Thanks to the franchise's increasingly over-the-top sequels, it's easy to dismiss John Rambo as an idiotic and cartoonish action hero whose movies readily employ more bullets than brain cells. That would be to forget how pointed and politically charged First Blood was when it came out in 1982. Grappling with issues such as the hidden wounds of post-traumatic stress disorder and the disenfranchisement of Vietnam vets, the original film presented Rambo as a tragic figure simply trying (and failing) to slip silently through society's cracks as a harmless and withdrawn loner. In the original cut, he actually committed suicide, only for test audiences to declare the ending too disheartening and morose — hardly the stuff of action heroes. So it was that a franchise was born — one in which Rambo was slowly reinvented as a one-man killing machine and poster child for US military might. Politics and social themes were still in there, but the emphasis shifted with each instalment. First Blood Part II held mostly true to its origins, showing the secret abandonment of American prisoners-of-war and the disposability of assets like Rambo by the very government they vowed to serve. By Rambo III, however, the villain was now the Soviet Union, with the film concluding with a dedication to "the gallant people of Afghanistan". Yet even with the third movie's souped-up action, Stallone continued to present Rambo as a tragic figure, suffering in silence, tormented by demons, seeking penance wherever opportunity presents and as uncomfortable as ever over his god-given gift: dealing death better than anyone else. Rambo, coming out 20 years after its immediate predecessor in 2008, focused its politics on the atrocities of the army in Myanmar, however it also introduced a level of violence and gore that went far beyond anything previously seen in the franchise. There was a bloodlust to it, taking it out of harmless action-movie fun, and into something uncomfortable and almost voyeuristic. There were still some great moments, but it was clear that the franchise and character had changed forever. Which brings us to Rambo: Last Blood — a film that aspires to be Logan, yet lands somewhere closer to The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Plot-wise, the trailers intimated something to do with hidden secrets coming back to claim their dues. Not so. Co-written by Stallone and directed by Adrian Grunberg (Get the Gringo), this is essentially Taken, Mexico-style. Rambo's niece Gabrielle (Yvette Monreal) is drugged, kidnapped and groomed as a sex slave south of the border, compelling him to use his "very particular set of skills, skills... acquired over a very long career, skills that make [him] a nightmare for people like [cartels]" (as Liam Neeson would put it) until he baits his new enemies to chase him back to Arizona. It's a bizarre mishmash of storylines, all trying to ground themselves in Rambo's ongoing PTSD. Sometimes that's done well, revealing that he sleeps underground in a Viet Cong-styled network of tunnels beneath his family ranch — or when he admits he never got better, but rather he's just trying to "keep a lid on it". Most of the time, though, the film feels rushed and clumsy. Cheap, even. Rambo is still softly spoken and withdrawn, but the nuance is no longer apparent. He abhors violence, yet maintains a terrifying arsenal of knives, guns and explosives. And beneath that picturesque ranch is a straight-up house of horrors, physically and psychologically. But is the film still enjoyable? Mostly, no. Last Blood's quiet moments feel forced compared to the surprisingly tender or revealing offerings from earlier instalments, and the action is heavily abbreviated for most of the movie — no doubt because Stallone is now 73. The ending, however, is a different story. It's at once insanely silly and confessedly satisfying: a veritable smorgasbord of gruesome deaths packed into a tight 10-minute sequence, culminating in one of cinema's most gory finishes. Suffice it to say, the audience in the press screening was both hiding behind its hands and cheering amidst horrified laughter. It's one of those rare cinematic experiences that brings a room of strangers together in a weird but wonderful way. And as for this being Rambo's Logan moment... we'll save the spoilers and leave it up to you to find out. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83nGns3pErk
When he's not playing the hero — anti- or otherwise —, Vin Diesel is quite the fan of Dungeons & Dragons. It's worth keeping that tidbit in mind as The Last Witch Hunter unravels, because that's where the film finds its basis. Cory Goodman, one of the movie's three writers, reportedly bonded with Diesel over their shared fondness for the fantasy role-playing game, then wrote a script based upon the actor's witch hunter D&D character. Goodman's love letter to his leading man's favourite pastime has since been filtered through two other scribes (Dracula Untold's Matt Sazama and Burk Sharpless), as well as Sahara and The Crazies director Breck Eisner. But that doesn't stop it from feeling like the indulgent exercise that it is. And while no one is decrying Diesel for wanting to do something on film other than driving fast cars furiously and exchanging lingering glances with The Rock, he's not asked to do much here other than look serious amid some supernatural special effects. As the movie's moniker gives away, Diesel's Kaulder is the final fighter of the bewitching folk who live among humanity, and has been for eight centuries. After he vanquished the Witch Queen in the 13th century, he was cursed with immortality, meaning years of trying to rid the world of the evil and enchanting. As his offsider (Michael Caine) prepares to retire and let a newcomer (Elijah Wood) take his place, a fresh source of wicked sorcery strikes. With his past the key to his present predicament, Kaulder must call upon bar-owning good witch Chloe (Rose Leslie) to help him plunge into his own memories and track down his new foe. That The Last Witch Hunter comes across as Batman-esque isn't just a byproduct of Caine playing a butler-like priest. When a moody, brooding warrior stalks the city streets slaying enemies, motivated by personal losses and a blistering sense of righteousness, it's not hard to find similarities between the two. Alas, the comparison doesn't bode well for the derivative film currently on screens, particularly when there's not much more of a plot to tie it to. Diesel tries his best to make his scowling charm cover up the lack of narrative excitement, but though his efforts are noted, they're not the magic fix the movie needs. Still, other than slick-enough visuals and a few fun touches (a ravenous monster for a prison and a tree bewitched to appear to grow gummy bears, for example), he remains the best element of the surprisingly action-sparse film. He might stand around more than you'd think he should, but you have to admire his dedication to the messiness that surrounds him. Audiences might not be engaged in the occult antics that pad out the film's running time, nor the plodding dialogue that does the same, but at least Diesel is committed — and considerably more so than his seemingly bored co-stars, as doesn't escape attention. Unfortunately, as the later two Riddick films proved, his enthusiasm isn't enough to brighten up the blandness he willingly and affectionately wades into when he's not behind the wheel of a high-octane franchise. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsuG2JUgs_8
Partway through The High Note, lifelong music buff and aspiring producer Maggie Sherwoode (Dakota Johnson) sits in a recording studio with the up-and-coming musician, David Cliff (Kelvin Harrison Jr), she's certain will be the next best thing. He's singing while she's listening, but the latter doesn't like what she hears — so she slides into the booth with him, spins an inspiring story designed to get him both excited and comfortable, and coaxes out his smooth, melodic, possible hit single-worthy best. It's one of those exchanges that only exists in the movies, and in cinema's fantasy vision of the creative process. It also sparks an obvious train of thought among the film's audience. There's much that's likeable about this overtly formulaic feature, but The High Note always feels like it could've used a bit of coaxing and massaging itself — and a confidence boost to help it serve up some unexpected beats. After first crossing David's path in a grocery store, via a meet-cute that involves arguing over the merits of Phantom Planet's The OC theme 'California' while buying ice blocks, Maggie convinces him to let her produce his first record. But that's actually her after-hours job. By day, every day (and often at night, too), she's a committed and overworked personal assistant to 11-time Grammy-winning R&B superstar Grace Davis (Tracee Ellis Ross). That's a demanding gig, albeit for a legend; however Maggie dreams of more than merely ferrying her idol around town, picking up her dry cleaning and administering enemas on tour. With Grace's latest string of shows wrapping up, a live greatest hits album in the works and no new music released for some time, the singer herself also wants more, but her long-time manager Jack (Ice Cube) is trying to push her towards the easy money of a ten-year Las Vegas residency. With 2019's Late Night, filmmaker Nisha Ganatra stepped inside the world of television, contrasting the journeys of a hardworking woman just starting out and a celebrated but stern female veteran of the field who is unsure of what she wants for the future. Switch the setup to music, then swap Mindy Kaling's smart Late Night screenplay for a thoroughly by-the-numbers affair by first-timer Flora Greeson, and The High Note is the end result — but without any of the resonant commentary that made its predecessor as clever and savvy as it was amusing and affecting. The fact that it isn't easy being a woman in music isn't ignored here, but it's pointed out via generic lines of dialogue that simply sound like throwaway soundbites. The reality that both ageism and racism blight the industry too, and that a hugely successful Black woman over 40 still gets ignored by those calling the shots, receives the same cursory treatment. Instead, The High Note is more content to keep any statements as superficial and easy as a disposable pop song, and to deliver as standard a feel-good fairy tale-style film about chasing one's dream as an algorithm would probably spit out. Also ranking among The High Note's struggles: a blatant, not-at-all surprising soap opera-esque twist that takes the plot into cringe-worthy territory, and a self-parodying cameo by Diplo as an autotune-loving remix specialist that overstays its short duration. Then there's the manoeuvring needed to get all the movie's main players — plus Bill Pullman as Maggie's widowed radio DJ dad, who has a thing for covers — to Catalina Island for a big climactic moment. This all smacks of a feature that could've used another few passes before making it to the screen, but tries to bop along by being be glossy and breezy. And The High Note most definitely is visibly slick and shiny, as well as light and upbeat in tone. While that isn't enough to significantly boost its fortunes, the film does benefit from a rousing soundtrack that spans both new tracks and vintage hits (including an appealing singalong to TLC's 'No Scrubs', and Harrison Jr crooning 1957 classic 'You Send Me' by the king of soul Sam Cooke). The High Note's best asset is its cast, of course, who constantly make you wish that they were working with better material. The movie's two female leads both follow in their famous mothers' footsteps — with Johnson's mum, Melanie Griffith, playing a put-upon lackey in 80s comedy Working Girl, and Ellis Ross easily sliding into the shoes of a fierce diva like her mum, Diana Ross — and yet neither ever feels as if they're merely going through the motions. After turning in such a forceful and powerful performance in Waves, Harrison Jr is all laidback charm here, and he's just as watchable. Ice Cube also adds texture to his thinly written part, but it's the fate of two supporting actors that completely sums up the movie. The comically gifted June Diane Raphael (Long Shot) steals every scene she's in as Grace's vain, self-obsessed housekeeper, while Eddie Izzard possesses both bite and spark as another veteran singer — and, although they're barely in the film, it would've hit far higher notes if it had spent more time with either instead of with its bland main storylines. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OAxtH_xwlnM Top image: ©2020 Focus Features, LLC. All Rights Reserved.
