Electronic whiz kids don't come more stylin' than Sydney's multitalented Caitlin Park. With her 2011 debut album Milk Annual applauded Australia-wide and the 2012 Qantas Spirit Of The Youth Award under her belt, Park inked a deal with Create/Control in February this year (home to fellow Aussies Oliver Tank, Feelings, Go Violets and internationals Parquet Courts and Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros). Marking the team-up with the release of her second album The Sleeper, the smoky-voiced Sydneysider will bring her brand new tunes to Bella Union on Friday, August 1. Disarmingly catchy singles like 'Lemonade' are sure to get table-sitters up and toe-tappin'. (She's releasing a just-announced EP of instrumental tracks and spoken word on July 11, so she's a busy lady.) Park toured recently to promote the album's first single, 'Hold Your Gaze', but we're certainly not objecting to more of her brand of dreamy folktronic. Park has been cranking tunes aroundaboutown of late, dominating East Coast stages as well as the UK's Great Escape, New York's CMJ conference and support slots for Butterfly Boucher. Headlining her own tour aptly dubbed 'The Sleeper Tour', Park is proud to present her super slick electro-meets-acoustic album to Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane crowds. The Sleeper is a sharpening of everything her first album, Milk Annual, was about — slick production, soothing sounds and deep vocals that make me wish I could use the word husky without feeling like a creep. Listen out for 'Lemonade', the album's second single. The video is a woozy, aesthetically and sonically-pleasing journey through the main character's gender identity that should appeal to anyone who appreciates good-looking people in technicolour garb dancing in slow motion (that's everyone, surely?). "I am so proud and excited about this release!" said Park. "It's louder, more rhythmic, more energetic and more complex than anything I have written before. It was made in a quiet place, so I felt like we had to fill the space. It was made with love and light and darkness. I can't wait for people to hear it." Words by Jessica Surman and Shannon Connellan. https://youtube.com/watch?v=AS1htl7smnk
In Locke, the improbable proves possible — and in more ways than one. The second film from director Steven Knight (best known as the screenwriter of Dirty Pretty Things, Eastern Promises and The Hundred-Foot Journey) takes the simple and routine and turns it into the complex and compelling. Never before has a one-man effort, set solely in a car, structured around a series of phone calls and ostensibly concerning the machinations of the largest concrete pour in history become so engaging and immersive. As the titular figure and only on-screen presence, Ivan Locke (Tom Hardy) is the lynchpin in the spoken drama. He leaves work one evening, but rather than head for a home that boasts a wife (Ruth Wilson) and two sons (Tom Holland and Bill Miner) waiting to watch a soccer match with him, or even for a good night's rest before the important day that awaits, the building site foreman drives away from his usual responsibilities. Conversations crystalise the details, sentiments escalating as he informs all those relying upon his dependable nature of the departure from his duties as an employee, husband and father. Increasingly upset altercations with a co-worker (Olivia Colman) in hospital are revelatory, as Locke faces the repercussions of an ill-thought-out act from his past. Of course, the central conceit of a single protagonist within a lone location is far from new; however, Knight does more than merely follow a formula. Avoiding easy comparisons with the likes of classics Lifeboat, Rope and Rear Window and recent thrillers Cube, Phone Booth and Buried, the filmmaker explores a situation marked by its modesty rather than its gimmick. The stakes are far from life and death, the crux of the story is akin to those seen in a soap opera, but tension radiates from the mundane and relatable. What results is the juxtaposition of several layers of confinement: physically, in a car careening towards London; emotionally, amid the reactions of all immersed in the mess; morally, in doing the right thing in the wrong circumstances Accordingly, Locke succeeds via the astute intersection of terse scripting, inventive filming and an exceptional performance. Knight's war of words never falls victim to complacency, every exchange adding to the pile of punishing problems and pulsating pressure. Cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos's (Thor) slick gaze offers a shiny veneer peppered with imperfections, creating imagery that matches the film's thematic thrust. But it is Hardy, Welsh-accented and stone-faced, that makes the scenario leap from the screen as he simmers under the strain of his character's choices. The feature's greatest achievement may stem from eliciting interest from its story, style and structure; however, it is its lead that sears its exploration of the inescapable inexplicably into memory. https://youtube.com/watch?v=HxLPXMEYGeI
This article is sponsored by our partners, Rekorderlig. The words 'Full Moon Party' might usually bring to mind sandy, sunburnt backpackers in their tens of thousands lost in a cocktail-bucket-fuelled dance frenzy on some remote Thai island, but Thredbo's reclaiming their wintry potential on Australian soil. On three separate occasions this ski season, the Thredbo Alpine Hotel's Keller Bar is being transformed into a black-lit, werewolf-ridden dance cave, where you're pretty much invisible unless you've donned your white or fluorescent best. Just in case you're the forgetful type, you'll be presented with face paint and glow sticks as you walk through the door — free of charge (as is entry). For a beautifully Swedish start your night, arrive at the firepit-lined courtyard nice and early. The tunes start at 3pm and the Rekorderlig Hot Pool will be steaming (bonus: delicious mulled Winter Cider will be steaming too). The first part in the three-act series took part on July 12, with sets from SOSUEME DJs and Purple Sneakers, but the good news is, you've still two more opportunities to get in on the action. On August 10, you'll catch the Crooked Colour DJs, who were recently shortlisted in the Stoney Roads Producer of the Year Awards, and the I Oh You DJs. Then, on September 9, you'll be hearing from The L D R U, fresh from their crowd-wowing Splendour appearance, and Leah Mencel, 2012 winner of EMI's She Can DJ Comp.
MTC's latest work, The Sublime is an exploration of sport, sex, violence and the media from award-winning screenwriter and actor Brendan Cowell. The performance will consist of three interwoven monologues of an NRL player, a brother who has defected to AFL, and a teenage girl. Each character will tell their sides of the story, and in doing so all have the opportunity to be seen as human beings, and even victims, underneath their athletic persona. When questionable events arise from a footy trip to Thailand between the NRL star Liam and young athlete Amber, older brother Dean desperately tries to clean up the mess. They are the only three who knows what actually happened, and the story is not as straightforward as what most sports news headlines often suggest. Cowell's play will also explore the clashes between NRL and AFL, and the ongoing rivalry between Melbourne and Sydney with actors Josh McConville, Ben O’Toole and Anna Samson bringing the gripping and fiery story to life.
Old-growth forests in Victoria's Yarra Valley provide the breathtaking backdrop for an impressive new arthouse drama. The debut feature from award winning short form and music video director Kasimir Burgess, the fable-like Fell tells the interlocking stories of two devoted Australian fathers whose lives are rocked by unexpected tragedy. Clumsy plot mechanics as well as some freshman affectations count as marks against the movie early on. But Burgess hits his stride in the picture's magnificent second half, delivering a tense and thoughtful look at guilt, obsession and revenge. Fell begins after a young girl on a camping trip wanders fatally into the path of a semitrailer. The driver, a day-labouring lumberjack named Luke (Daniel Henshall), succumbs to panic and flees the scene, a mistake that eventually earns him a five year stint in prison and leaves his own unborn daughter Madeline without a dad. Meanwhile, the dead girl's father Thomas (ex-rugby league player Matthew Nable) retreats into the forest, where his all-consuming grief slowly festers into a plan for revenge. Emerging under an alias, he takes a job with Luke's old logging crew. And then, for five long years, he waits. As much as there is to like about Fell, the set-up leaves a lot to be desired. Nable's performance is brimming with palpable anguish, yet you can't help but feel as though there are a couple of major steps missing in his descent into cabin-dwelling seclusion. Natasha Pincus' screenplay is intentionally light on dialogue, and does little to sell such an extreme transformation. The same is true of Thomas' decision to join up with the loggers, a fairly integral plot point that never really manages to convince. But the movie improves dramatically with Luke's release from prison. After convincing his old boss to let him have his job back, Luke finds himself working closely with Thomas, of whose true identity he remains totally unaware. There's an incredible tension to every scene in which the two are alone together, with the sense that every breath Luke takes could very well be his last. Yet as Thomas becomes an increasingly bigger part of Luke's life, he's forced to confront the reality of what taking the man's life would mean. The ambiguous atmosphere is heightened by the beautiful locale. Lush green foliage and thick clouds of mist give the film an almost dreamlike quality which is then further enhanced by moments of imagined violence. An indulgence in empty nature shots suggests that Burgess, like a lot of first-time directors, is a little too enamoured with the work of Terrence Malick. Even so, it's hard to deny the extent of talent on display.
With winter making its chilly, soul-destroying presence well known this year, it's a relief that the Melbourne Writers Festival is nearly upon us. Giving us all a viable and damn near social opportunity to rug up with a good book, this bastion of our city's cultural calendar is about to stroll on into our jumper-clad, tea-loving lives and make things a whole lot brighter. This year they're bringing the big guns too. The 2014 headliners include Helen Garner, Salman freakin' Rushdie, Dave Eggers, and a David Bowie-singing astronaut. There's hands-on experience being offered from Lonely Planet's Don George and The New Yorker's Emily Nussbaum. Even politicians are getting involved; you can offset your nights of heavy boozing with some highly intellectual discussions from Bob Brown, Malcolm Fraser and Bob Carr (provided you're feeling up for it). Of course, it doesn't matter if you're not a writer yourself. These kinds of festivals are just spaces for ideas. Rub shoulders with the nation's best thinkers, jot down some newfound inspiration, and float around the many city venues fuelled by curiousity and an unwavering stream of quality caffeine. Get ready for some literature, politics and gin, people. This one's going to be a doozy. The Melbourne Writers Festival is on August 21-31. Tickets are on sale via the festival website, though many events are free. For more, check out our full MWF run-down including our picks of the top ten events.
After two bumper years and three singles, Melbourne foursome Kingswood decided to go all out when it came to their debut full-length album, Microscopic Wars. So they made an appointment at Blackbird Studios with Grammy-winning producer Vance Powell (The Raconteurs) and jumped on a plane to the US. Before heading into the studio, they spent three months living and working together in Nashville; then spent the rest recording whatever they damn well felt like on the day. With the album set for release on August 22 via Dew Process, single 'Sucker Punch' has already been attracting many a rock-loving ear — and tickets for Kingswood's national tour (running August 20 to October 24) are selling like hotcakes as a result. Their sizeable Aussie following has been built up through an array of festival appearances and support slots — Splendour in the Grass billed them on the main amphitheatre stage and they've toured with the likes of The Living End, British India and The Saints. https://youtube.com/watch?v=lHjnOlQQ49U
From that hotbed of contentious global politics comes the latest national film festival on the Australian cultural calendar. Hosted in various Palace Cinema locations around the country, the AICE Israeli Film Festival aims to showcase the best of the Israeli film industry, with more than a dozen features and documentaries to choose from. An initiative of the Australia Israel Cultural Exchange, the festival was the subject of controversy last year after abruptly cancelling screenings of a film that depicted Israeli brutality in the West Bank. The 2014 line-up contains several pictures that explore Israeli-Palestinian relations, including the critically acclaimed opening night film Self Made and the Israeli-Palestine-US co-production Under the Same Sun. Other highlights on the program include moving doco Shadow in Baghdad and a pair Cannes selected dramas in Next to Her and The Kindergarten Teacher. The festival is also hosting early previews of upcoming American films by noteworthy Jewish directors, in the form of Woody Allen's Magic in the Moonlight and Zach Braff's Wish I Was Here. For the full AICE Israeli Film Festival program, visit the festival website. Image: Next to Her.
Audrey Hepburn. Federico Fellini. Woody Allen. Names and faces synonymous with film history, they'll now be the subject of a series of free Sunday night screenings at the National Gallery of Victoria, presented by academics from the University of Melbourne. The six-week program includes a combination of classic and contemporary films designed to tie in with the NGV's Italian Masterpieces season, on display until the end of August. Split into two parts, the series begins with images of the region as shot by foreigners, starting with William Wyler's Roman Holiday followed by a pair of Woody Allen films in To Rome with Love and Vicki Christina Barcelona. Then in mid August, Federico Fellini's La Dolce Vita will kick off a trio of critically acclaimed Italian films. Fellini will be followed by Giuseppe Tornatore's love letter to cinema in Cinema Paradiso, before the series concludes with the most recent winner of the Best Foreign Language Oscar, Paolo Sorrentino's The Great Beauty. https://youtube.com/watch?v=fJfvX6zPAuQ
After taking home awards at the Edinburgh and Adelaide Fringe Festivals, Cat Jones' relentless play Glory Dazed, about the long-term psychological effects of warfare, will enjoy a month-long engagement at the Red Stitch Actors Theatre. Fuelled by a series of interviews the playwright conducted with former British servicemen now serving time in person, the show combines harrowing drama with moments of acerbic black comedy, following an unstable veteran — played here Andre de Vanny — as he forces his way into a pub in an attempt to win back his ex-wife. The Red Stitch production is directed by company regular Greg Carroll, and represents the theatre's second consecutive show to explore the theme of post-war trauma, after George Brant's Grounded scored rave reviews last month. Early impressions suggest the reaction to Jones's work may be similarly strong.
At the risk of pointing out the perpetually obvious, Australians love their sport. We love our rugby, AFL, tennis, cricket... basically anything that involves sweating profusely and chasing after something. We're a sporting nayshun and it's an important part of our national identity whether we like it or not. With so many poetic, victorious moments in sporting activity, there's plenty of opportunity for artful glorification. Celebrating these fleeting snapshots is an exhibition for those craving to see Australia's sports culture celebrated in art. The biennial Basil Sellers Art Prize honours the presence of sport in contemporary Australian art and is regarded as one of Australia's most prestigious art competitions. This year, the winner will receive a whopping $100,00 prize for their work — and the shortlisted pieces are looking pretty strong. Artists up for the top prize include some of Australia's most celebrated talent: Tony Albert, Narelle Autio, Zoe Croggon, Gabrielle de Vietri, Ivan Durrant, Shaun Gladwell, Richard Lewer, William Mackinnon, Rob McHaffie, Noel McKenna, Rob McLeish, Fiona McMonagle, Raquel Ormella, Khaled Sabsabi, Jenny Watson and Gerry Wedd. There's also a People's Choice award of $5000, so you can make your visit really count by having a cheeky vote. To check out the competition before the winner is announced on July 25, head to The Ian Potter Museum of Art at the University of Melbourne ASAP. Otherwise the exhibition is open until October to peruse in your own bench time.
If you haven't dined on traditional Russian fare (and would like to), head to Elsternwick stat. Although Melbourne may have its fair share of European cuisine, good, authentic Russian food is hard to come by; except for Nevsky Russian Restaurant on busy Glen Huntly Road, that is. Named after the main boulevard in St Petersberg, Nevsky is unassuming, with exposed brick walls, simple timber furnishing and a chandelier that is out of place, yes, but somehow adds to the charm of this place. But boy, does it serve up some tasty, traditional and home-style Russian and Eastern European cooking. If in a large group, there's plenty of Russian banquets to choose from, all of which come with a free shot of vodka. Sample red caviar with blinis, king prawns and oysters; beetroot salad with herring; cabbage piroshki; and veal and mushroom stroganoff. Otherwise opt for the a la carte menu, featuring seliodka (marinated herring fillets) with potatoes ($8); Georgian kharcho soup of spicy lamb, tomato, rice and coriander (half serve $6; full serve $10); and heartier meals of ragu ($27), oven roasted pork loin with red cabbage, potatoes and red wine sauce ($28) and Polish sosiski (kranksy sausages) on mashed potato with caramelised onions and port wine sauce ($24). Plus, there's a whole load of dumplings and deep fried pastries, if you're after a snack. Drinkwise, the name of the game here is vodka, naturally. However, there's a small selection of beers, wines and cocktails (all vodka-based) available also.
