Twin Peaks x10

Writing that bit about David Lynch and Twin Peaks put me in a mood. Doesn't it always when you think about Twin Peaks, even just momentarily?

Review: The Man From Hong Kong

The Man from Hong Kong
Dir. Brian Trenchard-Smith & Jimmy Wang Yu
Year: 1975
Aus Rating: R18+ (DVD: MA15+)
Running Time: 111mins

The Man from Hong Kong begins with a fist fight on top of Uluru and ends with George Lazenby being - very literally - set on fire. In between there are explosions, kung fu, abseiling, hang gliding, sword fights, grenades, sniper rifles, Chinese food, cars flying through weatherboard houses, nudity, party crashers, assassins, slapstick comedy plus "Sky High" by 1970s one-hit wonders Jigsaw as the movie's theme song! Does this not amaze you?

The plot, what litter there is to be attained in between fight sequences, is this: Some Chinese dude must come to Australia to take a drug dealer back to Hong Kong, but he then becomes involved in some sort of mission to bring down Sydney's biggest drug kingpin. Or something to that effect. It really doesn't matter, does it?

The action scenes, courtesy mostly of Jimmy Wang Yu, are what anybody watching this movie in this day and age is after and they don't disappoint. Apart from the opening scene at Uluru, there is the famous stunt wherein Yu kicks a man off of a moving motorbike and - my favourite - the knife fight in the Chinese restaurant, there are battles with a pack of kung fu experts, a car chase along a cliff and a moment that would cause PC cops today to shudder at the media attention it would receive. While making former "James Bond" George Lazenby look like a profession martial arts expert is a challenge, there are moments when the action is full on. You can tell it's real when the dirty footprints are left on the shirt of a man who has just been kicked in the gut by an agile kung fu master.


In other regards the film is not so much of a success. Acting is generally quite woeful with Yu being the worst offender and his occasional love interests - Rebecca Gilling predominantly - all register nil on a score of ten. At least George Lazenby is having fun! Or was he? At least the cinematography by future Oscar-winner Russell Boyd is lively and the score by Noel Quinlan is energetic and exciting like many scores from this period of Australian cinema. I'm surprised Quentin Tarantino hasn't used bits of the score in his films! Actually, the entire car chase that happens towards the end of the film was, surely, the inspiration for the near-identical scene that Tarantino featured in Death Proof.

One of the film's guiltiest pleasures is watching in shock and awe at how incredibly racist the film is. And while it is the Asian race that bares the brunt of it, the white people are presented as such moronic doofuses on many occasions that I can't help but feel writer/director Brian Trenchard-Smith was an equal opportunist in this department! How does one explain the scene in which Yu is kissing a girl and she mentions her surprise at how good it it, to which he responds with a joke about acupuncture! And just moments earlier the woman was making slanty-eye jokes! Or when asked "do you normally sleep with white women" he replies "Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays." I am not making this up! And then there's the barrage of comments from the white police officers such as "I find Chinese make the best servants" and "I never met a Chinese yet that didn't have a yellow streak." My personal favourite, if you can call it that, was "This is Australia, not 55 Days at Peking!" Er, if you say so, but I was sure I saw Charlton Heston sulking around in the background at one point!

Having seen Mark Hartley's Not Quite Hollywood helps, as witnessing the moments discussed in that award-winning documentary is something to behold. Watch as a car door flies perilously close to the camera after an explosion with the knowledge that it actually was that close! Watch as stunt men (or, usually, just regular actors being paid a pittance) get flung about onto cars and into rivers. Watch as George Lazenby accidentally gets set on fire, resulting in Lazenby being sent to hospital, and watch how Yu interacts with the white women in the cast, knowing now as we do that he actually despised white women and would eat bugs before having to kiss one. He was such a lovely man, I'm sure.


Truly a time capsule worth cherishing for ways that, perhaps, aren't the purest, The Man from Hong Kong is a blast of energy that is sorely lacking within the Australian film industry right now. The size and scope of the entire film is impressive - especially since it was Trenchard-Smith's first feature - and it remains mind-boggling that they were able to get away with half of this. People aren't even allowed to walk up Uluru anymore, let alone stage and elaborate fight sequence! It's a hoot and I don't care what you say! B

Review: Crush

Crush
Dir. John V Soto & Jeffrey Gerritsen
Year: 2009
Aus Rating: M
Running Time: 77mins

In my effort to review Australian films whenever I can, I sometimes come across a movie that just defies belief. How, in 2009, did Crush happen? It's not 1982 anymore and just like Prey (read about that one here) it is just so fantastical that it's hard to believe anybody thought they were making a movie that legitimate paying audiences would go and see.

Buried within the plot of Crush is a Fatal Attraction via Obsessed by way of The Crush (that Alicia Silverstone movie from the early 1990s if you remember it). Unfortunately it doesn't have the bravado of the former or the campness of the latter titles. I am actually not making it up when I say Crush - the directorial debuts of John V Soto and Jeffrey Gerritsen - is about an American taekwondo champion who now lives in Perth, WA, who works as a house sitter and becomes entangled with a babe who has supernatural powers. I am not joking. That is the plot of a movie released in 2009. Unfortunately, unlike Prey, Crush doesn't have a sense of humour, so when a character starts having sex with a corpse it's icky and not hilarious. There's a fine line there, folks!