It may have taken 15 years and two full blown reboots, but the Spider-Man movies finally have a decent villain. Gone are the Green Goblins and anthropomorphic sandpits, replaced at long last by...a guy. Just a guy; a vulnerable, human, salt-of-the-earth labourer trying to carve out a little something of his own amongst the rubble and ruin of a post-Avengers New York City. Played by Michael Keaton, Adrian Toomes is an ordinary character in an extraordinary world, whose bare bones simplicity helps ground this refreshingly low-key entry in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. And low-key is the key to this movie's appeal. Spidey (Tom Holland) isn't a world saver, but a hero for the little guy; intervening in grocery store holdups and helping grandparents with their luggage. The problem is that he wants more. He's fought alongside Iron Man and taken on Captain America, and the expectation of future avenging is what drives his daily routine. Expectation, however, soon falls short of reality, as he's told by Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr) that which no teenager ever wishes to hear: "you're not ready". What's worse is that Stark is plainly right. Thing is, gaining super-powers doesn't mean you automatically gain super skills, and Spidey/Peter Parker is a superhero still very much in the training wheels phase. It's a clever device by director Jon Watts, whose hero – like a giraffe attempting its nervous first steps – repeatedly fumbles his landings, misses his web castings and wreaks low-level havoc in suburban backyards while chasing down the bad guys. Paired with raging hormones in a body that's also transforming in a more typically teenage way, and Peter makes for an immensely likeable lead. It helps that Holland makes for a far more plausible teen than either Tobey Maguire or Andrew Garfield. The teenage superhero setup has always given Spiderman an added complexity (one perhaps only shared by Superman), in that his public persona is painfully weak and nerdy. Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark get to be billionaire playboys when they're not battling criminal kingpins, but Peter Parker is perceived as a weedy, bookish, scatter-brained dork who rolls over for bullies and can never keep an appointment. His life would be immediately and immeasurably better if he simply revealed his true, courageous self. But to do so would invite sudden and deadly peril upon all those he cares about. That dilemma, in turn, passes on to the audience, as you find yourself grappling with your desire to see Spider-Man take down the villains but also make his date with the dream girl. Even better, it all comes without another version of Uncle Ben's 'great power comes with great responsibilities' speech, or another retelling of Parker's spider-bite origins. Spider-Man: Homecoming is a film that knows what we already know, and just gets on with telling its story. If there's a drawback to all of this, it's that the final product feels a little bit childish. Yes, it's a film about a teenage superhero, but plenty of movies have captured the teenage experience without feeling like they were written by teenagers as well. There's far too much 'whoa, awesome, dude, bro, cool' going on here for our liking, although thankfully the adults (Downey Jr, Jon Favreau, Marisa Tomei and Keaton) provide plenty of counterbalance. Minor flaws aside, Spider-Man: Homecoming is a fun cinema experience, and a refreshingly human story amidst the surfeit of superhero movies that continue to flood our screens. Oh, and yes, there are the additional Marvel scenes – so if you're so inclined, remember to stay through to the very end of the credits. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9DwoQ7HWvI
If we have to have more superhero movies, and it would seem we've no say in the matter, let's just hope they at least try to be as disruptive and refreshing as Shazam! After early misfires in the shape of Justice League and Man of Steel, DC, at long last, have got another one right. Full of life, laughs and (thank God) light, Shazam! is the kind of carefree superhero film that reinvigorates the fantasy of actually being a superhero. For so long now, the "with great power comes great responsibility" mantra has sucked the enjoyment right out of the genre (at least on the DC side), making the very idea of having extraordinary powers seem like a complete drag. Here, though, thanks to the wide-eyed, goofy-grinning performance by leading man Zachary Levi, it seems like an absolute blast. Levi plays Shazam (Solomon, Hercules, Atlas, Zeus, Achilles and Mercury all rolled into one), a muscle-bound, invulnerable and electricity-enhanced hero whose magical powers lie within his alter-ego, 14-year-old foster kid Billy Batson (Asher Angel). Batson is given his powers by an old wizard in a last-gasp effort to stave off the impending attack from a gang of demons known as the Seven Deadly Sins, who take up residence within the deliciously-evil Thaddeus Sivana (Mark Strong). Where Shazam! departs from most other films of this genre is how long it spends with Batson and his foster-care brother Freddy (Jack Dylan Grazer) as they explore the possibilities and powers stemming from the sudden discovery of superhuman abilities. Can Shazam fly? Is he bulletproof, or is it just his suit? And, most important of all, can they buy beer now that one of them looks like an adult? It may feel a little childish at times, but that's actually a testament to writer Henry Gayden and director David F. Sandberg (Annabelle: Creation), since children is precisely what Billy and Freddy are. Perhaps even more critical to Shazam!'s appeal, though, is its heartfelt relationships. It's a family film about family – the search for a missing mother, the sting of a father's rejection and the love from a family united not by blood but by circumstance. Led by foster parents Victor and Rosa Vasquez (Cooper Andrews and Marta Milans), Billy's new foster home brings together an impossibly endearing gang of multicultural misfits: Mary (Grace Fulton), Pedro (Jovan Armand), Eugene (Ian Chen), and Darla (Faithe Herman). Orphans are just about the superhero genre's most consistent trope, but here it's explored in an entirely new way, and the foster family scenes are amongst the film's best. A word of warning, though: whilst Shazam! is a big bunch of laughs and a whole lot of silliness, there's definitely enough to spook younger viewers. The Sins, for example, are like the red-eyed Gozer dominions from Ghostbusters, and their nightmarish takedown of a company board meeting in the film's opening stages isn't without a heady dose of horror. Still, the rest of the movie offers mostly light fare, and some of its greatest gags are also those most closely linked to the superhero staples (Strong's villainous speech during the film's climax being the best of the bunch). In all, Shazam! is like Superman's goofball cousin; a casual, crazy and cheeky take on the childhood fantasy of being bigger, faster, stronger and, above all, wanted. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=go6GEIrcvFY
Beware the luxurious worlds of Ruben Östlund's films. Beware any feelings of ease, opulence or awe that spring at ski resorts, in art museums, within the fashion industry or on high-end holidays, too. The Swedish filmmaker isn't interested in keeping his characters comfortable regardless of their lavish surroundings, and he isn't keen on ensuring his viewers remain relaxed, either, no matter how cushy their cinema chairs. To watch the writer/director's movies is to observe his on-screen figures responding to chaos flung their way, which is true of all features. That said, to watch here is to actively feel a reaction. It's virtually impossible not to experience a cascade of emotions as an Östlund-penned and -helmed picture flickers, and sometimes it's just as difficult to avoid a physical response. With his latest, Triangle of Sadness, the titular space between your eyebrows definitely gets a workout. Other than that last part, all of the above proved true of 2014's phenomenal Force Majeure, which wasn't Östlund's first or even second or third feature, but served up as clever and cringe-inducing a portrait of marriage and masculinity as the 21st century has provided (just forget Downhill, the American remake he had nothing to do with). Then, with dropped jaws over a divisive piece of art within a divisive piece of art, it was accurate of 2018's The Square, the writer/director's first Cannes Film Festival Palme d'Or-recipient, too. And, earning him that same prestigious prize again in 2022 — putting him in rarefied company alongside just eight other twice-winning directors/co-directors, in fact — it's also wholly applicable to Triangle of Sadness. This time, he has modelling, influencers and the super-rich in his sights, all in a movie that keeps doing what Östlund loves: unpacking societal structures and the divides they rely on (and cause). Make a feature with a shape in its title, score one of the biggest filmmaking awards there is: yes, that's been a nifty formula for Östlund of late. But even if he directs a flick called something like Hexagonal Dreaming in the future — or anything else with a geometrical bent, for that matter — and that too nabs Cannes' famed top gong, managing to beat Triangle of Sadness' vomit sequence is highly unlikely. For a director who enjoys cutting the privileged and supposedly prestigious down to size without opting for simplistic judgements, getting the uber-wealthy spewing their guts up on a yacht getaway is one helluva leveller. Money can't buy you a solution to basic bodily functions when food poisoning and seasickness strike, and doesn't this scathingly entertaining flick revel in that notion at its most gleefully gross. To remind audiences that responding to films and life alike is an involuntary reflex, Östlund shows a swag of his characters doing just that — to existence, and to a choppy cruise also populated by arms dealers and literal shit salesmen. It makes for unforgettable cinema, but it's also just one part of Triangle of Sadness and its sublimely shot unpacking of affluence, entitlement, social hierarchies and beauty as currency. Appearing to be coasting through perfection is an ongoing quest for Carl (Harris Dickinson, See How They Run) and Yaya (Charlbi Dean, Black Lightning), models-slash-influencers and the movie's focal point. From the outset, however, including across an opening third set on dry land and a final act that gets stranded and sandy, nothing is straightforward. Eating the rich is easy and delicious, not to mention a major on-screen trend of late (see: Parasite, Succession, The White Lotus, Knives Out and Glass Onion, just to name a few), but Östlund has much to chew. When Carl is first introduced, he's one among a sea of jobbing male models, all attempting to ply their handsomeness for a paycheque. In a Zoolander-esque moment, Triangle of Sadness points out the fashion world's inbuilt sense of class as the casting call's attendees are asked to grin like they're posing for an affordable brand, then grimace like they're in ads for an expensive line — and no, this isn't a subtle picture. Cash is an ongoing point of contention for Carl anyway, given he earns less than Yaya as male models tend to yet still largely picks up the bill for their dinners. When the duo take to the ocean to sip champagne, loll about by the pool and ignore the hardworking crew surrounded by the one-percent, he's still working the requisite angles. Meanwhile, Yaya is snapping them, recording everything for Instagram from every vantage possible. Going on vacation in an Östlund film isn't a great idea. On this holiday, under the drunken captain's (Woody Harrelson, Venom: Let There Be Carnage) watch, sunbaking on the deck gives way to those projectile technicolour yawns — and other evacuations — then to an unexpected destination. Onboard the yacht, the chasms between the haves and have nots are as glaring as the sunny weather, but that setup isn't sustainable when gale-force winds and pirates get in the way. Only Filipino toilet cleaner Abigail (Dolly De Leon, Folklore) knows how to catch fish, clean and cook them, and build a fire, after all, but Carl and Yaya's post-cruise life isn't an egalitarian wonderland. A big bank balance means nothing but beauty still means plenty — and the way that Östlund satirically carves into the resulting mayhem is equally hilarious and and astute, even when his film is both obvious and overt. There's nothing restrained about excess as its zenith — "everyone's equal," the boat's staff are ignorantly told when a guest flat-out forces them to go swimming on a shift — and there needn't be about scorching interrogations of all that overindulgence. Östlund is both blunt and oh-so-sharp, and broad yet targeted; Triangle of Sadness does love its contradictions, after all, including an American Marxist and Russian capitalist trading quotes and worldviews, the contrast between all things shiny and bodily fluid-fuelled sequences, and the perception-versus-reality of Carl and Yaya's existence across each of the picture's three sections. The game cast are up to the seesawing challenge, especially the formidable De Leon as someone even the film itself overlooks to begin with, Dickinson as the idealistic but practical Carl, and the late Dean as the enterprising yet oblivious Yaya. Having his regular cinematographer Fredrik Wenzel point a static camera their way and wait for statement-making awkwardness to gush seems like a natural decision, and it is, but Östlund remains masterful at putting the right pieces in place.
For four decades, Iranian filmmaker Abbas Kiarostami explored his homeland — and sometimes the world as well — through a deeply thoughtful, probing and humanist lens. His features don't simply peer on at people and the places they call home; the late, great director's films truly see both his characters and the spaces they inhabit. And when he passed away in 2016, he left cinema with an exquisite body of work. This year, Sydney Film Festival and the Australian Centre for the Moving Image are teaming up to pay tribute to the inimitable auteur, in the sixth of their collaborations to-date. Thanks to a retrospective season called The Long & Winding Road: The Films of Abbas Kiarostami, the two organisations will screen eight of Kiarostami's features and three of his shorts — and gems abound across the lineup. In Sydney, the program will play during SFF — so, between Wednesday, August 18–Sunday, August 29 at a variety of Sydney cinemas — and spans early works, award-winners and seminal Iranian features all-round. Among the highlights: Kiarostami's debut The Traveler, about a boy who desperately wants to attend a soccer match; Close-Up, which blends fiction and documentary; Ten, his snapshot of the lives of contemporary Iranian women; and Taste of Cherry, the first Iranian film to win the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival.
Whatever Pedro Almodóvar and Penélope Cruz happen to be selling — and whenever, and in whichever films — audiences should always be buying. It isn't quite right to liken the acclaimed filmmaker's long-running collaboration with one of his favourite leading ladies to commerce, though, so another comparison fits better: whatever this duo birth into the world, viewers should embrace as a parent does a child. Across four decades now, the Spanish pair has gorgeously and soul-stirringly made cinematic art with the utmost understanding of how to make people feel. They know how people feel, too, and have the combined resumes best exemplified by Live Flesh, All About My Mother, Volver, Broken Embraces, Pain and Glory and now Parallel Mothers to prove it. Their shared filmography also constantly demonstrates another essential insight into human existence: that life is emotion, whether facing its beginning, end or both. Now helming his 22nd feature, Almodóvar has long filled his works with other recurrent inclusions and fascinations, many of which also burst onto the screen again here. When he initially united with Cruz on 1997's Live Flesh, she gave birth on a bus; in their second pairing, the Oscar-winning All About My Mother, she played a pregnant nun; with their most recent collaboration before this, Pain and Glory, she was mum to the writer/director's fictionalised surrogate — so that she's one of his titular matriarchs now is vintage Almodóvar. He brings back another of his veteran stars in Rossy de Palma (Julieta), paints with the vibrant-toned costume and set design that make his movies such a blissful sight for colour-seeking eyes, and focuses on mothers of all shades navigating life's many difficulties as well. Yes, Parallel Mothers is classic Almodóvar, but nothing about that description ever simply unfurls as expected. As the movie's moniker indicates, Janis, the almost-40 photographer that Cruz (The 355) inhabits with the quiet force and fragility that's second nature whenever she's directed by Almodóvar, is just one of Parallel Mothers' mums. Teenager Ana (Milena Smit, Cross the Line) is the other and, despite the feature's title, their stories keep converging. The two first meet in a Madrid hospital, where they share a room, give birth simultaneously, chat about how they're each going it alone with no father in the picture and quickly form a bond — as different as they otherwise appear, down to contrasting sources of support (Janis' brightly attired magazine-editor best friend Elena, which is where de Palma pops up, versus Ana's self-obsessed and distant actress mother Teresa, played by Estoy vivo's Aitana Sánchez-Gijón). Janis and Ana descend separately into motherhood afterwards, but twists of fate keep bringing them back together. Soapiness, aka the kinds of narrative developments characteristic of daytime TV, is another of Almodóvar's touches. But while his career has spanned films light and camp, dark and serious, and almost everything in-between, he inherently recognises that the line between what's dismissed as melodramatic contrivance and what people do truly experience is thinner than a blue slash on a positive pregnancy test. He unravels Parallel Mothers' story with that notion beaming underneath, and while also tackling a real and grim chapter of his country's history that he's never overtly confronted in his work. Before Janis and Ana can meet again and again, their lives and those of their infant daughters' forever intertwined, Janis gets in the family way to anthropologist Arturo (Israel Elejalde, 45 rpm) — who she snaps at a job, then asks to unearth the mass grave in her village that she suspects has housed her great-grandfather's body since he went missing in the Spanish Civil War. A lesser filmmaker would fail to convincingly stitch together Parallel Mothers' past and present, and wouldn't turn the picture into a missive of hope for the future as well — an ode to the ways in which women have weathered the ills, woes, wars and heartbreaks of oft-absent men, and a musing on how acknowledging that reality is a key step to reshaping it. Almodóvar is an exceptional filmmaker, of course, and so every bold move he makes here excavates multi-layered complexity, emotion and, to borrow his last release's name, pain and glory. His embrace of soap opera-style twists and the lingering shadows of Spain's recent history in tandem is chaotic, but his film never sports that air because it accepts it all as truth. There's no heightened histrionics — just the awareness that life is emotion because it's a state of ongoing trauma, as peppered with snatched moments of happiness and learning to appreciate what you can so that you can keep going on. Warm and radiant, and as great as she's ever been for Almodóvar or in any feature, the magnificent Cruz internalises this concept — of enduring and persevering, whether in tirelessly striving to finally exhume her family's past, in lucking into becoming a mother, or when faced with a certainty that's the stuff of maternal nightmares — so completely and sensitively that she's sheer on-screen perfection. There's nothing thin about her performance, but you can see right into it, gleaning the whirlwind of complicated factors that push, pull, swirl, sway and motivate Janis' every choice. She's amply matched by Smit, who turns in a far more internalised portrayal, but one that's still a revelatory portrait of resilience and resolve in its own way. That said, Almodóvar may love his strong female leads, but he also adores flaws; in his movies, no one is faultless, and his characters and the performances behind them are all the more powerful for it. Also potent: Almodóvar's style, rampant as it is, and what it conveys about the tale he's telling. His work is never just about what happens, but how — and with his players, the same rings true in their actions — so all of the colours, deep-focus shots, close-ups of Cruz and Smit's faces, mirrored images featuring the pair and sometimes-sudden edits that bring this picture to fruition are pivotal pieces in Parallel Mothers' puzzle. The mastery of the director's returning technical talents (cinematographer José Luis Alcaine, composer Alberto Iglesias, editor Teresa Font, costumer Paola Torres and production designer Antxón Gómez, all back from Pain and Glory) helps shape the film into a haunted Hitchcockian thriller at times, for example, as well as a clear-eyed look at Spanish history. It's as visually arresting as an Almodóvar movie can be, too, and interweaves its seemingly disparate approaches as commandingly as it does its chalk-and-cheese narrative threads. Sensual and savvy and always sublime, Parallel Mothers sells everything within its immaculate frames — and surrendering to its emotional, visual and thematic pull is as natural as life and death.
