The Guinness World Book of Records has some pretty obscure (and oddly specific) entries. The longest distance keeping a table lifted with teeth and the most swallowed sword are really just a scratch on the surface of this weird things people will put themselves through in pursuit of a record. This year will be the year that Sydney gets in on the action – through drinking beer. On Friday, August 1, beer blogger The Beer Pilgrim will be hosting a free beer tasting session, in the hope of attaining the coveted title of 'largest beer tasting in a single venue', in commemoration of International Beer Day. The current record is held in Santa Anita Park in California with a total of 322 participants. In an attempt to outdo this record, the first 350 arrivals between 6pm-7pm will be privy to their own tasting paddle with three local and international beers. All for free! The competition will be held in Ivy Sunroom: Level 3, 330 George Street. Because if there's one thing Australian's take great pride in - it’s the consumption of beer. Lots and lots of beer.
With its shadowy aesthetic and soundscape of screeching and whispering, Deliver Us from Evil immediately displays all the typical horror trappings — and its familiarity only continues. Writer/director Scott Derrickson and his frequent co-scribe Paul Harris Boardman may adapt Ralph Sarchie and Lisa Collier Cool's non-fiction tale Beware the Night, yet the history of the frightening on film is just as influential. Think: flickering lights, difficulties with children and animals, creepy incantations, mental institutions, and even an off-putting jack-in-the-box. Add: literal manifestations of obvious themes, with no subtlety necessary. New York City detective Sarchie (Eric Bana) prowls the streets with his partner Butler (Joel McHale), their undercover operations drawn to particular calls by intuition. One instance links to other unusual reports: a domestic violence case connecting to a woman who threw her baby into a lion's den and then a family living in fear of ominous happenings in their basement. Their otherworldly elements are easily dismissed until Sarchie teams up with Mendoza (Edgar Ramirez), a Castilian priest well versed in the occult, sparking a battle of beliefs on multiple levels. Try as the feature might to capitalise upon a pedigree that includes a true story about a lawman turned demonologist, plus a filmmaker experienced in both the paranormal (as helmer of Sinister and The Exorcism of Emily Rose) and procedural (as writer of Devil's Knot), everything about Deliver Us From Evil dwells in by-the-numbers territory. As the narrative lurches through a convoluted web of grim discoveries in alleyways, it remains a predictable pastiche of the genre. Indeed, the blunt audio and visual cues that smack viewers in the face at the outset prove the lesser of the film's sins, evoking an on-edge atmosphere that is instantly let down by the uninspired content. Derrickson and Boardman divide their time between two odd couplings with care for neither, each character — the brooding cop, his wisecracking off-sider, and the solemn man of faith — constrained by broad categorisations. The same cursory treatment is given to Sarchie's unhappy wife (Olivia Munn) and precocious daughter (Lulu Wilson), with both mere emotional fodder. That the majority of performances are similarly rote is unsurprising, though Ramirez stands out as the sole source of texture among the blandness. When the moment everyone has been waiting for finally comes after too much mood-building filler, Deliver Us from Evil dispenses an impressive and extended exorcism scene; however, the flash of sound and fury might not bring too little, but it is too late to erase the film's unremarkable bulk. The dreariness of its derivation just can't be overcome, nor does the film seem to want to. Instead, it wallows in suspension-of-logic, check-the-box horror of the flimsiest order. https://youtube.com/watch?v=eDZaImYSvm0
Sweden's recent electro music success is enough to believe the likes of Lykke Li, Robyn, The Knife, Swedish House Mafia, Avicii, Adrian Lux and Rebecca & Fiona all hang out with each other, and swap industry tips over fika. Groups such as Little Dragon, however, have developed an international following with records characterised by smoothly evocative lyrics. Their self-proclaimed 'global sound' is experimental and consistently enjoyable. Their latest album, Nubuma Rubberband, is absolutely worth a listen. Hitting up Oxford Art Factory with one of the week's most anticipated gigs, Little Dragon have now sold out every last ticket for the night without breaking a sweat. https://youtube.com/watch?v=UM--TtkGNa4
Film and television aficionados take note — Tropfest Roughcut is back for its fourth instalment and should not be missed (particularly if you're thinking of entering your own short for Tropfest 2015). Featuring actors, directors, producers and comedians, the eclectic lineup of speakers will discuss creativity on the big and small screens. They will provide valuable insight to all interested in the industry, especially those looking to crack it. Headlining the list of industry heavyweight guest speakers will be director Alex Proyas, best known for I, Robot (2004) and cult classic The Crow (1994) and currently working on the much-anticipated blockbuster Gods of Egypt with Geoffrey Rush. Joining Proyas are Australian actor John Jarratt of Wolf Creek fame, motion picture stills photographer Jasin Boland (The Matrix, Mad Max: Fury Road, Skyfall), comedian and crowdfunder Dan Ilic and Triple J's regular film critic Marc Fennell, who will MC the event. With a mix of conversation, networking and panel discussions, it is no wonder that tickets are selling fast. Buy yours now to be ready for when Tropfest entries open on August 13.
The Effect is a romantic comedy about a boy and a girl with instant chemistry. That sentence is true, but The Effect is also a contemporary 'issue play', where the boy and girl's bodily chemistry is being experimented on, and the very nature of our knowledge about mental health is under the microscope. From Lucy Prebble (the UK writer behind Enron and TV's Secret Diary of a Call Girl), the clever, warm and hyper-relevant play is a response to something her country and ours have in common: the rise of psychotropic medications. Antidepressant use has risen by about 10 percent per year since 1998, the program tells us, when not only is it still a fairly fledgling science but the self-interest of big pharmaceutical companies is skewing our progress in the field. The arguments are fought overtly by the conflicted Dr James (Angie Milliken) and her supervisor, Toby (Eugene Gilfedder), who are conducting a drug trial in which subjects are given increasing dosages over several weeks. It's there that buttoned-up psychology student Connie (Anna McGahan) meets scruffy free spirit Tristan (Mark Leonard Winter from Thyestes), while each is holding their pee cups — a meet-cute if ever there was one. Their attraction grows with each passing day in the isolated facility, but Connie resists. Not only is sexual contact verboten during the trial, she's worried it's the mood-elevating drug that's causing the flirtation, not their real feelings. Dr James isn't happy either; she's worried it's the flirtation that's elevating the duo's moods, not the drug she's testing. Props to Prebble — where this tangled web leads after intermission is completely unpredictable. Like that ex you're hung up on, this script is charming, funny and ultimately a heartbreaker. Prebble does great work in a fairly unforgiving style of drama that can so easily get didactic or contrived. And while the false dichotomy set up between the positions of Dr James and Toby can be frustrating, it's also eye-opening. Did you know 'chemical imbalance' is just one, contested hypothesis about the cause of mental illness? That's a pretty important bit of knowledge I owe to Prebble's Dr James, who thinks it'll be the 20th century's four humors. Director Sarah Goodes has put on a clear and energising staging here, bringing out four completely seductive performances from the actors. It's pretty easy to fall in love with both McGahan as Connie and Winter as Tristan (a key factor missing from so many rom-coms). The set — a clinical, reflective room positioned around a giant lightbox by designer Renee Mulder — is an appropriate space said to be inspired by the work of optical trickster Olafur Eliasson. It only seems to get the chance to fulfill this ambition on a couple of occasions, however, and also plays its part in some less-than-smooth transitions. On top of its generally good execution, The Effect is just a great piece of programming. It's the sort of theatre that can speak to a wide audience, about an issue that's touched nearly everyone. Also, and there's never an appropriate place to say this but: the STC programs are the very best around. This one includes a glossary, a contemporary Australian love poem and a medical history essay by science journalist Wendy Zukerman — all wonderfully interesting. Get one when you go.
When someone asks where the party at, Motorik answer. The Sydney-based dance collective and record label are known around the traps for throwing the most outrageous of raves in secret locations. After three years of warm-ups and killer releases, they're ready to get epic for their third birthday this Saturday at a 'secret base location'. With the 15th release coming up for the label — a casual facemelter of an EP from The Presets' K.I.M — and their own show on the brand new FBi Click, Motorik have a bunch of reasons to get messy. They've also released the next instalment of their 'Under the Influences' mixtape series with K.I.M, streaming over here. Andrew Santamaria from Motorik took us through his top five tracks to gear you up for Motorik's epic birthday bash right here.
Throughout October, Barangaroo House will transform into a haven for rosé enthusiasts with its free-to-enter, month-long celebration of pink plonk hot on the heels of its martini festival in September. This lively venue features three distinct levels, each offering a unique experience steeped in the rosy-hued drop Sydneysiders cannot get enough of. Smoke, a Barangaroo House's popular rooftop bar, pairs stunning Sydney sunsets with refreshing tipples like the much-beloved Whispering Angel, a crisp French Provence rosé, or the enticing Pink Sunset cocktail—a spirghtly mix of Bombay Sapphire gin, house-made rosé, and rhubarb liquor, crowned with citrus and berry garnishes. For an added thrill, try the Blush and Burn shot, infused with strawberry and creamy coconut, alongside delectable bites like smoked ocean trout on mini brioche. On the middle floor, Rekōdo exudes urban energy with its Japanese-inspired decor and a vinyl soundtrack. Guests can sip Veuve Clicquot rosé and enjoy cocktail specials like the Kyoto Kiss—an effervescent blend starring Aperol and berries. At weekends, the Jukebox Bottomless experience beckons, allowing patrons to request songs while indulging in a lavish menu that includes prawn crackers and strawberry fried ice cream. At ground level, House Bar offers a moment of chilled-out vibes with its waterfront views. Here, Chandon Rosé bubbles and frosé flow freely, complemented by playful dishes like pink Skull Island prawn bao buns. As the sun sets, DJs will be spinning tunes, ensuring that each level pulses with vibrant energy, inviting guests to sip, savour, and celebrate their favourite pink drink all month long.
Once upon a time, this spot was a craft beer bar specialising in Sunday roasts. Since changing hands in 2023, Taphouse has offered a space for approachable yet creative drinks, fresh takes on suburban Cantonese-style bites and special signature dishes. One of those signature dishes, the spice bag, a viral pinnacle of Irish-Chinese fusion cuisine, debuted on St Patrick's Day to massive popularity. Now it's getting the spotlight in a new regular menu offering: Sunday Shenanigans. This weekly set menu celebrates Irish-Chinese food in all the best ways. The Taphouse's take on the Irish-Chinese delicacy is available to purchase all week for $21. Or, it's a tempting deal to book Sunday Shenanigans for $34pp. That will get you a feast of prawn crackers, vegetarian spring rolls, salt and pepper fries, egg fried rice, chilli chicken, sweet and sour chicken and a healthy portion of McDonnell's Curry Sauce—mandatory for the true Irish-Chinese food experience. Drinks-wise, you can pair the feast with $12 pints of Guinness or a five-spice bloody mary made with your choice of vodka, gin or tequila, Taphouse Spice Mix, tomato juice, coriander, cucumber and lemon for $15. To book a seat at Sunday Shenanigans, visit the Taphouse website.
In 2022, The Strokes and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were meant to share the same Splendour in the Grass bill. Karen O's band didn't make it to what became Splendour in the Mud, but the two groups have shared plenty before — and for decades. Their maps have overlapped since pre-9/11 New York, when both were formed in the turn-of-the-millennium indie-rock wave, then surfed it to success and worldwide fame. Both The Strokes and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were born of the Lower East Side pre-gentrification. Both spun in the same orbit as late-90s saccharine pop and Y2K nu-metal rock gave way to electrifying guitar riffs and an explosive sound that'd become a whole scene. Both are led by charismatic singers who came alive onstage, but also found chaos and challenges. Alongside Interpol, LCD Soundsystem, The Moldy Peaches, The Rapture and TV on the Radio, both now sit at the heart of documentary Meet Me in the Bathroom. Based on Lizzy Goodman's 2017 book Meet Me in the Bathroom, an oral history that focuses on exactly what its subtitle says it does — Rebirth and Rock and Roll in New York City 2001–2011 — this is a fond look back at bands setting the room on fire and rolling heads as one century gave way to the next. While the film isn't about just one or two groups, it returns to The Strokes and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs again and again, and not simply because they're two of the early 00s' biggest NYC post-punk, garage-rock revival names. Listening to The Strokes' first record, 2001's Is This It, is a jolt and a buzz. With Julian Casablancas behind the microphone, it thrums and hums with the energy of hopping between bars, gigs and parties, and with the thrill of a heady night, week, month, year and just being in your 20s. Hearing O's voice is galvanising — intoxicating as well — and has been since the Yeah Yeah Yeah's self-titled EP, also in 2001. It's no wonder that directors Will Lovelace and Dylan Southern just want to keep listening, and also inhabiting that vibe. Meet Me in the Bathroom jumps around like a mixtape — or, befitting the period, like illicit tunes acquired by Napster and LimeWire, tools that aren't irrelevant to this story. Before technology changed the radio star again, making global fandom easier, better, faster and stronger, the movie's bands had to come to fruition in the first place, however. Lovelace and Southern start with images of the Manhattan skyline, and of New York's subway system. They hero Andy Warhol, Lou Reed and Blondie, ticking through New York icon after New York icon. They position The Strokes, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and company's arrival as the next step and, by using such familiar NYC mainstays, they mark Meet Me in the Bathroom's key players as era-defining legends who were always going be legends. Before this, Lovelace and Southern's best-known film was Shut Up and Play the Hits. In that James Murphy-centric doco about what was then LCD Soundsystem's last gig at Madison Square Garden and in this alike, the directing duo are patently enamoured with their subjects. That doesn't dampen or discount Meet Me in the Bathroom's passion and insights, not for a second — but the film is preaching to the long ago-converted rather initiating 00s-period indie-rock newcomers. There's a wistfulness beyond nostalgia to the movie as well that's a few strums away from being out of tune. The years have passed, naturally. It'll never be the advent of the 21st century again, short of time-travelling DeLoreans or phone booths. Still, The Strokes' last album arrived in 2020, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Interpol released new records in 2022; they're all still together and still touring. In a counterpoint to Meet Me in the Bathroom's confidence that this talent in this town was always going to lead to this tale, The Moldy Peaches' Adam Green voices early doubts: "I remember thinking maybe New York isn't the kind of city anymore that produces iconic bands." The film wouldn't exist if the names it surveys hadn't made their mark, of course, and helped ensure their scene made a mark. Viewers know that going in, but watching the process via archival footage, home movies and gig snippets from the time, much of it handheld and atmospheric — and hearing from Casablancas, O, Murphy, Green, Interpol's Paul Banks and more — is as immersive and transporting as Lovelace and Southern want it to be. A like-you're-there sensation kicks in; Casablancas looking so fresh-faced assists, plus O talking through how fronting a band helped her work out who she was. (Her comment that there were no women in rock leading the way beforehand aren't as spot-on.) O is a fascinating, mesmerising, don't-want-to-look-away point of Meet Me in the Bathroom's focus. The movie does peer elsewhere, but the audience wants it to swiftly return. Her transformation from a quiet girl with an acoustic guitar from New Jersey to a rock goddess doesn't just feel fated, but earned. Her honesty, especially when chatting about the solace from racism and sexism she sought in music, then the treatment that women in rock receive, is pivotal to making Meet Me in the Bathroom more than a vivid effort to revisit a time, place, mood and scene. Also, her candour sits in contrast to Casablancas, who the doco gravitates towards as the world did, but conveys most of what he's going to by saying little. The bigger The Strokes get, the less comfortable he is. And, given that everything in the film's frames comes from back in the day, that's without Casablancas knowing that two decades later this documentary would take its name from a track from The Strokes' second album. Affectionate, in the moment, revealing, reverent: Meet Me in the Bathroom hits all of those notes. It also covers much, from Y2K predictions to 9/11 and its aftermath, sweaty club shows to internet-enabled album leaks, and whirlwind tours through to struggling to get deals and records out. With editors Andrew Cross (Ronaldinho: The Happiest Man in the World) and Sam Rice-Edwards (Whitney), Lovelace and Southern structure the film by feel more than anything else. There's a timeline to this time capsule, but in flitting from one band to the next and back again, choosing where to linger — including an indulgent midsection spent charting Murphy's switch from producer to LCD Soundsystem frontman — and picking what to leave out, mood seems the biggest influence. That's music, though, as anyone who has happily lost themselves to The Strokes and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs on a heaving dance floor or among a jostling festival crowd knows, as does Meet Me in the Bathroom.