Crush stars Christopher Egan, formerly of Home & Away, and he spends only a small portion of the running time sans shirt. Needless to say, what good is gonna do with a shirt on? His American accent is poor and it comes and goes at the drop of a hat. The big misfire of the film, however, is Emma Lung. I'm not sure what forced her to take this role other than the necessity to pay her rent. Lung is a sublime actress and has demonstrated that in films such as Peaches, Stranded and The Jammed, but here she is nothing more than a .5-dimensional babe-in-a-bikini. To make it worse, by the time her character's true evil starts to show it is just not fun. Not as deranged as Glenn Close, nor as absurd as Ali Larter. The rest of the film is filled with people you've never heard of, so no point going there.

John V Soto appears to have decided that he is the next Everett De Roche, saviour of Australian genre flicks. He wrote Prey as well as Crush and has co-directing honours on it too. Somebody within the wheelhouse likes him, but if he wants to bring genre back to Aussie audiences he's going to have to do a lot more than the meagre offerings on offer here. Even when De Roche's work was bad (I'm looking at your Harlequin!) it was original. When he was good it was Patrick and Road Games, which are classic cinema that trade on more than just cheap scares.


Crush looks pretty, that's for sure, although for a movie filmed in Perth they haven't exactly gone out of their way to incorporate that into the movie. I guess Perth suburbs are the same as Sydney suburbs then? A boring and repetitive soundtrack, filled with rock songs (and one incredibly miscast Silverchair number) that would've played at a backyard BBQ 10 years ago, as well as a flat and uninspiring direction make Crush a major disappointment. I really wanted to enjoy this as a hilarious, B-grade effort. It should have been hysterical when Egan accidentally hits himself with a hockey bat, but it's not particularly. When Lung says ridiculous dialogue like "my body is dead, but my soul isn't" I should have been howling, but it's actually just silly. Now if she's fired laser beams from her eyes and made a Ming vase explode I may have jumped on board! Too much taekwondo and not enough pop divas being punched in the face, I say! D-

Review: Mao's Last Dancer

Mao's Last Dancer
Dir. Bruce Beresford
Year: 2009
Aus Rating: PG
Running Time: 117mins

Some readers may be surprised to learn that Mao’s Last Dancer is indeed an Australian film. Being set primarily in China and the USA, and featuring mostly American actors, it would be easy to not realise the Australian connection, but it is funded solely by Australia, and underneath the international sheen is a collection of Australian talent. Hopefully, the tact works, and this film becomes a local and international success, because it would be nice to see audiences respond to this Australian telling of a very worldly tale.


My full review of Mao's Last Dancer can be found at Onya.

Review: Van Diemen's Land

Van Diemen's Land
Dir. Jonathan Auf Der Heide
Year: 2009
Aus Rating: MA15+
Running Time: 104mins

"Arthouse Horror Porn" (wank-fest), noun, 1. A variety of horror films targeted at the arthouse crowd that allows them the visceral thrill of watching people die in gruesome ways while also providing them with the minimal dialogue, long tracking shots and artful cinematography that they crave, allowing them to nod their head in approval and extol such lines as "yes, it's a film about the human condition" while they simultaneously look down on those who prefer horror films to actually be scary, thrilling and/or fun. 2. A sub-genre of film that allows filmmakers to indulge in gore and violence while masquerading behind a wall of pretentiousness and wankery.

3. Jonathan Auf Der Heide's Van Diemen's Land.

Set during the times of Australia's colonisation, Van Diemen's Land is set in the titular island off the south-west coast of Australia (nowadays called Tasmania) and follows the confessions of Alexander Pearce, a convict who was convicted of murder and cannibalism and hanged in 1824. He and seven other prisoners escaped their Penal Settlement and trekked their way through the Tasmanian wilderness before eventually turning to eating each other to fend off hunger.


Curiously, the story of Alexander Pearce was used as the basis of the dire horror film Dying Breed less than a year ago as well as the TV film The Confessions of Alexander Pearce from earlier this year. I have not seen the latter, but while Van Diemen's Land is much better than Dying Breed it gets nowhere close to being a good movie. It starts out promisingly enough, but soon descends into a dull, tedious mess. Van Diemen's Land is pretentiousness of the highest order.

The film is competently made from a technical standpoint, that's for sure. The cinematography by Ellery Ryan is gorgeous, yes, but filled with shots of things like the sky and trees blowing in the wind. It works here most of the time, until it becomes apparent that they're being thrown in at anytime when the story has nowhere to go. It is filmed in an almost monochrome style punctuated occasionally by the rich green forestry of Tasmania. Sound design and sound editing are also noteworthy, especially the oft-gruesome scenes of munching, biting and chewing. Grisly stuff, there. Performances run from hot to cold though with Mark Leonard Winter and Torquil Neilson proving to be best in show. As Alexander Pearce, Oscar Redding is transparent. Sure, you could say it is the character, but nothing Redding does on screen registers one iota.


