In what is touted as their first show together in nearly a decade, Kwesell and Tweedy would rival Penn and Teller for the title of ‘unlikeliest duo in magic’. Kwesell, a 7-foot monolith of a man, could barely stand on stage without hitting his head, while Tweedy, significantly shorter and sporting a braided beard, looked as if he’d sailed all the way from Middle Earth to be there. If nothing else, what they clearly have in common is their immense illusionary ability, deploying some of the best misdirection and sleight of hand you’ll never see. Just try and catch these guys in the act…you’d sooner win the lottery.

One thing these two magicians couldn’t manipulate was time, as their show, fittingly located at Adelaide’s psychedelic Cavern Club, started over 30 minutes late. Once their act began, however, time flew by as the Kwesell and Tweedy charmed the audience with their laid-back, unshowy approach to stage magic. Audience participation is incorporated into almost every trick, so be wary should you choose to sit in the front row. That said, the two tend to laugh with their audience and not at them, which goes a long way in assuring the confidence of those being pulled up on stage. For better or worse, this isn’t the offensive magic show the Fringe blurb suggested. In truth, this is family friendly entertainment.

To nitpick, there were a few occasions where the build-up to a trick felt overly drawn out — the kind of prolonged pattering often employed by street magicians to draw in a bigger crowd — but the payoff was usually worth the wait. Furthermore, magic aficionados like myself will likely have seen a number of these illusions performed before, such as the oldest trick in the book, the cups and balls. But take it from me; you’ve never seen it performed as capably, and spectacularly, as Richard Kwesell does here. Gifted with extremely large hands, Kwesell could sneak an elephant underneath a cup without you raising an eyebrow.

In true American spirit, Kwesell and Tweedy have supersized their show for the Adelaide Fringe, essentially offering two magic acts for the price of one. As long as you’ve got nowhere to be in the morning, be sure to stick around after main show has concluded — which already clocks in at a generous 90 minutes – as the two move freely about the Cavern Club to perform some excellent examples of close-up magic. It’s here where Tweedy displayed his remarkable spoon bending ability, which saw sceptics in the audience double-take as they searched, hopelessly, for a logical answer to the question “how the hell did he do that?”

[review originally written for Buzzcuts]

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Presented by Nicholas Tweedy

The Cavern Club

March 12-14

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Read many more great Fringe reviews at the Buzzcuts website!

Originally written, designed and performed by puppet maker Philip Millar for the Melbourne Fringe Festival a few years back, Tyrannosaurus Sex has made its way to Adelaide thanks to the talented puppeteers of the SA-based Pooka Puppet Co. They skilfully animate Bob, a normal-sized penis who has been saturated by idealistic media stereotypes and believes that he’s never going to get lucky unless he’s hung like a grandfather clock. Every night he sits flaccidly in front of the telly, beer in hand, flicking between adult infomercials – hosted by a sleazy arse-faced salesman named Bumshark – and classic monster movies where giant prehistoric penises wreck havoc through Bob’s self-esteem.

The laughs come hard and fast as the show builds up to a spectacular climax, where Bob, happily reunited with the rest of his body, erupts into the catchy chorus of ‘Every Penis Has a Brain’. Much like that last sentence, the lyrics are packed full of witty sexual innuendos, made all the more memorable by Derek Rowe’s original score. He dabbles in genres such as techno-funk, heavy metal, heartfelt ballads and soaring pop anthems to illuminate Bob’s plight, one that is more relatable than many men would care to admit.

The real brilliance of Tyrannosaurus Sex lies with Millar’s provocative puppets, all of whom are teeming with personality and are scrupulously detailed down to the smallest of veins. With many credits to his name — including stage productions of The Hobbit and The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe — Millar’s talent is immense, utilising table-top puppets, hand puppets, shadow puppets, full body suit puppets and even animatronics to full comedic effect. It’s all seamlessly integrated into a rapturous 45 minute show which, like Bob, is just the right length.

[Review originally written for Buzzcuts]

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Presented by Puppet Palace Projects & Pooka Puppets in association with Puppet Vision

Feb 12 – Mar 13 (excl Feb 15,16,19,22 & 23; Mar 12,8 & 9)

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Read many more great Fringe reviews at the Buzzcuts website!

The Adelaide Fringe Festival runs from the 19th February – 14th March. Check out the program guide and buy tickets online at www.adelaidefringe.com.au

Butler, partly putting aside his knack for comedy, avoids trivialising events by not overdoing the humour, instead subtly infusing hints of wit to make the serious issues at hand more palatable. The show has been written specifically for this Fringe, meaning it’s packed full of references to Adelaide locations, such as St Peters College where most of the events transpire. It’s a nice touch as it helps the audience better envisage the locations outside of the main classroom setting, especially since the only props on the small stage are a desk and blackboard.