Cue giggles galore when the Melbourne International Comedy Festival descends on the city from Wednesday, March 29–Sunday, April 23, dishing up more than 600 shows for its 2023 instalment. Big-ticket program highlights include the national grand final of esteemed open mic competition RAW Comedy; Upfront's one-night showcase of stereotype-smashing female and non-binary comics; and the Deadly Funny National Grand Final, which spotlights the country's funniest First Nations talent. As always, MICF will see comedic heroes flying in from all corners of the globe, taking the stage for sidesplitting solo shows and special events alike. Among them are celebrated British stars like Paul Foot, Carl Donnelly and Rosie Jones, plus Irish funnymen David O'Doherty and Dylan Moran, Emmy Award-winning US artist Sara Schaefer and Icelandic icon Ari Edljárn. Homegrown heroes pack out the program, with big-name guests aplenty — Tripod, Claire Hooper, Lawrence Mooney, Kirsty Webeck, Wil Anderson, Alex Ward and Rhys Nicholson are all there, along with the likes of Lano & Woodley, Osher Günsberg doing Night Time News Network National News, Dave Thornton, Diana Nguyen and stacks more. The rising stars of Aussie comedy will also get a huge look-in. Check out the next generation of comic geniuses with a show at Comedy Zone, or stick closer to home and get your comedy kicks at one of the famed Neighbourhood Sessions. Meanwhile, Best of Comedy Zone Asia will deliver a lineup of emerging and celebrated talent from across Malaysia, India, Singapore and more. And, Headliners is set to dish up a hilarious taste of the US comedy circuit, featuring The Lucas Brothers, Patti Harrison, Sheng Wang and Shalewa Sharpe. [caption id="attachment_806196" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Jim Lee[/caption] Top image: Jim Lee.
More than most games, Dungeons & Dragons thrives or dies based on the people rolling the dice, creating their own characters and casting spells. Whether Stranger Things' demogorgon-slaying teens are hunched over a table imagining up their fantasy dreams, or flesh-and-blood folks who aren't just part of a TV series find themselves pretending that they're fighters and clerics, an adventure or campaign is only as good as the party at its core. Writer/directors Jonathan Goldstein and John Francis Daley understand this. The latter definitely should: the one-season TV great Freaks and Geeks, which gave him his start as an actor when he was just a kid, threw D&D some love, too. As filmmakers, Goldstein and Daley jump from Game Night to Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves with a clear mission: making the swords-and-sorcery flick's cast its biggest strength. This game-to-screen flick sports a stacked roster, starting with Chris Pine (Don't Worry Darling) as Edgin Darvis, a bard and former member of the Harpers who turned petty thief — complete with a Robin Hood-esque attitude — after his wife passed away. Since his daughter Kira (Chloe Coleman, Avatar: The Way of Water) was a baby, he's been co-parenting with his gruff best friend Holga Kilgore, a stoic exiled barbarian, who is played with exactly the stern look that Michelle Rodriguez (Fast & Furious 9) was always going to bring to the part. When Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves opens, however, Edgin and Holga have been in prison for almost two years thanks to a job gone wrong. Brought out of their dank dungeon to plead for their release, Edgin and Holga are determined to get free by any means necessary. And, once they're out, they're equally as committed to reuniting their makeshift family. Yes, a dungeon is indeed sighted within seconds of the film starting. Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves doesn't skimp on dragons when it's their turn to arrive, either. But there's more cast members to bring into the fray — and, handily, Edgin and Holga had a whole gang back in their escapade-heavy days. Rogue and con artist Forge Fitzwilliam (Hugh Grant, Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre) was one such party member. Simon Aumar (Justice Smith, Sharper), a sorcerer with hefty confidence issues, was another. These days, Forge has turned nefarious, seized guardianship of Kira, become Lord of Neverwinter, and gotten far too friendly with the fierce, fearsome and necromancy-loving Red Wizard of Thay Sofina (Daisy Head, Wrong Turn). Simon is still trying his magical luck, which is quickly needed, alongside help from tiefling druid Doric (Sophie Lillis, IT and IT: Chapter Two) and paladin Xenk Yendar (Regé-Jean Page, The Gray Man). As Dungeon Masters — co-scripting with Michael Gilio (Jolene), and working with a story by him and The Lego Batman Movie's Chris McKay — Goldstein and Daley thrust their various figures together, then shape a story around them. So, it's all classic D&D, just on-screen with copious amounts of special effects (some overdone in the usual CGI-dripping fantasy blockbuster fashion, some pleasingly looking more tangible, such as reanimated corpses voiced by Aunty Donna Down Under) rather than sitting around a board. Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves' tale couldn't be more straightforward, or fittingly episodic — with actions to complete, skills called upon and combat unleashed. There's no 20-sided die, but there is said bard and barbarian, and the sorcerer, druid and paladin with them, battling a rogue and wizard. And, straight out of the Monster Manual, owlbears, displacer beasts, red dragons and gelatinous cubes all make an appearance. Whether they first had everyone moving miniatures or mashing buttons, games are having a heap of big- and small-screen moments in 2023. The Last of Us is one of the year's very best new TV shows, a film about getting Tetris out of Russia and to the masses makes for a tense and entertaining streaming thriller, and The Super Mario Bros Movie gives the Nintendo favourite the animated treatment. A question lingers over all of them, though, and for fans and newcomers alike: would it be more engaging, and more fun, just to play? Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves answers by giving the act of watching the feel of playing regardless of whether you're a level zero or level 20 with its mythology — in its light, jovial and energetic tone, with the film taking itself earnestly but never grimly seriously; and in no small part thanks to its array of faces. Stranger Things has been helping broaden D&D's influence for nearing a decade now, but everything from E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, Futurama and Community to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The IT Crowd and Gravity Falls have nodded its way, too — and Goldstein and Daley also understand this. Their take on the game is welcomely accessible, while appropriately loving and still packed with nudges and references. That said, it's also padded and repetitive the more that it goes goes on. And Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves does go on, clocking in at 134 minutes. Some lengthy films make the time fly by — see: John Wick: Chapter 4, which could've lasted forever — but this one doesn't quite realise when a good time becomes an overly formulaic one. The fights and confrontations, the quips and character beats, the beasts and underground cells: after a while, a fantasy-101 feeling sinks in, especially in these days of ample worshipping thrown Game of Thrones, Lord of the Rings, The Witcher and company's ways. Mostly, Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves is enough of a romp — a romp with clear franchise-starting ambitions, even though there's already been three D&D movies dating back to 2000, but a romp nonetheless. Take out Pine and his on-screen pals, though, and it would've been all over the map. His charm is breezy, and his rapport with Rodriguez gives the film a likeable chalk-and-cheese duo. Page is as smooth as ever — yes, Bridgerton-level smooth — and Grant is visibly having a blast of a time getting villainous Paddington 2-style. Head, daughter of Buffy and Ted Lasso's Anthony Stewart Head, frequently shows up the pixel wizardry with just her glare and makeup. Yes, Dungeons & Dragons is all about the folks playing both on- and off-screen, and Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves' bunch makes viewers want to play along with them.
In the bar and nightlife world, clocking up a huge 17 years of life slinging beers, tunes and good times is no mean feat. So it's only fitting that shipping container haunt Section 8 celebrates that big milestone this week with some super-sized festivities. The beloved laneway bar is going all out and throwing a huge three-day birthday fiesta, kicking off this Friday, March 17. It's set to be a truly Melbourne affair, complete with a jam-packed program of tunes from more than 15 artists, hailing from near and far. A diverse array of sounds comes courtesy of acts like French producer GUTS, Melbourne-based Tokyo-born star Elle Shimada, and Afrocentric DJ and radio host NayNay, along with the likes of Mothafunk, Plastiq, Pookie, Crybaby, Shelley and more. And there'll be moves aplenty, too, with dance performances from Senuri & Romaine, and Ate Cheska. Rounding out the fun and keeping you fuelled for all that dance floor action, the bar will be pouring a stack of birthday drink specials from favourites like Beefeater, Jameson and Melbourne's own Hop Nation. The tunes will be rolling right through the weekend and entry will be free, so drop by any time. Images: Leilani Bale
One of South Melbourne's iconic food celebrations is back for a lip-smacking weekend of music and molluscs, as the Port Phillip Mussel & Jazz Festival returns to the South Melbourne Market from Saturday, March 11–Sunday, March 12. Once again, the precinct will come alive for a food-focused, tune-filled street party from 11am each day, with the humble mussel as star of the show. Seafood lovers will find themselves in heaven, feasting their way through a host of special dishes from resident vendors including Bambu, Claypots Evening Star, Simply Spanish, Gem Pier Seafood and (of course) Mike's Mussels. Plus, catch all the usual market favourites slinging everything from pastries and porchetta rolls to fine cheese and gelato. What's more, casual eatery Smithburg will also be debuting its new streetside Lobster Roll & Margarita Shack, where you'll find three different margs and a trio of signature lobster rolls on offer. The market has once again teamed up with The Nature Conservancy to deliver the Shuck Don't Chuck recycling program — leftover mussel, oyster and scallop shells from the weekend's feasting will be collected, cured and reused to help rebuild marine ecosystems in the bay. As always, there'll also be plenty of fresh catches when it comes to the entertainment — enjoy soul and jazz tunes from acts like The Sugarfoot Ramblers, Margie Lou Dyer, The Swinging Cats Pyjamas, Hoodoo Mayhem and Steve Sedergreen. Top image: Simon Shiff.
For one night this March, an iconic movie will serve up a glorious blast from the past in a whole new way. That's what Not-So-Silent Cinema is all about. A collaboration between ACMI and Federation Square — and screening at the latter, too — this outdoor event showcases iconic silent films for free under the stars, complete playing with live soundtracks. And it's back for the Labour Day long weekend. Silent cinema didn't mean ditching all sound completely a century back, after all, and it definitely doesn't now. So, while you sit in a deckchair and peer at Fed Square's big screen on Sunday, March 12 from 7.30pm, you'll be listening to something ace as you watch. The film in the spotlight: Indian silent film Muraliwala from 1927, with Hari Sivanesan and the South Asian Music Ensemble providing the tunes. Sure, you've seen plenty of movies, and spent plenty of time in Fed Square — but this free evening is far more than your usual trip to the pictures. Images: Tobias Tltz.
They don't call it movie magic for nothing, as plenty of Hollywood's leading lights have made it their mission to stress. A filmmaker's work should ideally make that statement anyway — seeing any picture and taking any trip to the pictures should, not that either always occurs — but overt odes to cinema still flicker with frequency. Across little more than 12 months, Kenneth Branagh's Belfast has featured a scene where his on-screen childhood alter ego basks in the silver screen's glow, and Damien Chazelle's Babylon made celebrating Hollywood and everything behind it one of its main functions. With The Fabelmans, Steven Spielberg revisited his formative years, following the makings of a movie-obsessed kid who'd become a movie-making titan. Now 1917, Skyfall, Spectre and American Beauty director Sam Mendes adds his own take with Empire of Light, as also steeped in his own youth. A teenager in the 70s and 80s, Mendes now jumps back to 1980 and 1981. His physical destination: the coastal town of Margate in Kent, where the Dreamland Cinema has stood for exactly 100 years in 2023. In Empire of Light, the gorgeous art deco structure has been rechristened The Empire. It's a place where celluloid dreams such as The Blues Brothers, Stir Crazy, Raging Bull and Being There entertain the masses, and where a small staff under the overbearing Donald Ellis (Colin Firth, Operation Mincemeat) all have different relationships with their own hopes and wishes. As projectionist Norman, Toby Jones (The Wonder) is Mendes' mouthpiece, waxing lyrical about the transporting effect of images running at 24 frames per second and treasuring his work sharing that experience. Empire of Light is that heavy handed, and in a multitude of ways. But duty manager Hilary (Olivia Colman, Heartstopper) and new employee Stephen's (Micheal Ward, Small Axe) stories are thankfully far more complicated than simply adoring cinema. Actually, despite spending her days slinging £1.50 tickets and popcorn, Hilary has never seen a movie at The Empire. That might seem unlikely, but it's a crucial and thoughtful character detail. Navigating a journey with her mental health, her conscientiousness at work helps her to keep busy away from her lonely apartment. Having spent a lifetime thinking little of herself, she doesn't for a moment contemplate enjoying what her workplace sells (the fact that it's where she's being taken advantage of sexually by Donald also leeches joy from her view of the place). Accordingly, she has a stronger affinity for the venue's empty third and fourth screens, both of which have been shuttered — plus the upstairs bar that services them — and allowed to fall into pigeon-filled disrepair. When Empire of Light begins, Hilary has recently returned from a hospital stint, too, and the lithium her doctor has prescribed since is stifling. Watching someone go through the motions in a place that's all about motion, possibility, and shiny visions of other lives and realms paints a powerful portrait, with Mendes — who writes his first-ever solo feature script in addition to directing — crafting a keen character study layered with symbolism. Welcomely, when Stephen arrives to break up The Empire's routine, he's never merely a catalyst in another's tale or an emblem of Britain's struggles with race. Empire of Light takes the time to chart his path as well, including the discrimination he faces walking down the street; his devotion to his single mum, Trinidadian nurse Delia (Tanya Moodie, The Man Who Fell to Earth); and his growing romance with Hilary. Stephen's story is a coming-of-age story, all about finding himself in and through a space where audiences flock to find everything imaginable. So too is Hilary's, of course. That said, it's easy to see how Stephen could've just been a device, helping to keep the plot turning and Hilary's tale progressing, if someone other than Ward had taken on the part. His is a rich, sincere and soulful performance, playing a young Black man with the clearest of eyes as he surveys a hostile Thatcher-era England, yet remaining kind and caring — to people and injured birds alike — and perennially optimistic. Holding one's own against Colman is no mean feat; this film's own light largely beams from the pair. Whether they're sharing a frame or taking centre stage alone, they're always a key force drawing viewers in, no matter how forceful Mendes is with his cinema-conquers-all message (and how adamantly the score by Bones and All's Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross is telling the audience what to feel). What a stunning portrayal Colman delivers beside Ward; Hilary was written specifically for her, unsurprisingly, and plays that way at all times. Saying that the Oscar- and Emmy-winner — for The Favourite and The Crown, respectively — is phenomenal in any role is like saying that popcorn is salty, but it doesn't make it any less true (as her recent work in Landscapers, The Lost Daughter and The Father also demonstrates). Deep-seated sorrow and heartbreak lingers in Hilary in Empire of Light, and not just because the screenplay says it must. The talented actor is a marvel at not only opening up a character's inner tussles and emotions in her gaze and stance, but making them feel hauntingly real, which Mendes makes exceptional use of. It's no wonder that the movie peers at her face often — a face that makes its own case for movie magic whether it's staring intently at Hilary's latest cinema task, revelling in Stephen's company or breaking down at The Empire's big moment: the glitzy regional premiere of Chariots of Fire. Alongside Colman and Ward, the man responsible for Empire of Light's gaze — and lighting it — is the feature's other immense and essential asset. Just like the film's two key actors, Roger Deakins' impact is so pivotal that this'd be a completely different movie sans his input. Earning the picture's only Academy Award nomination — his 16th, fresh from consecutive wins for Blade Runner 2049 and 1917 — he ensures that every shot speaks volumes about The Empire and the people who consider it a type of home. Sometimes, he achieves that by mirroring the big screen's frame, finding other frames to place around the picture's characters where possible, and stressing that everyone's tale is worth telling. Sometimes, too, he actively seeks out reflections, nodding to how cinema interacts with the world around it while also literally showing multiple sides of a character at once. That's movie magic alright, and Empire of Light is at its best when it lets its craft demonstrate cinema's glory itself.
