Sunday, June 17, 2012

Review: Le Chef

Le Chef
Dir. Daniel Cohen
Country: France
Aus Rating: M15+
Running Time: 83mins

France makes so many movies that it’s impossible for them all to get released. Of the seven Best Film nominees at the César Awards, the “French Oscars”, only four have received an Australian release. Amazingly, 70 French films have already been released into French cinemas this year, which makes it all the more galling that Australian Francophiles get such limp, lifeless fluff like Le Chef. So often these frothy French tales of (apparent) swoony romance are called “soufflés” for the way they remain lighter than air, except in this case the soufflé is flavourless and deflates in an instant. Even its bland, innocuous title seems disinterested and we haven’t even gotten to the actors, the editing, the writing, the… well, you get the picture.

Read the rest at Trespass Magazine

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Review: Rock of Ages

Rock of Ages
Dir. Adam Shankman
Country: USA
Aus Rating: M15+
Running Time: 123mins

Will you wanna put another dime in the box office, or ask for a refund? It’s inevitable that the latest all-singing-sorta-all-dancing extravaganza from Adam Shankman (Hairspray), Rock of Ages, based upon the 2006 Broadway musical of the same name, will get compared to Glee – what with them sharing an affinity for bright-eyed moppets singing songs in squeaky, polished voices – but this being a big screen event audiences should be hoping for something more. More is certainly what they get, whether that’s any good…

Read the rest at Trespass Magazine

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Review: Take This Waltz

Take This Waltz
Dir. Sarah Polley
Country: Canada
Aus Rating: MA15+
Running Time: 116mins

Cinema has taught us that it’s always the quiet ones that are most dangerous. That’s certainly the case for the seemingly unsuspecting Take This Waltz, a sunny dramedy that lulls its viewers with pseudo quirks, but which actually hides an altogether terrifying dead heart that clubs viewers over the head with its nauseating examination of an insufferable, unhappy woman. Oh sure, Hollywood can throw any number of whiz-bang special effects at me, but nothing in Battleship was as offensive as the dialogue in Take This Waltz. “I’m afraid of connections”, says Michelle Williams’ Margot as she strains to hide the metaphor in her ramblings. She’s afraid of airport connections, you see, but just try listening to that scene and not want to vomit from how obvious it reads. “I’m afraid of being… in between.” Oh please.

Read the rest at Trespass Magazine

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Review: Mabo

Mabo
Dir. Rachel Perkins
Country: Australia
Aus Rating: PG
Running Time: 103mins

Aboriginal history holds a vital position amongst the Australian film landscape. Movies that deal with the first Australians and their modern day descendants are frequently amongst the strongest that this country produces, and their makers are some of the absolute finest this land has to offer. One just has to think of Warwick Thornton’s Samson & Delilah, Ivan Sen’s Beneath Clouds, Rachel Perkins’ Radiance, or many others to see that these stories are special and their storytellers are gifted individuals. ABC’s telemovie, Mabo, is no difference, but while it never reaches the cinematic heights of its big screen cousins, this wonderfully acted and superbly designed television feature is a strong piece of work from its makers. It’s fitting timing, too, on the 20-year anniversary that this fine film should come into our homes.

Read the rest at Onya Magazine

Those who are interested, Mabo airs tonight on ABC1 at 8.30.

Weirdly Weird

This morning I read a nicely put piece on the issue of "weird for weirdness' sake" that argues people who make such complains about certain films are using a film's very unique quality as a scapegoat for their inability to like a film. I've seen films that are weird and liked them, and I've seen films that are weird and disliked them, but while I can sometimes understand a person's misgivings over a film due to some impenetrable oddness, I also don't think it's a filmmaker's responsibility to be coherent when they're not working in a familiar wheelhouse. Personally, I think to say a film by David Lynch is "weird for weirdness' sake" is to, quite frankly, not be paying any attention whatsoever, but I can certainly see where somebody could find his variety of weird cinema unpalatable. There's a big difference between personally not liking it and thinking the director has nothing to say. This all ties nicely together with a double feature that I attended this last past week of Alejandro Jodorowsky films at The Astor Theatre.

