious project, and with needing to handle her inner hurt under a spotlight. Swinton Byrne makes that plain quietly but repeatedly, all while conveying how Julie's self-hesitation slowly dissipates the longer she goes on, the more she struggles with, and the more mistakes she makes and solves. How this process echoes through her work, shaping both it and Julie herself, ripples through to a disarmingly intense degree — and with crucial aid from cinematographer David Raedeker (Swimming with Men) and production designer Stéphane Collonge (God's Own Country). There's no shaking the grief of it all, of course. As a musing on mourning, plus a perceptive glimpse at how the bereaved are expected to soldier on despite placating words offered otherwise, The Souvenir: Part II is shattering. Amid movie-within-movie sequences that'd owe thanks to David Lynch and Charlie Kaufman if they weren't so clearly diffused through Hogg's own lens — and after the other glimpse at the industry that comes via Richard Ayoade's (The Electrical Life of Louis Wain) returning Patrick, now successful, pompous AF, helming a huge movie musical and an enormous scene-stealer — the all-encompassing chaos that loss begets is laid bare. It's what drives Julie into bed with one of Patrick's stars (Charlie Heaton, Stranger Things), and sees her place perhaps too much on her own film's leading man (Harris Dickinson, The King's Man). In another of the feature's standout moments, it's also what causes her to misunderstand the sympathies of her editor (Joe Alwyn, Mary Queen of Scots) when support becomes hard to find. The Souvenir was a fated romantic tragedy. It was a vehicle for its director to work through her memories, too, and immortalise what she's now decided to keep; yes, that title is oh-so-telling. The Souvenir: Part II is a meditation upon loss, heartbreak and life's worst existential and inevitable woes, and also a way for Hogg to sift through her memories about all those memories, not to mention the new ones she conjured up when she first turned them into a movie a few years back. It's as smart, sensitive and stacked as an immensely personal piece of cinema can be, and it's also thrillingly savvy about how subjective everything it shows and interrogates needs to be by necessity. Cinema isn't short on memoirs, many of them wonderful — recent Oscar-winners Roma and Belfast, for example — but The Souvenir and its just-as-phenomenal sequel are in a bold and brilliant realm all of their own.
Lumen People recently joined a growing trend in the Melbourne cafe scene, deciding to transform into a wine bar a few nights a week. This is a big win for North Melbourne locals who have plenty of neighbourhood pubs to choose from, but a much smaller number of wine bars. And even though it already has a banging evening menu, Lumen People's decided to switch things up a little this June by inviting some of the city's most creative food and wine talents to take over the menu for a three-night event series. The first, running on Friday, June 14, sees Love Shack Brewery's Joe Baylon (ex-Aru and The Moon) running the pass from 6pm. Baylon will be serving up French-inspired eats that Foreign Fruits' Ibrahim Khudeira will pair with a specially-curated list of wines. Then, on the afternoon of Sunday, June 23, Capitano Head Chef Ryan Hodgson (ex-Bar Liberty) will be cooking up some southern soul food. Expect a heap of reimagined Sunday lunch classics that are "vaguely inspired by the Atlantic coast". Matt Kingsley Shaw (ex-MoVida and Ombra) from Portuguese wine importer Tasty Things will be providing the matched drops for this takeover. Rounding out the docket is Dora Mazzeo (ex-Bar Liberty and Hope St Radio), who has most recently been overseeing kitchen takeovers at Rathdowne Street fave Florian. She'll be slinging creative eats on Friday, June 28, alongside a curated wine list by Max Helsing from wine importer and distributor Halle aux Vins. These three food and wine takeovers are a great excuse to check out Lumen People's transformation into a wine bar, and to treat yourself to a little winter warmer. Images: Hugh McDonnell.
It was a small step for man and a giant leap for mankind. But what if the moon landing didn't actually happen? As far as conspiracy theories go, that line of thinking is up there with Elvis surviving his last date with his bathroom. Now, after decades of wondering, we finally have the incriminating vision. Okay, so not exactly. After toying with the found footage genre in their debut film The Dirties, writer-director-actor Matt Johnson and his regular co-star Owen Williams bring the same faux-documentary approach to the world of outlandish government coverups in Operation Avalanche. Playing fictionalised versions of themselves several decades before they were actually born, Johnson and Williams make the leap from college whiz kids to new CIA recruits to undercover operatives at NASA. Remarkably, that's the easy part. Once they've talked their way through the door of the space agency, pretending to be a documentary film crew but actually looking for a Russian spy, they discover that the space agency can't make it to earth's natural satellite as planned. And so a new secret scheme is hatched, drawing upon their background as filmmakers. But it also attracts some unwanted attention. Operation Avalanche unfolds as a movie within a movie — with the added bonus of yet another movie within that movie, too. In essence, the filmmakers are making a film about pretending to make a film, while at the same time recreating the historic footage of the actual lunar landing. Grainy images ensure that the movie fits its '60s setting to a tee, while shooting the whole thing in handheld style, often through windows or from various other unlikely hiding spots, helps sell the underlying premise. Sounds like a bit of cheeky fun, right? Seesawing between comedy and edge-of-your-seat thrills, that's exactly what Operation Avalanche delivers. At the same time, this paranoia-riddled satire couldn't feel more timely, despite the fact that it first premiered at the Sundance Film Festival a full year ago. Not being able to believe everything you see in the media isn't exactly a new sentiment, nor is thinking twice before trusting the words spoken by those in power. Still, imagining a modern version of this story given the current global political climate certainly isn't hard. Apart from the initial concept, perhaps Johnson's greatest trick is doing something different with both the found footage medium and the cold war thriller genre. This isn't the kind of shaky horror flick you've seen countless times before, or the type of USA versus USSR effort that has been pumped out since the 1960s. That's great news if you're a film buff, for whom Operation Avalanche feels tailor made. Indeed, with one of the most common moon landing conspiracies centred around 2001: A Space Odyssey director Stanley Kubrick, it shouldn't come as a surprise that one of the greatest filmmakers in history earns more than a couple of mentions.
The shock of unkempt hair, the Irish brogue, the misanthropic attitude: there's no mistaking Dylan Moran for anyone else. It was true in beloved British sitcom Black Books, when his on-screen alter ego abhorred mornings, ate coasters and claimed that his oven could cook anything (even belts). And it's definitely true of the comedian's acerbically hilarious live shows. Moran is no stranger to Australia, and last headed our way in 2019. Whether you've guffawed at his bleak wit live or you've always wanted to, you'll be able to see him on Saturday, May 8, too — thanks to a streamed version of his Brisbane show from his last visit. Expect the kind of deadpan gags, wine-soaked insights and blisteringly sharp one-liners that've kept him in the spotlight since 1996, when he became the youngest-ever winner of the Edinburgh Fringe's Perrier Award. Dr Cosmos once again features Moran's grumpily lyrical musings on love, politics, misery and the everyday absurdities of life, which you can watch for $18 from your couch. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FMfRpM5PJRw
If you’re familiar with Cat Power (aka Chan Marshall), then you know how badass she is. Her singer-songwriter meets rock star persona sets her apart as one of the more unique musicians out there. Those who saw her at Golden Plains this past March know what we’re talking about. Don’t fret if you missed her then, because you’ll soon have another chance. Cat Power is crossing the pond again for an Australian tour this summer. Cat Power’s ten-show tour will kick off this January at the Sydney Festival. It was just announced that she would be a guest performer at the festival’s Big Star tribute show alongside Jody Stephens, Mike Mills (R.E.M.), Ken Stringfellow (The Posies), Chris Stamey (The dB’s), Mitch Easter (Let’s Active), Edwyn Collins and Kurt Vile. Power’s Sydney shows will continue the day after at the Circus Ronaldo Tent with a matinee and midnight show. After, she’ll continue down the coast, performing in Milton, Canberra, Melbourne, Menniyan and concluding in Perth. So if you haven’t heard Cat Power in a while, it’ll be worth hitting up one of her shows. Her newish album, Sun, is freshly awesome and and her blonde coif is shocking, but that’s why we love Cat. She always keeps you coming back for more.