When Lerida Estate first planted its vineyard back in 1997 — taking over almost 20 acres beneath the ACT's Lake George range — it did so with a firm aim in mind: making an outstanding pinot noir. More than two decades later, the Canberra District winery has more than a few drops to its name, and a sizeable range of varieties. It's also home to an onsite cafe, should you be in the area. But, back to the vino, which you can enjoy without making the trip down south. Alongside an array of well-known tipples, Lerida Estate makes a mean tempranillo, using the full-bodied black grape variety that's native to Spain. Expect the scent of cherry, a fruity taste and a weighty feel on the palate, all as part of a red wine that goes well with just about anything. If you're eager to stop by Lerida Estate in-person, you can enjoy lunch among the grapevines from 11.30am–3pm daily — with drinks (aka wine, wine and more wine) on offer from 10am—5pm.
A character drama about a West Texas woman who wins the lottery, but six years later has nothing to show for it except pain, alcoholism and burned bridges, To Leslie is all about English talent Andrea Riseborough's remarkable performance — famously so thanks to her Best Actress Oscar nomination for an indie film widely underseen until that nod of approval. Nothing can take away the power of the Mandy, Possessor and Amsterdam star's stunning portrayal. A spectacular performance is a spectacular performance regardless of what surrounds it. So, Riseborough's work in the debut feature from seasoned TV director Michael Morris (Better Call Saul, 13 Reasons Why, Brothers & Sisters) remains a gut-punch no matter the controversy around the campaign by high-profile names to help get her the Academy's recognition, with Kate Winslet, Edward Norton and Jennifer Aniston among those advocating for accolades. To Leslie remains Riseborough's movie despite comedian and actor Mark Maron uttering the words that sum it up best, too. In his latest compassionate performance — with a less-gruff edge than he sports in GLOW — he plays Sweeney, the co-proprietor of a roadside motel in Leslie's hometown. That's where she ends up again after the money runs out, plus her luck and everyone she knows' patience with it. As scripted by Ryan Binaco (3022), Sweeney is another of To Leslie's flawed characters. The movie teems with such folks because everyone of us is flawed, and it sees that truth with the clearest of eyes. In a sincere but awkward chat, Sweeney explains how his now ex-wife's drinking helped end his marriage; however, he catches himself afterwards, making a point to say that just because his story turned out like that, that doesn't mean Leslie's will as well, or that he thinks it that'll occur. One person's tale can be everyone's — cinema, and storytelling in general, thrives on the fact that the deeply specific can be profoundly universal — but no one's experiences ever play out exactly as another's have. That's an essential message at the heart of To Leslie, and it's one that asks for understanding but not judgement. While watching the film's very fictional namesake on-screen, it's easy to spy parallels, to relate, and to feel what it is to be in Leslie, Sweeney or the feature's other figures' shoes. Movies are empathy machines, after all. That said, battling assumptions about what the course that Leslie's story has to follow, and what that says about her and other people who've struggled with addiction and poverty, is as important to Morris and Binaco's picture as Risebourgh's awards-worthy performance. There's such weight and soul to the actor's titular portrayal in this tale of redemption — when Leslie is at her best, worst, hovering in-between and splashing between the two extremes alike. In early footage that's repeated later, Riseborough is giddily ecstatic holding a giant cheque for $190,000 and hollering in a local news interview about what an impact it'll make (and promising to spoil her young son). She cuts a still-wiry, still-determined sight, but now fraught rather than euphoric, in the hard jump to after the cash has been drunk away, which is when she's being kicked out of her The Florida Project-style digs for not paying her bill. There's a visible difference between the two Leslies, as her grown-up boy James (Teague, The Stand) notes without saying when she reunites with him next — but much of Riseborough's efforts are about what's churning inside Leslie moment by moment, whether inebriated, desperate for whatever she can sip or stone-cold sober. When she turns up carting a pink suitcase containing all of her worldly belongings, James has one rule for Leslie's attempts to reconnect: no booze. Part of the heartbreak of To Leslie, and of Riseborough's performance, is foreseeing what might happen while witnessing how Leslie endeavours to battle against it. Similarly, part of the film's joys and surprises spring when addiction doesn't win out. With James, though, Leslie can't keep her promise. When she's sent home to Dutch (Stephen Root, Barry) and Nancy (Allison Janney, Breaking News in Yuba County), pals she was once as close as family with, she's met with the spite and bitterness of former friends rather than a son's disappointment and hurt. The bulk of the small town's residents similarly have long memories, largely treating her as a joke. And Sweeney's colleague Royal (Andre Royo, Truth Be Told) is hesitant when the former sees her sleeping outside their motel, initially runs her off, but then generously offers her both a place to stay and a cleaning job. Country music echoes within the film, heard and spoken about, in a telling choice for a movie about second, third, fourth and fifth chances (and more). Notes of Wild Rose, another feature about a woman piecing her life back together, filter in with that in mind; the two pictures have plenty of dissimilarities, too, but share exceptional leads. Indeed, simply watching Riseborough sit at a bar nursing a drink and listening to a twang-filled tune makes for an astonishing scene, with Morris shrewdly holding the moment, and cinematographer Larkin Seiple (Everything Everywhere All At Once) lighting a lengthy closeup like it's extraordinary and ordinary all at once. In what might be her biggest acting feat in a deservedly well-regarded career, Riseborough knows how to be Leslie, not play her — in this scene and from start to finish. This isn't a performance courting attention, but one committed to conveying what's swishing and swirling within a tumultuous character whose strengths and missteps are both always in view. To Leslie's least impressive trait is its fondness for neat and conventional beats, although Riseborough ensures that even the most predictable plot developments never feel like a standard pour (as does Morris' ability to recognise what he has with Riseborough as the narrative's anchor). Stories can turn out like this, traversing the highs as well as the lows, and To Leslie certainly isn't afraid of getting messy through its protagonist and her lifetime's worth of tussles before it starts letting hope loiter. It definitely isn't scared of showing what's worth striving for, either, be it the tenderness of Leslie and Sweeney's blossoming bond, the yearning of a mother who wants to finally be able to do right by her son, or a path to a future that's safe and sustainable. Riseborough is striving, of course, but her every move and expression — alone, and when paired with the also-excellent Teague, Maron and Janney — couldn't be more raw, complex and lived in.
If the individual movies a director makes can be seen as chapters from an ongoing book, then consider Noah Baumbach the author of a sharp, sweeping coming-of-age chronicle. Whether dissecting mature malaise in Greenberg, the attempts of a twenty-something to find her place in life in Frances Ha or the clash of the two in While We're Young, he remains fascinated with the process of growing up at any stage. In Mistress America, Baumbach offers another instalment on his beloved topic, all while re-teaming with Greta Gerwig. Almost by design, their previous collaboration — both co-writing, him directing and her starring in Frances Ha, as remains the case here — looms large over their latest effort. Consider Frances Ha the fate that could've befallen Mistress America's teenager Tracy (Lola Kirke) after college if she hadn't crossed paths with her stepsister-to-be Brooke (Gerwig), or the past that might've delivered 30-year-old Brooke to her current predicament. The two are brought together by their parents' impending marriage, with Tracy seeing Brooke as the big sis — and guide to life, both in New York and in general — she's never had. They're opposites: Tracy is quiet, lonely and wants to be a writer; Brooke is confident, constantly talks about herself and has an endless array of future plans. As they spend more time together, the seeming differences between the two become less pronounced. That fact isn't lost on Tracy, who starts to imagine Brooke as 'Meadow', the deeply flawed character in her new short story. While finding commonality in Baumbach's films has become unavoidable, that doesn't make his work any less enjoyable or astute. There's a level of comfort to Mistress America's return to the filmmaker's well-traversed terrain, as well as his trademark intelligence and energy. Here, as in the rest of his efforts, he's fleshing out recognisable ideas and anxieties, but done so with slightly different parts. And while the overall message is starting to sound a little repetitive even as it remains accurate, the individual elements still have plenty of charms. The feature is at its best in its wonderful midsection, where it plunges into a superbly executed farce. When a series of circumstances sends the not-quite-siblings plus some of Tracy's friends (Matthew Shear and Jasmine Cephas Jones) on a road trip to Connecticut to visit Brooke's former boyfriend (Heather Lind) and BFF (Michael Chernus), Baumbach takes his favourite themes into shrewd, smart and incisively funny screwball territory. In some of the best sequences the director has committed to the screen, infectious laughter ensues, as does insight and urgency that the rest of the film can't quite match. Of course, that plays into Baumbach's usual oeuvre: what is a coming-of-age story, and his entire output, if not an examination of how to keep going after pivotal moments and turning points?
The Carriageworks Unplugged + Uncomplicated sessions fill the last Saturday of every month with hours of free music. The venue already runs its own kitchen garden to stock the cafe, and for their second session of the year they're planting trees for your entertainment. Or entertaining you for the benefit of trees. As part of their ongoing mission to turn public entertainment into foliage, Music for Trees is putting on a full five hours of music. The event covers Carriageworks' cavernous foyer, letting you sit at the bar, eat at the cafe or simply dot yourself among the equally cavernous beanbags spread around the vaulted concrete space. Saturday's line-up features all-local artists, including the upbeat Liz Martin, guitar duo Tom Hespe and Rich Mason, Emad Younan, often harmonious Bhanglassi, James Brennan and the Brutal Poodles. If you like their sounds, you can donate something to Music for Trees, who'll change every dollar into funding for five seedlings in places where people can't afford to plant. So come to Everleigh and convert an afternoon of blissful sloth into a grove of beautiful saplings.