David Attenborough's nature documentaries are acclaimed and beloved viewing, including when they're recreating dinosaurs. Family-friendly fare adores cute critters, especially if they're talking as in The Lion King and Paddington movies. The horror genre also loves pushing animals to the front, with The Birds and Jaws among its unsettling masterpieces. Earth's creatures great and small are all around us on-screen, and also off — but in EO, a donkey drama by Polish filmmaker Jerzy Skolimowski (11 Minutes), humanity barely cares. The people in this Oscar-nominated mule musing might watch movies about pets and beasts. They may have actively shared parts of their own lives existence the animal kingdom; some, albeit only a rare few, do attempt exactly that with this flick's grey-haired, white-spotted, wide-eyed namesake. But one of the tragedies at the heart of this astonishing adventure is also just a plain fact of life on this pale blue dot while homo sapiens reign supreme: that animals are everywhere all the time but hardly anyone notices. EO notices. Making his first film in seven years, and co-writing with his wife and producer Ewa Piaskowska (Essential Killing), Skolimowski demands that his audience pays attention. This is both an episodic slice-of-life portrait of EO the donkey's days and a glimpse of the world from his perspective — sometimes, the glowing and gorgeous cinematography by Michal Dymek (Wolf) takes in the Sardinian creature in all his braying, trotting, carrot-eating glory; sometimes, it takes on 'donkey vision', which is just as mesmerising to look at. Skolimowski gets inspiration from Robert Bresson's 1966 feature Au Hasard Balthazar, too, a movie that also follows the life of a hoofed, long-eared mammal. Like that French great, EO sees hardship much too often for its titular creature; however, even at its most heartbreaking, it also spies an innate, immutable circle of life. It's amid strobing red lights that EO makes his debut, and in the embrace and safekeeping of the doting Kasandra (Sandra Drzymalska, Mental) at a travelling Polish circus. They perform, but they're also the best of friends beyond the big top, a bond that she doesn't ever want to end. Alas, swiftly after EO starts, protests engulf the donkey's home, with animal-rights campaigners striking and the troupe's management going bankrupt. Sold off with the other critters, the mule will meet his gentle and kind human pal again, but the movie's tale from here has almost as many strands as EO's own tail — including as he traverses the Polish and Italian countryside, complete with stints at a horse stable, a farm, wandering free, avoiding hunters, maybe bringing good luck to a local football team, definitely enraging their opposition, being accompanied by a young priest and more. After EO's liberation, the change of scenery doesn't initially seem too troubling or taxing. His next abode gets a fancy opening ceremony with dignitaries cutting ribbons, and gifts him a bountiful carrot necklace — the literal kind. But when he's startled by horses and knocks over a display stacked with trophies, he's moved on. There, he's offered just one chunky vegetable and appears despondent. Next comes a reunion, an opportune escape, the forest by night, feuding soccer clubs and awful violence, plus an animal hospital, a fur factory, the meat trade, a lonely truck driver (Mateusz Kosciukiewicz, Magnesium), that man of the cloth (Lorenzo Zurzolo, Under the Amalfi Sun) and a countess (Isabelle Huppert, Mrs Harris Goes to Paris) in a red dress in an Italian mansion. EO is also seen by spiders, frogs, owls, foxes and a Black Mirror-style robot dog. He canters across landscape sometimes left in its natural state, and sometimes blighted by humanity's footprint. And, while moseying through a town, he stops to neigh at fish in an aquarium. As with everything in EO's frames, that moment of communion between mule and goldfish is visually and emotionally striking. It also says oh-so much about Skolimowski's determination to let his eponymous critter just be an animal — more than that, about his success at achieving that feat, and also why. Viewers can read into EO's staring towards the glassed-in fish, and his braying, as an exchange between different types of creatures controlled by humans. The audience can also take it as a comment on the cages that people place around the animal kingdom, and how rare it is for them to be free of such influence. Or, it can be observed as simply a donkey reacting randomly because that's what a donkey, and all life, often does. The broader movie itself operates in the same fashion. It serves up ebbs and flows where one thing happens, then another, then more still, while so clearly and movingly knowing that that's just how being alive goes, and also always witnessing how EO's story takes the path it does because of humanity's dominance over the natural world. EO might boast the incomparable Huppert among its cast, but its stars to whinny about are Tako, Hola, Marietta, Ettore, Rocco and Mela. Skolimowski thanked them each by name when the movie shared the 2022 Cannes Film Festival's Jury Prize — coming in only behind Palme d'Or-winner Triangle of Sadness, then Grand Prix-recipients Close and Stars at Noon — and the care and notice that the veteran Le Départ, Deep End and The Shout filmmaker gave on the Croisette to the six donkeys who play EO is mirrored on-screen. This wouldn't and couldn't be so emotive, immersive and absorbing a film as it is if it didn't truly bask in its mules' presence with pure affection. For the feature's 87 minutes, this is their world, and EO's. For that running time, viewers see EO's donkey protagonist as animals are so scarcely seen: as everything, no matter the good and bad turns that come their way, and the life-and-death course they chart as we all do; as heroes in their own story, too. As a piece of contemplation about the relationship between humans and life around us, EO also brings documentary Gunda to mind. It's just as revelatory and wrenching as that dialogue-free, black-and-white farmyard doco — but, as set to an ever-changing, sometimes-pulsating score by Paweł Mykietyn (a veteran of Skolimowski's 11 Minutes and Essential Killing), it firmly makes the most of its sounds and colours. Everything clashes and crashes around EO, hues, textures, noises, tunes, camera angles and vantage points among them. In one especially stunning scene with an entrancing beat, the donkey scampers through and observes the woodland, green lasers from gunsights beaming bright in the dark of night against the leafiness and its inhabitants. The effect is otherworldly, as is the entirety of this haunting and touching film as it peers at life so often ignored, undervalued and exploited on this very earth.
Has the Easter long weekend snuck up on you? If you are yet to make plans but are looking to fill your extra days off with some very good live music, Waywards above The Bank in Newtown has you covered with three packed nights of music. Each night's lineup focuses on a different genre, kicking off with a hip hop showcase on Thursday, April 6. Commence your four-day break with some of the most exciting acts coming out of Australia's hip hop community right now, headed up by the one and only Mulalo. If the Naarm (Melbourne) rapper isn't on your radar yet she will be soon, with instantly unforgettable tracks like 'Tracy Grimshaw' making huge waves. Joining Mulalo will be Caucasian Opportunities, Carolina Gasolina, Flywaves, Kymie and VV Pete. Come Saturday, the vibe will shift towards nostalgic 2000s dance hits with a lineup of crowd-pleasing DJs arriving at Waywards. Leading the way is Discovery, Australia's highly convincing Daft Punk tribute show which will be rolling out all the hits of the French house/electronica luminaries. Also on the lineup is Sydney nightclub mainstay Jaime Doom of legendary troupe BangGang and local DJ Deckhead. Rounding out the long weekend festival is a double-whammy of indie delights with alt-pop gems Clews performing alongside Canberra's Sesame Girl on Sunday, April 9. Entry is free all weekend. Start getting into the zone with a quick hit of Mulalo now: Top image: Destination NSW
There's only one Nicolas Cage, and long may he keep filling our screens with every kind of movie imaginable. After four decades in the business, his resume really is that vast. When he's not running around with a chainsaw, he's singing Elvis songs for David Lynch. Cage has proven a comedic genius for the Coen brothers, dabbled with Marvel in two different ways despite never appearing in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, wordlessly fought demonic animatronics, swapped faces with John Travolta, gotten speedy before the Fast and Furious saga existed and taken to the skies with criminals, too. Oh, and he's acted opposite himself in Adaptation — and also played himself in The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent. Naming Nicolas Cage films is almost as fun as watching them. Prepare to utter plenty at Sydney's latest excuse to worship an acting talent like no other. If you know which famous director Cage is related to, which flick gave him his first big-screen gig, how many Oscars he has, the number of Razzie nominations he's notched up, and his IRL ties to Elvis and Superman, rejoice — Nicolas Cage Trivia is for you. Taking place from 6.30pm on Wednesday, April 5 at The Edinburgh Castle in Pitt Street, this quiz isn't for casual Cage fans. That said, there's nothing casual about adoring the man who ran around thinking he's a bloodsucker in Vampire's Kiss, and will next play Dracula in Renfield. Entry is free, with all those times you've rewatched Con Air, Face/Off, Moonstruck and Mandy about to come in mighty handy.
Single O is turning 20, and to celebrate two decades of caffeinating Sydneysiders, it's hosting a birthday party at its Surry Hills cafe. As part of the celebrations, the Single O team has put together a special coffee menu featuring standout beans and blends, and it's created a special one-off birthday blend. Anyone who purchases the limited-time blend will go into the draw to win one of 20 trips to stay in an Unyoked cabin. On top of all of this, the team will also run a free coffee giveaway for just 20 minutes. Mark Thursday, March 16 in your calendar, as that's when the inner-city cafe will be marking cups of joe all the down to $0. You'll have to get down between 9–9.20am if you want to take advantage of the deal. For 20 minutes, Single O will have its self-serve on-tap batch brew and iced oat latte on offer, so you can swing in and serve yourself a complimentary coffee. All of the espresso-based menu will also be on the house for these 20 minutes, with extra baristas being brought in on the day in order to get through as many cappuccinos and almond flat whites as possible before the clock strikes 9.20am. There's no booking or registration required, just head down to Reservoir Street and hop in line for a dose of free Single O.
Talk about a perfect name: if you're going to start a new music festival that revolves around The Smashing Pumpkins, then calling it The World Is a Vampire is a no-brainer. This exciting addition to Australia's festival scene is being sent to drain all of your attention this autumn, when it heads around the country with one helluva bill. Billy Corgan and his band members will be there, of course, and so will fellow alt-rock legends Jane's Addiction. Naturally, you can expect the rollicking classic that is 'Bullet with Butterfly Wings' to get a spin. As well as hearing fellow Pumpkins greats such as 'Disarm', '1979', 'Tonight, Tonight', 'Today' and 'Zero', the Perry Farrell-led Jane's Addiction will be on hand to bust out 'Been Caught Stealing', 'Jane Says' and the likes. How many 'Zero' shirts will you see at the fest? Oh so many, as at every Pumpkins gig. Also on the bill: Australia's own Amyl and The Sniffers, RedHook and Battlesnake, plus yet-to-be-announced local acts opening each stop. And this fest has stops. It'll be singing about rage and rats in cages at Sydney's Hordern Pavilion on Tuesday, April 18 and Wednesday, April 19, alongside trips to Penrith, Newcastle and Wollongong. Each show also features professional wrestling, including matches between Billy Corgan's NWA (National Wrestling Alliance) and the WAOA (Wrestling Alliance of Australia). Wrestlers will take to the ring in-between the bands — and yes, Corgan does own the alliance that bears his name.
If your resolutions for 2023 involve being your best self in the kitchen, this year keeps bringing folks Australia's way who can definitely help. First, Israeli chef Yotam Ottolenghi made his way around the country on a speaking tour. In May, Britain's Marco Pierre White is doing the same. And, also the same month, the one and only Nigella Lawson will enjoy her latest visit Down Under. Dubbed An Evening with Nigella Lawson, this tour will see the television and cookbook favourite chat through her culinary secrets — and food in general, her life and career, and more. If you're the kind of person who starts plotting your next meal before you've even finished the last, or loves eating more than anything else, Lawson's visit will help get right to the guts of your food obsession. And, the two Sydney events at the State Theatre on Sunday, May 21 — at 2pm and 7.30pm — will also feature a Q&A component so that you can ask Lawson whatever you've always wanted to yourself. Even when she isn't answering audience questions, Lawson will have plenty to cover — she has a hefty pile of cookbooks to her name, starting with 1998's How to Eat: Pleasures and Principles of Good Food and including 2020's Nigella's Cook, Eat, Repeat. When she hasn't been filling our bookshelves with recipes, she's been whipping through them on TV, too, on everything from Nigella Bites, Nigella Feasts, Nigella Kitchen and Nigellissima through to Simply Nigella and Nigella: At My Table. And, she's been popping up on Top Chef, MasterChef Australia and My Kitchen Rules as well.