When it was revealed that Watchmen was returning — with the comic book series getting the HBO treatment a decade after the movie of the same name — it felt like obvious news. Caped crusaders are big business on screens both small and silver, and every old superhero becomes new again at some point. But no one could've predicted just how this nine-part series would turn out, how timely it'd feel and how it'd take on an identity of its own. Set 34 years after the events of Alan Moore, Dave Gibbons and John Higgins' graphic novels, there's a reason that it has been scooping up all the awards for the past year. This version of Watchmen is still set in the same alternate reality; however, under showrunner Damon Lindelof (Lost, The Leftovers), it turns its focus to racially motivated violence and vigilantism. It's brought to the screen with a top-notch cast (including Regina King, Jeremy Irons, Don Johnson, Hong Chau and Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) and a bucket load of murky complexity.
UPDATE, June 28, 2022: RRR is available to stream via Netflix. The letters in RRR's title are short for Rise Roar Revolt. They could also stand for riveting, rollicking and relentless. They link in with the Indian action movie's three main forces, too — writer/director SS Rajamouli (Baahubali: The Beginning), plus stars NT Rama Rao Jr (Aravinda Sametha Veera Raghava) and Ram Charan (Vinaya Vidheya Rama) — and could describe the sound of some of its standout moments. What noise echoes when a motorcycle is used in a bridge-jumping rescue plot, as aided by a horse and the Indian flag, amid a crashing train? Or when a truck full of wild animals is driven into a decadent British colonialist shindig and its caged menagerie unleashed? What racket resounds when a motorbike figures again, this time tossed around by hand (yes, really) to knock out those imperialists, and then an arrow is kicked through a tree into someone's head? Or, when the movie's two leads fight, shoot, leap over walls and get acrobatic, all while one is sat on the other's shoulders? RRR isn't subtle. Instead, it's big, bright, boisterous, boldly energetic, and brazenly unapologetic about how OTT and hyperactive it is. The 187-minute Tollywood action epic — complete with huge musical numbers, of course — is also a vastly captivating pleasure to watch. Narrative-wise, it follows the impact of the British Raj (aka England's rule over the subcontinent between 1858–1947), especially upon two men. In the 1920s, Bheem (Jr NTR, as Rao is known) is determined to rescue young fellow villager Malli (first-timer Twinkle Sharma), after she's forcibly taken by Governor Scott Buxton (Ray Stevenson, Vikings) and his wife Catherine (Alison Doody, Beaver Falls) for no reason but they're powerful and they can. Officer Raju (Charan) is tasked by the crown with making sure Bheem doesn't succeed in rescuing the girl, and also keeping India's population in their place because their oppressors couldn't be more prejudiced. There's more to both men's stories because there's so much more to RRR's story; to fill the movie's lengthy running time, Rajamouli hasn't skimped on plot. Indeed, there's such a wealth of things going on that the film is at once a kidnapping melodrama, a staunch missive against colonialism, a political drama, a rom-com and a culture-clash comedy — involving Bheem's affection for the sole kindly Brit, Jenny (Olivia Morris, Hotel Portofino) — and a war movie. It's a buddy comedy as well, starting when Bheem and Raja join forces for that aforementioned bridge rescue, yet don't realise they're on opposite sides in the battle over Malli. It's also as spectacular an action flick as has graced cinema screens, and as gleefully overblown. Plus, it's an infectiously mesmerising musical. One dazzling dance-off centrepiece doubles as a rebuff against British rule, racism and classism, in fact, and it's also nothing short of phenomenal to look at, too. Spectacle is emphatically the word for RRR — not quite from its scene-setting opening, where Malli is ripped from her family, but from the second that Raju shows how well he can handle himself. That involves taking on a hefty horde of protesters single-handedly with just a stick as a weapon, because extravagance and excess is baked into every second of the feature. Super-sized is another term that clearly fits, because little holds back even for a second. And a third word, if the film bumped up its moniker to the next letter in the alphabet? That'd be sincere. An enormous reason that everything that's larger than life about RRR — which is absolutely everything — works, even when it's also often silly and cheesy, is because it's so earnest about how determined it is to entertain. You don't use that amount of slow-motion shots if you don't know you're being corny at times, unashamedly so. If the whole friends-but-enemies dynamic between Bheem and Raja sounds like The Departed and Infernal Affairs, that's just part of RRR's exuberant melange of influences — just like genres. Its protagonists Komaram Bheem and Alluri Sitarama Raju are actually ripped from reality, with each revolutionaries, although their tales didn't ever intertwine. (No, nothing IRL in history has ever resembled this). The Harder They Fall did the same thing, fictionalising the past to make a statement and craft barnstorming cinema, but in America, in the Old West and with Black characters. Imagine the same idea given the Michael Bay treatment in India and that's almost the wavelength that RRR runs on. Imagine the right kind of Bayhem, though — Pain and Gain, for instance — or just think of his penchant for shamelessly go-for-broke action scenes and ignore everything he usually stuffs around them. When a filmmaker is helming an action onslaught, just as when they're overseeing musical scenes, choreography is always key. That's another crucial factor in making RRR so engaging. Rajamouli's staging of both, and the way that the frays and song-and-dance numbers alike are shot by cinematographer KK Senthil Kumar (Vijetha) and edited by A Sreekar Prasad (Good Luck Sakhi), is a visual wonder. On one side, the Fast and Furious movies would be envious. On the other, Lin-Manuel Miranda might be. Again, RRR is often chaotically ridiculous, but it's also so well-made — so audaciously as well — that it's exhilarating. The films of John Woo come to mind at times, as do The Raid and The Raid: Redemption, but RRR is also its own beast. It's also easy to predict that Telugu-language cinema stars Jr NTR and Charan could get their moment in Hollywood; if Vin Diesel doesn't come calling, perhaps Quentin Tarantino will when he hops behind the camera next. Jr NTR and Charan are megawatt movie stars, one playing an everyman who becomes a hero, the other the picture of dutiful and skilled authority — and deep-seated conflict — who does the same. They're dynamite together amid the rampant maximalism, the stunts and the CGI-heavy special effects. Yes, that means that RRR is also a bromance. The film's central pair live their lives one anti-colonialist tussle at a time, though. Their characters are also posed as superheroes, never with the term ever mentioned, but in just how super-adept they are. Of course, the usual sprawling caped-crusader franchises typically don't feel this overstimulated, ardent, often-absurd and engagingly alive.