He claims to have never acted before, yet Butler’s subtly nuanced performance as Red is standout, the flippancy of his character being both credibly depicted and strangely endearing. The small supporting cast – including Aaron Nash as a hot-headed student, Alicia Case as his promiscuous girlfriend and Alex Cheers as a naive and self-absorbed sports teacher – all perform well, despite the occasional slip-up in what was their second performance to date. Look out for Gary Heartly as the school’s high achieving principal and Robyn Brooks as a student’s overtly suggestive mother; both are scene stealers in their all-too-brief roles.

The show is playing at the Producers Bar inside the Electric Light Hotel, a grungy venue on Grenfell Street that is far better suited to moshable music gigs than sit-down stage shows. On top of the theatre entrance being obscurely located within the main bar, the seating is severely limited (some were forced to stand up) and the heat was almost unbearable as the sole air conditioner ceased to operate. Such unacceptably high temperatures took their toll on the cast, who clearly started to run out of energy by the hour mark, while the audience grew restless in their seats. It wasn’t long before programmes became personal fans.

Ultimately, those hoping for a joke-a-minute might want to consider enrolling elsewhere, as the balance of comedy and drama in Rogue Teacher is definitely in favour of the latter. But if you’re keen for a dramatic lesson in concepts such as chaos theory – which suggests even the smallest of actions can have a life changing effect – you’d be wise not to wag this one.

[Review originally written for Buzzcuts]

Presented by Mark Butler/Alex Cheers
Electric Light Hotel, 235 Grenfell St
February 20 – March 6 (excl. Feb 21-25 & 28; Mar 1-3)

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Read many more great Fringe reviews at the Buzzcuts website!

The Adelaide Fringe Festival runs from the 19th February – 14th March. Check out the program guide and buy tickets online at www.adelaidefringe.com.au

Here is an excerpt from my review of Mada vs. Vegas, courtesy of Buzzcuts:

Magic meets melodrama in Mada vs. Vegas, but they don’t exactly hit it off.

You’ll already be familiar with the premise of the show if you’ve seen the 2006 film ‘The Prestige’: two rivalling magicians – who were long-time friends prior to a trick going horribly wrong – take to a smoky stage in a battle of wits, card tricks and pyrotechnics.

The idea is certainly novel – not often does stage magic get dealt a narrative – but the execution is lacking. The theatrics of their conflict are considerably underplayed, with the back story explaining why the two became rivals reduced to an offhand remark. Perhaps we could have seen the performance that started the feud?

Their greatest adversary here is time, not each other. An hour isn’t nearly long enough to adequately balance magic and drama, forcing a compromise to be reached. As a result, we get two magicians occasionally casting each other moody glances, trying to outdo one another by way of the more elaborate examples of pub magic.

There’s no questioning the talent of these Sydney illusionists, both being experts at sleight of hand and the performance of the illusion itself. But aside from a particularly daring opening trick (with a very real risk of injury), there’s nothing terribly elaborate here. Nothing you couldn’t see performed, say, by a skilled busker in the mall.

The high level of audience participation keeps everyone on their toes, but it works counteractive to the dramatic tension they’re trying to build. The show is at its best during the last act where the two don’t break the fourth wall, thereby allowing full immersion in their characters. Like something out of Mad Magazine’s comic ‘Spy vs. Spy’, both magicians resort to dirty tactics to get ahead, playing tricks on each other and not just the audience. It makes for an amusing dramatic spectacle and offers a brief glimpse of the show’s true potential.

So who is ultimately crowned top dog? Neither Mada nor Vegas in my book, but rather their accompanying magician Julia Madotti, who enthrals between each act with a magic-infused dance routine. As one of few female illusionists in Australia, she shows the boys how it’s done.

Read many more great Fringe reviews at the Buzzcuts website!

The Adelaide Fringe Festival runs from the 19th February – 14th March. Check out the program guide and buy tickets online at www.adelaidefringe.com.au

Here is an excerpt from my review of  Jason Chong’s Reel Life:

Packed with channels of high-definition humour and guaranteed to receive a great reception at this year’s Fringe Festival, Jason Chong’s Reel Life is the digital upgrade to analogue comedy.

He may be a bit of a techno geek, but it’s hard not to be charmed by the talented young Adelaide comedian – who proudly bears a shirt that confesses his love for his parents – as he cleverly interacts with a digitized universe being projected onto a three metre wide display situated onstage.

The show unassumingly kicks off with a typical stand-up routine, but before Chong can reach any sort of punch line, he is interrupted on-screen by the much reviled Paperclip help feature from Microsoft Office. Does the winner of 2009s Adelaide Comedian of the Year need help telling a joke? Certainly not.