UPDATE, March 28, 2023: Nope is available to stream via Netflix, Binge, Google Play, YouTube Movies, iTunes and Prime Video. Kudos to Jordan Peele for giving his third feature as a writer/director a haters-gonna-hate-hate-hate name: for anyone unimpressed with Nope, the response is right there. Kudos, too, to the Get Out and Us filmmaker for making his third bold, intelligent and supremely entertaining horror movie in a row — a reach-for-the-skies masterpiece that's ambitious and eerie, imaginative and expertly crafted, as savvy about cinema as it is about spectacle, and inspires the exact opposite term to its moniker. Reteaming with Peele after nabbing an Oscar nomination for Get Out, Daniel Kaluuya utters the titular word more than once in Nope. Exclaiming "yep" in your head each time he does is an instant reaction. Everything about the film evokes that same thrilled endorsement, but it comes particularly easily whenever Kaluuya's character surveys the wild and weird events around him. We say yay to his nays because we know we'd respond the same way if confronted by even half the chaos that Peele whooshes through the movie. As played with near-silent weariness by the always-excellent Judas and the Black Messiah Oscar-winner, Haywood's Hollywood Horses trainer OJ doesn't just dismiss the strange thing in the heavens, though. He can't, even if he doesn't realise the full extent of what's happening when his father (Keith David, Love Life) suddenly slumps on his steed on an otherwise ordinary day. Six months later, OJ and his sister Emerald (Keke Palmer, Lightyear) are trying to keep the family business running; he does the wrangling, she does the on-set safety spiels, which double as a primer on the Haywoods' lengthy links to the movie industry. The first moving images ever presented, by Eadweard Muybridge of a galloping horse in the 1800s, featured their great-great-great grandfather as the jockey, Emerald explains. His image was immortalised, but not his name — and, although she doesn't say it directly, that's a fate she isn't eager to share. In fact, Emerald ends her patter by proclaiming that she's available for almost any Hollywood job that might come up. Unsurprisingly, OJ is horrified about the hustle. Her big chance is indeed tied to their ranch, but not in the way that Emerald initially realises either — because who'd predict that something would be lurking above the Haywoods' Agua Dulce property? Just as Get Out saw Peele reinterrogate the possession movie and Us did the same with doppelgängers, Nope goes all in on flying saucers. So, Emerald wants the kind of proof that only video footage can offer. She wants her "Oprah shot", as well as a hefty payday. Soon, the brother-sister duo are buying new surveillance equipment — which piques the interest of UFO-obsessed electronics salesman Angel Torres (Brandon Perea, The OA) — and also enlisting renowned cinematographer Antlers Holst (Michael Wincott, Veni Vidi Vici) to capture the lucrative image. Cue plenty of faces staring up in shock and wonder, as Steven Spielberg has made a mainstay of his films — and cue a movie that nods to Jaws as much as Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Peele makes smartly and playfully cineliterate flicks, which aren't content to merely wink and nudge, but instead say "yep" themselves: yep to all the tropes and symbols that the comedian-turned-filmmaker can filter through his own lens, and his determination to unearth the reality of living in America today, just as he did when he was making some of this century's best skits on Key & Peele. Indeed, Nope is keenly aware of the lure and power of spectacle, especially the on-screen kind, which also echoes through in the picture's other pivotal character. Ricky 'Jupe' Park (Steven Yeun, Minari) isn't involved in the Haywoods' attempts to snap upwards, but the former child star runs a neighbouring theme park called Jupiter's Claim, which cashes in on his big hit role in a movie called Kid Sheriff. He's known for short-lived 90s sitcom Gordy's Home, too, starring opposite a chimpanzee, and moments of the show also pop up in Peele's film. A creepy glimpse at Gordy's Home actually opens Nope, starting the feature with a cryptic teaser that couldn't be more potent. Menace hovering above, sprawling vistas and the clouds that pepper them, galloping horses, rampaging apes, waving skydancers, cheesy Wild West shows, predators versus prey, the quest for fame and its self-destructive toll, cashing in: that all earns Peele's attention, weaved together in one jaw-droppingly impressive and unnerving package. This is the filmmaker's clever and compelling stab at a monster movie as well, which applies in a variety of manners. Here's one that doesn't give too much away: the way that animals have been exploited for entertainment, coupled with humanity's pursuit of bigger and better spectacles no matter the consequences, has long proven an act of monstrousness to be battled. Here's another: chasing visual thrills isn't innocent, a truth that resounds unshakeably in today's always-filming times. Nope is a pics-or-it-didn't-happen flick, too, and explores the price that people are willing to pay to keep getting those images. Perfect shots and the industry that relies upon them aren't without their cost, Peele posits — while also filling his frames with a sublimely surreal sci-fi-western vision lensed with rich detail by Hoyte Van Hoytema, Christopher Nolan's recent cinematographer (see: Tenet, Dunkirk and Interstellar). A movie can call attention to cinema's usually ignored ills and equally demand the utmost attention to its stunning array of sights, of course, and Nope is one such feature. Its sound design and score, courtesy of Johnnie Burn (Ammonite) and Michael Abels (Us, Get Out) respectively, are also both staggering and loaded, finding the ideal balance between haunting quiet and symphonic screaming. Nope is many things. It's a reminder that Hollywood's historical approach to race — its blatant lack of diversity, and its willingness to erase the contributions of people of colour, to be accurate — has proven a monstrosity as well. It's an examination of the power of images, for better and for worse. It sees the dark side of courting celebrity as a supposed way of improving our lots in life. Nope takes Peele's The Twilight Zone fascination, after reviving and hosting the 2019–20 version, to its next level. It's also a cowboys-and-aliens flick, and it's as dazzling as a blockbuster that blends science fiction, western, comedy and horror can be. Nope is frequently a daylight nightmare, boasts this year's second-best use of the wide blue yonder after Top Gun: Maverick, and is so terrifying in one barn-set scene that chills follow. Throw in that exceptional cast, including the pitch-perfect chalk-and-cheese double act that springs from Kaluuya's subtlety and Palmer's energy, and it's a downright marvel, as well as another Peele winner. The yeps keep coming — and yep, you'll never look at the clouds the same way afterwards.
UPDATE, September 19, 2020: RBG is available to stream via DocPlay, Google Play, YouTube Movies and iTunes. It's hard to pick just which moment is more endearing: seeing US Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg lifting weights in the gym wearing a 'super diva!' jumper, or seeing women six decades her junior plaster her glasses-rimmed face across their t-shirts, bags and even skin. Actually, RBG is filled with scenes that top both. Whenever the octogenarian is spied doing what she does best — fighting for women's rights and progressive ideals, first as a lawyer and then as a judge — this documentary lights up. Still, if there's anything that beats just simply witnessing Ginsburg in action, it's watching as she howls with laughter after seeing Kate McKinnon's Saturday Night Live impersonation of her for the first time. That's the kind of film that RBG is — jam-packed with segments that equally inform and entertain, well aware of what Ginsburg stands for, and unashamedly celebratory about her impact and achievements. Co-directors Julie Cohen and Betsy West had each separately interviewed the justice previously, and felt that the time was right for a documentary paying tribute to her life's work. They couldn't have been more accurate, astute or ahead of the curve. Consider the end result not just an ode to an American icon, but a reminder that change is possible, that battling for it is worthwhile, and that both remain the case in today's fraught and fractured US political climate. If you've missed the Notorious RBG memes, the aforementioned SNL skits, and both the praise and vitriol slung Ginsburg's way (including some of the latter from America's tweeter-in-chief), don't worry. RBG fills in the gaps, and doesn't assume that viewers have an intricate knowledge of the US judicial system or the movie's central figure. Rather, it tackles Ginsburg's tale from two angles. As a birth-to-present day chronicle, the film steps through her childhood and her opposites-attract college romance with husband Marty, as well as her determination to juggle law school with motherhood and everything that has come since. As an exploration of her specific legal influence, it delves into several cases in detail, focusing on those that she argued in front of the Supreme Court prior to joining its ranks. Ginsburg's biography, her legal contribution and each of the individual cases featured could easily furnish their own documentaries, but Cohen and West know how to balance these various components. More than that, they know how to insert Ginsburg's personality into the film, and shape it with her drive and spirit. Given that the justice is known for being reserved and serious (when she's not living her lifelong dream of starring in an opera), that might sound easier said than done. But there's humour, heart and a big helping of grit to this highly accessible movie, even when it's largely assembled through talking heads, archival footage and snippets of Ginsburg's recent speaking appearances. Indeed, RBG mimics its eponymous figure in several ways. Like the justice, it's small, smart and striving; thorough and proficient; and eager to make the world a better place than it currently is. The documentary is also a testament to something that isn't always championed quite so enthusiastically: simply working hard, getting things done and not worrying about any fanfare. With the #MeToo movement and the current recognition that gender equality is in a much worse state than it should be, the film couldn't come at a better moment, but capitalising upon the present mood is purely a stroke of good fortune. While Cohen and West knew Ginsburg was gaining a cult following when they first conceived of their project five years ago, they couldn't foresee they world they'd release their film into. Doing what's necessary and right just because there's a need for it — well, that couldn't be a more Ginsburg-esque move. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2TnaEg91qIA
Fiftysomethings Nick (Jim Broadbent) and Meg (Lindsay Duncan) are in a rut. He has just been terminated from his job as an academic after making an inappropriate comment to a female student. His wife, a biology teacher, is going through her own career issues. More importantly, their marriage is fraying at the seams. As a way of reviving their flagging relationship, they take off to Paris for a break, returning to the city where they honeymooned many years before. They initially arrive at a hostel which they had stayed at years ago, but Meg turns up her nose at the Spartan accommodation and they up sticks to a more glamorous hotel, where they are offered a beautiful penthouse where Tony Blair once stayed. Meg is overjoyed. Nick is less sure. "As long as you change the sheets first," he snips. Gradually, they begin to explore their new surrounds and are by turns charmed by the fabled city and agitated by old resentments and simmering tensions which have built up in their relationship. The two-hander expands when they run into Morgan (a terrific Jeff Goldblum), a slick but somewhat glib academic and author who was something of a mentee of Nick's, but who has gone on to enjoy mainstream success which eluded his older colleague. He shoehorns them into attending a dinner party with his coterie of cosmopolitan pals, a development which intrigues the vivacious Meg but leaves the anxious Nick more perturbed than ever. Le Week-End feels more like a snapshot in time than a traditional three-act story, as long-held frustrations wane as they wander through the city. The couple sense that they may have stayed together out of routine and fear of being alone rather than any great attachment. With their children having finally moved out of home, what, if anything, will keep them together? Nick suggests that he needs Meg, is hopeless without her. She wonders if a childlike dependence is a healthy basis for their ongoing relationship. Le Week-End is set in the world's most romantic city and was directed by Roger Michell of Notting Hill fame, but this is no Hollywood confection. Instead, it has a messiness, looseness and a real honesty. Paris often looks more tired than idealised. While not as flat-out brilliant as Richard Linklater's Before Sunrise trilogy, those films seem an obvious touchstone in their improvised-feeling dialogue and clear-eyed focus on the tribulations of long-term relationships. Broadbent and Duncan are tremendous as Nick and Meg, characters who are contradictory, vulnerable and at times, frankly irritating. It's rare to see older actors on screen who aren't supporting figures or comic relief, but real, flawed people. https://youtube.com/watch?v=t0jzTSKr3VY
It's wise to approach modern French comedies with a sense of caution. Given legendary director Francis Veber (The Dinner Game, The Valet) sadly doesn't appear to be working on anything new, the majority of recent French comedic releases in Australia have been the likes of last year's interminable Le Chef, misfire Paris-Manhattan and the recent laugh-free Fly Me to the Moon. It's with utmost trepidation that I approach anything with the words 'comedy' and 'French' in the description. The Gilded Cage may not 'break' the curse as such, but it sure bends it. It follows a Portuguese family that has been living in France for the past 30 years, dreaming of one day returning to their home. The patriarch, José (Joaquim de Almeida) is a respected foreman for a construction company, and the matriarch Maria (Rita Blanco) is the concierge for a building of upper-class toffs. Both José and Maria have a reputation for being the most accommodating people, so willing to help others out that their friends and children suggest they are being taken advantage of. When José’s estranged brother dies, the family is given a will promising them a large property in Portugal, along with a healthy income from the deceased brother’s business. It’s too good to be true, but before they can make plans, the word gets out. Everyone discovers the nicest family in Paris is about to leave and embarks on a ridiculous series of lies and manipulations to keep them in their lives. Most of the gags aren’t necessarily laugh-out-loud, but it's at least amusing even when it’s not being hilarious. It’s not the most inspiring of distinctions, but given the recent state of French comedies, “amusing” is more than welcome. It’s interesting watching it with an Australian audience, because many of the jokes hinge on the difference between the French and Portuguese languages, and although some of the jokes hit, others only really make sense if you actually speak at least one of the languages. And ending the film on a gag that requires an in-depth knowledge of celebrity Portuguese soccer players probably isn’t the best way to ensure international crossover appeal. On the other hand, Dodgeball was filled with Lance Armstrong jokes (now largely outdated), and no prizes for guessing which is the more popular sport across the globe. Still, for all the odd cultural references, the film is charming and feelgood and pretty funny. If you’ve been burned by bad French comedies in recent times, this should certainly help mend those wounds.