Across two seasons in 2016 and 2018, Fleabag was the only dramedy that mattered. If you weren't watching Phoebe Waller-Bridge's smash hit, you were hearing all about it from everyone you knew. If you were watching it, you were then rewatching it — and, of course, telling all of your friends. But before it was a hit TV series, Fleabag was a one-woman theatre show. That history behind Phoebe Waller-Bridge's award-winning series isn't new news, of course. As the television version of Fleabag kept picking up accolades — a BAFTA for Best Female Performance in a Comedy for its writer/creator/star; Emmys for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Comedy Series, Outstanding Comedy Series, Outstanding Directing for a Comedy Series and Outstanding Writing for a Comedy Series; Best Actress and Best Television Series Golden Globes; and a Screen Actors Guild Award for Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Comedy Series among them — that past was well-known. But if you haven't seen the OG stage production, a recorded version of that stunning performance is coming back to the big screen in Sydney. The story remains the same, charting an incredibly relatable tale of trying to balance work, life, love and the like. When it was playing theatres from 2013–2019 after premiering at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Fleabag was just as applauded. And, as plenty of hit UK productions are, it was filmed by NT Live, then beamed into cinemas. It's that recording that's heading to picture palaces again from July 13, complete with Waller-Bridge stepping through the story of Fleabag's titular character. Captured at London's Wyndham's Theatre, it initially started doing the rounds for filmgoers in 2019. Indeed, that debut silver-screen stint broke box-office records. If you're unfamiliar with the TV show, let alone the theatre production before it, Fleabag's existence is perhaps best described as chaotic. Friends, family, job interviews, keeping a guinea pig-themed cafe afloat — they're just the beginning. The idea behind it came at one of Waller-Bridge's pal's storytelling nights, as a challenge to create a character for a ten-minute slot. Images: Matt Humphrey.
The Rover is the inconspicuous Foster Street bar spotlighting good booze, friendly service and a tight seafood-leaning bistro menu from the talented team behind The Gidley and Bistecca. And, throughout Vivid Sydney, it's serving up an exclusive set menu to ensure you're deliciously fuelled before your dazzling city explorations. From Tuesday to Saturday, from 5pm, you and your party can dine from a bespoke set menu designed by the culinary team. For $80 per person, you'll enjoy a lineup of favourites from the menu. You can expect all the oceanic influences across British-bistro style plates the spot's known for — a bountiful seafood plate, fish of the day and veg-heavy sides. There'll be the house-made eel pâté too, the salty spread primed to top glazed crumpets that's quickly become a fave among Rover regulars. The Rover is less than five minutes on foot from Central Station, meaning if you want to venture further than the Hollywood Precinct, you're fantastically placed to do so. Pick a date, plan your night and book yourself a table, Sydneysiders. PSA: dietary requests can be accommodated with enough notice. Hollywood Quarter's The Rover will be offering a pre-Vivid meal from Tuesday–Saturday until Saturday, June 17. For more information, head to the website.
In the National Art School's quest to make art accessible and engaging for all, it birthed the monthly event NAS NEO. The free after-hours event brings together live music, food and drinks, and art of every kind — with a particular emphasis on interactivity. Head to the staggering sandstone-walled venue on Thursday, June 8 for the next iteration, On Print, which celebrates a broad range of print techniques via workshops, drag performances and exhibitions. The headline act for the first winter NAS NEO is Battlesnake, the psychedelic rockers who supported KISS on their recent tour Down Under. Catch their hits like 'I Am the Vomit' and 'Nightmare King' on your arty weeknight. Sticking to the night's theme, drag performers will wear dazzling screen-printed creations for both group and solo numbers. Flex your own creative muscles in a range of workshops. There's collage printing with Tristan Chant, the talented artist who fuses screen printing and chopping and rearranging images to form something new. Attendees can try their hand at Chant's creative practice via silk screens (and are encouraged to bring their own t-shirt to use in the session). Do you know what frottage is? Well, if not, you should be even more excited to head to Marcus Dyer-Harrison's session on the artform. Tracing and rubbing over material objects (say a coin or a leaf) with a lead pencil will leave a version of your subject embellished on your page. Through this technique, you can create new versions of the ordinary things in your surroundings — and uncover a new way to see and explore your world. Tickets are free, but you need to RSVP. Hands-on art, live music and dinner chosen from a lineup of food trucks? Better than whatever else you had planned for a Thursday night. Can't make it on the 8th? The next NAS NEO is on Thursday, June 22 and will be spotlighting contemporary Indigenous art — RSVP and then add it to your diary ASAP. NAS NEO: On Print takes over the National Art School grounds in Darlinghurst on Thursday, June 8 from 6–10pm. For more information, head to the website.
UPDATE, Monday, March 18, 2024: Asteroid City is available to stream via Netflix, Binge, YouTube Movies, iTunes and Prime Video. In 1954, one of Alfred Hitchcock's greatest thrillers peeked through a rear window. In Wes Anderson's highly stylised, symmetrical and colour-saturated vision of 1955 in Asteroid City, a romance springs almost solely through two fellow holes in the wall. Sitting behind one is actor Midge Campbell (Scarlett Johansson, Black Widow), who visibly recalls Marilyn Monroe. Peering through the opposing space is newly widowed war photographer Augie Steenbeck (Jason Schwartzman, Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse), who takes more than a few cues from James Dean. The time isn't just 1955 in the filmmaker's latest stellar masterpiece, but September that year, a month that would end with Dean's death in a car crash. Racing through the movie's eponymous setting — an 87-person slice of post-war midwest Americana with a landscape straight out of a western, the genre that was enjoying its golden age at the time — are cops and robbers speeding and careening in their vehicles. Meticulousness layered upon meticulousness has gleamed like the sun across Anderson's repertoire since 1996's Bottle Rocket launched the writer/director's distinctive aesthetic flair; "Anderson-esque" has long become a term. Helming his 11th feature with Asteroid City, he's as fastidious and methodical in his details upon details as ever — more so, given that each successive movie keeps feeling like Anderson at his most Anderson — but all of those 50s pop-culture shoutouts aren't merely film-loving, winking-and-nodding quirks. Within this picture's world, as based on a story conjured up with Roman Coppola (The French Dispatch), Asteroid City isn't actually a picture. "It is an imaginary drama created expressly for the purposes of this broadcast. The characters are fictional, the text hypothetical, the events an apocryphal fabrication," a Playhouse 90-style host (Bryan Cranston, Better Call Saul) informs. So, it's a fake play turned into a play for a TV presentation, behind-the-scenes glimpses and all. There Anderson is, being his usual ornate and intricate self, and finding multiple manners to explore art, authenticity, and the emotions found in and processed through works of creativity. Those windows that Midge and Augie keep chatting through belong to neighbouring bungalows in the only motel in Asteroid City, the town. (Not only is the setting not actually a city, but the asteroid that caused its famous crater back in 3007 BC is really a meteorite.) Although the pair arrive at the isolated desert spot as strangers, their respective kids in tow, they don't remain that way for long. Midge's daughter Dinah (Grace Edwards, Call Jane) and Augie's son Woodrow (Jake Ryan, Uncut Gems) are among the star attendees at a Junior Stargazer convention, each being feted by the US Military for their scientific inventions. As the kids talk and cultivate crushes, so do the adults. Those windows aren't just one of Asteroid City's several framing devices, either. Visually, Anderson reminds that we're all our own separate boxes, interacting with other separate boxes. He also ponders art's many boxes — screens included, naturally — in a film that dispenses everything from martinis to real estate from boxy vending machines. Each tiny speck of Asteroid City is that elaborate, intelligent and attentively chosen. Amid such diligent minutiae, however, Anderson goes out-of-this-world on emotion. Warm, insightful and funny, his new film features all of his hallmarks — think: the jam-packed starry cast spanning almost every famous face that's ever been in his frames, but adding more just-as-well-known talents; the exquisitely balanced compositions; the playfulness and whimsy of its on-screen world; the deadpan humour; the melancholy — and also contemplates life, death, grief, alienation, loneliness, love, dreams, connection, hope, wonder and what matters when we're all tiny specks existing ever-so-fleetingly in an expansive universe. As the filmmaker's first release made in pandemic times (The French Dispatch was shot in 2018 and 2019, initially due to premiere at Cannes 2020, then delayed to late 2021 when the globe shut down), it's also a clever, canny and brilliantly comic musing on the unexpected shaking up daily life, the ins and outs of quarantine and lockdown, and humanity's coping mechanisms when everything radically shifts and turns. Doing the writing in Asteroid City's boxed-in black-and-white segments: playwright Conrad Earp (Edward Norton, Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery), who immediately takes a shine to actor Jones Hall (also Schwartzman), casting him as Augie. Doing the directing: Schubert Green (Adrien Brody, Poker Face), who moves in backstage when his wife Polly (Hong Chau, The Whale) leaves him. Life in monochrome is messy; this is when method acting reigned supreme, too, and Earp and Green's cast have much to draw upon. Of course, while existence within the colourful widescreen sections that represent the play itself might look neat, it's also anything but. As General Gibson (Jeffrey Wright, The Batman) oversees the stargazers — and astronomer Dr Hickenlooper (Tilda Swinton, Three Thousand Years of Longing) has them looking up — there's loss, romance, a teacher (Maya Hawke, Stranger Things) with inquisitive pupils, cowboys a-singing (such as High Desert's Rupert Friend and Pulp's Jarvis Cocker), ashes in Tupperware, a starstruck father-in-law (Tom Hanks, A Man Called Otto) and otherworldly interlopers. Anderson also finds time for Steve Carell (The Patient), Jeff Goldblum (Jurassic World Dominion), Tony Revolori (Servant), Liev Schreiber (A Small Light), Matt Dillon (Proxima), Willem Dafoe (The Northman) and more to pop up. (Much of life's chaos is bodies, faces and lots of them, his films constantly note.) And, with both Margot Robbie (Barbie) and mushroom clouds making an appearance, he even goes all Barbenheimer. (As Christopher Nolan obviously recently demonstrated, the billowing results of atom-bomb tests instantly put human fragility into context.) Asteroid City sports an Anderson retrospective as well, with precocious kids à la Rushmore and Moonrise Kingdom, trains traversing plains like The Darjeeling Limited, family woes as The Royal Tenenbaums perfected, an insular setting akin to The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, and The Grand Budapest Hotel and The French Dispatch's nesting structure. Never one to hold back, the present most-aped and -memed director levels up everything, including the crater-sized impact. That Anderson's movies are impeccably styled and scored can now almost go without saying. Back from The French Dispatch, his regular cinematographer Robert D Yeoman and composer Alexandre Desplat make every moment sparkle and twinkle with beauty. That his casts understand the Anderson method is also that self-evident now. Here, wading through yearning, mourning, disappointments and the unknown, Schwartzman and Johansson in particular are astronomically spectacular. Asteroid City assembles all the Anderson pieces that audiences expect exactly so — and repeatedly probes what we see, feel and discover when we surrender to art or anything beyond ourselves, his with its giddy, gleeful, oh-so-gorgeous artifice over naturalism as well. He keeps his audience staring at boxes because, whether windows or Broadway or screens, they reflect living. "You can't wake up if you don't fall asleep," Asteroid City's play actors chant offstage; that you can't appreciate existence's wonders and mysteries if you don't look for them, be it IRL or through the stories and works and pictures that reflect our lives, the film doesn't utter aloud but conveys equally as spiritedly, lovingly and rousingly.
Thirteen years ago, Korea's cinema standouts scored their own showcase Down Under, with the inaugural Korean Film Festival in Australia debuting in 2010. Since then, the festival has kept returning to celebrate both the latest and greatest flicks that South Korea has to offer. It was playing Bong Joon-ho films before Parasite swept the Oscars. It was revelling in Korean thrillers prior to Squid Game becoming an international success, too. It loved Korean genre fare before Train to Busan as well. And, KOFFIA will keep the nation's must-see titles in Sydney this winter. 2023's festival has a date with Event Cinemas George Street from Thursday, August 24–Tuesday, August 29. Across six days, it'll endeavour to give audiences a new Korean favourite, or several, from a selection that spans everything from murder-mysteries and detective dramas to revenge thrillers and musicals. There's no such thing as a standard Korean film, which is true of every country's movie output; however, this national cinema is mighty fond of twisty tales. Accordingly, it should come as no surprise that Confession and Gentleman are both on the 2023 bill. The first is a locked-room mystery with an IT company CEO suddenly finding himself the prime suspect, while the second involves a private detective agency's head honcho being falsely accused of a crime. Also on the lineup: The Devil's Deal, which sees a political candidate disqualified, then out for revenge; and The Night Owl, about an acupuncturist who is blind in daylight, can see clearly at night, and witnesses a tragic event one evening. The latter opens the festival, and the directors of both films — The Devil's Deal's Lee Won-tae and The Night Owl's An Tae-jin — are coming to Australia for KOFFIA. Elsewhere, comedy 6/45 hits the Korean Film Festival after proving a box-office smash at home, focusing on soldiers from both North and South Korea finding a windfall; Hero heads back to 1900s Korea to hone in on independence activist Ahn Jung-geun's plight battling Japanese colonial rule; musical drama Life Is Beautiful sees a husband trying to locate his wife's childhood sweetheart; and Next Sohee, which played Cannes 2022, is all about an exploitative work situation. Or, the standouts also include Switch, where a celebrity wakes up one morning to discover that he's living a completely different life — and romance Nothing Serious, about an aspiring novelist who writes a sex column.
