Australians have almost spent 12 months now navigating different levels of COVID-19 restrictions, with the rules tightening and easing state by state depending on case numbers in each area. Accordingly, the announcement of more changes has become a regular occurrence — but when that news involves being able to have bigger parties and hit the dance floor, it's always welcome. Today, Wednesday, February 24, Premier Gladys Berejiklian announced that New South Wales' current coronavirus restrictions will relax again at 12.01am on Friday, February 26. With the rules for restaurants, bars, cafes and eateries last easing a fortnight ago, this time around the NSW Government is focusing on at-home gatherings. Just in time to shape your weekend plans, you'll be able to have 50 people over to your house at once, instead of the current maximum of 30. The rules around dancing are also changing, but only in one specific setting: weddings. So, Sydneysiders can't start making shapes at their favourite bar or nightclub just yet; however, if you know someone that's getting hitched in the immediate future, you can join a group of 30 people in total on the dance floor at the reception. In other changes, 50 people can now attend gym classes at the same time, but the one person per four-square-metres rule is still in effect. And, if singing is on your agenda, choirs and congregations can get vocal with 30 people at once. Also, cinemas can go back up to 100-percent capacity. Premier Berejiklian also revealed that, come Wednesday, March 17, standing up while you drink indoors at a pub or bar will be back "if everything goes well" between now and then. She flagged that wedding capacities — currently limited at 300 people — may also increase, but didn't give that change a set date. While restrictions continue to ease, the Premier noted that NSW residents still "have to be as vigilant as ever. We have to make sure we do not become complacent, that we stick to the COVID restrictions and rules to make sure that all of us stay protected". The latest announcement comes as NSW recorded no new locally acquired COVID-19 cases in the 24 hours to 8pm on Tuesday, February 23, marking 38 consecutive days where that's been the case. As always, NSW residents are asked to continue to get tested immediately if you experience even the mildest of COVID-19 symptoms. For more information about the status of COVID-19 in NSW, head to the NSW Health website.
There's nothing as heartwarming as a community coming together to support each other — and that's exactly what the trendy inner suburb of Paddington has decided to do. On Thursday, November 21, businesses throughout Paddington will be offering a night of specials, deals, activations, dinners, events and more for Paddo Night Out. It has been increasingly difficult for independent businesses to stay open in the face of rising costs and corporate competition, with 2024 witnessing the closure of many beloved venues across the city. Grabbing the issue by the horns, The Paddo Collective — a clutch of local businesses collaborating for their collective benefit, supported by the Office of the 24-Hour Economy Commissioner's Uptown Program — has decided to step in with this new event in hopes of revitalising the local scene. [caption id="attachment_814270" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Visit Paddington[/caption] Revellers can join Tequila Mockingbird for an outdoor barbecue and $15 margs and other classic cocktails, or stop by The Wine Library street cart, where French-style crepes and glasses of natural wine for $12 will be on offer. The Paddo Inn will be serving $15 margaritas during their 'Playlist Thursdays' DJ set, while The Paddington will run a two-for-one bottle of rosé event along with other cocktail discounts. Fred's will be extending its Aperitif Hour to include more drinks and complimentary snacks, and certainly don't miss free wine tasting at Five Ways Cellar. At a time when the vibrancy of Sydney's hospitality scene is under threat, Paddo Night Out is a chance to support local businesses without breaking the bank. A cheap drink that supports your favourite local hospos? We'll drink to that.
The Australian festival scene's worst-kept secret for 2023 has been confirmed: Post Malone is headlining Spilt Milk. When the melancholic hitmaker announced his latest solo tour Down Under, he named venues in Sydney, Brisbane and Melbourne, but also had Canberra, Gold Coast, Ballarat and Perth listed without specific sites. We predicted that those stops would see him play Spilt Milk — and, yes, that theory was right. Music lovers and festival fans in Canberra, Ballarat, Perth and the Gold Coast, Post Malone is on his way. The fest will kick off its 2023 season on Saturday, November 25 at Exhibition Park in the nation's capital, then head to the Gold Coast Sports Precinct on Sunday, November 26. The following weekend, it'll hit up Ballarat's Victoria Park on Saturday, December 2, before wrapping up on Sunday, December 3 at Claremont Showgrounds in Perth. The latter stop marks Spilt Milk's debut in the Western Australian city, and might just see the fest prove even more popular than it usually does. In 2022, that year's three stops all sold out in less than seven days. Post Malone has company on the fest's stages, with Dom Dolla and Latto also leading the bill. So, expect to hear everything from 'Sunflower' and 'I Like You' to 'Rhyme Dust' and 'Big Energy'. Tkay Maidza and Aitch also rank among Spilt Milk's impressive 2023 names, with Chris Lake, Dermot Kennedy, Budjerah, Cub Sport, Lastlings, Partiboi69, Ocean Alley, Peach PRC, Royel Otis also set to hit the stage. [caption id="attachment_851189" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Billy Zammit[/caption] Also, because this fest is also about food, there'll be bites to eat from Chebbo's Burgers, 400 Gradi, Chicken Treat, and the BBQ and Beer Roadshow. Originally only held in Canberra, then expanding to Ballarat, then the Gold Coast and now Perth, the multi-city one-dayer has cemented its spot as a must-attend event for a heap of reasons. In 2023, this just-announced lineup is one of them. [caption id="attachment_851187" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Jordan Munns[/caption] SPILT MILK 2023 DATES: Saturday, November 25 — Exhibition Park, Canberra Sunday, November 26 — Gold Coast Sports Precinct, Gold Coast Saturday, December 2 — Victoria Park, Ballarat Sunday, December 3 — Claremont Showgrounds, Perth SPILT MILK 2023 LINEUP: Post Malone Dom Dolla Aitch Budjerah Chris Lake Cub Sport David Kushner Dermot Kennedy Djanaba Grentperez Jessie Murph Lastlings Latto Levins & Friends (Guilty Pleasures) Lime Cordiale May-A Mincy Ocean Alley Pacific Avenue Partiboi69 Peach Prc Poolclvb Redhook Royel Otis The Buoys The Dreggs Tia Gostelow Tkay Maidza Also in Canberra: Apricot Ink Clique & Brittany Demarco G.A.C.T (Just Tneek, Kinetictheory, Bin Juice, Geo) Sputnik Sweetheart Zach Knows + more to be announced Triple J Unearthed Winner Also on the Gold Coast: Bill Durry Friends Of Friends Logan Peach Fur + more to be announced Triple J Unearthed Winner Also in Ballarat: Ango Ben Gerrans Blue Vedder Sami Srirachi Yorke Triple J Unearthed Winner Also in Perth: Don Darkoe Dulcie Sammythesinner The Vault Djs + more to be announced Spilt Milk will hit Canberra, Ballarat, the Gold Coast and Perth in November and December 2023. Pre-sale tickets go on sale on Tuesday, July 11 and general sales on Thursday, July 15 — at 8am AEST for Canberra tickets, 8am AWST for Perth tickets, 9am AEST for Ballarat tickets and 11am AEST for Gold Coast tickets. Head to the festival website for more info and to register for pre-sales. Top image: Jordan Munns.
Thirty years, hundreds of films and thousands of minutes spent staring at the silver screen: that's what the Alliance Française French Film Festival is celebrating in 2019. Three decades since first launching in Australia, the event is marking its mammoth milestone with a particularly huge festival. And like all of the best big birthday bashes, the fest has assembled quite the on-screen guest list. When AFFFF starts touring the country from March 5 — kicking off in Sydney before heading to heading to Melbourne, Canberra, Perth, Brisbane, Hobart, Adelaide, Avoca Beach, Parramatta and Byron Bay — it'll not only screen 54 movies across a six-week period, but also showcase a heap of French acting greats. Think Juliette Binoche, Audrey Tautou, Isabelle Adjani, Vincent Cassel, Catherine Deneuve, Charlotte Gainsbourg and Mathieu Amalric, plus Vanessa Paradis and her daughter Lily-Rose Depp. The list goes on (obviously). With acclaimed French directors Claire Denis and Jacques Audiard each making their English-language filmmaking debuts over the last 12 months, this year's AFFFF also boasts a bit of Hollywood star power. Robert Pattinson and André Benjamin (aka André 3000) join the aforementioned Binoche in Denis' stellar dystopian space effort High Life, while Joaquin Phoenix, John C. Reilly and Jake Gyllenhaal star in Audiard's western, The Sisters Brothers. Both titles have been gathering praise on the international festival circuit since late last year, and will hit Aussie screens for the first time at AFFFF. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtOwfo1ypOw From opening film The Trouble with You to closing night's Kiss & Tell — both comedies — the full lineup boasts plenty of other features to get excited about. Intimate drama A Faithful Man steps into the complications of romance, with Louis Garrel both in front of and behind the camera; César award-nominee Amanda follows a twentysomething forced to bond with his niece; and doco fans can get a fashion fix with both Celebration: Yves Saint Laurent and Jean-Paul Gaultier: Freak & Chic. Elsewhere, famed director François Ozon returns with By the Grace of God, which comes our way after premiering in Berlin in February, and Olivier Assayas is back with his thoughtful latest offering, Non-Fiction. While the trio of The World Is Yours, Knife + Heart and Sorry Angel have already played on Australian screens, specifically in Melbourne last year, they're also worth looking out for — the crime caper, campy slasher and queer romance all made our best of MIFF list for a good reason. Finally, if you're keen on both old and new French talents, they're both in the spotlight in a considerable way. The former comes courtesy of a restored screening of Alain Resnais' classic 1961 effort Last Year at Marienbad, and a dedicated program strand highlights the latter, including emerging filmmakers such as Coralie Fargeat (Revenge), Cécila Rouaud (Family Photo) and Dominique Rocher (The Night Eats the World). The Alliance Française French Film Festival tours Australia from March 5, screening at Sydney's Chauvel Cinema, Palace Norton Street, Palace Verona, Palace Central and Hayden Orpheum Picture Palace from March 5 to April 10; Melbourne's Palace Balwyn, Palace Brighton Bay, Palace Cinema Como, Palace Westgarth, Kino Cinemas and The Astor Theatre from March 6 to April 10; Perth's Palace Raine Square, Cinema Paradiso, Luna on SX, Windsor Cinema andCamelot Outdoor Cinema from March 13 to April 10; and Brisbane's Palace Barracks and Palace James Street from March 14 to April 14. For more information and to buy tickets, visit the AFFFF website.
Inspire packed halls to erupt with laughter, travel around picturesque locales while eating meals with Steve Coogan, and imitate everyone from Tom Jones to Michael Caine. Yes, there's much that Rob Brydon can do. He can also hold his own on every British panel show ever made, play a traffic warden in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and make his voice sound like it's echoing from a box. But not even this multi-talented Welsh comedian can keep Swimming with Men afloat. Brydon's latest big-screen outing wants to bob along the surface of the offbeat sports comedy pool. It wants to paddle around casually, making viewers happy without making too big a splash. Alas, this by-the-numbers comedy sinks quickly, as you might expect given its premise: The Full Monty, just with synchronised swimming. The mix of curiosity, amusement and puzzlement that synchronised swimming sometimes sparks ("really, this is actually a sport?") is Eric Scott's (Brydon) starting position. To be fair, he's similarly bewildered by much of his routine life. The closer that his local councillor wife Heather (Jane Horrocks) seems to get to her colleague Lewis (Nathaniel Parker), the more blustered Eric becomes, and the more his son Billy (Spike White) revels in the uncomfortable situation. Gin doesn't cure his despair, however a dip in the local pool just might. In the beginning, Eric only notices the amateur synchronised swimming squad because they have the wrong number of members, and naturally he's an accountant. And yet it's not all that long until he's joining their ranks. The difference between formulaic comedy done well and formulaic comedy done badly is often a matter of mood and energy. With Swimming with Men reaching cinema screens at the same time as the also straightforward Fighting with My Family, that couldn't be more evident. The pair have their commonalities and their contrasts. Both are based on documentaries — 2010's Men Who Swim, about an all-male Swedish team, in this case — and both tell standard underdog tales. Each focuses on a vastly dissimilar sport, and has its own target market in mind. But the flat, dull feeling that Swimming with Men evokes is all a matter of tone and spirit; specifically, it doesn't have much of either. Instead, the film presents a forced feel-good vibe, a strong desire to swim in Calendar Girls and Brassed Off's slipstream, and very little to make it stand out. Skimming along the surface of its male malaise theme, it also boasts a rote group of hardly fit and heavily discontent blokes surrounding Brydon: Rupert Graves plays the slick one, Adeel Akhtar is the cynic, Jim Carter is sensitive, Daniel Mays is both hot-headed and stressed, and Thomas Turgoose is the token troubled youth. No one is at their best, and while treading water is an essential part of donning speedos and doing eggbeater kicks, the cast does so both literally and figuratively. Screenwriter Aschlin Ditta doesn't give anyone much choice, saddling them with easy, lazy humour and zero trace of character development. Also wading half-heartedly is director Oliver Parker. Trading the teen-centric St. Trinian's flicks for the silliness of Johnny English Reborn, and then for the middle-aged antics of Dad's Army and Swimming with Men, he's happy to take the dullest, most obvious route through the movie. It's the filmmaking equivalent of slowly paddling laps rather than busting out any acrobatic moves — and while you can swim freestyle leisurely with a smile, it's always going to remain the same old stroke. When the film reaches its big climax, a synchronised swimming contest, it almost seems like Parker realises how little excitement he has put on the screen. Rather than relishing the performance, appreciating this odd bunch of unlikely men banding together and doing their best, or eagerly celebrating their achievement, he keeps jumping to shots of the watching crowd. They might be enthused, but after such a bland affair, it's difficult to share their sentiments. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pzvyIZdXTY
Imagine if the SBW Stables Theatre in Kings Cross were not the SBW Stables Theatre. Imagine if you climbed those creaky stairs and in place of one of Sydney's premiere performance spaces was just another of the area's utilitarian, asbestos-laced, '50s-era studio flats whose occupants are too unsettled to wholly furnish. Imagine if this flat, in this exact spot, held a story — of a young woman and her encounters with love, loss and cricket. It's a slightly magic flat. Thick grass grows in place of some of the floorboards, and, on a few fuzzy mornings, a typically Cross-ian neon sign drops down to inform us, "This is not her place". Ellen (Belinda Bromilow), a Melburnian whose two years in Sydney have yet to bring friends or any sense of belonging, has taken to finding comfort in sauvignon blanc and the beds of strangers. They're all played by Nathan Lovejoy (an FBi Awards best performer nominee for Way to Heaven): Brian, an overeager Stanmore sharehouser; Tom, a pushy Woollahra work contact; Adam, whom she has accidentally brought back to her own place and ought to remember from somewhere. At the same time, her father (Tony Llewellyn-Jones) has emerged as a surprise house guest, and she regresses to childlike vulnerability and desire to please as they follow the summer's Ashes cricket matches — on the radio, as per their tradition. Some say there are five stages to grieving. There also happen to be five tests that make up the Ashes. It's one of the most beautiful and yielding of this play's devices. The result is moving but graced with plenty of gentle humour — This Year's Ashes is proudly a romantic comedy, and it uses that generally derided genre's conventions to question as well as entertain. The new work is inspired by playwright Jane Bodie's own experiences struggling with a relocation back to Sydney, and the honesty embedded in it shines through. The shine is dulled somewhat by moments of melodrama, which do not work in the play's favour and are amplified by lighting, sound and directing cues that try too hard to tell you how to feel (much like a mainstream romantic comedy would, come to think of it). It may be why the scenes between father and daughter don't quite knock you for six. There's also that niggling reason why we don't often see modern romantic comedies on stage: the genre is built on fantasy (true love will rescue you, conquer all, etc, etc), and art, we often think, is for seeking out truth. That's not to say you can't go fossicking with such a tool and still unpick nuggets of trueness, but this outing could have come back with a heftier haul.