It's been a rocky few years for Jamie's Italian in Australia, having relaunched with full ownership in 2017 only to lose ownership again just one year later. Luckily, the Brisbane-based Hallmark Group took over the management of the Australian restaurants, but not without some casualties — the Canberra and Parramatta outposts (the latter of which is set to become a steakhouse) quickly closed. But now, perhaps in an attempt to help us put our faith back in the brand, Jamie's Italian venues across Australia will launch a series of bottomless prosecco lunches for a very reasonable $50 per person. The one-month deal will run every Saturday from September 8 through to October 7 — and it includes a lot more than just an endless supply of sparkling wine. Each table will be served small bites to share (including those crispy polenta chips), and everyone will get a big bowl of pasta. You'll be be able to choose which one you want, too — think classics like prawn linguine and carbonara, and signatures including the truffle tagliatelle and fresh crab spaghetti. Plus, it'll all be topped off with panna cotta for dessert. If we know anything, it's that people really love Jamie's Italian. As such, these lunches are sure book out fast, so front a pineapple and book it already. The bottomless prosecco lunches will be available at Jamie's Italian Brisbane, Sydney, Adelaide and Perth. They'll run each Saturday from from 12–4pm from September 8 until October 7. You can book here.
UPDATE, October 19, 2022: The Stranger released in Australian cinemas on October 6, then streams via Netflix from October 19. No emotion or sensation ripples through two or more people in the exact same way, and never will. The Stranger has much to convey, but it expresses that truth with piercing precision. The crime-thriller is the sophomore feature from actor-turned-filmmaker Thomas M Wright — following 2018's stunning Adam Cullen biopic Acute Misfortune, another movie that shook everyone who watched it and proved hard to shake — and it's as deep, disquieting and resonant a dance with intensity as its genre can deliver. To look into Joel Edgerton's (Thirteen Lives) eyes as Mark, an undercover cop with a traumatic but pivotal assignment, is to spy torment and duty colliding. To peer at Sean Harris (Spencer) as the slippery Henry Teague is to see a cold, chilling and complex brand of shiftiness. Sitting behind these two performances in screentime but not impact is Jada Alberts' (Mystery Road) efforts as dedicated, determined and drained detective Kate Rylett — and it may be the portrayal that sums up The Stranger best. Writing as well as directing, Wright has made a film that is indeed dedicated, determined and draining. At every moment, including in sweeping yet shadowy imagery and an on-edge score, those feelings radiate from the screen as they do from Alberts. Sharing the latter's emotional exhaustion comes with the territory; sharing their sense of purpose does as well. In the quest to capture a man who abducted and murdered a child, Rylett can't escape the case's horrors — and, although the specific details aren't used, there's been no evading the reality driving this feature. The Stranger doesn't depict the crime that sparked Kate Kyriacou's non-fiction book The Sting: The Undercover Operation That Caught Daniel Morcombe's Killer, or any violence. It doesn't use the Queensland schoolboy's name, or have actors portray him or his family. This was always going to be an inherently discomforting and distressing movie, though, but it's also an unwaveringly intelligent and impressive examination of trauma. There's no other word to describe what Mark and Rylett experience — and, especially as it delves into Mark's psychological state as he juggles his job with being a single father, The Stranger is a film about tolls. What echoes do investigating and seeking justice for an atrocious act leave? Here, the portrait is understandably bleak and anguished. What imprint do such incidences have upon society more broadly? That also falls into the movie's examination. Mark, along with a sizeable group of fellow officers, is trying to get a confession and make an arrest. Back east, Rylett is one of the police who won't and can't let the situation go. Doling out its narrative in a structurally ambitious way, The Stranger doesn't directly address the human need for resolution, or to restore a semblance of order and security after something so heinously shocking, but that's always baked into its frames anyway. Travelling across the country, Henry first meets a stranger on a bus, getting chatting to Paul (Steve Mouzakis, Clickbait) en route. It's the possibility of work that hooks the ex-con and drifter — perhaps more so knowing that his potential new gig will be highly illicit, and that evading the authorities is implicit. Soon he meets Mark, then seizes the opportunity to reinvent himself in a criminal organisation, not knowing that he's actually palling around with the cops. It's an immense sting, fictionalised but drawn from actuality, with The Stranger also playing as a procedural. The connecting the dots-style moves remain with Rylett, but Wright's decision to hone in on the police operation still means detailing how to catch a killer, astutely laying out the minutiae via action rather than chatting through the bulk of the ins and outs. When Wright made his initial leap behind the camera after almost two decades on-screen — an acting resume that spans a range of weighty fare, such as Van Diemen's Land, Balibo, Top of the Lake, The Bridge and Sweet Country — he spun a tale of two men connecting, entangling and grappling with hard truths. Acute Misfortune and The Stranger are immensely different movies in a plethora of ways, even if both do find their basis in IRL situations, but there's no missing their common central dynamic. While The Stranger wouldn't be the film it is without its time with Rylett, and with the phenomenal Alberts in that key role, the interplay between Mark and Henry retains its core focus. To be accurate, Mark sits squarest in its spotlight — including surveying the anxiety he feels as a single father tasked with such a case, which plays out in striking domestic and dream sequences — but it isn't a coincidence that Edgerton and Harris are styled to visibly resemble each other. Also never an accident: that The Stranger's male leads turn in transfixing performances, whether guiding the film's viewers through Mark's waking ordeal and literal nightmares, or showing their cause. This is Edgerton and Harris' third project together in mere years, after The King and The Green Knight — but if it wasn't, it'd be clear why both Wright and Edgerton (who produces and optioned the rights to The Sting to begin with) opted for the pairing. The Stranger sears not just with intensity but tension, so much of which jitters whenever the two men share the frame. A blazing car fire aside, the largely muted colours lensed by cinematographer Sam Chiplin (Penguin Bloom) add to the brooding, primal, dread-filled mood. The nervy soundscape by composer and cellist Oliver Coates (Aftersun, and also a Radiohead collaborator) does the same. But The Stranger's faces and bodies, as haunted and unbalanced as they always are, say — and silently scream — everything. Wright wants his audience to observe carefully, and to listen. The feature's sound design toys with this very idea; when a drive with Mark and Henry switches its dialogue to surveillance audio, it's such a straightforward choice, and yet its execution is layered, smart and immensely powerful. There's no such thing as passively and easily viewing The Stranger, it tells us, as does describing calming breathing techniques in its opening moments. Engaging with this movie has to be an active and complicated feat because engaging with the darkness it explores always is. Who retells grim chapters of history, and why and how, aren't questions isolated to Australian cinema, especially with true crime a perennially popular genre on screens large and small — and pages and podcasts, and wherever and however else such tales are told — and with The Stranger, they've surfaced again just a year after bubbling up around Justin Kurzel's Nitram. Like that, this equally exceptional and unsettling film makes plain that interrogating events like these is crucial. Here, it's also transformative for those doing the probing, the world they inhabit and those watching.
At almost three hours long, Peter Jackson's The Hobbit is the perfect film for those who find the cracking pace of the Boxing Day test a little too hectic. Taking place some 60 years before the events of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, it chronicles the adventures of the young hobbit Bilbo Baggins (Martin Freeman), who's recruited by the wizard Gandalf (Sir Ian McKellan) to help a gang of rowdy dwarves reclaim their mountain home. The whole film has a much lighter feel to it than the trilogy, with the first 45 minutes in particular veering awfully close to 'kids movie', and no matter how stunning the visuals (they really are breathtaking), it's difficult to escape the sense that we've all 'been here, done that' before. On the plus side, there is a pleasant familiarity to the Shire, and as we walk back through Bilbo’s house alongside Gandalf, it does feel a touch like revisiting old friends whom we've dearly missed. One notable distinction to the 'samey' vibe of The Hobbit, however, is the way it was filmed. There are, in fact, three different viewing options available to audiences: normal 2D, 3D or HFR 3D (High Frame Rate), and it's that last one that's garnering all the attention, both good and bad. At 48 frames per second, HFR is twice the rate of conventional cinema, making the on-screen action extraordinarily smooth and adding remarkable definition to every detail, especially in 3D. The technique delivers an incredibly immersive experience within the world of Middle Earth, particularly in the more elaborate kingdoms and set pieces like the dwarf realm and the trolls' cave. However, and that's a BIG 'however', HFR is far from perfect. More specifically, it's terrible. Somehow with the exception of the vistas mentioned above, every other aspect of the film is severely let down by the enhanced clarity of the device. The lighting looks amateurish, the action almost appears sped up, the make-up and costumes look like make-up and costumes, and — overall — the whole piece more closely resembles a behind-the-scenes DVD extra rather than 'the most anticipated movie event of 2012'. Take nothing away from Jackson for pushing new boundaries and offering some of the most stunning 3D footage ever seen, but it's an experiment best left unrepeated. Jackson's also been criticised for his decision to split the story into three parts; a seemingly commercial extravagance that may test the patience of even the most die-hard fans. That said, Tolkien's (and Jackson's) ability to enrapture one's imagination and tell compelling human tales in a most-inhuman world cannot be overstated, and coupled with the sumptuous cinematography and cutting-edge special effects, The Hobbit remains a worthwhile Boxing Day treat despite its shortcomings.
If The Phantom of the Open was part of a game of golf, rather than a movie about the club-flinging, ball-hitting, bunker-avoiding sport, it wouldn't be a hole in one. It couldn't be; perfection doesn't suit the story it's telling, which is as real and as shaggy — as so-strange-it-can-only-be-true, too — as they can possibly come. That other key factor in spiriting dimpled orbs from the tee to the cup in a single stroke, aka luck, is definitely pertinent to this feel-good, crowd-pleasing, happily whimsical British comedy, however. Plenty of it helped Maurice Flitcroft, the man at its centre, as he managed to enter the 1976 British Open despite never having set foot on a course or played a full round of golf before. It isn't quite good fortune that makes this high-spirited movie about him work, of course, but it always feels like a feature that might've ended up in the cinematic long grass if it wasn't so warmly pieced together. When Maurice (Mark Rylance, Don't Look Up) debuts on the green at the high-profile Open Championship, it doesn't take long for gap between his skills and the professionals he's playing with to stand out. In the words of The Dude from The Big Lebowski, obviously he's not a golfer — although what makes a golfer, and whether any sport should be the domain of well-to-do gatekeepers who reserve large swathes of land for the use of the privileged few, falls into The Phantom of the Open's view. So does a breezily formulaic yet drawn-from-fact account of a man who was born in Manchester, later settled in the port town of Barrow-in-Furness in Cumbria and spent much of his life as a shipyard crane operator, providing for his wife Jean (Sally Hawkins, Spencer), her son Michael (Jake Davies, Artemis Fowl), and the pair's twins Gene (Christian Lees, Pistol) and James (Jonah Lees, The Letter for the King). Maurice had never chased his own dreams, until he decided to give golfing glory a swing. For audiences coming to all this anew, director Craig Roberts (Eternal Beauty) clues viewers in from the get-go, via a recreation of an 80s TV interview with Maurice. The film's key figure chats, looking back on his sporting efforts after his attempts at golf have clearly earned him a level of fame, but he'd also rather just sip a tea with six sugars. That's an easy but pivotal character-establishing moment. He's a cuppa-coveting everyman accustomed to finding sweetness in modest places, which aptly sums up his whole approach to his middle-aged pastime. The jovial humour of the situation — in caring more about his beloved tea than talking on the television — is also telling. Using a screenplay by Simon Farnaby (Paddington 2) based on the actor and writer's 2010 biography of Maurice, Roberts laughs along with and never at his protagonist. He affectionately sees the wannabe golfer's eccentricities, and also values the new lease on life he's eagerly seeking. That quest starts while watching late-night TV, after Michael advises that the shipyard where both men work — and Jean as well — will be making layoffs. With Bridge of Spies Oscar-winner Rylance dripping with sincerity and never cartoonish quirkiness, Maurice eyes the game on-screen like a man having a life-altering and surreal epiphany. Befitting anyone who's ever had a sudden realisation, he's instantly convinced. That he has zero know-how, nor the cash for the right attire, equipment and membership to the local club to practice, doesn't put him off. Neither does filling out the Open entry form, where he instructs Jean to tick the 'professional' box because that's what he wants to be. On the ground at Royal Birkdale Golf Club in Southport, he swiftly attracts attention for hitting 121 — the worst score ever recorded — with the press, as well as tournament bigwigs Keith Mackenzie (Rhys Ifans, The King's Man) and Laurent Lambert (Farnaby, Christopher Robin). "The world's worst professional golfer" gets slung Maurice's way, alongside other descriptions and titles, the movie's own moniker included. But with the competitive disco-dancing twins as his caddies, he isn't dissuaded. As seen in fellow recent comedy The Duke — another seemingly tall but genuinely true tale about an ordinary fellow battling the establishment — The Phantom of the Open becomes a caper, in fact. Maurice makes new putts at re-entering the Open aided by disguises and accents, hijinks ensue again and again, and his determination to strive for something better rarely fades. There isn't much in the way of drama amid the on-the-course larks, but some springs at home. While Jean remains supportive, as do Gene and James, Michael gets embarrassed about his dad being made a joke — and there are also financial ramifications. As with The Full Monty, Eddie the Eagle and other thoroughly British underdog-focused stories, The Phantom of the Open earns all the terms it's striving for: nice, perky, funny, pleasant, sweet, moving and rousing, for starters. Another two that echo like a ball whacked convincingly with a club: entertaining and engaging. Roberts and Farnaby find the right mood, which recognises how ridiculous so many of the details prove — they'd be called contrived if a screenwriter had simply conjured them up — but keeps its heart with the Flitcrofts. Taking tonal cues from his best-known on-screen appearances in 2010's coming-of-age charmer Submarine and delightful streaming series Red Oaks, Roberts also appreciates how embracing a look, feel and era can shape a movie. The Phantom of the Open sees Maurice's efforts as firmly a product of the 70s, and plays up the period details everywhere it can, including on the soundtrack. A singular real-life character, a wild series of actual events, ABBA and other upbeat needle-drops, disco contests, 70s oddities galore, all that golf, a cartful of fantastical visual flourishes, slapstick upon slapstick: throw them all together and, again, the movie equivalent of a sand trap or water hazard could've resulted. Thankfully, Roberts knows how to mould all these pieces into something affable — albeit not particularly concerned with digging too deep, let alone needing a sand wedge — and also enlists the stellar Rylance. Even when The Phantom of the Open is at its silliest, he gives an earnest and charismatic performance that can last 18 holes, no matter how many triple bogeys and worse that Maurice hits. Crucially, he plays the prankster and dreamer as someone who knows to keep tap, tap, tapping even when stuck. A narrative like this always going to draw people in, of course, as gumption-fuelled against-the-odds tales tend to, but it wouldn't keep them cheering along without Rylance's both believable and endearing stint in the argyle vest.