Lean, mean and a Nazi-killing machine: that's Sisu and its handy-with-a-hunting-knife (and pickaxe) protagonist alike. This stunningly choreographed Finnish action film's title doesn't have a literal equivalent in English, but means stoic, tenacious, resolute, brave and gritty all in that four-letter term; again, both the movie and the man at its centre fit the description. Former soldier Aatami Korpi (Jorma Tommila, perhaps best-known internationally for 2010's Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale) has one aim. After he strikes gold and plenty of it in Lapland's far reaches, he's keen to cash in. For someone who has already lost everyone and everything to World War II, that requires transporting his haul; however, the year is 1944 and German troops still lurk even as the combat winds down. Accordingly, getting those gleaming nuggets from the wilderness to a bank means facing a greedy and unrelenting platoon led by Helldorf (Aksel Hennie, The Cloverfield Paradox), who can spy a payday and an exit strategy for himself. Before anything yellow shimmers, Nazi-filled tanks are sighted, a single shot is fired or a blow swung, Sisu explains its moniker as "a white-knuckled form of courage and unimaginable determination". Text on-screen also advises that "sisu manifests itself when all hope is lost." As a film, Sisu may as well be shorthand for John Wick meets Inglourious Basterds meets Django, the iconic 1966 spaghetti western that Quentin Tarantino riffed on with Django Unchained, too — plus all of that meets the work of legendary spaghetti western director Sergio Leone as well. The carnage is that balletic. The Nazi offings are that brutal, roguish and inventive. And valuing deeds over dialogue as a lone figure dispatches with nefarious forces against an unforgiving landscape, and no matter what they throw at him, is firmly the setup. "He is one mean motherfucker that you don't want to mess with," the Nazis are told of Sisu's one-man death squad after they cross paths, the Germans think that their numbers will win out, and Aatami swiftly and savagely shows their folly. Of course, Helldorf and his underlings don't heed that advice. They're heading to Norway, destroying villages and also transporting a wagon filled with Finnish women they've taken captive, such as the spirited Aino (Mimosa Willamo, Memory of Water) — and the nihilistic Helldorf is soon fixated on the gold at any cost. That's a bad choice for the Nazis but great news for audiences. Enter: minefields proving deadly and also coming in handy, oh-so-many limbs going flying, the most grisly way to breathe underwater that's possibly been seen in cinema, taking the battle onto boats and planes, and Aatami continually demonstrating why he's earned such a fierce reputation. The latter doesn't take kindly to Nazis, as no one should, nor to being attacked, having his gold stolen and, like Keanu Reeves' best character of late, seeing his dog threatened. Sisu writer/director Jalmari Helander also helmed dark festive action-comedy Rare Exports, giving seasonal flicks a memorably twisted spin. Then, although to much lesser success, he cast Samuel L Jackson (Secret Invasion) as a US President evading terrorists-slash-hunters in the woods in 2014's Big Game. Here, he knows which footsteps he's treading in — Mad Max: Fury Road also springs to mind in Sisu's staging, setting and elements of its story — and also how to make his film its own extravagantly bloody and entertaining spectacle. There's ticking boxes, and then there's colouring them in with your own hues and designs so that yes, they've been marked off but in your distinctive manner. Sisu works through everything that audiences think will happen, even winkingly signposting via named chapters splashed across the frame with western-esque font, and yet it's no mere exercise in lazily fulfilling a checklist. Helander is too willing to get as OTT and pulpy as he can manage, to get as immersed in the film's playfully and gruesomely engrossing violence as he's able to, and to keep one-upping the creative and downright novel kills at Aatami's hands. In every case, he's giddily going for broke — and frequently getting in close via cinematographer Kjell Lagerroos (another Memory of Water alum). Sisu casts its solo hero against a sprawling setting that's oppressive in its immenseness in classic western style. The colour palette is colder, though; the feature surrounds Aatami with visible, inescapable, ever-present and grey-tinged desolation, as reality dictates of war movies. Helander paints this intense, grim and devastating big picture, while also seeing the gore and dirt and sweat intimately and intricately. What would the John Wick franchise be without Reeves? Django without the great Franco Nero (who popped up in John Wick: Chapter 2) in his breakout role? A Fistful of Dollars and its sequels without Clint Eastwood (Cry Macho)? The question now: what would Sisu be without the irrepressible Tommila? Every single one of the films just mentioned boasts a sublime mix of perfectly chosen stars and directors doing their utmost — brothers-in-law Tommila and Helander among them. With so few words uttered, Tommila's physical performance has to convey everything. So, a stare screams with ferocity, a gaze at Aatami's dog bubbles with emotion and a twitch is never just a twitch. Watching silent protagonists dispensing with a constant onslaught of foes also gets audiences mirroring the characters, aka surveying the scene for even the slightest change or sign given that even the smallest details can alter so much. As villains get slain again and again — and Aatami keeps weathering what's blasted his way — Sisu unleashes its barrage with weight. That isn't only because the atrocities of the Second World War should never be forgotten. All those lingering views of messy and madcap carnage? They don't just notice Aatami's actions, but show what he goes through as he persists and subsists. This is a film about survival as much as it's about payback. It has stakes and makes them plain, even as it's as blatant a good-versus-evil movie as they come. It's grounded in the past, stripped down to bangs and smacks and crunches that pack a visceral and emotional punch (smashes and crashes, too, with meticulous sound design that makes every pop and snap echo), and pulled off with cartoonish flair. Sisu is many things, just like the term itself in its native Finland — and impossible to stop watching is one of them.
For the past nine years, juniper spirits have been flowing everywhere from London to Melbourne thanks to big gin festival Junipalooza. But if you're a Sydneysider with a fondness for the tipple in question, you would have been looking on with a touch of envy for most of that time. Well, until 2022, when the fest finally hit the Harbour City for two huge days. Following a successful debut Sydney edition, Junipalooza is returning in 2023. Come Saturday, August 26–Sunday, August 27, the gin festival will hit Carriageworks with plenty of drinks. The Sydney event will feature sampling stations from some of the world's best distillers. Fifty distillers from around the globe will be sharing their gins, with over 100 different types set to feature. Renowned international distillers like Singapore's Tanglin Gin and India's Hapusa will be in attendance alongside local favourites like Ginny Pig Distillery, Old Young's Distiller, Melbourne Gin Company, Bondi Liquor Co and Four Pillars. If you're eager to sip your way through the fest, you can choose between three sessions, with tickets on sale now. On the Saturday, you can start the day with drinks from 11am–3pm, or spend your evening sampling gin between 4–8pm. On Sunday, an 11am–4pm session is on the cards. Top image: Jacquie Manning.
Sydney Sweeney is ready for her closeup. Playwright-turned-filmmaker Tina Satter obliges. A household name of late due to her exceptional work in both Euphoria and The White Lotus, Sweeney has earned the camera's attention for over a decade; however, she's never been peered at with the unflinching intensity of Satter's debut feature Reality. For much of this short, sharp and stunning docudrama, the film's star lingers within the frame. Plenty of the movie's 83-minute running time devotes its focus to her face, staring intimately and scrutinising what it sees. Within Reality's stranger-than-fiction narrative, that imagery spies a US Air Force veteran and National Security Agency translator in her mid-twenties, on what she thought was an ordinary Saturday. It's June 3, 2017, with the picture's protagonist returning from buying groceries to find FBI agents awaiting at her rented Augusta, Georgia home, then accusing her of "the possible mishandling of classified information". Reality spots a woman facing grave charges, a suspect under interrogation and a whistleblower whose fate is already known to the world. It provides a thriller of a procedural with agents, questions, allegations and arrests; an informer saga that cuts to the heart of 21st-century American politics, and its specific chaos since 2016; and an impossible-to-shake tragedy about how authority savagely responds to being held to account. Bringing her stage production Is This a Room: Reality Winner Verbatim Transcription to the screen after it wowed off-Broadway and then Broadway, Satter dedicates Reality's bulk to that one day and those anxious minutes, unfurling in close to real time — but, pivotally, it kicks off three weeks earlier with its namesake at work while Fox News plays around her office. Why would someone leak to the media a restricted NSA report about Russian interference in getting Donald Trump elected? Before it recreates the words genuinely spoken between its eponymous figure and law enforcement, Reality sees the answer as well. Reality Winner boasted a moniker that no one would forget long before the events that she'd make international headlines for, and have inspired a play and now a film. Still, she couldn't have suspected, nor her father who gave it to her, that so many folks would learn who she was and what she's called — or why they'd do so. Satter's movie is in dialogue with its subject's distinctive name. It surveys Reality and reality by using reality, and it observes no winners. There's also no escaping the fact that reality is both precarious and subjective when it comes to Winner's deeds and others like them: Trump has been indicted for mishandling classified documents himself, with boxes of them found in his Mar-a-Lago home, but the likelihood of his penalty eclipsing the longest-ever sentence given by a US federal court for releasing government information is miniscule. Everything is average, standard and nondescript when Winner (Sweeney, also a Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and The Handmaid's Tale alum) pulls up outside of her house to discover an audience. Satter scripts with James Paul Dallas (Halston's archival producer), enlisting Paul Yee (Joy Ride) as Reality's cinematographer, plus Jennifer Vecchiarello (Thor: Love and Thunder) and Ron Dulin (Resurrection) as editors — and, before agents Garrick (Josh Hamilton, The Walking Dead) and Taylor (Marchánt Davis, A Journal for Jordan) start talking, the scene that the film spins, sees and splices couldn't appear more commonplace. The daytime sunlight streaming down doesn't brighten. Winner's brick abode could sit on any block almost anywhere. She's sans makeup, wearing a white shirt and cutoffs that she wouldn't have thought twice about. And, once the chatting begins, peppered as it is with routine small talk, it too is mundane. Is Winner thirsty? What's the best way to handle her rescue dog? Will her cat bolt if the door is left open? Is there somewhere private, away from the other agents executing search warrants for her house, car and phone, where the trio can head to? These details comprise much of the early conversation, as laced with ums, aahs and awkward pauses. With no disrespect to the best screenwriters — the best at procedurals, too — every word and gap in Reality could've only sprung from real life. And there are purposeful holes, thanks to part of the chat remaining redacted in the publicly released transcripts that Satter works with. Her inventive and perceptive solution: glitching in and out, having the people affected disappear and reappear, and reminding audiences oh-so-savvily that every single take on reality is always just that, a take, and should always be inspected and unpacked. With talk echoing — especially in a room that Winner doesn't usually use, describes as "weird" and "creepy", and looks as close as a space in someone's home can to a prison cell — Reality steps through why the agents are there, what they're chasing, their suspect's tale and her reaction. As crucial as words are to the film, and the exact words uttered off-screen at that, they only tell part of the story. They explain that Winner can speak Farsi, Pashto and Dari; aspires to be deployed to Afghanistan; trains in CrossFit and teaches yoga; and owns guns, including a pink AR-15. They establish Garrick as playing the nice guy among the FBI cohort, and Taylor as affable but sterner. They eventually lay out what Winner is accused of doing, and how. Satter witnesses what isn't spoken, though, such as the rigid physicality that sits in stark contrast to the agents' warmer tone — and the displays of force that are everywhere, simply because the FBI is everywhere, when Winner is permitted to squeeze into her kitchen to put her perishables away. As every meticulously calculated stylistic choice ramps up the stress, Nathan Micay's (Industry) jittery score among them — and as Sweeney delivers a phenomenal masterclass in microexpressions that's a career-best performance to-date — Reality spots a gut-punch of an inescapable truth as well. We hope, think and are led to believe, aided by movies and TV shows, that significant instances and incidents feel significant; and yet big moments aren't actually always big moments, even when whistleblowing, revealing state secrets and the legal response are involved. Indeed, the movie's ripped-from-reality look and dialogue, plus its central naturalistic performance, are all calibrated to reinforce that sometimes life changes drastically when nothing huge initially seems to. Winner's existence was forever altered by the scenes that Satter displays, but Reality knows that no one was shouting and screaming that that was the case as it occurred. More than that, and with gripping chills and dripping dread, it puts viewers in Winner's shoes as her world turns — and ours — but the world keeps turning.
UPDATE, August 18, 2023: This screening is no longer showing at Roseville Cinemas, aka Sydney's oldest cinema, playing at The Reservoir Cinema in Surry Hills instead. This article has been updated to reflect that change. They're the world's most fearsome fighting team, or so the catchy theme tune goes, and they're heading back to the big screen. There's always a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie in the works of late, or so it seems — a couple of new flicks released back in 2014 and 2016, and a new animated flick is on its way in 2023 — but seeing the 1990 live-action film in a cinema is a rare treat. Mark 7pm and 9.15pm on Saturday, August 19 in your diary, Sydneysiders. This isn't any old screening, though. Haus of Horror is behind it, after showing horror movies at Parramatta Gaol and Camperdown Cemetery earlier this year. This time, The Reservoir Cinema in Surry Hills is the setting. Because the next Haus of Horror season won't begin until the weather gets warmer, the horror event fiends are heading indoors, going green and showing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in stink-o-vision. Yes, you'll receive scratch 'n' sniff cards, which you'll use to emit appropriate scents as you watch. Already thinking about pizza, as TMNT always inspires? You'll be able to smell it during the session as you watch Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo and Raphael (and Sam Rockwell in a blink-or-you'll-miss-it part). Also, there'll be pizzas to purchase, a bar serving drinks, pre-film trivia testing your Turtles knowledge and a photo booth. Tickets start at $35, or cost $57 with a pepperoni ooze pizza and $60 with a vegan version.
Motel Mexication has arrived at Henley's, transforming King Street Wharf into a Mexican-inspired pop-up. This bright and bubbly fiesta brings the colours, spice and vibrancy of Mexico all the way to Sydney's harbourside. On the cards is a feast of Mexican-inspired dishes from tacos to loaded nachos created by Executive Chef Jason Roberson, who's put together a menu inspired by Tex-Mex street food classics. The hero is definitely the Trashcan Nachos – a tower of corn tortilla chips, melty cheese, guacamole, jalapeños and your choice of beef or mixed beans – all delivered to your table in a fun, miniature trash can. Another must-try is the DIY Taco Platter, offering barbacoa beef, fried prawns or braised shiitake mushrooms, along with all the bells and whistles you need for the perfect build-your-own taco extravaganza. You're no doubt thinking about margaritas by now. Head in on Mondays for $15 margs all day. Or, if (one or two) clearly isn't enough, book in for a Bottomless Margarita package, available daily from midday. You'll get your pick of passionfruit, watermelon, strawberry, mango and classic – plus all the corn chips, guacamole and salsa you can eat.