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
The actors have it: in The Whale, Brendan Fraser (No Sudden Move), Hong Chau (The Menu) and Sadie Sink (Stranger Things) are each masterful, and each in their own way. For viewers unaware that this drama about a reclusive 600-pound English professor stems from the stage going in, it won't take long to realise — for multiple reasons, the film's performances chief among them. As penned by Samuel D Hunter (also a writer on TV's Baskets) from his award-winning semi-autobiographical play, The Whale's script is talky and blunt. The movie is confined to its protagonist Charlie's home, and is as claustrophobic as it's meant to be as a result. But it's that key acting trio, with the portrayals they splash through a flick that's a complicated sea of feelings and ideas, that helps The Whale swim when it swims. Yes, the Brenaissance is upon us, showering Fraser in accolades including his first-ever Oscar nod; however, fellow Academy Award-nominee Chau and rising star Sink are equally as powerful. Is it really the Brenaissance if Fraser hasn't ever been too far from our screens for too long? When he was recently stellar in 2021's No Sudden Move, albeit in a supporting part? Given that it's been decades since he's had the space and the feature to serve up this kind of lead effort, the answer remains yes. Slip his The Whale performance in beside standout 2002 thriller The Quiet American — although the latter didn't place The Mummy action star and Encino Man comedic force beneath considerable prosthetics. Fraser doesn't let his appearance here do all the work, though. Filmmaker Darren Aronofsky, who hones in on the stressed and tested as he has so frequently before (see: Requiem for a Dream, Black Swan, The Wrestler and mother!), doesn't allow it to, either. At the core of the pair's collaboration is a portrayal that overflows with vulnerability and grief alongside optimism for humanity, and acutely fuses Charlie's emotional and physical states. The character self-mockingly jokes that his internal organs are buried deep, but nothing conceals Fraser's sensitivity. It's with a lone black square that The Whale initially explains Charlie's relationship with the world: on online calls with his students, he's represented by a void of a tile. He claims that his webcam is broken, but he's actively hiding — from his pupils' reactions and from facing his sorrow. Other than these digital lectures, visits from his friend and nurse Liz (Chau) to check on his wellbeing and deliver food, and daily pizza drops from a driver instructed to leave the slices outside, Charlie has withdrawn from everything beyond his first-floor apartment when the film begins. That said, The Whale isn't a portrait of a man who is sad and has shut himself off because he is overweight. Rather, it's an exploration of someone who has an eating disorder because he is heartbroken by a tragedy, relying upon food compulsively to cope, and to process his doubts and regrets over his decisions and their ramifications. Friedrich Nietzsche's aphorism "what does not kill me makes me stronger" is flipped here: after the death of his partner Alan, who he left his ex-wife Mary (Samantha Morton, She Said) and now-teenage daughter Ellie (Sink) to be with, Charlie is using the sustenance we all need for strength and survival as his escape route. His sense of self has been slain by his loss, and so has his willingness to go on. It isn't just to ramp up tension or establish that obesity can spark high blood pressure and heart attacks that The Whale has its central figure doubling over with chest pains while he's masturbating early in the feature. With the film's narrative unfurling day by day, the incident sets a ticking clock, but most importantly it sees Charlie refuse to go to hospital. When she arrives, Liz insists, but he still won't agree. In this specific character study, he's that steadfast — and, even as he tries to reconnect with the bitter Ellie and spouts hope for humankind's ability to care, he's that intensely unhappy without Alan. Indeed, if it wasn't for missionary Thomas (Ty Simpkins, Avengers: Endgame), who conveniently comes a-knocking for the New Life church spouting a message about the end of times, Charlie wouldn't make it to The Whale's second act. Instead of asking the soul-searching young man to phone an ambulance, he makes a request that seems inexplicable while he's struggling for breath: to read aloud from an essay about Moby-Dick. The film gains its title from and shares its sense of search with Herman Melville's famous novel, as Charlie battles the behemoth that is his own complicated, constantly contrasting and conflicted feelings. The link isn't subtle. Again, The Whale isn't usually subtle. For another case in point, hear: Rob Simonsen's (Ghostbusters: Afterlife) emotion-shouting score. But Fraser always conveys Charlie's pain like it's pumping through the actor's own veins, and proves devastatingly and movingly effective at balancing bright-eyed charm with piercing melancholy. While The Whale both demands and deploys Fraser's best — in tender moments, in dialogue-heavy exchanges and in his physical performance alike — it leaves ample room for Chau and Sink to make an imprint. Aronofsky may task his regular cinematographer Matthew Libatique (also a Don't Worry Darling alum) with boxing in Fraser via the constricting Academy ratio, often offering very little visible space around him, but Chau's distressed pal and Sink's cruel daughter remain pivotal to this story. What does it mean to want contentment and safety for a loved one who seeks the opposite for himself? To bear the hurt of someone else's choices? To have either your daily existence or your identity, or both, forged by another's decisions? In Chau's direct, kindhearted but quietly anguished turn, and in Sink's openly, flippantly brutal reactions as Ellie, The Whale compassionately plunges into these questions. It should come as little surprise that Aronofsky's eighth film is at its finest when it lets Fraser, Chau and Sink verbally bounce off of each other — when it's unpacking the feelings boiling in Charlie's grimly lit, amber-hued flat, and examining how every life's ups and downs ebb and flow into others. Finding insights in clashing people, attitudes and concepts is The Whale's approach in general, including in its use of darkness and light; handling of religion and salvation; survey of Charlie's internal and external suffering; and attempts to wade into stress- and binge-eating, consumption as a coping mechanism, and body-shaming responses to any departure from societal standards of beauty. Charlie himself chases meaning in the same type of chaos and contradictions, pinning his hopes as his days wane on a last-minute reunion with Ellie. In that fiery confrontation, as in every single one at the heart of The Whale, nothing is easy.
Consider yourself reminded – Valentine's Day is just around the corner. But don't fear if you've forgotten to organise a fancy table for you and your SO, bestie or group of pals – with A Table to End Hunger you can secure that last minute booking, while also supporting an important cause. A Table to End Hunger has already made reservations at 140 of Australia's best restaurants, which come inclusive with a dinner and drinks package to ensure your night goes off without a hitch. All you have to do is place the winning bid on any one of the many high-flying restaurants, and you'll get the spot. Plus, your winning bid will also help end world hunger by 2030, as 100% of the proceeds go straight to The Hunger Project. And going one step further, if the winning bid is paid with an eligible American Express Card, Amex will donate an additional 15% of the bid value. No matter what part of the country you live in, there are loads of participating restaurants in your state. Feel like some Spanish tapas overlooking Melbourne CBD? Place a bid on Bomba. Or, if stylish Italian is more your game, stake your claim on Double Bay's Matteo. If you're in Brisbane, snag a table at newcomer Little Big House. There's pretty much every type of atmosphere, cuisine and location you could need, so head over to the A Table to End Hunger auction page and spread the love this Valentine's Day. Online bidding is happening right now and will close on Sunday February 11, 2018 at 9pm AEDT. Terms and conditions apply. Image: Nikki To.
2015's Creed was the best kind of surprise. What seemed destined to be a sad resurrection of a franchise already long past its prime turned out to be a benchmark moment for sports movies, combining heart-pumping pugilism with the same kind of tender romance that underscored and grounded the original Rocky. As Adonis 'Donnie' Creed, Michael B. Jordan delivered a fearless performance laden with vulnerability and irresistible charisma, while Sylvester Stallone's reserved turn reminded audiences that beneath his tough guy exterior remains a fine and gifted actor possessed of a deep emotional range. Those same qualities and performances are again present in Creed II, although the story itself unfortunately fails to match the power and drive of its predecessor. The setup is certainly juicy enough. Viktor Drago, son of Ivan – the man who killed Creed's father Apollo in the ring during Rocky IV – arrives in Philadelphia with his father and challenges the newly-crowned heavyweight champion of the world to a fight. It's a chance to "rewrite history" as Donnie tells his mother. But Rocky's heart is filled with dread, with his sense of guilt over Apollo's death a constant companion. Refusing to train Donnie, he and his protege part ways until a tragedy of sorts brings them back together and it's time for another classic training montage. Outside of the ring, Tessa Thompson gives Creed II some much-needed personal drama as Donnie's girlfriend Bianca, delivering another passionate performance imbued with a great deal of heart despite being disappointingly relegated to a more secondary role this time around. Directed by Steven Caple Jr. taking over from Black Panther's Ryan Coogler, Creed II is clearly at its strongest in the ring, where its glorious combination of POV camerawork and sumptuous sound design contributes to an almost uncomfortably visceral, bone-crunching experience. Slow-motion is used more sparingly than is usual in boxing films, reserved here for the truly devastating body blows and upper-cuts. You really feel the hits in this movie, especially those delivered to the ribs where the accompanying snap will have you hugging yourself tightly for comfort. The writing, however, is notably weaker, due perhaps to Coogler's absence (save for an executive producer credit). The screenplay, co-written by Stallone, still has its moments, but lacks the nuance and restraint that helped make Creed into something special. There are too many lines that sound like they were ripped straight from fortune cookies ("It may not seem like it now, but this is more than just a fight"), while the periodic narration from the TV and ringside commentators that added so much authenticity to the original is downright abysmal in the sequel. Countering this, thankfully, are the fine repeat performances from Stallone, Jordan and Thompson, whose chemistry and closeness continue to sizzle on screen. The joy of seeing Dolph Lundgren return as Drago, too, is a highlight, but one that's sadly short lived as he's given little more to do than scowl and grizzle from his first scene to his last. Similarly, the most interesting character in Creed II is also its least explored. Viktor Drago is an irresistible combination of brute physical force and deep-seeded emotional turmoil, neatly packaged inside the 6-foot-4 mountain of muscle that is Romanian boxer and fitness model Florian Munteanu. Abandoned by his mother, weaponised by his father and ignored by his country until a string of victories bring him into the light, Viktor's most compelling fight is the one that's unseen. As he and his father are welcomed back into Russian high society, the young Drago finds no satisfaction in his celebrity, acutely aware of the fair-weather nature of the fans and disgusted by his father's seemingly instant compliance with those who rejected him (including Viktor's mother). Yet Munteanu finds himself forced to play a caricature – although he manages to sneak in moments of emotional subtlety where he can. Indeed, why they fight is at the heart of both fighters' story in Creed II. Driven by reasons that at first seem clear, both Viktor and Donnie soon find ambiguity and doubt needling their way into their respective psyches. By the time the big finale arrives, they remind you of soldiers on a battlefield, bloodied and beaten, yet ultimately more like brothers than enemies – men sent to destroy one another at the behest of those safe behind the lines. As much a father/son story as it is a boxing one, Creed II's tale of family and redemption ultimately doesn't match the quality of the original. Even so, it's a compelling sequel, and worthy of your time. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-eB1AwpCXI
Last time you went to Sydney's Luna Park, you might've screamed to the high heavens while riding a rollercoaster or let out a gasp on the sky-high ferris wheel. Well, this time you'll be screaming for an entirely different reason. Over five fright-filled nights, Luna Park will host the ultimate hair-raising Halloween extravaganza with Halloscream returning for the sixth year. And, as always, it's sure to be a screaming success. During Halloscream 6: The Rise of the Cursed Carnival, the park will transform into a spooky scare-fair with horror-themed mazes, haunted houses and blood-curdling rides. There's a Goosebumps-themed slime slide for children of the 90s that are desperate to live out their childhood horror fantasies. You'll also find the frightening Ward 13 maze — beware of the insane nurse on a killing spree — and a terrifying Toyshop of Terrors maze where you'll meet a boy who was put back together using mechanical toy parts after a serious injury — we're imagining part-Edward Scissorhands, part-Pinocchio. Should you need to calm your nerves with a bite to eat, there'll be a throng of Halloween-themed eateries slinging all kinds of scary fare like a 'meatball mummy with spaghetti' and 'sundaes of the dead'. Costumes aren't required but we recommend getting into the spooky spirit with your best Halloween number — even mouse ears count (duh). But if you forget, head to Boris the Decayed and his team of dead makeup artists to get a makeover by a corpse — it'll only set you back $10. There's a best dressed competition, with the winner receiving a trip for two to the 2019 Melbourne Supanova Comic Con — just share a pic on Instagram with #Halloscream. Halloscream 6: The Rise of the Cursed Carnival kicks off on Friday, October 26 from 7pm till late. The carnival will run until Saturday, November 3. Tickets start at $59.95 per person and include entry, unlimited rides and access to all Halloscream attractions. Grab some friends and head along for a screaming good time. For more information and to book tickets, visit the Luna Park website.