The newly expanded Carlton Farmers Market is reopening for 2023, kicking off on March 4 with an inaugural Saturday session featuring family-friendly activities and new stallholders. Marketgoers can expect 20 market stalls boasting fresh Victorian produce, locally-made products, coffee, pastries and snacks. Market lovers still reeling from the shock loss of the Abbotsford Farmers Market can also rejoice at this news: many of the Abbotsford stallholder favourites will make The Carlton Farmers Market their new home. The Carlton Farmers Markets were paused at the end of last year, in order to rejig and revamp the long-standing community event. The markets are $2 to enter but all funds go towards donations for MFM and Carlton North Primary School. Pooches and kids are welcome.
Bodriggy's Abbotsford brewpub is as renowned for its Latin American-inspired food menu as it is for its froths. But on Thursday, March 30, Head Chef Johnny Dominguez (Vue de Monde, Dinner by Heston Blumenthal) is giving those signature flavours a local makeover for a one-off Melbourne Food & Wine Festival feast. He'll be plating up a Latin-leaning menu filled with native ingredients, focusing on local produce that's sustainably sourced from places like Collingwood Children's Farm and Outback Chef Wild Food Farm. He and his team will even be getting out and doing some foraging themselves. [caption id="attachment_894082" align="alignnone" width="1920"] By Carmen Zammit[/caption] You're in for dishes like heirloom tomato tostadas finished with a native salsa, Victorian kingfish ceviche done with finger lime and Davidson plum, and a main of pork belly mole starring elements like saltbush, macadamia and Vegemite. What's more, Bodriggy is creating a special brew to be showcased on the night, infused with a bunch of local flora. There are three sittings to choose from (6pm, 7pm, 8pm), with the banquet coming in at $91. Drinks are available to purchase separately, or you can opt for the $120 ticket and enjoy a curation of matched sips with your feed. [caption id="attachment_735957" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Kate Shanasy[/caption] Top image: Carmen Zammit
These days, you don't have to search too hard at all to find shining examples of females kicking serious goals in Victoria's food and drink scene. But come Thursday, March 30, you'll find yourself absolutely surrounded by them, as a lineup of high-flying talent comes together for the Victorian Female Excellence dinner. Taking over Victoria by Farmer's Daughters as part of Melbourne Food & Wine Festival, this is set to be a female-led feast to remember. [caption id="attachment_866646" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Arianna Leggiero[/caption] The venue's own star female chefs will be taking the reins for the evening, including Iman Mohamed, Daniela Martinez and Raina Kadar. Together, they'll deliver an exclusive seasonal menu that also celebrates the work of local female producers — think, an autumnal salad starring Holy Goat Nectar cheese and toasted hazelnut, crispy goose fat spuds with guiso sauce, and a white chocolate dessert featuring lemon myrtle and finger lime. You'll have the chance to discover some of the talented women who've been making a splash within the state's winemaking industry, too, via an exclusive curation of vino set to be showcased on the night. Tickets to the five-course dinner come in at $150, with any drinks available to add on. [caption id="attachment_866644" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Arianna Leggiero[/caption] Top image: Thom Rigney
A family-run business with a focus on slow and steady fashion principles, High Tea with Mrs Woo boasts sustainable wear known for its longevity. Now, fashion-savvy Melburniates will have the chance to view and try on goods from the Australian-made design practice, with a pop-up coming to Melbourne from Friday, May 5 until Sunday, May 14. To celebrate its winter release, the ethical brand is also hosting two gold-mending kintsugi workshops for a bargain ticket price of $30. Sit down across this 1.5-hour session to learn kintsugi for clothing, including gold-mending techniques to repair holes in your favourite garments. Be quick though, spaces are limited to 12 guests per session, with the first session running from 10am and the second from 12.30pm on Sunday, May 14. Private viewings and personal shopping experiences are also available to book. Images: supplied.
There's no need to try to understand it: John Farnham's 1986 anthem 'You're the Voice' is an instant barnstormer of a tune. An earworm then, now and for eternity, it was the Australian song of the 80s. With its layered beats, swelling force and rousing emotion, all recorded in a garage studio, it's as much of a delight when it's soundtracking comedy films like the Andy Samberg-starring Hot Rod and the Steve Coogan-led Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa as it is echoing out of every Aussie pub's jukebox. Making a noise and making it clear, 'You're the Voice' is also one of the reasons that Farnham's 1986 album Whispering Jack remains the best-selling homegrown release ever nearing four decades since it first dropped. But, as John Farnham: Finding the Voice tells, this iconic match of track and talent — this career-catapulting hit for a singer who'd initially tasted fame as a teen pop idol two decades prior — almost didn't happen. Whispering Jack also almost didn't come to fruition at all, a revelation so immense that imagining Australia without that album is like entering Back to the Future Part II's alternative 80s. Writer/director Poppy Stockwell (Scrum, Nepal Quake: Terror on Everest) and her co-scribe Paul Clarke (a co-creator of Spicks and Specks) know this, smartly dedicating a significant portion of Finding the Voice to that record and its first single. The titbits and behind-the-scenes anecdotes flow, giving context to a song almost every Aussie alive since it arrived knows in their bones. Gaynor Wheatley, the wife of Farnham's late best friend and manager Glenn, talks about how they mortgaged their house to fund the release when no label would touch the former 'Sadie (The Cleaning Lady)' crooner. Chris Thompson, the English-born, New Zealand-raised Manfred Mann's Earth Band musician who co-penned 'You're the Voice', chats about initially declining Farnham's request to turn the tune into a single after the latter fell for it via a demo. A whole documentary about 'You're the Voice' might've been indulgent even for the biggest Farnham fans — a short doco about its role in the aforementioned Hot Rod needs to be made ASAP, however — but that's not Finding the Voice from start to finish. Stockwell and Clarke take the birth-to-now approach, although they're really building towards Farnham finding that smash, and exploring why it was such a jolt of lightning for the musician's life and legacy. With editors Scott Gray (Mortal Kombat) and Steven Robinson (The Endangered Generation?) stitching together a wealth of archival material, the journey begins in earnest with the plumber's apprentice with the impressive pipes, the novelty track he was never all that fond of, and the immediate success and screaming girls that followed. Pop music history is littered with teenage sensations who didn't enjoy more than one hit song or two, which might've been Farnham's fate; through several pivots and comeback attempts, it did indeed appear his destiny. Finding the Voice doesn't take the pressure down, or avoid the lows before the highs: the singles that charted but couldn't shake the 'Sadie' vibes, the mismanagement before Wheatley, the RSL gigs with bandmates who couldn't play, the lack of interest in the UK and the frequent rejection at home. It doesn't avoid the frustrations before 'You're the Voice' and Whispering Jack gave Farnham more than a touch of music stardom paradise, either, or the yearning to be something other than 'The Cleaning Lady' guy. The film weaves in the then-Johnny's time doing stage musicals, including 1971's Charlie Girl, which started his romance with dancer and his now wife-of-five-decades Jill. It steps through his Little River Band era, and the passion and statement of intent resonating in their Farnham-sparked tune 'Playing to Win'. In addition to its ode to its namesake, Finding the Voice was always going to double as a trip through Aussie rock history as well as a homage to former The Masters Apprentices bassist Glenn Wheatley, who died in 2022 due to COVID-19 complications ‚ and it's a balancing act that's handled expertly. Many a music biodoc has mined untold treasures from bygone footage and the shared memories that go with them, a format that Finding the Voice doesn't challenge. The unearthed clips also survey a glorious range of hairstyles — the famous golden flowing 80s mullet is merely one, the five-time TV Week King of Pop era gifting others — while context comes via family, friends, colleagues and admirers offering their thoughts and recollections. After Glenn's passing, Gaynor proves a key source, also illuminating her role in both Farnham and her husband's careers. Jill Farnham and sons Robert and James assist with fleshing out the man behind the mane and music, with Farnham's children noting how sheltered they were from his tough times. And singing his praises? Jimmy Barnes and Daryl Braithwaite, neither voicing any envy — yes, this is briefly a Farnsy-and-Barnsey flick — plus everyone from Celine Dion and Robbie Williams to Richard Marx and Olivia Newton-John. The one that Farnham always wanted professionally — and wanted to emulate the Grease star's overseas triumphs — Newton-John joins Finding the Voice's chorus via voiceover only. Given her death in 2022 as well, the documentary is also a tribute her way without stealing the spotlight from its main figure. With Farnham's own recent health battles with cancer and a respiratory infection well-documented, he too is only heard recently and seen via materials from across his career. That might've left a gaping hole at the movie's middle, but Stockwell ensures that it never feels like a lost opportunity. Cannily, not pointing the camera the 'Age of Reason', 'Two Strong Hearts', 'Chain Reaction' and 'Burn for You' singer's way helps the filmmaker be judicious with her talking-head interviews, and find freedom beyond merely making a hagiography or a glossily authorised bio. It also reinforces two core contrasts: that great music is eternal, but even superstars are only flesh and blood; and that the tunes that last seem like easy hits, but so often spring from a lifetime of hard work. Accompanying the blast-from-the-past visuals, the adoring-but-never-fawning discussions and the exhaustive then-till-now chronicle is the expected stacked roster of Farnsy hits. Finding the Voice was never going to sit in silence, and nor has anyone who has ever heard 'You're the Voice'. Among its astute choices, the film also veers into concert footage — and seeing the power ballad performed by a leather pants-clad, sleeveless tank-wearing, unmistakably sweaty Farnham in pre-unification West Germany, one of the two countries beyond Australia where it reached number one on the charts (the other: Sweden), is a pure seeing-is-feeling moment. How long can we appreciate this Aussie icon? Always, as long as we're all someone's daughters and sons, as the triumphant and insightful Finding the Voice understands.
Making his latest body-horror spectacle an eat-the-rich sci-fi satire as well, Brandon Cronenberg couldn't have given Infinity Pool a better title. Teardowns of the wealthy and entitled now seem to flow on forever, glistening endlessly against the film and television horizon; however, the characters in this particularly savage addition to the genre might wish they were in The White Lotus or Succession instead. In those two hits, having more money than sense doesn't mean witnessing your own bloody execution but still living to tell the tale. It doesn't see anyone caught up in cloning at its most vicious and macabre, either. And, it doesn't involve dipping into a purgatory that sports the Antiviral and Possessor filmmaker's penchant for futuristic corporeal terrors, as clearly influenced by his father David Cronenberg (see: Crimes of the Future, Videodrome and The Fly), while also creating a surreal hellscape that'd do Twin Peaks great David Lynch, Climax's Gaspar Noe and The Neon Demon's Nicolas Winding Refn proud. Succession veteran Alexander Skarsgård plunges into Infinity Pool's torments playing another member of the one percent, this time solely by marriage. "Where are we?", author James Foster asks his wife Em (Cleopatra Coleman, Dopesick) while surveying the gleaming surfaces, palatial villas and scenic beaches on the fictional island nation of Li Tolqa — a question that keeps silently pulsating throughout the movie, and also comes tinged with the reality that James once knew a life far more routine than this cashed-up extravagance. Cronenberg lets his query linger from the get-go, with help from returning Possessor cinematographer Karim Hussain. Within minutes, the feature visually inverts its stroll through its lavish setting, the camera circling and lurching. As rafters spin into view, then tumble into the pristine sky, no one in this film's frames is in Kansas anymore. The couple's temporary home away from home boasts luxury extending as far as the eye can see, but affluent holidaymakers are fenced in by barbed wire and armed guards from the surrounding country. They're deep-pocketed westerners in an exclusive resort haven in an otherwise poor, religious and conservative country, and local protesters aren't afraid to interrupt their paid-for idyll. Still, James and Em are vacationing to hopefully cure his six-year stint of writer's block, after he's struggled to back up his debut novel The Variable Sheath — and that text, which was published thanks to Em's media-tycoon father, struggled to make a literary impact at all. Amid their languid stay, and as Em can barely tell if James is awake or asleep, neither are expecting fellow guest Gabi (Mia Goth, Pearl) to gush praise; "I loved your book," the outgoing stranger and actor tells him, then invites them to dinner with her husband Alban (Jalil Lespert, Beasts), then for an illicit drive and picnic beyond the gates the following day. An unsettling sensation hangs in the air as Gabi pushes her new pals to share her company, relishes being the centre of attention and steals an explicit moment with James on their forbidden jaunt. Writing as well as directing, Cronenberg mists uncertainty and menace in the air earlier, when the hotel hosts a festival celebrating the upcoming monsoon season — an event where masks resembling melted faces are a key costume choice. There's feeling unconvinced about another traveller, hesitant about diving into uncharted waters and anxious about breaking the rules in a foreign land, though, and then there's the ordeal that soon springs from a tragic accident, arrest, death sentence and wild get-out-of-jail-free situation. In Li Tolqa's criminal justice system, the well-to-do can pay to have doubles created to face their punishments. The two caveats: these doppelgängers will have the same memories and their originals must watch their grisly end. "Where are we?" isn't the only line of enquiry splashing through Infinity Pool; "what would you do?", "what will people resort to for self-preservation?", "how cheap is someone else's life?", "why does death frighten us?" and "what happens when there's truly no consequences for anything?" rain down just as heavily. So does the obvious: in this scenario, how does anyone ever know if they're the OG version of themselves or the copy? Em is shaken and can't wait to leave, but the smirk that spreads slowly across James' face while he's witnessing his likeness' demise betrays his intrigue. The movie itself is curious, too — and it, like its audience, knows that humanity's worst impulses are about to pour out. Indeed, in kaleidoscopic and hypnotic sequences overflowing with sex, drugs and violence, as body parts intermingle and bodily fluids flow freely, and while unthinkable cruelty becomes a tourism experience for those who can afford it, the younger Cronenberg showers his film in a sometimes-psychedelic, often-gruesome onslaught of can't-look-away chaos. In pictures both brilliant and brutal — and literally filled with pictures earning the same description — the uncompromising Cronenberg keeps bleakly cosying up to futility. When famous flesh is not just the pinnacle of a society but consumed ravenously and incessantly, as seen in Antiviral, how can existence be meaningful? When bodies are hijacked to do someone else's bidding, as Possessor explored, that same query is inescapable. And when the powerful and privileged treat living and dying as a game dictated by their wallets, what about humanity matters? Getting terrifying with the blood and guts of being alive is clearly in Cronenberg's genes, but his specific mutation also repeatedly ponders existing as a meat market. He isn't subtle about his off-screen parallels, but he doesn't need to be; his ideas and imagery have proven visceral, piercing and haunting not once, not twice, but three glorious times now, including in this dread- and tension-dripping feature that brings a twisted mix of The Prestige, The Forgiven, Dual, Triangle of Sadness, Battle Royal and The Purge to mind. Skarsgård is no newcomer to on-screen mayhem, with 2022's The Northman instantly cementing itself as one of his best-ever performance and films. He's equally magnetic as an initially unwitting participant in Infinity Pool's feast of carnal and primal desires, and more than one iteration of James at that; surrendering with bewilderment to hedonistic madness suits him, as does playing awkward, unsure and tentative alongside that. Fresh from such stunning work in X and Pearl, and with that slasher trilogy's third effort MaXXXine on the way, Goth's casting is just as crucial. If Gabi wasn't as mysterious and seductive as she is ominous — so, if she wasn't an alluring but sinister femme fatale — the whole movie would threaten to wash away. And, if she couldn't flip from enticing to merciless so suddenly and seamlessly, Infinity Pool wouldn't be the entrancing nightmare about soulless sound, fury, sex, bodies, life and death signifying nothing that it so deeply and intoxicatingly is.