There’s nothing the Oscars love more than an inspiring true story. Every year in the lead-up to Hollywood’s most self-congratulatory night, our theatres with filled with biographical dramas: handsome, well-acted and totally inoffensive. This year’s crop includes The Imitation Game, American Sniper and The Theory of Everything, all of which attempt to rouse us with their stories of courage in the face of adversity. And yes, sure, their protagonists are all white guys. But hey, at least Alan Turing was gay. Also on the list of this year’s would-be contenders is Unbroken, the sophomore directorial effort from one Angelina Jolie. The film is a wartime biopic (of course) about Olympic marathon runner and WWII bombardier Louie Zamperini, whose B-24 aircraft crashed down in the North Pacific and who spent the last two years of the conflict as a prisoner of war in Japan. The film is based on Laura Hillenbrand’s book Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience and Redemption. With a title like that, it’s hardly surprising that the story leans towards hero worship. As depicted by Jolie and actor Jack O’Connell, Zamperini is less a man as he is a pillar of bravery and virtue; a genetically engineered combination of Jesse Owens and Captain America. Flashbacks to before the war come complete with stock-standard motivational quotes. “A moment of pain,” we’re told, “is worth a lifetime of glory.” I’m not trying to diminish Zamperini’s sacrifice. But while he may have been a hero, he’s not an interesting protagonist. Tales of wartime valour have been done to death, and frankly Unbroken brings nothing new to the table. Jolie portrays America’s enemies with about as much dimension as the Nazis in Hogan’s Heroes, although admittedly they’re not nearly as funny. The only Japanese character they bother naming is the sadistic Corporal Watanabe (played by musician Miyavi), whose cartoonish villainy prevents any exploration of the psychology behind wartime abuse. And yes, atrocities were committed in POW camps, and it’s important that we continue to remember that. At the same time, this story has already been covered. Instead, why not make a movie about the 100,000 Japanese Americans forced into prison camps by President Roosevelt? Where’s the film about the moral quandary behind dropping the atomic bomb? Hell, what about telling the story of Zamperini’s life after the war, when post-traumatic stress disorder drove him to alcoholism until he became a born-again motivation speaker? Those would be interesting stories. But I guess they’re not to Oscar’s tastes. Unbroken is by no means a terrible film. Jolie is a solid director, her cast does good work and the narrative – shallow and conventional as it is – isn’t necessarily unengaging. It is, however, disappointingly safe; the sort of adequate time killer you won’t necessarily regret seeing, assuming you remember seeing it at all.
Printed on a piece of card and stuffed in many a letterbox, "sorry we missed you" ranks among the most frustrating phrases in the English language. If you're expecting a delivery, it means that you'll need to contact the courier company, book in another day and spend more time waiting, which is never convenient. But for those who dedicate their hours to transporting parcels around town, those four words can also indicate something far worse. To some employers, it can mean that they haven't done their job — and that has far-reaching consequences. Continuing his career-long examination of Britain's working class, Ken Loach's latest social-realist drama steps into this world, and into the punishing expectations that have become normalised in today's gig economy. Everyone has been annoyed about a delayed delivery, but the reality for overstretched couriers saddled with too many parcels, too little time, nowhere near enough pay and restrictive working conditions is much more bleak than simply having to wait an extra day for your latest online purchase. Sorry We Missed You focuses on Ricky Turner (Kris Hitchen), who's new to the courier business; however it could've just as easily followed his path through plenty of other industries. Loach and his regular screenwriter Paul Laverty have chosen wisely, though, picking a field that everyone has had an experience with (even if only on the consumer side). Still, the same principles apply to many service-oriented professions these days — insecure work, no guaranteed hours, round-the-clock demands and an all-round arrangement that puts employers at an enormous advantage to the contractor's detriment. Ricky's wife Abbie (Debbie Honeywood), a nurse and in-home carer, also navigates a similar system. That we live in a world where meeting set targets and sticking to arbitrary timeframes is more important than giving proper medical care sounds like something out of a grim dystopian future, but Sorry We Missed You isn't exaggerating. After losing not only his construction job in the 2008 financial crash, but his chance to buy a house, Ricky gets into courier work as a last resort. Debts are piling up, he wants security for his family's future and there are no other options. On paper, it seems ideal and even easy. Convincing Abbie to sell her car, he uses to money to purchase a van and starts contracting for a big company. Then, under hard-nosed manager Maloney (Ross Brewster), he discovers how the gig operates. He's soon working seven days a week, getting sanctioned when he can't meet KPIs and resorting to peeing in bottles because he doesn't have time for a toilet break. He's also vulnerable to robberies and financially responsible for the cargo he's delivering. And taking any time off — when he's injured, when the equally overworked and exhausted Abbie needs help, and when their adolescent son Seb (Rhys Stone) gets in trouble with the law — comes with severe monetary penalties. Some days, he even takes his pre-teen daughter Liza Jane (Katie Proctor) with him just so he can see her, although that's also frowned upon. Across his more than 50 years behind the lens, Loach has always been drawn to these types of scenarios. His films are fictional, but they're steeped in actuality. That proved true in 1969's Kes, which relayed the story of a downtrodden Yorkshire boy's life-changing friendship with a kestrel, and just might be the finest British movie ever made. It was also true in I, Daniel Blake, his 2016 Palme d'Or-winning drama about government benefits that's a clear companion piece to Sorry We Missed You. That these tales keep needing to be told is heartbreaking and infuriating, of course — but there's no one better at it than Loach. He's an empathetic and humane filmmaker determined to give a voice to ordinary folks, to tackle everyday issues and to show life as it really is. He's also just as passionate about calling out vast societal inequities that, as seen in the Turners' experiences, exploit the masses for corporate gain. As is his trademark, Loach brings all of the above to the screen with a keenly naturalistic eye and a largely non-professional cast, shooting his characters and their lives as though he's recording reality. There's no one better than cinematographer Robbie Ryan to help — the man who not only achieved the same feat on I, Daniel Blake, but on Andrea Arnold's American Honey and Noah Baumbach's Marriage Story as well. Under the duo's combined gaze, Sorry We Missed You's images speak a thousand frustrating words, and draw audiences into the film's despairing situation. The feature stares daggers at a system the world has simply accepted, too, and forces audiences to see how it affects average people. And, while the movie's message isn't subtle, this is still a nuanced and astute picture that's exactly as stirring and galvanising at it needs to be. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_sdnSZ6J6HA
The phrase 'sleeper hit' was coined for movies like Silver Linings Playbook. It looks like your run-of-the-mill wacky family holiday movie, but it's an important film and a great one that deserves to sweep the Academy, SAG and copious other awards it's nominated for. Because while Silver Linings Playbook obeys the conventions of a crazy family comedy — hilarity, personalities clashing under one roof, people yelling over the top of each other, the gradual acceptance of family legacies — it really hones in on the 'crazy' part. In films, craziness usually peaks at extreme quirkiness. But in our real-life households we know the source of irrational behaviour often lies with mental illness, and that's much more complex. Based on the novel by Matthew Quick, Silver Linings Playbook acknowledges and honours this common human experience with its story of Pat (Bradley Cooper), a bipolar former history teacher returning to the house of his mother (Australia's inimitable Jacki Weaver) and father (Robert De Niro) after a court-mandated nine months in a mental health facility. He remains fixated on his estranged wife, Nikki (Brea Bee), even though she has a restraining order against him, and he feels his new positive philosophy is the way to win her back. What he's not sure is help or hindrance, however, is the appearance in his life of recent widow Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence), whose existing depression has been wildly exacerbated by her husband's death. These are not characters we've seen on screen before, and they're extraordinarily well drawn. The film positions you in Pat's corner, to the point where you can fully understand his not-always-logical way of thinking and not only sympathise but make the leap with him. To outsiders, he's unreliable, tactless, and even violent, but to viewers, he's just Pat. Silver Linings Playbook is technically excellent, with charming performances and firm plotting, but there are a lot of technically excellent movies. It's rare to see one that will mean so much to so many people. Director David O. Russell has spoken about how important making the film was to him as the parent of a child with mental illness. He didn't want his film to be all doom and gloom; he wanted it to be full of hope, humour, and compassion, as even burdened lives are. His connection to the subject shines through to create a special and authentic-feeling film. Perhaps most vitally, Silver Linings Playbook isn't about sectioning off people's experiences via a medical label; it incorporates the full spectrum of what Pat calls the "craziness within myself and everybody else", and nearly everyone is likely to see something within it that resonates. It may be January, but this is certainly one of my films of the year. https://youtube.com/watch?v=2MP7A1k8Jr0
Andy Warhol, Marilyn Monroe, The Mighty Boosh, Frida Kahlo: they're just some of the faces that've graced exhibitions around Australia in 2023. The next to join them is Amy Winehouse, in a showcase that's doing what documentary Amy also dedicated some of its frames to: stepping back a couple of decades to the beginning of the 'Back to Black' and 'Rehab' singer's career. When Winehouse was 19, photographer Charles Moriarty was requested by a friend to take some snaps of the then-unknown talent. They're the images that Amy, Before Frank will display. More than 30 will feature — and if you're wondering where the exhibition's name comes from, it references Winehouse's debut album Frank, with the photos covered hailing from before that record dropped. When Winehouse was in front of his lens, Irish photographer Moriarty didn't know what'd follow for the performer — the fame and success, nor her passing in 2011. The session clearly worked out well because Moriarty also shot the cover art for Frank, and became friends with the singer. To check out Amy, Before Frank, fans will need to head to Sydney's M2 Gallery from Wednesday, October 18–Sunday, October 22. That timing couldn't be more perfect, given that Frank — which includes the singles 'Stronger Than Me', 'Take the Box' and 'In My Bed' — released two decades ago in October. Moriarty is also coming to Australia with the exhibition, chatting in Sydney on Saturday, October 21. [caption id="attachment_917853" align="alignnone" width="1920"] The original photograph used for Amy Winehouse's debut album 'Frank', shot on Princelet St, London, 2003[/caption] Images: Charles Moriarty.