I'd never seen any of this famed Mexican director's work before, so the chance to his two most famous titles together on the big screen in 35mm prints was one I wasn't going to pass up (it meant skipping the press screening of Jennifer Westfeldt's Friends with Kids that I'm not terribly upset about). I had heard much about Jodorowsky's famed 1970 cult breakthrough, El Topo, but I know now that one can never know what to expect. If I see any of this man's other work I certainly won't make the mistake of thinking I know what I'm getting myself in for It's history as one of the original "midnight movies" was a definite lure, and in that regard I am certainly glad I got the chance to see it (one can't have an opinion on a film without actually see it, no matter what the internet tells us these days), but I can't say I enjoyed the film too much. Yes, it's quite strange, but it's strangeness isn't particularly interesting or portrayed in any visually arresting manner. The film's second half, with its exploitation of disfigured incest victims featuring quite prominently alongside its heavy religious iconography, proved to be a further tedious excursion into a rather uninteresting world that Jodorowsky had crafted. I'm sure Jodorowsky was going for something, but what that something was remains a mystery to me, hidden by laboured storytelling and an excessive run time.

Technically there's skill there, no doubt. I found particular fascination within the soundtrack that Jodorowsky constantly fills with noise despite the barren landscapes. Whether its an army of clucking chickens, gusty winds, mulling goats and the like, the speakers are certainly working overtime when other aspects are not. I got a kick out of the costume design by Jodorowsky himself that I could see had influenced the likes of Tarsem Singh's The Fall. Sadly, I found the film just never went anywhere potent enough to justify its crude stylistic flourishes and disturbing imagery.


The second feature, The Holy Mountain, on the other hand, was an entirely different experience. Dealing with a lot of the same issues as El Topo with its frequently confronting religious imagery and weird segues, I was instantly taken by it unlike its predecessor. The Holy Mountain was, I was surprised to discover, the next feature of Jodorowsky's career. A surprise because it feels like a rapid maturation and major advancement over the sloppy El Topo, but also because it proved that it wasn't just my distinct lack of pharmaceutical aid during the screening of El Topo that made me not enjoy it. The Holy Mountain is an awe-inspiring step for Jodorowsky and one that left me in a constant state of slack-jawed admiration. With its clean, assured direction, phenomenal art direction (truly some of the best I have ever seen), absurd imagery, bonkers descent into comedic oddity, and endlessly fascinating mythology I was entranced by The Holy Mountain.


I was disturbed, as one should be, by the very real animal cruelty as well as the questionable prepubescent child nudity and irksome representation of gay figures (all of which were also found within El Topo, and I suspect his later works, too), but at least this third feature of his came accompanied with such a strong, stylistic vision that I found it less troublesome. For the first hour, certainly, I just couldn't keep my eyes off of the screen as Jodorowsky threw dazzling image after dazzling image at me. From the opening scene of a robed man performing a religious act upon two women in a sterile white and black room I was hooked. I don't really know what any of it means, but I was fascinated nonetheless. Pockets of people amongst the audience were chuckling away at the odd imagery - the toad city for instance - but I mostly sat there with my serious face on, soaking it all in. This was powerful stuff and I was determined to not let Jodorowsky's obvious nods to El Topo's pot-headed legacy get in the way. Of course, by the time one character started humping a mountainside, followed by what can only be described as "tiger tits", something in my brain snapped. I ended up cackling for several minutes straight and then at frequent intervals thereafter until the ending. Oh, that ending? Yeah. Wow. I can't even, ya know? I don't even want to know what the director was smoking when he planned out The Holy Mountain. Something dangerous, no doubt. It's of little surprise that John Lennon and Yoko Ono helped finance the picture, also.


These two films seem like excellent mirrors to any debate about "weird for weirdness' sake". Both are weird, sure, but I found only The Holy Mountain did it in the context of a film with the gravity and the scope to give the impression of having a deeper meaning. In contrast, El Topo felt like little more than shenanigans. Even if I didn't entirely get what it was all about, it's a film of truly epic visual power - visuals that took my breath away - and one that really can't imagine experiencing on a small screen. Thank god The Astor Theatre (once again), hey?