"He is the most accomplished man in Europe in riding, running, shooting, fencing, dancing, music." Writing in his diary in 1779 about Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges, American Founding Father and future second US President John Adams didn't hold back with his praise. But the world has barely taken his cue in the nearly two-and-a-half centuries since, letting the tale of this gifted French Creole violinist, conductor and composer slip from wider attention. Within a sumptuous period drama that's charmingly, confidently and commandingly led by Kelvin Harrison Jr — with the Waves, The High Note, The Trial of the Chicago 7 and Cyrano star full of mesmerising swagger, and also endlessly compelling as a talent forced to struggle as a person of colour in a white aristocratic world — Chevalier endeavours to redress this failing of history. Veteran television director Stephen Williams (Watchmen, Westworld, Lost) and screenwriter Stefani Robinson (Atlanta, What We Do in the Shadows) begin their Bologne biopic boldly, playfully and with a front-on confrontation of the "Black Mozart" label that's surrounded their subject when he has been remembered — even if they also commence Chevalier with likely fiction. In pre-revolution Paris in the late 18th century, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Joseph Prowen, Father Brown) has an enraptured crowd in his thrall as he both plays and conducts. He pauses, then prompts his audience for requests. The response comes as a surprise: Bologne striding down the aisle, asking if he too can pick up a violin, then getting duelling with the musical instrument against the acclaimed maestro. Williams and Robinson start their film with a statement, announcing that they're celebrating a life that's been left not only ignored and erased — especially in a realm that's so often considered old, stuffy and definitely not culturally diverse — but also been stuck lingering in someone else's shadow. Chevalier's opening scene is well-staged, instantly rousing and a clever kickoff that speaks volumes — also cheer-worthy, as its on-screen viewers heartily deem it — and, most crucially, it sets the tone for Bologne's continual battle. He won't go mano a mano with Mozart again, but he'll never stop fighting in various fashions. Being underestimated, undervalued and worse due to his race is sadly his life story, which Chevalier places front and centre. As 2013's Belle did in focusing on Dido Elizabeth Belle, the film makes plain the prejudices and politics of the era in a genre that too rarely genuinely interrogates either. The world of Bridgerton may now peer backwards with romantic fantasy and colourblind casting, but that isn't the same as stepping through the experiences of someone who should be far better known, and undoubtedly would be if not for the reaction to their heritage. When he's still a boy (debutant Reuben Anderson) being installed in the only boarding school that will take him, far away from the French colony of Guadeloupe that has always been his home, Joseph is told by his father (Jim High, Foundation) that he must always be excellent in order to be accepted. From that exchange onwards, Bologne chases greatness in all matters — with a foil in his hand, and both performing and writing music, most notably. But even as he impresses Marie Antoinette (Lucy Boynton, Barbie) as an adult, is bestowed the knightly chevalier title and gets a chance to compete to lead the Paris Opera, French society remains quick to drip scorn whenever he exceeds the parts that they'll let him play. Whatever heights he's allowed to reach, he's still viewed as the illegitimate son of white plantation owner and an enslaved Senegalese teen. Williams and Robinson unpack the complexities of Bologne's friendship with the queen, whose progressive ideals are pushed to the fore purely when she's confident in her popularity, and his, among the court. Over both of their futures, the French Revolution looms inescapably — although Chevalier stops before depicting Bologne's time leading an all-Black regiment. Instead, it hones in on two interconnected plot points: that attempt to obtain France's top music post and a romance. For the coveted job, he vies for glory against the snooty and dismissive Christoph Gluck (Henry Lloyd-Hughes, Marriage). In affairs of the heart, he falls for Marie-Joséphine de Comarieu (Samara Weaving, Scream VI), wife of the stern military figure Marquise de Montalembert (Marton Csokas, The Last Duel), after convincing her to sing in the opera that's meant to secure his dream gig. Chevalier repeatedly anchors Bologne's journey in a blatant truth, albeit one that he doesn't see: that the more entrenched he thinks he is within France's upper echelons, the more he's immersed in a discriminatory system that'll never truly welcome him. When his mother Nanon (Ronke Adékoluẹjo, Rain Dogs) re-enters his life, finally free after his father's death, she instantly spots what her son can't — "you are a tourist in their world," she advises — and he isn't thrilled. Whether Joseph is contentedly believing that he's close to carving out his niche or eventually angry at the grim reality, he's feverishly working or dashingly courting, or he's demonstrating his prowess with a rapier or a bow, Harrison Jr is consistently exceptional. He's excellent at conveying Bologne's certainty in his skills and worth, too, including when diva Marie-Madeleine Guimard (Minnie Driver, Starstruck) thinks that he'll bed her because she demands it, and at working through the fiery heartbreak when his society dream is broken. This biopic is an act of rectification. It's a dive into the forgotten past, sometimes taking liberties as it depicts its subject's pursuit of liberté, égalité, fraternité, with a clear purpose and point. The film benefits immensely from enlisting Harrison Jr as its lead. It also boasts fine performances by Adékoluẹjo, Boynton and Weaving, with the former playing plucky and proud, and the latter two each exploring the difficulties of your heart and mind being at odds with the role that you inhabit. Chevalier is gleefully happy to relish its genre's aesthetic and conventions as well, be it at lavish champagne-filled parties or behind opera's scenes, complete with sniping among the well-to-do. While it's the tale, reclamation and portrayals that shine brightest — even if detailing significant parts of Bologne's later story in the text-on-screen post-script is a curious move — reaching ample high notes comes easily.
Forget about trekking up north — at Boho Luxe Market, Byron Bay comes to Melbourne. Well, the beachy New South Wales spot's general vibe does at least. On the market's agenda: forgoing the trappings of the city for a big fix of bohemian fashion, jewellery, homewares, art, skincare and the like. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then block out Friday, August 18–Sunday, August 20 in your diary for the market's winter appearance. The Boho Luxe Market will head to Carlton's Royal Exhibition Building for a weekend of browsing and buying, food trucks, live music and more. There'll be a stack of vegan eats, plus plenty of libations from The Prosecco Van, Cheeky Rascal Cider and Kombi Keg. You can treat yourself to a sound healing session, try a cacao ceremony, or get creative in one of the guided workshops, ranging from henna art to flower crown-making. And if you're after some inspiration for your next event or outdoor adventure, suss out the gorgeous kombi and glamping displays. Entry costs $5 per day or $10 for all three. Drop by and pretend you're somewhere blissed-out and coastal on Friday from 5pm–9pm, Saturday from 10am–5pm, and Sunday from 10am–4pm. [caption id="attachment_865701" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Samee Lapham[/caption] Top Image: Samee Lapham
What do you get when three of Australia's hottest Turkish restaurants join forces? One seriously good Sunday lunch. On July 16, the crew from Sydney's acclaimed Maydanoz are flying down to team up with Balaclava's Tulum and Lezzet of Elwood. Together, the three venues are hosting a curated five-course sharing menu crafted by renowned chefs Arman Uz, Kemal Barut, and Coskun Uysal. This exclusive Sunday Lunch will take place at Lezzet with limited seatings available to book from 12pm on Sunday, July 16. Tickets are $85 a pop (plus extra for drinks), seating is limited and it's expected to sell out fast. So if top-tier Turkish cuisine is your thing, don't hang about. It's unlikely there'll be another of these. Images: Supplied
Pick your poison, action-franchise edition circa 2023: balletically choreographed carnage; cars, kin and Coronas; or Tom Cruise constantly one-upping himself in the megastar stunts stakes. Hollywood loves them all. Cinemas keep welcoming them all. So, after John Wick: Chapter 4 and Fast X comes Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One to deliver the kind of movie spectacle that always looks best on the biggest and brightest of silver screens. And, as its lead actor's gleaming teeth do, the seventh instalment in the TV-to-film spy series shines. Like Cruise himself, it's committed to giving audiences what they want to see, but never merely exactly what they've already seen. This saga hasn't always chosen to accept that mission, but it's been having a better time of it since 2011's Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, including when writer/director Christopher McQuarrie jumped behind the lens with 2015's Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation. McQuarrie and Cruise have history; McQuarrie first helmed Cruise in 2012's Jack Reacher, and also penned or co-penned the screenplays for the Cruise-starring Valkyrie, Edge of Tomorrow, The Mummy and Top Gun: Maverick before and during their Mission: Impossible collaboration. Prior to that, however — the year before Mission: Impossible was reborn as a movie, in fact — the filmmaker won an Oscar for writing The Usual Suspects. Take the puzzle-like trickery of that mid-90s big-reveal mystery, combine it with Cruise's determination to score the first Academy Award for Best Stunts if and when it's ever introduced (or die trying), and it's plain to see why they make an ace Mission: Impossible pair. With both 2018's Mission: Impossible – Fallout and now Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One in particular, they ensure that a franchise based on a half-century-old formula courtesy of Mission: Impossible's television days still feels fresh and thrilling. Rubber masks so realistic that anyone on-screen could rip off their face to reveal Cruise's Ethan Hunt? Of course they're present and accounted for. Espionage antics that involve saving the world while traversing much of it? Tick that off ASAP. The saga's main Impossible Missions Force operative doing whatever it takes, including sprinting everywhere and relentlessly exasperating his higher-ups? Check. A trusty crew faithfully aiding the always-maverick Hunt, plus slippery adversaries to endeavour to outsmart? Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One gives them a hefty thumbs up as well. Shady forces with globe-destroying aims, being able to trust oh-so-few folks, wreaking slickly staged havoc, those jaw-dropping stunts, top-notch actors: Cruise and McQuarrie, the latter co-writing with Erik Jendresen (Ithaca), feel the need to feed it all into the flick, too. They're also rather fond of nodding to and reworking the franchise's greatest hits. Happily playing with recognisable pieces while eagerly, cleverly and satisfyingly building upon them isn't the easiest of skills, but it's firmly in this team's arsenal. When Mission: Impossible — Rogue Nation labelled Hunt "the living manifestation of destiny", it wasn't the series' finest piece of dialogue. There's a sense of humour about hearing him called "a mind-reading, shape-shifting incarnation of chaos" in Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One, though. That description could also be directed at Hunt, Luther Stickell (Ving Rhames, Legacy) and Benji Dunn's (Simon Pegg, The Boys) latest timely enemy: The Entity, an artificial intelligence that's literally killer. Unlike in The Terminator flicks, this AI is content without mechanical bodies to control. Whether in Russian submarines, Abu Dhabi's airport or on careening trains, it does a commanding job of bending both computer programs and people to its will. The aim: to secure that power, a quest that Hunt is on a mission to thwart. Returning from the OG 1996 movie, IMF head Eugene Kittridge (Henry Czerny, Scream VI) initially gives Hunt and company their orders — and once this troupe has been set in motion, little can stop it. So, when the crew punches its "get disavowed by the government again" card, they still stick to the task of tracking down the two-part key that The Entity wants. Terrorist Gabriel (Esai Morales, How to Get Away with Murder) and assassin Paris (Pom Klementieff, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3) are on the AI's side. Jasper Briggs (Shea Whigham, Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse) is among the US operatives trying to bring in Hunt. Back from the last instalment, arms dealer White Widow (Vanessa Kirby, The Son) has her own plan, while ex-MI6 agent Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson, Silo) appears in her third flick in a row to again link in with the usual team. Then there's pickpocket Grace (Hayley Atwell, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness), a newcomer who is accustomed to flying solo. Atwell and Klementieff are scene-stealing additions to the cast, and the always-great Ferguson has been a standout since Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation. Still, as has been teased, talked about and splashed across Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One's poster, Cruise is the one actually physically soaring. What would a Mission: Impossible movie be without flaunting its riskiest stunt, as performed by its stratospheric name himself, as audience bait? Not a McQuarrie-era chapter, that's for sure. When the scene arrives, getting Cruise riding a motorcycle off a towering cliff in an effort to land aboard the hurtling Orient Express, it is indeed breathtaking — and a gripping, nerve-shredding sight to behold. It isn't alone, though, thanks to a tense underwater opening, cat-and-mouse airport antics, Arabian desert horse chases, Fiat-driving Italian Job-style Rome romps and the high-stakes hijinks on Agatha Christie's favourite locomotive itself. Cinematographer Fraser Taggart (Robot Overlords) and editor Eddie Hamilton (back from the last two movies), plus the entire stunt team, help shoot, splice and execute these setpieces rivetingly. Repeatedly besting past Mission: Impossible action triumphs? Mission: accomplished. Twenty-seven years, notching up three pictures now with McQuarrie at the helm, and with Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part Two obviously on the way (arrival: June 2024), there's a well-oiled air to Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One. That said, to run so smoothly requires care, aka someone doing the oiling, which is why there's rarely a well-worn moment or element be seen. Mission: Impossible — Dead Reckoning Part One covers some ground that John Wick: Chapter 4 and Fast X already have in 2023 (and Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny as well). It eagerly nods to its own past. And it knows that Cruise could just cruise-control his way through, as could his co-stars, if they wanted. Its biggest feat? Lifting everything that it does, and that a Mission: Impossible flick must, again and again so that seeming routine proves, yes, impossible. There's no self-destruction here — just devotion to an intense and entertaining action extravaganza.
Once a year, Monster Fest treats cinemagoers to a weird and wonderful film festival filled with genre and cult movies — but that's obviously not often enough. So, behold Monster Fest Weekender, aka the fest that the Monster team hosts midyear when it's not rolling out the full shindig. Hitting Melbourne's Cinema Nova from Friday, July 7–Sunday, July 9, this three-day affair has an added focus in 2023. Get ready to peer out of blue and red lenses, because every movie on the lineup is showing in 3D. No, none of them are Avatar. Yes, they're all horror flicks. As well as being the first time Monster Fest has focused on giving every title it's screening an extra dimension, it's also the first time that the event has solely programmed classics. The fun starts with a tenth-anniversary session of Texas Chainsaw 3D, which is playing Aussie cinemas for the first time. After that Amityville 3D celebrates its 40th anniversary, while the Vincent Price-starring House of Wax — the first colour 3D film from a major studio — notches up 70 years. Monster Fest Weekender's 3D lineup also includes Andy Warhol's Flesh for Frankenstein 3D, remake My Bloody Valentine 3D and direct-to-video 1984 effort Silent Madness 3D — the latter of which is similarly making its big-screen Australian debut.
