Vivid 2015 will be amassing a buzzing crowd over at the Australian Technological Park with Game On this May. Featuring international and local guests, this festival celebrates two of the most popular things to do when procrastinating: interactive games and online videos. Game On is focused on fans and creators alike, with an expo hall open for gamers to playtest the latest projects from indie developers from around the world, as well as workshops and how-to presentations hosted by local colleges the Academy of Interactive Entertainment, JMC Academy and the Academy of Information Technology. Comedy, ideas and music will be represented by YouTube celebrities including Barack Obama impersonator alphacat, 24-year-old Australian master of disguise mychonny, the singing duo Jayesslee, gaming superchannel Smosh Games, and special FX warriors RackaRacka. If you're feeling inspired from this and want to break out into your own online fame, you'll also find plenty of opportunities to learn the craft of home broadcasting for yourself.
Thundering into town upon the back of his immense triumphs in literature, and now the world of cult television, Lionel Corn is the kind of author who draws focus with the slightest adjustment of his seating position. It's no wonder that academics, writers manqué and pedantic fans alike want to limply dab him to death with inane questions whenever he speaks publicly. Following a successful stint at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival, The Chaser's Andrew Hansen and Chris Taylor bring the portly form of Corn to the Sydney Writers' Festival for one night only. Hansen and Taylor's George RR Martin-like figure is the centre of a show that pokes fun at the rise in 'In Conversation'-type events, many of which you'll find over these next two months as Sydney is deluged with the SWF, Vivid and Sydney Film Festival in quick succession.
Watching a cursor move around a computer screen doesn't sound very exciting, let alone frightening. There's only so much intrigue to be found in basically watching over someone's shoulder as they flick between YouTube, Skype, Facebook, Spotify, Gmail and iMessage — or is there? It depends what they're up to, of course, and in these always-online times, that could be anything. In Unfriended, the MacBook user in question, high schooler Blaire Lily (Shelley Hennig), is doing quite a few things. First, she's watching shocking footage of her friend, Laura Barns, committing suicide exactly a year earlier, as well as the embarrassing video that drove her to her death. Next, she's cyber flirting with her boyfriend, Mitch (Moses Jacob Storm). Then they're both video chatting with pals Adam (Will Peltz), Jess (Renee Olstead), Ken (Jacob Wysocki) and Val (Courtney Halverson). They're not the only ones taking part in the conversation, as they soon realise. Their Skype call also includes an unknown party, but hanging up on the unpleasant troll isn't as easy as it should be. At the same time, Blaire starts receiving strange Facebook messages from Laura, despite her dearly departed status. Mitch suggests that their virtual gatecrasher is Laura's ghost in the machine, a prediction that seems laughable at first, but less so as the interloper's taunts get increasingly violent — and personal. Yes, this is a supernatural revenge film. Yes, it swaps a handheld camera for a computer screen in the next evolution of the found footage genre. Yes, that means that the entirety of Unfriended unfolds on a laptop, as scared teens are taunted by an unseen foe. Director Levan Gabriadze, writer Nelson Greaves and producer Timur Bekmambetov — the helmer of Wanted and Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, as well the most famous name involved with the ultra low-budget production — simply toy with the usual horror narrative in the same way their villain plays with the characters. It's both obvious and ingenious, and it mostly works. Setting the movie within an overlapping cascade of constantly minimised and maximised application windows places the potential victims in an immensely relatable situation — i.e. staring at a computer for hours on end. More than that, it also ramps up the suspense. A couple of bloody set pieces aside, the usual jumps are largely absent, with few scares to be found in pixilated video that keeps the characters' fearful faces on screen as much as possible. However, tension ripples through every typed then deleted message and every mouse move to the wrong place. Blaire and her friends are on the edge of their keyboards, and the audience is inching towards the edge of their seats. Unfriended also offers a critique of online interaction from bullying to shaming, though there's nothing new in its exposé of the awful ways people behave when they think they're anonymous. There's nothing new in the cast's performances as self-absorbed, fighting and terrified teens, either, other than accurately reflecting the right age and behaviour. Innovation doesn't matter here, though; the movie only ever promises a modern update. When it clicks, it clicks. When it doesn't, it's still not enough to make you want to log off.
Sydney's got a brand new music festival on the beach, and we've never seen a more perfect headliner. Legendary harmonisers, surfin' safari-goers and all-round Californian seaside kings The Beach Boys are set to top the bill for Beachfest, a brand new festival coming to Bondi Beach. Hitting Bondi's main beach on Saturday, November 14 at 3pm, Beachfest will see in its first year with the Pet Sounds legends alongside Australian longtimers The Whitlams, Rockhampton's Busby Marou, surf folkster Kim Churchill and Brisbane's Sahara Beck. The Beach Boys have five decades of Grammy-winning back catalogue to bust out, so come ready to settle in. Imagine watching 'Surfer Girl', 'Kokomo' or 'California Girls' on Bondi Beach. Too good. Tickets are pretty affordable, starting at $85 — running from general admission 'On the Green' seats to reserve 'On the Beach' seats on the beach to VIP packages with food and drink suppled by The Bucket List. There's some warm fuzzy do-gooderness involved here too, with $1 from every ticket sold to be donated to Surf Live Saving NSW (the official beneficiary of the event). Aside from the squealworthy headliners — who'll also be doing a full Australian tour — the festival will see markets, surfing and skating exhibitions and Surf Live Saving events, including a march past, beach flag races and board races. Beachfest is happening at Bondi Beach on November 14 from 3pm. Tickets go on sale Friday, June 26 at midday from Ticketek and Beachfest's website. Early bird presale is Friday, June 19 at midday until Sunday, June, 5pm. Go to www.bondibeachfest.com to register.
There’s no nice way to put it: Aloha is a mess. It's not a hot mess, despite its disorganised array of attractive actors and its scenic setting. It's not a fun mess, because it rarely entertains. Instead, it's the worst kind of cinematic clutter: an indulgent mess. Aloha is a movie that hasn't met a cliche it doesn't love — and given that its writer/director, Cameron Crowe, has met many in his past efforts (such as Jerry Maguire, Elizabethtown and We Bought a Zoo), that's saying something. It's also a feature with so little to show or say outside of its rehash of the filmmaker's usual plotline — down-and-out man is refreshed by the attention and affection of a younger woman — that it spends a fair chunk of time referencing its title in dialogue, songs and even on fridge magnets. The film's main tale focuses on former NASA worker turned defence contractor Brian Gilcrest (Bradley Cooper), who returns to the Hawaii base where he once spent the best years of his career. He's tasked with negotiating permission from the locals to move US military operations to another site, which links in with the shady work he's doing for an eccentric billionaire (Bill Murray). While there, he also confronts old issues with his ex-flame (Rachel McAdams), who's struggling with marital problems with her strong, silent-type husband (John Krasinski). Brian's every move is shadowed by an eager fighter pilot, Allison Ng (Emma Stone), assigned as his handler — and of course, soon they're flirting with becoming more than colleagues. As overly sincere as it is sprawling, Aloha exists to trade in Crowe's usual brand of rom-com optimism and self-belief, love conquering all mid-life crises and all that. Sometimes, the filmmaker doing what he does best results in flashes of corny charm, as glimpsed in the banter between Cooper and Stone, and a dance shared by the latter with Murray. Too often, however, he's content with trifles such as featuring a rotating handheld shot around Cooper, Stone and McAdams, or making a joke out of Cooper and Krasinski communicating without words, or shoehorning in a space hacking threat as the movie's climax. This seesawing between too-cute, too-contrived and too-clumsy might have been excusable if the characters immersed in such shoddy plots and shots remotely resembled people, other than physically, that is. Alas, the figures on screen never transcend their status as the idealised imaginings of a dreamer, nor do the corresponding performances. Saying that Stone steals the show is a reflection of her natural pep and flair, not of her ability to repeat the reasoning for her playing someone with partial Hawaiian heritage. Of her co-stars, Cooper is in stock-standard mode and Murray is barely glimpsed, alongside the rest of the high-profile cast, Alec Baldwin and Danny McBride included. Even the one element that typically, reliably stands out in Crowe's films — his use of music, as seen in Say Anything and Almost Famous, for example — doesn't hit the mark. When a movie has to resort to Murray announcing "everybody wants to rule the world" moments before the track is heard, it's hard to get swept away in the emotion of the scene. It's hard to get swept away in Aloha altogether; in fact, you might just want to sweep its mess from your memory.
Back in 1975, photographer Hugh Holland had an inkling a group of teenage skateboarders were going to make it big. It was the group who'd spawn the legendary Dogtown and Z-Boys, and this month, Holland's documentation of them goes on display at Blender Gallery. Locals Only is a newly published book of Holland's photographs, tracing the beginnings of a sport and subculture that changed the face of teenage rebellion. Full of tanned bodies and bleached hair, Holland’s images document the group as they carve up drainage ditches and seize empty suburban swimming pools for skate bowls. Set among the sunny surrounds of southern California, this survey of late ‘70s skateboarding is likely to trigger admiration for both the daring art of skating and the precise art of photography. Don't miss the opening party on Thursday, June 4, sponsored by Pistonhead Lager and Beach Burrito Company.
