To international audiences, French cinema is the best example of bringing us films about love and desire – you only need to look to Amelie as a primary example. The recurring romantic genre helps sustain popularity for French cinema, and that idea isn’t lost on organisers of the Alliance Francaise French Film Festival in Australia. Period drama A Simple Heart (Un coeur simple) delivers a love story lost to bad timing and a different sense of direction.

As its title so blatantly suggests, Knowing likes to think it knows the answers to life’s big questions; is human life the result of random chance, or was it predetermined? Do we control our future, or is it decided for us?  Are we alone in the universe, or is there life beyond Earth? Is Nicolas Cage still capable of making a good film, or will The Wicker Man forever be his undoing?

 There’s certainly a cruel irony to watching a film about Blindness, one that director Fernando Meirelles (The Constant Gardner) does not treat lightly. Despite its post-apocalyptic setting, Blindness is by no means a popcorn thriller in the same vein as 28 Days Later or I am Legend, aiming to be more confrontational than entertaining. The film takes a cold look at the ugly side of mankind; when a group of individuals are placed in confinement after being infected with a viral case of bizarre blindness, they ultimately lose sight of their morality more than anything else. Yet the bleakness Mierelles endlessly conveys isn’t as intriguing or poignant as one would have hoped. The overabundance of symbolism continues to suggest a deeper meaning, but because Mierelles gets too caught worry about the films aesthetics, such a message never truly comes into focus.

Question: “There’s this guy that I like, we get along really well. I get the idea he’s interested, and all of my friends think so too because there’s so many signs that all add up. But he’s not asking me out! Should I ask him out instead? Should I give him a call? I can call him, right?

As the lights dim, I wonder about just what it is that I have gotten myself into. The crowd hushes, and the opening scenes begin. A man taps at a typewriter as he narrates in first person what he was doing on the day the twin towers of the World Trade Centre came down. A TV sits in the corner of his lounge room replaying those key scenes of the planes hitting the buildings, as the man explains the consequences of the event on the state of the world. I find myself agreeing with his words and their loaded yet honest truth.

 It’s taken the Film Finance Corporation and the South Australia Film Corporation a few years to get this off the ground, with title changes and shooting delays among the issues, but Adelaide audiences were treated to the world premiere of Closed for Winter at the BAFF. The adaptation of Georgia Blain’s novel has hit bumps both throughout production and in the final product, but a decent story gives us good expectation for Australian film in the year ahead.

I consider myself an apolitical person. My voting record is, shall we say, sketchy. There’s so much bullshit involved in the whole process that I can’t stand to see ordinary people drained of their character and droning platitudes in public. I don’t quite understand the Obama phenomenon for that reason, but I admire his obvious skill in making a frighteningly large percentage of the global population become enamoured with a lawyer.

Don’t try and deny it; you’re only considering seeing this film because it has the word ‘porno’ in the title. Either that or you’re hoping to see Elizabeth Banks in the nuddy, even if it means having to look between Seth Rogen’s crown jewels to do so. If I was right about the last reason, unfortunately for you both Banks and Rogen don’t bare it all this comedy about two friends who attempt to make a porn flick in a desperate bid for cash. But don’t despair too much; Zack and Miri Make a Porno – a title which takes after Snakes On A Plane in being a self-proclaimed plot summary – features it’s fair share of nudity, dirty sex jokes and a 70′s porno soundtrack that will have you saying  “bow-chicka-wow-wow” at anything remotely sexual for the next week.