The Cape Byron Lighthouse is the most easterly point of Australia and a necessary part of any trip to Byron. It was operated by resident keepers until 1989, but now has an automated light that's visible from town. The site booms during whale season, when the migration is caught in action from this great vantage point. Apart from whales, dolphins and turtles also migrate through this way and are regularly spotted from the cape. For history around the site and the migration, the Maritime Museum is open 10am to 4pm daily and is well worth a visit. Images: Destination NSW
The Sydney Comedy Festival began in 2005, and since then it has grown big enough, not necessarily to give Melbourne a run for it's money, but to provide Sydney with the much needed laughs it so rightly deserves. Now firmly established, the festival is attracting some of the best international acts as well as inspiring local talent to have a go at getting up on stage and make fools of themselves for the sake of hilarity. The festival aims to celebrate local talent and to foster a healthy home-grown comedy base, with programs such as Fresh and One Minute Comedy Wonders helping to develop emerging performers. And with shows all over the place, from bigger venues like The Enmore Theatre and The Factory Theatre, to smaller ones like Newtown bar Corridor, there's a heap of different stuff to pick and choose from this year. 2011's full program includes British acts Stephen K. Amos and Danny Bhoy, who are thankfully regulars to Australia and completely worth seeing. Other hilarious international acts include Gina Yashere, Nina Conti and Jason Byrne, who may or may not put you in a cardboard box and yell at you. There's also a host of local talent, including Lawrence Leung and Triple J's Cloud Girls. Also on the bill are one-off events like That One Story and I Heart Impromance, which look set to plump out what has become a very welcome addition to Sydney's festival calendar. https://youtube.com/watch?v=CJQU22Ttpwc
It has been a long time since the humble Cleveland Street Theatre was put to regular use. That will change on Monday when, after an almost seven-year hiatus, the (now) 'Giant Dwarf' is revived. The odd name is actually shared with The Chaser's production company, who are the crew behind the new venue. Never ones to lose connection with their Sydney performing arts roots just because of one, two or a dozen TV success stories (recently, The Hamster Wheel, The Checkout), they see the new live venue as feeding into the work they already do. "The main aim for the theatre has always been to extend the vision of the production company — to create an inspiring environment for new talent to develop skills and produce original and engaging content," says the venue general manager and Giant Dwarf program director Nikita Agzarian. "In doing this we hope we can create a vibrant space that offers a point of difference in live performance to the Sydney audience." The space is focusing on those funny-shaped hybrids of comedy, storytelling and performance that have become popular but nomadic fixtures on the Sydney scene — events like Story Club, Erotic Fanfiction and scratch night Cut & Paste. "We are excited for Giant Dwarf to be the platform that exposes a larger audience to some of the most amazingly talented writers, comedians and performers that we have been lucky enough to work with on a regular basis," says Nikita. Formerly the home of Performance Space (now based out of Carriageworks), Cleveland Street Theatre was first established in the early '80s as a venue by and for emerging artists. The space was seen to encourage contemporary performance makers in Sydney and challenge conventional notions of theatre. Performers did things like turning off all the lights and leaving the audience to fend for themselves in the dark and eventually discover they were locked in. (That one didn't go down so well; read more here.) Aside from a few brief, pop-up events over the years, the Cleveland Street Theatre has since been an empty vessel. Until now. It came to the Chaser team's attention when they were moving offices nearly a year ago, and they found they couldn't drop it. "We actually came close to going with a few other properties, but the theatre had a hold over us, we always seemed to come back to it," says Nikita. "Since moving in, we have been restoring it to its original state. It's been a lot of work to get to where we are but it's totally worth it." Giant Dwarf will open officially on Monday, February 10, kicking off with the uber-popular comedy/storytelling/all-round-riot-of-a-night Story Club. This month it features Ben Law (The Family Law, Gaysia), Tom Ballard (former co-host of Triple J Breakfast, general legend), The Chasers' own Andrew Hansen and other super funny people. Giant Dwarf is at 199 Cleveland Street, Redfern. Get your tickets and more info via Eventbrite. By Mairead Armstrong and Rima Sabina Aouf. Update Feb 12: Check out the photos from opening night. Photos by Helen Melville.
A debaucherous long-table feast that'd even impress the Queen of Hearts is taking over Sydney Town Hall this winter. Fittingly called The Queen's Feast, the event will see a meal by some of the city's top chefs paired with live music, art, performance and an 'unexpected surprise or two' — all set to the theme of a twisted, dark last supper. Dessert royalty Anna Polyviou, MasterChef Australia's Sarah Tiong, Claire Van Vuuren from Bloodwood and Bart Jr's George Woodyard are preparing the four-course meal, which'll be served up alongside wine by Hunter Valley's Lisa McGuigan. The exact nature of the performance, art and music is still under wraps for now, but you can expect it to be big, bold and breathtaking. Heaps Gay Creator and Sydney Mardi Gras Creative Director Kat Dopper is looking after the whole shebang, while DJ duo Stereogamous, who describe themselves as 'the gayest band since The Village People', is overseeing the tunes. You can pick from two sittings (1–4pm and 7–10pm), and donning a twisted, dark fancy dress outfit — think black, lace and lots of leather — is encouraged.
Summer's around the corner and so is the 12th Annual Bondi Film Festival this Saturday, November 24 at the Bondi Pavillion. The festival has announced its panel of judges, which is jam packed with talented directors and performers, including Noni Hazlehurst, Christiaan Van Vuuren, Jessica Tovey, Kristy Best, Dr. Ruth Harley and Andrew McFarlane. The festival screens 100% Australian content and has attracted over 3,000 entries over the past 12 years. The festival has reached cult status amongst indie filmmakers and fans as it shines the spotlight on local and up-and-coming creatives. Fourteen festival finalists will go head to head for a prize pool valued at over $10,000 including a return flight to North America. Doors open for the matinee session at 2pm and screenings begins at 3pm. Concrete Playground has five double passes to give away to the matinee session of the Bondi Short Film Festival. To go in the running, just subscribe to Concrete Playground (if you haven't already) then email hello@concreteplayground.com.au
It begins with an ad in the classifieds: "Wanted: Somebody to go back in time with me. This is not a joke. You'll get paid after we get back. Must bring your own weapons. I have only done this once before. Safety not guaranteed." Anyone who's ever seen Craigslist knows that's pretty much par for the course, but for sleazy magazine writer Jeff (Jake M. Johnson), it throws up two irresistible opportunities: an amusing puff piece during an otherwise slow news week, and a chance to hook up with an old flame living in the same town from where it was placed. He selects two interns, the dour Darius (Aubrey Plaza) and studious Arnau (Karan Soni), and together they head off to the beachside community of Ocean View to track down the advert's mysterious author. That man turns out to be Kenneth Calloway (Mark Duplass): an awkward loner and paranoid grocery story clerk who's convinced he's cracked the secret of quantum-mechanical travel. When Jeff's cynicism sees him immediately rejected as a possible partner, it falls to Darius to befriend the man based on her boss's logic that since they're both weird, perhaps they'll get along. And as it turns out, eccentric outsiders do attract just as powerfully as opposites. Darius quickly warms to Kenneth's tender idiosyncrasies, even as questions over his mental stability linger, and by the time the film builds to its inevitable climax in which Kenneth's time machine has its moment of truth, you come to realise you no longer even care if it works. Like 2012's other sci-fi hit Looper, this is a time-travel movie where the time travel is entirely incidental to the storyline and characters. Just as Looper explored the 'what' of the concept (what consequences might time travel bring, intended or otherwise?), Safety Not Guaranteed asks 'why?'. Why would you go back, assuming you could, and why yearn for second chances when new and possibly better opportunities keep showing up right in front of you? Regret, of course, is the answer, and it's what drives each of the film's four principals, from Kenneth's literal time travel to Jeff's symbolic one — seeking out his high school sweetheart in the hope of recapturing faded former glories. It's a film of excellent performances all round, but Plaza offers the standout. Her disillusioned 20-something shtick initially plays like a cut-and-paste job from Parks and Recreation; however, she imbues Darius with an unexpected depth and warmth that utterly enchants. Duplass is also fantastic, making Kenneth feel somehow terribly familiar for a person we've almost certainly never met. Soni and Johnson provide fine supporting performances, and all four characters develop wonderfully over the 85 minutes in a testament to the actors and screenwriter alike. Safety Not Guaranteed is an inspired and heartwarming tale that's almost certainly the surprise indie hit of the year. https://youtube.com/watch?v=73jSnAs7mq8
Australia might be working through a few issues, but delivering top-shelf world-class cocktail bars sure ain't one of them, as again proved at last night's World's 50 Best Bars awards in London. Now in its ninth year, the prestigious awards ranked Sydney bar The Baxter Inn at number 45 in the world. Melbourne's Black Pearl came in at number 22, the same spot it claimed in 2016's list. This year, however, the bar backed it up with a few extra accolades, scooping the gong for Best Bar in Australasia and honoured with the title of Legend of the List, for its efforts in making the cut each year the awards have been held. Taking out top spot, along with the title of Best Bar in Europe, was The American Bar at London's Savoy Hotel. This is a win for us Aussies also — the international cocktail icon just announced it'll take over The Black Pearl and Sydney's Eau De Vie for a series of pop-ups later this month. London again proved the most represented city in the list, honoured with eight top 50 placings. The World's 50 Best Bars awards is voted by a group of over 500 industry experts from across 55 countries.
A cinema plays a key part in Twisters. Frankenstein flickers across its screen, but mother nature proves not only more of a monster, but also an audience member worse than folks who can't manage to spend two hours in a darkened room without their phones. There's a knowing air to featuring a picture palace in this disaster-flick sequel from Minari director Lee Isaac Chung and The Boys in the Boat screenwriter Mark L Smith, reminding viewers how deeply this genre and this format are linked. Almost three decades ago, as co-penned by Michael Crichton fresh off Jurassic Park's mammoth success, 1996's Twister packed movie theatres worldwide to the tune of nearly half-a-billion dollars, doing so with a spectacle. No matter if its sequel reaches the same heights at the box office globally, it too delivers better-on-the-big-screen sights, chief among them Chung and cinematographer Dan Mindel's (Star Wars: Episode IX — The Rise of Skywalker) naturalistic imagery. For those unaware going in that the filmmaker behind six-time Oscar contender Minari — a helmer who received a Best Director Academy Award nomination for his gorgeous and heartfelt work, in fact — is also steering Twisters, it isn't hard to guess from its look, including in its opening moments alone. The movie begins with storm chasers doing what they enthusiastically do. It also kicks off with a horror turn of events thanks to a tornado that exceeds their expectations, and with the crew's survivors afterwards struggling with trauma that'll later drive them forward. In these scenes and beyond, this isn't a picture of visual gloss and sheen, as witnessed right down to its lighting. Twisters remains polished, of course. It also can't tell its tale without CGI. But a choice as pivotal as valuing a genuine aesthetic tonef over a gleaming one has a massive impact. Usually gifted at reading where a whirlwind is headed, hailing from Tornado Alley and introduced with her college pals attempting to demonstrate that her passion project can tame superstorms, Kate Carter (Daisy Edgar-Jones, Where the Crawdads Sing) makes it out of the Twisters' first big tempest alive. Five years later when the feature swiftly picks up, she has swapped field work for sitting behind a New York desk as a meteorologist, however. Then her old friend Javi (Anthony Ramos, Dumb Money) tracks her down with a proposal: return to Oklahoma by his side, with his business using portable radars to scan the squalls. She's hesitant — her efforts to avoid going home have been keenly felt by her mother (Maura Tierney, The Iron Claw), too — but eventually agrees to lend her skills in predicting tornado paths to Javi's team for a single week. As Kate quickly learns, wild swirls aren't just associated with the weather when she's back rushing after gales with the wind literally in her hair. Javi's ultra-professional squad has a fierce rivalry with cowboy-style "tornado wrangler" Tyler Owens (Glen Powell, Hit Man) and his ragtag posse of offsiders, who YouTube their every move, have a hefty online following as a result, sling merchandise with his face on it, seem as cavalier as anyone can come and are eager to discover if they can shoot fireworks into a storm. If it initially appears as if there's an experts-versus-amateurs, experience-versus-influencers battle at the heart of Twisters, Chung and Smith never skew that simplistic. Rather, one of their themes is valuing knowledge but not gatekeeping or snap judgements — and, as its debut twister reinforces from the outset, recognising the importance of diving beyond first perceptions. Vortexes wow, threaten and devastate. Opposites-attract type characters do exactly that. Not everyone's motives are what they might seem. Personal histories demand overcoming as much as the gusty uproars spiralling around America's centre. Those expected plot mechanics don't play out perfunctorily, though, for a few reasons. The story behind the script is credited to Powell's Top Gun: Maverick director Joseph Kosinski, who was previously eyed to helm here — and while there's a few familiar beats evident in the last flick in cinemas boasting his involvement and this one, a different need for speed pulses through, as well as a different contemplation of soaring versus being grounded. In what shouldn't feel like such a rarity for a disaster film but does given where the genre typically heads, Twisters also cares about its figures, the sense of awe that gets them bounding into danger, the clash between the environment and those who live within it, the effect of climate change, the human toll that tornadoes wreak, the communities affected and intimate stories set shaped by America's landscape. While Twister isn't the only movie that springs to mind when thinking about Helen Hunt (Hacks) and the late Bill Paxton (The Circle), it's up there with the instant selections. Edgar-Jones, Ramos and Powell each enter Twisters on recent rolls of standout roles that respectively cover Normal People, In the Heights and Anyone But You, and all add this to their list of memorable parts. Matching Chung's approach and visuals, there's an earthiness and sincerity to Edgar-Jones' performance as the movie's haunted and wounded action hero. Ramos, as innately charming an on-screen presence as Powell, ensures that his complicated character is always empathetic. Dialling up the swagger, then the charisma and thoughtfulness, Powell equally navigates a textured arc with confidence. Albeit in support — and adding flavour as a group more than individually — the film's savvy casting also extends to The Crowded Room's Sasha Lane, Love Lies Bleeding's Katy O'Brian, Nope's Brandon Perea, Pantheon's Tunde Adebimpe, Totally Killer's Kiernan Shipka, Bad Sisters' Daryl McCormack and Pearl's David Corenswet. Making certain that Twisters' spinning furores don't blow its people, their emotions and their everyday lives away — including when that's a grimly inescapable element of the narrative, because disaster movies always have a body count — still requires those tempests to thunder with full cinema-shaking sound and fury. Getting personal here isn't a case of skimping on effects, then, even if cows don't fly this time. Instead, Chung adds his clear affection for character, for seeing his main players react to the wonders around them Spielberg-style (the iconic The Fabelmans filmmaker is an executive producer), and for portraying the US terrain so routinely ravaged by the weather to digital and practical wizardry that values the sensory and intense (as also aided by editing from Terilyn A Shropshire, The Woman King). No one wants a storm to strike twice, but this franchise has achieved it — and as gets yelled within its frames, does its utmost to notch up another feat. "We've gotta get everyone into the movie theatre," it shouts; that's exactly where this flick is a sight to behold.