To Valhalla, George Miller went: when Mad Max: Fury Road thundered across and shone upon the silver screen in 2015, and it did both, it gave cinema one of the greatest action movies ever made. It has taken nine years for the Australian filmmaker to back up one of the 21st century's masterpieces with another stunt-filled drive through his dystopian franchise — a realm that now dates back 45 years, with Mad Max first envisaging a hellscape Down Under in 1979 — and he's achieved the immensely enviable. Fury Road and Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga's white-hued, silver-lipped war boys pray to gain entry to a mythological dreamscape just once, but Miller keeps returning again and again (only 1985's Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome, in a now five-film series that also includes 1981's Mad Max 2, is anything less than heavenly). "The question is: do you have what it takes to make it epic?" Miller has Chris Hemsworth (Thor: Love and Thunder) ask in Furiosa as biker-horde leader Dementus, he of the post-apocalyptic Thor-meets-Roman gladiator look and chariot-by-motorcycle mode of transport. Returning to all things Mad Max after an affecting detour to 2022's djinn fable Three Thousand Years of Longing, the writer/director might've been posing himself the same query — and he resoundingly answers in the affirmative. An origin story-spinning prequel has rarely felt as essential as this unearthing of its namesake's history, which Fury Road hinted at when it introduced Furiosa (then played by Charlize Theron, Fast X) and made her the movie's hero above and beyond Mad Max (Tom Hardy, Venom: Let There Be Carnage). Discovering the full Furiosa tale felt imperative then, too, and with good reason: Miller had already planned the figure's own film to flesh out her background before her celluloid debut, and that she existed well past her interactions with Max was always as apparent as the steely glare that said everything without words. Now with both Anya Taylor-Joy (The Super Mario Bros Movie) and Alyla Browne (The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart) playing the lead, Furiosa is an act of seeing how sands shift. Time, terrors and tragedy sweep through Furiosa's life, moulding her into Fury Road's formidable figure — and the grains blasted around by the years, and the trials and tribulations, assist with the shaping. As exceptional as Theron was, owning her time in the role and the film that she was in, Miller was smart to recast with Taylor-Joy rather than deploying digital de-ageing. His new Furiosa doesn't mimic her predecessor, but evolves into her take on the character, including via fierce and anxious eye emoting beneath slicks of grease in a frequently wordless performance. Browne is also excellent, and equally as determined. Furiosa has chosen all of its key talents wisely; in a showcase turn, Hemsworth peacocks and drips evil like he's never had so much fun on screen, while Tom Burke (Living) is commandingly stoic as Praetorian Jack, a war rig pilot and a thoughtful mentor. When Browne begins the film as Furiosa, The Green Place of Many Mothers and the Vuvalini, its matriarchal custodians, are the character's safe haven and guiding forces — blissfully so. But she's resourceful, knowing to sever the fuel line on the bike of roving scavengers to stop them from finding her home. The girl that audiences already know will become an Imperator under The Citadel warlord Immortan Joe (Three Thousand Years of Longing's Lachy Hulme, taking over from the now-late Hugh Keays-Byrne) — and will then secret away his captive wives, each treated as little more than human breeding stock — can't stop the raiders from snatching her up, however. Their hope: impressing the volatile Dementus, who rides across the desert with a teddy bear strapped to him, with living proof that more than the wasteland's dust and savagery exists. Furiosa's world-building first hour spends its time with its protagonist as a plucky pre-teen trying to escape back to her mother Mary Jabassa (Charlee Fraser, Anyone But You) — who is in swift pursuit — and then internalising the trauma of becoming her captor's adoptee as he plots dominance guided by sheer arrogance, entitlement, cruelty and buffoonery (Hemsworth wears his bluster as well as he does red capes, which he amusingly isn't done with in this move away from Marvel). She's still a girl when Dementus and his gang arrive at The Citadel, where she's traded into Immortan Joe's care. Fifteen years pass in Miller and Fury Road co-scribe Nick Lathouris' new narrative, but Taylor-Joy's step into Furiosa's shoes leaves the character no less enterprising and consumed by anger at a world where everything that she loves has been taken from her. Max Rockatansky was a vigilante, after all — and, as shot in Australia for the first time since Beyond Thunderdome, Miller is still making a vengeance story here. "We are the already dead, Little D, you and me," Dementus will tell Furiosa later. This remains a movie where speeding along dirt roads in the vehicular equivalents of Frankenstein's monster — tinkered together road trains ferrying arms from the Bullet Farm and petrol from Gas Town — is an eye-popping high-octane spectacle, but it's also one where pain, grief and, yes, fury run deep. With Aussie accents everywhere, and a sunburnt country that's inching closer to reflecting reality every day baking parched sights into the Simon Duggan (Disenchanted)-lensed frames, Furiosa doesn't forget that it's in a franchise about ecocide, what humanity robs from itself by committing it and what it takes to endure afterwards. Fury Road didn't, either, but by adding more room between the on-the-road chaos, its prequel buzzes and thrums with the urgency and immediacy of survival, and also lets the weight of Furiosa's plight land. With Oscar-winning editor Margaret Sixel (Happy Feet) and costume designer Jenny Beavan (Cruella) both back — the first working with Eliot Knapman (a second assistant editor last time) and whipping up action sequences as frenetic as ever, the second in vintage form — Miller has top-notch help etching stunning sights into cinema history again. Although Furiosa isn't just one long pedal-to-the-metal display, it's still filled with them. A mid-movie 15-minute setpiece is as tremendous as Mad Max flicks get. While CGI leaves bigger tyre marks this time, there's an apt air to the glossier look versus Fury Road's lived-in aesthetics, reflecting Furiosa's journey. The wasteland and its horrors greet her afresh in this film, but they're as caked on as mud when she's an Imperator. It also feels fitting that Furiosa arrives, finally, in a year that sand has already stretched across screens as far as could be seen in Dune: Part Two, and also revenge has fuelled Love Lies Bleeding and Monkey Man and Boy Kills World. Making the vast, primal and eternal feel vivid and shiny and new keeps proving Miller's 00s-era Mad Max wheelhouse — and what a treat, what a lovely treat, it makes for viewers.
What's better: free KFC, or bites to eat other than chicken being double-breaded and fried just like the Colonel's finest? The answer: a place that does both. Sydney is getting one, albeit temporarily. But hit up The Original Crispery, as the two-day-only world-first pop-up is called, and you'll nab a burger without spending a cent — and also get the chance to enjoy an entire menu that's been given the KFC treatment. Have you always thought that vegetables such as broccolini and asparagus would taste better if they were coated and fried just like KFC chicken? Cheesecake, too? Peanut butter and jam sandwiches? They're some of the items on the menu at The Original Crispery — and, like the burgs, they're also free. The place: 118 Crown Street, Darlinghurst. The dates and times: 10am–7pm on Friday, May 17 and 10am–5pm on Saturday, May 18. Everyone who drops by will get one free original recipe burger and one other free item from the menu, as suitably "crispified" as the fast-food chain is calling it. Why? Whenever a pop-up like this happens, it's always to promote something. This time, the brand is spreading the word about its permanent new original crispy burger series being added to the menu at KFCs Australia-wide, where every burger fillet is double-breaded. It hits outlets on Tuesday, May 14. As for what else is on offer at The Original Crispery, you'll have to show up to find out. Until then, dreaming up a list of other foodstuffs that KFC can crisp up will pass the time and make you hungry.
"A woman. A dog. A campervan. And 4,500km of wide open road." That isn't the tagline for the latest homegrown drama series to hit streaming services. It's the description for the newest production showing at Wyoming's Laycock Street Community Theatre, Highway of Lost Hearts. The show is one night only, taking place on Saturday, May 18. In it, Mot, the protagonist, awakes one day to find she's lost her heart — literally. This revelation takes her on a trip across the outback and invites us to ask questions about what we'd do in her situation, as well as ponder whether we, as a country, have also lost our hearts. Written by award-winning Darwin playwright Mary Anne Butler, Highway of Lost Hearts is presented in collaboration with Bathurst's interdisciplinary arts organisation, Lingua Franca and Bathurst Memorial Entertainment Centre's Local Stages program. It promises 70 minutes of thought-provoking entertainment, includes music from Central West artists Smith & Jones and is led by seasoned theatre star Kate Smith.
There's no swapping faces in John Woo's latest English-language action-thriller. Instead, the iconic Hong Kong filmmaker brings guns, chases and a quest for revenge to the festive genre. As anyone who rightly considers Die Hard among the pinnacle of Christmas movies already knows, seasonal cinema offerings don't need to drip in schmaltz, holiday humour, or Santas and reindeers to be an end-of-year present. Still, in making his first Hollywood effort since 2003's Paycheck, the director behind Hard Target, Broken Arrow and Face/Off in the 90s — plus Mission: Impossible II in 2000 — keeps the ties of family gleaming in Silent Night. That said, from the moment that the picture opens with a man in a Rudolph-adorned jumper, fuzzy red pom-pom and all, in a battle on Texan back streets with gang members who've just torn his brood apart on Christmas Eve, Woo also goes the brutal route. Silent Night's name echoes in several ways. Recalling a tune that's all about the jolliest time of the year is just one. Setting scenes in a period when halls are decked with boughs of holly is merely another. If protagonist Brian Godlock (Joel Kinnaman, The Suicide Squad) gets his wish, there'll be no more noise — let alone violence and bloodshed — from the criminals responsible for killing his young son (Alex Briseño, A Million Miles Away) with a stray bullet from drive-by crossfire as the boy rode his new bike in the front yard. Woo's main stylistic conceit comes to fruition instantly, however, because Silent Night largely avoids dialogue. Aided by meticulous sound design, that choice isn't a gimmick purely for the sake of it. Rather, Robert Archer Lynn's (Already Dead) script has Brian lose the ability to speak in the introductory sequence's fallout. The film's propulsive arrival is all frenzy, mayhem and intensity as Brian runs, cars packed with armed men blasting with abandon can't fell him, but being shot in the throat by villainous head thug Playa (Harold Torres, Memory) heralds blackness. If there's any doubt that Woo is enjoying staging the chaos, his use of slow motion says plenty. So does spotting a red balloon drifting away. Elsewhere, while the filmmaker mightn't work in his trademark doves, a bird does flutter. With cinematographer Sharone Meir (Echo 3) doing the lensing, Silent Night realises that stripping out chatter means heightening the visual experience, whether the picture is in frenetic or plotting mode. But there's also an earnestness to the movie and its aesthetics; this is a grim and bloody Christmas flick, and it's well-aware in every inch. As Brian prepares for his vengeance mission in training montages, then endeavours to execute his plan, an emotional underpinning anchors Silent Night's almost total lack of words (text on-screen features via SMS messages, and the radio still blares), too. He's a man robbed of the ability to verbally process his trauma. He can't shout, swear, scream or cry out. There'll never be any catharsis from just uttering his feelings aloud to a kindly listener. So, he's driven to act. As played with expressive physicality by Kinnaman, he's obsessively haunted into doing the only thing that he thinks he can — even if it means that his marriage to the also-mourning Saya (Catalina Sandino Moreno, From) suffers, and regardless of police detective Dennis Vassell's (Scott Mescudi, Crater) request for his assistance to lawfully bring the culprits to justice. There's a full-circle touch to Silent Night's disdain for talking as well, given how stellar the clearly Woo-influenced John Wick films have proven by also letting actions say far more than words, albeit never to this degree. Before that, it was the similarly Keanu Reeves-led The Matrix movies that help cement Woo's brand of stylised imagery as a Tinseltown standard, as far too many imitators have continued to ape ever since. Although Woo has kept adding to his resume over the past two decades, thanks to two-part war epic Red Cliff, wuxia effort Reign of Assassins, the also-split The Crossing and action-thriller Manhunt, he makes his Hollywood comeback with passion. In its look and feel, Silent Night is a work of relish — and, in its staircase sequence alone, a reminder of what American cinema has missed while it has been content taking Woo's cues over boasting him behind the camera. The filmmaker, his flair and his knack for eschewing words have it, then — plus the committed Kinnaman and Moreno — more than the plot, no matter how well-grounded in Brian's situation it proves. Death Wish, Taken and their own mimics have mined dads dishing out retaliation before, after all. Indeed, as fellow 2023 release Retribution demonstrates, Liam Neeson has resided comfortably in the "father in a fray for his family" niche ever since busting out his particular set of skills 15 years back. Silent Night isn't here to hold up Brian as a hero gleaming as brightly as a star on a Christmas tree, though. In other hands, that might've been the vibe, but there's no doubting that he's unravelling in desperate pain as he fixates upon his vigilante rampage. Marco Beltrami's (Renfield) score has it, too: this is an action-melodrama as much as an action-thriller. Woo hasn't just switched conversation for an onslaught of operatic sights and grunting, crunching sound effects — amid the kinetic altercations, of which there's many, he also lingers on his cast to see what's getting his characters ticking, pondering, yearning, hurting and swirling. This film spies in silence what wouldn't be done justice in dialogue, with feelings simmering and steaming in looks and gestures. Silent Night's action choreography impresses, unsurprisingly, but so does its emotional dance. Pass the Parcel might be a birthday-party game rather than a Christmas one, but it sums up this movie: each layer offers a gift, some expected, some exquisite.
Trying new wines can be a stressful pursuit. There are just so many vinos to choose from, hailing from such a wide array of wineries, that it's hard to know where to start. Fresh Blood simplifies that process for you — by doing the choosing for you. That means that you can sit back, take whichever glass comes your way and get sipping. It's no wonder that the concept was a hit in London, or that it made its Australian debut in 2021. Returning to Sydney on Sunday, November 12, Fresh Blood's latest Aussie event will focus on 15 emerging Australian winemakers — and also show some love to a producer from New Zealand as well. Wondering what you'll be knocking back? From SA, Lust for Life, State of Nature and The Mysterious Mr Black are among the labels. The list goes on, with Victoria's Allevare and Di Renzo from New South Wales also on the bill. The event takes place at Odd Culture Newtown, with tickets costing $69, which covers entry, tastings from 12–3pm, a take-home tasting glass, $10 worth of snacks and $10 off any bottle for the first 100 tickets sold.