If you haven't yet sorted that Mudgee weekender that we've been banging on about, here's some relief. The Pyrmont Festival, happening for the fifth year in a row, is bringing you ten days' worth of Mudgee goodness this month. On Saturday May 16 and Sunday May 17, Pirrama Park will host the main event, a two-day extravaganza featuring more than 100 stalls from winemakers, growers and creators. There will also be live music, local art and rides. Between May 14 and 25, you can also pop into some of Pyrmont's best eateries (including Blue Eye Dragon, Cafe Morso, Flying Fish and the new LuMi Bar & Dining) to enjoy lunches, dinners and tastings presented by some of Mudgee's best wineries (including Burrundulla Wines, Robert Stein Vineyard, Lowe Wines and Huntington Estate). With more than 40 wineries now in operation, Mudgee is fast becoming a popular destination for Sydney wine lovers, offering boutique experiences, fancy European grapes and excellent local produce.
A whopping 60 films will make their Australian debut at the 2015 Jewish International Film Festival. Returning to Event Cinemas Bondi Junction in Sydney and Classic Cinemas Elsternwick in Melbourne, this three-week celebration of Jewish films and filmmakers will screen both fiction and non-fiction films from all around the world, in order to showcase what festival director Eddie Tamir calls "the agony and the ecstasy of the Jewish experience". Standout narratives in the JIFF 2015 program include German post-WWII legal thriller Labyrinth of Lies, French-Canadian romantic drama Felix and Meira, Cannes Grand Prix winner Son of Saul and Natalie Portman's directorial debut A Tale of Love and Darkness, about Israeli novelist and journalist Amos Oz. The documentary lineup is similarly strong. Out of Israel, Censored Voices uncovers harrowing recordings made by disillusioned Israeli soldiers shortly after the Six Day War in 1967, while controversial Latvian doco Beyond the Fear tells the story of Yigal Amir, the assassin of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin.
Held at the appropriately underground ALASKA Projects, this discussion will unpick that ambiguous label 'emerging artist'. It seems we’re always on the watch for vibrant young game-changers, but what does this term actually mean? Is it tied to age? Or experience? A solid lineup of speakers will trace the path from art school to art establishment, hopefully shedding a little more clarity. Sharing their thoughts will be Tess Allas, Alexie Glass-Kantor, William Sturrock, Sam Wild, Andrew Frost (MC) and recipient of the 2014 NSW Visual Art Fellowship (Emerging), Ramesh Mario Nithiyendran. This event is one of our top ten picks of Art Month. Check out the other nine here. Image: NSW Visual Arts Fellowship (Emerging) Recipient, Ramesh Marion Nithiyendram, 2014, earthenware, red terracotta, glaze, platinum and gold lustre, raw earth, ceramic tiles, marble, concrete, chains, perspex, cardboard, styrofoam, Installation view, Artspace, Sydney. Photo: San Wimberly.
Naming the sequel to The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel probably didn’t cause any headaches or sleepless nights. There’s no unsightly numeral at the end, but the film’s follow-up status is still made clear, The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel saying everything a movie title needs to say. It's the same older folks getting up to the same old tricks. The film opens in the United States, the perpetually cranky Muriel Donnelly (Maggie Smith) and always-eager Sonny Kapoor (Dev Patel) trying to convince an American company to fund their expansion plans; however, that’s just window dressing. Soon they return to Jaipur, to their home away from home for more mature travellers, and to the recognisable faces of their long-term residents. Everyone’s problems may be new, be it a job offer, romantic entanglements, health ailments, impressing a hotel inspector, fending off rivals or preparing for impending nuptials, but there’s nothing different about the dynamic. Indeed, anyone who has seen the first movie — or anything any of the high-profile ensemble cast have ever been in — already knows exactly how everyone behaves, and how everything plays out. As will-they-or-won’t-they couple Evelyn and Douglas, Judi Dench is wise and cautious, and Bill Nighy is equal parts charming and sweet, their relationship never in doubt. Lust drives Celia Imrie’s Madge and Ronald Pickup’s Norman into their own silly side-character subplots steeped in matters of the heart. When Richard Gere arrives as the visitor assumed to hold the fate of the new hotel in his hands, he’s as suave and dreamy as he’s ever been on film, and there’s a woman nearby to fall under his spell. These soap-like, sitcom-style antics, and Sonny’s in coping with the competing demands of running a growing business and getting married, ensure much of The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel plays out like a subcontinent-set episode of Fawlty Towers. Sadly, missing is the wit and satire that made the TV series such a comedy gem. Instead, the laughs here come from familiarity and predictability, rather than any real comic impulses by returning director John Madden and second-time scribe Ol Parker. Part of what endeared The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel to audiences — old more so than young — was the late-stage coming-of-age story mixed with an elderly-but-not-out attitude. Both came dripping with sentimentality and packaged as a glossy travelogue, but the movie struck a chord more often than not, and not just because of its immensely pleasant performers. That’s exactly what The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel attempts, but the feel-good strengths of the first film just don’t stretch that far. Instead, cheesiness and cliches fill in the gaps, including the obligatory dance sequences, lest viewers forget there’s an Indian wedding thrown in as well.
It’s 1982, Amsterdam, and tough economic times are hitting hard. So what’s a ragtag gang of close-knit friends to do to make a living — especially when they can’t get a bank loan to pursue legitimate business interests? Abducting a beer baron might not be the obvious answer, but it is the course of action Cor Van Hout (Jim Sturgess) and his brother-in-law Willem Holleeder (Sam Worthington) take. They’ll need to rob a bank to finance their ingenious get-rich-quick idea, and they’ll need the help of some pals (fellow Aussies Ryan Kwanten and Thomas Cocquerel, plus Dutch actor Mark van Eeuwen) to put their plan into action. Welcome to Kidnapping Mr Heineken, a snatch-and-grab caper that can only tell a true tale. This isn’t the first time these circumstances have earned the big screen treatment, with 2011’s De Heineken ontvoering from The Netherlands doing the same. The capture of Alfred Heineken for what was the largest ransom ever at the time made headlines in its day; however, that was three decades ago. Now, it’s a footnote in history, and even with several movies reliving the saga, that’s likely the way it will stay. Journalist Peter R. de Vries turned the entire affair into a book in 1987, his investigative attitude coming through in the film adaptation. Kidnapping Mr Heineken maps the planning and the aftermath in standard crime procedural fashion, more concerned with the perpetrators and their fraying friendship — 35 million Dutch guilders is a lot of money to share, after all — than the plight of their victim. Perhaps director Daniel Alfredson, a veteran of The Girl Who Played with Fire and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest, just wanted to showcase his younger stars, all strangely keeping their native accents. Perhaps it’s just because, apart than the initial abduction and the inevitable downfall, not much happens — other than squabbling and sitting around waiting. As is often the case, what Van Hout and Holleeder thought was a sure path to easy money quickly proves otherwise. After capturing Heineken (Anthony Hopkins) and his driver (David Dencik), neither the police nor the beer company plays ball. Cue an average dramatisation of actual events, with the usual backstories and complications. Everyone has issues: Holleeder’s father previously worked for Heineken, his sister (and Van Hout’s wife) is pregnant, one of the group has a family to care for, no one really likes another of their so-called friends. Alfredson is workman-like in bringing it all together, ensuring the movie looks sleek while matching the 1980s period, and even throwing in a few great car chases. His cast does the same, each hitting their marks, though nothing bubbles under the surface of their characters — or the film. It’s a fitting approach for a feature that doesn’t try to be anything more than a faithful, sometimes emotional retelling of real-life circumstances, but it is also unfulfilling. Alas, Kidnapping Mr Heineken is content with just showing us what happened, rather than telling us anything that inspires more than a passing interest.
Spending two days surrounded by sport-crazed fans in Sydney's big gun stadium might not sound like your typical weekend. But if an international carnival of music, booze and killer costumes is your thing, clear February 6 and 7 in your calendar right now. Across two days this February, Allianz Stadium will play host to one of Rugby’s iconic annual events, the HSBC Sevens World Series. Bringing together revellers from 16 nations around the globe, Sydney 7s promises a perfect mix of partying and cracking sporting performances. With visitors flocking in everywhere from Fiji to South Africa, this is set to be an action-packed weekend not to be missed. Best of all, this year’s theme of ‘Go Global’ sees spectators encouraged to dress up and show some colourful international pride. Dust off that long forgotten costume and head along to see some knock out sporting talent hit the pitch. Sydney 7s will take place at Allianz Stadium from February 6 to 7. Single day or weekend ticket passes can purchased from Ticketek. Image: Nick Malouf.
Hankering after a Byron Bay break, but don't have the time or cashola to make the 800km journey? Then how about a casual train trip to St Peters instead? This Friday, September 25, Byron's legendary brewers Stone & Wood will be popping up in Sydney for just one night. From 5pm, they'll be running a mini-festival in St Peters' Precinct 75, just in front of The Society Inc. They're driving all the way down the East Coast in their beloved Land Rover, 'Clyde', for the occasion and will be bringing a whole bunch of beachy, Byron Bay-inspired fun with them. For a start, all of Stone & Wood's beers will be available on tap, for just $5 a pop. And to keep your eyes and ears entertained, there'll be live tunes from Byron Bay-based Kyle Lionhart, Luke Morris and Garrett Kato, as well as a projector screening surf films by Mctavish. You won't go hungry either, with tasty morsels from the Veggie Patch van. And you can also expect a visit from the Sydney Cafe Racers, who are taking part in the Distinguished Gentleman's Ride, a worldwide motorcycle adventure raising money and awareness for prostate cancer.