It wasn't just a Twitter thread — it was the Twitter thread. Whether you read Aziah 'Zola' King's viral 148-post stripper saga live as it happened back in October 2015, stumbled across the details afterwards as the internet lost its mind or only heard about it via Zola's buzzy trailer, calling this stranger-than-fiction tale a wild ride will always be an understatement. Its instantly gripping opening words, as also used in Janicza Bravo's (Lemon) savvy, sharp, candy-hued tweet-to-screen adaptation, happen to capture the whole OMG, WTF and OTT vibe perfectly: "you wanna hear a story about how me and this bitch fell out? It's kind of long, but it's full of suspense." In the film, that phrase is uttered aloud by Zola's eponymous Detroit waitress (Taylour Paige, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom). Still, the movie firmly embraces its origins. For those wondering how a filmmaker turns a series of tweets into a feature, Bravo handles the task with flair, energy, enthusiasm and a clear understanding of social media's role in our lives. Much of the phrasing that the real-life Zola used has made its way into the conversational script, which was co-written by playwright Jeremy O Harris. Each time that occurs, the film echoes with tell-tale swooshes, whistles and dings. But those words and alerts are just the starting point; as Zola's chaotic narrative unfurls, it comes to life with a mix of the hyperreal, the loose and the dreamy. It doesn't merely tell a tale taken from the tweetstorm to end all tweetstorms, but also uses every aesthetic choice it can to mirror the always-on, always-posing, always-sharing online realm. The other person that Zola refers to in her initial statement is the cornrow-wearing, blaccent-sporting Stefani (Riley Keough, The Lodge), who she serves at work, then joins on a jaunt to Florida. They immediately hit it off, which is what inspires the invite to head south — a "hoe trip" is how Zola describes it — however, what's meant to be a girls' getaway for a stint of lucrative exotic dancing in Tampa soon gets messy. The drive is long, and Stefani's boyfriend Derreck (Nicholas Braun, Succession) quickly dampens the mood with his awkward, try-hard schtick. Then there's X (Colman Domingo, Candyman), who, while introduced as Stefani's roommate, is actually her pimp. Trafficking Zola into sex work is the real plan of this working holiday, she discovers, but she's ferociously adamant that she won't be "poppin' pussy for pennies". As the woman both relaying and riding Zola's rollercoaster of a story, Paige is fierce and finessed. It's a tricky part; making the dialogue sound authentic, and also like it could've just been rattled off on social media with a mix of emojis and all caps, requires a precise tonal balance, for starters. So does ensuring that Zola always feels like a real person, especially given the tale's ups and downs. That said, Paige is guided by Bravo at every turn, with recognising how things play online and how they pan out in reality — and the frequent disconnection between the two — one of the filmmaker's biggest masterstrokes. That's exactly what a flick that's based on a Twitter thread should offer, rather than just mining posts for punchy content that's already proven popular. Using the platform as source material definitely doesn't equal an endorsement here. Instead, it sparks a brash and bouncy feature that interrogates its inspiration and the mechanism that turned it into a whirlwind, rather than serves up a cinematic retweet. Zola also draws upon David Kushner's Rolling Stone article 'Zola Tells All: The Real Story Behind the Greatest Stripper Saga Ever Tweeted', because 148 tweets can't cover everything. Nonetheless, plenty of the film's success emanates from its almost-surreal 16mm imagery and its airy, eerie-scored atmosphere, too. Its namesake's early words aren't misleading: this is a narrative filled with suspense. The waves it surfs in its mood and stylistic decisions cause just as must jitteriness, though — in a fantastic way. Zola hangs together immaculately, and it constantly feels as if Bravo, cinematographer Ari Wegner (The Power of the Dog), editor Joi McMillon (If Beale Street Could Talk) and composer Mica Levi (Monos) could go anywhere. That's a powerhouse lineup of talent, after all, with the latter trio's resumes spanning some of the killer films of the past decade: Lady Macbeth, In Fabric, True History of the Kelly Gang, Moonlight, Under the Skin and Jackie all included. Alongside Paige, Zola's cast is equally impressive, even if it initially appears as if a few might simply stick to type. Keough could've stepped off of American Honey's set and onto this one, and not just because they're both road-trip movies, yet adds another tricky yet memorable performance to her filmography. Written into her character, and conveyed in her portrayal as well, is a dissection of cultural appropriation. Stefani acts like she's Black in lieu of forming her own identity, is wilfully ignorant of that fact while being openly racist, and provides a pinpoint-precise portrait of oblivious, exploitative, all-devouring whiteness. Similar ideas bubble through Braun's work as the gangly and bungling Derrek — a twist on his acclaimed Cousin Greg persona, but with far less cash — and the concept of adopting a part and facade also lingers in Colman's scarily compelling and icily charming efforts. These are layered performances, befitting the rich and multi-faceted film they're in. Nothing in any movie is ever just one thing, but Zola demonstrates that notion with commitment and command. It's there in the feature's bold approach, including its eagerness to unpack its genesis on several levels. It's there in the film's gleaming yet never glamorous appearance as well, which almost pitches itself into the world of fantasy while steadfastly recognising that nothing about its story is seductive or alluring. And, it echoes in the tiniest of choices. Take an early moment, in a bathroom, where both Zola and her new pal take a leak. Shot from above, this is the smartest peeing scene you're ever likely to see, and expresses so much about its central duo purely by peering at their urine. Turning tweets and piss into a must-see movie? That's cinematic alchemy.
Baywatch. The name alone is insanely evocative, conjuring up images of bronzed bodies, bouncing breasts and David Hasselhoff blasting his way through "some people staaaaand in the darkness, afraid to step intooo the light!" For a time it was one of the most widely syndicated and watched TV program in the entire world – despite its altogether preposterous premise about impossibly attractive lifeguards solving crimes and stopping diamond smugglers with the same regularity that they prevented a casual drowning. The show was ridiculous and it was gratuitous...but it worked, and it was great TV. Fast forward twenty-odd years and Baywatch now finds itself the latest victim of a visionless Hollywood system forever sucking the life out of cinema by simply rehashing old ideas and formats rather then gambling on something new. TV to film has admittedly seen a handful of notable wins (21 Jump Street, for example), but the vast majority of these reboots fall harder and faster than the abysmal jokes they attempt to deliver (think Power Rangers, CHiPS and the disastrous Absolutely Fabulous). The new Baywatch movie is sadly no exception. This is puerile comedy at best, where the laughs are so infrequent they almost feel accidental. It is a film without purpose, failing to even entertain at the most basic level. There's no finesse to be found; no craft on display or subtlety to admire. It's a stupid and pointless movie whose only aim seems to be to rob you of both your time and your money. If that seems unfair, consider that the longest scene in the film centres largely upon Zac Efron's character having to fondle and examine a dead man's flaccid penis and scrotum while his partner laughs and takes photos on his phone. As for the second longest scene? Another man's penis (erect, this time) is wedged in a park bench and needs to be extricated while onlookers laugh and take photos on their phones. In amongst it all is Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson – and it's a credit to the man's charisma and star power that he almost singlehandedly keeps this stinker afloat. With penetrating eyes and a big beaming grin, Johnson treads that appealing line between physically intimidating and loveably huggable (something we've not really seen since Schwarzenegger's iconic turn in Kindergarten Cop). His onscreen rapport with Efron is not without its appeal, although there's absolutely no plot or script to back it up. As the film's antagonist, Bollywood superstar Priyanka Chopra lends her class and talent to a project that otherwise has none. Meanwhile, the supporting cast grimaces and stumbles their way through scene after scene without any clear idea why they're there or what they're doing. Sometimes self-aware and other times bizarrely serious, Baywatch is a film entirely out of its depth, slipping beneath the waves and in no way worthy of rescue. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyKOgnaf0BU
Pipes blow gently. The camera swirls. Rows of plants fill the screen. Some are leafy and flowery as they reach for the sky; others are just stems topped with closed buds. Both types of vegetation are lined up in boxes in an austere greenhouse. Soon, another shoot of green appears among them. Plant breeder Alice (Emily Beecham, Cruella) is cloaked in a lab coat far paler than any plant, but the symbolism is evident — and, although audiences don't know it yet, her cropped red hair resembles the crimson flowers that'll blossom in her genetically engineered new type of flora, too. "The aim has been to create a plant with a scent that makes its owner happy," she says. She explains that most research in her field has involved cultivating greenery that requires less human interaction; however, her new breed does the opposite. This species needs more watering and more protection from the elements, and responds to touch and talk. In return, it emits a scent that kickstarts the human hormone oxytocin when inhaled. Linked to motherhood and bonding, that response will make everyone "love this plant like your own child," Alice advises, beaming like a proud parent. So starts Little Joe, which shares its name with the vegetation in question — a "mood-lifting, anti-depressant, happy plant," Alice's boss (David Wilmot, Calm with Horses) boasts. She's borrowed her son's (Kit Connor, Rocketman) moniker for her new baby, although she gives it more attention than the flesh-and-blood teen, especially with the push to get it to market speeding up. The clinical gaze favoured by Austrian filmmaker Jessica Hausner (Amour fou) is telling, though. The eerie tone of the Japanese-style, flute- and percussion-heavy score sets an unsettling mood as well. And, there's something not quite right in the overt eagerness of Alice's colleague Chris (Ben Whishaw, Fargo), and in the way that everyone dismisses the one naysayer, Bella (Kerry Fox, Top End Wedding), who has just returned to work after a mental health break. Making her first English-language feature, Hausner layers this tension across every image, sound and interaction within Little Joe. Dread, too. Agitation blooms inescapably in a movie that quickly becomes a disquieting sci-fi/horror masterwork. Like many features in the genre, this is a film about possibilities and consequences, creation and costs, and happiness and sacrifices. It's about both daring to challenge and dutifully abiding by conformity as well, and about the societal need not just to thrive and survive, but to prosper and propagate by creating order out of chaos. And yet, as recognisable as these themes and ideas are, Little Joe is always its own beast. Aspects of Frankenstein are at play, and The Day of the Triffids, and even Side Effects. The film also has much to say about motherhood, the expectations that come with it, and the way that women are supposed to acquiesce to everything around them. But as anyone familiar with Mary Shelley's iconic work knows, combining familiar elements can give birth to an intriguing new entity that's much more than just the sum of its components. Little Joe, the plant, is alive — obviously. As it scent wafts through nostrils, it evokes change. Like Frankenstein's creature, it yearns for love and attention. It doesn't scream, but it still clamours to be cared for. As Alice notes in the aforementioned opening scene, her creation is specifically designed to respond to human affection. It reacts when it's nurtured, though, rather than rankling against its absence. And, as Alice begins to discover slowly but noticeably, that response has repercussions. Co-scripting with Géraldine Bajard, who she also worked with on Amour fou and Lourdes, Hausner tinkers with a classic tale to make several statements. She ponders the advertising-reinforced need for bliss that we're all meant to covet, and the way we're conditioned to accept progress and advancement — and to actively work towards it — no matter the ramifications. She also interrogates wellness bandwagons, purportedly easy cures and profiting from the quest for happiness, as well as the notion that normality and being like everyone else is worth striving for. The more that Little Joe examines the impact that Alice's work has upon her home life, too, the more it explores the pressures and demands that come with balancing personal and professional spheres. As a science fiction film, this savvily unnerving creation has much germinating within its frames. As a horror movie, it unpacks existential and primal worries with slickness and smarts. Hausner also calls upon aspects of The Little Shop of Horrors and The Invasion of the Body Snatchers — and, although it premiered at the 2019 Cannes Film Festival, before the pandemic, Little Joe slides into the cohort of contagion-focused flicks that contemplate the way infections spread, evolve and reshape everything in their image. Plus, this is a feature about awakenings, as Alice cottons on to exactly what she's created. Its aesthetic might be sparse — whites, greys and glassy surfaces punctuated by small bursts of colour, including from Little Joe's petals and the pink lights needed to make them blossom — but its musings and impact are anything but. Indeed, if there's any stylistic flourish that epitomises the film overall, it's Martin Gschlacht's exacting and controlled cinematography. In his camera placement and shot composition, he peered just as meticulously in the exceptional Australian horror film Goodnight Mommy, and he demonstrates the festering unease that lingers in icy restraint here once again. Watching Alice navigate all of the above, it should come as no surprise that Beecham has earned awards for her performance — the Best Actress prize at Cannes, in fact. She plays a creator forced to face the reality of her dreams, achievements and choices; a mother confronted with changes in both of her children; and a woman weathering the world's expectations. As Alice's status quo crumbles, Beecham's quiet distress and sprouting doubts are palpable, and she couldn't be more crucial to the film. Hers isn't an overt portrayal, though. Its power grows, fittingly, in a movie that's constantly striking in its premise, tone, look, emotions and concepts. Little Joe's audience won't need a plant to alter their mood — this distinctive and beguiling standout manages that all by itself.