Wollongong will be rocking its smaller-than-Sydney vibes in a big way when the Yours & Owls music festival takes over Stuart Park for another year on October 5 and 6. This intimate two-day festival is known for its impressive lineup combining local Aussie talent and handpicked international bands in a weekend that rivals any capital city shindig. Though the festival is still in its infancy, Yours & Owls continues to pull some big names — the 2019 festival will be headlined by Amy Shark, Golden Features and Courtney Barnett. The rest of the lineup reads like a roll-call of Triple J up-and-comers, with Meg Mac, Skeggs, Angie McMahon and Baker Boy all on there. Tickets have already gone on sale, so get in quick to snag your ticket — camping is available too if you're wanting to get the best out of the beach and the festival, three-day passes are available on the Yours and Owls website. YOURS AND OWLS 2019 LINEUP Amy Shark Courtney Barnett Golden Features Hot Dub Time Machine Angie McMahon Love Fame Tragedy Meg Mac Odette Ruel Skegss Slumberjack Sneaky Sound System Thudamentals Vera Blue Bad//Dreams Baker Boy Bass Drums Of Death Eves Karydas Frenzal Rhomb Fucked Up Kira Puru Kwame No Mono Waax Yumi Zouma The Beths Blank Realm Ceres The Delta Riggs DIE! DIE! DIE! Genesis Owusu Gooch Palms Hatchie Ocean Grove Totally Unicorn West Thebarton A. Swayze & The Ghosts Bugs Crocodylus Eliza And The Delusionals Georgia June The Lazy Susans Low Life Murmurmur The Nights Pacific Avenue San Mei Burn In Hell Dribs Ducey Muncs Fait Accompli Fika Friday Park Hope Town Husband Wants A Wife Ivori Legal Aliens Lemon Row Orange Passiona Rukus Sam Allen Tapestry Tex The Bungalows The Fangin' Felines The Hints Tuff Mustard Underlay 99 Scapegoats
True crime and Cluedo collide with the launch of CluedUpp in Australia. The interactive detective game is coming to Sydney on Saturday, November 23, and brings the classic board game to life on the streets of the city — with a slight twist. The outdoor adventure will take you back to 1960s London to solve the double murder of the famous Kray twins. While the Kray twins were very real, very notorious British gangsters, they were not murdered IRL, just in this murder mystery. Forget Colonel Mustard with the candlestick in the study, this event will bring you and your friends closer to reality and out onto the streets to solve the case. The game will kick off at a secret Sydney location at 10am and, depending how good of a detective you are, will finish between midday and 2pm. The best news of all, however, is that the event is dog friendly — and there are prizes to be won by both human and canine detectives. All you need to play is some friends and your phone. Dressing up as 1960s gangsters is encouraged, so you can really get yourself into character. A ticket will set you back $65 per team of six, but you only need two humans to play. With only 100 teams available, get in quick for your chance to solve the mystery.
Pull out your loose change stash and check under the couch, because one of the best food deals we've seen in a while is coming back The Rocks next week. For one day only, The Argyle is slinging dumplings for just ten cents a piece. Head on in from 11am on Tuesday, July 23 and bring your appetite — and all the silver coins you can find. Expect a dim sum feast of gyoza, har gow and shumai on offer, with prawn, vegetable and pork varieties up for grabs. There is one catch — punters must purchase a full-price drink to access the ten-cent dumpling extravaganza. The deal is available from 11am until sold out and bookings are essential — so head here before all the tables for next week are snatched up. If you miss out this round, you can still nab $1 dumplings (and $5 Asahi) at the venue every Tuesday — though the deal isn't nearly as appealing once you've considered the ten-cent version.
Lights-out, judgement-free dance party No Lights No Lycra is turning ten this month and celebrating with its biggest bash yet. What started out as a low key Melbourne dance sesh has become a worldwide phenomenon — and, a decade on, its still as popular as ever. The birthday festivities will span eight cities across Australia, including right here in Sydney. And it's absolutely free. The party will take over the St Stephen's Main Hall in Newtown on Saturday, July 27 from 7–8pm. Expect one full hour of eat-your-heart out dancing to go down. And, when all that grooving in the dark makes you hungry, there will be plenty of free eats to snack on. Birthday giveaways are on the docket, too. All fitness levels are welcome, whether you move like a pro or like you have two left feet. So go on, get loose and really dance like no one is watching. While tickets are free, you will need to register.
To celebrate National Lamington Day — a very important date to diarise on Saturday, July 21 — Peter Gilmore's stunning fine diner Bennelong will hold a lamington drive for a good cause. Taking inspiration from the school canteen drives of your childhood, Gilmore will show off his take on the humble Australian sweet by serving them up in droves — with all proceeds from lamingtons sold on the day going to suicide prevention charity, R U OK?. And this take on the lammy is anything but humble. It's a proud square of cherry jam, coconut ice-cream and sponge encased in chocolate ganache and sitting in a bed of coconut milk parfait shavings. The dessert is also well-known to Sydneysiders and MasterChef fans alike, as it appeared on the television show and we learnt that it takes 49 steps to make. Available to diners in the main restaurant and at the Cured & Cultured and Bennelong bars, the lammy will be available at lunch from midday and throughout the afternoon (until sold out). Last year, the drive raised over $6000. If you've been wanting an excuse to try the famed lamington — or just dine inside the stunning Opera House restaurant — this is a great one. Bennelong's lamington drive runs from midday until sold out. Image: Nikki To
In summer, a refreshing gin and tonic on a rooftop bar is often a weekend go-to. But bringing the heat to the classic drink this chilly season is The Rook Rooftop Bar and Restaurant, with its bottomless G&Tea parties. Located in the CBD, The Rook is helping you warm up this July and August by inviting you to perhaps the most fun tea party you'll ever attend. The shindig involves endless rounds of warm cocktails served in teapots and all fired by London's Sipsmith gin. Sip your way from the Berry Fruitea, a concoction of Sipsmith London dry gin, hibiscus berry tea, mint, grapefruit and ginger, to the Tea Time, a steamy mix of Sipsmith London dry gin, Sipsmith London cup punch, french earl grey, star anise, cinnamon and orange. A few chilled tea-inspired gin cocktails are also available. Matching your piping hot brews will be a selection of tasty plates — think chicken katsu finger sandwiches with wasabi mayonnaise and wagyu beef sliders. There'll also be wild berry cheesecake, flourless chocolate brownies and mini sweet potato pies topped with coffee cream for dessert. After a recent revamp, The Rook is looking mighty slick now too. You can expect plush new furnishings and blankets to rug up under to complement your G&Tea drinking. Kicking off on Saturday, July 13, The Rook's bottomless G&Tea parties are taking place at midday and 3pm every Saturday this winter. For just $69 a pop, you'll enjoy two hours of snacks and bottomless booziness. Bookings for The Rook's bottomless G&Tea parties are recommended and can be made here.
Just because winter is (almost) over, doesn't mean the hearty cook-ups and slow-cooked stews have to end. And some fresh kitchen gear to motivate you to cook a little more wouldn't go astray, right? Well, local cooking whizzes are in luck, because famed French cookware label Le Creuset is hosting a huge Sydney warehouse sale this September. Taking over a warehouse at Sydney Olympic Park on Saturday, September 7, it'll feature a whole heap of bargains, with up to 70 percent off across a sprawling range of high-quality stoneware, stainless steel pots, toughened non-stick pans, cast iron cookware and wine accessories. Le Creuset's colourful pieces don't usually come cheap — but they do last a lifetime — so this is an opportunity not to miss. The sale only lasts for one day, and you must book into one of the 45 minute sessions to head along. It's also a cash-free event, so be sure to bring your plastic. While the first round of tickets has sold out, another round will be released at 10am on Monday, August 19. We suggest you get in quick. Le Creuset Sydney Warehouse Sale runs from 9am–5.45pm. More tickets will be available from 10am on Monday, August 19.
Is your dad all stocked up on socks and silly gadgets? That'll make figuring out a gift for Father's Day a challenge. Luckily, Ardbeg Whisky is here to your rescue. On the Father's Day Weekend (Saturday, August 31 and Sunday, September 1), you can get the premium scotch distillery to deliver a bottle of its smoky, peaty, complex whisky directly to your dad. And it'll arrive wrapped up in a gift pack and in the company of Shortie, the Ardbeg dog. He's travelling all the way from Scotland especially to celebrate Father's Day Down Under. For $99, this (adorable) gift includes a ten-year-old bottle of Ardbeg, packaged in a collectable tin, with a personalised card from you. Shortie will be making the rounds over the weekend. Your dad will also get some play time with Shortie to see his tricks in action and take a few pics. Yep, this is for real. The only problem is Shortie can't deliver to everyone. The service will be available on a first come, first serve basis via Dan Murphy's. So, when the offer opens on Monday, August 12, you'd better be quick. Before then, you can register your interest over here.
All hail the Keanaissance — for bringing him back to our screens, and for making it acceptable to love his past hits as well. Before he was Neo and John Wick, he wasn't just one half of Bill and Ted and surfing FBI agent Johnny Utah but also a guy trying to stop the bus that couldn't slow down. We know you're a fan, and we know you've always wanted to relive the action movie magic that was Speed — so here's your chance. Step on board a vintage bus and prepare for the ride of your life. After thrilling fans and making plenty of new ones during several Brisbane Comedy Festival runs, Speed: The Movie, The Play finally brings its high-octane thrills to Sydney. It's hitting town as part of this year's Sydney Fringe Festival, and taking on passengers between Friday, September 20 and Sunday, September 29 — and this is one stint of public transport chaos you should willingly sign up for.
Our weekends never feel quite long enough. Between lazy mornings, brunch dates and endless hours binging Netflix, getting our life admin done can seem an insurmountable challenge. Who wants to spend their Sunday afternoon wandering the aisles of a grocery store? For Western Suburbs locals, Parramatta Farmers Market is here to help. Every Friday, between 7.30 am and 2.30 pm, stallholders peddling fresh produce and artisanal wares descend on Centenary Square. Stop by on your way into the office to pick up all your fresh fruit and veggies, baked goods, cheeses and spices. There are also plenty of food trucks slinging gozleme, dumplings and bratwurst if you visit during your lunch break.
The best aperitivo hour in the country is taking on a distinctly French look (and taste) for Bastille Day. On Sunday, July 14, Surry Hills' Dolphin Hotel is teaming up with super-popular CBD spot Restaurant Hubert for an afternoon of French snacks and wines — all for just $5–7 a pop. While there's no word yet on exactly what you'll be eating, Chef James MacDonald will be whipping up some opulent Hubert-esque snacks — so, expect lots of butter, some caviar or escargots, and possibly even the famed Malakoff (fried cheese) to make an appearance. If you keep an eye on The Dolphin's Instagram on Sunday, you might catch a glimpse of the final menu before it goes live. For drinks, Hubert's acclaimed sommelier Andy Tyson will be teaming up with The Dolphin's Wine Director James Hird to create a list of impressive (and very reasonably priced) French drops. To up the French vibes even further, 'The Huberts' big brass band will be in the house playing appropriately patriotic party tunes throughout the afternoon. The $5–7 snacks and glasses of wine will only be available from 5–7pm in The Dolphin's Wine Room so get there early — it will fill up. If you miss the happy hour(s), fear not — the whole venue will be getting into the spirit across the whole weekend (July 12–14) with a one-off French cocktail menu (heavy on chartreuse, calvados and pastis) upstairs at Scout and a slew of French drops available at all the bars. Prepare to be a bit dusty on Monday, folks, it's going to be a big one. Images: Elise Hassey
As far as winter comfort food goes, a big serve of rustic-style gnocchi has to be up there with the best. But, even better? A bottomless, never-ending serve of gnocchi, like the kind being served up for two Wednesdays at The Stables Restaurant. The Paddington eatery is getting right into the spirit of the chilly season, with its new Winter Wednesdays gnocchi deal, on offer from 4pm on Wednesday, July 10 and Wednesday, July 17. On these two nights, the kitchen is whipping up three styles of gnocchi and you can devour as much as your belly can handle for just $20 a head. And we think that's a pretty standout bargain. Choose from a classic pesto version, an 'nduja number and a creamy gorgonzola gnocchi, all of which probably work a treat alongside a couple of glasses of red from The Stables' impressive cellar selection. We think these two nights will fill up (like your stomach) pretty quickly, so if you're keen to head along we suggest you get there early. Images: Kimberley Low
If you want to add some social justice to your Tuesday night pub feed, head in to Paddo Inn next month. The Oxford Street venue is presenting Inn Talks, a series of expert-led panel discussions that are accompanied by wine, snacks and networking. Coming up on August 13 is a discussion on fashion sustainability and why it is so important, as well as how to be more ethically minded with your fashion choices. On the panel is fashion journalist Rosie Dalton, Vogue's sustainability editor-at-large Clare Press (and presenter of the Wardrobe Crisis podcast), award-winning sustainability fashion designer Jade Sarita Arnott (Arnsdorf) and responsible fashion strategist Melinda Tually (director of NDLESS: The New Normal). The series is being held to support Dress for Success Sydney, a not-for-profit organisation that benefits unemployed women — through donating work clothing, mentoring, job-search skills, career coaching and networking to those who need it. The event will run from 6–8.30pm and cost $55, with each ticket including canapés and a flute of Veuve Clicquot. If you miss on this round, the final discussion in the series will take place in September. Details on that one haven't been released yet, so keep an eye on this space.
The tequila is always flowing at El Camino Cantina, with the Rocks and Manly Mexican joints well-known for their margaritas. But, as anyone who loves the agave spirit knows, there's never a bad reason to keep pouring more — and International Tequila Day couldn't be a more perfect excuse. Happening on Wednesday, July 24, the celebratory date will see everyone's favourite tequila cocktail flying off the bar. When $7.50 margaritas are on the menu, that's bound to happen. Choose from the slushie or liquid form depending on your preference, and from five flavours: mango, strawberry, tropical (with Red Bull), apple and cinnamon and the regular ol' variety. Because the occasion falls on a Wednesday, you'll also be able to tuck into ten-cent wings. Even better — this is an all-day affair, so if you have time for a few drinks over lunch, or can get away from work for a chilled afternoon, then you won't go thirsty.