Things go from funny to slap-the-skin-off-your-knees hilarious as Chong must put his routine on hold after his shoulder devil is accidently let loose within the digital world projected behind him. The imagination soars as we’re taken on a madcap journey through a collection of pop-culture sight and sound gags – from Super Mario to Star Wars – where Chong sets out to bring an end to his evil alter ego’s reign of terror. [...]

Read the rest of the review, plus many more great Fringe reviews, here!

The Adelaide Fringe Festival runs from the 19th February – 14th March. Check out the program guide and buy tickets online at www.adelaidefringe.com.au

For those not in the know regarding Soviet cinema, Andrei Tarkovsky can best be described through his constant and spectacular use of long, long tracking shots, of the most balletic nature, mostly devoid of dialogue. Paper Soldier however, is not directed by Tarkovsky, but rather Aleksei German. It’s often billed as the Russian Right Stuff (do yourself a favour if you haven’t checked out that particularly epic Tom Wolfe adaptation and devour it, please), but Paper Soldier is less bravado and gung-ho than balletic, thoughtful and grey. Really, where the similarities start and end is the fact that both films explore the space race between the two superpowers…and it seems fitting that both films seem to exemplify their respective schools of cinema; gung ho, epic Hollywood, and a rather more introspectively self-aware Soviet cinema. It’s certainly an unlikely way of telling the story of the Russian side of the space race – the entire period of history lends itself to all the fanfare and rousing chorus of a blockbuster. Cosmonaut training is barely touched on, in fact. Rather, the film fixates itself on the chain-smoking doctors of the mission.

It’s 1961, and Dr. Daniel Pokrovsky (Merab Ninidze, with just the right amount of broodishly dark good looks) is a doctor rather high up in the chain of those working to send a man into space safely. He’s haunted by the memory and legacy of his surgeon father, and by his increasing inner conflict regarding the human risk of the mission he’s participating in. He’s married to Nina (Chulpan Khamatova), a fellow doctor in Moscow, with whom he might want to divorce, or have a child with. He’s also involved with the young and clingy Vera, (Anastasya Sheveleva) a girl from the flats of Kazakhstan where the Cosmodome resides. They go to parties, get drunk, smoke a lot, talk amongst themselves and over each other. While that may sound lively however, one looking for a riveting character study and constant moments of life and excitement can rethink their gameplan very quickly. The three main protagonists are interesting yes, but aren’t really the main concern of the film. It’s rather difficult to connect to them until the last third of the film, and the moments of human interaction and emotion are separated by long periods of those long takes I mentioned earlier.

It does take Paper Soldier a leisurely long while for the plot and emotional depth to pick up steam, but it is worth it I assure you, for those who are as enraptured as I was with the exquisite cinematography. Truly, it is a wonder to behold. All greys and blacks of the Kazakhstan landscape, interrupted by fires, or a crying mistress, or astronauts remarkably casual before their first flight. A man rides a bike towards the death that had been looming over the entire film, giving it a sense of dread. The movements of the characters are almost balletic within the frame, moving in and out of the camera’s eye, with each shot a compositional triumph. It makes one wonder how much of the film was rehearsed and choreographed to oblivion and back. This meandering of the seemingly minimal plot (I say that because it’s a time remembered with a significant amount of pride in Russia to my knowledge) combined with the flats of Kazakhstan, the film often has a dream-like quality.

What’s my verdict? I got a giant kick out of the film, although I’m fully aware that I didn’t get half as many of the cultural references that were in the film. There’s occasional moments of a lovely kind of humour, and like I’ve just described, the cinematography certainly is an inspiration, especially for someone about to head into production as Director of Photography of a short film. This isn’t for the easily bored though, or those who need constant explanations of the actions of the characters and the trajectory of the plot. There’s certainly a lot to be had from Paper Soldier.

The Steven I refer to is none other than Steven Soderbergh, truly one of those ever-reliable filmmakers. I guess at times I take this seemingly effortlessly slick, stylish filmmaker’s skill for granted, but he really is one of those ever-reliable directors (do I go as far as to call him an auteur? Perhaps not.) that continually makes film after solid, substantial film. The Girlfriend Experience is no exception.

My second visit to the aisles of this year’s Melbourne International Film Festival, I wasn’t sure what to expect from Soderbergh’s newest offering. I knew it would be about a high-class Manhattan escort, portrayed by successful porn actress Sasha Grey (who, I noted with interest, is my age). Apart from that however, I wasn’t sure what was in store for me, other than my friend’s claim that it was a “reaction against” the Ocean’s franchise which had brought Soderbergh so much box office success in recent years. Indeed, it is – that much was clear from the opening seconds of the film.