There's a reason that Mavis! has an exclamation mark in its title. The film doesn't only chronicle the life and music of Mavis Staples, but celebrates everything that has made the rhythm-and-blues/gospel singer and civil rights activist a star. It can't hide its enthusiasm, nor does it try to, but that's okay. While they're watching, audiences probably won't be able to contain their adoration either. Set to an obvious soundtrack of songs such as "I'll Take You There", " Respect Yourself" and "Let's Do It Again", Mavis! is just that kind of biographical documentary: affectionate about a thoroughly deserving figure, and informative about her rich history. The latter informs the former, of course, with every chapter of her past — from her humble beginnings singing in family band The Staple Singers and their rise to the top of the charts, to the intertwining of the group's hits with the civil rights movement and their relationship with Martin Luther King — painting a portrait of an artist who has earned the right to be considered an icon. The movie also benefits from the considerable and eager involvement of Staples herself, aged 75 at the time of filming, who never proves anything less than a candid and engaging interviewee. She starts the documentary showing off her vocal prowess with her friends and colleagues before a gig, then offers a few pearls of wisdom about her longevity — the combination of her voice and views setting the template for the content to come. As she explains, "I'll stop singing when I have nothing left to say — and that ain't going to happen." Her talent is big; her passion is bigger. Both are on display not just in her many chats to camera, but in clips and performance footage — snippets of Martin Scorsese's The Last Waltz among them — spanning the length of her 60-year career. Both also encourage many an entertaining discussion with a parade of famous faces, such as Bob Dylan, Bonnie Raitt, Wilco's Jeff Tweedy, Chuck D and Sharon Jones. Their awe is infectious; indeed, if writer-director Jessica Edwards was searching for a high-profile posse to mirror her own evident fondness for Staples, she definitely found one. Movies that double as exercises in hero worship often outstay their welcome; however, at a brief but busy 80-minutes, such a fate doesn't befall Mavis! The adoring tone doesn't only cater to existing fans either, with the film working equally as well as a primer for newcomers as it does as a refresher for devotees. That's a rare achievement for a documentary love letter, but then again its subject is anything but typical. Among her many career highlights, Staples made two albums with Prince, after all. Inspiring and enlivening an emotionally vibrant doco is just the latest in her long line of achievements.
After a successful six weeks, Eric Koh's King Street pop-up — aptly dubbed Work in Progress @erickoh — has been extended until December 23. So you can continue to feast on the Mr. Wong maestro and former Tim Ho Wan dim sum master's perfect dumplings for a few more weeks yet. The pop-up's menu is promising an array of Koh's signature creations, including scallop and prawn shumai, prawn har gau and steamed mushroom dumplings, duck spring rolls and prawn wonton with wasabi mayo. Plus there'll be a neat beverages list to match, covering cocktails, wines and beers. Stay late on Thursdays and Fridays to kick back to local DJs. Work in Progress @erickoh is a sequel to @patrickfriesen, the Papi Chulo chef's fried chicken and noodles pop-up that drew crowds during the 2015 March into Merivale food and wine festival. Planned for just five weeks, it was so bombarded with hungry hordes that it remained open for six months. Not surprisingly, the same has happened with Koh. Koh has been living in Sydney since 2012, when he moved here to set up Mr. Wong, winner of 'Best New Restaurant of the Year' at the 2014 Good Food Guide Awards, the and the 2014 Australian Gourmet Traveller Restaurant Guide Awards. Once he's done popping up in the CBD, he’ll be heading to Enmore to head the much-anticipated Queen Victoria Hotel's new kitchen (recently bought by Justin Hemmes), alongside Papi Chulo's Christopher Hogarth and Patrick Friesen. Eric Koh's Work in Progress dim sum pop-up will be open Monday to Friday from midday till late, with the kitchen cooking between midday and 3pm for lunch, then for dinner between 5.30pm and 10pm until December 23.
Sometimes, a romantic comedy tries to do something different. Sometimes, it just seems like it does. The film's concept aside, there's little about 5 to 7 that defies convention; however even as it offers up the sweetness and convenience the genre is known for, plus a whole lot of culture clash commentary and comedy thrown in too, it proves an elegant effort to watch. Here, adherence to type doesn’t make for a bad film, just a routine one. 5 to 7 has certain charms, but you have to be willing to go along with quite a few contrived and heavy-handed elements to enjoy them — like being told, repeatedly and through montages, that there's a difference between Americans and the French. Chief among those obvious aspects is protagonist Brian (Anton Yelchin), aka the US-oriented party of the central couple. He's a 24-year-old aspiring writer who has dedicated his youthful years to his dream, preferring words to real-life experiences. If he sounds familiar, that's because he's the kind of earnest fellow many a movie is littered with. And those of his ilk often find their world changed through a chance meeting with a lovely lady, such as as the one that starts Brian's connection with European export Arielle (Bérénice Marlohe). After spotting her on the streets of New York City, Brian and Arielle chat and agree to cross paths again the next week. Their catch-ups then move to the titular hours of 5pm to 7pm, which is when she says she is available. The reason for her limited schedule: she’s married with two kids. While her diplomat husband (Lambert Wilson) is fine with her having an affair — in fact, he's having one as well, with an up-and-coming literary editor (Olivia Thirlby) — confining their extramarital dalliances to that daily period is just the way the French apparently do things. Cue Brian's intertwined infatuation and anguish, playing out over typical rom-com park strolls, hotel room liaisons and long chats about everyone's feelings. His parents (Glenn Close and Frank Langella) share reservations about their arrangement, but are similarly won over by Arielle — which shows just how lightly 5 to 7 skims the surface of its scenario. This isn't a film about challenging traditional ideas about relationships, or even exploring something different; it's simply a standard romance narrative navigating a series of problems, using adultery as a point of difference and wrapping everything up in "but she's French!" sentiments. Somehow, though, the actors and their subtle performances mostly make the movie work. Yelchin isn't helped by the writer-side of his character (with a wannabe author looking for his big break also frequent film fare), yet his awkwardness comes across as genuinely as his rapport with Marlohe. When they're just walking and talking, Woody Allen and Richard Linklater style, they're at their best, even if their dialogue remains a collection of clichés and clunky lines. That first-time feature writer/director Victor Levin likes to largely look on from afar, gives the film a leisurely pace, and knows how to put a graceful image together also helps the handsomely shot offering, which clearly aims to be one of cinema's classic love stories. Of course, 5 to 7 never reaches such heights, but it is a breezy and pleasing-enough attempt beneath the platitudes and predictability.
You've feasted upon endless bags of crustacean at The Norfolk's House of Crabs. Recently, Cleveland Street's seafood palace has been delving into another, more traditional means of all-you-can-eat tomfoolery: yum cha. After a hugely successful feast in May, House of Crabs is throwing another one-day-only oceanic version of yum cha on Sunday, October 4. Expect lobster doughnuts with XO mayo, popcorn bugs with lime and chilli salt, Singapore-style chilli crab, alongside 'The Boil' (South Australian mussels, Little Neck clams, Queensland prawns, Blue Swimmer Crab, Snow Crab and King Crab). If seafood isn't your only yum cha preference, there'll be Korean fried chicken ribs, barbecue duck pies, crispy Chinese chicken, steamed pork buns and spicy sichuan pork and scallop dumplings. To top it all off, there'll be fried mantou ice cream sandwiches. Being a long weekend Sunday, you'll want to grab one of the Norfolk's Bloody Marys or a sweet, sweet Fire Engine and get cracking. Just remember, be assertive, be polite and pace yourself — just look at this lobster doughnut:
The man who described Tony Abbott as “an absolute raving lunatic” is headed to Australia once again. A comedian, film star, TV host, author and wannabe revolutionary, Russell Brand will no doubt deliver his signature mix of politics and profanity when he tours around the country this October. Coming to the Sydney Opera House as part of Just for Laughs, Brand’s new stand-up show is titled Trew World Order after his YouTube series The Trews. It's described as “a rabble-rousing stab at creating, through the power of the crowd, a Trew World Order.” The comedian turned political activist has long been a divisive figure in the British media, seeming to actively seek out controversy wherever he can. He’s also been highly critical of Australia’s immigration policy, and recently threatened to try and “gay marry” Abbott while he was prime minister. Now that would be a hell of a show. Russell Brand also has a sold-out performance at the Sydney Opera House on October 23.
This is a review of the 2012 run of Masterclass at 107 Projects. The show returns to kick off the year at the Old Fitzroy Theatre in 2015. Masterclass, a two-man pantomime by Gareth Davies and Charlie Garber, was first shown as part of the Imperial Panda Festival in 2011. For reasons unknown (popular demand? to stimulate cash flow? conquer boredom?), they're back, this time performing at 107 Projects in Redfern. 107 Projects is a fantastic new space comprised of a theatre, six artist studios, a small vintage stall and exhibition space that is non-for-profit, so all proceeds are poured back into the space. The opening night was packed with a raucous crowd drinking longies in the foyer (it's BYO). We file into the theatre to the sound of a blaring punk pop song that is paused intermittently for a voice to instruct the audience to "not crinkle chip packets too loudly" and to "please refrain from coughing". Garber and Davies walk on stage and proceed to set up a keyboard and berate the lighting guy, ignoring the presence of the audience. Thus begins the masterclass, an acting seminar that draws on the past of the greatest of all actors, Davies, who was quite literally born into the theatre. He now lives in a Dream Forge, where he has the ability to look through a telescope back into the past. He takes us to the time of his birth, when his mother was a chorus member in Les Mis; Davies was cast as a baby and stayed in the production until he was 21. The rest of the play follows his ascension as an actor and the cataclysmic event that caused him to quit. There is a carefully preserved sense of mystery in the play, so I won't give away too much. Let's just say Garber and Davies are intrinsically connected through theatre, a relationship far deeper than anyone else could ever hope to experience. The absurdity, wordplay, and slightly hysterical drama make this play knee-slappingly funny. Never have I heard such a wide variety of startlingly loud, foghorn laughs. It almost had an air of improvisation, as if the two of them were mucking around together one day, kept the joke going for an hour, and presented it on stage the next day. Full of uncontained energy and wit, this show is best after a few drinks on a Friday night — you will leave feeling refreshed and smiling rather than contemplative and slightly depressed. Masterclass can laugh at itself and laugh at you while you're laughing at it, all at the same, disorderly, time.