Everyone has had the James Bond fantasy. No, not that fantasy. We're talking about imagining you're a secret agent who thwarts global plots and has a pen that doubles as a parachute (or something). It's a job we've all wished we had — but our intelligence services never seem to be advertising vacancies. Fortunately, cabaret matriarch Anya Anastasia is launching a public campaign for the position in Cabaret Star for Hire. In her new show, Anastasia announces she is calling time on her wildly successful career as a performer, setting out her prospects for the future and cataloguing in detail the abject failures in her past. Billed as 'part performance art, part Aussie opera, part physical and musical comedy extravaganza', Anastasia's swansong takes a hammer to the façade she created on social media before stepping us through her plans to take the espionage world by storm. Cynics might consider a public cabaret extravaganza an ill-judged medium for announcing one's entry into the spy game. But Anastasia's too damn good — this was never going to stay secret for long. Anya Anastasia: Cabaret Star for Hire is showing on Friday, July 12 and Saturday, July 13 as part of Bondi Feast 2019. For more information and to purchase tickets, head this way.
Ragu Pasta & Wine Bar has officially been serving Sydneysiders top-notch Italian fare for a whole nine years. And it's celebrating that milestone by dishing up an entire month of food and drink specials. Yep, it might be the pasta and wine bar's birthday, but the diners are the ones scoring the presents. The weekday dine-in specials will be flying hard and fast all through November, with a different wallet-friendly deal each week. It all kicks off on Monday, November 4, with Ragu offering a cheeky complimentary glass of prosecco with any purchase of a main meal until November 8. From November 11 to 15, it's all about the $9 pastas, while the following week, from November 18 to 22, you'll pay just $9 for any Aperol spritz or espresso martini. The birthday bonanza wraps up from November 25 to 29, when any main dish can come teamed with a glass of wine for just an extra $1. If ever there was a time to rekindle your love for Italian eats, it's now. RAGU NINTH BIRTHDAY SPECIALS November 4–8: Free glass of prosecco with any main November 11–15: $9 pasta November 18–22: $9 Aperol spritz and espresso martini November 25–29: $1 glass of wine with any main
You'd never guess from the popularity of its fried chicken that Johnny Bird was once a lobster roll joint. Luckily, it ditched the crustacean earlier this year in favour of free-range fried chicken, and it has been serving it up in droves every since. And, on the last Saturday of every month, its fryers are extra busy, when it hosts an all-you-can-eat fried chicken party. For $30, you'll get unlimited brined and fried chook with one of nine different sauces — Nashville hot, sticky Szechuan, chipotle mayo, blue cheese, Johnny sauce, gravy, house-made tomato sauce, Detroit smoky barbecue or ranch — and a side of fries, mash and gravy. Downing all that fried fare is thirsty work, so the lower north shore eatery is also cracking open tins of beer for just $6. To make a booking, head to the Johnny Bird website. Johnny Bird's all-you-can-eat fried chicken fest runs from 5pm.
Even with a slew of fundraising shows, feasts and classes, Australia's bushfire relief effort is set to score plenty more live, loud support, when an impressive group of big name Aussie and international artists come together for a huge fundraising gig at ANZ Stadium next month. And when we say big name, we mean it. The show — which will kick off at 1pm on Sunday, February 18 — is headline by a little band called Queen. Queen! The legendary band is in town for a national tour with Adam Lambert, who'll also be taking the stage. There are only a few seats left to their Sydney show on the Saturday night, so if you've been keen to see them in the flesh and chuck some money to some worthy charities, this might be your best option. Especially as Queen is just one of the artists on the bill for the nine-hour show. If you grab a ticket, you'll also get to see sets by local festival favourites Amy Shark, Baker Boy and Peking Duk, and long-serving Aussie artists Delta Goodrem and Jessica Mauboy, and even Alice Cooper and K.D Lang. Your need for nostalgia will be looked after, too, as John Farnham, Daryl Braithwaite and Tina Arena are also set to play. Plus, fundraising queen Celeste Barber will be the event's host. Tickets cost $100 (or $70–85 if you want a seat), and will go on sale at midday today, Monday, January 13. All profits from ticket sales will be donated to a group of charities, namely the Red Cross Disaster Relief and Recovery, the RSPCA Bushfire Appeal, and rural and regional fire services in each affected state. You can also donate extra to these charities on the event website. FIRE FIGHT AUSTRALIA LINEUP Alice Cooper Amy Shark Baker Boy Conrad Sewell Daryl Braithwaite Delta Goodrem Grinspoon Guy Sebastian Hilltop Hoods Icehouse Illy Jessica Mauboy John Farnham K.D Lang Lee Kernaghan Olivia Newtown-John Peking Duk Queen + Adam Lambert Tina Arena William Barton
Don't let Sydney Fringe pass by without terrifying yourself at Hillbilly Thriller. This scary event is taking over Legs Hub's Lilyfield car park with an interactive theatre show that combines Picnic at Hanging Rock with Wolf Creek. Your adventure will begin innocently enough where so many adventures do – at the bar. But, before you know it, your fellow drinkers will be disappearing before your eyes. And, at any point, you could become one of them. All the while, you'll be trying to work out where on Earth you are, be it a campground, a dumping ground or some remote swathe of forest. Created by Legs on the Wall, Hillybilly Thriller merges live performance with film, sound and art. It'll run for a week from Sunday, September 1, with six 15-minute shows taking place every evening. Just ten tickets are available to each, so, if you're keen, dive in quick.
Imagine every single one of your dream dance parties rolled into one. We're talking representation of every decade — from the mighty 80s prom to a Cuban club straight out of the 40s to a soul train disco from the 70s. Now, turn your vision into a reality by getting your ticket to Dance All Night, Sydney Fringe Festival's closing party. Descending on the City Tatts Hub on Saturday, September 28, this truly epic shindig will have you dancing, as the name suggests: all night long. Prepare to be making shapes for six hours, from 7pm until 3am. Yep, you're going to have to recall your pre-lockout self to make the most of this one. Tix, available online, are likely to sell out pretty fast. After all, we've got to wait a whole 'other year for our next injection of Fringe fest glory and madness.
When the first John Wick film burst into cinemas with a finessed flurry of fantastic action scenes and all-round Keanu Reeves awesomeness, it let its star utter a particularly memorable and telling line. "Yeah, I'm thinking I'm back," the inimitable actor announced — but while the highly enjoyable movie helped remind audiences of his excellence, Reeves himself hadn't really gone anywhere. A staple on screens for decades, Keanu boasts quite the resume, spanning cult comedies, poignant takes on Shakespeare, ace sci-fi franchises and sappy romances. There's also the time that he tried to save a bus that couldn't slow down, and his stellar stint as a surfing FBI agent. All of the above are on the lineup at the Ritz Cinemas event that every Reeves fan will want to head to: a seven-week Keanu Reeves-A-Thon. Every Friday night at 9pm between November 1 and December 13, the theatre will work through a selection of the star's hit flicks in chronological order. Start with Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, take a trip through My Own Private Idaho, hit the waves with Point Break, and get fast and furious with Speed — before entering The Matrix, visiting The Lake House and saying hello to John Wick.
So, your home's in need of a sprucing up but you're dreading the thought of trawling through endless shelves or pages of products to get the bits and pieces you need. Thankfully, Top3 has your back this weekend, hosting a hefty warehouse sale in Crows Nest, from Friday, September 13, until Monday, September 16. For this sale, the team's pulled together a sprawling array of discontinued lines, floor stock and sample pieces, all going cheap at up to 80 percent off. Score one-off bargains on goodies for your kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and bar, across top brands like Marimekko, In Bed, Normann Copenhagen, Mister Wolf, Missoni, Braun and more. If you can't make it into the physical sale, Top3 is making life a little easier by hosting an online sale, too. The stock is a little different, but you'll still find a heap of discounted goodies, with everything from linen to kitchenware and chairs. Top3 Warehouse Sale is opening on Friday 10am–6pm, Saturday 10am–6pm, Sunday 10am–4pm, and Monday 10am–4pm.
Clear your weekend schedules, Sydneysiders — there's a bottomless margaritas and tacos brunch here to fill your weekends. Bondi's buzzing Mexican restaurant Taqiza is throwing an indulgent brunch party that'll bring all the good vibes of a summery vacation in Tulum to Sydney's most famous beach suburb. It's inspired by the success of its sister restaurant Carbòn's similar all-you-can-eat offer. But, Taqiza has taken things up a notch by also getting inspo from the recent Netflix series Taco Chronicles, which starts with a deep dive into the savoury, pork-based al pastor tacos that are a street-food staple of Mexico City. Every Saturday and Sunday from 12–5pm, Taqiza is offering all the al pastor tacos your belly can handle, plus bottomless margaritas for $75 per person. Prefer plant-based? There'll be vegan tacos on offer, too. You'll be sipping on some top-quality cocktails, with Taqiza using some of the best quality tequilas to make its margaritas. So, you won't need to worry about a banging hangover from cheap booze — all your margs will be made with the good stuff. For a non-stop flavour feast, book your spot now, put on your snazziest pair of stretchy pants and head on down to Bondi for all the zesty margaritas and pork tacos you can handle.
If seasonal change has left you in a dizzy headspin of new colours and fabrics and prints and jackets — or if, y'know, you just like some fancy new clothes now and then — you'll be pretty pleased to know that the Big Fashion Sale is coming back to Paddington Town Hall for four days this September. The name pretty much says it all. This thing is big. You'll find thousands of lush items from past collections, samples and one-offs from over 50 cult Australian and international designers, both well-known and emerging, including Romance Was Born, Isabel Marant, Alexander McQueen, Phillip Lim, Stella McCartney, Dries Van Noten and more. With discounts of up to 80 percent off, this is one way to up your count of designer while leaving your bank balance sitting pretty, too. Prices this low tend to inspire a certain level of ruthlessness in all of us, though, so practise that grabbing reflex in advance. This is every shopper for themselves. The Big Fashion Sale will be open Thursday 9am–7pm, Friday–Saturday 9am–6pm and Sunday 10am–5pm.
Heading to the cinema is usually an act of escapism, but the Antenna Documentary Film Festival isn't avoiding life's woes. The Sydney-based event dedicates its 11-day, 50-movie program to true tales from around the world. Running from Thursday, October 17 to Sunday, October 27 at the Chauvel Cinema, Palace Verona and Parramatta's Riverside Theatre, the fest casts its eyes far and wide to relay stunning stories that couldn't be more real. You won't find CGI fantasies and simple accounts of good versus evil here, but what you will discover is a plethora of thought-provoking efforts. Antenna's 2019 program surveys everything from politics, history, war and fashion to artificial intelligence, citizen journalism, the textile industry and immigration. After kicking off with the latest documentary from inimitable German filmmaker Werner Herzog — Nomad: In The Footsteps of Bruce Chatwin, which is partly set in Australia — the fest's lineup also spends time with two dogs hanging out in a skate park in Santiago in the adorable Los Reyes, and heads to an empowering Aussie rock camp in No Time for Quiet. Also look out for Hi, AI, about the growing use of artificial intelligence in daily life (in both functional and creepy ways); The Rest, Ai Weiwei's latest powerful documentary about the global immigration crisis; and Jawline, about a Tennessee teen who just wants to be an Instagram influencer. Elsewhere, The Hottest August explores the timely topic of climate change; Recorder: The Marion Stokes Project tells the tale of a woman who recorded American TV channels, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, for more than 30 years; and the fest also pays tribute to pioneering filmmaker Shirley Clark via a retrospective of three of her films.
When The Proposition unleashed its outback western onto cinema screens, it did so with a distinctive sound, all thanks to Nick Cave and Warren Ellis. When The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford explored the death of an American outlaw, The Road took viewers into a post-apocalyptic wasteland and West of Memphis pondered a potential miscarriage of justice, the Australian musicians again provided the soundtrack — as they did with Hell or High Water and Wind River's crime thrills, too. Bandmates across several projects since the 90s — including Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and Grinderman — Cave and Ellis are Aussie icons, with careers spanning back decades before they started composing music for movies. But even if you've seen the duo play live countless times over the years, you haven't seen anything like the pair's latest show. Following its world premiere in Melbourne this August, the show is heading to the Sydney Opera House, taking over the Concert Hall for three performances across two nights this December. Cave and Ellis will take to the stage with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra and Sydney Philharmonia Choirs to perform pieces from all of the above film scores. Watch the talented musos work through their movie output, as paired with symphonic sound and conducted by Nicholas Buc — and prepare to witness something special. Tickets for Film Music: Nick Cave and Warren Ellis go on sale at 9am on Friday, October 18 with pre-sale kicking off at 9am on Wednesday, October 16. Image: Jayden Ostwald