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
The past 12 months have been extra light on dance floor action, but boy have we found the perfect way for you to get back into the swing of it now that making shapes is back. Best loosen up those muscles for the ultimate underwater dance party, happening among the fishies at Sea Life Sydney. On Friday, April 23, the aquarium is teaming up with the folks from Silent Sounds to host an after-hours silent disco in its stunning Reef Theatre, complete with 360-degree close-up views of all that ocean life in action. You'll find yourself shimmying with the sharks and moonwalking with manta rays, soundtracked by your pick of tunes played through headphones. And with three resident DJs spinning a mix of fresh hits and classic jams, there'll be dance-friendly sounds for every taste. Before the grooving gets under way, you'll get 45 minutes to explore the aquarium after dark, take some happy snaps in the photo booth and enjoy a few libations at the pop-up bar. Tickets are $50 per person, which includes a drink on arrival, after-hours aquarium access and all three hours enjoying the silent disco shenanigans. [caption id="attachment_805837" align="alignnone" width="1920"] Images: Silent Sounds[/caption]
A trip to Potts Point Vintage is like stepping back in time. As well as the menswear and womenswear you'd expect (unusually for a vintage store, there's a roughly 50/50 split), you can find taxidermy, too — and sometimes furniture and oil paintings. It's little wonder that the store, owned by fashion obsessive Arnold Kieldgaard, regularly supplies items to the Australian film industry for scenes looking to get that period feel just right. Whether you're trawling for designer heels, historic couture or — the store's specialty — a vintage wedding dress, the treasure trove that is Potts Point Vintage is sure to provide, from the 19th century onwards. Images: Kitti Smallbone
UPDATE, January 29, 2021: Joker is available to stream via Amazon Prime Video, Foxtel Now, Google Play, YouTube and iTunes. Lonely, isolated and struggling with a lifetime of trauma, a man exorcises his demons through violence. Plagued by troubling memories and mental health issues, but devoted to caring for his ailing mother, he finds catharsis in wreaking havoc on others. When Joaquin Phoenix played this part to perfection in Lynne Ramsay's You Were Never Really Here, he explored the burdens of a crusading hitman who rescued violated children — saving them from the pain he still suffered, and punishing the abusers who treat kids as carelessly as he once was himself. And while he steps into similar shoes in Joker, the exceptional actor is now on a completely different mission, crossing the threshold from noble vigilante to deranged villain. It's impossible to watch Joker without thinking about You Were Never Really Here; by casting Phoenix as Arthur Fleck, the man who becomes one of Batman's worst enemies, that's an intended effect. It's impossible to see director Todd Phillips' (The Hangover) take on Gotham's clown prince of crime without thinking of Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy as well. Phillips cakes his influences on thick and, if the connection wasn't already apparent in the film's 70s look and feel, he also enlists Robert De Niro as Arthur's favourite television host. It's a purposeful move, filtering one of popular culture's most infamous antagonists through such blatant touchstones — and, it ensures that viewers won't be contemplating the character's past guises, be it Cesar Romero's TV version, Jack Nicholson's unhinged late-80s spin, Heath Ledger's Oscar-winning portrayal or Jared Leto's cartoonish work in Suicide Squad. Focusing audiences firmly on the Joker at hand, this origin story asks a probing question: if the world's ills were to shove a tormented man over the edge in a volatile socio-political climate, what would that look like? In other words, how would You Were Never Really Here play out if its assassin killed to avenge a cruel, uncaring city's failings, rather than protect its victims? Or, what shape would Taxi Driver take if its cabbie was a bullied clown-for-hire? Phillips stops short of lifting the latter movie's dialogue, but it's easy to imagine Arthur uttering one of Taxi Driver's well-known lines: "here is a man who would not take it anymore". First seen grinning into a mirror as he puts on his makeup (and signalling the film's allegiance with his fraying mindset in the process), Arthur doesn't have much to smile about. He's beaten by street punks on the job, loses his mental health care due to citywide budget cuts and watches his mother (Frances Conroy) fruitlessly try to contact her ex-employer turned mayoral candidate, aka billionaire Thomas Wayne (Brett Cullen). An aspiring comedian, Arthur is also taunted and jeered whenever he steps onstage. Basically, his life is one huge kick in the face after another. But his mum has always told him that he was put on this earth to spread joy and happiness, which he takes to heart. As Gotham descends into riots and widespread violence, Arthur finds a drastic way to put this belief into action. When Joker isn't shoehorning in undoubtedly necessary but still distracting Batman references (including yet another re-do of a scene that's been done to death), it just keeps inspiring questions. Is Arthur an inevitable product of a crumbling city that's failed its citizens in general, and its most vulnerable in particular? Or, clinging to his downtrodden status, does he capitalise upon his powder-keg surroundings, using it to excuse his psychopathic behaviour and demand that he's finally paid the attention he's certain he deserves? Penning a deliberately thorny narrative, Phillips and co-writer Scott Silver (The Fighter) keep both of these perspectives in their sights. Alas, the pair sometime struggle to juggle the opposing notions, or to flesh them out beyond the obvious. Indeed, for all the controversy that Joker has sparked since it nabbed the top prize at this year's Venice Film Festival, it's mostly happy to stick to the murky middle ground. The movie paints a thoroughly nightmarish image of modern-day capitalism and its devastating imprint on the 99 percent — one that instantly rings true — but remains content to dance along its surface rather than burrow meaningfully into its dark heart. Specifically, it calls out the conditions that lead to the Joker's rise, yet never quite decides if it's condemning, celebrating or commiserating with him. Joker is unflinchingly bold and brilliant in one inescapable fashion, though, as it was bound to be when it cast its lead. All skin, bone and sinew as he cavorts, frolics and chortles, Phoenix is in stunning, mesmerising, awards-worthy form yet again. His raspy cackle isn't easily forgotten; neither is his off-kilter demeanour, whether Arthur is connecting with his neighbour (Zazie Beetz), taking a stand against the latest folks to push his buttons or leaning as far into his crazed impulses as possible. When, towards the end of the film, Lawrence Sher's (Godzilla: King of the Monsters) textured cinematography peers up at Phoenix as he struts down some stairs, its hypnotised gaze doesn't feel out of place. In fact, it feels natural. That said, that the scene is accompanied by 'Rock and Roll, Part 2' by convicted sex offender Gary Glitter says much about a movie that's often as thematically muddled as it is emotionally and visually striking. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gr-Lg-_KFHU
More than three decades since it was first published, the Watchmen series of comics is still considered one of the all-time greats of the medium. Brought to the page by writer Alan Moore and artist Dave Gibbons, the premise says plenty: in an alternative version of the world we all live in, superheroes definitely exist — but their presence has drastically altered history. Here, the Cold War turned out differently, caped crusaders largely work for the government and anyone else enforcing law and order while wearing a costume has been outlawed. Now, imagine that tale told with a satirical edge that deconstructs the superhero phenomenon, and you can see why it has hordes of devotees. Back in 2009 when comic book flicks were just starting to pick up steam — and when 23-film franchises were a mere dream — Watchmen was turned into a movie by Zack Snyder (who was fresh from 300, but hadn't made the jump to Batman v Superman or Justice League yet). Sequels clearly didn't follow; however, HBO is now hoping that the story will flourish on the small screen, enlisting Lost and The Leftovers co-creator Damon Lindelof to make it happen. Obviously, with Game of Thrones all done and dusted (at least until its prequels start hitting the screen), the network is in the market for a new pop culture phenomenon. This isn't just a straight adaptation. Apparently the ten-part series "embraces the nostalgia of the original groundbreaking graphic novel of the same name while attempting to break new ground of its own," according to HBO. If you're wondering just how that'll play out, the program's trailers might help. Building on the first teaser from a few months back, the latest trailer serves up murky mysteries, complicated heroes and villains, and a fine line between the two — plus "a vast and insidious conspiracy". To help bring the above to the small screen, Watchmen boasts quite the stacked cast, which includes Jeremy Irons, Don Johnson, Tim Blake Nelson, this year's Best Supporting Actress Oscar winner Regina King, Hong Chau, Louis Gossett Jr and Aussie actress Adelaide Clemens. The big names don't stop there, with Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross providing the score. Check out the new trailer below: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-33JCGEGzwU Watchmen launches on October 21, Australian and New Zealand time — with the series airing weekly from that date on Foxtel in Australia. Image: Mark Hill/HBO
Rosebery’s Kitchen By Mike has been a revelation with its back-to-basics food, which uses radical simplicity and topnotch ingredients to great effect. They host this event, where the affable Mike teams with Grant (Three Blue Ducks) and Matt (Hands Lane) teach you how to make your own jams and preserves. Throw in live music and a charcuterie dinner and it sounds like a winner. Check out the rest of our top ten picks of Good Food Month here.
Former Chocolate Factory resident Mark Gerada's new exhibition at Gaffa has two themes. One is the almost post-natal sadness that descends on you after you stage an exhibition. The other is an unreal tint of blue he saw while swimming in a sea-cave in the island of Gozo, off his ancestral Malta. Malta itself has layers of history, settled one over the other like sheathes of glass. In Post Exhibition Blues, Mark Geraba uses his own overlapping shades to describe the ethereal glow of both these blues. Seeing bones in them at first is not uncommon. But they are not meant to be bones. There is light. Light of all kinds, pushing and pulsing and overlapping with defined edges and hard glass-like form. A gallery of candle shapes. Eyes. Stars. Blue waveforms. What seems to be a lithe blue figure is a current of water. A sub-antarctic iceberg stands for nothingness. And what at first were hooded monks are metaphors for movement and more intimate things. Almost at the end, you meet the cave with some little specks of light leading to its rocky mouth. The three big canvasses on the far wall are the disappointing moment. All through the exhibition, these wonderful paintings have begged to be huge. But the three large canvases are an anti-climax — not triumphant moments, just ice-blue lights and twin foci. In the Exhibition's notes, Gerada claims the abstract influence of Malevich. But the paintings bring the work of Malevich’s rival Kandisky equally to mind. Although it could have done with more of Kandinsky’s oversize scale, Gerada seems to have some of the same sense of warmth — despite the coolness of the mood, and his work’s calm watery stillness. Image by Mark Gerada.
It's been an interesting year for zombies. Not that they'd know — I mean they're zombies, but still. On television, they've been stabbed, shot, crushed, burned, shredded, stomped on and driven over by the characters of The Walking Dead. In film, though, they've been loved by a cute girl (Warm Bodies) and will soon have their own police force (RIPD). So for director Marc Forster (Quantum of Solace), World War Z represented an opportunity to make zombies scary again... and help people forget about Quantum of Solace. Based on the novel by Max Brooks (Mel's son), World War Z follows the traditional zombification of earth via an unknown contagion. The rapidity of the contagion's spread is matched only by humanity's descent into anarchy, and both are disturbing in their separate ways. Caught in the middle is former UN investigator Gerry (Brad Pitt) and his family. After an initial and harrowing escape to an aircraft carrier, Gerry agrees to seek out the contagion's 'patient zero' in exchange for his family being kept safe. It's the perfect device for introducing the personal element into the story without having to lug the family around in every scene and slow things down. Touché, writers. Touché. Early on in the piece, Gerry advises a terrified family that "movement is life", and it proves helpful advice both for the characters and the film. World War Z is a fast-paced, globetrotting adventure from start to finish; one in which even the zombies are fleet of foot. Only two countries - North Korea and Israel - seem to be managing the crisis (albeit by radically different methods), and the jet-setting between those and other locations allows for some spectacular set pieces. Sitting on just an M-rating, World War Z does well to maintain the scare factor despite the lack of gore, and the 3D is cleverly (and sparingly) used to add greater dimension to the large-scale action sequences. Pitt's performance is largely understated and, if anything, could have used a touch more fear given the enormity and horror of the crisis around him. Still, he looks the part and brings some quality star power to this impressive genre-piece. https://youtube.com/watch?v=4EC7P5WdUko
La Traviata is billed as part opera, part protest, part drag show. One wonders whether a simpler approach might have helped the Sisters Grimm land a few more of their punches. Okay, full disclosure: I’m no opera fan. In answer to any question regarding Giuseppe Verdi’s 17th-century opera, I will readily give the same reply I give to any enquiry about any opera from any era: “Oh yes. That’s the one with the viking helmets, isn’t it?” That said, this latest offering from queer theatre collective Sisters Grimm, while entertaining in parts, feels quite confused about what it is trying to achieve. La Traviata (directed and co-created by Declan Greene) is a ‘plundering of the canon’ which takes one of the most frequently performed operas in Australia and uses it as a lens through which to examine the state of the arts. A (literal) paint-by-numbers backdrop, an unironed sky-tarp, an inflatable swan and bouquet-adorned exercise balls are part of a set design by Marg Horwell that, in addition to some fabulously bizarre period costuming (also by Horwell), turn Downstairs Belvoir into a garage sale sanctioned by Queen Victoria. Satire and parody obviously play a large part in proceedings (don’t take my word for it — ask the giraffe). Both the operatic form and the excesses of major Australian arts companies are skewered. But for a show relying so heavily on Verdi’s source material to frame, among other things, debates about Australian arts funding, there is surprisingly little effort expended to situate the audience within this narrative. Unlike, say, Mel Brooks’ Robin Hood: Men in Tights, which retells the famous myth with frequent comedic pit-stops, here, a couple of sentences quickly scrolling across a small, wall-mounted screen at the start of each act provide little context for the deconstruction that follows. Pacing also becomes an issue once we get into the back end. The first half is manic, bursting with energy and comedy. But the transition to a relatively sober second half is a rough one. The stage is stripped, of props and verve, and an audience Q&A session feels vaguely like an admission of defeat. Michael Lewis’s finale is impressive, but after the thorough razzing of opera that we’ve just witnessed (can Emma Maye Gibson’s transformation from opera singer to ape really be read any other way?), it seems disingenuous to hope that an audience would appreciate its beauty. The cast — Ash Flanders, Emma Maye Gibson, Michael Lewis and Zindzi Okenyo — all work feverishly throughout the show. But ultimately La Traviata doesn’t feel like it has its hooks deep enough in Verdi’s work or the political issues to really make it sing.