Spookyland is set to wrap up their December residency at the Lansdowne on Christmas Eve. Over the course of four Wednesday-night concerts, the four-piece has established a reputation for killer live shows. Led by 22-year-old frontman Marcus Gordon, who's joined by his brother Liam on guitar, drummer Nath Mansfield and bassist Nic Malouf, Spookyland play what they call "solipsist rock and roll" — which means either they perform entirely self-centred songs, or they're taking the piss. In a recent interview with Jefferson Laufer of Rock Bands of LA, Marcus Gordon explained, "If there is an element for all the lyrics, it's childhood imagination plagued by adult misanthropic concepts." Laufer sees Spookyland's music as "urban gutter rock". "[Gordon] has channelled the spirit of Lou Reed to become a rock and roll animal of current time," he writes. You can check out his assessment by downloading Spookyland's debut EP, Rock and Roll Weakling.
Sydneysiders will get a taste of old Hollywood glamour and charm when Academy Award-winning silent flick The Artist screens in spectacular style, accompanied by the soaring sounds of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. It's a trip to the picture palace, as imagined by the Sydney Festival 2015. The Artist lights up the Opera House's iconic Concert Hall across two nights. Set during the late 1920s, director Michel Hazanavicius's outstanding piece of contemporary cinema is a clear nod to the film industry at a pivotal point of transformation. If the thought of 100 minutes of silent cinema seems utterly exhausting, fear not. With a stellar cast plus five Oscars under its belt, this love story will leave you gasping and giggling all the way to the very end.
Still buzzing after a whizz-bang national tour promoting latest single 'Medicine', Sydney-based DJ and triple j House Party host KLP (aka Kristy Lee Peters) is set to give back this Christmas with a gig/dance party to raise money for Nordoff Robbins Music Therapy. Every single cent raised will go the charity's way. And even if you're not into the whole pudding-bauble-Santa-hat thing, you can rest assured that there'll be plenty of non-Christmassy content. In fact, KLP has curated a lineup of some of her favourite artists and beatmakers to raise a holiday toast with. Festive pals set to crank out a few sets include Cassian, DCup, Yolanda Be Cool, triple j buds Matt & Alex, Elizabeth Rose, Joyride and Lindsay 'The Doctor' McDougall, to name just a few. There'll also be a special mystery live act, who is yet to be announced. Doors for the KLP Kristmas shindig will open at 8pm, with the tunes, tinsel and lights continuing till late. Tickets are on sale from December 1.
Swapping the Californian coast for the sweltering Aussie summer, The Growlers are heading our way for a string of nationwide shows. Showcasing tracks fresh from their latest record Chinese Fountain, the Cali-based fivesome will be making their way from Melbourne to Maroochydore for fans this January. Blending garage rock rhythms with spaced-out gravely vocals, The Growlers are no strangers to our shores. Selling out four headline shows in March last year, the band will be putting on 14 ripper gigs in cities and regional spots across the east coast. With five studio albums and countless had-to-be-there shows dotted throughout their career, 2015 is set to be another standout year for The Growlers. Renowned for putting on a smashing live set, the band's beachside upbringing guarantees these to be some psychedelic, high-energy performances. A tad theatrical and a whole lot of fun, gear up for a night of 'beach goth' vibes to get your summer going.
When a film bears the name American Sniper – and the memoir it adapts includes The Autobiography of the Most Lethal Sniper in US Military History in its title – certain things are unsurprising. To judge a movie by its moniker and a book by its cover, patriotism is expected, as are ample scenes seen through the crosshairs of a riflescope. Clint Eastwood’s latest feature delivers both. The true tale inspiring jingoistic fervour is that of Chris Kyle (Bradley Cooper), a Texan rodeo cowboy turned Navy SEAL. In four tours of Iraq post-9/11, he was credited with 160 confirmed kills. His fellow soldiers anointed him with the nickname 'Legend', continually proffering their thanks and idolatry. With each deployment, the worries of his wife, Taya (Sienna Miller), grew, as did the distance in their marriage. As the man who played Dirty Harry, Eastwood is no stranger to portrayals of men steeped in violence, or to positioning their deeds as those of necessity. Symbolism torn from many a western and war movie included, he takes to the story with passion and without subtlety. With his protagonist pledging allegiance to “God, country and family”, in that order, he paints Kyle as a hero, and shapes the feature as a tribute. Treading the fine line between condoning certain actions and representing reality is a tricky task, and one Eastwood’s feature does show signs of struggling with. Only slivers are glimpsed of a more complex and conflicted train of thought than the feature’s primary narrative. Shadows of martial discontent flicker over supporting characters, but the enemy is not within, in American Sniper's case, as an insurgent enemy sniper threatens the unit. It's a dramatic tension that's technically well-executed but thematically questionable. Similarly, Kyle’s difficulties on the home front are tinged with the weight his work bears on his conscience, explained as regret over the lives he couldn’t save, rather than any troubles with what he did and saw. And then there's the Iraqi problem. Whenever the viewpoint of the other side threatens to interject, such as with the plight of a local family forced to inform against a villain, empathy is absent. American Sniper presents one perspective only, so the occupied people of Iraq remain strangers. While Eastwood’s Flags of Our Fathers did the same, here there’s no Letters from Iwo Jima to offer balance. Performance-wise, the duty-bound feature isn’t helped by Cooper’s lead turn, even if an Academy Award nomination seems to indicate otherwise. He looks the part, complete with a hulking swagger and an aversion to his usual charm, but his rendering of Kyle is as one-note as the bulk of the storyline. Similarly, Miller plays the stereotypical neglected wife in a paint-by-numbers performance. Of course, countless films – war and otherwise – spin one-sided yarns of good-versus-evil and even do so well; however, American Sniper is never anything less than uneasy. The sand-swept action that clouds the frame, the unwavering conviction and the sentiment of the ending are predictably blatant and sometimes brutal – and so is the accompanying discomfort.
In wrestling – of the competitive rather than staged variety – combatants trade in proximity, physicality and supremacy. They come in close, sizing up each other’s strengths through grabbing and grappling, and then exploiting weaknesses for their own glory. Sudden moves may be made, but little happens quickly. It takes time to push and shove into positions of power, and to feel out avenues for domination. Telling a tale of violence and sought-after victory that can only be ripped from reality, Foxcatcher mimics the sport at its centre, progressing slowly yet never relenting from its atmosphere of tension. Three men jostle for the spotlight: the Olympic Gold medal-winning Schultz brothers Mark (Channing Tatum) and Dave (Mark Ruffalo), and wealthy and eccentric wrestling aficionado John E. du Pont (Steve Carell). Though both siblings shared success at the Los Angeles games in 1984, the awkward, lonely Mark remains in the shadow of charismatic family man Dave, their training sessions the highlights of his daily routine. Du Pont’s unexpected offer to finance his – and the American wrestling team’s – repeat shot at the top spot is the opportunity Mark has been waiting for, but his second chance serves his benefactor’s ego, not his own dreams. As Dave asks when Mark tries to convince him to come along at du Pont’s urging, “What does he get out of all this?” The outcome is the stuff crime reenactments are made of; however, 2014 Cannes Film Festival best director recipient Bennett Miller heightens the simmering anxiety of clashing personalities and motivations over the sensationalist result. Those familiar with the filmmaker’s previous two efforts, fellow true crime feature Capote and the baseball-oriented Moneyball, will be well versed in his approach. Once more, Miller’s film is studied and sparse on the surface but explosive underneath; inspired by history but unafraid to shape events to fit its own statement on masculinity, capitalism and America; and coloured by the purposefully unsettling shades of a chilly, blue visual look. Patient pacing — particularly in long shots framing each of the trio against the surroundings of busy training room, claustrophobic apartment and expansive country estate — allows the pressure to build, though what really blossoms is the Foxcatcher’s troika of obsession and aggression-laced character studies. Details are drip-fed horror-style, not only in the script’s unraveling of psychological unease, but in the intensity of the performances. With Oscar nominations apiece, Carell and Ruffalo command attention, albeit in vastly different ways. The affectations of the former, perfecting the control of the privileged yet paranoid, clash with the naturalistic caution of the ever-agreeable latter. It is Tatum, however, who steals every scene, lumbering, vulnerable, and always with the air of the loser even when Schultz is winning. His character might be an innocent initially easily manipulated, but his layered, internalised portrayal ascends to the apex of the against-type cast. Perhaps it is fitting that he has been eclipsed in the awards chatter — overlooked once again as life imitates art depicting real-life circumstances.