There's rarely a still moment in BlackBerry. Someone is almost always moving, usually in a hurry and while trying to make their dreams come true everywhere and anywhere. Those folks: Mike Lazaridis (Jay Baruchel, FUBAR) and Douglas Fregin (Matt Johnson, Anne at 13,000 Ft), who created the game-changing smartphone that shares this movie's name; also Jim Balsillie (Glenn Howerton, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia), the executive they pitch to, get knocked back by, then hire as co-CEO. That near non-stop go-go-go look and feel — cinematography that's constantly roving and zooming to match, too — isn't just a stylistic, screenwriting or performance choice. It's a case of art imitating the impact that the BlackBerry handsets and their tiny QWERTY keyboards had on late-90s and early-00s life. Before the iPhone and its fellow touchscreen competitors took over, it was the key device for anyone with a work mobile. The big selling point? Letting people do their jobs — well, receive and send emails — on the move, and everywhere and anywhere. Should you blame Research in Motion, the Canadian technology company that Lazaridis and Fregin founded, for shattering work-life balance? Dubbed "crackberries", their phones played a significant part in extending the office's reach. Is anyone being inundated with after-hours emails on a BlackBerry today? Unless they have an old handset in their button-pressing hands, it isn't likely — and BlackBerry the film explains why. Spinning on-screen product origin stories is one of 2023's favourites trend, as Tetris, Air and Flamin' Hot have demonstrated; however, history already dictates that the latest addition to that group doesn't have a happy ending. Instead, this immersive and gripping picture tells of two friends with big plans who achieved everything they ever wanted, but at a cost that saw the BlackBerry become everything, then nothing. Like its fellow object-to-screen flicks, it follows a big leap that went soaring; this one just crashed spectacularly afterwards. "A pager, a cell phone and an e-mail machine all in one": that's how Mike and Doug explain the PocketLink, the idea that'll turn into the BlackBerry, when they're trying to drum up investors. It's a winning concept, including in 1996 when the film kicks off, but these two pals know computers, coding and tech better than getting their creation out into the world. Balsillie, after rejecting them in a job he's feeling undervalued in, approaches the pair with an offer to assist. Give him a title, authority and a stake in the company, and he'll put in his own cash, become their business saviour and get their phone out into the world. And he does. BlackBerry devices were everywhere in the 2000s. Then Steve Jobs launched the handset that's become ubiquitous since, RIM responded, and the aftermath is well-known in everyone's pockets. There's a cautionary-tale air to this quickly compelling third feature from Johnson, who doesn't just slip into Doug's shoes while rocking an ever-present red headband — he directs and writes, as he did with The Dirties and Operation Avalanche, co-scripting here with Matthew Miller (Nirvanna the Band the Show, another Johnson-starring and -helmed project). BlackBerry isn't content to merely chart an upswing and downfall, plus a trouncing by a corporate adversary, digging into the perils of at-any-cost perspectives in every frame. Always as glaringly evident as a BlackBerry's buttons: if RIM hadn't made short-sighted choices and shady deals, cut corners, and played everything fast and loose while splashing around cash, the film mightn't wrap up as it does irrespective of the iPhone's success. Mark Zuckerberg and Steve Jobs inspired dramas (see: The Social Network, Jobs and Steve Jobs), but Lazaridis, Fregin and Balsillie have sparked a tragedy meets farce. Stepping through IRL events that concluded badly, famously so, doesn't stop Johnson from staying playful as a filmmaker. Indeed, BlackBerry is firmly a satire. Non-fiction book Losing the Signal: The Untold Story Behind the Extraordinary Rise and Spectacular Fall of BlackBerry by journalists Jacquie McNish and Sean Silcoff provides the movie's starting-off point, the overall rise-and-fall arc sticks to the facts, and the era-appropriate aesthetic and pop-culture references — including The Strokes, Moby and The White Stripes needle drops; The Breakfast Club quotes; and Point Break posters — are spot on, but this flick would also go well with The Office or Office Space. The core character dynamic demands a sense of humour, pairing a smart but socially awkward couple of mates with big hopes with a ruthless and shark-like salesman. Reality demands it, too, with the film taking a "what else can you do but laugh?" approach to capitalism in action at its worst. That restless, shaky, zipping-around cinematography by Jared Raab (also The Dirties, Operation Avalanche and Nirvanna the Band the Show, plus We're All Gonna Die (Even Jay Baruchel)) captures plenty that's ridiculous and yet also never surprising. BlackBerry is an eager parody — it purposefully isn't 100-percent accurate in every single detail, and it's as offbeat in vibe as Johnson's past work — but the peppily paced picture remains affectionate about an undersung chapter of Canadian history. So, it chuckles, boggles and chronicles. It perfects the gist of RIM's journey to great heights and back to earth again so savvily that everything feels authentic (emotionally at least) and winking at once. BlackBerry makes cheeky jokes about the device's name, shows LANs and movie nights that couldn't be further away from the corporate normality, giggles when eye-watering figures are thrown at other company's employees and lets Howerton lean into the cut-throat exec type with visible relish — and always keeps clicking as a portrait of faking it till you make it, chasing a quick win over a long-term plan, tech-industry greed and hubris, and selling out over going with your gut. The cast, especially Howerton, buzz on the film's wavelength on the strongest setting possible. While he'll forever be Dennis Reynolds, as he has on the small screen across 16 seasons so far since 2005, he's also a powerhouse as the relentlessly calculating, hockey-loving, take-no-prisoners figure who knows that he's a predator — and he's equally and astutely hilarious. Sporting a shock of greying hair even while playing a thirtysomething, Baruchel is similarly excellent, and subtler. BlackBerry isn't chortling at Balsillie, or at Lazaridis and Fregin, though. Rather, it's amused by the fact that each does exactly what they were always bound to based on their personalities, taking RIM's tale down the only path they probably could with this trio thrust together at the helm. Blackberry phones were once a character-defining status symbol; this can't-look-away movie is three fascinating character studies inside a comedic corporate horror show.
Craft beer fans, get excited. For one night only, West Melbourne's Benchwarmer is teaming up with New Zealand brewery Duncan's to host a five-course dinner with paired beers. On Thursday, June 13, punters can descend on the small bar to find Duncan's Owner and Head Brewer George Duncan talking through each of his brews, from lagers to sours and stouts, including stories about how each of them came about. The Benchwarmer team will then slide on in with food that's made to be paired with each beer. Expect contemporary and playful izakaya-inspired dishes like karaage chicken, kingfish gyoza, kimchi arancini, kangaroo tataki and miso caramel-glazed doughnuts. Tickets for the one-night event come in at $75 a head, which includes both the food and bevs. If you're keen to attend, be sure to gather your mates quickly — there's only one seating at 6.30pm and tickets are highly limited.
It's hot, it's sizzling, and it's happening in East Brunswick Village. That's right, it's a Great Aussie BBQ – and it'll be bringing a whole lot more than the humble sausage to the table this Sunday, March 30. In fact, you'll be feasting on all kinds of grilled, smoked and tomato-sauced dishes with an array of international influences. We're talking lamb shawarma from Rumi, cooked a rotisserie and couched in a Lebanese pita alongside pickled onions and garlic sauce, as well as Bellboy Cafe's barbecued prawn roll, stacked with king prawns, coleslaw, chilli and lemon. But if for you a barbecue isn't a barbecue without sausage, you won't be disappointed. Hagen's will be sizzling up organic pork sausages lathered in its house tomato sauce and topped with organic grilled onions from Day's Walk Farm — and it'll be encased inside Dench white bread smeared with Schultz organic butter. The butcher will also be serving up its next-level pork rissoles, which are given a lift with butternut pumpkin, grana padano, sourdough crumb and bacon trimmings. If that's not enough to knock your grill-loving socks off, you can also treat your good self to an afternoon wine tasting at Blackhearts and Sparrows (that showcases local winemakers as well as no-alc pours), before hitting the chocolate-themed makers market where you'll be able to sample the handmade goods of 30 local artisans. Want in on the action? It's happening between 11am and 4pm this Sunday — and right by the 96 tram stop, too.
It's National Cocktail Day again – and Dolly is shaking things up in the name of your budget. For a few glorious evenings, you can sample the bar's entire premium cocktail range for just $16 a pop. It's an excellent excuse to try Dolly's brand-new signature take on the Kir Royale – a sweet, bubbly French favourite infused with crème de cassis. Alternatively (or in addition), go for a classic, such as an espresso martini, cosmopolitan or limoncello spritz. Whatever your choice, you'll be sipping the night away in Dolly's lush, 1930s-inspired European surroundings. Think marble-topped tables, velvet banquettes and stunning arched mirrors. The $16 deal is available between 5pm and 10pm from Tuesday, March 25 to Saturday, March 29. Make a booking – or roll the dice and walk in. By the way, if you happen to be a Marriott Bonvoy member, you'll get another $4 off each tipple, bringing it down to $12. Not a member? You can sign up on arrival. Cheers to that!
As we begin to head out of the cold part of the year, we consider our options for the best spots to end the day photosynthesising with a schooner in hand. Good thing you've got a new option: a freshly opened rooftop space on top of The Hawthorn Hotel. Opening a rooftop space has long been a dream for The Hawthorn Hotel team, so the special occasion is being celebrated with Champions Evening. On Wednesday, August 28, from 5–7pm, you'll be able to enjoy the space with drinks, complimentary roaming finger food and a bit of friendly competition — thanks to the addition of giant Jenga and regular-size cornhole. And since the space is dedicated to sports fans (with its shiny new LED screen for live broadcast games and matches), a guest star will join the festivities: former Collingwood midfielder Dane Swan, who'll be meeting and greeting fans. Champions Evening will run at the Hawthorn Hotel rooftop on Wednesday, August 28 from 5–7pm. For more information and to book a table, visit the website.
There seems little that could be utopian about an alien invasion film where people are picked off by hulking, spider-limbed, lightning-fast, armour-clad creatures who punish every sound with almost-instant death, but prequel A Quiet Place: Day One makes the opening status quo of horror franchise-starter A Quiet Place look positively idyllic. If you're forced to try to survive an extra-terrestrial attack, where better to be than at your well-appointed farmland home with your family, as the John Krasinski (IF)-helmed and -starring 2018 feature depicted? Most folks, including the third movie in the saga's protagonist Samira (Lupita Nyong'o, Black Panther: Wakanda Forever), a terminal cancer patient with just a service cat called Frodo left as kin, can only dream of being that lucky — not that there's much time for fantasising about a better way to be conquered by otherworldly monsters when what looks like meteors start crashing down to earth. Samira is in hospice care as the A Quiet Place big-screen series, which also spans 2021 release A Quiet Place Part II, steps back to the moment that its apocalyptic scenario begins in New York. She hugs her black-and-white feline companion like letting go would untether her from life even before existence as the planet knows it changes forever — when she's sharing surly poems among other patients, being convinced to attend a group excursion to see a marionette show and, when the promise of pizza on the way home is nixed, telling kindly nurse Reuben (Alex Wolff, Oppenheimer) that he's not actually her friend. A Quiet Place: Day One explores the ground-zero experience for someone who feels so alone in this world and connected only to her devoted pet, and also answers a question: how do those on more than two feet react when the worst that humans can imagine occurs? It might've appeared a significant change of pace when Pig filmmaker Michael Sarnoski was announced as A Quiet Place: Day One's writer and director, a role he took on after The Bikeriders' Jeff Nichols — who, with Take Shelter, Mud and Midnight Special on his resume, had played with visions of the end of the world, science fiction and adventurous quests before — dropped out. But swap in Nyong'o for Nicolas Cage, a cat for a porcine pal and aliens for a kidnapping, and Sarnoski has moulded the terrain of his second feature to pair perfectly with his first. Wolff further links the helmer's two movies together; however, they'd prove a set without him. When the only other critter that defines your days and spends its own by your side is in peril — your one constant in a life already under the shadow of loss, too — the fierceness with which you'd react is the same whether vengeance or safety is your ultimate aim. Samira has another mission: securing that yearned-for slice in Harlem, which she's willing to navigate the chaotic streets with the utmost of hush to endeavour to taste. Sarnoski again deeply understands what our bonds with animals, places and things can say about us; why we cling to and fight for them unflinchingly and against the odds; and how devastating it can be when what little that a person has left is under threat. Accordingly, committing to hunt down a favourite piece of pizza while bedlam breaks out isn't just about enjoying an Italian meal. As with Pig, casting enormously aids the process of taking viewers on this emotional and psychological journey. Cage gave one of his finest performances in a career filled with versatile wonders as a truffle-foraging ex-Portland chef whose tentative sense of stability and self were shattered sans swine, and fellow Oscar-winner Nyong'o, ten years on from clutching Hollywood's most-coveted trophy for 12 Years a Slave, is equally as gripping. Sarnoski's current star is no stranger to horror, or to being excellent in it. See: Nyong'o's unforgettable effort in 2019, just past the midway point between 12 Years a Slave and A Quiet Place: Day One, in Jordan Peele's haunting and razor-sharp Us. Conveying the piercingly melancholy feeling of fighting what's long been a fraught fray for yourself, but holding up the battle for what you hold dearest, isn't an easy feat in her latest role — and nor is doing so when terror on multiple levels never subsides. It's also the heart and soul of the movie, which continues the franchise trademark of valuing characters over bumps and jumps, even as it still delivers the latter. Nyong'o wears Samira's determination despite several hazards to her mortality as assuredly as the fentanyl patches that get her character through the day, and the red beanie and yellow cardigan that are Samira's uniform. Knocked out amid the Big Apple erupting in mayhem, noise and white dust — any racket, of course, being the most-fatal thing for everyone desperate to avoid extinction — A Quiet Place: Day One's lead figure first wakes up in the puppet theatre, and she isn't solo. All things A Quiet Place have established in prior flicks how fleeting and fragile any calm and refuge can be, even in the best-case setup of the OG movie's Abbott clan, so it's no surprise when tragedy keeps thundering in. Via Djimon Hounsou's (Rebel Moon) Henri, though, the film gets a direct tie to A Quiet Place Part II and hope that some kind of future beckons. Courtesy of Joseph Quinn's (Stranger Things) English law student Eric, who also gives the picture another opportunity to demonstrate the comforting power of befriending a mouser, Samira's ordeal receives a new chance at human connection. And with its scene-stealing kitty, who is played by 100-percent real the real thing and is wonderful, cinema gains a complement to Alien's Jonsey. Collaborating again with cinematographer Pat Scola (We Grown Now) after Pig, Sarnoski has switched areas of America, yet there's no less of a lived-in texture to A Quiet Place: Day One's look and feel. That's another not-at-all-small achievement in a successful sci-fi/horror saga — one that has briefly jumped back to attack day in the past, in fact — that's set in a city that virtually everyone around the has globe has walked through via the silver screen almost as much as their own locations IRL. Meaningful wins when far less could've resulted sums up the film again and again, from a story co-conjured with Krasinski that does far more than merely extend a hit realm to the exactingly executed creature-feature sequences and the meticulous sound design that a tale predicated upon silence demands. Movies about attempting to endure can also be movies about finding your own idea of utopia in the absolute direst of circumstances, no matter how short-lived, and this one hears the call loudly.
As a movie, it's a masterpiece. As a stage musical, it's one of the most famous there is. And, returning to Australia for the first time in almost 20 years with Sarah Brightman starring as Norma Desmond, Sunset Boulevard is going to be big. Andrew Lloyd Webber's Tony-winner, which first took the leap from the screen to the stage in 1993 — and picked up Best Musical, Best Original Score, Best Book of a Musical, and awards for leading actor, leading actress and featured actor for its efforts, among more — is bringing its Hollywood story Down Under again in 2024. The production will kick off its new Aussie run in Melbourne from Tuesday, May 21, debuting at the Princess Theatre. As Desmond, Brightman will make her global debut in the part, taking on her first theatre role in over three decades. She'll also add to a spectacular career that includes originating the role of Christine in The Phantom of the Opera back in the 80s. Here, she's stepping into a part that saw Gloria Swanson nominated for an Oscar in 1951 and Glenn Close win a Tony in 1995. Debra Byrne played the part in Australia back in 1996, while Nicole Scherzinger of the Pussycat Dolls has done the same in West End. [caption id="attachment_921590" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Simon Fowler[/caption] As Billy Wilder's 1950 film first covered in a feature that's been influential not just in inspiring stage adaptations, but on every other movie about Tinseltown since, Sunset Boulevard follows silent star Desmond. With her career getting small with the advent of the talkies, she dreams about making a comeback. The movie famously starts with a man's body floating in a swimming pool, then flashes back to Desmond's time with screenwriter Joe Gillis, her latest attempts to reclaim her success and the events that bring about that watery end. On the stage, Sunset Boulevard will echo with tunes such as 'With One Look', 'The Perfect Year' and 'As If We Never Said Goodbye' as it tells the above tale. [caption id="attachment_956091" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Ben King[/caption] Top image: Ben King.