For this year's Good Beer Week festivities, Taxi Kitchen invites punters to indulge in a little escapism at its sumptuous banquet inspired by a post-hunt feast. Think: long communal tables, merriment in abundance and a menu centred around a giant whole beast. On Wednesday, May 19, the Fed Square restaurant hosts its Good Swill Hunting dinner, celebrating hearty winter fare and some cracking beers from across Australia and New Zealand. Diners will be treated to a grand spread from executive chef Tony Twitchett, running from canapes and terrine, to a whole pig — with crackling — and an apple tart to finish. Each dish will be carefully matched to a tasty beer (or two), with the likes of Brooklyn Brewery's Pulp Art Hazy IPA, Panhead's Sucky Mon Mon Japanese lager and the golden sour ale by White Rabbit just some of those in the lineup. Craft Beer Ambassador Ryan Loft will play MC for the evening's festivities, and brewers from each label will be there to talk you through what you're drinking as you're drinking it. [caption id="attachment_680384" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Giulia Morlando[/caption]
If seasonal change has left you in a dizzy headspin of brand new colours and fabrics and prints and jackets — or if, y'know, you just like some fancy new clothes now and then — you'll be pretty pleased to know that the Big Fashion Sale is coming back to Melbourne for three days this October. The name pretty much says it all. This thing is big. You'll find lush items from past collections, samples and one-offs from over 20 cult Australian and international designers, both well-known and emerging, including Stella McCartney, Missoni, Karla Špetić, Studio Elke, Christopher Kane, Benah, Marni and more. With discounts of up to 80 percent off, this is one way of upping your street cred with designer threads that'll leave your bank balance sitting pretty too. Prices this low tend to inspire a certain level of ruthlessness in all of us, though, so practise that grabbing reflex in advance. This is every man and lady for themselves. The Big Fashion Sale will be open 9am till 7pm Friday, 10am till 6pm Saturday, and 10am till 4pm Sunday.
In 1977 Andrew found two boxes of books under his parents' house. He sold those books at the Wantirna Trash and Treasure Market for the princely sum of $12. Then in 1981, Andrew opened up his first shop in Ringwood, and two years later he opened this store in Ivanhoe. Now, Andrew's Bookshop is one of few independent booksellers serving Melbourne's northeastern suburbs. So, go say 'g'day', and make sure to ask about the featured author of the week (it's usually a local author).
After spooking participants in Queen Victoria Market in July, the unnerving Séance installation is returning to Melbourne. The big, white container — with dark curtains and black letters splashed across its side — is popping up at the Market for one last (terrifying) hurrah this January. If you're not familiar with the installation, and didn't have the chance to visit early this year, a word of warning: its aim is to mess with your senses. Participants take a seat inside the tiny space, put on a headset and are told to place both hands on the table. The lights go out leaving the container in absolute darkness and, for 15 uneasy minutes, participants are taken on an immersive journey led only by touch and sounds. Expect to feel confused, repulsed and struck with temporary claustrophobia. According to organisers, numerous participants bailed halfway through sittings during the recent Melbourne sessions. You're probably thinking that there's something dark or supernatural about the whole thing — and going by the name, we don't blame you. But the installation's organiser assures us that 'séance' is simply a French word meaning 'session' or 'sitting'. Did we mention that the velvet seats date back to 1913 and were pulled from an abandoned theatre? And so Séance is a sensory experience that looks at the psychology of both sensory deprivation and the dynamics of a group sitting together. It's a scary indicator of how easy it is for confusion, disorientation and information overload to affect our judgment. Artists David Rosenberg and Glen Neath of Darkfield (who have collaborated in other sensory deprivation projects before) are the creative masterminds behind the project, which has been described as 'disorienting' and 'deeply unsettling'. We're serious when we say it's not recommended for the claustrophobic, the easily frightened or those afraid of the dark. Séance will be held on Wednesday, Friday and Saturday nights between 6–8pm.
The Allan Labor Government has launched the new Victorian Pill Testing Service at 95 Brunswick Street, Fitzroy, with doors opening on Thursday, August 21. The service will provide completely free, confidential and nonjudgmental advice from health professionals to people who choose to use illicit substances. Operating three days a week — Thursdays (12–4pm), Fridays (3–7pm) and Saturdays (1–7pm) — the Fitzroy service offers more access hours than any other pill testing program currently available in Australia. Its central location places it close to nightlife, public transport and community health services, making it easier for people to access this potentially life-saving support when they're likely to need it most. The fixed site will test pills, capsules, powders, crystals and liquids — while also screening for highly dangerous synthetic opioids such as fentanyl and nitazenes. These substances have become increasingly prevalent in the Australian drug market and are associated with a significant risk of overdose and death. Alongside testing, the service plays a vital role in real-time drug monitoring, providing early warnings to health authorities about new and potent substances in circulation. The Fitzroy service is being delivered by a trusted consortium including Youth Support and Advocacy Service, The Loop Australia and Harm Reduction Victoria, with backing from Melbourne Health, Youth Projects and Metabolomics Australia at the University of Melbourne. Victoria's mobile pill testing unit will also continue, returning to major festivals this summer after assessing almost 1400 samples last season and issuing two statewide alerts about dangerous substances. Evidence from the trial so far highlights the program's impact: 65 percent of service users had their first-ever harm reduction conversation with a health professional, more than 30 percent reported they would take a smaller amount of drugs after testing, and 91 percent of users were aged 18–30. "Pill testing works," said Minister for Mental Health Ingrid Stitt on the results from the mobile trial. "With Victoria's first fixed site now open, we're giving people more opportunities to have honest, health-focused conversations and get the information they need to make safer choices." Images: iStock
Something completely new is set to join Australia's skyline: a Skystand overlooking the Brisbane Cricket Ground, aka the Gabba. Located atop 20-storey development Silk One in Woolloongabba's Trafalgar Street, it's exactly what it sounds like: a rooftop terrace that peers over the stadium, allowing residents to see whatever might be happening on the ground — namely Brisbane Lions AFL matches during winter and cricket games over summer. A handful of concerts also take place at the Gabba, with Adele playing there in 2017 and Taylor Swift slated for later in 2018. The idea is that people who live one of the complex's 178 apartments (or people who are friends with people who live in the apartments) will get access to these events without really leaving home, all while hanging out on a sky-high timber deck, underneath a pergola, with a big screen TV and a dining and barbecue area at their fingertips. The rooftop will also include a gym, pool, spa and sun lounges, in case whatever's on in the stadium doesn't pique your interest. Of course, an obvious question has to be asked: how much will you really be able to see from 20 levels up? Sure, there'll be a television on hand so that you can watch all of the ins and outs of the game in detail, and you'll save yourself the cost of a ticket. But the Gabba is more likely to provide a glossy backdrop as you hang out in the Skystand, rather than letting you actually enjoy the game or concert. Still, we're guessing the sound of the crowd, or whoever is on stage crooning, will echo up that far. Given that the area around the Gabba is currently filled with both new high-rises and construction sites in the process of erecting new high-rises, it wouldn't be surprising if other buildings follow suit. That said, the folks behind Silk One say their Skystand has been "strategically designed to maximise the birds-eye views of the Gabba stadium". Silk One in Woolloongabba and its Skystand are slated for completion in mid-2020.