The Girlfriend Experience is all the sometimes out of focus, awkward and improvised dialogue, interestingly framed shots that the Oceans films are not. Objects and people are deliberately out of frame, or out of focus, then suddenly appear again. The camerawork is gorgeous, yet notably hand-held. Awkward pauses abound. This isn’t a film for those who shy away from what is a little “artsy”. Not for haters of Godard (see: similarities in subject matter and pace to Godard’s Vivre Sa Vie). Christine/Chelsea (Grey) is a successful escort, earning thousands per hour, seeing to the needs of wealthy businessmen who haven’t the time for the real girlfriend experience. Set in 2008, Chelsea’s clients complain and whine to no end about the upcoming election, and especially the global financial crisis. They’re earning less nowadays, they’re losing clients and are terrified that their lifestyle might have to change. Chelsea in turn, listens patiently, listlessly. She’s doing very well for herself, wanting to expand her business and earn even more.

You know, I sit here writing this, wondering how exactly to explain the plot of Girlfriend Experience. While certainly “things happen”, the chronology of the film is confusing, constantly darting between moments in time, and the pace meanders around with no real rush at all. This of course (in my opinion) works to Soderbergh’s advantage, but it makes explaining the film to someone somewhat difficult. Chelsea gets interviewed by a journalist. Chelsea sleeps with businessmen. Chelsea is informed of an up-and-coming younger escort who is stealing her clientele. All this, amongst day to day activities of Christine and her boyfriend, Chris (Chris Santos), a personal trainer.

What was most interesting about The Girlfriend Experience was the stance of Soderbergh and writers David Levien and Brian Koppelman towards Chelsea as a character. The camera lingers almost lovingly upon her body and especially her face, whereupon her dimple lights up the frame during those infrequent moments of a visible smile. However, she is also inaccessible, enigmatic, and …bland. This can be attributed perhaps in part to the lesser acting chops of Sasha Grey, but more so I believe this works in favour with Soderbergh’s character (?) study of a young woman whose “real” personality and essence is just as inaccessable to those who care for her and are genuinely interested as her money-obsessed clients. Both a journalist and the sleazy reviewer note that she is bland and uninteresting, and Soderbergh seems to take a certain amount of joy during said sequences. Similarly, there was a resounding wave of laughter as Chelsea remarks to Chris that he’s “so selfish” for not wanting her to go away for a weekend with a client she might be romantically interested in. It becomes increasingly difficult to like or identify with Chelsea as the film continues, yet one finds themselves mesmerised by her, and her surroundings. It appears to me that Soderbergh is making a comment on the money-obsessed world in which Chelsea and Chris (who charges his similarly well-off clinetele $125 an hour for personal training) exist. Conversation is always money-related, Chelsea takes note of the designers of everything she and her clients wear. In a shiny, sleek world, neither the characters nor the audience have much in the way of emotion or “real” personalities to cling onto.

The Girlfriend Experience is a film that leaves one thinking after the end credits have rolled – if you’re into that kind of thing. For those who enjoy being entranced by beautiful cinematography, who are not put off by a chronologically disjointed and confusing plot, and who are not deterred by somewhat of a lack of plot in exchange of a more meandering and thoughtful filmic experience, Soderbergh gives much to chew on. I myself wandered at for at least a couple cigarettes’ worth of time after the screening, taking in the subtleties of what ol’ Steven had explored with his strange and detached character study and wondered how on earth someone keeps something from being so boring and slow to the point of painful and instead brings a thought-provoking and aesthetically beautiful film to the table instead.

Verdict:

Slow, deliberately very “artsy” (not my words) and disjointed, yet interesting and certainly worth sticking with until it picks up the interest-level and starts to tie the seemingly unrelated threads together.

Upon having now seen An Englishman in New York however, I am compelled to purchase and devour Crisp’s memoirs, and find every one of his filmic performances. This is almost entirely due to the stellar, magnetic, light-up-the-screen performance of British legend John Hurt as Crisp, a role he actually first played way back when in 1975. But more about that shortly…

For those of you too lazy to hit up Wikipedia, Quentin Crisp was born Denis Charles Pratt in 1908 in England. Effeminate from early life, he would dye his long hair various colours, paint his nails, wear make up and experiment with women’s clothing. Denied entry into the armed forces (‘sexual perversion’ given as the reason), he modeled in life classes for artists, and published multiple books. It was upon the release of his autobiography Naked Civil Servant however, that his “career” began to take off. Chronicling his early life, it told of the angry responses and homophobic attacks he would receive because of his appearance and refusal to stay in the closet. He was approached by documentarian Denis Mitchell to make a short film, which then resulted in a television film adaptation of Naked Civil Servant, with John Hurt in the title role, hurtling both the actor and Crisp himself into the limelight. It it as this point that director Richard Laxton and writer Brian Fillis take up the story in An Englishman in New York (and yes, the song by Sting is about Quentin Crisp) picks up the story. It spans the last few decades of Crisp’s life, beginning in the late 1970s as fame has hit in Britain and it seems like a move to New York – a city even just as exciting in real life as it is in films, according to Crisp – is the next logical step.