In 2022, beloved social enterprise Two Good Co opened a cafe and convenience store in Darlinghurst's Yirranma Place. The venue provides Sydneysiders with tasty breakfast and lunch options, as well as products from local ethically minded businesses such as The Bread & Butter Project, Kua Coffee and Gelato Messina — all while raising funds to help Two Good's goal of supporting vulnerable women by providing pathways out of crisis living. Each month at the cafe, the crew brings in a well-known and well-loved chef or culinary team to create special one-off menu items. Kylie Kwong, Maggie Beer, Peter Gilmore and Matt Moran have all been on curating duties in the past, and the month of October 2023 sees the pleasure fall on food writer and award-winning restaurateur Mat Lindsay. Lindsay is known for his acclaimed restaurants, Ester and Poly, as well as his ever-popular cookbook, Ester. A purveyor of all things simple, seasonal and flavourful, Lindsay brings an inventive approach to Two Good Co's monthly menu. Available throughout October, the menu features two no-fuss lunch items and a little sweet treat. Item number one is an elevated tuna melt, which packs a punch. Linsday's take on the familiar fave features melted cheese and tuna paired with cornichons, capers and chilli sandwiched between two slices of thick white toast. Also available: a fresh cauliflower, egg and upland cress salad boasting slices of crisp green apple, celery, creamy mustard, punchy paprika and topped with an apple cider vinegar dressing — perfect for a light spring meal. Rounding out the offerings is a decadent lunchtime dessert — indulge in a slice of burnt cheesecake for smooth, velvety goodness with balanced sweetness and a touch of smoke. If you want to sample the menu, just head over to 262 Liverpool Street at some point this month.
In our own ways, we all fill our homes with interesting items. That's what galleries and museums obviously do, too. Imagine what must sit in their collections — the things they can't always display, and often don't, but are worth holding onto for an array of reasons. Actually, hit up Sydney's Powerhouse Museum until Sunday, February 4, 2024 and you'll no longer simply have to wonder. The Ultimo venue's latest huge exhibition is 1001 Remarkable Objects. That title is indeed descriptive, with the site's curators, led by curatorium chair Leo Schofield AM, diving into its vast store of pieces. Showcasing 1001 items might sound hefty, but there's a whopping 500,000 in the full collection, making those selections tricky work. Free to attend, this exhibition spans a wide variety of objects — celebrity-worn outfits, mousetrap-making machines, ceramic peacock and more. Four highlights were all once donned by someone, well-known names and samurais alike. Kylie Minogue's Sydney 2000 Olympics 'showgirl' costume is on display, as is Nicole Kidman's 'pink diamonds' Moulin Rouge! dress and, still on Baz Luhrmann, the 'fruity mambo' costumes from Strictly Ballroom the Musical. Or, you can peer at an Edo-period samurai warrior's armour. Featuring pieces that've never been shown before, and filling 25 rooms, Schofield's selections also cover the only surviving fragment of the Lockheed Altair aircraft Lady Southern Cross that Sir Charles Kingsford Smith flew in 1935 on his final flight, that 1.5-metre-tall peacock from 1870s, a Detroit Electric car made in 1917 and part of the original transatlantic cable from 1858. And, there's more than 100 pieces of jewellery, including mourning pieces crafted from human hair — plus a focus on glass, as gleaming through French and Venetian examples from the 1800 and 1900s, plus Australian and international glass artworks. Images: Zan Wimberley.
Real Festival is returning to Penrith for 2023 and this year's offering promises to be one of the most enticing yet. Expect live entertainment, food trucks, markets, fun workshops, family activities and a festival bar — all set in the beautiful Tench Reserve by the Nepean River. Running from Friday, September 15, to Sunday, September 17, Real is the perfect way to welcome the arrival of spring with the fam, mates, or that special someone. Plus, with the cost of living rising ever higher (sorry I refuse to pay any more than $5 for a coffee), free festivals like Real are a welcome addition to the social calendar. The festival takes full advantage of the riverside location, with kayaking, stand-up paddle boarding, Nepean Belle cruises, dragon boat sessions, and even a jet-pack show over the water if you fancy a bit of second-hand adrenaline. Though do keep in mind these on-the-water activities are for the Sunday program only, so don't bother bringing your bathers on the Friday or Saturday (or do, we're not your parents). As the sun sets, enjoy the Friday and Saturday exclusive night programming. Peruse the illuminated interactive art displays, let out your inner child at the neon-lit open-air arcade, or get in on more neon action at the "Silent DisGlow" or the "Roller Rink by Busways". And once you're tuckered out, take in some of the myriad live music and performances that will run throughout the festival. Feeling crafty? Real will play host to a wide variety of workshops to suit all ages and interests, including kid's yoga, plant identification, hula hooping, weaving, instrument making, pot decorating, beaded jewellery creation, and even a whole "Circus Drop Zone" which will help you brush up on your trapeze, juggling, and unicycle skills (c'mon, you know you're rusty). And once you're done expanding your abilities, take a relaxing stroll through the eclectic range of artisan markets. And of course, we cannot gloss over the most important aspect of any festival — the food. With a haul of options courtesy of more than 20 of Sydney's best food trucks, it's a tough ask to make a pick. Though you really can't go wrong with BBQ from Big Jay's Smokehouse, a crispy onion flower from Burger Head as a side, chased with a fresh Dutch Stroopwafel from Stroopbros — a goated combination if there ever was one. Real Festival will run from 4pm–10pm on Friday and Saturday, and from 10am–3pm on the Sunday. See you there.
Put down the books. Step away from the screen. For your next history lesson, you're busting out your best fancy footwork. History of House commemorates dance music through the decades, covering tunes and beats from half a century. 70s disco? Check. Pop from the 80s? Tick there, too. All things house ever since? That's the star of the show. History of House boasts two big-name talents as well: Groove Terminator and the Soweto Gospel Choir. The Australia DJ and the Grammy-winning, world-famous choral group have been joining forces to break house music's origins and evolution down — and, yes, bring the house down — since the 2020 Adelaide Fringe, where it won the Best Music Show award. House music with the choir that've played with Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder and Queen — plus Bono and Celine Dion — isn't the type of gig that you get to see every day. Now, it's Sydney's time to make shapes, with the concert hitting up the Harbour City on Friday, October 6. Your dance floor for the evening: The Barracks Precinct in Manly. Images: Helen Page / Brisbane Festival.
Sydney fine-diner nel doesn't do anything by halves. When it shows its love for Disney, Moulin Rouge!, Australian native ingredients, British food or KFC on its plates, Nelly Robinson's restaurant goes all in with decadent multi-course degustations. The same applies to Christmas, with the eatery's festive end-of-year spreads a seasonal culinary highlight. But who wants to get jolly just once a year? Not most of us, and not this Wentworth Avenue spot. In 2024, nel is jumping on the Christmas in July trend with Sunday roasts every week. Of course, nel's take on anything it sets its ingredients to is never like anyone else's. So, your winter lunches can now include a nel spread with lamb shoulder, smoked salmon with caviar and dill, and sticky toffee pudding among the dishes — and that's just part of it. This is a four-time-only affair for this year, because there are four Sundays this July, with the festive offering kicking off on Sunday, July 7. You'll pay $85 for your taste of merriment, and you'll also need your wallet for any beverages on top. Bookings are essential. Christmas jumpers are optional (but you know that you want to wear one anyway).
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.
If you want to get your hands on a bunch of Sydney's best Mexican food all in one spot, then The Entertainment Quarter is the place to be this weekend. Sydney's tamale queen Rosa Cienfuegos, Blacktown's hot new birria taco joint Smoking Gringos, Carbon and Baja Seafood will all be on-site across Saturday, November 4–Sunday, November 5 to fill your weekend with flavour at the free Dia de los Muertos Fiesta. Joining this all-star cast of Sydney favourites will be a flash tattoo station, street art installations, Latin-American bands and lucha libre wrestling. Mexican-Australia tattoo artist Skullavera will be in command of the station showcasing designs based on Calaveras and traditional Mexican symbols. If you get thirsty throughout the day, a couple of Mexico's most iconic purveyors of beverages Patron and Jarritos will both have stands set up, offering margaritas, palomas, Mexican beers and Jarritos' popular soft drinks. Patron will also be hosting a tequila masterclass for anyone looking to expand their palate. The kids are invited to the Dia de los Muertos Fiesta too, with face painting, crafts and family-friendly games all part of the program.
In the film that brought her global acclaim, Australian filmmaker Jennifer Peedom climbed up in the world — and she hasn't looked back. Sherpa explored tense times on Mount Everest, while her next documentary Mountain pondered the world's highest peaks, their beauty and their allure. With River after that, Peedom didn't stare at towering land masses. But she does peer from great heights at waterways that snake across continents. And, she once again teamed up with none other than Willem Dafoe (Poor Things), who narrates this poetic musing on just how rivers shape the planet. Watching River itself is a meditative experience, because looking at absolutely stunning sights shot in 39 countries, listening to lyrical narration, and hearing a stirring score featuring Bach, Ravel, Jonny Greenwood, Radiohead and more has that effect. Making the movie even better is River Live in Concert with the Australian Chamber Orchestra, which returns for another nationwide tour in 2024, this time with Indigenous Australian didgeridoo player and vocalist William Barton joining in. The ACO and Barton will play the film's soundtrack right there in front of you as you watch. Sydneysiders can get in on the action on Saturday, February 10, Tuesday, February 13 and Wednesday, February 14 at City Recital Hall — and on Sunday, February 11 at Sydney Opera House. Event images: Nick Walker.
As Fleabag knew, and also Sherlock as well, Andrew Scott has the type of empathetic face that makes people want to keep talking to him. Playing the hot priest in Phoebe Waller-Bridge's (Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny) acclaimed comedy, he was the ultimate listener. Even as the Moriarty to Benedict Cumberbatch's (The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar) Holmes, and with a game always afoot, conversation flowed. All of Us Strangers puts this innate air — this sensation that to be in Scott's company is to want to unburden yourself to his welcoming ears — at its tender and feverishly beating heart, this time with Paul Mescal (Foe) as one of his discussion partners. Dreamy and contemplative, haunting and heartfelt, and also delicate and devastating, the fifth film by Weekend and 45 Years writer/director Andrew Haigh, which is his first since 2017's Lean on Pete, is stunningly cast with Scott in seeing-is-feeling mode as its isolated screenwriter protagonist alone. That Scott is joined by Mescal, Claire Foy (Women Talking) and Jamie Bell (Shining Girls) gives All of Us Strangers one of the finest four-hander casts in recent memory. Awards bodies clearly agree, with nods going around for everyone (alongside wins for Best Film and Best Director, the British Independent Film Awards gave all four of the feature's core cast members nominations, with Mescal scoring the Best Supporting Performance trophy, for instance). Haigh isn't merely preternaturally talented at picking the exact right actors to play his on-screen figures, but it's one of his most-crucial skills, as every performance in his latest shattering picture demonstrates. It comes as no surprise that Scott, Mescal, Foy and Bell are all excellent. It's similarly hardly unexpected that Haigh has made another movie that cuts so emotionally deep that viewers will feel as if they've been within its frames. Combine these stars with this filmmaker, though, and a feature that was always likely to combine its exceptional parts into a perfect sum is somehow even more affecting and astonishing. That been-there vibe, like everyone watching has been Scott's Adam or Mescal's Harry — or Foy and Bell as the former's mum and dad — contributes to an ethereal atmosphere: anyone who has ever wondered where their memories and dreams end and reality commences, as we all do daily in an emotional sense, understands. So it is that Adam is caught between the past, the present and perhaps the future as he works on a new project, which gets him peering back at his childhood. Like sleepwalking, he's pulled to his 80s-era home where he discovers the parents that he lost just before he was 12 awaiting. They look the same as they did the last time that he saw them, but he's definitely an adult. What does a fortysomething queer man who grew up in the period, never had the chance to tell his mother and father who he was, and has a lifetime's worth of truths to share and grief to process, say and do when he gets a fantastical opportunity? That's one of All of Us Strangers' strands. Amid Adam's dancing with his nostalgia, this adaptation of Taichi Yamada's novel Strangers also flits from his family to his romantic relationships. He experiences almost everyone's biggest wish when Mescal's Harry comes knocking on his door with a bottle of whisky in hand in the apartment block that they both dwell in. They're the London building's only two residents, in fact. One lonely spirit recognises another and, after an initial rejection on Adam's side — he's that accustomed to being on his own — passion springs. In his flat and in ketamine-induced reveries at clubs, Adam and Harry see possibilities and find solace. They have deep-and-meaningful "this is why I am why I am" chats. They sink into their new idyll, as All of Us Strangers' audience does into the poignant flick. Despite what the movie's title proclaims about humanity even within its closest bonds, they try intensely and sincerely not to be outsiders to each other. With the Pet Shop Boys' version of 'Always on My Mind' and Frankie Goes to Hollywood's 'The Power of Love' on the soundtrack also aiding in setting a swooning mood, this is an intimate tale that innately and sensitively appreciates being consumed by the events, traumas and absences that've shaped you — and just as intuitively and compassionately recognises not just the perspective-altering delights but also the comforts of falling for someone. But Haigh doesn't stop there. Making a ghost story, a love story and a queer portrait in one, his film is characteristically layered. It also feels like the continuation of dialogues started in his past work, capturing what it means to be a gay man as per Weekend, to navigate life coloured by tragedy as in 45 Years and to yearn for a guiding hand as Lean on Pete did. Shooting scenes in the house that Haigh himself grew up in also helps build a movie that immaculately matches its aesthetics with its emotions. The decades-gone-by cosiness of Adam's time with his mum and dad is pivotal as All of Us Strangers conveys a certainty applicable to all parents and children: no matter how old the latter get, we all become kids again around the people who brought us into this world, frozen in time in our heads and hearts while weathering the passing years externally. As well as making ample and telling use of reflections and windows, Living cinematographer Jamie Ramsay heroes cooler tones whenever Adam is alone, but warmer hues when he has company. That touch ensures that embracing the fact that existing means co-existing with our histories like we're glimpsing reminders everywhere, as the feature does, observes the joys along with the sorrows and struggles. Penned in 1987 and translated into English in 2003, Yamada's Strangers has earned the cinematic treatment before courtesy of 1988 horror film The Discarnates by the late, great Nobuhiko Obayashi (who gave the world one of Japan's all-time entries in the genre with 1977's House). There's never any question that All of Us Strangers is Haigh's movie, however — or that his iteration is a wonder that reckons with heartbreak and hope in tandem. That's the power of the British filmmaker's output, including TV's Looking and The North Water. Whichever screen he's crafting stories for, the end results always linger on the mind. Scott's staggering — and subtle, and anchoring — portrayal is one of the latest pieces of proof. Mescal's unforgettably naturalistic supporting turn, plus the chemistry between the pair, provide others. No one leaves All of Us Strangers as an alien to its lived-in emotions, either — or, as Haigh so perceptively knows, goes into it that way to begin with.