Sales are meant to start after Christmas. Which is well and good if you give presents on Epiphany (a.k.a. Twelfth Night), and hoping nobody cottons on thank you very much. But a trio of Sydney designers aren't content to stick to tradition, and insist on giving you your Boxing Day joy a little early. This collection of designers have put a collection of their collections on sale at the basement at District 01 to catch your eyes and tempt your wallet. The Xmas Store is a pop-up shop featuring all three designers for four short days on the edge of Darlinghurst. The androgynously inclined Frederich Gray will be stocked as well as the stars of this year's 101 Dalmatians State Theatre photo-shoot, Romance Was Born. Their stark lines and plush excesses will be out alongside Mel Keir's deftly cut Jemma Jube swimwear. You can rummage around in these designer's virtual stores, but for a few days you can get up-close and personal for the full, tactile experience.
Lengthy is the list of Australian actors who've started their careers on home soil, then boosted their fame, acclaim and fortunes by heading abroad. Some have won Oscars. Others are global household names. One plays a pigtailed comic book villain in a big film franchise, while another dons a cape and wields a hammer in a competing blockbuster saga. David Gulpilil doesn't earn any of the above descriptions, and he isn't destined to. It wouldn't interest him, anyway. His is the face of Australian cinema, though, and has been for half a century. Since first gracing the silver screen in Nicolas Roeg's Walkabout, the Yolŋu man has gifted his infectious smile and the irrepressible glint in his eye to many of the nation's most important movies. Indeed, to peruse his filmography is to revel in Aussie cinema history. On his resume, 70s classics such as Mad Dog Morgan and The Last Wave sit alongside everything from Crocodile Dundee and Rabbit-Proof Fence to Australia, Goldstone and Cargo — as well as parts in both the first 1976 film adaptation of Storm Boy and its 2019 remake. The latest film to benefit from the Indigenous talent's presence: My Name Is Gulpilil. It might just be the last do to so, however. That sad truth has been baked into the documentary ever since its subject asked director Molly Reynolds and producer Rolf de Heer — two filmmakers that Gulpilil has collaborated with before, including on Another Country, Charlie's Country, Ten Canoes and The Tracker — to make something with him after he was diagnosed with stage-four lung cancer. That was back in 2017, when he was given just six months to live. Gulpilil has been proving that diagnosis wrong ever since. This heartfelt portrait of an Australian icon like no other also benefits from his defiance, particularly in practical terms. Initially starting out as a 30-day shoot, the doco eventually extended over twice that period, with Gulpilil, Reynolds and their movie alike all given the most precious thing there is: more time. The film that results celebrates a star who'll never be matched, and reminds viewers exactly why that's the case — but My Name Is Gulpilil isn't a mere easy, glossy tribute. Anyone could've combined snippets of Gulpilil's movies with talking heads singing his praises. In the future, someone probably will. But Reynolds is interested in truly spending time with Gulpilil, hearing his tale in his own words, and painting as complete a portrait of his life, work, dreams, regrets, spirit, culture and impact as possible. Accordingly, this touching feature steps through Gulpilil's highs and lows as relayed by the man himself. It spends much of its duration enjoying simply being with dancer, painter and actor, in fact. It surveys his daily routine in Murray Bridge in South Australia, too, where he now lives with a carer so that he can get western medicine's help. It also follows him to appointments, then watches on as he weathers his treatments. In her thoughtful, contemplative, affectionate and astute approach, Reynolds lets her audience peer deeply and listen intently. Her film favours soaking, basking and ruminating over clapping and cheering, and it was always going to be all the better for it. Marking and commemorating Gulpilil's many achievements is important, and his feats should and will rightly be remembered and saluted — but even the most vivid collection of clips and most enthusiastic rundown of his awards and other successes can only convey part of his story. There's just nothing like just passing the minutes with Gulpilil, especially when he stares directly at the camera, dives into his memories and unleashes one of his many sprawling but powerful tales. There's also nothing like facing him, taking in all that he's done for Aussie cinema and Indigenous representation, and simultaneously confronting the fact that he's unlikely to brighten up our screens again. My Name Is Gulpilil is many things, including a clear-eyed picture of a man trying to navigate terminal cancer and everything that comes with it — and it doesn't shy away from that reality at any turn. Just as moving and pivotal is its commitment to showing Gulpilil's approach to the end that awaits us all. By choosing to live in Murray Bridge to undergo treatment, he chooses to live away from Country, a decision that visibly haunts him. So, he prepares for what he describes as a one-way ticket home by planning. He spins his hair into fibre, and talks through the ceremony that will farewell both his body and spirit. For Reynolds, he poses in a coffin beneath unspooled reels of film. There's playfulness in the latter image, but such a forthright approach to death never comes as a surprise. When My Name Is Gulpilil addresses Gulpilil's time in the long grass, his run-ins with the law and his addictions, mentioning them alongside his trip to Cannes, meeting with the Queen, and interactions with everyone from Muhammad Ali to Bob Marley, the film is similarly frank and unflinching. My Name Is Gulpilil does still feature glimpses of its namesake's movies, of course. Given the wealth of material at hand — spanning plenty of the aforementioned titles, plus plenty more — no ode to Gulpilil would be complete without clips here and there. Just as Reynolds ensures that her audience genuinely takes in his inimitable presence, his culture, his health, and his ups and downs, she finds poetic ways to segue from archival and film footage to present-day scenes and back, putting them all to the most meaningful use. With editor Tania Nehme's (ShoPaapaa) considerable help, this documentary proves an act of cinematic weaving, rather than unfurling. It knows when to watch Gulpilil and an emu walk the same dusty path, when quiet reflection from the man himself is in order, and when snippets of his candour and charm from his 2004 one-man autobiographical stage show are needed instead. It's also well aware that no one will ever get the chance to make this movie again, and that only a film of astounding intimacy, honesty and insight could ever do the face of Australian cinema justice. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vK1DLvEkvtA&feature=emb_logo
In a poor UK village, two school-aged friends realise they can make money by finding discarded metal and selling it to a local scrap dealer. The more obsessed they get with finding valuable materials, the more dangerous their quest becomes. It's almost impossible to describe this film without making it sound like a bleak slog, so now that we're done with the story summary, let's get to the meat of it: The Selfish Giant is one of the best films of the year: captivating, often funny, and filled with the most naturalistic performances you're likely to see. The two kids at the heart of the story are so damn good, it's worth seeing for them alone. But everything in this film works, and we're presented with a view of a tough working class that seems accessible, familiar and genuine, regardless of your own social background. The film is directed by one of the UK's most fascinating filmmakers, Clio Barnard. Her debut feature The Arbor in 2010 was unlike anything you've ever seen before. Not quite a documentary, not quite a dramatised narrative, it challenged the idea of how stories can and should be told. Barnard is one of the few filmmakers working who seems to be reinventing film in a way that feels tremendously exciting. Barnard based the two main characters of The Selfish Giant on children she met while filming The Arbor, so it's a little curious that she named one of the kids 'Arbor'. Is there a deeper meaning there? The story claims to be partly based on Oscar Wilde's short story of the same name, a fantasy about a giant who tries to keep children out of his yard. It looks like it's a million miles away from Barnard's social realist film, but Wilde's fable is key in understanding the depths behind much of the film. It is by no means necessary — on its own, the film is a complete, satisfying experience — but by hinting at a deeper connection to literature beyond the walls of the cinema, Barnard again expands a straightforward story into something more exciting. At a tight 91 minutes, Bernard wastes no time, giving us an incredible character tale that other filmmakers might take twice as long to accomplish. Be sure to see it. https://youtube.com/watch?v=qPLRZrMflG4
One of the UK's most versatile and interesting directors, Michael Winterbottom, is a hard man to pigeonhole. Teaming again with Steve Coogan, whom he collaborated with on 24 Hour Party People and the wonderful The Trip, his latest is a biopic of Paul Raymond, the controversial figure who became the 'King of Soho', pulling crowds with risque theatre at his nightclub and successfully branching out into the world of magazines with his bestselling lad's mag, Men Only. The action opens with a shaken Raymond (Coogan) pondering tragic events involving his daughter and driving around the district of London he rules with a small child, pointing out the business he owns, markers not just of his great wealth but also his striving for respectability. His rise was marked by his audacity and knack for turning setbacks to his advantage — when a newspaper condemns one of his theatrical productions for including "arbitrary displays of naked flesh", he slaps the quote on the promotional poster as a selling point. After leaving his family for his mistress, Richmond finds himself on the wrong end of an expensive divorce settlement ("I think you'll find it's the most expensive divorce settlement in UK history" he corrects reporters), but remains focused on empire building. Along the way he reconnects with his daughter Debbie (an excellent Imogen Poots), whose ambitions of stardom are not accommodated by the public and whose frail confidence is boosted by lashings of champagne and cocaine. Moving from the swinging sixties to the darker onset of disco, Raymond continues to show an unerring sense for what the public want and gleefully pushes the boundaries with his magazines and live shows. He intuited what the public wanted was a taste of his hedonistic, womanising lifestyle. Yet behind the glamorous facade, there was a melancholy underside to his life, with Raymond's inability to let go of his humble beginnings and his unusual relationship with his daughter forming the wounded heart of this impressive biopic. Impeccable in its period detail and scored by the sweeping melodrama of Burt Bacharach songs, The Look of Love gives the always watchable Coogan meaty, complex material to wrestle with. Some will be disappointed at the way it brushes over the darker corners of his porn empire; Raymond had a way of deflecting difficult questions that the film also uses. Whether Raymond deserves such a sympathetic biography is debatable, but there is no questioning the aplomb with which Coogan and Winterbottom have brought this contradictory and ultimately quite sad figure to life. https://youtube.com/watch?v=t3OxrgrD0VI
Word around film circles is that a sequel to Tim Burton's 80s hit Beetlejuice is on its way, and that Wednesday favourite Jenna Ortega is in line for a key role. That's great news for future filmgoers; however, if you're looking for an eerie (and amusing) night at the movies now, horror event fiends Haus of Horror have a solution: a screening of the OG Beetlejuice in a cemetery. Already in March, Haus of Horror has unleashed The Exorcist in a haunted prison with a session at Parramatta Gaol. But that's just one event on the crew's list for 2023. The next jumps forward a decade with its picture choice, gets silly and goes all in on Burton doing what Burton became a famous filmmaker for doing — loving all things spooky and strange — this time at Camperdown Cemetery in Newtown. You don't need a Handbook for the Recently Deceased in your ghostly hands to head along, but you will spend time with a couple with one: Barbara and Adam Maitland (GLOW's Geena Davis and Dr Death's Alec Baldwin). And, you'll see what happens when they start to suspect that they're no longer alive, a new family moves into their house (including Schitt's Creek's Catherine O'Hara and Stranger Things' Winona Ryder) and they decide they need a 'bio-exorcist' (Michael Keaton, Morbius). There's obviously no better place to show this flick, and Haus of Horror are leaning in for the first instalment in their new Graveyard Nights series. There are no prizes for guessing where it'll be screening movies each time this event pops up, starting at 6pm on Saturday, March 25. Also on the agenda: a cemetery tour to kick things off, plus a DJ spinning tunes over sunset, and spots for a bite and a drink. Also, there'll be a photobooth for snaps with Beetlejuice, the usual movie snack range including popcorn, and The Betelspritz Bar pouring non-boozy beverages such as The Miss Argentina (made with green apple sweet syrup, lemonade, grenadine and fresh cherries), The Lydia (grenadine, lemonade, black tea sweet syrup and fresh strawberries) and The Ghost with the Most (black tea sweet syrup again, lemonade, grenadine, green apple sweet syrup and strawberries). Come 8pm, the film will play — and if you'd prefer to pack a picnic, that's also encouraged. You'll also want to bring blankets, pillows and lawn chairs (low ones so you don't block out the view for whoever sits behind you) for getting comfy. Tickets cost $39, or $59 if you'd like to book a large bean bag to sit on. One caveat: attendees are asked to be respectful of the site, including its headstones, trees and buildings.
2019 marks the 50th anniversary of the moon landing, and at Sydney Festival 2019, there'll be a whole heap of ways to celebrate the occasion. As we commemorate the gents who first traipsed across the lunar surface, it's not a bad opportunity to think back on a few of the earlier Apollo missions. Remember Apollo 3, the unmanned mission to test whether or not NASA could successfully restart the ship's engines? Or Apollo 7, the first live TV broadcast from space? No, we don't either. The truth is, during the space race, a whole bunch of people did a whole bunch of crazy things to pave the way for the Armstrong/Aldrin moonwalk. To recognise these lesser-known space odysseys, SydFest has commissioned 11 cosmos-themed works for Barangaroo. With a combination of sculpture, interactive installations and roaming performers, this is a great chance to delve into some of the leaps that made Neil's 'small step' possible 50 years ago. Apollo 11 is part of Sydney Festival's dramatic and diverse 2019 program. Check out the full lineup here.
It's not everyday that you hear the words 1000 litre pool, inner-city backyard and theatrical garments uttered in the same sentence. Yet this is exactly what artist Meg Cowell does. Inspired by the forgotten pieces of clothing strewn about the footpath from somebody’s big night, she set about recreating these pieces of women's clothing (with the addition of couture). She did this through the use of a pool of water to allow buoyancy and an unusual method of display. They end up as illuminated pieces of fabric, which exist in blackness, with only a hint of the water that they are floating within remaining. The result is ghost-like, and the viewer is left with a tactile and emotive image. The pieces of fabric end up looking as if they are “inhabited” by bodies, with movement being created by carefully arranging the clothing with balloons, and being sewn into place. The yellow bustle Girclee print Lens Mist in particular took a few days to position before it was able to be photographed with such a long exposure. While shooting this series, Cowell, who graduated with honours in photography from the University of Tasmania in 2007, had to overcome the difficulties of photographing fabrics in water in her small inner-city backyard. She says this is because the “water adds its own organic force and shifts the fabric in ways that are impossible to control. Because of this, each shot takes about a week to make.” She was “constantly up and down the scaffolding manipulating a collar or adjusting a piece of lace to be "just so". There was “also a certain aspect of mischief in my productions as many of the hired garments are 'dry clean only'," says Cowell cheekily. This added an “element of drama to my process, especially as the owners took my credit card details as bond against damage. My methods for getting around this involve a hair dryer, tissue paper and a pair of straitening irons.” Which are hardly the usual concerns for the average photographer. But luckily it paid off and no bonds were lost. See more of Meg Cowell's photography in our feature gallery.