Not being an expert in the life of Quentin Crisp, or of gay culture in New York during the 1980s, I can’t attest as to the accuracy of An Englishman in New York. Having said that though, I felt immediately drawn to the character of Crisp. John Hurt’s portrayal of the flamboyant and endlessly quotable Englishman lights up the screen. He strides confidently through the streets of New York, head held high as if performing for the entire world. He revels in the outlandishness of the city, yet isn’t anything less than completely dignified in his colourful scarves, lipstick and ever-present wide-brimmed hat. Refusing to even attempt housework (after four years the dust can’t get any worse) and insisting on attending every film premiere and dinner party he was invited to (therefore being able to live on “peanuts and champagne”) the utter filmability of this incredible life seems almost too good to be true. Plot-wise, the film follows his rise to fame through one man shows, the backlash to his comment that “AIDs is a fad” and his subsequent refusal to ever apologise for anything he said, his friendship with young artist Patrick Angus (Jonathan Tucker), then later career as a performer with artist Penny Arcade (Sex and the City‘s Cynthia Nixon, who obviously has a blast with the role), taking the viewer right up to his death in 1999.

While Hurt’s performance is obviously the first remarkable thing one notices in this film, I believe that there is much to be said for relative newcomer Jonathan Tucker as the tormented and AIDS-stricken young artist Patrick Angus. His portrayal of the star-struck young man is heartfelt and heartbreaking, upon later consideration appearing to be the emotional core of the film. It’s during these sequences that we see a deeper side to Crisp, not just the flamboyant and unflappable man that the public knows.

While the performances of Hurt, Tucker, and Denis O’Hare as Phillip Steele, Crisp’s close friend are stellar, I have to admit that there was something lacking in An Englishman in New York for me as a film. This may have something to do with the fact that the film was originally made for television and as a result has a running time of precious few minutes over an hour. I would much rather have spent an extra forty five minutes or so with Quentin, learning more about him. With a screenplay spanning about thirty years, events are skimmed over perhaps without the fanfare and depth they should have been afforded. I can’t praise Hurt’s performance enough, but at the film’s close I still wanted to know more about this amazing, fascinating man who did so much for gay rights. I wanted to more emotional depth, I wanted to know more about Phillip Steele, more about his relationship with Penny Arcade, wanted more of an insight into New York in the 1980s.

That really, was my main problem with the film. While certainly it was fascinating, and certainly it was full of fine performances, there was just…not enough. Not enough emotional depth, not enough characterisation, not enough of an insight into a world that I instantly wanted to journey into after just a few minutes of the film’s running time. I highly recommend going to check out An Englishman in New York if you ever get the chance, to learn a little bit about a fascinating personality and extraordinary life…however, a criminally short running time limits the depths in which we as an audience are able to delve into that life.

I can’t speak for the countless other unemployed students in Melbourne, but I do know this: as I stood in line at the Melbourne International Film Festival box office, I felt an overwhelming excitement and anticipation for the two weeks that are laying ahead of me, like a row of Christmas presents each to be unwrapped, a day at a time.

To be honest, despite the ever-growing pile of pre-production work that is accumulating on my desk and on my laptop, this year’s MIFF certainly comes at an ideal time. There’s something about pondering what might lie in store for a cinephile like myself that makes a cinephile like myself forget about said university woes and instead remember why it is I love film in the first place. It may be a slightly romanticised notion of film that I may be putting to you, but I don’t think that as many people would flock to the various venues around Melbourne if there were not some truth to it. That is, that film as an art form (if I am to be so bold) has the power to transport the viewer to new and wonderous or gruesome places, places only imaginable in our worst nightmares, craziest dreams…or providing insights to those universal of human desires and experiences. Or, to just show us a good time. Whatever works.

At any rate, I’ve bought myself a mini-pass (plus a few extra tickets). That’s around $150 of money I plan on spending to its fullest potential, and expect a play-by-play commentary on the comings and goings of the festival. Or rather, the parts of it I see and hear and explore in between tearing myself back to Real Life.

