Category Archives: Uncategorized

The Drover’s Wife, Leah Purcell’s debut narrative film as director (and writer), is an instant Australian classic. Using established tropes of the Western genre, but never depending on them, the story is an epic depiction of colonial life in 1890’s small town Australia. With elements that cover the divide between white and black society, domestic violence and notions of independence and respect for women, Purcell has achieved something in this film which will stand the test of time and please audiences for years to come.

The narrative focuses predominantly on the titular Molly, living outside of the developing town of Everton in the area of the Snowy Mountains. Raising her children in a time when survival often depends on her wits, as well as fatalistic circumstances outside of her control, Molly runs the household while her husband is away droving stock. An encounter with an escaped convict and the details of her past bring to the audience a story that engages with issues that are still current today, wherein the character is tested throughout in order simply to live the life she desires for herself and her family.

Purcell and her fellow cast all shine in roles that feel three dimensional and carry the story forward. The leads are each given enough to chew on so that we grow to understand their motivations and anxieties, and the supporting ensemble create a firm and realistic sense of the community that makes up the town. Special mention must go to Rob Collins as Yadaka and Malachi Dower-Roberts as Danny, with Purcell herself also delivering an incredible performance in the lead. Time lapse photography and beautifully framed wide shots of the bush and open planes mark the cinematography as a highlight. Between this and the anachronistic score, recorded live, the film has a warmth and immediacy to it which feels wholly original and vibrant.

Clocking in at just under two hours, The Drover’s Wife serves the audience with an immaculate and extensive story that will be worth revisiting again and again. Purcell, for whom the work has been a passion project across the years (not to mention in her career as a stage actor and playwright) demonstrates her command behind the lens and before it. By the end, the trials and strength of Molly Johnson have become the stuff of Australian cinematic legend.

5/5

Gaia is a South African genre film in the mode of ecological horror. Heavy on political and social commentary on the subject of environmental conservation, as well as social normality and responsibility in that context, the film veers from one idea and visual set piece to the next. Lengthy and somewhat overdone, it feels too ambitious throughout, like the writer and director have both thrown things at the wall, only to fail in stripping it down to the elements that really work.

Set in a huge national park known for mysterious disappearances, the story revolves around a ranger who is injured and then saved by father and son survivalists. As she is nursed back to health, Gabi begins to realise that her hosts, Barend and Stefan, have strange ideas about the state of the world around them and have retreated into rugged solitude in the forest. What at first seems like a choice to avoid the outside world soon descends into the understanding that Barend and his son know something of a life-force that exists in the forest to which they are both devoted and live in fear of.

With some interesting visual sequences and design elements, Jaco Bouwer’s film isn’t totally without merit, though it drags on longer than it needs to and can often feel stretched in making it’s point. The editing and depiction of the horror elements sometimes feel derivative of other films in the genre, executed in a way that at times frustrates the audience’s understanding and interpretation. Essentially, it feels like we’re being pulled in too many directions without creating a cohesive atmosphere. This is a shame because there are some interesting ideas and moments in the film, though without the time to breathe they are fleeting and few enough.

Sure to please fans of horror up to a point, Gaia seems more like a failed experiment in genre filmmaking than a triumph. The ambition at the heart of the story and it’s execution is to be admired, but doesn’t serve to produce a consistent whole that can be appreciated as more than the sum of it’s parts.

2.5/5

A film that is confident enough in it’s weirdness that it chooses not to weary us with unnecessary exposition, Titane is a demented work of body horror that will be hard for audiences to forget. Julia Ducournau’s second feature begins in a relatively quiet fashion, but doesn’t take long to propel itself forward in ways that defy explanation and even, in some moments, understanding.

The film revolves around Alexia, a young woman with a metal plate in her head and a penchant for murder. This premise only makes up a short section of the film, which then goes on to explore the relationship between a grieving father and the protagonist, who positions herself in order to take advantage of the man’s vulnerability. Between this and Alexia’s seeming sexual attraction to motor vehicles, Titane sets the viewer on a journey which is anything but conventional.