The first half of Van Diemen's Land is actually quite good, however, once the nasty stuff begins, it shifts gears and all the tension that had been built comes crushing down. All the best characters either get eaten or simply walk off screen never to return. The atmosphere morphs into boredom as the numbers on screen dwindle and the interactions between them go with it. Dialogue becomes almost non-existent and the only intrigue - who's going to die next - is hindered by the fact that these characters are all deathly dull with no interesting aspects to them at all. Something could have been made out of the Pearce tale that really took a look at the madness that can form in situations as horrific as these, but Van Diemen's Land is not it. To take a pun from Pearce's nickname of "The Pieman", Van Diemen's Land is like a soggy meat pie. It's got the right ingredients, but by this stage it's no good to anyone and you may as well throw it out. C-

Review: $9.99

$9.99
Dir. Tatia Rosenthal
Year: 2009
Aus Rating: M
Running Time: 78mins

The latest in the very short list of Australian feature animations is called $9.99. Is it worth its title in a movie ticket? Probably not, but those who are willing to go along for this incredibly bizarre piece of stop-motion filmmaking will surely find something within it to tickle your fancy. A co-production between Australia and Israel, $9.99 is the second animated feature to come out of this country this year after Adam Elliot’s superb Mary and Max, and while that title is by far the superior one, it is encouraging to see such a medium being embraced by filmmakers, even if there’s no chance of them ever reaching the box office heights of even the most C-grade American animation.


Read the rest over at Onya Magazine.

Review: Blessed

Blessed
Dir. Ana Kokkinos
Year: 2009
Rating: MA15+
Running Time: 117mins

There comes a moment late into Ana Kokkinos’ latest adventure through suburban woe that features Frances O’Connor, and it will surely hit any viewer like a punch from Mike Tyson right in the gut. So visceral is the moment that it rattled me for quite some time after the credits had rolled and its effects may actually give the illusion that Kokkinos is responsible for having made a good movie.

She is not and she has not.


To read the rest, head on over to Onya Magazine.

Capsule Review: Closed for Winter

Closed for Winter
Dir. James Bogle
Year: 2009
Aus Rating: M
Running Time: 86mins

I don't really know how to describe this film in any smart way. There's only one word for it, and that's STRANGE. Strange with a capital everything. Sure, there are other words I could use like "bad", "unfulfilling" and "laughable", but I always seem to come back to "STRANGE". Like how the character played by Natalie Imbruglia, her is Elise, is so strange and how strangely everything she does facilitates a flashback. Everything from staring out of a window - Imbruglia does this a lot - to putting a key into a keyhole to watering the garden. Stranger still is the mother, played by Deborah Kennedy, who plays the same character in present day as well as flashback from 25 years ago and yet looks exactly the same! Strangest of all is Daniel Frederickson's character, Elise's boyfriend, who is played entirely for laughs in a story about a mysterious child disappearance and possible child rape! Yikes.

Strangeness continues during scenes featuring rave clubs, gardening montages and all the particularly strange moments when Elise just gets incredibly angry over the smallest of things. And then there's the strange way the film is edited and constructed. Oh look, the camera is zooming in on something integral to the upcoming flashback! Ay ay ay. I really can't explain it and it was so strange that I can't even form a proper critique of it. Let's just say it's poorly acted, badly written, blandly filmed and with no apparent taste barrier (did we really need all those near-slapstick comedy moments at the boyfriends' house?) There's Aussie Gothic and then there's just silliness.


And strangeness. D

Review: Lake Mungo

Lake Mungo
Dir. Joel Anderson
Year: 2009
Rating: M
Running Time: 87mins

David Lynch is, perhaps, not the chief person you would think of to inspire an Aussie ghost story, but there it is clear as day right there on the screen. Joel Anderson's debut film, the suspense-filled fright fest called Lake Mungo (for those unaware of Australian geography, it is a real place and holds the key to the film's central mystery). In retrospect I feel like those haunting synethesisers of Angelo Badalamenti's Twin Peaks theme should play over the - very eerie - opening credits. It's actually a shame that the overriding sense of Anderson snatching bits and pieces of Lynch's resume is so obvious because it occasionally distracts from what is a really great movie.

Filmed in the style of a documentary, Lake Mungo traces the story of Australian teenager Alice Palmer who accidentally drowned in a weir while on holiday with her family. Her family believes her ghost is haunting their suburban home and in trying to solve the mystery, they uncover the dark secrets that Alice withheld. The same secrets that, ultimately, cost her her life. The similarities to Twin Peaks are already immense. Throw in paedophiles, hidden video tapes, sexual escapades, supernatural twists, kooky doctors and even a scene in which a man is seen hiding behind a piece of furniture in Alice's bedroom and you've got yourself a sort of mix tape of Lynchian Twin Peaks shenanigans. And I'm not even mentioning the fact that the film's biggest scare is seemingly taking a big ol' page out of the INLAND EMPIRE book. Oh wait, there I go talking about it. I told myself I wouldn't!