Doughnut fiends, drop everything and run — don't walk — to Windsor. For one week only between September 18 and 25, 190 High Street is playing host to the first-ever Bistro Morgan doughnut pop-up. If you've tried their delectable orbs of pastry, you'll know why we're encouraging you to rush there as quickly as possible. Did we mention that chef Morgan Hipworth makes a Golden Gaytime doughnut? We can hear your stomach grumbling from here. You'll also find Ferrero Rocher, Fairy Floss, Fruit Loops, peanut butter and jelly, and Bounty bar concoctions among his ever-growing range of handmade deliciousness, with each stacked with toppings, brandishing a sauce-filled syringe or both. Of course, it's not just Hipworth's mouth-watering creations that have caused a buzz over the last 18 months, and caused eager doughnut lovers to flock to the cafes that stock them each and every weekend — it's also the chef himself. He's been called Melbourne's doughnut prince, and it's a label that fits. The 15-year-old whips up his tasty treats when he's not at high school, after all. Yes, really. Hipworth taught himself to cook when he was seven, after being inspired by Masterchef (and provided perhaps the best endorsement of reality television he ever could in the process). Cooking up three-course dinners for his parents and grandparents then turned into Bistro Morgan. He still runs things from home around his classes, but he eventually wants to open his own cafes and restaurants. For now, we'll all be more than happy with a week-long pop-up serving his damn fine doughnuts. Find Bistro Morgan's pop-up store at 190 High Street, Windsor from September 18 to 25. Check out their website and Facebook page for more information.
The Butler tells the story of Cecil Gaines (Forest Whitaker), an African American man who grew up on the cotton fields of the South only to then serve for decades as a butler in the White House. His tenure lasted from the administrations of Eisenhower all the way through to Reagan, and through his eyes director Lee Daniels shows us the intimate, unseen moments behind some of America's most turbulent periods. From Jackie Kennedy sitting alone, blood-soaked and weeping, to Richard Nixon foraging for snacks in the kitchen, Gaines dutifully tended to their needs — at once indispensable and yet imperceptible so as to not even seem present in the room. While presidents came and went, however, the issue of race relations remained ever-present and increasingly divisive in the United States, and it is that which forms the focus of Daniels' film. This subject is explored not just through Gaines' story as butler to those most possessed of the power to effect change but through his son, Louis (David Oyelowo), who became a passionate black rights activist, travelling on the Freedom Bus, working alongside Martin Luther King and even becoming a Black Panther. This use of concurrent plot lines occasionally hits home, most notably when a lavish state dinner at the White House is intercut with the infamous Woolworth's diner sit in, during which black customers were bashed and abused for ignoring segregated seating. More often, though, the White House scenes feel like they're from an entirely different movie; a cavalcade of celebrity impersonations ranging from the impressive (Alan Rickman as Reagan) to the outright bizarre (John Cusack as Nixon). Given the poignancy (if also Forrest Gump-esque convenience) of the son's civil rights vignette, it's tough not to feel The Butler would've been better served by excluding the presidents entirely, perhaps save for the occasional use of archival footage. Gaines is based on the former White House butler Eugene Allen, and in bringing him to life, Whitaker turns in arguably the performance of his career. He masterfully demonstrates the 'two faces' worn by African Americans during the decades of racial tension: one that's real, vulnerable and angry, the other that's designed to calm white people and keep them from feeling threatened. Oprah Winfrey also puts in a powerful performance as Gaines' wife — her first film role in 15 years since Beloved. Theirs is a marriage no less turbulent than the world around it, but its foundation is sound and their tenderness is genuinely moving through both the highs and the lows. Around them, the supporting cast is enormous, including Robin Williams, James Marsden, Cuba Gooding Jr, Lenny Kravitz, Liev Schreiber, Jane Fonda, Vanessa Redgrave and Terrence Howard. The Butler may at times stray into sanctimonious territory, even veering towards parody, but its honest depiction of some of America's darkest days and the performances by its leads make it more than worthwhile, delivering an ambitious, powerful and emotional two hours of cinema. https://youtube.com/watch?v=DUA7rr0bOcc
Next time a Sydney staycation or holiday is on the cards, you can forget all about the pesky task of finding a decent pet-sitter. Instead, that fur-kid of yours is allowed along for the ride — if you opt for a stay in one of The Old Clare Hotel's newly pet-friendly suites. Having scored a complete revamp back in 2015, the heritage-listed Chippendale lodgings has now broadened its clientele to include those of the four-legged variety. As of Monday, January 13, two of the hotel's suites — the Kent and Abercrombie — are completely pet-friendly. On request, they come decked out with extras like handmade pet bowls crafted by Motion Ceramics, Fuzz-Yard plush toys and a miniature retro-style lounge for your pet's sleeping and relaxing. For guests on the go, there's a pet directory listing animal-friendly bars and eateries, and handy dog-walking and dog-sitting services available through the hotel. And your furry mate can even get in on the all-important room service action, with a complimentary menu of in-room pet dining options. They'll find treats like Yummi roo bites for cats and Savourlife beef-flavoured dog biscuits, and dry and wet food, all available 24/7. Up to two pets are allowed per room and while the the offering is aimed primarily at dogs and cats, the Old Clare is also open to other critters — get in touch to see if your pet gecko, guinea pig or bunny is welcome along. Having your four-legged friend along on your getaway does come at a bit of a price, with the extra room charge clocking in at $100 per pet. That's on top of your suite's best available rate, so if you've got your doggo in tow, expect to pay starting from around $300 per night total for a stay in the Kent room and around $370 for the Abercrombie. Find The Old Clare Hotel at 1 Kensington Street, Chippendale. To book your pet-friendly stay, contact the reservations team on reservations@theoldclarehotel.com.au or call (02) 8277 8277.