What exactly is the best thing about Christmas? Whether your answer is the beach weather, the presents, or the simple joy of getting the family together for a summer barbecue, no-one can deny that the silly season food on offer is an enormous plus. This year, foodie precinct Saporium will be bringing the Christmas feast and all of your last-minute Christmas shopping needs to you on December 10 and 11 — coinciding with the Merry Mary Xmas version of the Rosebery Block Party happening on Sunday in the same location. The two-day holiday market will include a collaboration between Gelato Messina and Archie Rose Distilling Co., which will see the return of a childhood favourite: ice-cream spiders. Plus, special guests DJ Levins and ACME chef Mitch Orr are teaming up to combine their love of food and music for an Eats & Beats set at the VIVE Cooking School. On the Monday, visitors to the market will be offered a free tour of Archie Rose's award-winning distillery, and have the opportunity to enjoy a delicious menu including pork belly burgers by neighbours Three Blue Ducks and beers by Young Henrys. And for all of us who have yet to find that special something for our great aunt Mildreds, an enormous array of artisan gifts, trinkets and stocking-stuffers will be up for grabs from rows of stalls of emerging artists and independent brands. The market will be kicking off from 10am on both days, and kicking off late into the afternoon.
Last month felt particular steamy and uncomfortable (even for Australian summer) and it was — January was Australia's hottest month ever recorded. The Bureau of Meteorology this morning released its monthly climate summary, reporting that, for the first time ever in Australia, the mean temperature for a month exceeded 30 degrees. NSW, ACT, Victoria and the NT all had their hottest Januarys ever recorded, while other states had unusually hot weather and very little rain. If you're currently sitting at your desk — after running through rain in Sydney, waking up to 14 degrees in Melbourne or commuting in low-20s in Brisbane — and thinking, it didn't seem that bad, here's a quick summary of some of the weather we endured last month. The year kicked off with a country-wide heatwave, with the mercury hitting the 30s in every capital city and Canberra sweltering through four days of 40-degrees. By mid-January, the heatwave was causing record-breaking high temperatures across the country — including 48.9 in SA and high-40s across Victoria's North — with Sydney's west copping dangerously high levels of ozone gas. And, just last week, Melbourne survived its hottest day in ten years. Here's how hot our country looked at one point: https://twitter.com/BOM_au/status/1084218154782478337 Phew. We're sure you're happy to see the back of January. According to the BOM's senior climatologist Dr Andrew Watkins, the unprecedented heat was due to a "a persistent high pressure system in the Tasman sea which was blocking any cold fronts and cooler air from impacting the south of the country." Dr Watkins also said in a statement that Australia looks to continue getting hotter, too. "The warming trend which has seen Australian temperatures increase by more than 1 degree in the last 100 years also contributed to the unusually warm conditions." Unfortunately for our farmers, last month was also extremely dry. In NSW, where 100 percent of the state has been in drought, the northeast experienced one of the driest Januarys on record, while most of Victoria and Brisbane received less than 20 percent of their average January rainfall. Tasmania had its driest Jan on record and SA, which experienced some of the highest temperatures, also had very little-to-no rain — the Bureau's Adelaide city site recorded no rainfall for the month for the first time since 1957. So far, it looks like February is going to be less spicy. But if you'd rather not risk it, it might be time to book a trip to the northern hemisphere. Image: Visit Victoria.
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
When the Scream franchise posed the question it'll forever be known for, it skipped over a key word. Ghostface is clearly asking "do you like watching scary movies?", given the entire point of frightening flicks is seeing their thrills and chills, and being creeped out, entertained or both. We all know that's what the mask-wearing killer means, of course, but the act of viewing is such a crucial part of the horror-film equation that it's always worth overtly mentioning. Enter new slasher standout X, which splashes its buckets of viscera and gore across the screen with as much nodding and winking as the Scream pictures — without ever uttering that iconic phrase, though, and thankfully in a far less smug fashion than 2022's fifth instalment in that series — and firmly thrusts cinema's voyeuristic tendencies to the fore. That name, X, doesn't simply mark a spot; it isn't by accident that the film takes its moniker from the classification given to the most violent and pornographic movies made. This is a horror flick set amid a porn shoot, after all, and it heartily embraces the fact that people like to watch from the get-go. Swaggering producer Wayne (Martin Henderson, The Gloaming), aspiring starlet Maxine Minx (Mia Goth, Emma), old-pro fellow actors Bobby-Lynne (Brittany Snow, Pitch Perfect 3) and Jackson Hole (Scott Mescudi, Don't Look Up), and arty director RJ (Owen Campbell, The Miseducation of Cameron Post) and his girlfriend/sound recorder Lorraine (Jenna Ortega, doing triple horror duty in 2022 so far in Scream, Studio 666 and now this) are counting on that truth to catapult themselves to fame. Hailing from Houston and aroused at the idea of repeating Debbie Does Dallas' success, they're heading out on the road to quieter climes to make the skin flick they're staking their futures on, and they desperately hope there's an audience. X is set in the 70s, as both the home-entertainment pornography market and big-screen slashers were beginning to blossom. As a result, it's similarly well aware that sex and death are cinema's traditional taboos, and that they'll always be linked. That's art imitating life, because sex begets life and life begets death, but rare is the recent horror movie that stresses the connection so explicitly yet playfully. Making those links is Ti West, the writer/director responsible for several indie horror gems over the past decade or so — see: cult favourites The House of the Devil and The Innkeepers — and thrusting a smart, savage and salacious delight towards his viewers here. Yes, he could've gone with The Texas Porn-Shoot Massacre for the feature's title, but he isn't remaking the obvious seminal piece of genre inspiration. In this blood-splattered throwback, which looks like it could've been unearthed from its chosen decade in every frame (and was actually filmed in New Zealand rather than Texas), West pays homage to a time when flicks like this did pop up with frequency — while slyly commenting on what's changed to shift that scenario. He also explores the process of filmmaking, of putting both sex and death on-screen, and the conversation around both, all while his characters decamp to a quiet guesthouse on a remote property where they start making the film-within-the-film that is The Farmer's Daughter. Upon arrival, gun-toting, televangelist-watching, pitchfork-wielding owner Howard (Stephen Ure, Mortal Engines) is instantly unfriendly. Wayne hasn't told him why they're really there, but he's soon snooping around to see for himself. Also keen on watching the bumping 'n' grinding is Howard's ailing wife Pearl, who he warns his guests to stay away from, but is drawn to the flesh on show. There's a genius stroke of casting in X that deserves discovering while watching, and speaks to one of the movie's other thematic obsessions. As West ponders the heyday of the type of flick he's making — and the picture within it as well — he contemplates what kinds of bodies we fetishise and find horrific. Desire and shame are flipsides of the same coin, and Pearl's lust towards her young and virile visitors contrasts with Maxine's insecurity, too, although the latter remains determined to use nature's gifts to shoot her shot. X doesn't always cut especially deep, but its musings on commodifying and worshipping youth and beauty still pierce, particularly when aided by such a committed and compelling turn by Goth, charismatic work from Henderson, Mescudi and Snow, and a crucial spurt of slipperiness from Ortega. That said, nothing carves as forcefully and gleefully as the film's many expertly staged death scenes. Knocking its pretty young things (and in Wayne's case, a tad older) off one by one, X revels in and relishes the art of depicting movie's kills. In fact, that depictions of erotica and mortality can be art is another of the film's fascinations. Viewers watch the two out of curiosity, titillation, and a mix of shock and allure, but find far more in porn and horror when they're executed with exacting eyes. Accordingly, as shot by West's frequent cinematographer Eliot Rockett — an alum of The House of the Devil and The Innkeepers as well — X's atmospheric and textured imagery makes this point inherently in all of its retro-styled glory. Every element in the movie is meticulous about its timeframe, right down to Maxine's Linda Lovelace-esque appearance, and never in the service of mere nostalgia. West's love of slow-burn horror setups also plays an influential part, teasing things out before the army of money shots. So too does his knowledge that whatever his audience imagines in their head will always be more shocking than what he commits to celluloid — yes, even with ample amounts of guts still strewn all over the place in the second half, and often. A pivotal moment about a third of the way through, and perhaps X's best, says plenty: in a lake by their cabin (because West eagerly nods to Friday the 13th also), Maxine swims while a snapping alligator closes in behind her. The film peers down on this scene patiently from above, basking in stillness as the mood turns tense, unsettling and terrifying — and serving up one helluva sight. In other words, West makes X a flick that viewers don't just want to peer at the sleaze and the nasty body count, or to see people get screwed in multiple ways, but because it's so smart, savvy and spectacularly staged while straddling and embracing that fine line between pleasure and pain. "We turn people on and that scares 'em," Bobby-Lynne says early, and it's a fitting mantra for the movie overall. And when it climaxes, it firmly leaves audiences wanting to watch more. In great post-viewing news, West has already shot a prequel called Pearl as part of a planned trilogy.
While the boilermaker might be the combination of choice for those looking to mix their grains, it's not the only way to get a fix of your favourite brew with a tasty dram. Until the end of June, Glaswegian whisky Auchentoshan (pronounced ock-un-tosh-un, for the phonetically cautious) is steering this boozy union to a clever new place, reimagining the age-old Scottish 'hauf an' a hauf', as a refreshing cocktail for the discerning scotch-sippers of today. Until the end of June, a number of joints around Sydney will be serving an Auchentoshan & Ale, which is not a beer, not a whisky, not even a boilermaker, but something refreshingly different, says brand ambassador Michael Nouri. Smooth, uniquely triple-distilled and a great whisky for cocktails, Auchentoshan American Oak complements a blend of pale ale, fresh lemon juice and sugar syrup, making one warming, yet refreshing drink. It's a new way of drinking two birds with one stone — that's how the saying goes, right? Find out where you can sip your own Auchentoshan & Ale in Sydney below. PAPA GEDE'S, CBD This CBD cocktail bar takes inspiration from the deep south of the US of A, from the witch doctors of the bayou, and offers potions and elixirs that range from rum-based tiki drinks, to refreshing juleps and absinthe mixers. With an extensive and elaborate cocktail menu, adding one more is no chore for the expert drink slingers. NORSK DOR, CBD A fairly new player on the scene, Pitt St's Norsk Dor takes its inspiration from the Scandinavian north, creating a menu that draws from Norse tradition. The bartenders are used to interesting combos, with drinks on the menu like their Danske Delight combining tequila, beetroot and citrus. And considering the warming property of whisky, the Auchentoshan & Ale slots right in with the cocktails at this cosy underground bar. SODA FACTORY, SURRY HILLS One of Sydney's favourite party haunts, Soda Factory also boasts a cocktail list that expertly twists classic drinks into fresh, new combinations. Grab a brew and ale combo while soaking in the live tunes that this bar-behind-the-hotdog-shop so lovingly provides. BITTER PHEW, DARLINGHURST No stranger to a variation of delicious drops, Darlinghurst's Bitter Phew boasts twelve taps of rotating brews and a healthy smattering of whiskies from all around the world. These expert cocktail slingers know exactly how to craft a drink with perfect balance, so the Auchentoshan & Ale is in safe hands. WEBSTER'S BAR, NEWTOWN After recently revamping their style to reflect the original hotel, Webster's in Newtown has redesigned their role in Sydney's whisky scene, as well. The cocktail bar on the middle level boasts one of the biggest collections of whiskies in town, and the cocktail list shows they know their way around a mixed drink or two. Learn more about why whisky and beer go so well together, and get yourself down to one of these Melbourne haunts for an Auchentoshan & Ale.
Speaking to all dudes who can't get dates, WINGMAN is a new exhibition that traces one Auckland man's attempts to find love in the city of Sydney. Mark O'Donnell isn't good at much, but he is an artist, so he pulled himself up by his bootstraps, chose some appropriately arty spaces to pick up (the MCA, the Biennale), and documented it all for your viewing pleasure. Was he punching above his weight? Or was he just putting himself out there? O'Donnell's efforts are apparently reminiscent of 'lekking' — the courtship ritual of the Prairie Chicken, which combines "dancing, calling, and displaying plumage". We're not sure if we're looking forward to seeing what that looks like in human form, but it's bound to be interesting. The exhibition is presented by New Zealand's Dog Park Art Project Space and features work by improvisational artist Daphne Simons alongside O'Donnell's, as well as a bunch of other talented kids, all selected to frame the ideas behind WINGMAN.
Every year as a kid my primary school took a bunch of jumpy, allergy-prone inner-west kids into the bush and made them walk for hours, skinned knees and sunburn be damned. There would always be a talk during the day, where, on the one hand, you could sit down, but on the other, you had to listen to park rangers carrying on about rock paintings and culture and just how old everything was. And we all sat patiently sulking, staring vacantly at some of the oldest artifacts of human civilisation, waiting for the icy poles we had been promised. Thing is, a lot of the time in Sydney we tend to forget the amazing and unique culture and historical heritage which is all around us. As a friend of mine said, "it still feels like school." The Discovering Country initiative is working to change all of this, with an art exhibition celebrating the environment, history and indigenous culture of Sydney Harbour. The exhibit brings together some of Sydney's most talented landscape photographers, working with the National Parks and Wildlife Service and the Aboriginal Discovery Rangers, who provide information about Sydney's indigenous culture and the native environment. The project aims to contribute funds to further develop the opportunities of the Tribal Warrior Association, which is revitalising Aboriginal culture and empowering disadvantaged indigenous people. And it doesn't feel like school at all.
A great story doesn't always make for a great movie, even if it is true. Sometimes the real-life details just don't work on the screen. Sometimes it’s the outcome that fascinates, rather than the build up. Though Woman in Gold tells of a battle to reclaim artwork stolen by the Nazis, pitting an elderly Jewish woman and her inexperienced lawyer against the Austrian government, it's the latest example of a tale that doesn't quite engage in film form. That the feature doesn't seem to know which part of the story it wants to focus on is part of the problem. That it relies on heavily tugging at heartstrings, movie-of-the-week-style, doesn't help either. After her sister's death in 1998, and after six decades living in America following the Second World War, Maria Altmann (Helen Mirren) is motivated to reclaim her family's history. Pining for a famed portrait of her aunt that hangs in a Vienna gallery, she enlists the services of Randol Schoenberg (Ryan Reynolds) to help convince her homeland to give it back. Given that the picture is considered the Mona Lisa of Austria, they're not willing to part with it easily. Those suffering from a bit of deja vu are probably thinking back to The Monuments Men, which also delved into war-time art theft, or Philomena, which also sent an older lady on a soul-searching, truth-uncovering trip with a younger male companion. Indeed, Woman in Gold might be based on reality, but it's really a compilation of every other similar effort, including underdog legal battles, melodramatic attempts to face the past, and period-set historical dramas. There's no subtlety to director Simon Curtis' approach, handsome as the feature might look and heartfelt as it might feel, or to writer Alexi Kaye Campbell's speech-heavy script. With that in mind, it shouldn't come as a surprise that the performances are just as blatant and transparent. The odd couple pairing of Mirren and Reynolds has its limits, and the dialogue they're saddled with doesn't give them much room to move. Both play their roles as stereotypes, although they do have more to do than Katie Holmes and Daniel Brühl, who pop up in thankless supporting parts. What results is a movie noble in its intentions, lush in its images and inspirational in its real-life basis, but decidedly dull in putting it all together. When the titular portrait is the most convincing part of the film, you know there are issues. Woman in Gold, the picture, might shine, but Woman in Gold, the movie, is a paint-by-numbers reproduction.