Thankfully though, the film emerges out of these shadows that it creates and succeeds at being a scary little movie that you should try and seek out with its scares that are far more creative than the latest piece of Hollywood pap. It is not jump-out-your-seats-gasping sort of scary (although that did happen to me once, I literally JUMPED OUT OF MY SEAT!) but works with the sort of frights that creep up on you. The emergence of a shadowy figure in the background or the sudden appearance of a figure in the frame. The hairs on the back of neck stood on end and at several moments I found myself cowering in my seat.

While the film owns an obvious debt to David Lynch, there is also a strong element of The Blair Witch Project. From the opening title card and onwards, the film actually makes the faux-documentary structure work for it. Ghosts are always going to be less scary and harder to make work than being alone in the forest with things that go bump in the night, so presenting the film as a documentary, as if it is true and real and not just a story being told by a group of filmmakers, really helps overcome that. Suspension of belief becomes true believing.


It also helps that the film is so well cast. While Talia Zucker doesn't get much of a chance to shine as the deceased Alice, Rosie Traynor, David Pledger, Chloe Armstrong and Martin Sharpe all work wonderfully, as assorted family and friends of Alice, in letting the viewer believe the situation that is unfolding before their eyes. At one point when I thought the film was beginning to wear out its welcome - a scene at the titular Lake Mungo filmed entirely on a mobile phone camera - it does a complete 180 that results in one of the scariest moments I've seen on screen in a while.

And make sure you stay during the closing credits. Just as with the opening credits, the closers are creepy and have stayed with me. They also made me want to watch the movie again right that second to see if Anderson had been as smart all along as he is implying (you'll see what I mean). And then, again, wait until the very end where the film ends with a flash of eerie imagery, which reminds me to also mention the fantastic cinematography of John Brawley. A documentary-styled movie might not seem like the natural place for fantastic lensing, but some of the images on show here are frightening and deceptive in their simplicity. Lake Mungo is one of the finest and most original scary tales in a long time. B+

Review: The Young Victoria

The Young Victoria
Dir. Jean-Marc Vallée
Year: 2009
Aus Rating: PG
Running Time: 100mins

Did you not think there were enough big hats in The Duchess? Did you think Elizabeth: The Golden Age could have done with a bit more frilly lace? Did Becoming Jane's heroine just not rise above society's sexism enough for your liking? Was The Other Boleyn Girl just too much like an episode of Melrose Place with just a lot of big flouncy dresses? Then you may just like The Young Victoria, a new period costume drama as directed by Canadian Jean-Marc Vallée, a man who was probably only hired because his name sounds French and prestigious and, thus, looks impressive on a movie poster. Bless 'em for trying.

The problem with The Young Victoria is that it is exactly the movie you expect it to be. If you have seen the trailers and the ads on the tele ("she's changed the world while wearing puffy sleeves - she deserves your attention!" is what I imagine they say) then you probably will. A lady behind me at my session was shedding tears by films end, which is a sign that the film's orchestral score had done their job for at least one attendee. For me, however, it mostly fails to do anything verging on different.


In case you had not figured yet, there is no twist in the title for The Young Victoria. It is not some Marie Antoinette-esque telling of Queen Victoria's story in which she is actually played by someone very old who wears Doc Martins. No, no, Queen Victoria's story of love and loss AND THEN LOVE AGAINOMG!!! is played by the usually quite wonderful Emily Blunt. She is an actress who has proven a strong force on screen and has given performances in films like The Devil Wears Prada and My Summer of Love that have elevated said films. Unfortunately here she is forced to put on a weak girlishness while sporting ridiculous curls in her hair that, I guess, are meant to provide the illusion of her being younger than her 26 years. They do not work. Throughout the entire film she looks exactly the same! Hmmm.

Was anybody else aware that Queen Victoria's life was just like that out of a romance novel? Oh yes. Watch as she DEFIES HER PARENTS! Watch as she begins a SECRET LOVE AFFAIR! Watch as she must STEP OUT FROM THE SHADOW OF MEN THAT SURROUND HER! Watch as she WEARS A GREEN DRESS... ANDTHENABLUEONEOMG!!!

Speaking of the dresses, they are indeed very pretty as designed by Sandy Powell, costume designer extraordinaire. I did, however, get the impression that she just borrowed the costumes from the set of an identical movie. I could have sworn that I'd seen them before! The art direction, too, is quite nice to look at and as unimpressive as Blunt and the rest of the cast is, at least they too are attractive. I'm not sure why the genes in the British royal family mean that once someone fits a certain age their looks just VANISH, but it appears that is the case. Everyone who is young in the royal family is gorgeous, everyone who is older is just soggy and saggy.


I'm not sure how Vallée made Miranda Richardson uninteresting, but he did. Ala Charlotte Rampling's role in last year's The Duchess, she doesn't have much to do other than stand in doorways and look unimpressed by things. Rupert Friend is okay as the Queen's suitor and it's always nice to see Paul Bettany in something that is not Wimbledon.