Each of the leads perform exceptionally well and craft a relationship between them which is both touching and unsettling. Newcomer Agathe Rousselle (in a stunning feature debut) is transcendent as the violent and erotic Alexia. She gives the character enough depth in her facial expression rather than her fairly sparse dialogue, which only serves to make her harder to pin down throughout the film. Vincent Lindon creates a realistic portrait of a man so detached from reality that really no action or line from him manages to shock, making his character one that the audience can empathise with assuredly.

With beautifully crafted score and cinematography, Ducournau’s Titane is a feast for fans of filmmakers like David Cronenberg and Nicolas Winding Refn. What’s more impressive is that it manages to be totally it’s own original cinematic treat, relying partly on narrative ellipsis to tell it’s story and to convey disquiet in a way that will surely resonate with fans of the body horror genre. Both challenging and rewarding, Titane takes no prisoners in it’s delivery of one of the most audacious and grimly funny scripts in recent memory.

4.5/5

Ridley Scott’s The Last Duel is an epic of court intrigue and feminist politics, depicted with gusto from the first moment until the last. Set in France in the late 14th century, the story is that of two friends who become rivals. The conflict stems from the woman who is married to one of the two and accuses the other of an opportunistic and brutal rape, whose pain and resolve becomes the focal point of this seething and culturally relevant film.

From a script written by Matt Damon and Ben Affleck (who appear in lead and supporting roles), as well as Nicole Holofcener, Scott is at the apex of his skill as a filmmaker. This film is more well rounded and balanced than much of his post-2000’s work. Without silly, somewhat counterproductive elements of science fiction and weighty religious commentary, the director is able to focus on the human drama and bureaucratic structure at the heart of the narrative. This allows Scott to craft something with perceptive insight and meaning; a film which offers both a realistic recreation of medieval politics and brutality, as well as speaking to the current reckoning of sexual assault and systemic corruption within every professional industry the world over.

The performances, for the most part, are all impeccable. Although Damon’s wooden star power lets the film down, the other leads and especially the ensemble cast deliver in ways that ensure audiences will leave The Last Duel with solid understandings of character and the weight of each within the story. Jodie Comer and Ben Affleck each standout and will undoubtedly be up for awards consideration. Harriet Walter, Marton Csokas and especially Adam Nagaitis all perform with brilliant intensity, though none of them manage to become caricatures at the edge of the narrative, as some have done in previous efforts from the director.

The greatest strength of the film is the three chapter structure in which the action plays out. Made up of Damon, Comer and Adam Driver’s perspectives, the whole thing feels like the audience is following the evidence in a court case, or the reporting thereof. This choice within the script suits the material down to the ground, though the time jumping at the beginning is briefly disorienting. Different versions of events reveal not only the plot, but also the bias and prejudices of each perspective and the likelihood of veracity from each. Comer towers over the film as a woman whose position in this time and place is obviously weaker than her male counterparts, only making the strength inherent to her characterisation more striking and impressive. Driver also does well in his role as what is essentially the antagonist, hot off his streak in the same role in the recent Star Wars films.

With enough battle gore and irony in some unintentionally comic moments, Ridley Scott’s latest is a feast for fans of action and drama alike. The Last Duel demonstrates the benefit of his over five decades behind the lens and will provoke controversy and serious discussion of issues inherent to the injustices of both medieval society and our own.

4/5

Never shy of pursuing difficult and controversial subjects, Nitram is Justin Kurzel’s chilling portrait of the man who committed the Port Arthur massacre in Tasmania in 1996. Surrounded by an important debate over whether the film should have been made at all, the director’s third collaboration with writer Shaun Grant is a well drawn and thought provoking piece. Telling the story of a murderer, it focuses primarily on the elements in society and the character’s psychological and intellectual makeup that led to the tragic outcome, rather than the act of violence itself.