There are two major joys to a good whodunnit: the puzzle and the journey. Whichever intriguing narrative is being thrust their way, audiences want to sleuth along with the characters, piecing clues together in their heads. They want to enjoy each and every one of the story's many ins, outs, twists and turns as all the details unravel, too. The greats of the genre, both on the page and the screen, understand this. It's what made Agatha Christie the queen of suspense, and what kept viewers glued to the screen during 2019's stellar mystery flick Knives Out. The makers of The Translators get this concept as well, and embrace it heartily. In fact, writer/director Régis Roinsard (Populaire) and his co-scribes Romain Compingt and Daniel Presley go a little heavy on convoluted minutiae and attempts to keep everyone guessing, but still mostly serve up an entertaining thriller. The Translators' premise is killer — in a film that doesn't shy away from a body count, but is actually more concerned with stolen pages from the yet-to-be-released last book in the bestselling The Man Who Did Not Want to Die series. The latest novel has only been seen by its secretive author, who refuses to reveal his identity to the world; arrogant French publisher Eric Angstrom (Lambert Wilson, The Odyssey), who made his entire fortune by releasing the first two hit instalments; and the nine translators the latter has assembled to prepare the text in multiple languages for a simultaneous worldwide debut. The enlisted team of experts are only being given 20 pages at a time, however, and they're all living and working in a lavish, highly secure, internet-free and heavily guarded underground bunker beneath a remote chateau for the duration of their two-month contract. Accordingly, when Angstrom receives an email threatening to leak the new book unless a huge ransom is paid, he's both perplexed and angry. Fleshing out its main players isn't high among The Translators' priorities, with Angstrom a cookie-cutter publishing sleaze and his sequestered translators all fitting clearcut types. The Lisbeth Salander-esque Portuguese twenty-something Telma (Maria Leite) arouses immediate suspicion, for example, while Italian Dario (Riccardo Scarmarcio, John Wick: Chapter 2) is dashing and enigmatic, German Ingrid (Anna-Maria Sturm) is a stickler for procedure and Chinese employee Chen (Frédéric Chau) always takes a practical approach. The film attempts to be a tad more furtive about Katerina (Olga Kurylenko, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote), a Russian who purposely dresses to resemble the fated heroine in the book the group is working on, and Englishman Alex (Alex Lawther, The End of the F***ing World), who is noticeably young — but casting choices, with the two ranking among the film's most recognisable faces, already tell the audience that these characters will stand out. Including beleaguered mother Helene (Sidse Babett Knudsen, In Fabric), stuttering Spaniard Javier (Edouardo Noriega) and cynical Greek Konstantinos (Manolis Mavromatakis), The Translators treats everyone on-screen like pawns, all in service of its twisty mystery. That's standard for the genre, though — if you're going to quickly strip a group of suspects down to their underlying motives in intriguingly heightened circumstances, it often helps if there's not too much padding on top. And while that whole tactic is glaringly apparent here, The Translators endeavours to keep proceedings humming along by zipping between new developments at a frantic pace. The movie takes time to establish its concept, naturally, and to explain everything that's relevant about the locked-in situation its titular figures find themselves in (complete with tours of gleaming subterranean pools and bowling alleys). After the groundwork has been laid, it then hurtles forward like someone furiously thumbing through an airport novel. At times, it gets a little too carried away with the exaggerated drip-fed clues, surprise reveals and reversals, but this is still a slick, swift-moving affair that ticks all the whodunnit basics. Sometimes, and usually entertainingly so, it navigates through plenty of heist flick staples as well. As a result, The Translators is understandably a story and style-driven film rather than an actor showpiece; however Roinsard has amassed a considerable group of talent. Ensuring that a mystery's characters demand the audience's attention, even if they're little more than archetypes, is another crucial aspect of the genre — and, thanks to the convincingly slimy Wilson, the slippery Lawther and the melodramatic Kurylenko especially, that's achieved. Also generally hitting the spot while remaining as overt as possible: the movie's contemplation of art versus commerce, and of literary fandom. Nothing new is spouted or revealed, particularly given the obsessiveness that some books garner in real life, but tussling with these ideas gives the feature a bit of extra bite nonetheless. That doesn't make The Translators an overly memorable whodunnit, but that's the thing with page-turners and their filmic equivalent — if you enjoy the game and the ride enough once, it doesn't matter if you won't be clamouring for a second helping. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=THXebxAFCzY
Do we really need another movie about male mid-life malaise? The answer, obviously, is no. Still, don't discount the partially crowd-funded Anomalisa on account of its seemingly familiar storyline. Springing from the mind of Being John Malkovich, Adaptation and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind writer Charlie Kaufman, who also co-directs with stop-motion specialist Duke Johnson, this animated effort is far from commonplace. Kaufman's latest sad-sack protagonist is author Michael Stone (voiced by David Thewlis). In Cincinnati overnight to speak about his latest book at a customer service convention, he's lonely and restless, not even raising a smile when he calls home to talk to his wife and young son. Instead, he meets up with an ex-girlfriend, an interaction that unsurprisingly ends badly. Everyone he encounters seems the same, until he comes across visiting call centre worker Lisa (voiced by Jennifer Jason Leigh). She looks and sounds different to everyone else. In a sea of blandness, she stands out. As they spend an evening together, Michael realises why: Lisa is an anomaly. Yes, there's some titular trickery at work, though there's much more than that to this perceptive, precisely paced feature. Stylised touches of the classic Kaufman kind — everyone other than Michael and Lisa is stripped of their individuality because they're all voiced by actor Tom Noonan, for example — amplify an atmosphere that's both mundane and surreal. However, what shines brightest is Anomalisa's haunting understanding of the frailties and anxieties that linger inside all of us, whether we're following our usual routines, falling in love when we're not supposed to, witnessing romantic bliss turn sour, or simply stewing over our unhappy place in the world. There's something about animation that, in the right hands, can get to the heart of such existential, universal angst — and that's not just one of Kaufman's specific skills, as the astute and affecting works of Don Hertzfeldt also show. Perhaps it's a product of forcing viewers to emphasise with figures rather than actors. Perhaps it's the act of focusing on emotions over appearances. Perhaps it's the ability to splash even the strangest thoughts and feelings across the screen. Perhaps it's all of the above. Certainly, the vocal work of the mournful Thewlis, radiant Leigh and versatile Noonan deserves ample credit in Anomalisa's case, particularly given its dialogue-heavy nature (a remnant of the material's origins as a play that wasn't initially intended to make the leap to cinema). One of the movie's main pleasures stems from listening to Thewlis and Leigh talk, whether Michael and Lisa are sharing stories about their lives or awkwardly engaging in puppet sex. In fact, their fluid tones help achieve Kaufman's ultimate aim: making the audience forget they're not actually watching real people. There's nothing strained or tiring, or remotely ordinary, about that.
By now, you're hopefully well into the swing of National Margarita Month, with venues all over the city offering drink deals to celebrate the classic tequila tipple. Sure, we may have hit a little five-day bump in the road. Thankfully, Hotel Esplanade is planning to ramp things up post-lockdown and bring the month of margs home with a bang. St Kilda's legendary seaside pub is bringing a little taste of Mexico to our shores with a lineup of Mexican-inspired food, mariachi band performances and, of course, plenty of tasty margaritas. Make tracks to any of the venue's bars between Friday, February 19 and Saturday, February 27 to try a range of margaritas, all made with Herradura tequila. In addition to The Espy's signature Double Barrel Margarita and Mya Tiger's makrut lime version, the bartenders will also be shaking up three fruity twists on the classic: watermelon, yuzu and pineapple. To pair with these tropical concoctions is a selection of tasty bites from chef Ashly Hicks — think coal-grilled corn with smoked paprika sour cream, cauliflower tacos with avocado and jalapeño and al pastor tacos with roast pineapple and coriander salsa. Plus, if you want to check out the mariachi band, they'll be performing between 7–9pm on Friday, February 19 and 5–7pm on Saturday, February 20 and Sunday, February 21. Bookings are recommended during peak times, which you can do via The Espy's website. Images: Alex Drewnik