As I said before, if you like the look of this movie then, by all means, go along. Martin Scorsese and Sarah "Fergie" Ferguson need your money!! Just don't expect surprises. Or suspense. Or emotional conflict. Or anything remotely resembling a scene in which Queen Victoria yells about having a hurricane within her. If she did then I fear we never got to see it, which is a shame and that generally makes the film a wash. I do want to send out a big piece of praise, however, to Harriet Walter. She was quite excellent in her brief role. Shame the rest of the film couldn't rise to her level. C-

Review: The September Issue

The September Issue
Dir. RJ Cutler
Year: 2009
Aus Rating: PG
Running Time: 90mins

Watching the new documentary The September Issue is, at times, quite strange. It was made in 2007, which means its filming started before the similarly-themed The Devil Wears Prada was released and became a worldwide hit. Director RJ Cutler must have been kicking himself that he hadn't come up with this idea a couple of years earlier, which would have made its release come at the same time, making it able to feed off of that Hollywoodised version of the tale. It's also funny that the world of fashion is so deep into trends and seasons and yet this movie is coming out nearly two years after the fashions it features would have run their course and been thrown out by the "fashionistas" and fashionista wannabes that rush to purchase Vogue so they can feel in the know. Everybody watching The September Issue will be judging the clothes as much as they will the movie itself, and it adds an interesting dynamic in knowing that this is all from two years ago. Interesting too is that barely any of the clothes featured within are the sort of outfits that regular people could indeed purchase and wear on a coffee date. Such is the world of fashion.

As the poster states, "Fashion is a religion, this is the bible" and The September Issue goes a good way in showing just why. In its brisk - very brisk - 90 minute running time we follow the five month process that goes into creating the famed "September issue" of Vogue. Given unlimited access to the work (and occasional home) life of editor-in-chief Anna Wintour, it is this that gives the film an edge over a more broadly-based documentary on the fashion industry.


Wintour has been called many things, least offensively being "bitch" (yes, least offensive), but while she can, at times, come off as quite passive aggressive, a bitch she is not. Not to those who she cares for anyway. She's blunt, yes, but if you were in charge a media empire such as Vogue and you lived and breathed it every day of the year then I am sure you'd lose the ability to be subtle too. And the old expression is as true here as it's ever been; if Wintour was a man she would be commended for doing such a great job, but because she's a woman she is "cold" and "a bitch". It's unfortunate then that the film doesn't delve into Wintour's opinions on those ideas. It sticks strictly to the fashion and in that regards the film succeeds.

Watching this alternate universe work is quite fascinating. Watching not only Wintour, but also the likes of her fashion editor Grace Coddington, up-and-coming designer Thakoon, eccentric and flamboyant editor-at-large André Leon Talley and the many models, art directors, photographers and assistants that populate the offices at Vogue. Not enough time is given to them, unfortunately, but thankfully Cutler has recognised what a wonderful personality he has in Coddington, who eventually becomes the star of the film with her giant mass of hair and her defiant opinions on Wintour's methods. The film truly sparks when she is on screen.

Wintour herself, however, does prove to be an enjoyable person from time to time. It's quite endearing to see her cracking jokes when she has the reputation she does. She is confident and motivated and worked her arse off to get the best magazine she can onto the shelves. She is in charge of this empire and that means not talking to the models in a way that would please them then so be it. Having seen the mammoth task she undertakes - remember that whilst this "september issue" is being produced there are still other issues to be published - then I think comes off more than acceptable.


One person who doesn't come out smelling quite as nice is, unfortunately for her, Sienna Miller. The actress whose managers somehow got her onto the cover of the September issue that the film follows. Miller is ripped to shreds by this movie. Whether its everybody and their pets talking about how bad her hair is, to the photographer blaming her for a photoshoot in Room not working and then to everyone complaining her teeth are too big in one shot while her neck isn't right in another. Poor gal probably won't wanna sit down to watch The September Issue any time soon.

In the end though The September Issue is a fun time at the movies. It overflows with gorgeous feathers, frills and fashion with a great collection of characters on show. It's not all light and fluffy, but its never a drag. One just wishes that the director had used this unique and rare opportunity that he was given to truly delve into some of the more serious issues on hand such as sexism and the idea that fashion is nothing more than a waste of time by people who think football is the height of greatness. B-

MIFF 2009 Review: The White Ribbon

The White Ribbon
Dir. Michael Haneke
Year: 2009
Aus Rating: N/A
Running Time: 144mins

As some people will be aware, I have a strange relationship when it comes to Austrian filmmaker Michael Haneke. Of the films from his resume that I have seen, opinions run wild from the excellence of Hidden to the appalling Time of the Wolf. I have routinely felt that he is a director who feels he is better than you, me and everyone we know. Although his recent shot-for-shot remake of his own dire Funny Games proves that, perhaps, he's not as smart as he thinks. All this brings me to The White Ribbon, a movie that feels like none other than Haneke has made.

This latest, the winner of the Palme d'Or at Cannes earlier this year, feels distinctly different to his previous work. Not so much more conventional as it is made with more conventional ingredients. There's a love story, notably pretty cinematography and a fluid flow made out of less stagnant shots. Of course that doesn't mean the movie is any more mainstream than The Piano Teacher. There is a mystery that doesn't get resolved, there are disturbing themes of violence and sexual repression and other goodies just like it. If Hidden couldn't break him out of the arthouse ghetto then I doubt this will.