Imaginary friends should be seen, but people trying to survive an alien invasion should not be heard. So goes John Krasinski's recent flicks as a filmmaker. While IF, The Office star's fifth feature behind the lens, has nothing to do with 2018 horror hit A Quiet Place or its 2020 sequel A Quiet Place Part II, the three movies share a focus on the senses and their importance in forming bonds. When Krasinski's two post-apocalyptic hits forced humanity into silence for survival, they contemplated what it meant to be perceived — or not — as a basic element of human connection amid the bumps, jumps and tale of a family attempting to endure. With IF, the writer/director also ponders existence and absence. It skews younger, though, and also more whimsical, for a family-friendly story about a girl assisting made-up mates that are yearning Toy Story-style to have flesh-and-blood pals again. The horror genre still lingers over IF, however. It doesn't haunt in tone, because this isn't 2024's fellow release Imaginary; rather, it's a sentimental fantasy-adventure film, enthusiastically so. But from the moment that the movie's narrative introduces its IFs, as the picture dubs imaginary friends, it's easy to spot Krasinski's inspiration. In New York staying with her grandmother Margaret (Fiona Shaw, True Detective: Night Country) while her dad (Krasinski, Jack Ryan) is having heart surgery, 12-year-old Bea (Cailey Fleming, The Walking Dead) starts seeing pretend creatures. She then has a task: reuniting critters such as Blue (Steve Carell, Asteroid City), the purple-hued furry monster that, alongside Minnie Mouse-meets-butterfly Blossom (Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny), is one of the first IFs that she spots, with the now-adults that conjured them up as children. Only Cal (Ryan Reynolds, Ghosted), who lives upstairs from Bea's nan, can also glimpse Blue, Blossom and the like. And although his past plans to aid the IFs in finding new kid buddies to get over their old ones haven't been successful, he's still along for the ride — somewhat reluctantly and crankily — as Bea spends the days that her dad is in hospital distracting herself with her new job. Krasinski mightn't have yet directed a film that hails from existing material, not here, in either A Quiet Place entry, his 2009 debut Brief Interviews with Hideous Men or in 2016's The Hollars, but he slips IF into familiar all-ages terrain. Take a kid or kids, whisk them off into a fanciful space either away from or that reframes their own world, then surround them with anything but the ordinary and everyday: everything from Mary Poppins and Labyrinth to Jumanji and also Studio Ghibli's Spirited Away has imagined it as well. A giant heart beats and a waterfall of sincerity flows in IF's exploration of how loneliness, pain, uncertainty and anxiety can dance away through companionship, and also through truly seeing someone and being seen. That's what it means to spot imaginary friends, after all, with children conjuring themselves up a pal that's always by their side unconditionally no matter what life throws their way at a young age. We might grow out of playing make believe to enjoy the company of a BFF, but no one moves past needing to be recognised and appreciated, and hurting if they aren't. Someone who certainly hasn't: a pre-teen who insists to her happy-go-lucky father that she's too old now for goofy pranks and spinning stories, and to her grandma that colouring in and painting aren't age-appropriate hobbies, as she grapples with her remaining parent's health after losing her mother (Catharine Daddario, The Tomorrow Job) in the movie's opening montage. Sweet almost to the point of corniness, patently unafraid of symbolism and giving all of the effort that it can, IF isn't a subtle film, including in deploying a glow from cinematographer Janusz Kamiński (The Fabelmans, and also Steven Spielberg's go-to since Schindler's List) in its retro aesthetic and heartstring-tugging melodies from composer Michael Giacchino (Next Goal Wins, and also Pixar's Inside Out, Coco and Lightyear) in its score as it takes its audience along with Bea's emotional journey. (Also obvious, and not just from Kamiński and Giacchino's involvement: the Spielberg and Pixar influences). But it's all so eagerly and unashamedly earnest, and so carefully constructed, that the movie itself resembles a kid with an imaginary friend — making viewers believe in it because it believes with such unwavering and wholehearted dedication. It helps that the various IFs bounding through the picture's frames look not only imaginative, but like the product of real imaginations, spanning bears, marshmallows, unicorns, spacemen, cubes of ice in glasses of water and more. Blue, all plush and tactile (and, yes, likely destined for the merchandise treatment), isn't the only imaginary friend that could've stepped out of a toy box. On voice duties, the cast is a look-who-I-can-call roster on Krasinski's part — see: Emily Blunt (The Fall Guy), George Clooney (Ticket to Paradise), Bradley Cooper (Maestro), Matt Damon (Drive-Away Dolls), Awkwafina (Kung Fu Panda 4), Bill Hader (Barry), Keegan-Michael Key (Wonka), Blake Lively (The Rhythm Section), Sam Rockwell (Argylle) and Maya Rudolph (Loot), for starters — yet IF doesn't enlist such a starry list of names for just-showing-up turns, getting both depth and laughs from the who's who lineup. With the impressive Fleming at its centre, a playful showpiece sequence arrives midway through the movie, with Bea guided to the IF retirement home beneath Coney Island. Here, imaginary friends endeavour to cope with life without their tykes, but Bea reshapes their space using (what else?) the power of imagination. Flourishes such as singing with the late, great Tina Turner and plunging into a painting only to come out all splattered with its hues are splendid touches (endearing as well), each alive with the spirit of childlike wonder that Krasinski so keenly wants to capture. One harking back to tunes with and cherished moments of significance to Bea, the other making the act of diving into creativity literal, they're sensory touches, too — because Krasinski knows that if we're not open to experiencing as much as we truly can, and connecting through it, we're not truly living.
Post-viewing soundtrack, sorted: to watch Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story is to take a trip down memory lane with the Australian music industry and hear homegrown standouts from the past five decades along the way. Unsurprisingly, this documentary already has an album to go with it, a stacked release which'd instantly do its eponymous figure proud. His tick of approval wouldn't just stem from the artists surveyed, but because Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story's accompanying tunes comprise a three-disc number like Mushroom Records' first-ever drop, a 1973 Sunbury Festival live LP. To tell the tale of Gudinski, the record executive and promoter who became a household name, is to tell of Skyhooks, Split Enz, Hunters & Collectors, Jimmy Barnes, Paul Kelly, Kylie Minogue, Archie Roach, Yothu Yindi, Bliss n Esso, The Temper Trap, Gordi and Vance Joy, too — and to listen to them. Need this on-screen tribute to give you some kind of sign that the Gudinski and Mushroom story spans a heap of genres? Both the film and the album alike include Peter Andre. Any journey through Michael Gudinski's life and career, from his childhood entrepreneurship selling car parks on his family's vacant lot to his years and years getting Aussie music to the masses — and, on the touring side, bringing massively popular overseas artists to Aussies — needs to also be an ode to the industry that he adored. The man and scene are inseparable. But perhaps Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story plays as such an overt love letter to Australian music because it's an unashamed hagiography of Gudinski. Although the movie doesn't deliver wall-to-wall praise, it comes close. When it begins to hint at any traces of arrogance, moodiness or ruthlessness, it quickly does the doco equivalent of skipping to the next track. Australian Rules and Suburban Mayhem director Paul Goldman, a seasoned hand at music videos as well, has called his feature Ego and there's no doubting his subject had one; however, the takeaway in this highly authorised biography is that anything that doesn't gleam was simply part of his natural mischievousness and eager push for success. Much shines in Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story anyway, and always would: that list of artists that've graced Mushroom's catalogue is as impressive as it is sizeable. Many get chatting, including a raw Barnes, a glowing Minogue and a reflective Tim Finn. Internationally, Garbage's Shirley Manson beams about Gudinski's fair treatment of women in a realm not known for it. Sting, Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen and Dave Grohl, representing the veteran global megastar contingent, talk up his energy, work ethic and hospitality. When Ed Sheeran chimes in, he shares about a deeply personal bond as much about Gudinski's help making him such a smash Down Under. Weaved between the above airwave and plenty more favourites, Gudinski's wife Sue is understandably tender but also candid, while children Kate (once a singer–songwriter herself) and Matt (now Mushroom Records' CEO) are affecting yet clear-eyed. The portrait painted: of someone who was so obsessed with music, and with working with musicians, that revolving his whole life around both was always going to happen. Gudinski himself notes that picking up instruments was never his forte, so making deals for and with the folks who play them became his calling. A wealth of behind-the-scenes anecdotes stating the same case come from Michael Chugg, a fellow Aussie music-industry mainstay who has operated both beside and in competition with Gudinski — but Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story's most prominent, enthusiastic and frequently deployed interviewee is Gudinski. While 2023 marks two years since he passed away suddenly, he's a lively presence again and again in this birth-to-death chronicle. The benefits of spending your time with rock and pop stars: even in the 70s, cameras capturing a treasure trove of footage were regularly present. Like Moonage Daydream and Cobain: Montage of Heck filmmaker Brett Morgen, writer/helmer Goldman knows one of the biggest truths in the documentary field, be it in music or otherwise: there's nothing like someone relaying their own history. With Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story, hence the celebratory vibe, because Gudinski also knew how to promote himself. And, of course, charting how the Australian-born son of Jewish Lithuanian immigrants started spruiking teen discos when he was a teen, formed a record label championing Australian music at just 20, took a chance on now-iconic acts that were boundary-pushing in their day and built Mushroom into a local behemoth is inherently rousing. Jam-packed doesn't only describe Mushroom's roster, this movie's soundtrack or Gudinski's existence — it sums up this ride of a film. Goldman, co-writer/producer Bethany Jones (Molly: The Real Thing), fellow scribe/editor Sara Edwards (Suzi Q) and Mushroom Studios, Gudinski's label's film arm, could've opted for a docuseries and had no trouble filling episode after episode. In keeping to 111 minutes, the end result resembles a greatest-hits package from the Gudinski experience. Accordingly, when Red Symons offers the most blunt and sceptical opinions, it stands out. When Kelly laments the early-90s sale of 49 percent of the company to News Corp, it leaves an imprint as well. Each chapter screams for more attention — as does the decision not to sign Men at Work or Cold Chisel (Barnes was snapped up when he went solo); the reluctance to broaden Mushroom's remit away from rock with then-Neighbours star Minogue; supporting Roach, Yothu Yindi and First Nations music in general; and, on the live gig side, Sound Relief's fundraising concerts for the Black Saturday bushfires and early-pandemic effort Music From the Home Front. Revelations and insights still drop like beats, with the fact that the Nazis killed Gudinski's older sister during the Second World War an unforgettable early disclosure. Affection remains Ego: The Michael Gudinski Story's catchy refrain, though — and, as set to that aforementioned soundtrack, it is indeed infectious. The comic book-esque graphics are overkill, which Goldman seems to realise partway through, giving them less and less prominence. Appreciating the talent that mightn't be so beloved today without Gudinski's love of music? There's nothing excessive about that. Walking out of the cinema and slipping on headphones ASAP is just inevitable.
There's almost nothing that's bold about Haunted Mansion, but making the Disney family-friendly horror-comedy about moving on from the past is downright audacious. What the film preaches, the company behind it isn't practising — with this specific movie or in general. This flick isn't the first that's based on the Mouse House's The Haunted Mansion theme-park attraction, thanks to a 2003 Eddie Murphy (You People)-starring feature. In 2021, the entertainment behemoth also combined the Disneyland, Walt Disney World and Tokyo Disneyland highlight with The Muppets in streaming special Muppets Haunted Mansion. And, no matter how Haunted Mansion circa 2023 fares at the box office, there's no doubting that the idea will get another spin down the line. Nearly everything Disney does; this is the corporation that keeps remaking its animated hits as live-action pictures (see: The Little Mermaid), revelling in sequels even decades later (see: Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny), and getting franchises sprawling as films and TV shows alike (see: Marvel and Star Wars). Disney also adores stretching its well-known properties across as many parts of its business as possible, sometimes taking its movies and brands into its amusement parks — Star Wars, Marvel and Pixar have all received that treatment — and, of course, repeatedly doing the reverse. Pirates of the Caribbean, Jungle Cruise, Tomorrowland, Tower of Terror, Mission to Mars, The Country Bears: they've all charted the path that Haunted Mansion has three times now. Accordingly, while grappling with and learning how to move forward from grief isn't an amusing topic, that letting go sits at the latest Haunted Mansion's centre is the funniest thing about the new film. The first word in the picture's moniker couldn't be more spot on — not just due to the ghosts that terrorise the titular home, but via the unnerving reality that this is another by-the-numbers entry in a long line of attempts to hero existing name recognition first, foremost and forever. When Dear White People and Bad Hair filmmaker Justin Simien begins his Haunted Mansion, it's with backstory that explains why astrophysicist Ben Matthias (LaKeith Stanfield, Atlanta) is himself so unwilling to embrace the future. He meets Alyssa (Charity Jordan, They Cloned Tyrone), falls in love, then understandably falls apart when he's suddenly a widower — and, once he's consumed by mourning he's committed to staying that way. Then priest and exorcist Father Kent (Owen Wilson, Loki) ropes him into a gig at the movie's central abode, enlisting not just his help but the use of his specially developed camera that photographs dark matter and, ideally, spectres. The gadget was a labour of love for Alyssa, who worked as a ghost tour guide around New Orleans, a job that Ben has swapped science and the lab for after her passing. There's a difference between truly believing in the supernatural and wanting to feel connected to the person you love, however; Ben is in the second category. So, when he gets snapping to help Gracey Manor's new inhabitant Gabbie (Rosario Dawson, Ahsoka), a doctor who has just relocated with her son Travis (Chase W Dillon, The Harder They Fall), he's as sceptical as he can be and just in it for the hefty payday. Then, two things eventuate: he connects with the shy and introverted boy, who is treated like an outcast at school; and, no matter how much he tries, he can't leave the home's spirits behind. Cue a notion straight from Disney's IRL playbook: being unable to cut ties. In Ben's case, the only solution is taking the haunted mansion's eeriness seriously, discovering what's going on, and calling in psychic Harriet (Tiffany Haddish, The Afterparty) and college historian Bruce Davis (Danny DeVito, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia) to also lend a hand. Haunted Mansion's unspoken motto: if you're going to make a movie based on a theme-park favourite, you might as well make a theme park-style movie. So, something chaotic pops up around every corner, be it more nods to the feature's origins, more otherworldly bumps and jumps, more famous faces or more weak attempts at laughs. There's a bigger sense of experience to an amusement-park attraction, though, rather than just something happening, then something else, then another thing and so on as occurs here. Screenwriter Katie Dippold has one of the best-written — and best overall — sitcoms of the 21st century on her resume in Parks and Recreation, and also penned 2016's smart and funny female-led Ghostbusters, and yet her current script largely sticks to the rails. While there's emotional depth to Ben's journey, as well as to his bond with Travis, Haunted Mansion is rarely eager to veer there, preferring formulaic cursed-dwelling hijinks to sincerity everywhere it can. Still, viewers should be grateful for the film's casting — especially Stanfield. The Judas and the Black Messiah Academy Award-nominee brings his roaming, restless Atlanta energy, melancholy and charm to Ben, aiding the film in conjuring up what little weight it has. It's through him, in fact, that it's possible to see the shadows of a better movie that Haunted Mansion sadly isn't. Around Stanfield, the bulk of his colleagues appear to be having enough fun with each other, including Dan Levy (Schitt's Creek) and 2023 Oscar-winner Jamie Lee Curtis (Halloween Ends). That's another of Haunted Mansion's theme park-esque strategies: filling its frames with folks who look like they're enjoying themselves, even among an onslaught of stock-standard special effects that lengthen hallways, get people disappearing through walls and the like, in the hope that the vibe will be contagious. Alas, it sorely isn't. It's easy to want to spend time with Stanfield and co: Wilson could've just skipped through time from 1999's The Haunting, but makes it work; Haddish amps up the mood whenever it's needed; and playing a figure that everyone is trying to flee perfectly suits Jared Leto (Morbius), who gets malicious as The Hatbox Ghost. A few spooks and scares hit the mark as well, but too few in an over-long-and-feels-it 123-minute movie. There's another presence lingering over Haunted Mansion, however: the ghost of genuinely excellent all-ages efforts, some with chills and others more with thrills, that are still beloved from years gone by. When this lacklustre effort is the newest entry in the field, no one is quickly moving past prior classics that still hold up wonderfully, such as Gremlins and The Goonies in the 80s; The Addams Family and Addams Family Values in the 90s; The Witches in that same decade; and the animated efforts of Coraline, ParaNorman and Frankenweenie.
