Don't Worry Darling

Here's a film that's had more said about the bullshit around it than the film itself. Therefore, I'll try to keep it relevant. This is Olivia Wilde's second feature and she's a bit of a dab hand at this directing lark. I haven't seen her debut, Booksmart, but have heard good things. In a nutshell, Don't Worry Darling (errant comma notwithstanding) is a stylish, speculative drama, with a patina of utopia-cum-dystopia that masks something far more commonplace and unsettling. Florence Pugh is the dutiful 1950s hausfrau of Harry Styles, who live in a postcard perfect sunny, desert community, presumably near the West coast of the US. Styles' Jack works for Chris Pine's pseudo-cult leader, Frank, in a mysterious compound just out of the town of Victory. Pugh's Alice spends her days with other wives, shopping, practicing ballet or getting pissed up. All's going swimmingly until one of Alice's friends, Margaret (Kiki Layne), begins to ask questions and is summarily silenced. 

The film starts out as a 1950s all-American dream but aside from the terror of this particular scenario in general (that 50s bright and cheery Americana cheese gives me the absolute shites), things are clearly askew. Alice breaks eggs that have nothing inside, she cleans a window wall that slowly begins to squeeze her like a sandwich press, there are mirror reflection errors like in those 'find the differences' pictures, and the plasticity of her friends has a whiff of the Stepford Wives. Frank's business involves 'modern materials' but there are hints of secret weapons manufacturing. It's a great premise and it mostly works, in large part thanks to Pugh's performance. She's got a very emotive face and she sells the paranoia really well. There's been a lot of grief for poor old Hazza but he's not terrible in this. The stuff about his accent is misguided - it's just a northern pom accent for the most part. Pine pulls some solid menace, he's well cast, and Wilde's Bunny has some of the best lines.

On balance, this is a watchable slice of psychosis-cinema, with good performances. It's not perfect - there's a slight unevenness in the plotting (I felt it could have done with more of the 'other' side and Pine needed a bit more fleshing out, as did the underused Gemma Chan as his wife), and the ending was a bit too ambiguous. But the realisation of the What in WTF!? is satisfying, and the theme of female disempowerment is important and timely. Avoid the circus around this and I reckon you'll get something out of it.

Don't Worry Darling opens October 6th.

See also:

The Black Mirror episode, San Junipero, written by Charlie Brooker and directed by Owen Harris (2016), WandaVision, directed by Matt Shakman (2021) and Michel Gondry's Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) all share some DNA with the above.

(Film stills and trailer ©Warner Brothers, 2022)

You Won't Be Alone

Can an idea be killed? Can you erase or transform folkloric mythology? Star Wars and organised religion would hope not but it seems Goran Stolevski might think otherwise. You Won't Be Alone is the debut feature of this Macedonian/Aussie filmmaker (he's also got Of an Age doing the festival circuits at the moment - it took out the top prize at WA's own Cinefest Oz recently). The film is set in Macedonia in the 19th century and, as you might expect, it's pretty bleak, especially for women. It starts with a mother and baby getting an unexpected visit from Old Maid Maria, a scarred witch who is after blood. The mother cuts a deal which gives the child 16 years grace before she is to be taken so, in the words of the mother, "you won't be alone." In an attempt to trick the witch, the child is hidden in a cave until the inevitable day when she is claimed. Henceforth, the child grown, Nevena (Sara Klimoska) becomes a kind of trainee witch to Maria (Anamaria Marinca).

This is a dense, slow-moving tale that's only made more mysterious by the much appreciated lack of exposition. The dialogue is Macedonian and the story was pulled together by Stolevski as an amalgam of various tales in the folklore of the area, coupled with his own embellishments. Fatalism has its place but also there's some satisfaction to be had from drawing a line under the prevailing superstition (if you read it that way). Maria's plaintive protestation that, "It was all so easy for you", feels like an ushering in of the new and a pretty unsympathetic dispensing of the past. Fair dues, I suppose, as Old Maid Maria was probably due some form of comeuppance, murderous witch that she is. In fact, her backstory is told later on in the film, and in line with the general shithouse treatment of women, it's hard not to feel some measure of pity for her.

Klimoska is excellent as the mute 'me-witch', and the actors she transforms into - Noomi Rapace, Carloto Cotta and Alice Englert - mimic her odd mannerisms perfectly. Marinca is horrific, but calm and almost dignified, and the landscape is golden and warm, belying the grotesqueries performed within it. And here is where the preview screening I was in lost a few of the punters - there's some fairly icky stiff going on with innards and gizzards and I can understand if that's not your jam (mmm, gizzard jam...). All in a good cause, mind, nothing really gratuitous, though the walkers may have a different opinion.

You Won't Be Alone is a very assured directorial debut - steady, confident, with a seemingly singular vision. It's likely not for everyone and it drifted slightly at times, but the ambiguity, the lyricism of Nevena's urge for love and acceptance in society, the strong female characters and the exploration of creepy myth and legend make this a quality piece of work.

You Won't Be Alone opens at the Luna on Sep 22nd

See also:

Rapace stars in Valdimar Jóhannsson's Lamb (2021), which shares the same levels of creep, and you could do worse than check out John Carpenter's The Thing (1982) for more shape-shifting giggles. 