Everybody loves a good procedural. Meticulously charting the steps of an investigation can be as immersive as it is thrilling; there's a reason that serial killer flicks and cop shows prefer the approach, after all. Truth applies the style to a tale of media troubles, tracking a group of US journalists trying to cover a story of national significance. Unfortunately, while the film sticks to the formula of chasing leads and piecing together a puzzle, it does so in a standard and heavy-handed fashion. It's a disappointing outcome, and surprising for two reasons. The first is that the real-life circumstances that inform the feature — the incident that ended the careers of seasoned news producer Mary Mapes (Cate Blanchett) and veteran news anchor Dan Rather (Robert Redford) — are both complicated and compelling. The second is that although filmmaker James Vanderbilt is sitting in the director's chair for the first time, he previously wrote the script for David Fincher's Zodiac, one of the best procedural efforts ever made. With Truth, he offers an account of a controversial report about then-President George W. Bush's military record, which aired on American TV's 60 Minutes in 2004. Mapes, Rather and their team (played by the likes of Topher Grace, Dennis Quaid and Elisabeth Moss) burrowed into rumours and leaked memos surrounding the President's service with the Texas Air National Guard in the 1970s and the preferential treatment he might have received, only to be subjected to accusations of factual inaccuracy and political bias in the aftermath of the broadcast. Much of the enjoyment of procedurals stems from the journey on which they take the audience, letting us watch as details are discovered and dots are joined together. Alas, in adapting Mapes' memoir Truth and Duty: The Press, the President and the Privilege of Power, Vanderbilt renders Truth an exercise in telling rather than showing. Everything of importance is spelled out multiple times, and speeches about the downfall of the media are given more weight and emphasis than the minutiae of the investigation. The underlying situation remains fascinating, as does the statement the film makes, but the former too often feels like a tool for the latter. Thank goodness for Blanchett, who channels both the vulnerability of her Oscar-winning portrayal in Blue Jasmine and the steeliness of her performance in Elizabeth. The crusading film she's in might largely go through the motions, but the same could never be said for her. Redford, too, is expectedly strong, playing Rather with weariness and wisdom. Sadly, the rest of the cast is relegated to sidekick roles and bit parts, a symptom of Vanderbilt's blunt focus. That said, Noni Hazlehurst stands out among a bunch of local talent that also includes Rachael Blake, Andrew McFarlane, Steve Bastoni, Martin Sacks and Nicholas Hope. Turns out the movie was actually shot in Sydney: the biggest surprise in a movie that lacks them otherwise.
No longer do we have to imagine things like rainbow-coloured horses running through our streets — instead, American artist Nick Cave is making this vision a reality with HEARD·SYD. Set to live music and percussion, HEARD·SYD will be a welcome disruption to the daily activity of the mundane commute with an exuberant and surreal explosion of equestrian activity. 30 colourful soundsuits fuelled by 60 dancers and musicians, will bring Sydney's streets to life, highlighting the beauty and joy of nature reimagined in contemporary art as part of the Carriageworks and City of Sydney's Art & About programs. The suits themselves are constructed from coloured raffia, and other found materials, to produce a distinctive sound when activated, building to a riotous, ritualistic rumpus. The work has taken over spaces in Dallas and Detroit as well as NYC's Grand Central Station, and its Sydney iteration will be performed across a public space in the CBD and at Carriageworks over two days in November 2016. HEARD·SYD encourages an almost pastoral dream-like state and offers an escapist response to the bustle of the city, its architecture, parks and urban spaces. It's a dynamic performance that must be seen — and heard.
Want to experience a slice of Jamaica in Sydney? Either way, there's a rum-fuelled adventure happening in Sydney over November and December you should lock into your diary. Fine purveyors and makers of rum for over 265 years, Appleton Estate have launched The Appleton Trail in Sydney, three weekends of rum-tasting, storytelling and celebration of Jamaica's long-loved spirit. After Paddington's Village Inn and Kings Cross's Sweethearts Rooftop Barbecue, the final stop of The Appleton Trail will be at Taylor’s Rooftop, located above the Republic Hotel in CBD. Like the other stops on the Trail, expect a Jamaican-themed pop-up hideaway with reggae tunes, specially-created rum cocktails, paired with Jamaican food, and hosted by a Jamaican dancer — all to make you feel like you’re finally on that well-deserved island holiday. You'll be able to try the Appleton Estate Signature Blend – the original Appleton Estate rum — alongside the Reserve Blend, Rare Blend 12 Year Old, 21 Year Old Jamaica Rum and 50 Year Old Jamaica Rum – the world’s oldest barrel-aged rum. Plus, Appleton have taken it upon themselves to create four signature cocktails for the event. If you’re looking for something to take a the sting out of a little too much sun, try the From Jamaica With Love, comprised of Appleton Estate Signature Blend, passionfruit, fresh citrus and pineapple. If you love a good Dark 'n' Stormy, try the Appleton rendition, the Jamaican Stormy (Appleton Estate Signature Blend, fresh lime and ginger beer). As well as the cocktails, Taylor’s will also have some additions to their menu just for the occasion — think jerk chicken pineapple salsa and jerk prawns for those looking for a jerk-fuelled feast. What better way to celebrate the first weekend of summer with a rum cocktail, jerk chicken and Jamaican beats as the sun sets over Sydney's CBD?
In By the Sea, a couple retreats to a scenic ocean-side spot, their motivation as apparent as their baggage. Roland (Brad Pitt) is a writer struggling to put pen to paper, while Vanessa (Angelina Jolie Pitt) is a former dancer bearing emotional wounds from a past tragedy. Their individual troubles feed into a larger, common issue: the inertia in their marriage. The couple continue to look the part, but they're just going through the motions. He wears partially unbuttoned shirts, wanders around with a drink constantly in his hand, and spends more time with a local barkeep (Niels Arestrup) than with his wife. She smokes behind oversized sunglasses, stretches out on their balcony, and speaks as little as possible. They're not confronting their woes — they're avoiding them. Stepping behind the lens for her third stint as a director, Jolie Pitt explores the struggling state of a stale relationship in a script of her own making — and that she's taking on a starring role, alongside her actual husband, is by no means insignificant. Just don't expect an insight into the personal lives of one of the most famous couples on the planet. Instead, Jolie Pitt toys with the concept of being watched – something the real-life duo is no doubt familiar with, both on-screen and off. Vanessa finds a peephole into an adjacent room, discovers that she enjoys peering into the lusty bliss of a honeymooning couple (Melvil Poupaud and Mélanie Laurent), and eventually shares the experience with Roland. They gaze at the private moments of others, the audience observes them in turn, and more is seen than said. By the Sea convincingly conveys the unspoken elements of voyeurism; the forbidden becomes thrilling, whether spying on a neighbour or reading accounts of celebrity relationships. The film also shows how becoming invested in the life of someone else from afar can both mask and amplify the problems of those doing the looking, such as unhappiness and alienation. Indeed, while this may be the first time the couple have shared the screen since 2005's Mr. and Mrs. Smith, it's not just a case of lovers jetting off to a picturesque setting and sulking around a nice hotel. Jolie Pitt's feature is astute and incisive in its examination of the ebbs and flows of long-term bonds, and owes a debt to big screen melodrama and minimalism. The ghosts of great '70s European cinema – of character-based theatrics allowed to unfold slowly, and of pain rippling beyond composed faces and lavish surroundings – can be felt in every frame. Director of photography Christian Berger, a veteran of Michael Haneke's films such as Cache and The White Ribbon, certainly assists in evoking a throwback vibe and a sense of closeness. Nevertheless, it's the two leads who remain the true stars of the show. They weather some trying dialogue as well as an unsatisfying late revelation, and help the movie's repetition and tension become rhythmic and immersive. Their performances are also the reason that, even when the feature doesn't quite come together, it still remains hard to forget. In presenting a tale of intimacy and scrutiny, they're a pair no one can tear their eyes away from.
Fancy a boogie, but not the overpriced cover charge? Not to worry, we’ve found a way to make your wistful dreams a damn fine reality. VICE’s electro music and culture channel THUMP is answering the call, throwing yet another set of dance parties in both Melbourne and Sydney over the next two weeks. The best part: it's all free. The THUMP crew knows how to put on a mighty fine show, and these nights are bound to be no exception. Melburnians will enjoy the likes of Sleep D, Strict Face and DJ sets from Null and Simona, while Sydneysiders can expect Cliques, Strict Face, Thomas William and Unit to move you long into the night. Image: Voena.
If you've been lamenting Kings Cross's uncertain future, here's your ticket to leaving your worries behind — for one night, at least. Elizabeth Bay House presents Mayhem, a party that will take you back to 1945, when the Second World War came to an end and the streets went completely crazy. Sydney Swing Katz's James Star will be on-hand, teaching you how to jitterbug, while a mad catwalk will remind you of which fashions dominated the 1940s. Speaking of which, turn up in your own, glammed-up '40s outfit, and you'll be in the running to win the best-dressed comp. (Even if you don't triumph, you can Instagram yourself to bits in the photo booth). Meanwhile, downstairs, the house's underground cellars will transform into an 'illegal' gambling den. Bring whatever you have and see if you can trade it for something better on the black market — though do be wary of deals that might not turn out to be as fabulous as they seem. Ever wandered how Sydneysiders felt when Japan launched its submarine attacks? Listen to a retelling of how it looked from Elizabeth Bay House's upstairs morning room. And hear about how the war felt on the frontline, with live letter readings by The Jetpack Collective. Your ticket includes supper and a welcome drink to get you well on your time warp, and covers all entertainment on the night.