They're basic: joy, sadness, fear, disgust and anger, that is, the five emotions that swirled inside human heads in Pixar's 2015 hit Inside Out. In nine-years-later follow-up Inside Out 2, that quintet of feelings isn't enough to cope with being a teenager, which is where anxiety, envy, ennui and embarrassment come in. The newcomers arrive with the onset of puberty, literally overnight. They have no time for simple happiness; they've levelled up some of the emotions adjacent to sorrow, fright, dismay and fury, too. Although its now 13-year-old protagonist Riley Andersen (Kensington Tallman, Summer Camp) isn't actively choosing how to manage her feelings because her feelings themselves are doing that for her, Inside Out was always an all-ages ode to mindfulness, as is its sequel — and discovering how to accept and acknowledge apprehension, unease and nerves is here, like in life, a complicated balancing act. In the Inside Out world, feelings are characters, led in Riley's noggin by the radiant Joy — who, with Amy Poehler (Moxie) shining with Leslie Knope-esque positivity in the voice-acting part, is one of Pixar's best-ever cast figures. In an ideal inner world, they all get along. But workplace comedy-style, getting viewers thinking about Parks and Recreation again, that's never the case. Joy, Sadness (Phyllis Smith, Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar), Fear (Tony Hale, Quiz Lady), Disgust (Liza Lapira, The Equalizer) and Anger (Lewis Black, The Last Laugh) have their routine down pat when Inside Out 2 kicks off. They can handle everything from high-stakes hockey games, complete with a stint in the sin bin, through to learning that Riley's best friends Grace (Grace Lu, Fight Krewe) and Bree (debutant Sumayyah Nuriddin-Green) will be going to a different high school. Then their status quo is upended by the Inside Out equivalent of new colleagues storming in. It's true IRL and in this family-friendly animated follow-up to 2016's Best Animated Feature Oscar-winner: when anxiety bubbles up, it pushes to the fore. This Anxiety (Maya Hawke, Stranger Things) has a firm plan for Riley 2.0 — and also Envy (Ayo Edebiri, Bottoms), Ennui (Adèle Exarchopoulos, The Animal Kingdom) and Embarrassment (Paul Walter Hauser, The Afterparty) by her side. Where Joy and the crew had to help their human navigate moving from Minnesota to San Francisco in the first film, Anxiety takes the reins at hockey camp, where impressing the coach (Yvette Nicole Brown, Act Your Age) that she's hoping to play for is just one concern. Facing being a new kid at a new school all alone again, Riley is also eager to befriend team captain Valentina (Lilimar, Batwheels). With Anxiety calling the shots, nothing else, not even old besties, matters. From the moment that the workplace setup clicks in your head — not Riley's, nor her mother (Diane Lane, A Man in Full) and father's (Kyle MacLachlan, Fallout), which the film also briefly dives into — it's impossible not to see how it shapes the franchise's character dynamics. As it told its coming-of-age story, the initial Inside Out used the scenario to provide an effective metaphor for how our emotions can jostle, which Inside Out 2 builds upon with its fresh faces. Pixar pictures have been for adults as much as kids since the debut Toy Story almost three decades ago. Aptly and knowingly, the June Squibb (Thelma)-voiced Nostalgia quickly makes an appearance here. Experienced Pixar storyboard artist and now first-time feature director Kelsey Mann knows the audience, clearly, as do returning screenwriter Meg LeFauve (My Father's Dragon) and new Inside Out scribe Dave Holstein (the creator of TV series Kidding). In telling a tale that acknowledges how calmly recognising one's feelings and thoughts, aka the mindfulness holy grail, is so deeply difficult, they put that dilemma in easy-to-relate terms that everyone that's ever had a job has encountered. At the company's finest, a Pixar flick works on all levels, speaking to reality's version of Riley as a kid, teen and — not that the Inside Out realm has gotten there yet in its narratives, but it no doubt will if more sequels happen — as a grown-up. Accordingly, as much as the job comparison, anxiety's influence and the mindfulness angle age Inside Out 2 up, and smartly and thoughtfully, it's never at the expense of the movie's playfulness or sense of adventure for its youngest viewers. The brain contains multitudes in Pixar's rendering, sending Joy and the OG gang out of headquarters again to trek through personality islands, discarded negative recollections, the parade of future careers, the memory vault and more, all of which break down the complex emotionally intelligent and psychological concepts that underpin the story into fun setpieces. One such inspired move, which is also a perfect encapsulation of how the mind and personalities change in adolescence: the sar-chasm, a ravine that changes the tone of innocuous comments to mockery and widens with each phrase uttered. Several times now including in 2020's Soul, which trades emotions for souls (as well as Poehler for her Saturday Night Live, Baby Mama, Sisters and Wine Country co-star Tina Fey), Pixar has achieved the careful, expertly fine-tuned balance that is grappling with weighty ideas in an accessible way. There's an unsurprising been-there sensation to Inside Out 2, though, as it hits similar beats to Inside Out, just scaled up for a slightly older character. That's art reflecting life, however; the years pass and more emotions spring up, but the chaos continues. And while this new stint with Joy and co immediately follows the also-comparable Elemental in the studio's filmography, the sense that Pixar is repeating itself is no stronger than has long lingered in the company's pictures as its whole "what if X thing had feelings?" scenarios — which everyone well and truly knows has underpinned its narratives since the beginning — have kept receiving a workout. When a movie is this heartfelt and astute in tandem, and when it's made by an outfit known for that winning combination again and again, it plays less like an echo of past glories and more like Pixar embracing what it does best. Inside Out 2's rainbow-hued animation is flawless, and also enchantingly engaging. Although not all of Inside Out's ace cast returned — Bill Hader (Barry) and Mindy Kaling (The Morning Show) are missed as Fear and Disgust — the still Poehler-led ensemble remains stellar guide to the intricacy of dealing with one's emotions. Hawke is especially excellent at conveying the always-on pressure of anxiety. Edebiri and Exarchopoulos nail how it feels to be driven by twinges of longing and listlessness, respectively. There's no need to learn to accept this sequel: its delights are instant.
Hitchcock had Cary Grant. Kurosawa had Toshiro Mifune. Now, in the modern era, Jaume Collet-Serra has Liam Neeson. The duo have worked together on four films to date: Unknown, Non-Stop, Run All Night and now The Commuter. This most recent collaboration features all the familar trademarks: Neeson plays Michael MacCauley, a regular, everyday insurance salesman with a complicated past and a fractious family situation, who suddenly finds himself thrust into a high octane, race-against-the-clock scenario complete with double crosses, mysterious messages and plenty of dead bodies. This time around Neeson finds himself on a train. Beyond that, The Commuter runs disappointingly close to the far superior Non-Stop. Just as it was on that terror-threatened plane, Neeson is again tasked with identifying an important passenger about whom he knows nothing. Non-compliance will result in the sudden and violent deaths of those around him. There's an early appearance by a femme fatale (here, the wildly underused Vera Farmiga), a claustrophobic fight scene and, of course, a comically over-the-top climax. But while Non-Stop managed to keep things relatively fresh, The Commuter just feels tired and increasingly incoherent. Collet-Serra's films are often described as modern day B-movies. Whether that's meant as an insult depends on the critic – but either way, it's hard to argue that they don't fit the label. His films are wild rides that focus more on adrenalin than story; Hitchcockian pastiches that thoroughly entertain but don't always hold up under scrutiny. His best film by far is also his most reserved: The Shallows, starring Blake Lively, was a deliciously tense woman-vs-shark thriller that proved to be one of the most enjoyable (and surprising) hits of last year. By comparison, while the filmmaker's collaborations with Neeson have unquestionably borne excellent fruit, their limitations must also be acknowledged. Neeson is a terrific actor with an extraordinary body of work behind him, yet that same gravitas works against him when playing the everyday Joe roles Collet-Serra continues to give him. He's too intense to pull off folksy charm, whilst workmanlike barroom banter ("another day, another dollar") sounds ridiculous coming out of his mouth. The truth is, while Taken remains something of a gold standard in the annals of contemporary action flicks, attempts to replicate it with the same leading man have largely fallen short. The Commuter offers fine entertainment for a switched off brain, but little more. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WWexI9YiLSc
Every year, Melbourne comes alive for Chinese New Year. While Tuesday, February 5 is officially the first day of the new year, festivities start on Friday, February 1 with some running through to the end of the month — and the schedule for the next few days is packed. Whether it's spent attending a free tai chi class at the art gallery, roaming through a bustling night market or making your way through a five-course Chinese feast, this weekend is a great opportunity to celebrate Melbourne's rich cultural diversity and help ring in the Year of the Pig.
Calling all Amy Poehler fans — the beautiful tropical fish, powerful musk ox and noble land mermaid of Netflix flicks is here. The Saturday Night Live and Parks and Recreation star has directed her first film, a comedy that'll hit the streaming platform in May. Here's hoping it'll earn all of the unusual compliments that Leslie Knope has showered upon Ann Perkins. Turning a vino lover's dream weekend getaway with the gang into a movie, Wine Country follows a group of friends who head to Napa to celebrate Rebecca (Rachel Dratch)'s 50th birthday. Poehler plays Abby, the organiser of the gang; Maya Rudolph co-stars as a worn out mother desperate for a break; and fellow Saturday Night Live on-screen alum Ana Gasteyer, plus ex-SNL writers Paula Pell and Emily Spivey, all round out the besties. Also featuring: Tina Fey (of course) and Jason Schwartzman. If you've had a Parks and Recreation-shaped hole in your life since the acclaimed sitcom ended, adored Sisters or just can't get enough of these funny ladies in general, prepare to chuckle and celebrate as the film shows just what happens when a boozy break, lifelong friends and facing a huge milestone all mix. The first trailer has just dropped, and it comes with plenty of laughs: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aW_0MO-XKog Wine Country releases on Netflix on Friday, May 10. Image: Colleen Hayes.