Your phone doesn't always need to be glued to your hand, but that's often easier said than done. Your nights out don't need photographic evidence to prove that they occurred, but that's also rarely the case anymore. This Never Happened is rallying against that status quo, however, via the Lane 8's record label's dance parties. The distraction-free This Never Happens Presents gigs first arrived in Australia in 2023 — and in 2025, they're returning for more evenings of shenanigans without phones and cameras. Pics or it didn't happen? Not here. You won't have a screen in your hand — or face. You won't be swiping, texting or doing anything else with the gadget that we're all addicted to, either. Attendees will have their phones taped upon arrival, because these dance music get-togethers are all about connecting IRL and in the moment. French house producer Massane and Dublin-based DJ EMBRZ are headlining the two parties, with support from Samantha Loveridge — following in the footsteps of Le Youth, Sultan & Shepard and PARIS in 2023. Whatever their sets bring, you'll just have to rely upon your noggin to remember all of the highlights afterwards. [caption id="attachment_979217" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Megan Burch[/caption] This Never Happens Presents' 2025 shindigs will hit Sydney's Liberty Hall on Saturday, January 18, complete with Massane and Embrz making their Australian debuts. When it last made the trip Down Under, This Never Happened held its first shows in this part of the world, after launching in 2016, signing artists who've toured with producer and DJ Lane 8, and initially hosting parties in 2017 and 2019 elsewhere around the globe. Clearly, its Aussie visit was a hit, hence the return tour. Top image: Megan Burch.
Calling all Sydneysiders looking to get the jump on this year's silly season: have your holiday shopping list at the ready. Woollahra Hotel is once again hosting its pop-up Christmas Market — a one stop shop for unique holiday decorations, festive treats, special crafts and customised gifts. This annual market isn't just a chance to knock out your gift list. It's also a celebration of the wonderful Woollahra community. Over 20 local businesses will come together to offer exclusive deals that are only available for this event. Grab that perfect Christmas wine from Moncur Cellars, shop for bespoke jewellery with Mitchell Maker Jewellery and find artisan homewares by the good folks at The Bay Tree. When you're done shopping for others, be sure to treat yourself with a Christmas cocktail as you enjoy live music from the Arthur Washington Quintet at the top level of the hotel from 4pm until late. Whether you're shopping for others, looking to treat yourself or you're just getting into the holiday spirit, this pop-up market has it all. Support local businesses in the spirit of the season and mark your calendars for a merry night to remember.
There's no doubting who Bob Marley: One Love is about, but the Reinaldo Marcus Green (King Richard)-directed biopic also brings two other big-screen portraits of music superstars to mind. There's always a dance through a legend's history flickering somewhere, or close to it, with the initial dramatised look at the reggae icon arriving after Bohemian Rhapsody and Elvis both proved major hits in recent years. Where the first, which focused on Freddie Mercury, had Live Aid, Bob Marley: One Love has the One Love Peace Concert. Both are gigs to build a movie around, and both features have done just that. Baz Luhrmann's portrait of the king of rock 'n' roll wanted its audience to understand what it was like to watch its namesake, be in his presence and feel entranced by every hip thrust — and, obviously without the gyrating pelvis, Bob Marley: One Love also opts for that approach. Enter Kingsley Ben-Adir as Bob Marley, in a vital piece of casting. Although it may not earn him an Oscar as Bohemian Rhapsody did Rami Malek (Oppenheimer), or even a nomination as Elvis scored for Austin Butler (Masters of the Air), the British actor turns in a phenomenal performance. He's worlds away from being a Ken in Barbie. He isn't in wholly new territory seeing that he played Malcolm X in One Night in Miami and Barack Obama in TV series The Comey Rule. He's also magnetic and mesmerising — and, in the process, expresses how and why Marley was magnetic and mesmerising. Ben-Adir's vocals are blended with Marley's. Accordingly, you're largely listening to the singer himself. But there's a presence about Ben-Adir in the part, perfecting Jamaican patois, getting kinetic and uninhibited in his movement while he's behind the microphone, radiating charisma, but also conveying purpose and self-possession. It's a portrayal that's as entrancing and alive as the music that's always echoing alongside it; with Marley's discography, that's saying something. Ben-Adir shares the part with Quan-Dajai Henriques, the acting debutant who gives the movie its younger version of Marley. That comes via sporadic flashbacks, which means that Lashana Lynch (The Marvels) also shares her role as Bob's wife and backup singer Rita with Nia Ashi (another feature first-timer) as the teen version. Green and his co-scribes Terence Winter (an Academy Award-nominee for The Wolf of Wall Street), Frank E Flowers (LeBron James biopic Shooting Stars) and Zach Baylin (Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story, and returning from King Richard) ground their picture in the elder Marley's life, though — not that, because he died at the age of 36, he could ever truly be deemed elder. The bulk of the feature is set between 1976–78, and between two Kingston concerts. Both were designed to help address Jamaica's political unrest, with two parties clashing and the impact of British colonialism still felt. Not only that peace and freedom were instrumental in Marley's message, but why, is a core element of the film. "Do you believe music can end the violence?" Marley is asked in Bob Marley: One Love's opening, where he's fronting the press days out from 1976's Smile Jamaica show. Green signals one of the movie's fundamental musings at the outset, then, as well as his intent to unpack how his subject aimed to counter not just political but human turmoil through his music and Rastafarian beliefs (his initial embrace of the religion, as well as his early courtship with Rita, fuels most of the film's jumps backwards). Marley is also queried about whether he harbours any fears about putting on the gig. He says no and soon demonstrates it, after an attempt is made on his life at his home studio two days out from the concert. Rita was among the victims shot, and survived. The show goes on, then Marley goes into exile in London, while Rita takes the kids to the US. To get to Bob Marley: One Love's second big Jamaican performance involves charting the defining aspect of Marley's career during that period: 1977 album Exodus. Recorded in the UK, and home to not just its own titular track but the flick's (and also 'Jamming', 'Turn Your Lights Down Low' and 'Three Little Birds'), it's as influential as albums get — and, again, unfurling the trains of thought driving it is one of the feature's motivations. There's few surprises in how Green brings this to the screen, complete with recording sessions, producer Chris Blackwell's (James Norton, Happy Valley) fingerprints and montages of the finished product flying off shelves, plus the rapturous response as it's toured. That there's several established templates in giving a star's story the filmic treatment reverberates through Bob Marley: One Love, in fact, even as it avoids the dutiful birth-to-death timeline. But the movie always has Ben-Adir imparting energy and vibrancy, and Lynch as well — and a determination to make this Rita's tale, stepping into the complications in their marriage, as well as Bob's. Notably unrelated to One Love: The Bob Marley Musical, the stage production about the legend — even if it uses plenty of the same Bob Marley and The Wailers songs, such as 'Get Up, Stand Up', 'War', 'Redemption Song', 'No Woman, No Cry', 'Is This Love' and 'I Shot the Sheriff' — Bob Marley: One Love unavoidably hits familiar beats. Enlivening those predictable moves are its tunes, compelling story and powerhouse central performances. This is a deeply respectful effort: Rita is among the producers, alongside her and Bob's children Ziggy and Cedella; Stephen, their third-born, is the music supervisor. Love was always going to shine through. The tunes were always going to resound with power and affection. The tale itself was always certain to prove inherently absorbing. Its casting couldn't be more important, however. After a lengthy search to find its Bob, Ben-Adir is a force of warmth, calm and potency — gifting the picture the kind of portrayal that it couldn't live without — while Lynch is formidably fierce as Rita. For a movie about someone so revolutionary, Bob Marley: One Love mightn't earn that description itself, but it does deliver the tribute it's striving for, celebrate Marley's message as much as his music and contextualise one helluva record. Indeed, where Bohemian Rhapsody was the silver-screen equivalent of a greatest-hits album and Elvis took its cues from concert spectaculars, Bob Marley: One Love is a jam-session type of flick. When it briefly recreates live shows, it does so with verve, as aided by cinematographer Robert Elswit (also back from King Richard). And yet, while Smile Jamaica and the One Love Peace Concert are pivotal — including structurally to the narrative — they aren't the primary way that the film lets its audience experience Marley's impact. When Bob Marley: One Love dives into Bob's creativity and just enjoys being in the moment with its take on the singer, it cuts deeper; no one is merely jamming in making this movie, but it hopes its viewers like jamming with Marley, too.
Heartbreak is two souls wanting nothing more than each other, but life having other plans. So goes Robot Dreams, another dialogue-free marvel from Spanish filmmaker Pablo Berger, who had audiences feeling without words uttered with 2012's Blancanieves — and showed then with black and white imagery, as he does now with animation, that he's a master at deeply expressive visual storytelling. His fourth picture as a director was nominated for Best Animated Feature at the 2024 Academy Awards. In most years, if it wasn't up against Studio Ghibli's The Boy and the Heron, it would've taken home the Oscar. It earns not just affection instead, but the awe deserved of a movie that perfects the sensation of longing for someone to navigate life with, finding them, adoring them, then having fate doing what fate does by throwing up complications. Usually this would be a boy-meets-girl, boy-meets-boy or girl-meets-girl story. Here, it's a dog-meets-robot tale. The time: the 80s, with nods to Tab and Pong to prove it. The place: a version of Manhattan where anthropomorphised animals are the only inhabitants — plus mechanised offsiders that, just by placing an order and putting together the contents of the package that arrives, can be built as instant friends. Eating macaroni meals for one and watching TV solo in his small East Village apartment each evening, Dog is achingly lonely when he orders his Amica 2000 after seeing an infomercial. As he tinkers to construct Robot, pigeons watch on from the window, but they've never been his company. Soon exuberantly strutting the streets hand in hand with his maker, the android is a dream pal, however, but this kismet pairing isn't what gives Robot Dreams its name. What do two beings, human, animal, automaton or otherwise, do when they're falling head over heels for each other's presence? They glide through their suddenly sunny existence like there's nothing else in the world, joined at the hip and the spirit. This pair explore. They mosey blissfully around New York, which finally feels like a playground for Dog, rather than a place where everyone else is happy. They eat hot dogs from street vendors and dance on rollerskates in Central Park. They swoon over a shared favourite song — embracing the pull of Earth, Wind & Fire's 'September' (because if it can't bring folks together, cementing connections and glorious memories, then nothing can). As the summer nears its end, Dog and Robot also decamp to Coney Island, to the beach, for a cheery day of swimming and sunbathing, and also of relaxing slumbering on the shore. Alongside slip-slop-slap advice, plus the rule that everyone is told as a kid about waiting before swimming after eating, Robot Dreams adds another piece of guidance: watch out that your metal mate doesn't rust and short-circuit from the saltwater and sea breeze if you're taking them out for sun, surf and sand. When Robot can't move after the duo wake up, Dog's only choice is to leave him there overnight, then return the next day with the requisite supplies. The season is truly saying farewell, though — and September, the month, takes on a more mournful tone than in the disco classic that cribs its moniker, as the film also goes on to reflect as the song keeps popping up. When Dog endeavours to bring Robot home, the beach is shut and gated. The reopening date: June 1 the following year, when summer approaches again. In Berger's adaptation of Sara Varon's 2007 graphic novel of the same name — the author and illustrator's Chicken and Cat also gets a shoutout within the flick's frames — Blade Runner's "do androids dream of electric sheep?" isn't the question. Visions frolic through Robot's bucket-shaped head while he sleeps, all toying with the only query that anyone watching is asking: will Robot and Dog reunite? Robot Dreams is a movie of yearning, a picture about the unwanted surprises that can derail contentment and a portrait of the fact that that's the fundamental reality of life. This hauntingly candid truth blows through the film gently but crisply, like a flurry from the ocean on a mostly still day. It sweeps through The Wizard of Oz-inspired reveries and solitary Halloweens, too, plus new friendships forged with a family of birds, and also with the outgoing and outdoorsy Duck. With its line-heavy 2D animation creating a world awash with loving details — the spooky costumes come October 31 are just one delight — this poignant tale is also one of reality and resilience. Everything that Robot Dreams muses on is handled with soul-stirring tenderness and astute recognition, such as the way that fulfilment can flow out with the tide for no other reason than that's how things work sometimes, that living is a balance of weathering disappointment and appreciating joy when and where you can interlace fingers with it, and that knowing when to ride what the next wave brings in is one of the most-crucial lessons there is. Premiering at the 2023 Cannes Film Festival, and winning Best Film at the Annecy International Animation Film Festival the same year, Robot Dreams first debuted before animated series Carol & the End of the World hit Netflix; however, they share the same emotional texture, and the same being-seen sensation, like they've peered into hearts and minds to render the results with strokes, shapes and colours. No words are needed to tell this narrative not only because that's Berger's savvy decision, but because no words are required to describe a journey that everyone has taken. We've all been Dog and we've all been Robot — forced to move on and left behind, that is — and so pictures here do say far more than dialogue ever could about the feeling of standing in both shoes (or paws, or metallic feet). As much of a toe-tapping gem now as it has been since its 1978 release and always will be, 'September' also conveys everything, crooning as it does about love changin' minds, chasin' clouds away, getting souls singin' and hearts ringin', and also about recalling such golden dreams and shiny days gone by. Do you remember revelling in the glow of someone that completes you, pining for them when they aren't by your side, and realising that everything is transient, elation and sorrow included? Thanks to Robot Dreams, you will.