A man riding his horse gets tripped by a hidden wire in the opening scene of The White Ribbon, and so starts the series of mysterious events that plague the villagers in this pre-WWI German town. And while they prove quite fascinating Haneke seems to lose interest, as I was certain he would, and instead decides to focus more on the lives of these townsfolk. There's a religious teacher, the adulterous Baroness, the nosy school children, the mean-spirited doctor. It could almost count as a soap opera if it weren't for all the displays of pretension and worshipping of arthouse deities. The mysteries are always there, mostly kept to the background, but he has other things on his mind. What they are I can't quite say.

That may come off as negative, but I actually quite liked The White Ribbon in a general sort of way. I battled sinking eyelids throughout early parts of the film, but once I got over my enjoyment went up. Perhaps "enjoyment" isn't the right word, actually, since there's not much here to enjoy if the typical sense, but the world that Haneke makes here is a great study and one that is filled with tension, danger and even, at times, delightful frivolity.


However, and there tends to always be a however when it comes to Haneke and I, I can't help but feel that The White Ribbon is yet another case of a director putting too much onto the audience when there, perhaps, might not be enough there to warrant it. I am sure Haneke has all sorts of ideas inserted into this movie, which he also wrote, but yet again a director has gone down the path of ambiguity to disguise it and, judging from the people sitting around me at the MIFF screening, I'm not alone in thinking that it's not there on the screen. It's all well and good for a film to be a metaphor or an allegory or whatever Haneke intentended this film to be, but if he expects the audience to pick up all of the slack then I don't know if he has done his job.

There are moments here that with just minor tweaking could have really changed the entire film. Whether that be making it more sinister or having less of a wondering eye in regards to certain plot points. He also provides narration, but that barely helps since it usually acts as nothing more than a literal narration of what is on screen. By now fans of Haneke can probably see anything they want to see in one of his movies, but I'm not entirely positive that with this film it actually is there. No amount of stunning - and I do mean stunning - cinematography (by Christian Berger) or solid acting (my personal favourite being who I believe is Leonie Benesch, but character names are all a blur here so I can't be entirely positive unfortunately) can hide that. For me The White Ribbon falls squarely alongside Code Unknown. Respectable and well-intentioned, but flawed by a director who is too busy being mysterious instead of actually just telling a story. B-

MIFF 2009 Review: Antichrist

Antichrist
Dir. Lars Von Trier
Year: 2009
Aus Rating: R18+
Running Time: 109mins

I actually think seeing Lars Von Trier's latest film deep in the midst of a film festival is the best possible thing. Casually going to the cinema and seeing it could very easily give the impression that Antichrist is a pretentious horror wank. It's easy to dismiss it as pretentious what with it's obsessions with things like "gynocide" and clitoral mutilation, however, having sat through many other films over the two weeks of the Melbourne International Film Festival I can most certainly assure you that Antichrist is not pretentious. You want pretentious? How about Treeless Mountain, a movie so minimalist that even the long passages of silence think they're better than you. Or what about The White Ribbon (a film I more or less liked), which doesn't even have an ending! Now that is pretentious.

Antichrist is a relentlessly unsettling movie and acts as a sort of cleanser for Von Trier who had waffled aimlessly around since the masterpiece of Dogville. Trite like Manderlay and the unnecessary, but slightly entertaining, The Boss of it All. I am quite certain that Von Trier believes his own statements that he is the greatest filmmaker of all time, and while I can't quite agree with him (yet), I do think he is one of the most important and he continues to be one of the only directors brave enough to make a movie as completely and utterly insane and deranged like Antichrist.


Divided into four "chapters" plus a prologue and an epilogue, the movie opens with the - if you can call it such - elegantly filmed death of a baby that belongs to a mid-tryst Charlotte Gainsbourg and Willem Dafoe. It is then decided that a trip to the couple's holiday house in the woods is in order for Gainsbourg's "Her" to reconcile herself with the feelings of hopelessness. It is here that the film descends into the infamous shenanigans that have given the film a reputation as one of the most controversial of all time. Of course, people will go on about the film's depiction of violence - it's far from the goriest film you'll ever see - and Von Trier will be labelled a misogynist, but what I saw was such impressive craft.

What actually struck me quite early on, in the hospital scenes precisely, was the writing. Such cutting and icy dialogue spewing forth out of Dafoe and Gainsbourg and delivered so sharply. Gainsbourg is very impressive here and probably deserved her Cannes award for Best Actress, but I can't express enough how much Dafoe matches her scene for scene. He really impressed me here. Visually the film is a stunner, too, with cinematography by recently Oscar-minted Anthony Dod Mantle. Equally impressive is the sound design, which could almost crush bones it is that intense. It shamelessly steals music cues from The Blair Witch Project, but the sense of ever-increasing doom that it creates is quite palpable.