How do you start one of the most-anticipated film events on Sydney's annual calendar? For Westpac Openair Cinema, that's a familiar question. The answer in 2023: with the new movie by an all-time great, and one of the 2023 Oscar frontrunners: Steven Spielberg's The Fabelmans. The prolific director's latest comes hot on the heels of 2021's West Side Story, which also received some Academy Award love via a swag of nominations and a win for Ariana DeBose for Best Supporting Actress. When The Fabelmans launches Westpac Openair's new season on Sunday, January 8, the next batch of Oscar nominations won't yet be out — but it'll still begin the beloved harbourside cinema's 2023 run in a glorious way. The Fabelmans follows a teenager who wants to become a filmmaker, and takes loose inspiration from Spielberg's own childhood and early years in the business. Gabriel LaBelle plays that 16-year-old, with Michelle Williams (Venom: Let There Be Carnage) and Paul Dano (The Batman) as his parents, and Seth Rogen (Pam & Tommy) as his dad's best friend. After already locking in its dates — with its 2023 season running until Tuesday, February 21 — and announcing that Kitchen by Mike's Mike McEnearney will be behind its food range just like in 2022, Westpac Openair Cinema doesn't reveal its full 40-night lineup until Monday, November 28. But alongside announcing The Fabelmans, the event advised that both the also cinema-focused Empire of Light and the Cate Blanchett-starring Tár will also grace its giant 350-square-metre cinema screen at Mrs Macquaries Point. And, so will #MeToo drama She Said, the Emma Thompson-led Good Luck to You, Leo Grande, and The Lost King with Sally Hawkins and Steve Coogan. Those six films join a trio of other already-unveiled titles: this year's Palme d'Or-winner Triangle of Sadness, the Harry Styles- and Florence Pugh-starring thrills of Don't Worry Darling and the fashion-focused Mrs Harris Goes to Paris. And, back when the dates were first announced, the team behind the beloved event did drop a few other names of movies that've caught their attention, and that "would be pretty awesome experiences on Sydney Harbour", though. On that list: Elvis, Top Gun: Maverick, Fire of Love, Ticket to Paradise, Moonage Daydream and Bros. Whatever other flicks fill out the bill, they'll play at one of Sydney's favourite outdoor cinema spots, which comes complete with spectacular panoramic views of the city, the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge. As happens every year, tickets are likely to go quickly when they go on sale. Across the summer of 2018–19, more than 40,000 tickets sold within the first two days of pre-sale — so put it in your diary ASAP. Westpac Openair 2023 runs from Sunday, January 8—Tuesday, February 21. Check back here on Monday, November 28 for the full lineup — with tickets on sale on Monday, December 12. Top images: Fiora Sacco.
Some desserts always tempt the tastebuds, because there's going wrong with a classic. As well as tasting great every time you bite into them, some of those same sweet treats have inspired a heap of creative takes, too. If you've ever sipped a lamington-flavoured milkshake or plunged a scoop into some Iced VoVo gelato, then you know exactly what we're talking about. The next dessert mashups on offer hail from chocolatier Koko Black — and, if you're particularly fond of nostalgic Aussie favourites, your stomach might just start growling. As part of its new Australian Classics Collection, the Melbourne-founded company is making chocolate versions of plenty of your childhood staples. Think honey joys, chocolate crackles and Golden Gaytimes, plus the perennial go-tos that are Iced VoVos and lamingtons. The artisanal range turns some of the above sweets into separate bars sold in three-packs, and some into slabs of chocolate. So, you can tuck into Gaytime Goldies, which combine vanilla and malted caramel ganache, then dip the bar in dark chocolate, before covering it with hazelnuts — or opt for a block of Koko Crackles, which features rice bubbles, caramelised coconut and white chocolate, as then dipped in dark chocolate. Also available: a Lamington Slice slab, combining chocolate marshmallow and raspberry jelly, as covered in dark chocolate and dusted with coconut; bars of Koko Vovo, aka milk chocolate-coated biscuits topped with strawberry rosewater marshmallow, raspberry jelly and coconut; and Jam Wagons, which top biscuits topped with marshmallow and raspberry jam, then coat them in milk chocolate. Or, there's also Honey Joys, if you like your cornflakes drizzled with honey, then mixed with either milk chocolate or dark chocolate. The Australian Classics Collection is available separately or as one big hamper, with prices ranging from $15.90–$169. If you're keen, they've already hit Koko Black's online store — with delivery available nationally — and will show up in its physical shops from September 24. For more information about Koko Black's Australian Classics Collection, visit the store's website. Images: Studio Round.
Given the effort they put into creating, curating, collating and copying their wares, it seems kind of weird that the makers of zines would be the kind to abbreviate words. Like, "Okay, guys, we've edited and self-published a niche interest periodical, sure, but we don't have time to pronounce the syllables 'mag' and 'a'. That's where we draw the line!"? But, then again, eccentricity and arbitrary decision-making are part of the beauty of zine culture, wherein anyone with access to words and/or images and a means of putting them together can be a publisher. There are political zines and poetry zines — and zines about spoons and zines about people spooning. Often stumbled across in cute indie stores and venues or tracked down online, zines also enjoy a good gathering — and the MCA and the Sydney Writers' Festival are, as has become their annual tradition, throwing them another party with the 2019 MCA Zine Far on Sunday, May 5. Head along from 10.30am to do some collecting — you can buy or barter — or just have a look at what people are into and up to. The fair is free, as is the public program attached to it. Rock up on the day to attend zine community panel discussions and workshops on zines as a field book.
Something delightful has been happening in cinemas in some parts of the country. After numerous periods spent empty during the pandemic, with projectors silent, theatres bare and the smell of popcorn fading, picture palaces in many Australian regions are back in business — including both big chains and smaller independent sites in Sydney, Melbourne and Brisbane. During COVID-19 lockdowns, no one was short on things to watch, of course. In fact, you probably feel like you've streamed every movie ever made, including new releases, Studio Ghibli's animated fare and Nicolas Cage-starring flicks. But, even if you've spent all your time of late glued to your small screen, we're betting you just can't wait to sit in a darkened room and soak up the splendour of the bigger version. Thankfully, plenty of new films are hitting cinemas so that you can do just that — and we've rounded up, watched and reviewed everything on offer this week. SCREAM Twenty-six years ago, "do you like scary movies?" stopped being just an ordinary question. Posed by a wrong-number caller who happened to be a ghostface-masked killer with a fondness for kitchen knives, it was the snappiest and savviest line in one of the 90s' biggest horror films — a feature filled with snappy and savvy lines, too — and it's now one of cinema's iconic pieces of dialogue. It also perfectly summarised Scream's whole reason for being. The franchise-starting slasher flick didn't just like scary movies, though. It was one, plus a winking, nudging comedy, and it gleefully worshipped at the altar of all horror films that came before it. Wes Craven helmed plenty of those frightening features prior to Scream, so the A Nightmare on Elm Street and The Hills Have Eyes director was well-equipped to splash around love for the genre like his villain splashed around entrails — and to eagerly and happily satirise all of horror's well-known tropes in the stab-happy process. If you've seen the 1996 film or its three sequels till now, you've bathed in all that scary movie affection. You might've gleaned the horror basics from their rules and references; the OG film even had its characters watch Halloween and borrows the 70s classic's stellar score for key scenes. Geeking out over spooky cinema is the franchise's main personality trait, to the point that it has its own saga-within-a-saga, aka the Stab movies, and its fifth entry — also just called Scream — wouldn't dream of making that over. The famous question gets asked, obviously. Debates rage about the genre, enough other horror films are name-checked to fill a weekend-long movie marathon, cliches get skewered and dissected, and there's a Psycho-style shower scene. 'Elevated' horror standouts The Babadook, It Follows, The Witch and Hereditary earn a shoutout as well, but Scream itself just might be an elevator horror flick. It isn't set in one, but it crams in so much scary movie love that it always feels like it's stopping every few moments to let its nods and nerding-out disembark. In other words, you'd really best answer Scream's go-to query with the heartiest yes possible, and also like watching people keep nattering about all things horror. Taking over from Craven, who also directed 1997's Scream 2, 2000's Scream 3 and 2011's Scream 4 but died in 2015, Ready or Not's Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett task their next generation of slasher fodder with showing their devotion with all the subtlety of a masked murderer who can't stop taunting their prey. That'd be Ghostface, who terrorises today's Woodsboro high schoolers, because the fictional spot is up there with Sunnydale and Twin Peaks on the list of places that are flat-out hellish for teens. The same happened in Scream 4, but the first new attack by the saga's killer is designed to lure home someone who's left town. Sam Carpenter (Melissa Barrera, In the Heights) hightailed it the moment she was old enough, fleeing a family secret, but is beckoned back when her sister Tara (Jenna Ortega, You) receives the feature's opening "do you like scary movies?" call. Soon, bodies are piling up, Ghostface gives Woodsboro that grim sense of deja vu again, and Tara's friends — including the horror film-obsessed Mindy (Jasmin Savoy Brown, Yellowjackets), her twin Chad (Mason Gooding, Love, Victor), his girlfriend Liv (Sonia Ammar, Jappeloup), and other pals Wes (Dylan Minnette, 13 Reasons Why) and Amber (Mikey Madison, Better Things) — are trying to both survive while basically cycling through the OG feature again, complete with a crucial location, and sleuth out the culprit using their scary movie knowledge. Everyone's a suspect, including Sam herself and her out-of-towner boyfriend Richie (Jack Quaid, The Boys), and also the begrudging resident expert on this exact situation: ex-sheriff Dewey Riley (David Arquette, Spree). The latter is the reason that morning show host Gale Weathers (Courteney Cox, Cougar Town) and initial Ghostface target Sidney Prescott (Skyscraper) make the trip back to Woodsboro again as well. Read our full review. KING RICHARD In King Richard, Will Smith does more acting than expected with his back to the on-screen action. He does more acting in general — while the Ali and Concussion star can be a transformative performer, here he feels like he's overtly playing a part rather than disappearing into a role — but the way his eponymous figure handles his daughters' matches instantly stands out. Richard Williams is a tennis parent who despises the usual tennis parent histrionics. At the time the film is set, in the early 90s, he has also coached Venus (Saniyya Sidney, Fences) and Serena (Demi Singleton, Godfather of Harlem) since they were four years old, and penned a 78-page plan mapping out their futures before they were born. He's dedicated his life to their success; however, he's so restless when they're volleying and backhanding that he can't bring himself to watch. These scenes in King Richard are among Smith's best. He's anxious yet determined, and lives the feeling like he's breathing it, in some of the movie's least blatantly showy and most quietly complex scenes as well. The Williams family patriarch has wisdom for all occasions, forged from a tough childhood in America's south, plus the hard work and hustle of turning Venus and Serena into budding champions, so he'd likely have something to say about the insights gleaned here: that you can tell oh-so-much about a person when they're under pressure but nobody's watching. If he was actively imparting this lesson to his daughters — five of them, not just the two that now have 30 Grand Slam singles titles between them — and they didn't glean it, he'd make them watch again. When they see Cinderella in the film, that's exactly what happens. But his courtside demeanour is teachable anyway, recognising how all the preparation and effort in the world will still see you tested over and over. King Richard mostly lobs around smaller moments, though — still life-defining for the aforementioned trio, matriarch Oracene (Aunjanue Ellis, Lovecraft Country) and the rest of the Williams brood, but before Venus and Serena became women's tennis superstars. It unpacks the effort put in to even get them a game, set or match and be taken seriously in a sport that's whiter than the lines marking out its courts, and the chances, sacrifices and wins of their formative years. From cracked Compton courts and homemade hype videos to seizing every hard-earned opportunity: that's the tale that King Richard tells. But, despite making a clear effort to pose this as a family portrait rather than a dad biopic, it still shares an approach with Joe Bell, director Reinaldo Marcus Green's prior film. It bears one man's name, celebrates him first and makes him the centre of someone else's exceptional story. In screenwriter Zach Baylin's debut script, Richard's aim is simple: get Venus and Serena to racquet-swinging glory by any means. His DIY tapes are bait for a professional coach, but attracting one is easier said than done for a working-class Black family without country club connections facing America's inbuilt racism and class clashes, and tennis' snobbery — even if Richard knows his daughters will reach their goals. A turning point comes when, after strolling into a practice match between Pete Sampras and John McEnroe, Richard convinces renowned coach Paul Cohen (Tony Goldwyn, Scandal) to watch his kids play and take on Venus for free. While she's swiftly impressing on the junior circuit, her dad becomes concerned about her psychological and emotional wellbeing, so he next works his persuasive act on Florida-based coach Rick Macci (Jon Bernthal, The Many Saints of Newark) — with a strict no-competition rule. Read our full review. LIMBO Describing a dance and a state of uncertainty alike, limbo is one of those always-intriguing words. Many terms boast multiple meanings, but this one skirts two ends of the spectrum — the party-fuelled joy of a parade of people trying to pass under a bar while bending over backwards, and the malaise of being stuck waiting and not knowing. Both require a degree of flexibility, though, to either complete physical feats or weather the fickleness of life (or, in limbo's religious usage, of being caught in an oblivion between heaven and hell). It's no wonder then that British writer/director Ben Sharrock chose the word for his second feature, following 2015's Pikadero. His Limbo lingers in a realm where men are made to contort themselves, biding one's time anticipating a decision is the status quo and feeling like you've been left in a void is inescapable. The fancy footsteps here are of the jumping-through-hoops kind, as Limbo ponders a revelatory question: what happens when refugees are sent to a Scottish island to await the results of their asylum applications? There's zero doubting how telling the movie's moniker is; for Syrian musician Omar (Amir El-Masry, Star Wars: Episode IX — The Rise of Skywalker) and his fellow new arrivals to Scotland, there's little to do in this emptiness between the past and the future but wait, sit at the bus stop, check out the children's playground and loiter near the pay phone. That, and navigate the wide range of reactions from the locals, which veer from offensive to thoughtful. Everything about the situation demands that Omar and his companions make all the expected moves, but it also forces them to potter around in purgatory and stomach whatever