Starring Caleb Landry Jones as the title character, whose real name isn’t heard once throughout the film, Nitram follows the everyday existence of a man who since childhood has seemingly been at odds with the world around him. While this performance can seem hollow at times, it moreso reinforces the disconnect between the film’s subject and the world he inhabits. Nitram presents (and confronts) the audience with this man’s perspective, crippled by an intellectual disability which leaves him isolated and resentful of almost everyone he encounters. The hand held cinematography and 1.55:1 aspect ratio creates a compounded sense of the character’s world; fragile and fluid, while also feeling boxed in. These choices, combined with high angles positioned in corners in certain interior scenes, mark the work of DoP Germain McMicking as one of the film’s strongest elements.

Landry Jones is supported by a stellar cast of heavyweight Australian talent. Anthony Lapaglia and Essie Davis are almost transformative in their roles as the gunman’s father and older female companion, respectively. Judy Davis is singularly brilliant as a mother conflicted by the understanding of her son’s complete lack of empathy and the love she cannot help but feel for him. Her perspective is really the only other one highlighted in the film aside from that of the lead character’s and, as a result, is the only person who might draw some empathy. The filmmakers have been excessively careful not to craft a tale of tragic lonerism for their representation of Bryant’s life or his actions. This seems like a move towards respecting the audience’s ability to discern for themselves an interpretation and judgement of a man who undoubtedly knows to some degree that actions do have consequences, even if it does appear that he is incapable of ascribing to them the same weight that greater society would do.

In the end, Kurzel’s film will divide and certainly challenge filmgoers in a way that well suits the choice of subject and the conception with which it is presented. Though it doesn’t cover every aspect of Bryant’s life as faithfully as straight reporting of the facts would do, one must be aware of the film as a work of art and interpretation which seeks to present just one possible understanding and account of a life that destroyed so many others. In that sense, Nitram is a compelling, however grim work of spectacle and, to some extent, speculation. The message it delivers on the subject not only of gun control, but more prominently on neglect and systemic failure in community and healthcare are reason enough to see and judge it by it’s own merits as a film, rather than dismissing it outright as a callous and unnecessary depiction of an event that still looms large in Australian and world history.

4.5/5

Is there a film that better understands the highs and lows of small town malaise and boredom in an intergenerational context than The Last Picture Show? Peter Bogdanovich’s classic 1971 adaptation of Larry McMurtry’s novel remains a triumphant dissection of American youth and what it can expect with age, set in a Texas wasteland where oil, football and sex are about the only things worth getting out of bed for; along with Sam the Lion’s picture show.

Written by Bogdanovich and McMurtry himself, the story takes place in Anarene, 1951; a time and place that seethes with stalled momentum after WWII. Sonny and Duane are best friends and high school seniors, both of whom have essentially been taken in by various locals as surrogate children due to the failings of their own parents. They each pursue sex and amusement in life as best they can, confronting and sometimes denying the realities of their impending maturity. There’s also Jacy, love interest to both Sonny and Duane, caught up and out herself in the quintessential experiences associated with coming of age in a Texas oil town in the early 50’s, barely conscious of her own motives and relations amongst boys and men alike. Between these three (Timothy Bottoms, Jeff Bridges and Cybill Shepherd all in career making performances) and the rest of the town’s cast of locals twisting in the wind (or hanging on to what they have), the film creates a vivid and real sense of life at a time when there’s much to be thankful for, even if the youth can hardly see it.

The ensemble cast shine through beautifullly in this film, as does Bogdanovich’s assured direction. The Last Picture Show tells it’s story through silence and looks passed between characters as much as it does the dialogue, which is complex without being overdone. Ben Johnson, Ellen Burstyn and Cloris Leachman all deliver as members of the town’s aging milieu, with Burstyn in particular creating a feeling of both dour weariness and unbridled joy as Jacy’s mother. Bogdanovich demonstrates not only his understanding of classic film history (owing, no doubt, to his prior career as a critic and being an avid fan of John Ford), but also brings something distinctively modern to the film. Being his first major success as a filmmaker, it’s not hard to understand why the film was lauded and awarded in it’s own time.