I'm not sure what Von Trier could have done with this movie to avoid calls of misogyny. He got labelled as one when he attached a large wheel to Nicole Kidman in Dogville and he's still being called on when he does the same to Willem Dafoe. In this case the woman is the villain and not the victim and yet he's still sexist. Colour me confused, okay! Maybe if he wrote a scene in which Gainsbourg hilarious wore vibrating underwear?! Lars Von Trier is one of the only directors continuously making truly career-defining roles for women that I find it hard to consider him sexist. Bjork, Emily Watson, Nicole Kidman and now Charlotte Gainsbourg. What a wonderful list!

The movie's end credits are nothing more than the film's title crudely written in red text over an ugly green background, illustrated by Per Kirkeby, and yet at film's end a large number of crowd members remained. And at 1am too! Lars Von Trier is a master of manipulating his audience. There's something deliciously wicked about naming one of the chapters "PAIN: Chaos Reigns" in order to elicit a collective audience wince. I obviously can't say whether the audience liked it or not, but of all the films I saw at MIFF it was this that seemed to spark the most discussion. People wanted to turn to the person next to them afterward and ask "what was that?" I have to admire any film that can do that. That I think the film is quite good as well is a powerful statement and one that won't soon be leaving my mind. B+

MIFF 2009 Review: Fish Tank

Fish Tank
Dir. Andrea Arnold
Year: 2009
Aus Rating: N/A
Running Time: 130mins

With just two feature films, British filmmaker Andrea Arnold has already solidified herself as one of cinemas most vital and enthralling directors. Having already been incredibly impressed by her debut feature, the urban horror film Red Road, and now even more so by her followup, Fish Tank, Arnold is a rare case of being able to see a director become a great right in front of our very eyes.

Fish Tank stars newcomer Katie Jarvis - who truly is every bit as good as you have probably heard - as Mia, a 15-year-old who has flunked out of school and spends her days abusing the other girls who live near her community housing block, as well as hip-hop dancing in a vacant flat and roaming the neighbourhood looking for ways to waste time. She lives with her mother (Kierston Wareing) and her younger sister who is going down the exact same path. Into their lives comes mum's new boyfriend played by Michael Fassbender, a man that allows Mia to experience something other than a mother who doesn't appear to want her and a world that has already proved indifferent towards her.


Arnold's ability to portray urban decay is not that impressive in itself, but it's more what she does with it that has made me sit up and take notice. It would be easy for Arnold to have merely indulged in lower class miserabilism by inflicting pain on these unfortunate human beings, but instead she strives to find hope for Mia. Scenes showing the young girl dancing may initially feel like a cheap way on endearing her to viewers - "Look at that girl dance! Maybe she's lovely after all." - but it ends up providing but a window into her world, a world where hip-hop music is the language of the day and dancing does everything from cleansing the soul to expressing one's desire to be with a boy.

Fish Tank is filled with moments that provide the viewer with a strong image of the world that these characters fill. I thought it was quite humourous seeing Mia and her sister watch TV while drinking and smoking in a room painted pink and with horsey stickers on the banister. As Mia, Jarvis is truly exceptional. Given Jarvis' back story - she was seen by a casting director at a train station having a row with her boyfriend - it may not sound all that hard to act out scenes in which she exchanges insults with her sister like "cuntface" and "fuckface", but the longer the film goes, the easier it becomes to see the sadness lurking beneath and the desperation and power that Jarvis has enforced on her character.


Andrea Arnold makes movies about British lower class woe that are actually worth telling. They are unlike any other and for this I am grateful. So many clearly talented directors have become misguided and think they must use their talent to tell harsh and ugly tales. Another director may have wanted Mia to become depressed and a strung out drunk like her mother, but I don't think Arnold does. She could have easily made Mia miserable and made her life, and our viewing experience, a big joke, but she doesn't. The final scenes, I think, are testament to this. When Arnold could have easily gone for one last humiliation - something a lesser director would have done under the guise of "telling it like it is!" - she pulls Mia out of it and instead gives her reason to go down another path.

Fish Tank is an incredibly important film and one that has continued to stir through my mind in the days since. It may be filmed in the traditional 4:3 ratio of television, but it is truly cinematic and it is a brilliant, wonderful movie. A-, threatening to grow to an A

MIFF 2009 Review: Prodigal Sons

Prodigal Sons
Dir. Kimberly Reed
Year: 2009
Aus Rating: N/A
Running Time: 86mins

The first thing one will surely notice about Kimberly Reed's debut film, a documentary about the return to her hometown in Montana, USA - is what a great person she is. She has inserted herself at the front of her film, for obvious reasons, and thankfully she is charming, funny and the sort of person I actually want to spend 90 minutes with. That Reed used to be the co-captain of the football team and a blond-haired idol son before undergoing sexual re-assignment surgery almost ends up besides the point considering the film's focus squares in closely on that of her elder adopted brother, Marc.

