The Boy and the Heron (Me) (Kids)

The Boy and the Heron is legendary animator/writer/director Hayao Miyazaki's twelfth feature, and amazingly, his first since 2013's The Wind Rises. This takes elements of many of his earlier work and tells the story of a young lad called Mihato (voiced by Soma Santoki) who moves away from Tokyo during the war after the death of his mother. His father, Shoichi (ex-SMAPper, Takuya Kimura), had wasted little time in starting a new family with Natsuko (Yoshino Kimura), the younger sister of Mahito's mum. The introduction to the new residence throws up some of the Miyazaki hallmarks - a lush rural setting, a weird encounter with nature (the heron of the title), oddly cute geriatrics, and gorgeously rendered architecture.

As soon as Mahito gets to this new abode, the grey heron starts pissing about with him - flying too close; peering in his window as he's napping; tap, tap, tapping at his chamber door (or roof, to be exact). The heron (Masaki Suda) tries to convince him (yeah, now he's speaking) to come to an eerie tower in the forest where his presumed dead mother will be waiting for him. Finally, Mahito plumps for confrontation but this only results in near suffocation by frog. So far, so bloody odd. Around this time, Natsuko also goes missing, likely in said tower, which was supposedly built by her great-uncle (Shohei Hino), who 'read too many books and went mad'. The first act (first half?) ends with Mahito and one of the old grannies, Kiriko (Kô Shibasaki) venturing into the heron's keep.

And from this point it gets even better. Miyazaki pulls out more of his magic tricks as Mahito, the heron and Kirkio get sucked through the floor into some kind of halfway world between the living and the dead. We see ghoulish oarsmen, homicidally hungry pelicans, tiny egg creatures called the Warawara, massive fish, a fire sorceress and militaristic parakeets. Yep, all correct. Great-uncle, the keeper of the tower, begins to exert more influence on the story - he needs a successor to take over the task of keeping time and space (or Ghibli itself?) balanced. No big deal, then. Apparently, the heron and great-uncle are based on fellow filmmakers, producer, Toshio Suzuki and director, Isao Takahata, respectively, though it seems the wise old geezer character pops up in many Miyazaki films, and I get the feeling it's a surrogate for the director himself.

This really is a greatest hits album, and if it is to be his last film, he's left us with a wonder. The things he does well are all here. Rain, mud, puddles, nobody animates water like this guy. The distinct way people run, the wind blowing through the grass, the stop-start, almost hesitant reactions from the characters, as well as minor moments of horror and grossness, they're all covered. 

Familiar themes are also evident - trauma related to the death of a loved one, children maturing, hope, grief, nature, adults not quite understanding kids, and birds, lots of birds. Oh, and Joe Hisaishi returns with his terrific music. A fantastic piece of work from the master, hopefully not his last.

The Boy and the Heron is showing at Luna and Palace cinemas in Perth, as well as many other screens around the country.

See also:

Miyazaki's masterpiece is still Spirited Away (2001) but this runs it close. Another great 'last' film from a maestro this year was Ken Loach's The Old Oak (2023).

Anatomy of a Fall

Justine Triet's Palme d'Or winning drama about the unravelling of a relationship is a coldly intriguing piece of work. The film starts at an Alpine cottage where Sandra (Sandra Hüller) is being interviewed about her writing. Her husband, Samuel (Samuel Maleski) is upstairs playing loud music, her son readying the dog for a walk in the snow. The music brings a premature end to the interview as the son, Daniel (Milo Machado Graner) heads out. On his return, his father lies dead at the front of the house. No spoilers here, this all happens in the first 10 minutes of the film.

The rest of the runtime picks apart the events leading up to the fall. But did he fall, did he jump or was he pushed? The intrigue doesn't play out like a detective story, where the fun lies in the minutiae of putting the 'how' together. Rather, it focusses on the 'why', or how things got to this point. Sandra enlists the help of an old lawyer friend, Vincent (Swann Arlaud) when it appears she'll be indicted on a murder charge, and here's where the bulk of the film occurs - in court. 

Hüller is frankly incredible in this role. She has a lot of work to do and her naturalism is astonishing, especially considering she's not acting in her native tongue (she's German but she uses English and French here). She runs through anger, sadness, stoicism, despair, regret and mild panic, and never seems like she's 'acting'. There's a central flashback scene with Samuel that crackles off the screen, which they'll probably show when she wins the Oscar (surely a strong chance?). Her performance in this is all the more surprising as the last film I saw her in was the underwhelming Sisi & I (she's also in the upcoming Perth Festival film The Zone of Interest).

Although Hüller will garner the lion's share of praise, the support is top notch. Arlaud, is tough but lovelorn; Jehnny Beth as Marge, a court appointed guardian for Daniel, does plenty of unshowy work; and Graner has to carry quite a hefty load, as the innocent child being slowly forced to mature during the case. 