At this point, Maybe Sammy not appearing on The World's 50 Best Bars' prestigious annual rankings would be a shock. The personality-packed retro cocktail lounge in Sydney's CBD has earned a spot on the coveted list six years in a row. However, while its previous rankings have earned it the laurel of the nation's best bar, that honour has this year been given to a different watering hole — Caretaker's Cottage in Melbourne. The Little Lonsdale Street bar ranked 21st on this year's list, moving up two spots from its 2023 position of 23rd place. It was also awarded the Michter's Art of Hospitality Award — a gong also previously won by Maybe Sammy — which recognises the bar with the most outstanding service in the world. [caption id="attachment_922565" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Caretaker's Cottage[/caption] Maybe Sammy dropped in the rankings this year from 15th to 26th position, breaking its five-year streak as not only Australia's best bar but also Australasia's. One other Australian bar, Byrdi, also earned a spot on the list, in 35th position, breaking into the top 50 for the first time after only making the 100-strong longlist last year, ranking 61st. The judging panel praised Caretaker's Cottage's owners, veteran bartenders Rob Libecans, Ryan Noreiks and Matt Stirling, for not only opening the bar but also working there too. "They don't shout the pedigree of Caretaker's Cottage to the world, preferring to call it a simple, local pub, and in vibe and design it's very much a neighbourhood joint," the judging notes said. [caption id="attachment_743915" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Maybe Sammy, Trent van der Jagt[/caption] The judging panel said Maybe Sammy "has remained [Sydney's] most talked-about bar since it opened in early 2019, lighting up a dreary stretch of street in Sydney's sandstone district, The Rocks," also spotlighting the bar's signature combination of "theatrics and attentive, fun service". Byrdi was praised for its hyper-local focus, with the judging panel noting that the La Trobe Street venue "might very well be the most Australian bar in existence". The judges also highlighted the bar's technical prowess: "There is foraging and fermenting and vacuum distilling – and the drinks are high-concept creations. As for the service, there is a loquaciousness here, a laid back, casual sensibility that, despite all the hard work, experience and knowledge, is determined to show their guests a good time." [caption id="attachment_921792" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Byrdi, Haydn Cattach[/caption] The bar crowned the world's best, announced at a ceremony in Madrid on Tuesday, October 22, was Mexico City's Handshake Speakeasy, with the judges hailing the subtle complexity of the menu: "At first glance, the drinks list is minimalist, but given that head bartender Eric Van Beek uses advanced culinary techniques in prep, each drink is more complex than meets the eye." To see the full list of this year's rankings, head to The World's 50 Best Bars website.
UPDATE, November 02, 2020: Your Name is available to stream via Netflix, Google Play, YouTube Movies, iTunes and Prime Video. Most mornings, when her younger sister comes to wake her up, Mitsuha (voiced by Mone Kamishiraishi) is fondling her own chest. It becomes an ongoing joke between the siblings, but there's more than awkward teenage self-exploration at play. Most mornings, you see, her body is actually inhabited by someone else. Mitsuha is a high school student from the quiet town of Itomori, and when she asks the universe for a more exciting life, that's actually what she gets. Swapping bodies with the city-dwelling Taki (Ryunosuke Kamiki), she's soon working his shifts in an Italian restaurant, while he's fumbling through her classes and forgetting to make breakfast. It's a premise straight out of a body-swap movie — think Freaky Friday, Dating the Enemy and The Change-Up, to name a few. Mitsuha and Taki change bodies on alternating days, but they can't remember each other's names. To navigate the chaos of suddenly becoming someone else, they communicate via notes left in their phones, gradually settling into a routine. Alas, just as they start to feel comfortable switching into each other's skin, learning from their escapades and forming a growing connection, fate once again intervenes. In his fifth feature Makoto Shinkai (The Garden of Words, Children Who Chase Lost Voices) dives head-first into the offbeat yet insightful adventure that comes with literally putting his protagonists in someone else's place. However, taking inspiration from the traditional Japanese tale Torikaebaya Monogatari, Your Name proves more than just a quirky comedy. Starting with a meteor shower accompanied by narration about "that day when the stars came falling, like a dream…a shared dream," Shinkai flirts with everything from star-crossed romance to impending disaster, as well as notions of identity, gender, the ever-changing reality of life, and the difficulty of reconciling many everyday contrasts. It's telling that Shinkai highlights the dream-like nature of the material from the outset. An ethereal air infiltrates each scene, while the gorgeous, glistening animation makes every moment feel both hyper-realistic and like a fond memory. Indeed, the script's numerous charms are matched by endless visual delights. Full of montages and catchy pop songs, the film plays out in a recognisable world – particularly for anyone who has ever visited Tokyo. Yet it feels just as magical as it would were Mitsuha and Taki being spirited away to another realm. That's one of the reasons that the M word keeps being thrown around: 'Miyazaki', that is. Thanks to the film's phenomenal popularity in Japan, Shinkai has been dubbed the spiritual successor to the Studio Ghibli great — and while that's high praise, it also fails to capture just what makes the film such a treat. Part teen rom-com, part sci-fi contemplation of weighty concepts, the anarchy and confusion of life has rarely felt so vivid, honest or enchanting.
In A Wrinkle in Time, a giant-sized Oprah towers over the world like a goddess, arching her bejewelled eyebrows, wearing glittering outfits and dispensing advice. Mindy Kaling offers wisdom in quote form, cribbing as much from age-old sages as current popular culture. Meanwhile, Reese Witherspoon is full of goofiness and good cheer — when she's not turning into a flying lettuce leaf. With names like Mrs. Which, Mrs. Who and Mrs. Whatsit, the three actresses play magical beings intent on helping 13-year-old Meg Murry (Storm Reid) find her missing astrophysicist father (Chris Pine). They're also pivotal to this fantastical film. Make no mistake: A Wrinkle in Time is Meg's movie. Based on the 1962 novel of the same name, it's the story of a girl who's not only uncertain in her own skin, but is uncertain about her place in the world since her dad disappeared. When the three Mrs arrive in her life — claiming to know where her father is and eager to spirit her away to a parallel dimension — Meg is instantly wary, even when her super-smart younger brother (Deric McCabe) tries to quell her fears. Meg has other things on her mind as well: she's being bullied by the girl next door (Rowan Blanchard), particularly about her hair, and she's not quite sure why her cute classmate (Levi Miller) suddenly wants to be her friend. Still, she's intrigued by her new celestial pals (as odd and otherworldly as they clearly seem), largely because they're also so sincere and genuine. That's the kind of film that Meg and the Mrs are in, after all: earnest from start to finish, and unashamed to wear its heart on its sleeves and every other piece of multi-coloured clothing in sight. It's the type of movie that really isn't made all that often these days — a movie that owns its brand of sentimental optimism, doesn't try to be anything else, and doesn't really try to appeal to adults either. While A Wrinkle in Time has garnered significant attention thanks to its high-profile stars, it's ultimately an upbeat and affectionate kids' sci-fi/adventure flick through and through. Filled with child-friendly messages about believing in yourself and your intelligence, choosing hope over darkness, and trusting that good will prevail over evil, the film is basically an Oprah-style empowerment lesson for everyone under the age of 15. Pre-teen and teenage girls will be wrinkling their faces with happiness. For those familiar with the book, this shouldn't come as a shock. The source material has been considered unfilmable for decades, with the only other attempt coming courtesy of a 2003 TV movie. Given that the episodic narrative toys with time travel, hops between wondrous planets, and tasks Meg with evading a tentacled monster, it shouldn't surprise anyone who hasn't read the novel either. That said, A Wrinkle in Time proves a nice throwback to the live-action family fare that Disney used to pump out in the '60s, '70s and '80s, including on television. Indeed, even if you're not in the obvious target market, the fact that the movie is so committed to its old-school, old-fashioned vibe is admirable. Jumping from powerful civil rights drama Selma and race-relations documentary 13th to something completely different, director Ava DuVernay hits the mark in more places than just the film's all-ages vibe. She gets the best out of her diverse cast, especially the younger players, with Reid a picture of relatable, youthful awkwardness, and Aussie actor Miller (Jasper Jones, Better Watch Out) continuing his great run of late. From the bright costumes to the overall explosion of special effects, DuVernay also ensures that everything looks and feels like a larger-than-life fantasy in every frame. Her quest to make a big-thinking, big-hearted kids' flick is always apparent, but like A Wrinkle in Time's gossiping flowers — yes, there's a field of flowers that literally gossip — the movie's beauty and its limitations go hand-in-hand. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pwlZ1r-BiQA