The term "only in America" springs to mind when talking about Prodigal Sons since there are so many twists, turns, stories and unimaginable sidetracks. That Orson Wells actually proves to be a life-changing figure in this very real documentary goes but a mere small distance in describing how truly wild the story of Reed's hometown return becomes. While audiences, and Reed herself, may expect nothing more than a firsthand account of the troubles associated with the integration of a transgendered person into life in Small Town, USA, it quickly becomes much more. A study into mental illness, an insane family tree, a haunting and horrific family tale and a empowering tale of strength and courage amongst them.


Early passages of Prodigal Sons follow the more traditional aspects of Kimberly Reed's tale. Her return to the Montana town she grew up in and her attendance to the high school reunion that has plagued her thoughts for weeks. She has returned along with her girlfriend, which makes it a twofer of possible problems for the girl who, in her prior life, was the boy all the mothers wanted their daughters to bring home (and the boy all the daughters wanted to be with in behind the bleachers). These scenes actually prove quite touching as the attendees of the reunion end up being an enlightened lot for the most part, which is comforting.

It is, however, after these scenes that the true story of Prodigal Sons begins to reveal itself and her brother Marc is at the forefront, right there with Rita Hayworth and Orson Welles. I wouldn't have believed any of it if I wasn't keenly aware that this was indeed a documentary and not a mockumentary and one big "gotcha" punk. I won't dare spoil the twists and turns of the lives of Reed and her family, but they are big and it's fortuitous and they happened when the cameras were rolling. One gets the sense that there may have been a ounce of time manipulation on their behalf, but that's a minor fault.

What Prodigal Sons turns into in cannot be predicted anymore than the Hollywoodised developments with Welles and Hayworth. There is true heartache in this documentary and the films final act is so heavily drenched in sadness that the pain threatens to tear through the screen. Several scenes in particular, and you will know then when you see the film for yourself - and i hope that you do see it whenever you possibly can - are like real life horror movie scenes, tinged with violence and sadness.


However, the one idea that I got from the film and that it is that Kim's family has been able to overlook her controversial decisions because they can still see the soul they have known. Her family has realised that there are far worse things in this world than being gay, lesbian or transgendered. It's such a shame that everyone else can't realise that as well. There are people out there like Marc and I find it frightening the number of parents who would openly admit to preferring a child like him than a child like Kim.

This film should be shown to every parent of a gay child. I am sure that would quickly turn around and appreciate their child for all that they are worth when they realise the plethora of other far more life-threatening issues that their child could deal with. This is a documentary in it's most classical sense and it's one that truly deserves to be told. A-

MIFF 2009 Review: Outrage

Outrage
Dir. Kirby Dick
Year: 2009
Aus Rating: N/A
Running Time: 90mins

I imagine that one's enjoyment of and reaction to Kirby Dick's latest exposé documentary Outrage will depend almost in relation to one's beliefs about the issues it raises. The issues in this case are the outing of American politicians who have emphatically voted against gay rights issues, equality measures, AIDS funding and those who have actively tried to hide their sexuality in the closet as a means of furthering their career.

Understandably, there are many who disagree with Outrage on a moral level. They can be gay or straight, Republican or Democrat, male or female, because it is a very prickly issue, but one that I, personally, felt should be exposed. Many of the stories held within Kirby Dick's film are from a time when the Internet allowed many of these men to hide their sexualities and their exploits. One such case involves Terry Dolan, a prominent figure in the ushering in of the conservative era thanks to his role in the National Conservative Political Action Committee and how he was known amongst the gay community as a frequenter of the Flamingo gay club in New York City. At the time they would have gone undisclosed in a heavily conservative news and political system and for it amazed this viewer that stories such as these stretch back a long way.


Figures such as Dolan, since deceased from AIDS-related illness, are perhaps easy targets and it is there that Outrage will leave a bad taste in some audience members' mouths. I, however, thought it apt and definitely an important topic in regards to the hypocrisy of these people. The case that opens the film, and the case that has the best chance of being of knowledge to viewers, is that of Larry Craig is a thrilling tale and one that was still under-reported by those whose investment in gay rights issues is nil.

Dick's film isn't the stiff and severe movie you might be thinking it is. There is some wicked humour within, frequently thrown in due to the intelligent and witty talking heads such as Rodger McFarlane, and the sly nods to bad Freudian slips from the outed politicians. "Thanks for coming out today" says Larry Craig at a news conference. If only, right? And then just moments later it is tugging at the heartstrings as the cases of hate crimes are raised including Lawrence King, the 15-year-old who was shot dead by a classmate, and even moments of sadness such as the case of Dina McGreevey, the wife of a gay politician who came out after years of marriage. Kirby Dick manages to balance these out nicely and by films end I could have kept watching for another hour.


As someone who thinks the issues at hand are worth putting out in the open I appreciated the film. As a gay man whose rights are continuously thrown aside and ignored I found no real problem in outing the same people who made it their mission to stifle my rights. The film stresses that it is not interested in "outing" closeted gay politicians who have not gone out of their way to destroy the rights of other gay people. In that it exposes hypocrisy that we all know is there, but that others don't want to admit exists. If they did that it would mean there are actual gay people with prominent power and that they couldn't pretend homosexuals only exist on the fringes. And, for that, I think the film should have been been and should be seen. B+