I’ll be revelling in the Anna Karina retrospective, taking in Alphaville (1965), Une Femme Est Une Femme (1961) and Pierrot Le Fou (1965). How can one turn down that much Godard? I think there’s a lot to be said for the skill/genius/pretensious-factor of a filmmaker whose work I will still sprint to watch even after writing a 2500 word esssay on him mere weeks ago. That being said, I won’t lie… if there were ever a woman I would turn for, it would be a 1960s Anna Karina. My oh my, is she something.

Then, I’ll be hitting up the apparently Dr Strangelove-meets-The-Office-esque In the Loop, the Cannes Jury Prize winning Fish Tank and an intriguing Chilean film called The Maid. I’ll be embarking on an epic Steven Soderbergh journey, with The Girlfriend Experience, and his two part biopic of Che Guevara. I’ll be watching a Malaysian satirical musical, a collection of short films (call it inspiration for my semester ahead), a Russian film about cosmonauts that will apparently make me think of Tarkovsky (this I’m looking forward to) and I’ll be watching an American buddy film about porn.

What else? At least nine more films…you’ll just have to wait and see what lies in store!

MIFF is being held around Melbourne, Victoria from July 24 – August 9, 2009.

Nat (Aden Young), a landowner struggling to keep hold of the entirety of his property, is the father of bright-eyed 12-year-old, Tom (Toby Wallace), and grim teenager, Sarah (Hanna Mangan Lawrence). We discover they are grieving the recent loss of the family’s mother with subsequent depression, due to the loss of his wife, tainting Nat’s relationship with his children. Tom is beginning to understand his father’s loss is causing a rift in their family, and Sarah wants to leave the household for a more conventional married-life, unforgiving of her father for committing her to such a gruelling existence. The arrival of three ex-soldiers, Henry (Pip Miller), Carver (Neil Pigot), and the deathly-ill Jimmy (Eamon Farren), bodes well for Nat and Tom, who see the men as a potential aid to the struggling household. Sarah, her initial distrust of the men blatantly apparent, soon takes interest in young Jimmy, who is hiding gold from his travelling partners. When a psychologically and physically-deteriorating Nat discovers the secrets of the nascent relationship and the gold, he sends the men on their way, but attempts to steal the gold as a last resort to save his land. This decision sparks a dark feud among the family and the men, and nobody is left intact.

Lucky Country may not be your traditional thriller, but it certainly manages to disturb, and not just through gore alone. Perhaps this is because we are so used to Australian settlers being depicted as heroic, hardworking and fortunate personalities; so observing them as greedy and depraved individuals goes against the grain. Nat’s severe pain over his wife’s death is well executed by Aden Young, and his decline into psychosis is eerily similar to that seen in The Shining. Toby Wallace is outstanding as the innocent yet knowing Tom, and Sarah and Carver’s brittle encounters are superbly nuanced with strong sexual tension and fear. The dialogue is a little clunky, but this is redeemed by strong performances from the cast.

Verdict:

An unusual and edgy Australian thriller from director Kriv Stenders, which encapsulates the isolation and desolation of a settler’s existence.

Lucky Country opens across Australia on July 16, 2009.

- Review originally posted June 15th, 2009.

The “my” in the film’s title refers to Natalie (Sacha Horler), a suburban mother of two who is unexpectedly struck down by a brain aneurysm during her pap-smear. Dealt a “yellow card” in life, Natalie is given a list of things she is not allowed to do, the big one being sex. The unlucky man in this scenario is husband Ross (Matt Day), a sound engineer at a local radio station, who is worried that his family won’t be able to stay afloat on his income alone.  Shaken by her near death experience, Natalie begins to ponder what her future holds in this life and the next.

The lack of sex in Natalie and Ross’ marriage is hardly as central to the film as the title makes it out to be. Whilst each month of the year is given its own subtitle with a sexual double meaning, such as ‘missionary position’ and ‘doggy style’, they are mere metaphors for Natalie’s conflict with religion and the family’s acquisition of a pet dog. The challenging question of faith arises after Natalie’s search for guidance sees her befriend the churches’ local curate Margret, who found God after years of rock and roll and substance abuse. Natalie seeks the same warmth Margret gets from the prospect of death, yet struggles to believe in something that cannot be proven. Meanwhile, Ross takes it upon himself to be a more supportive father, yet can seldom get it right in the eyes of Natalie.  The two try and keep their health and financial woes from their kids Louis (Jonathan Segat)  and Ruby (Portia Bradley), who asks if she can exhibit mum’s operational scar at school for show-and-tell. As they push through the challenges each new day presents, the familiarity of the relentless cycle can make for tough viewing. Yet a melodic country soundtrack and clean use of visuals helps to make this a more light-hearted and amicable journey.