is thrown at them to do so. In Omar's case, he's made the trip with an actual case — physically, that is, thanks to his prized possession. He's brought his grandfather's oud with him, which he rarely lets slip from his grasp, and so he feels its weight where he goes. It's a canny part of Limbo's script in two ways. Whatever they're fleeing in search of a better life, every refugee has a case to be welcomed into safer lands that they carry around with them, but Sharrock manifests the idea in a tangible sense. With Omar's musical dreams, which the beloved oud also represents, in limbo as well, the ever-present instrument additionally acts as a constant reminder of the sacrifices that asylum seekers make in leaving their homes, even when there's no other option, and the costs they pay when they're met with less-than-open arms, then left waiting for their new existence to begin. Just as the term limbo means so much, so does that oud — and so does the feature it's in. A film can be heartbreaking, tender, insightful and amusing all at once, and Limbo is indeed all of those things. It's both dreamlike and lived-in, too, a blend that suits its title and story — and also the mental and emotional state shared by Omar and his other asylum seekers as they eke out their hope and resilience day after unchanging day, all while roaming and roving around an island that may as well be another world. The Scottish landscape around them looks like it could grace a postcard, and Sharrock has cinematographer Nick Cooke (Make Up) box it into an almost-square frame to make it resemble vacation snaps. That choice of 1.33:1 aspect ratio also confines the movie's characters in another fashion, of course, offering a blatant visual flipside to the holiday-perfect splendour; being trapped anywhere is bleak, even if it appears picturesque. Read our full review. GOLD Gold's title doubles as an exclamation that Australian filmmakers might've made when Zac Efron decamped to our shores at the beginning of the pandemic. Only this outback-set thriller has put the High School Musical, Bad Neighbours and Baywatch star to work Down Under, however, and he definitely isn't in Hollywood anymore. Instead, he's stuck in "some time, some place, not far from now…", as all-caps text advises in the movie's opening moments. He's caught in a post-Mad Max-style dystopia, where sweltering heat, a visible lack of shelter, a cut-throat attitude, water rationing, and nothing but dirt and dust as far as the eye can see greets survivors navigating a rusty wasteland. But then his character, Man One, spots a glint, and all that glisters is indeed gold — and he must guard it while Man Two (Anthony Hayes, also the film's director) seeks out an excavator. Exactly who stays and who goes is the subject of heated discussion, but Gold is an economical movie, mirroring how its on-screen figures need to be careful about every move they make in such unforgiving surroundings. As a filmmaker, helming his first feature since 2008's Ten Empty, Hayes knows his star attraction — and he's also well-aware of the survivalist genre, and its history, that he's plonking Efron into. Almost every male actor has been in one such flick or so it can seem, whether Tom Hanks is talking to a volleyball in Castaway, Liam Neeson is communing with wolves in The Grey or Mads Mikkelsen is facing frosty climes in Arctic. Although Gold purposefully never names its setting, Australia's vast expanse is no stranger to testing its visitors, too, but Hayes' version slips in nicely alongside the likes of Wake in Fright, The Rover and Cargo, rather than rips them off. The reason such tales persist is pure human nature — we're always battling against the world around us, even if everyday folks are rarely in such extreme situations — and, on-screen, because of the performances they evoke. Efron isn't even the first import to get stranded in sunburnt country in 2022, after Jamie Dornan did the same in TV miniseries The Tourist, but he puts in a compellingly internalised performance. Man One's minutes, hours and days guarding an oversized nugget pass with sparing sips of H20, attempts to build a shelter and altercations with the locals, including of the two-legged, canine, insect and arachnid varieties, and the toll of all this time alone builds in Efron's eyes and posture. His face crackles from the sun, heat and muck, but his portrayal is as much about enduring as reacting, as both Efron and Hayes savvily recognise. Writing with costumer-turned-scribe Polly Smyth as well as directing solo, Hayes puts more than just survival on Gold's mind, though: when the titular yellow precious metal is involved, greed is rarely good. Here, staying alive at any cost is all about striking it rich at any cost, and also about the paranoia festering between two new acquaintances who've randomly stumbled upon a life-changing windfall — as heightened by the film's stark, harsh, post-apocalyptic setup. When a third person (Susie Porter, Ladies in Black) enters the scenario, Gold grimly lets its life-or-death and lucky break elements keep clashing, but also pairs Man One's desperation with the mental decline that blistering in the sun, being parched with thirst and starving with hunger all bring. Greed proves perilous in a plethora of ways in the film's frames, including inside its main character's head. Read our full review. THE 355 They're globe-hopping, ass-kicking, world-saving spies, but women: that's it, that's The 355. When those formidable ladies are played by a dream international cast of Jessica Chastain (Scenes From a Marriage), Lupita Nyong'o (Us), Penélope Cruz (Pain and Glory), Diane Kruger (In the Fade) and Fan Bingbing (I Am Not Madame Bovary), the tickets should sell themselves — and Chastain, who suggested the concept and produces, wasn't wrong for hoping that. Giving espionage moves the female-fronted spin that Bond and Mission: Impossible never have isn't just this action-thriller's quest alone, of course, and nothing has done so better than Atomic Blonde recently, but there's always room for more. What The 355 offers is an average affair, though, rather than a game-changer, even if it so evidently wants to do for its genre what Widows did for heist flicks. The film still starts with men, too, causing all the globe's problems — aka threatening to end life as we know it via a gadget that can let anyone hack anything online. One nefarious and bland mercenary (Jason Flemyng, Boiling Point) wants it, but the CIA's gung-ho Mason 'Mace' Browne (Chastain) and her partner Nick Fowler (Sebastian Stan, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier) head to Paris to get it from Colombian intelligence officer Luis Rojas (Édgar Ramírez, Jungle Cruise), who's gone rogue and is happy to sell; however, German operative Marie Schmidt (Kruger) is also on its trail. The French connection goes wrong, the two women get in each other's ways, but it's apparent — begrudgingly to both — that they're better off together. They need ex-MI6 cyber whiz Khadijah Adiyeme (Nyong'o) to help, while Colombian psychologist Graciela Rivera (Cruz) gets drawn in after making the trip to stop Luis going off the books. No stranger to covert affairs or formidable women after penning Mr and Mrs Smith, but helming only his second movie following the awful X-Men: Dark Phoenix, director/co-writer Simon Kinberg spreads the action across several continents — including a foot chase in Marrakesh and an auction in Shanghai, which is where Lin Mi Sheng (Fan) joins the story. Scripting with TV veteran Theresa Rebeck (Smash), his big setpieces all play with the film's gender focus, mostly dissecting how women are so often overlooked in various situations; the indifference given wait staff, the invisibility of women in male-dominated societies and the way they're meant to be pure eye candy at black-tie occasions all earn the movie's ire. But these sentiments, like everything else in the feature, are blatant and straightforward at best. The mood the movie vibes with: "James Bond never had to deal with real life," as Cruz is given the misfortune of uttering. The 355 should be better — with its dialogue, clearly; with its girl-power, girl-boss, girls-can-do-anything messaging; and at celebrating more than five women, or even showing them. (If you were going to pick five ladies to do the job, though, this casting is spot-on.) It could use a sense of style and charm beyond Nyong'o's suits and the gang's personality-matched auction outfits, and its over-edited action scenes put Kinsberg two for two with tanking a crucial part of his directorial efforts to-date. Women can star in mediocre action movies as well, however. That isn't meant to be the picture's big push for gender parity, but The 355 is also exactly what seemingly millions of bland men-led actioners have been serving up for decades upon decades. It packages it up in an Ocean's 8-meets-Bourne approach, or a more self-serious Charlie's Angels, but these run-of-the-mill flicks have long been everywhere, just without as much oestrogen. The Bond and Mission: Impossible franchises have their own, too. Read our full review. If you're wondering what else is currently screening in Australian cinemas — or has been lately — check out our rundown of new films released in Australia on September 2, September 9, September 16, September 23 and September 30; October 7, October 14, October 21 and October 28; November 4, November 11, November 18 and November 25; December 2, December 9, December 16 and December 26; and January 1 and January 6. You can also read our full reviews of a heap of recent movies, such as Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, Summer of Soul (...Or, When the Revolution Could Not Be Televised), Streamline, Coming Home in the Dark, Pig, Big Deal, The Killing of Two Lovers, Nitram, Riders of Justice, The Alpinist, A Fire Inside, Lamb, The Last Duel, Malignant, The Harder They Fall, Roadrunner: A Film About Anthony Bourdain, Halloween Kills, Passing, Eternals, The Many Saints of Newark, Julia, No Time to Die, The Power of the Dog, Tick, Tick... Boom!, Zola, Last Night in Soho, Blue Bayou, The Rescue, Titane, Venom: Let There Be Carnage, Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn, Dune, Encanto, The Card Counter, The Lost Leonardo, The French Dispatch, Don't Look Up, Dear Evan Hansen, Spider-Man: No Way Home, The Lost Daughter, The Scary of Sixty-First, West Side Story, Licorice Pizza, The Matrix Resurrections, The Tragedy of Macbeth, The Worst Person in the World, Ghostbusters: Afterlife, House of Gucci, The King's Man and Red Rocket.
The place: earth in the near future. The situation: a frozen planet chilling at a frosty -119 degrees celsius, as caused by humanity's attempts to combat climate change. The only solution: a constantly hurtling 1001-car train that plays host to the world's only remaining people. But, instead of banding together on the speeding locomotive, the residents of Snowpiercer have transported society's class structure into the carriages of their new home. That's the story that drives Snowpiercer — on both the big screen and on TV. First came Bong Joon-ho's 2013 film, which marked the acclaimed South Korean writer/director's first English-language film, and one of the movies that brought him to broader fame before Netflix's Okja and 2019's Cannes Palme d'Or-winning and Oscar-winning Parasite. Then, unsurprisingly, came a US-made television series, which was first announced back in 2016, and then finally started speeding across screens — including Down Under, where it's available via Netflix — from May this year. In both forms, Snowpiercer boasts a smart, immersive and all-too-timely concept — and unpacks its underlying idea in a thrilling and involving manner. While the TV version isn't as great as Bong's film (because, honestly, how could it be?), it takes the same dystopian concept, heightens the suspense and drama, and serves up both a class warfare-fuelled survivalist thriller and a murder-mystery. Think constant twists, reveals and reversals, cliffhangers at the end of almost every scene, and a 'Murder on the Snowpiercer Express' kind of vibe. Indeed, it's rather addictive — and, after just wrapping up its first season, the show has dropped its first teaser for its second batch of episodes. Once again, Hamilton's Tony Award-winning Daveed Diggs leads the charge, playing an ex-detective who has spent seven years in the tail end of the train and is dedicated to overthrowing the status quo to achieve equality for all. Also aboard is Jennifer Connelly as the engine's all-seeing, ever-present head of hospitality, with the likes of Frances Ha's Mickey Sumner, Slender Man's Annalise Basso and The Americans' Alison Wright all part of Snowpiercer's new world order as well. And, in the new trailer, they're all facing a significant change. They're also about to meet a new adversary, as played by none other than Game of Thrones' Sean Bean. Just when Snowpiercer's second season will arrive is yet to be revealed — although it's safe to say it won't start dropping until 2021 at the earliest. Just how long Bean will survive in his latest role, well, that's something you can start pondering right now. Watch the Snowpiercer season two trailer below: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7xEFQpBc3Nc Snowpiercer's second season will hit Netflix Down Under at a yet-to-be-revealed date — we'll update you with further details when they come to hand.
Since first appearing on-screen back in 1997, Borat Sagdiyev has always stood out. In 2006 mockumentary Borat! Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan, which sees Sacha Baron Cohen's fictional Kazakh journalist head to the "US and A" and chat with ordinary Americans across the country, that's a big part of the point. And in surprise 14-years-later sequel Borat Subsequent Moviefilm: Delivery of Prodigious Bribe to American Regime for Make Benefit Once Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan, that also remains the case — even if he has to don over-the-top disguises because he's now quite famous in the US. Before Borat Subsequent Moviefilm starts streaming globally from Friday, October 23 via Amazon Prime Video, Borat is standing out in another way, too: via a towering statue of the character that has been helicoptered into Bondi Beach for 24 hours. As Borat would say, "very excite!". It's a promotional move for the film, obviously, but if you've ever wanted to stare up at a giant version of the moustachioed figure — who is scantily dressed, even in sculpture form — then here is your chance. Sydneysiders can find the six-metre statue at Marks Park until 11am tomorrow, Friday, October 23, featuring a reclining Borat clad only in an American flag. The very nice sculpture was unveiled today as part of a press conference which featured a streamed appearance by the character, a big display of Kazakh flags and a parade of Borat look-alikes wearing nothing but maskinis — yes, they're face masks turned into mankinis, because of course they are. As for the movie itself, it's exactly what you'd expect of Borat's return visit to the US — especially during an election year, as American politics seems more polarised than ever, and as COVID-19 affects the country. While last time he travelled across the nation after falling in love with Pamela Anderson, now he's trying to gift his daughter to Vice President Mike Pence (or "vice pussy grabber", as Borat calls him). His aim: to get Kazakhstan's own leader into President Donald Trump's good graces, and specifically his "strong man club", which refers to Trump's penchant for promoting his ties with the likes of Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong-un. Along the way, Borat tries to kill the coronavirus by hitting it with a frying pan, dresses up like Trump to infiltrate a conservative conference and struggles with the daughter he previously didn't even know he had. As he always does, Baron Cohen also uses his time back in the character's grey suit to expose plenty of engrained, overt and unpleasant viewpoints and prejudice among those he meets. And, he also has a run-in with Rudy Giuliani that's been garnering plenty of news headlines over the past day. Check out the Borat Subsequent Moviefilm trailer below: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Rsa4U8mqkw&feature=youtu.be The Borat sculpture is on display at Marks Park, Bondi Beach until 11am tomorrow, Friday, October 23. Borat Subsequent Moviefilm: Delivery of Prodigious Bribe to American Regime for Make Benefit Once Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan will be available to stream via Amazon Prime Video from Friday, October 23.