Nicolas Cage is sorely missed in Five Nights at Freddy's, not that he was ever on the film's cast list. He starred in 2021's Willy's Wonderland, however, which clearly took its cues from the video-game franchise that this attempt to start a corresponding movie series now officially adapts. Willy's Wonderland wasn't great, but a near-silent Cage battling demonic animatronics was always going to be worth seeing. Unsurprisingly, he's mesmerising. In comparison, the actual Five Nights at Freddy's feature stars Josh Hutcherson deep in his older brother phase, bringing weary charm to a by-the-numbers horror flick that's as routine as they come no matter whether you've ever mashed buttons along with its inspiration — which first dropped in 2014 and now spans nine main games, a tenth on the way and five spinoffs — or seen everyone's favourite Renfield, Pig and Color Out of Space actor give an unlicensed take a go. Writer/director Emma Tammi (The Wind), the game's creator Scott Cawthon (Scooby Doo, Where Are You? In... SPRINGTRAPPED!) and co-screenwriter Seth Cuddeback's (Mateo) movie iteration of Five Nights at Freddy's doesn't just arrive after a Cage film got there first; it hits after season 16 of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia wreaked havoc on a comparable setting already in 2023. If you're looking for a pitch-black comedic skewering of eateries in the style of Chuck E Cheese, the IRL pizzeria-meets-arcade chain that Freddy Fazbear's Pizza is patently based on, that's the best of the year. So, the Five Nights at Freddy film lingers in multiple shadows. There's symmetry on- and off-screen as result: shining a torchlight around in the movie uncovers sights that its characters would rather not see, and peering even just slightly through recent pop culture shows that this picture isn't alone, either. The concept in Five Nights at Freddy's whether you've got a controller in your hand or you're watching a flick: at the once-popular Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, which was big with families in the 80s, working the night shift at the restaurant's long-shuttered base has killer consequences. That's when the life-sized singing-and-dancing furry robots that performed shows for kids when the place was operational now go menacingly a-wandering, and also make their lack of fondness for visitors brutally known, causing a high staff turnover. Five Nights at Freddy's does explain why, but everything from what's going on to the reason behind it is horror movie 101. The film may take place in an eatery rather than a home — a creepy one, of course — but it's basically a haunted house affair, and happily ticks all of the most standard of genre boxes. Taking the gig from career counsellor Steve Raglan (Matthew Lillard, Scream) reluctantly, Mike Schmidt (Hutcherson, Futureman) doesn't want to be anywhere but his own abode come dark, let alone in a dilapidated old funhouse restaurant with anthropomorphic animal figures as one of its main attractions. But he's in need of work after being fired from his mall security job because he wrongly thought that a dad scolding his son was a man kidnapping a child, and reacted violently — and he has his ten-year-old sister Abby (Piper Rubio, Unstable) to look after. They're all that each other have left since the death of their parents and the abduction of their brother Garrett (Lucas Grant, The Patient) years before that, which Mike feels responsible for, other than the overbearing aunt (Mary Stuart Masterson, Blindspot) who is maliciously suing for custody. Mike normally spends his evenings attempting to find out what happened to Garrett via his dreams, a task he continues at Freddy's, with his preoccupation elsewhere giving the animatronics free rein. The place is inherently eerie in a dusty, overlooked, caught-out-of-time way — and also if you just think that giant teddy bears like Freddy can be ominous anyway — but Five Nights at Freddy's lead hasn't noticed until local cop Vanessa (Elizabeth Lail, You) drops by one night while patrolling her beat. Fuelled by his tragic past and ignoring the key 'don't fall asleep' rule of his overnight gig, he's too busy yawning his way to some shuteye to put dream theory to work to unlock his memories of the incident that shattered his family forever. Constructing a film around an oft-snoozing protagonist can be a double-edged sword, and cuts the wrong way here, reminding viewers that they might prefer to be slumbering as well. All that's endeavouring to keep most of the audience awake is predictable circuitry, from horror's current obsession with examining trauma's impact (and the genre's undying love of overusing any trend in flicks great, average and terrible) to overt nods in Stephen King and Scooby Doo's directions. That Scooby Doo vibe is telling, though: rather than just trying to evoke nostalgia in viewers who can remember their days as kids in arcades, family-themed restaurants or combos of both, Five Nights at Freddy's is as much aimed at adolescents now. Accordingly, Tammi hasn't taken a Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey approach — not that that's a worthy example of blending cuddly critters with horror at all — with her film focusing on mood, anticipation, suggestion and jump scares over anything gory or terrifying. Younger audiences still deserve better than a movie this generic. Everyone deserves something other than a film where more time is expended on the build-up and backstory than with Freddy Fazbear, Foxy, Chica, Cupcake and Bonnie. Created by Jim Henson's Creature Shop, the mechanised mascots look the part, but are both under-deployed and then stuck going through the murderous motions. Winking casting that gives away too much is also part of the Five Nights at Freddy's film experience. So is the pointless aunt subplot, which couldn't be more cartoonish. Scenes that do nothing but gush exposition — and ensure that there's zero mystery around who knows more than they're letting on — similarly bog down the movie. Hutcherson and Rubio nonetheless do well enough with pixel-thin characters, especially in a feature that frequently seems as if it has spliced an unrelated flick about sibling trauma into the Five Nights at Freddy's premise. A picture based on the gaming series was always bound to happen, and Blumhouse adding another established well-known horror name to a stable that also includes Black Christmas, Fantasy Island, The Invisible Man, The Craft's sequel, three Halloween movies, Firestarter and the latest The Exorcist entry was just as likely, but it shouldn't play like everything within it and about it is dully inevitable.
Is your wardrobe overflowing with clothes that you don't wear? We've all been there, and we've all been too busy to do anything about it. Through its op shops, Australian Red Cross finds a new home for your pre-loved outfits, shoes and accessories, with proceeds going towards its charity efforts — but we all know that wanting to donate your old threads is one thing and finding the time to do it is another. That's why Australian Red Cross has once again partnered with Uber for its annual Uber x Red Cross Clothing Drive. When it launched in 2018, it collected over 43,500 kilograms of clothing in that first year alone, which saw clothing items worth an estimated $800,000 donated. And you'd best take the drive part literally, as the ride-sharing service will actually drive to your house, pick up your unwanted clothes and accessories, and deliver them to Red Cross Shops. Even better: it's not only super easy to take part, but it's free as well. Melburnians, just make sure you're ready between 9am–4pm on Saturday, October 21. Once you've bagged up all of your old bits and pieces (items you'd happily give your best friend, and no toys, books, furniture or electrical objects) into a bundle that weighs no more than 20 kilograms, it's all incredibly simple. Open the Uber app during that seven-hour window, then find the 'package' option. After that, you need to click 'send a package', enter "Red Cross Shop" as the destination, and select one of the Red Cross Clothing Drive locations displayed An Uber driver will then stop outside your house, meaning that you just need to take your preloved goods out to their car. Voila, you've cleared out your closet and you've helped folks in need, all with the tap of a button.
When it comes to this cheap way to get a bite brought to your door across Friday, August 25–Sunday, August 27, Larry Emdur and Ian 'Turps' Turpie spring to mind: the price is indeed right. Across the three days, DoorDash is bringing back its $1 Weekend. Not that you'll be paying with actual gold coins, but that's all you'll need denomination-wise for a heap of dishes. Running across the country, this weekend special has enlisted Fishbowl, Lord of the Fries, Betty's Burgers and San Churro — and Soul Origin, Pizza Hut, Red Rooster and Oporto, too. Prefer Huxtaburger instead? That's also on the list, as is Smith & Deli, Daniel Donuts and Gami Chicken. Each state has more than 2000 offers available across the three days, including Victoria. Of course, as there always is, there are caveats. The big one: the deal is available from 2–5pm AEST each day, so you'll either want a late lunch or early dinner. Another crucial point: there's a unique promo code for each day displayed on the DoorDash app for each store, which you need to use at checkout. And, you will 100-percent need to order via that app. Also, you can only get one $1 menu item per order — and one $1 special per day, too. Unsurprisingly, only some menu items are available for $1. And, some places will only let you get one $1 special across the whole weekend. Delivery and service fees are still applicable, and an order fee will be added if your subtotal is less than $15. Still, in this economy, a bargain is a bargain.
If you've ever wanted to turn your childhood into a movie, Theater Camp is the latest film that understands. It's also happy to laugh. Unlike Minari, Belfast, The Fabelmans, Aftersun and Past Lives, this isn't a drama, with Molly Gordon, Ben Platt, Noah Galvin and Nick Lieberman making a sidesplittingly funny mockumentary about a place that's near and dear to them. What happens when four friends reflect upon their formative years, when they all fell in love with putting on a show? Theater Camp is the pitch-perfect answer. Looking backwards can be earnest and nostalgic, as Gordon and company know and embrace. Going for Wet Hot American Summer meets Waiting for Guffman and A Mighty Wind, they're just as aware that it can be utterly hilarious. Watching Theater Camp means stepping into Gordon, Platt, Galvin and Lieberman's reality. None are currently camp counsellors, but the realm that they parody genuinely is personal. The film's core quartet initially came into each other's lives via youth theatre. With Gordon and Platt, the picture even boasts the receipts — aka IRL footage of the pair performing as kids — from a time when they were appearing together in Fiddler on the Roof at age four and in How to Succeed in Business at five. This team was first driven to bring their shared experiences to the screen in an improvised 2020 short also called Theater Camp. Now, they flesh out that bite-sized flick to full length as enthusiastically as any wannabe actor has ever monologued. All four co-write, while Booksmart and The Bear star Gordon directs with fellow first-time feature helmer Lieberman. Gordon, Dear Evan Hansen stage and screen lead Platt, plus Galvin — who similarly portrayed that Broadway hit's title role — act as well, playing three of the adults at AdirondACTS. Gordon and Platt cast themselves as Rebecca-Diane and Amos, Theater Camp's co-dependent life-long best friends forever. The film's central vacation spot was the joined-at-the-hip characters' ultimate escape, and still is. That said, their move into teaching at the same venue is a clear sign that their aspirations as performers haven't come to fruition. Every year now, Rebecca-Diane and Amos guide teen campers through all things theatre — and towards putting on the season's big show, an original that the duo also write and direct. But Theater Camp's summer in focus isn't any old summer. Before the thespians of tomorrow arrive, while the financially struggling AdirondACTS is in fundraising mode, founder Joan (Amy Sedaris, Somebody I Used to Know) falls into a coma due to "the first Bye Bye Birdie–related injury in the history of Passaic County". While she's incapacitated, that leaves her finfluencer son Troy (Jimmy Tatro, a YouTuber and now The Afterparty and Strays talent) in charge. Also in upstate New York while the sun shines, the histrionics ramp up and everything becomes a performance: the camp's put-upon backstage go-to Glenn (Galvin, The Good Doctor), who is largely ignored and underappreciated by his peers; costume guru Gigi (Owen Thiele, Hacks) and dance instructor Clive (Nathan Lee Graham, Katy Keene), who couldn't be more passionate about their respective disciplines; and staff newcomer Janet (Ayo Edebiri, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem), who knows less than the students. Representing a neighbouring private-school camp that's been flashing its cash for years trying to buy AdirondACTS' land from Joan, lawyer Caroline (Patti Harrison, She-Hulk: Attorney at Law) struts around in an effort to convince Troy to sell. And there are kids, of course, of varying skills and with an array of theatre-related hopes (Minari's Alan Kim, Young Rock's Bailee Bonick, Chapelwaite's Donovan Colan and The Mighty Ducks: Game Changers' Luke Islam are among them). Gordon, Platt, Galvin and Lieberman focus their script on the production of Joan, Still, Rebecca-Diane and Amos' centrepiece musical for the year and a tribute to their absent mentor — and, as finances keep proving an issue, Troy's cluelessness constantly has an impact and Caroline is adamant about snapping up the facility, on saving the entire site. Chaos ensues, which is predictable in the film's broad strokes but, crucially, never in its minutiae. While foreseeing that arguments, tantrums, rivalries, broken dreams, battling egos, budget woes and behind-the-scenes mishaps will all flow is easy, the particulars, and the whys and hows of what's going on, rarely take the expected route. Indeed, because they've been there, lived that and are now eagerly and warmheartedly satirising it, the Theater Camp crew perfects the art of going specific to get universal. Accordingly, if you were once a budding drama geek as well, prepare to be seen and spoofed but also celebrated. Prepare to be showered in lines, references, costumes, sets and moments that couldn't be more authentic, in fact. If you don't know your Damn Yankees from your Hamilton, though, prepare to plunge into a madcap world that's the epitome of youthful fervour and adult malaise swishing together. Theater Camp mightn't dazzle if it didn't feel so bona fide — and if it didn't so gleefully and visibly love playing around in its very own microcosm, just like children discovering their own place to belong at a theatre camp and actors finding themselves in role after role. Gordon, Platt, Galvin and Lieberman couldn't have better riffed on their favourite time as kids and what might've been if they hadn't found success, or enlisted a more-willing cast. In the crowded mockumentary field, they're also spot-on at cannily deploying the genre's tropes. Watching Theater Camp also means wanting to sit down to see Blackmail and Botox, A Hanukkah Divorce and The Briefcase, The Door & the Salad next. No one can, because they're each purely creations of this very amusing flick; what fun the film's key foursome must've had coming up with those titles alone. Theater Camp is a stage-adoring screen gem that's a lively labour of love and a clear work of fun, too: to lampoon treading the boards, summer camps and the exact place where both meet, and to do so this entertainingly, requires knowing the theatre scene and its training grounds intimately. Wanting to catch The Crucible Jr and even an immersive stage version of Cats (that surely couldn't be worse than 2019's cinema take) — yes, that equally springs from laughing heartily through this ode to performing as a dream, a job, a future, an obsession and a way of life.