Moonage Daydream

This loyal coverage of the Bowie legend begins with the voice of the man himself over a whack of white text on black, musing on the apparent 'death of God'. It's a fairly ambitious way to kick off but director Brett Morgen isn't have a bob each way here. It must have been a thankless task deciding on the format and style for this doco (ok, maybe not style, as that kind of speaks for itself with Bowie). There are amazing concert snatches peppered through the film and the opening number - All the Young Dudes - from an early gig is stupendous. Sound and Vision, from his Berlin sojourn, was brilliantly cut to painterly dobs, like a Kandinsky composition, and Heroes was spine tinglingly fine.

But...returning to the format, I think this is where it dips out. The film is a long 2 and a quarter hours, by long, I mean it felt like a lot longer. Morgen attempts to use as much Bowie narration and gig footage as possible and neglects any other viewpoint or angle that may have opened the film up a bit - for example, there's no mention of his first wife or children, and nothing about his work with other artists (Queen, Jagger, Iggy Pop, etc). Sure, this film isn't meant to do anything else than show us the master showman in all his glory, and there's no disputing that it does that in spades. There are also a smattering of shots of Bowie on the wander and a couple of interviews but the segments are telegraphed and I found myself willing each one to be the last. THIS SHOULDN'T BE THE CASE WITH DAVID BOWIE. 

Now, I'd say I'm probably a mid-level fan, I like most of what he's done (and some of his stuff is excellent), but I wouldn't say I'm a completist or anything. So how does this film sit with the hardcore fans, I wonder? The filmmakers had permission from Bowie's estate and so clearly wanted Moonage Daydream to be his visual legacy. Job done on that front, it just doesn't quite work as an engaging biopic of a legendary musician. There must have been hundreds of hours of footage to choose from and so some obviously tough decisions on what to leave out. Another issue is the editing. This come across as an editor's 'death by a million cuts' - it's sliced to fucking distraction. As a counterpoint, another musical bio, Crock of Gold: A Few Rounds with Shane MacGowan, has a multitude of shots but this raises them by the power of Greyskull.

Perhaps it's the choice of director. Morgen has some experience with docos (he made the excellent The Kid Stays in the Picture) but I reckon someone like Asif Kapadia (Senna, Amy, Diego Maradona) or Julien Temple (the MacGowan doco, The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle) would have handled this with more zest -  a film, rather than a record of an important life. It's not a failure by any means, I just wish it gave Bowie the filmic send off he deserved.

Moonage Daydream opens in cinemas on Sep 15th.

See also:

A couple of top quality musician docos have played at Rev in recent years. Temple's Crock of Gold: A Few Rounds with Shane MacGowan (2020) and Michael Cumming's King Rocker (2020) are just two examples.

PROBABLY SPOILERS IN POD...

(Film stills and trailer ©Universal, 2022)

The Quiet Girl

This is a great film, especially in the way that it manages to create something interesting out of a reasonably mundane synopsis. A young girl is sent away to a relative's house for the summer where she is treated better than at home. Sounds like it could have a bit of Rohmer-style youthful awakenings? Or maybe some gritty Loach-ian societal comment? Even perhaps a revenge tinged 'fear the youth' theme? Well, it's none of the above, and more power to its style.

The Quiet Girl herself (Cáit) is a newcomer, Catherine Clinch, and she was apparently found via an Irish language school call out. She's incredible - meek, direct, no airs nor graces whatsoever, with a clear-eyed awkwardness. She's almost like a little female Bowie in The Quiet Girl Who Fell to Earth (no, not a film but I thought I'd italicise anyway). There are orbiting performances that complement her perfectly. Carrie Crowley and Andrew Bennet play Eibhlín and Seán Cinnsealach, the couple who take Cáit for the summer. Eibhlín is the cousin of Cáit's mother, Matháir (Kate Nic Chonaonaigh) and they're happy to have a child in the house, for reasons that become apparent during the film. Michael Patric plays the father, Athair, and he's the closest thing in the film to a villain - he's a terrible dad, and it's quite informative that he's one of the only characters that speaks English most of the time. Incidentally, his accent was so tricky to get an ear around that I thought those responsible had forgotten to subtitle his dialogue.

This is mature, humane filmmaking, a world away from most multiplex fare and it has almost everything to recommend it - music, cinematography, pacing, direction, acting, script, themes (loss and grief, neglect, child-raising, kindness and its opposite). It's full of fantastically executed scenes, crackling with tension and emotion. Seán has trouble initially warming to the young girl in the house and bawls her out on one occasion, only to apologise later by subtly placing a cream biscuit on the table next to her. No dialogue, one locked off shot followed by a close-up of the bikkie, back to Cáit noticing it. Perfect example of 'show, don't tell' character development. It's no coincidence that Seán says later in the film,

"You don't have to say anything. Always remember that. Many's the person missed the opportunity to say nothing, and lost much because of it."

On a beach near the house, Seán tells Cáit about a horse that was led in from the surf one night and the story is thick with significance, as is the fact that Cáit notices three lights on the horizon as they're leaving, where earlier there were just two. The 80s setting is bleak and kitschy, all crappy decor and cheesy Irish TV snippets, and this gives the film another way of showing the mundanity of life for the characters. There's a quiet power suffusing throughout and the final scene is an intense, almost cathartic release. This appears to be the first narrative feature from writer/director Colm Bairéad, let's hope he makes many more. 

The Quiet Girl open at the Luna and Palace on Sep 8th.

See also:

Another neglected kid is the focus of Francois Truffaut's, The 400 Blows (1959), and there are some similarities to Lynne Ramsay's Ratcatcher (1999).