Lebanese charcoal chicken joint Henrietta is serving up something new for autumn, and it involves an 'All-You-Can-Eat Charcoal Chicken' menu. Starting Saturday, April 13, guests can indulge in 90 minutes of unlimited succulent charcoal chicken paired with traditional sides for just $48 per person. [caption id="attachment_949146" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Photo by Jiwon Kim[/caption] You can expect hot chicks, crispy chips, creamy toum, fattoush salad, Henrietta's signature hummus, and pickles. "The 'All-You-Can-Eat Charcoal Chicken' offer is for our loyal guests who are obsessed with our chicken or for those who are new to Henrietta and simply want to gather round the table and enjoy the true spirit of Middle-Eastern hospitality," says Ibby Moubadder, ESCA Group's co-founder. Of course, an all-you-can-eat wouldn't be complete without some booze. Patrons have the option to go for a bottomless upgrade on select wine and beer for an additional $35 per person. Head over to Henrietta at Shop 1/500 Crown St, Surry Hills for the new 'All-You-Can-Eat Charcoal Chicken' menu, available during lunch hours on the weekend. [caption id="attachment_949148" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Photo by Jiwon Kim[/caption]
It's a film about searching for treasure, and it is indeed a treasure. La Chimera is also dreamy in its look and, while watching, makes its viewers feel as if they've been whisked into one. There's much that fantasies are made of in writer/director Alice Rohrwacher's fourth feature, which follows Corpo Celeste, The Wonders and Happy as Lazzaro — God's Own Country breakout and The Crown star Josh O'Connor leading the picture as a British archaeologist raiding tombs in 80s-era Italy chief among them. Thinking about Lara Croft, be it the game, or the Angelina Jolie (in 2001 and 2003 flicks)- or Alicia Vikander (2018's Tomb Raider)-led movies, is poking into the wrong patch of soil. Thinking instead about the way that life is built upon the dead again and again, and upon unearthed secrets as well, is part of what makes La Chimera gleam. Rohrwacher's latest, which also boasts her Happy as Lazzaro collaborator Carmela Covino as a collaborating writer — plus Marco Pettenello (Io vivo altrove!) — resembles an illusion not just because it's a rare mix of both magical-realist and neorealist in one, too (well, rare for most who aren't this director). In addition, this blend of romance and drama alongside tragedy and comedy sports its mirage-esque vibe thanks to being so welcomely easy to get lost in. As a snapshot of a tombaroli gang in Tuscany that pilfers from Etruscan crypts to try to get by, it's a feature to dig into. As an example of how poetic a film can be, it's one to soar with. The loose red thread that weaves throughout La Chimera's frames, intriguing folks within the movie, also embodies how viewers should react: we want to chase it and hold on forever, even as we know that, as the feature's 130 minutes tick by, the picture is destined to slip through our fingers. Wearing his crumpled linen suits and residing in his makeshift shack, O'Connor's Arthur knows what it's like to not be able to grasp tightly onto what you want. Just as the movie that he's in transports its audience four decades back, he's stuck in the past, obsessing over the missing Beniamina (Yile Yara Vianello, The Beautiful Summer). Stolen Italian artefacts are his trade, with friends to help with the excavations but his own divining methods (rod included) locating where an invisible X marks the spot. When he's not dowsing and delving, or offloading the loot he extracts to antiquities dealers who profit from and perpetuate the cycle of tombaroli thievery far more than Arthur and his pals, the mansion of Beniamina's mother Flora (Isabella Rossellini, Spaceman) is his frequent pilgrimage. It was equally true of The Wonders and Happy as Lazzaro: a movie by Rohrwacher, and with cinematographer Hélène Louvart (Disco Boy, The Lost Daughter, Never Rarely Sometimes Always) behind the lens, is a movie that looks ethereal and earthy at once. Shot on a mix of different film stocks (35-millimetre, 16-millimetre and Super16), La Chimera's imagery virtually floats, but it similarly sees the dirt and the grit. Arthur's journey couldn't better live and breathe that contrast as he illicitly uncovers riches in a marvellous setting, but not without the grime and the risk that goes with it. He also starts the feature freshly released from jail for his grave-robbing manner of making a living, then spends his time chasing more 2000-year-old pieces — pottery, statues and such — that mysterious broker Spartaco will pay for, as punctuated with chats with Flora and a burgeoning connection with her housekeeper Italia (Carol Duarte, Segunda Chamada). The language of archaeology, whether taking from the dead or studying history through its physical remains, is the language of discovering and seeking — and mine, disinter and pursue, Arthur does, including with his feelings and hopes. He pines for his lost love while burrowing down where valuables, secrets and lives gone by are kept; he's navigating his own Orpheus and Eurydice as well. He's haunted, plunging literally to where such torments spring from in humanity's eternal grappling with mortality, and also emotionally and psychologically into memories that gnaw as if they too are possessed. A mastery of symbolism is among Rohrwacher's many skills as a filmmaker; however, so is a command of effortlessly lingering in the realm, as La Chimera does, between the tangible and intangible. Here's another talent to her name: casting, especially with O'Connor standing in front of the camera. While Rossellini's involvement is a magnificent touch — only she can switch to marauding from warm, and back, so naturalistically and so quickly; also, the link with Italian cinema history that she brings via her director father Roberto Rossellini, the neorealist great, is so wonderfully apt — O'Connor is an exquisite choice as La Chimera's lead. Rumpled charm, lost-soul melancholy, drifting and yearning, a hold on his temper that's flimsier than a deal on the relics black market: as Arthur, he conveys or has them all. A picture as enigmatic as this needs someone at its centre that's able to both go with its flow and be grounded — and again, in a role that joins Mothering Sunday, Emma, Hope Gap and Challengers on his post-God's Own Country resume, that's O'Connor. As La Chimera proves evocative and expressive, and loose and playful, it takes its audience on an adventure so layered and distinctive that Rohrwacher could be the only one guiding it. Thoughtful and contemplative as her film also is, it has clear eyes to stare daggers at social inequality, and towards those who think that they can own the past. Forming a trilogy with The Wonders and Happy as Lazzaro — one about beekeepers, the other about sharecroppers, each fascinated with communities that are far from the everyday now, as with the tombaroli — La Chimera almost feels as if it has pulled off a heist itself, then. In ensuring that every single element of the movie works perfectly, this gem steals itself a place as an unforgettable piece of cinema; long may it keep being cherished.
Celebrating all things LGBTQIA+ in Australia is easy this summer. In fact, it's historic. For the first time ever both Down Under and the southern hemisphere, WorldPride is heading our way, joining Sydney's already jam-packed lineup of queer events. That's the cultural landscape the returning Mardi Gras Film Festival slides into in 2023 — and it's marking the occasion with a massive lineup of movies to celebrate its own 30th-anniversary milestone. Fans of queer cinema, rejoice: this annual Sydney film fest is screening 166 films at eight venues around the city, running from Wednesday, February 15–Thursday, March 2 at locations such as Event Cinemas on George Street and in Hurstville, Dendy Cinema Newtown, the Hayden Orpheum, Ritz Cinemas, Casula Powerhouse, the Westpac Open Air Cinema and the Alumni Green at the University of Technology. The festival kicks off with coming-of-age film Of an Age, which heads to Sydney after also opening 2022 Melbourne International Film Festival, and marks the latest from Australian You Won't Be Alone director Goran Stolevski. Joining it as a MGFF bookend is closing night's The Venus Effect, with the Danish movie about two young women in love enjoying its Aussie premiere. And, just as huge is All the Beauty and the Bloodshed, 2022's Venice Film Festival Golden Lion-winning documentary about queer artist Nan Goldin, her life and career, and her battle against the billionaire Sackler family. With the full fest program including 100-plus sessions in cinema, outdoors and on-demand — as well as panel discussions, workshops, networking events and parties — other highlights include two world-premiere screenings, glimpses back to the past and free sessions. Documentary Trans Glamore and camp comedy The Winner Takes It All will make their bows at MGFF; Vegas in Space and an episode of Aussie soap Number 96 will hit the big screen; retro sessions of Pride and Raya and the Last Dragon also get a spin; and new queer comedy specials by Joel Creasy and Rhys Nicholson will nab a run, without attendees needing to pay a cent. Or, there's a special Westpac Openair session of the Cate Blanchett-starring Tár, which looks set to score the homegrown talent another Oscar; doco The Giants, about Dr Bob Brown becoming Australia's first openly gay member of parliament; Cannes Un Certain Regard Jury Prize-winner Joyland, a Pakistani effort about a romance between a trans woman and a married man; and moving Moroccan drama The Blue Caftan. Plus, other standouts include The Longest Weekend, about three siblings in Sydney's Inner West; inner-city cowboy love story Lonesome; Uýra: The Rising Forest, focusing on trans-indigenous artist Uýra; In From the Side, about an affair between two members of a fictional South London gay rugby club; and My Emptiness and I, honing in on a young trans call-centre worker. And, that online component? It's showing 21 movies nationwide — including, obviously, to Sydneysiders at home.
Right now, it's the 2020s, not the 1920s. If you'd like to jump back a century while sitting in a cinema, however, Babylon is here to help. And, if you'd like to see the latest film from jazz-loving, Oscar-winning La La Land director Damien Chazelle before everyone else — at the Australian premiere no less, and with stars Margot Robbie and Diego Calva in attendance — you can on Monday, January 16. Because big premiere screenings aren't just for Hollywood — aka the place where Babylon is set, right in the middle of its Golden Age — Sydney's State Theatre is rolling out the carpet for Robbie and Calva. And, for Sydneysiders as well. These kinds of famous folk-filled screenings aren't often open to the paying public, but you can indeed nab a ticket to this one. Babylon follows Robbie, Calva and Brad Pitt as they wreak havoc throughout Tinseltown when the silents were in full swing, then try to navigate the jump to talkies. Robbie (Amsterdam) plays Nellie LaRoy, a 1920s actor. After winning an Oscar for Once Upon a Time in Hollywood — set in a different era of Los Angeles' past — Pitt (Bullet Train) plays Jack Conrad, an industry veteran. And Calva (Narcos: Mexico) joins them Manny Torres, who desperately wants to be in the industry. As the decade comes to an end and Hollywood changes, these three characters have much to grapple with in this tale of ambition and excess. Expect decadently staged parties galore in the process — the kind that look right out of The Great Gatsby, or at least as if Chazelle is channelling his inner Baz Luhrmann. And if you weren't already thinking that anyway, up pops Tobey Maguire in only his fifth movie role since The Great Gatsby. Tickets to head along to Babylon's Australian premiere cost $55.94. Dress your 1920s best, obviously. Images: Paramount Pictures.
Dance and classical aren't music genres you'd usually find swirling around in the same basket — unless you have a particular bent for the orchestral 'Sandstorm' covers found in the depths of YouTube. Synthony — A Generation of Dance Music is here to prove that the disciplines go hand in hand. Touring Australia since 2019, the event is returning to Sydney from 7.30pm on Saturday, April 22, 2023. It'll see a live orchestra join forces with a selection of DJs and onstage performers at the Aware Super Theatre, all to play the biggest dance tracks of the last 30 years — think tunes by Disclosure, Eric Prydz, Flume, Calvin Harris, Wilkinson and more. Expect the venue to take a few cues from the nightclub scene, with lights, lasers and mapped video all part of the experience — and a selection of dance floor bangers note-for-note. The lineup of talent includes the Metropolitan Orchestra; conductor Sarah-Grace Williams; and Rogue Traders' Natalie Bassingthwaighte, The Potbelleez' Ilan Kidron, Thandie Phoenix, Cassie McIvor, Greg Gould, Matty O, Mobin Master and host Aroha.
There's nothing like a bit of hometown rivalry to get people fired up, particularly in sport. The palpable tension, hysterical fans and nail-biting action erupting throughout a sporting stadium keeps punters on the edge of their seats from start to finish in any enemy showdown. And that's exactly what you can expect when one of Sydney's greatest sporting derbies takes place this July. On Saturday, July 30, you and your crew can catch all the suspenseful action in person when the Sydney Swans take on the Greater Western Sydney Giants at the Sydney Cricket Ground (SCG). The game is set to kick off at 2.10pm and Concrete Playground readers can secure discounted tickets to the category two–five seats. Simply use the code DERBY at checkout to grab four tickets for $99 and save yourself $50. Got heaps of mates who love footy? No problem. You can nab up to 20 tickets per transaction using this offer. Get in quick if you want to take advantage of this discount though as the offer is limited. The Swans are currently sitting ahead of the Giants on the ladder, but last time the two teams met at the SCG the Giants came out on top by two points. With masses of hopeful fans cheering on their respective teams in the stadium, this could be anyone's game. Keen to head along and barrack for your team? Round up your fellow AFL fanatics for a suspenseful afternoon of sport at the SCG. For more information and to book tickets to this must-see-live game, visit the website.
Music panel shows weren't invented when Spicks and Specks and Rockwiz started airing in Australia back in 2005, but the two series became Aussie icons quickly. Seemingly everyone watched one, the other or both, with the pair earning a devoted following by realising a pivotal fact: as well as seeing musicians live, audiences also love watching them banter, bust out their smarts and just generally connecting over music. Also taking that idea and running with it is Georgia Mooney's Supergroup, which originally debuted in Sydney in 2019 and is now taking its live variety show on the road. It's inspired by Spicks and Specks and Rockwiz, obviously; focuses on stellar songwriters; and also includes live music and interviews as well. If that sounds like your kind of night out, music fans in Sydney can rediscover Supergroup's wonders at the Factory Theatre on Sunday, August 14 and Thursday, August 18, with an impressive lineup that includes Josh Pyke, Ngaiire and Martha Marlow on the first night, then Tim Minchin, Hannah Joy from Middle Kids and Ziggy Ramo on the second. Here's how it works: on each evening, the guests come together to form a band, with support from the Supergroup House Band. They'll only play together for that one night, with each high-profile songwriter taking turns to perform songs while their colleagues join in. And it's all spontaneous — with no rehearsals and absolutely zero prior planning. That means that guests get an experience that's never been seen or heard before, and won't ever happen again with the same songwriters and tunes, either. "There is something quite magical about it," says All Our Exes Live in Texas' Mooney. "It is communal and whimsical and musical in the purest sense. I have a feeling this tour will take that to a new level. It's going to feel incredibly poignant to connect again in this way, after the two years we've all had."