The Last Picture Show never dips in it’s bravura depiction of Anarene’s comings and goings, though it does make time for stillness and grace in the wistful way the town is shot, complete with tumbleweeds blowing down the main street. It also seems like a film that has imprinted itself on the work of contemporary and future auteurs, like Jonathan Demme and Paul Thomas Anderson to name just two. Bristling with talent and warmth above and below the surface, it belongs at once to it’s own time and to generations to come; fitting perfectly the narrative and lessons it seeks to impart.

5/5

In an age of big budget, low commitment MCU powerhouse films, The Green Knight certainly makes sense, but unfortunately fails to deliver beyond the level of aesthetic dynamism and medieval fantasy cosplay. Starring Dev Patel as Gawain of the Arthurian legend, David Lowery’s ambitious interpretation of the story of The Christmas Game and the titular antagonist is a long (and long-winded) exploration of the things in life that depend on pride and ambition, as well as those that will always fall by the wayside in any quest where each of these qualities are given priority over that which is more important to the here and now of well being and consideration of others beyond the self.

The story revolves around the untested protagonist, Gawain, who accepts the challenge of the formidably Pagan Green Knight in the highly Christan court of King Arthur, portrayed here subtly and sparingly by Sean Harris. After besting the demented looking knight in a bout of combat (wherein his opponent simply lays down his arms and bears his neck), Gawain must afterwards set off on a quest to allow the creature satisfaction, propelling him along a multifaceted quest that will see him encounter various earthly and supernatural personalities, guiding him towards an understanding of what it means to be chivalrous and maintain his integrity in a world that presents temptation and comfort as an alternative to hardship and endurance.

While it is a challenging and visually engaging film, with a score that absolutely deserves awards consideration, the themes inherent to the narrative and Lowery’s didactic intention are often overwhelmed by a multitude of side quests and a sprawling sense that the final product could have been more focused in it’s execution. While all the cast turn in interesting and committed performances, especially Alicia Vikander and Joel Edgerton, they are either underutilised or dwarfed by the focus on Patel’s character, who comes across like a Marvel film age ne’er do well who will inevitably grow throughout the story into someone the audience can admire in what is a somewhat predictable and unfortunately conventional turn of cinematic events.

Though it doesn’t feel in the end like the film has done justice either to the narrative or to the grandiosity of it’s visual triumphs, there are things to like about The Green Knight. The score by Daniel Hart is impressive and evocative throughout, and Lowery’s prowess as writer, director, producer and even editor should not be discounted, although perhaps the film would have benefited from another watchful eye or two aside from it’s commanding auteur. Sure to please some and divide a great many, The Green Knight is a film that will be debated and watched for a long time to come.

2.5/5

Fate is inexorable, and so there finally exists a new entry in the world of The Sopranos; a prequel film, The Many Saints of Newark. Written by David Chase and Lawrence Konner (creator and longtime writer on the series, respectively) and directed by regular HBO helmer Alan Taylor, the film is at times full to bursting with characters and scenarios, some that the audience already know and others that come brand new, all of which contribute to an overall effect which is both satisfying and frustrating at the same time.

Focused mainly on the life of Dickie Moltisanti (the before now unseen father of Christopher from the series), the film depicts his exploits as a soldier in the Di Meo crime family between the late 1960’s and early 70’s,  including his relationship with both the adolescent and teenage Anthony Soprano. While this narrative element is milked for it’s proverbial worth, the film also revolves around Harold McBrayer (Leslie Odom Jr), an African-American small time criminal who decides to work towards his own advancement rather than Dickie’s following the 1967 Newark riots and his exposure to a rising sense of Black Power in the community. To say that Harold’s arc mirrors many generational themes first explored in the series and now the film is not quite enough; this character warrants a film all to himself, while both Dickie and Tony in Many Saints could do with further development and a longer running time.

Nestled somewhere between overdone fan service and the brilliant world building that fans of the series are used to, The Many Saints of Newark has elements that both delight and disappoint. Actors who play characters already glimpsed or firmly established in the show (Jon Bernthal, Vera Farmiga and Corey Stoll to name a few) have fun reimagining their roles, while also adding dimension and considered nuance to them. Some others do less well, like John Magaro’s Silvio, although these missteps don’t necessarily derail the film. For what it is, Chase’s return to his most beloved creation maintains the integrity and purpose of the original, while also failing at times to create something new and consistent that newcomers can appreciate as it’s own standalone work.