The plight of India's poverty-stricken conveyed through a quest for pizza? Yes, you read that correctly. Tamil language film The Crow's Egg endeavours to journey through the harsh lives of two young brothers by sending them in search of a slice of a fast food staple, and aims to present a combination of social realism and upbeat fable. If it sounds like an awkward combination, that's because it is. It's also clumsy in packaging weighty considerations within kid-focused shenanigans, unconvincing when it attempts to work farcical aspects into the mix, and falls on the wrong side of all things cute and enthusiastic as a result. The statements director M. Manikandan tries to make about the vast chasms between the haves and the have-nots, corporations and individuals, and the western and developing worlds are certainly sound, but they're hardly helped by his preference for slightness and sweetness over subtlety. What The Crow's Egg does have, however, is ample amounts of spirit – which is to be expected when a movie charts a couple of pint-sized characters on a mission. Here, the children in question are known only as Big Crow's Egg and Little Crow's Egg (Ramesh and J. Vignesh). The reason for their untraditional names is simple: that’s what the Chennai slum-dwelling siblings usually eat. As their main source of food illustrates more than their attitudes, life is tough for the twosome. Their mother (Iyshwarya Rajesh) works in a factory to amass enough money for their imprisoned father's legal fees, leaving the pair to spend their days scouring for fallen coal along the railway tracks that they can then swap for a handful of rupees. They dream of better things, including the meals served by the new eatery in their neighbourhood. Italian cuisine seems as exotic as it does appetising, and they desperately want a taste. Following their efforts and spending time with their cheeky personalities is endearing enough, as are the many musical montages, even if they're peppered throughout quite loudly and repetitively. Alas, the seesawing into darker territory is much less convincing. Of course, the overall disjointedness the movie suffers from could be said to mimic the excited minds of protagonists as they cycle through one adventure after another; however that might be a case of being too kind to a film that's clearly well-meaning, but just as clearly a bit too messy in bringing its intentions to fruition. Besides, the engaging duo of child actors at the centre of The Crow's Egg achieve that sense of exuberance all by themselves – which is why they're the feature's strongest element. Well that, and the relatable yearning for a piece of pizza.
If you love, distribute, market, produce or work with beats, your Christmas has come weeks early. Since 2012, Sydney's drop-driven answer to New York City's CMJ, the annual Electronic Music Conference (EMC), has been Asia-Pacific's premier dance music industry event. Speakers, delegates, artists, producers, DJs and industry leaders get together for a big ol' bender — of panels, talks, masterclasses, round table discussions and showcases of the latest in dance and electronic music. Held at Carriageworks in the past, the conference is moving to heart of the beats action this year: Kings Cross and Darlinghurst. Three key venues play host to EMC the Eternity Playhouse Theatre, Upstairs at The Beresford and The Standard Hotel on Wednesday December 3 and Thursday December 4. But cahmaaaahn, this is a dance music conference — where the party at? The live (less industry-focused, more party, party, party) part of EMC, EMC Play, will take over Kings Cross venues on Wednesday and Thursday night with showcases from Australia's leading electronic labels and party-starting collectives. The showcase venues this year include Soho Bar, X54 Studios and the Kings Cross Hotel. The lineup is pretty damn huge, including Peking Duk, Motez, Will Sparks, Cassian, Fishing, Touch Sensitive, Basenji, SAFIA, Wave Racer, Yolanda Be Cool, Cassian, KLP, Ivan Gough, Wordlife, Cosmo's Midnight, Rainbow Chan, Simon Caldwell, Tigerlilly, Slice N Dice, Kilter, Sable, Gold Fields, L D R U, Yahtzel and more. Check out the EMC Play site for the showcase lineups. If you're really focused on getting that industry knowledge and rubbing shoulders with the main movers and shakers, shell out for an EMC delegate pass for $449 ($229 for students) — this includes free access to all of EMC Play. But if you're just up for the parties, you can buy tickets to EMC Play for $49 +BF.
If your semi-accidental clashing prints weren't enough to attract an invite to Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week earlier in the year, or if you missed Vogue's Fashion Night Out, fear not! Fashion's most mollycoddled month isn't over yet. Mercedes-Benz Fashion Festival is your chance to surround yourself with some of the styles and designs that will be in every fashion retailer's front window this Spring/Summer season. Experience a fashion week vibe with over ten ticketed shows across four days exhibiting the best Australian designers and slickest runway collections. The daily Mercedes-Benz Presents Australian Style showcase highlights a never-ending list of local designers, including Alex Perry, Alice McCall, Bec & Bridge, Camilla, Ginger & Smart and Romance Was Born, to name a few. If you're fashion-inclined, there's a front row seat somewhere with your name on it. For all the glitzy eveningwear you can goggle at, there's Red Carpet Runway, and if you want to show your respects to the original innovators of style, Lavazza Presents From Italy with Passion, a school in style. The closing event courtesy of Australian Fashion Labels will give style-savvy individuals the opportunity to take a sneak peek at the annual collections for their five popular labels: Cameo, Finders Keepers, Keepsake, Jagger and The Fifth.
The unrelenting spirit of subversiveness filters through We Are the Best! as limits are pushed, energy is exuded and emotional wounds are exposed. Three teen girls in Stockholm circa 1980 traverse the troubles of their young years, finding solace in a sound deemed uncool by their peers. When everyone else is embracing the new wave, Bobo (Mira Barkhammar) and her best friend Klara (Mira Grosin) only have ears for punk. Swiftly, they enlist the shy Hedvig (Liv LeMoyne) in their cause. In an astute and involving rendering of the female coming-of-age experience, Lukas Moodysson's latest film understands the unease of being an outsider at such a formative age, as well the comfort that comes from escaping into an all-consuming but unpopular passion. The writer/director's effort radiates the same distinctive combination of awkwardness and relief as it crafts a joyous ode to accepting difference whilst navigating the difficulties of adolescence. A can-do attitude and a thumping soundtrack complete the charmingly determined package. Adapting the graphic novel Never Goodnight, a semi-autobiographical effort by Lukas' wife Coco Moodysson, We Are the Best! accordingly charts the awakening that eventuates when Bobo, Klara and Hedvig endeavour to start their own band, much to the dismay of all around them. They chant "hate the sport" in response to disagreements over rehearsal space, they swoon over local boys who share the same interests, and they cycle through the standard rites of passage of their life stage, from drinking to dating to going wherever the moment takes them. Helming his first feature since 2009's English-language outing Mammoth, Moodysson recaptures the verve and perceptiveness that helped him make his name with previous films Show Me Love, Together and Lilya 4-ever, as well as the same empathy for his characters. We Are the Best! is no teen fantasy nor a youth morality play, with the trials and tribulations of growing up devoid of sugarcoating or messaging. His proto-feminist protagonists are plagued by problems and imperfections, but their failings are facts rather than issues to be remedied as they persevere through his jumpy, enthusiastic frames. Excellent casting caps off the earnest journey through turbulent times that We Are the Best! becomes, with performances ripped from reality. That the central trio hails from the same age group amplifies the authenticity that already teems through the film courtesy of its source material, but Barkhammar, Grosin and LeMoyne add their own spin in delicate evocations of both excitement and uncertainty. Theirs are portrayals both genuine and relatable, evoking the complexity of youthful friendship that echoes beyond the screen. These girls just want to have fun as they eke out their senses of selves, an aim and an outcome that the film gleefully copies. https://youtube.com/watch?v=Xtd5A9hnjaU
In 2003, Aaron Eckhart starred in a film called Paycheck. That's not even a joke, it actually happened. It's pretty much the acting equivalent of ending a relationship and then sleeping with someone whose name is literally 'Rebound'. But then came Thank You for Smoking, followed by Batman Begins. All of a sudden, Eckhart was credible. He was bankable. He was Harvey Dent — the very best of us. Symbolically, if he were to fail, what hope was there for anyone else? Well, having just seen I, Frankenstein, the answer is apparently 'none'. So give up now. The Joker won. It's hopeless. It's...it's all just so hopeless. Here's the story. We pick up the action where Mary Shelley saw fit to end it: with Frankenstein dead and his monster wandering the countryside lonely and without purpose. Then some demons try to capture him, whereupon some gargoyles come to life and save him. As it turns out, that little back and forth was just round #45,678,001,235 in one of those 'secret wars that's been fought for millennia without man's knowledge yet could very well decide the fate of all mankind' kind of things. And now Frankenstein's monster is caught right in the middle of it: still lonely, still angry and almost certainly itchy from all those stitches. And that's the story. Good versus evil. Statue versus demon. Miranda Otto versus Bill Nighy. At one point, Otto has to deliver the line "I am Queen of the Gargoyle League", immediately capturing the 'je ne sais quoi' of paycheck movies and prompting memories of a theme-park-river-stoned Lisa Simpson. As Frankenstein's monster, Eckhart looks suitably buff and menacing, though his performance is so drab and monotone it robs the film of any semblance of fun. Nighy, at least, remains a delight to watch as the Satan-esque villain Naberius, whilst Aussie actor Jai Courtney phones in a 'hey, check out my guns' performance as Otto's bodyguard Gideon. The action is the only thing that keeps I, Frankenstein rolling along with any pace, but even that's just one CGI light show after another, and none aside from the first are of any real note. Ultimately, this is an animated corpse of a film about a reanimated one, so either save your money or buy a turkey, sew a vibrator inside of it and watch that roll around for 90 minutes instead. https://youtube.com/watch?v=pxOSPfUw3qw
Established almost three decades ago, world-renowned Australian new music ensemble Elision are coming to Carriageworks in March for two rare shows. Regularly delivering compositions both authoritative and virtuosic, the experimental ensemble of 20 has become a leading force in contemporary music. They focus on groundbreaking works from contemporary composers who take 'classical' music way beyond what's classic. On Tuesday, March 18, hear works from the likes of Liza Lim, Timothy McCormack, Aaron Cassidy and Richard Barrett, conducted by Carl Rosman. Then back it up the following night, with music by Dmitri Kourliandski, Ann Cleare and Luke Paulding. With three world premiere works on the bill, Elision will prove exactly why they have established themselves as not only Australia's but some of the world's finest. Image: Mario Popham.