As if Melbourne's spring vibes weren't radiant enough, Bourke Street is getting an extra dash of luminance with Luminous at 206 Bourke Street — sure to be a lit celebration of the traditional Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival. Yes, yes, Australia is only in mid-spring, but it's mid-autumn in China. Known alternatively as the Moon Festival or the more mouth-watering Mooncake Festival, it's a global Chinese celebration inspired by — you guessed it — the moon. Over the weekend of Friday, September 29–Sunday, October 1, beats from Chinese Australian musicians will fill the air, while Melbourne-based MCPA Dance will be shimmying around with a traditional Chinese dragon dance. There's more: mooncake giveaways, a game zone with prizes like vouchers and soft toys to be won, lantern-making workshops that'll take you back to crafty primary school days and even a selfie contest. Seriously, snap a pic with the glowing lantern backdrop and you could score some centre cards. Plus, if by any chance you're in the city for the AFL Grand Final (or maybe avoiding it), it's a brilliant way to balance footy fever with some cultural enrichment — and it's all free.
The Langham Melbourne is taking afternoon tea to the next level — the 25th level, to be exact. For nine days during the September school holidays, the venue's Alto Room will host a Barbie afternoon tea. Open to adults for the first time (for which you can probably thank the Barbie movie), it's sure to be a hit with kids at heart as much as kids — plus anyone who doesn't mind a nice cupcake with a stunning view of the Melbourne city skyline. The menu features a variety of sweet treats, all of which are inspired by Barbie and created under the watchful eye of The Langham's Executive Pastry Chef Markus Bohm. There's the red velvet Barbie cupcake, the pink raspberry chocolate lollipop, strawberry macarons and Barbie pink spider shortbread cookies. Of course, no tea party would be complete without scones, with these ones served with rhubarb and raspberry jam. Kids under 12 will also score a bag to take home, which includes a colouring book, pencils and, most importantly, a Barbie doll. Meanwhile, adults will be given a nice glass of sparkling. It's hard to say who gets the better deal here. The Barbie Afternoon Tea is available between 11.30am–1.30pm and 2.30pm–4.30pm from Monday, September 18–Friday, September 22, and then from Monday, September 25–Thursday, September 28. Tickets are $85 for kids and $89 for adults. The Langham will also be hosting a Paddington Bear-themed afternoon tea twice a week in the Aria Lounge at 4pm on Fridays and 10am on Sundays, if talking bears are more your thing.
If you're in or around Collingwood from now until mid-December, you are in prime position to completely submerge into a world of theatrical delight. On Johnston Street, The Austral sets the stage for Love Lust Lost, the latest production from the convention-shattering creative collective Broad Encounters (A Midnight Visit and Maho Magic Bar). Courtesy of the team's sky-high production limits (and creative prowess), you will explore more than 40 spaces across three floors and 1900 square metres during your visit — so you might want to come more than once to discover every nook. You'll set sail into a tumultuous ocean of heartbreak and desire, bravery and passion, led by your captain Hans Christian Andersen. The fairytale great's story is imagined alongside those of Jules Verne and Joseph Conrad, with their intimate worlds brought to life with soundscapes, spoken word, ballet, dance, circus, aerial acrobatics, improv comedy and taste. The true joys of your literary-fuelled adventure exists in the delightfully unknown aspects. Let your curiosity take over as you follow your captain into the storm, chasing each clue and yearning as the mystery unfurls. Now extended thanks to popular demand, you've got until Saturday, December 16 to dive in — and, because immersive theatre is never the same twice, every attendee gets a different experience. Images: Graham Denholm / Jeff Busby.
Trust a movie that's all about connection and pluck to boast plenty itself. The second of cinema's recent father-daughter pictures out of Britain that's directed by a first-time feature filmmaker called Charlotte — the first: Charlotte Wells' Aftersun — Charlotte Regan's Scrapper couldn't be better cast or any more fearless about telling its tale. Starring as 12-year-old Georgie, a pre-teen striving to survive on her own with any help from adults or the authorities after her mum Vicky's (Olivia Brady, The Phantom of the Open) death from cancer, debutant Lola Campbell is an electrifying find. Fresh from playing a model in Triangle of Sadness, Harris Dickinson is now an absent rather than ideal dad, a part that he infuses with equal doses of soul, sorrow, charisma and cheek. And, recognising that she's hardly skipping through new narrative territory, writer/director Regan heaps on character and personality. This is a perky, bright and bubbly take on a kitchen-sink story. There's sadness in 2023's Sundance Film Festival Grand Jury Prize-winner, too, with Scrapper scoring its award in the fest's World Cinema Dramatic Competition. There's anger as well, especially about a society that has Georgie convinced that staying solo in the council flat she lived in with her mother — a space that she's now fastidious about keeping exactly as it was before heartbreak struck — is her top choice. But Regan sees colour amid the grey, plus possibilities alongside struggles. Her view is clear-eyed but never steely. Regan unblinkingly witnesses the realities of working-class existence, yet also spies joy and whimsy, and similarly isn't afraid of getting surreal. This is a flick with talking spiders — cue literal bubbles, of the speech variety — alongside scrapping to get by. Indeed, while Scrapper may owe one of its debts to Sorry We Missed You's Ken Loach, aka England's go-to kitchen-sink filmmaker and one of its all-time directing icons, it also slides in next to Del Kathryn Barton's Blaze. That searing debut had its own 12-year-old protagonist's existence forever altered by witnessing horrific violence, which isn't part of Georgie's plight; however, the Australian feature similarly understood the power of escaping to cope so deeply that unleashing its imagination was always its approach. Both movies pair fantasy with empathy, winningly and resonantly so, knowing that seeking solace from life's worst moments is essential and universal. The two films also want their audiences to take in the world from their lead character's perspectives — which being dreamy and leaning into magical realism couldn't be more crucial to. When she's not maintaining her humble abode as her mum left it — even the couch cushions need to sit in the same place they've always been — Georgie has two key ways of getting by. She makes cash by stealing, repainting and selling bicycles with her friend Ali (fellow newcomer Alin Uzun), with the no-nonsense Zeph (Ambreen Razia, Ted Lasso) her fence. To stop child services from stepping in, she tells them that her uncle Winston Churchill is on guardian duties, using taped snippets of the local convenience store clerk saying pivotal phrases to back her up when anyone official rings. Practical, resourceful, enterprising, resilient: these all fit the resolute adolescent, who is determined to retain as much about her days when her mother was alive as she can. Georgie is well-aware that she's working through the stages of grief, diligently tracking them with Ali, but she's certain that she's found the best way of dealing with her situation. Enter Dickinson's Jason, who drops in with bleached-blonde hair — and by jumping over the back fence — to stay with the daughter that he's never known until now. Georgie is wary and flatout unwelcoming, but she's a kid and he's an adult, which means that he's sticking around regardless of her attitude. From there, of course this is an account of two strangers bonded by only blood initially, then getting to know each other. It's never as formulaic as that setup sounds, though, including by constantly embracing openness and playfulness. When Regan has Georgie and Ali ponder what Jason's real motives might be, for instance, she brings to life their fears that he could be a gangster or a vampire. And, often offering to-camera commentary is the picture's chorus of supporting characters, as shot in Super 16, in another of Scrapper's lively stylistic touches. Strip all of Scrapper's aesthetic flourishes away and it wouldn't be the tender, sincere, charming and creative standout that it is. Its rich and energetic look and feel are that evocative, affecting and indispensable, as aided by talented cinematographer Molly Manning Walker — a director herself, with her own feature debut How to Have Sex also an applauded 2023 release, taking out Cannes Film Festival's Un Certain Regard. But, if Regan had served up a visually and tonally standard movie with the usual grit, Campbell and Dickinson's work would've still been gleamingly exceptional. Their dynamic would've remained unmissable as well. Just like Scrapper's palette and production design, there's nothing black and white about Regan's two main characters, who bound across the screen with their strengths, flaws, joys hopes and disappointments on full display — and also nothing straightforward about their complicated relationship. Not just because this is her first-ever acting credit, Campbell's efforts never read like a performance. Authenticity shines as vividly as the paint adorning the film's central housing estate's outer walls, no matter whether Georgie is clinging to her mum's ways for comfort, mischievously palling around with Ali, pulling off her ploys with confidence or ever-so-slowly warming to Jason. In what's proving a prolific chapter of a burgeoning career that's only going to keep blossoming, The King's Man, The Souvenir: Part II, Where the Crawdads Sing and See How They Run's Dickinson also inhabits the role of a wayward dad returned with lived-in commitment and emotion. There are no scraps in these portrayals, and there's nothing piecemeal about this movie; Scrapper and its upbeat yet unflinching slice-of-life chronicle arrives fully and gloriously formed.
March isn't the only time to celebrate Ireland in Australia. If you're a movie lover who adores the country's talents, landscapes and cinema output, the Irish Film Festival is just as exciting. In 2023 in Melbourne, the fest returns for four days across Thursday, November 2–Sunday, November 5 with its reliably impressive program — this time taking over Cinema Nova. Every film festival is made better when Olivia Colman is involved — and at IFF, the Empire of Light and Heartstopper star is popping up in Joyride, which is penned by Bad Sisters' scribe Ailbhe Keogan. The movie tells of a 12-year-old who flees a difficult home situation in a stolen taxi, only to find a woman passed out in the backseat with a baby. Another massive highlight from the 16-title national program: the Oscar- and BAFTA-winning short An Irish Goodbye, which follows a a young man with Down's Syndrome and his brother when they discover their recently deceased mother's bucket list. Also among the fest's must-sees is opening film Lakelands, which dives into rural sport, masculinity and isolation. Or, there's It Is in Us All, which earned Special Jury Recognition for Extraordinary Cinematic Vision at SXSW; Róise & Frank, about a widow who believes that her late husband's spirit has returned via a stray dog; and North Circular, a music documentary that celebrates Dublin's North Circular Road. Documentary Lyra pays tribute journalist Lyra McKee, who was shot during rioting in Derry, with the film arriving four years since her death and 25 years since of Northern Ireland's Good Friday peace agreement. IFF will also include an online component to this year's fest, as it has been doing since the pandemic hit. If you're keen to watch Lakelands, It Is in Us All and Róise & Frank from home — and more — get streaming from Thursday, October 5–Sunday, November 5.
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.
UPDATE, December 22, 2023: Foe streams via Prime Video from Friday, January 5, 2024. Pondering the end of the earth also means pondering the end of people. When the planet that we live on withers to the point of becoming uninhabitable, humanity doesn't just suffer big-picture consequences as a species — existentially, the basic facets of being human are upended as well. So explores and interrogates Foe, the haunting third feature from Australian director Garth Davis (Lion, Mary Magdalene), as well as the latest adaptation of Canadian author Iain Reid's books after 2020 movie I'm Thinking of Ending Things. The pair teamed up to pen the script to a dystopian thriller that looks every inch the stark sci-fi part, using Victoria's Winton Wetlands as its shooting location to double for America's midwest circa 2065, and yet is always one thing above all else: like Killers of the Flower Moon, too, this is a relationship drama. In his third film to reach Australian cinemas in 2023, his second since earning an Oscar nomination for Aftersun and also one of two in a row made Down Under alongside Carmen, Paul Mescal plays half of Foe's key couple opposite his Irish compatriot (plus Atonement, Brooklyn, Lady Bird and Little Women Academy Award-nominee) Saoirse Ronan. The pair trade their natural lilts for American accents as Junior and Hen, holdout farmers in a world and at a time where there's little hope in the field, their actual fields or for the future. As a title card explains, days on the third rock from the sun are numbered. Also noted in that opening text is the setup moving forward, relocating the population to space stations. And, as Blade Runner did decades ago and The Creator — which is also set in 2065 — adopted just this year, simulated humans are also entwined in this new status quo. Junior and Hen's marriage is one of lived-in routine, concise exchanges and loaded looks — of resignation and malaise, in fact, with life's realities tampering down the high-school sweethearts' spirits mere years into their wedded bliss. He works at a poultry factory, she waits tables at a diner, and the bleak expanse surrounding their farmhouse sports rows of symbolism; Foe's central couple cling to the wish that the inherited land and their love alike hasn't turned fallow, no matter the signs otherwise. With such barrenness lingering, car lights outside their home one night and then a sharp knock at the door were always going to feel like more than just an ordinary visitor. The cause is anything but an average passerby: he's government consultant Terrance (Aaron Pierre, Old), who has come with conscription orders for the OuterMore project, which is building the off-world installation that earth's residents will soon need to live on. Like young men before him forced to wage war, Junior doesn't have a choice in the plans to send him to space. With Hen, he also has no say in the next two crucial pieces of information that the calm-yet-commanding Terrance imparts: only Junior is going, but a simulant will take his place, not only looking and sounding but behaving exactly like him, so that Hen isn't left alone. The pair are told that they have around two years to adjust to this news, and that Terrance will eventually come to live with them as that departure date shuffles closer. Swiftly, the dust storms outside have another threat as a source of swirling tension and visible upheaval. In an already-fraying marriage and with an increasingly slipping sense of control, neither Junior nor Hen is pleased about their twist of fate, understandably — but enjoying what they have takes on added urgency. Even if two of Ireland's best current actors can't share their native tones in Foe, they share the screen with shimmering potency, selling every iota of emotion felt by their characters. Whether only coming to fame in 2020 with Normal People or demanding attention since being a 13-year-old stealing scenes in a BAFTA Best Picture-winner — so, each breaking out in highly anticipated and widely applauded page-to-screen adaptations — Mescal and Ronan keep proving themselves spectacular acting talents, which isn't different here. Both are supremely skilled at being silently, subtly and naturalistically expressive, and so at conveying interiority. Under Davis' guidance, that means cycling through hurt, anger, uncertainty, yearning, surprise, betrayal, affection and hope as Junior and Hen grapple with the full spreadh of responses to their situation, and also navigate the remnants of their long-festering romance. Each giving deeply felt performances that could swell through several countryside abodes, they bring to mind another great on-screen coupling that also tore into marital melancholy: Kate Winslet (Ronan's co-star in Ammonite) and Leonardo DiCaprio (Killers of the Flower Moon) in 2008's Revolutionary Road. Pierre, too, more than holds up his role as the third point in Foe's acting triangle. Ahead of becoming the voice of Mufasa in upcoming The Lion King sequel Mufasa: The Lion King — which reunites him with filmmaker Barry Jenkins after The Underground Railroad — he finds the ideal balance of enigmatic and intimidating in a movie that's all about shifts big and small. As Pierre's star rises, which it is destined to and fast, this will remain one of his essential performances. Adding to the excellent work all-round is cinematographer Mátyás Erdély (The Nest), who sees the landscape as surreal, foreboding and dreamy all at once. While Foe's backdrop might look like Australia if you're aware that it is, but devoid any ochre dirt and standard outback sights, it also blazes as lonely terrain that's as thorny and knotty as its animal, plant and human occupants. It could seem ambitious, getting desolate yet heatedly psychological and emotional in Black Mirror-esque environmental sci-fi-meets-AI territory, but Davis and Reid know what Charlie Brooker always has as well: that tales about where the future leads, and the technology it inspires with it, are nothing if they're not actually about people. Although within Foe sits a question about whether accepting and embracing AI replacements for our nearest and dearest is ever possible, what it means to live and love, to work out who we are and want to be, and to grow and progress — with or without tech — is hardwired into this affecting film. This is a movie about how people change and evolve, especially within relationships; how that change and evolution both responds to the climes and occurs regardless of it; and how it can happen together or individually, complete with the heartbreak when the latter applies. Aptly, then, it's an evocative, stirring and exceptionally acted feature that morphs in hindsight the more that's revealed on-screen, poignantly so.