Overall, the film will manage to please fans of the series, but is also intriguing enough in it’s own right to allow a new audience to enjoy the ups and downs of the criminal enterprise intersecting with family life and obligations. Special mention goes to both Alessandro Nivola as Dickie and Michela De Rossi as Guiseppina, his Italian born mistress (or goomar). As the credits roll and a familiar musical accompaniment chimes in, The Many Saints of Newark is sure to induce a wide range of responses, all of them grounded in the complexity of the story and it’s execution. As both David Chase and Tony Soprano would certainly appreciate, you can’t always get what you want.

3/5

Saint Maud, the debut feature written and directed by Rose Glass, is a taut psychological horror film which explores the main character’s recent devotion to the Christian God and her unravelling mental state as she tends to the care of a terminal patient as a live-in nurse. Unburdened by lengthy and superfluous exposition, the clever and eery script is paired with a real visual flair in the telling of Maud’s dangerous slip into psychosis after leaving her job at a hospital following a traumatic experience.

Leaning heavily on the lead performance by Morfydd Clark, Saint Maud compels the audience to empathise with the character, as she misguidedly pins all her hope on a fairly one-sided relationship with God, with whom she believes she can converse and feel close by. The harrowing depiction of Maud’s faith is challenged by her cancer ridden charge, Amanda (Jennifer Ehle), who continues to drink, smoke and indulge her sexual appetites, all of which the young nurse finds disquieting and, in her own words, a “waste of time”. As tension mounts throughout the film, Maud eventually comes to see herself as a righteous angel, tasked with saving Amanda’s soul by God or, more likely, her own delusions.

The tight script does a lot of the work in exposing the audience to these unhealthy notions of salvation and Christian responsibility, as much of it is recounted by Maud in narration through the act of prayer. Subtle visual effects further develop our understanding of the character’s mental illness, used fleetingly throughout the film in order to signpost towards what is a devastating final act.

At just over 80 minutes, the filmmaker maintains impressive control over the narrative and marks herself as a talent to look out for in the future. By the end, Saint Maud has taken the audience on a journey which the protagonist hopes will end in a feeling of contented salvation, though unfortunately more resembles a descent into hell.

5/5

Daniel Craig’s second outing as 007 is a rollicking action flick, pitting Britain’s establishment agent provocateur against a smarmy industrialist in a tale of geopolitical intrigue and intelligence agencies outwitting each other to try and stay ahead of the curb in an uncertain and dangerous international web of deceit.

Marc Forster, directing his first action blockbuster, brings some emotional nuance to the material after his background in more traditionally melodramatic fare (Monsters Ball, Finding Neverland) and is quite obviously indebted to the Bourne films of Paul Greengrass in his execution of the action sequences, which are in abundance. The editing in particular is kinetic in these scenes, even somewhat experimental. This makes for a Bond film that you have to pay a bit more attention to and the effect is almost challenging, but in a way that perhaps suits an espionage action thriller quite well.

Serving as a direct sequel to Casino Royale (a first for the series), Quantum delivers on non-stop action, while also managing to be quite a different film within the franchise. The villain (Mathieu Amalric in an understated, but venomous performance) is essentially a morally bankrupt businessman, rather than an opposite number or a scheming megalomaniac with designs on world domination. In addition to this, there’s a refreshingly complex partnership between 007 and one of the Bond girls who, along with our hero, is out for revenge. In another first for the franchise, the two don’t sleep together at any point, which is certainly progress (though he does manage to bed a fellow MI-6 agent, so the convention is adhered to at some point).

Though the execution is not as self assured as it’s predecessor, Craig’s sophomore effort is distinctively Bond, but also breaks some new ground and does it well. Quantum of Solace is a satisfying entry in the series and leaves the audience wanting more from the relatively new blonde Bond.

4/5