The original 300 was a divisive film; a pantomime of hyper violence and fascist doctrine with as much historical accuracy as a university freshman piecing together his O-Week. Still, it was also wildly entertaining and, visually, one of the first to follow in the wake of the Sin City graphic novel framing and design mould. Fast forward seven years and we're presented with the somewhat unexpected sequel; unexpected because 99.3 percent of all characters in the first film were killed off, and not in any sort of ambiguous 'daytime soap, did he really drown?' kind of way. It was more beheadings, dissections and Spartans skewered on spears like 6'2 devils on horseback. Instead, Israeli director Noam Murro's sequel is, much like The Bourne Legacy, a concurrent tale with the focus on the Athenian response to the same Persian threat that felled the infamous 300. Leading the Greek defence is Themistocles (played by Aussie actor Sullivan Stapleton), a war hero and politician whose actions during the Battle of Marathon both earned him fame and set in motion the eventual Persian invasion by the demigod Xerxes and his naval commander, Artemisia (Eva Green). Green is the standout in 300: Rise of an Empire. Adorned in a series of full-length gothic gowns-come-battle armour, her fearsome stare and contemptuous smirk command the focus in every scene she inhabits, to say nothing of that sumptuous Franco-British accent that makes a word like 'sword' an aural blanket in which to wrap yourself. With a backstory so bleak you scarcely judge her for tearing off a man's head and then kissing him, Green's Artemisia out-menaces Xerxes entirely, rendering the gold-painted God a mere passenger sporting an (at best) conservative Mardi Gras outfit. Stylistically, the film faithfully adheres to Zack Snyder's original monochromatic approach, and employs so much slow-motion that without it, 300: Rise of an Empire would just be a four-and-a-half minute ab workout video. Every flesh-tearing strike is luxuriated in with three-dimensional, Dolby-enhanced ecstasy, an orgiastic fountain of blood sprayed across the battleground as though each combatant were a warrior Pro Hart festooning his rug. The action's so video-gamey at times, you feel yourself ghost-thumbing 'Up Up Down Up Y' just to help the hero navigate the chaos, and yet the whole affair remains an entrancing visual style that should more than satisfy the fans of the original. https://youtube.com/watch?v=2zqy21Z29ps
Daniel Boyd is a re-maker of Australian history. Through artistic methods of satire and appropriation, he deconstructs narratives of British imperialism and confronts the dark undercurrents that whitewash our sense of national identity and culture. Drawing upon 18th and 19th century paintings, he subtly inverts heroic depictions of colonial conquest into portraits of invasion, rampant with buccaneers and profiteers. In a slight change of pace, Boyd’s current exhibition, Pineapples in the Pacific, revolves around Pentecost Island in the South Pacific, the birthplace of his paternal great great grandfather. Based on photographs taken during a series of Anglican Melansian missions in 1906, Boyd approaches these images with contemporary candour and an eye for satire, amplifying their residual flavours of exoticism and ‘otherness’. As well as stitching and unstitching the flexible fabric of history, Boyd also reworks the traditional aesthetic of Aboriginal dot painting, merging together abstraction and figuration. His series of untitled paintings are veiled by glossy, translucent dots of archival glue. These dots, whilst adding brilliant textural complexity, are allowed to converge like raindrops. They appear to function as miniature lenses that distort and magnify the content. This masking and manipulation of perspective means you have to dig deep to discern the details. Like subjective histories, Boyd is perhaps emphasising subjective modes of seeing. Upon entering the gallery space, a picturesque coastal landscape looms large. Coloured with luminous blues and greens, it teems with tropical allure. Whilst the work is a postcard perfect capturing of foreign beauty, with the elevated viewpoint and the historical context, there is a creeping sense that we are seeing through the possessive lust of the coloniser. Interesting also is Boyd’s curiously isolated pineapple. It is as if he is harnessing this well-worn icon of lush utopia and using it as an ironic statement, implying that it masks a set of derogatory racial and cultural assumptions. Boyd’s re-worked portraits are more obviously rooted in archival photography. In his shadowy representations of indigenous figures, an elder man is dressed in ceremonial garb and weaponry, whilst in another work, there is a faint echo of Gauguin’s Tahitian muse, summoning up the notion of ‘exotic beauty’. You get the feeling that the original photography was guided by the antiquated stock character of ‘the noble savage’; however, Boyd’s elusive and monochromatic reproduction of them suggests that this romantic notion is a blurry memory — that there is something intangible and out of reach about this identity. The locale may be different, but Boyd's magnified and reworked reproductions continue to be subtle provocations of Western colonialism and their shifting approaches to 'otherness'. It's one case where a pineapple is most definitely not just a pineapple.
Feel like experiencing live performance on your own terms? Day for Night is a durational work boasting a killer lineup of Australia's most intrepid queer artists and put on by Performance Space. Then, at sunset on February 15, Day for Night will transform into an electrifying dance party. Set against a score produced by leading electronic musicians Stereogamous (Paul Mac and Jonny Seymour), audiences will experience each work in an inspired new context. Part performance, part exhibition, part dance partay, Day for Night is a fusion of dance, sweat and sound, and one of the key cultural events of this years Mardi Gras Festival. Want more Mardi Gras events? Check out our top ten picks of the festival.
Clare Bowditch is a pretty busy lady. She writes killer songs, acts in Offspring (haters be quiet, that show is incredible), runs Big Hearted Business (a company aiming to help creatives make money and vice versa), has two kids and boasts a knack for making you feel like you're the only person in the room when she performs. This is rather good news for you, because she's coming to The Factory. Bowditch is lacing up the tour boots this July for her Winter Secrets Tour, the perfect lure to get out and about in the middle of winter. We probably should have mentioned she has eight successful albums and a 15 year music career to pack on the tour. Why should you go? Because Bowditch describes the shows as an 'Interactive Co-Creative Transformative Absurd Joyful Experiences between Audience and Performer'. How can you say no to that? Ex-Magic Dirt frontwoman turned solo artist, Adalita, will be the opening act in each state with tunes from her latest album All Day Venus. She'll also be joining Bowditch onstage for a joint performance. Bowditch is continuing her Winter Secrets tour tradition. One local musician in each state is getting the chance to join Bowditch on stage to perform one of her songs and be in the running to win $1000. Hello music career. This year, the song to nail will be 'I Thought You Were God'. Winners will be announced closer to each date. https://youtube.com/watch?v=aqppMH8_uYQ
If regular documentaries are boring you, banish the yawns and have a peek at what Jon Rose has been up to lately. Ghan Tracks is the master new-music maker's latest documentary that is part radio play, part installation and part musical performance — plenty to keep your eyes and ears focused. Inspired by the famous train line that stretches from Adelaide to Darwin, Rose (30 Ways with Time and Space) includes original film footage of the Afghan Express and dwells on ideas of progress within an Australian perspective. With help from Sydney's Ensemble Offspring and Melbourne's Speak Percussion, Ghan Tracks combines video projections, live instrumentation and experimental sounds that will see some everyday objects take a musical change of vocation. Ghan Tracks nestles in comfortably as part of Performance Space's Score season, a five-week festival bursting at the seams with sound, dance, music and live art. https://youtube.com/watch?v=jrsX12HXAT0
Alright everyone, look busy; Sheezus is coming. Headlining Splendour in the Grass at the end of this month, Lily Allen will be performing just two sideshows during her stay — one in Sydney and one in Melbourne. Allen is known for putting on a furiously fun-filled live set, often featuring some pretty colourful costumes – and plenty of banter. Most recently the 29-year-old stepped in for Two Door Cinema Club at Latitude Festival, and even when put on the spot didn't disappoint. Allen's third album Sheezus was released earlier this year and while it was met with mixed reviews, it has certainly had chins wagging. Most notably the first single 'Hard Out Here' with that video clip assured fans that Allen would be as outspoken and tongue in cheek as ever. Having said that, Allen is also incredibly capable of displaying a pretty candid side in her music — it's that contrast between vulnerability and volatility that makes her such an intriguing artist. If it's straight-up entertainment and bragging rights you're after, don't miss this. https://youtube.com/watch?v=lDlofPAOZy0
You don't need to be Fred Astaire to get into the dance thing. It’s not about getting it right and it’s not about achieving maximum danciness. It’s just about having fun. No Lights, No Lycra offers you the chance to let loose with a wild night of the dancing, and zero chance of having to wonder how you look while you shake out said movement. No Lights, No Lycra is a light-free dance class started in Melbourne and already a hit around the world before spawning its NSW incarnation. The peripatetic event returns to Redfern(ish), setting up the Giant Dwarf on Cleveland Street. Dance novice, dance master or even dance averse — with the lights down, everyone gets to thrash along here as a dance equal.
Being 16 isn't fun by any stretch of the imagination. Your body behaves strangely, self-aware awkwardness hijacks your natural state and the 'rents are seemingly bent on making your life a living hell. Meet Connor: an angry, defensive 16-year-old boy who doesn't know what to do with his newly found, volatile wrath. Award-winning playwright Finegan Kruckemeyer and Siren Theatre's artistic director Kate Gaul (Penelope, The Lunch Hour) join forces in The Violent Outburst That Drew Me To You to tell the story of Connor and many other adolescents in a fresh and creative way. When Connor (Michael Cutrupi) starts becoming a bit of a handful, his parents do what anyone else would — they send him off to live with Uncle Mal in the middle of nowhere. Using shadow puppetry, dance and music to colour Connor's journey, The Violent Outburst That Drew Me To You is a production targeted at audiences of all ages and, thankfully, aims to leave the cringe-worthy Misunderstood Teenager character tropes at the door.