Written with such compassion and honesty, it is obvious Sarah Watt holds these characters close to her heart. The challenges they face and questions they ask are ones we are all familiar with, yet are delivered with Watt’s delicate sense of humour that resonates throughout the film.  Watt frequently makes suggestive gestures towards potential plot developments that would make the story more extraordinary, such as winning the lottery or an affair in the workplace. The fact that these don’t eventuate is ultimately what makes the film so extraordinary as it never loses its authenticity. That said, this also sees the film go without a narrative peak, thus  making it feel much longer than it actually is. Some of the characters don’t quite resonate either, such as the curate Margret, who by no real fault of actress Maude Davey is just not that interesting. The remaining characters are delightful, particularly Sacha Horler’s genuine performance as Natalie.  Matt Day earns the sympathy as the supportive husband taking onboard new responsibilities and child stars Portia Bradley and Jonathan Segat show promise of a bright future. Yet the most prominent personality is that of director/writer Sarah Watt, who has crafted a deeply personal film that will win over hearts with its honesty and humility.

Verdict:
My Year Without Sex is a delightfully modest film that overcomes its narrative lulls with authentically crafted characters and astute observations of everyday life.

My Year Without Sex is released in Australia on the 28th May.

The biblical title concerns teenagers Samson and Delilah (non-trained actors Rowan McNamara and Marissa Gibson) but bears little resemblance to the tale itself. Their Alice Springs community is remote and there is little to do day-by-day, but love slowly develops between the two. It’s to Thornton’s credit that this is established with very minimal dialogue – looks really do count for everything as the awkwardness that teens often face settles into comfort and solace. As their journey moves outside the community, lack of words open up the implications of the social divide still existing between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians in the new century. Thornton simplifies his story by using this form of storytelling, but complicates his plot to increase intrigue.

The Adelaide Film Festival’s Audience Award winner is not an easy watch. Thornton, with the triple feat of director/writer/cinematographer, breaks the rules with his framing as he constantly establishes the landscape as the dominator over the Alice Springs community. Primarily distancing us from the characters, the only entry in comes through scenes of anxiety as we see Samson struggle with the trouble he faces. His petrol sniffing speaks as a cry for stability but lets him down at the worst of times – but Thornton doesn’t glorify this, and it’s again to his credit that he can include such an important issue with actual relevance. The varied music is inspired as it offers the teens a form of escape, but often used with contradiction to the plot. Samson and Delilah’s tastes couldn’t be any different – but like any love story, don’t opposites attract?

Using non-trained actors provides a raw quality, with McNamara and Gibson not even needing the conventional on-screen chemistry to make us believe their love-hate relationship. Thornton’s vision is truly unique as he succeeds in creating a film that presents hope amidst confronting situations, and Samson and Delilah importantly brings a realistic and unglorified Indigenous representation to a wide audience. We could be talking wider than Australia if its Cannes screening (as part of the Un Certain Regard selection, a la Ten Canoes) creates international interest.

Verdict:

A bold directorial debut for Warwick Thornton, Samson and Delilah is truly a film of its own. Australia now has something to think about as 2009 continues to be a shining light for our industry.

[Rating: 4/5]

Conventional plot is kicked out the window for the most part as we follow the life of Felicite (Sandrine Bonnaire) in 1800’s Normandy, France – unhappy after she is separated from love Theo (Pascal Elbe). Mainstream films normally don’t lead as a love story and then go askew so early, but here the focus rests on Felicite through the next part of her life, looking after the house of Madame Mathilde Aubain (Marina Fois) and children Clemence and Paul. Based on one of Gustave Flaubert’s Three Tales (the writer known for classic Madame Bovary), A Simple Heart is a period drama that doesn’t focus on the love of intimacy, but rather that of family and the female bond.

Bonnaire does a fine job as Felicite, although you can’t help but sense that the character was written for a younger actress. The relationship between Felicite and Clemence (played by three actresses as she grows) is beautifully bittersweet throughout the first half of the film, with outside characters playing the jealousy cards, so it is disappointing that the latter half doesn’t hold up in comparison. There are instances of over-editing from director Marion Laine, who also adapted the screenplay – too many fade-to-blacks create an episodic feel that doesn’t sit well with the story. While a shift in focus towards Felicite’s bonding with her Master is an interesting turn, along with seeing how her world changes while she still appears exactly the same, the plot drags and you are distanced from all the major events, limiting emotion. This includes the end, which, without giving anything away, is a bit limp.

Verdict:

Relationships are the key in A Simple Heart, but the great first-half build-up leaves you hanging. The abruptness of the story will frustrate you but it has enough poignancy to keep you interested.

A Simple Heart screened as part of the 2009 Alliance Francaise French Film Festival.

Scandinavian films aren’t exactly known to portray the world from a joyful, lighthearted perspective. Maybe it’s something to do with the short and grey winter days, or the hardworking social welfare systems that end up keeping everybody sort of ‘same-same’. Denmark and Sweden usually rank highly in lists of suicide rates, Finland hosted it’s latest in a spate of school shootings a few months ago and semi-Scandi Iceland is in economic turmoil.

Swedish film The King of Ping Pong is no exception to this trend in Scandinavian film making. The Sundance 2008 winner for cinematography is indeed beautiful, but in a bleak way. The spectacular long shots of northern Sweden’s ice and snow covered terrain, and scenes of long walks home on darkened days highlight the loneliness of central character, teenager Rille (an intriguing Jerry Johansson). The desolate, almost foreboding landscape mirrors Rille’s emotions, while the repetitive use of whites, greys, greens and blues depress the mood even more.

Rille is older than the other kids in his isolated area, including his brother Erik, but holds little social power over them except for when it comes to ping pong. Rille is better than the rest, holds the coveted key to the racket cupboard and rules the roost when organising tournaments at the local community centre. But while ping pong may be the only area in which he commands any sort of power or respect, he maintains that it is “the last remaining egalitarian sport”. With a virtually absent father, Rille and his brother are more or less all that each other have, apart from their well-meaning but struggling mother who is romantically involved with the laughing stock of the town, sport store owner Gunnar.

The re-introduction of their father and his fast-rotating lady friends shakes up their world in different ways, with Erik thriving on the contact and Rille retreating away. As Rille repeatedly explains, the differences between he and his brother couldn’t be greater – Erik is small while Rille is big; Erik is impulsive while Rille is more deliberative, and as even more differences are revealed, their relationship shatters.

It’s too much for Rille, and the constant victimisation he is subject to – both direct and indirect – pushes him over the edge. It is here that the film dives into it’s darkest moments, and it becomes difficult to see a happy ending emerge from the coldness and desperation that hangs both literally and figuratively over the film and its characters.

But just like all is not lost for the seemingly depressing and hopeless Scandinavian countries (which are actually lovely places*) neither is it for Rille, although a perfect, summed-up Hollywood ending is nowhere to be found in this thought-provoking piece of cinema.

Verdict:

Don’t expect anything fast-paced or flashy from this Swedish drama – just settle yourself in for a meandering, aesthetically and emotionally intriguing film that touches upon issues of family, loneliness and hierarchy through an adolescents eyes, but in a way much deeper than any child could fathom.

*The author wishes to note that she has lived in Scandinavia and that it really is a beautiful, happy place (except for maybe in the winter when it gets dark early and the sun hides behind clouds for weeks on end)

Risking the prospects of a successful career here, I’m going to reveal myself a little. For a journalism student, I’m not particularly well read. US Presidential campaigns? I wouldn’t say I passionately followed the last one. Bikie gangs? Boring, let’s go and grab a coffee. Seminal works like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas? It’s probably on that long list of books I should read/movies I should see but never get around to. Hunter S. Thompson and gonzo journalism? Oh yeah, that’s vaguely ringing a bell.

I’m watching Gonzo: the Life and Work of Dr Hunter S. Thompson. I don’t read any reviews before it and am surprised to discover that it is a documentary, mashing together file footage, previous documentaries and expositions Thompson’s life, interviews with ex-wives and colleagues and excerpts from films, notably Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas starring Johnny Depp. Depp also makes an appearance in this homage to the late journalist, acting as narrator to the documentary.

The film runs chronologically, documenting his early days as a struggling freelancer, his year with the Hells Angels resulting in a book of the same name, his close bid for Sheriff in small-town America, the basis of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and his behaviour and influence during the 1972 McGovern presidential campaign. In a nutshell, Thompson’s ‘gonzo’ style saw his own persona and views inserted into the otherwise bland and objective recounts that were being published as ‘news’ at the time. Rolling Stone magazine acted as the platform for Thompson’s articles, as the man who was continually embroiled in a rock star lifestyle – sex, drugs and more, including guns – became arguably bigger than the stories themselves.

Like the Thompson’s own style, the film is brazen, honest and at times ironic. A 70s soundtrack keeps the story moving along, as does the almost unbelievable accounts of his antics. The man seemed to be constantly skirting the boundaries of both journalism and life, and while Thompson took his own life (via a gun) in 2005, his legacy lives on in both his words and in documentaries like this, leaving me wondering what his view would be on the events of today, notably the global financial crisis and the 2008 Obama/McCain run for the Whitehouse.

Verdict:

A good piece of media, be it film, article or otherwise should help you think for yourself and question the world around you. This doco does all that and more, and whether you agree with the man’s morals, ethics and journalistic style, Gonzo is likely to keep you entertained and intrigued to the very end.