Letting the likes of Little May, Aldous Harding and Boy and Bear take the backyard folk reins for a while, Australia's ARIA-dominating folksters Angus and Julia Stone are heading back to the stage to take back the wooden throne. Four years after their huge runaway hit 'Big Jet Plane' and their Everyone Should Just Stay at Home ARIA-blitzer Down the Way, the Sydney Stone siblings have announced a colossal Australian tour to mark their triumphant return. Teaming up with pop production legend Rick Rubin (Jay Z, Johnny Cash, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Adele), the duo have recorded their third studio album at Malibu's Shangri La studios. The pair's self-titled effort is set for release on August 1, timed perfectly for triple j Hottest 100 dominance. Having spent the last couple of years touring internationally and dropping solo material here and there, it seems high time for the Stones to head home for some epic shows — stopping by the Sydney Opera House's Concert Hall on September 14 and 15. For their first national tour since 2011, Angus and Julia Stone will be joined by 18-year-old Brisbanite Tim Bettinson, aka super-internet-hyped falsetto wonder Vancouver Sleep Clinic. Fusing synthetic instrumentation with vocals sure to generate All the Feels, VSC will hop on tour with the Stones for all national shows except Canberra. https://youtube.com/watch?v=WTsinsfY6dk
There is a white ute parked just inside Artspace. Branching off it are fluorescent light tubes and multiple video screens. The uppermost screen features a vagina outlined by shimmering black-and-white patterns. Another screen pops out of a deep freeze, revealing a nude man delicately combing a section of tinsel. He appears to be in the act of assembling the expansive exhibition that fills the entire Woolloomooloo gallery. The Curtain Breathed Deeply is Justene Williams’ most ambitious venture to date. It is an elaborate ecosystem bursting with found objects and messy edges. Flanking the ute-and-genitals centrepiece, there are two tarpaulin curtains embellished with all kinds of materials. There’s some duct tape crosshatching, crinkly gold wrapping paper and plastic discs that look like road reflectors. Behind these mixed media murals are a series of video installations. Put simply, there's a large red room, a blue room and a few other nooks tucked in and around. Williams’ practice is influenced by a range of modernist masters, particularly those heralding the big, bold and bright. For instance, the video installations in the red room are full of chaotic geometry, calling to mind the Cubist styles of Picasso and Leger. As the performers move against the colourful latticework backdrop, isolated sections of the action are magnified. There's a pre- and post-production grid that becomes tangled and confused. Underneath all this optical intensity, the graceful movements of Williams’ male performers are quite mesmerising. As they are artificially sped up and slowed down, there is a conglomeration of different cultural dance styles. The fact that their costumes are tasselled with gold elephants and their hands and feet are stained red suggests a fascination with India; however, there is also a hint of homoeroticism. As the performers sparkle with sweat and glitter, there’s a fair share of camp dancing and bra-wearing. On the blue side of the gallery, there’s a bit of shamanistic suburbia in the form of a backyard pool/wishing well. This is Williams’ way of injecting blue-collar Australian stereotypes with an aura of Voodooism. It’s quite amusing to see these banal objects dolled up as mystic shrines. The video installations are in the same tenor, depicting a group of masked figures enacting a choreographed ritual. Although there's an obvious leaning towards Mexico's Day of the Dead festivities, with their cartoonish eyes and decorated sombreros, these lavish DIY costumes look like something you might see in The Mighty Boosh. This is a sprawling kind of exhibition; however, one of the most self-contained sections consists of a makeshift garage. With clear corrugated roofing and a stack of old televisions, it looks like a sanctuary for the typical '90s teenager. Flickering colours are reminiscent of early MTV or Rocko’s Modern Life, making it a surprisingly nostalgic little alcove. Williams' brand is a theatre of excess with a taste for the exotic. And The Curtain Breathed Deeply is an immersive sensory experience to say the least. Full of joyous and psychotic energies, it's like being inside the artist's head. It’s a fairly nonsensical universe. But it’s a fun one.
There are few bands with enough unfaltering stamina to line up a debaucherous, beer-fuelled pub crawl to kick off every night of their Australian tour. But Brisbane's Dune Rats leave the rules at home, abiding by one big ol' proviso: "no kooks, no gutties." Whatever the blazes that means, these bloody corker dudes surf self-generated waves of laidback party-fuelled philosophy. Dune Rats' BC Michaels, Danny Beusa and Brett Jansch have been away from home for some time now, heading to the US, staying in a New York AirBnB warehouse, driving along the West Coast from San Diego to Vancouver and filming their own (sorta) web series American Death Trip of Dreams. Then they bailed over to Europe and the UK. After months on the road, the Dunies will head back home to Australia for a national tour, showcasing their debut album set for release on June 1. It'll be the first time the trio have played to home audiences for months. The tour kicks off on the west coast and ends up back where they all started. "I'm pretty fucking excited to get home, that's for sure. We haven't played in Brissy for ages," says bass player Brett Jansch. "We've been away for so long and hopefully we can just get back and hang out with our buddies and just talk about anything else, find out what they're doin'. Pieced together like a rambunctious escapade of regrets, the Dunies will host a pub crawl in every city before the gig for fans who've preordered their debut album (out June 1). Dune Rats is a rambunctious ride through moments of pure silliness ('Dalai Lama' has five words in total: "Dalai Lama, Big Banana, marijuana,") and heartfelt bouts ('Home Sick'). "Well I guess you just want to get as fucked up as possible before the gig with all our friends and buddies that have preordered the album in order to come to the pub crawl," Jansch says in a wink-wink, nudge-nudge moment of please-buy-our-albumness. "We'll find the right place where we can all hang out together near the venue or whatever and just go pub to pub. "So honestly, we'll be going on a pub crawl all around Australia I guess. I wonder if anyone will come all the way with us. If someone does, they can definitely have a fuckin' t-shirt! They can have a hangover as well." Supporting Dune Rats will be different buds in each state. "We've kind of put together just all our fucking favourite bands and our friends to play, you know... So it's going to be a fucking party every night, especially now with our pub crawls and shit.," Jasnch realises. "Fuck, I think it's going to be a full wash up by the end of it." Check out our chat with Dune Rats bass player Brett Jansch over here. TO REGISTER FOR THE DUNIES PRE PARTIES: 1. Pre-order the album Dune Rats for ten beans at iTunes or JB HiFi. 2. Forward your iTunes or JB HiFi album preorder receipt and your mobile number to stuff@ratbagrecords.com. 3. Let the Dunies you're off to the Sydney show at Oxford Art Factory. 4. Wait. Recieve the deets on the morning of the show. Then party on dudes. For more details about the Dune Rats pub crawls and to preorder the album head over here. Dune Rats debut album is out Sunday, June 1. https://youtube.com/watch?v=lU3n6vRX8yY
The Thredbo Freestyle Series is one of the few comps on the planet that calls for skiers of all levels. Whether you carve it up like Lindsey Vonn or you’re still experiencing pride at your newly acquired snow ploughing skills, you can get in on the action. And let’s face it: the more variety there is, the more fun the spectators will have. Five events make up the series — Slopestyle, Ridercross, Big Air, Banzai off the Bluff and Rails — and they’ll be happening over the course of July and August. Winners will be announced in every event, and, at the end, an overall, out-of-control Freestyle champion will be crowned. To be a part of the first chapter of the affair — Rails — rock up at the Thredbo Tennis Courts on Thursday, July 17. At 3.30pm, you’ll be handed your bib; from 4pm, training will begin; and, at 5pm, skiers and boarders of all abilities, shapes and sizes will head to Friday Flat for the starting gun. Once darkness starts to fall, spotlights will take over, keeping visible the array of specially built course features and the athletes attempting to conquer them. Live DJs will be supplying the tunes. Don’t fancy competing? Just come along and watch — it's a visual spectacle worth dragging yourself out of the Rekorderlig Hot Pool for.
There's a slight fuzz in the air on the East Coast. Twangy surf pop and singalong garage punk are teaming up in a predicted humdinger of a co-headlining tour — Brisbane charmers Major Leagues and Sydney's rascally trio Bloods have joined forces for one rambunctious escapade. Offering up gems from their Weird Season EP as well as snippets from their upcoming debut album, Major Leagues have had major deal signings and huge festival appearances on their plate over the last year. Bloods have their own reason to celebrate. Their latest single 'Want It' (to be officially launched on the tour) offers the sneakiest peek into their upcoming debut album, a hotly-anticipated LP set for release through brand new independent label Tiny Galaxy. Meandering into Newtown Social Club on Thursday, June 19, the local legends of fuzz, feedback and fun will throw down fast and furious sets one after the other. Major Leagues last supported Bloods alongside The Fabergettes last year at Brighton Up Bar and the Upstairs Beresford for the Sydney trio's EP launch. This time around Major Leagues and Bloods will be joined by the outstandingly-named Sydney duo, Hockey Dad. Gear up in your most easily toe-tappable, hair-thrashable threads and get a healthy dose of fuzz in your earholes, this one's going to be a right royal shindig. https://youtube.com/watch?v=n3NJc5ugGms