As fine as this is, it's not without flaws. The main issues would be the pacing and general length of the film. Two and a half hours feels a touch long and there are moments where the film drags, mainly outside the court. I can think of one or two scenes with Hüller and Arlaud that seem superfluous. Leaving this aside, Triet gives us many points to ponder and this is a well developed, worthy awards film.

Anatomy of a Fall is screening at UWA Somerville from Jan 1 - 7 as part of the Perth Festival.

See also:

This is similar to Alice Diop's Saint Omer (2022) in its court case scenes, and Dominik Moll's The Night of the 12th (2022) is also set around Grenoble, in the French Alps.

Dream Scenario

Kristoffer Borgli's second English language feature is a high-key concept with low-key delivery. This is not to do it down, only to note that the film has a slightly muddy look, and an almost soporific feel to it. This is in contrast to its razor-sharp treatment of culture wars and the trauma industry in the US, crucially viewed through the eyes of a European outsider.

The ace up the sleeve is the star (and producer) Nicolas Cage. He's always been a clever performer but in the last few years, he's been getting grungier, more shop-worn, possibly even less self-conscious. This is reflected in his choice of roles but it's hard to distinguish between the chicken and the egg in this respect. As Paul Matthews, an evolutionary biology professor at Osler University in an indistinct area of North America, Cage gives off an air of mundanity that you can almost whiff.

The conceit of Dream Scenario is that people are having dreams, not about Paul, but with him in them, observing events. Even people that don't know him. This is an odd bit of metaphysical fun, unexplainable but interesting. Paul appears on TV, his students and daughters start to show an interest, even his sensible wife takes advantage of the situation at her work. And, as he's trying to get a book off the ground, Paul also seeks representation in the shape of 'Thoughts?', a teeth-clenchingly irritating agency run by Michael Cera's Trent.

But when Molly (Dylan Gelula), an assistant at the agency, explains that Paul is certainly no mere observer in her dream, a cascade effect begins. Other people's dreams turn into nightmares, all with Paul as a bland Freddy Krueger (actually name checked by one character). The full force of the negative viral spiral clicks into gear, albeit in some pretty funny scenes, similar to Borgli's Sick of Myself, where the laughs vie with discomfort a lot of the time.

There's a bit to digest here. The black comedy mirror on modern society is the main game, but there's a bit about familial relationships and the effects of external stimuli on them. There's also a healthy stream of absurdism running through the cancel culture canal (shades of Cock Piss Partridge, for anyone who might be across that touchstone). And in one particularly relevant scene, Molly awkwardly proves dreams don't translate to reality.

Dream Scenario is biting in its wit and on point in its social commentary, with a top drawer turn from Cage. Not the perfect film, but definitely one worth watching. It'll be fun to see what Borgli gets up to next.

Dream Scenario opens Jan 1st at Luna and Palace cinemas.

See/read also:

I highly recommend Jon Ronson's book So You've Been Publicly Shamed (2015) and sticking with the theme of 'cancel culture', Todd Field's Tar (2022) has a bit to say.

Migration (Me) (Kids)

A whole family trip to the cinema for this animated duck movie, written by Mike White (of The White Lotus fame) and directed and co-written by Benjamin Renner. It's a fairly simple storyline - mum and ducklings fancy a trip to Jamaica, risk-averse dad is reluctant. Of course, for the sake of the plot, dad comes around. The journey is physical as well as offering a chance to experience personal (duckal?) growth - the spirit of adventure is enhanced, and the kids, mainly the older lad, transition from childhood to adulthood.

There are numerous POV flying scenes - through clouds, between buildings in New York, in a nightmarish kitchen, down water slides, through a jungle - seriously, it's enough to make an adult dizzy. Admittedly though, it feels kind of reductive to even talk about all this as a grown up human. The colours, sounds, Looney Tunes style sight gags, are all mechanically tooled for little grommets to lap up, let's face it, this type of film isn't for the likes of me.

In saying that, I'll waffle a bit more. There's nothing too objectionable in the message, nothing too twee or cheesy in the method, but it certainly flirts with those possibilities. The voice cast is varied, some good (Danny DeVito as Uncle Dan), some miscast (Carol Kane is fine as Erin the heron, but the producers missed a trick not reuniting White with Jennifer Coolidge). And David Mitchell is wasted as GooGoo, a gormless cult leader duck. There's no sign of his stock in trade tone of outraged umbrage. Kumail Nanjiani as dad, Mack is comical enough and Elizabeth Banks as mum, Pam is just serviceable.

As noted, the wee humans will get a kick out of this but accompanying adults might need to bide their time until the next series of White's Lotus.

See also: 

Illumination, the animation studio responsible for Migration, did a little better with Garth Jennings's Sing (2016). Not ducks, but chickens also feel the need to get away in Peter Lord and Nick Park's Chicken Run (2000).

(Film stills and trailer ©Universal Studios and Illumination Entertainment, 2023)

May December

I had to look this up, but it seems that 'May December' refers to a relationship between a young person and a much older one. The couple in question are Joe (Charles Melton) and Gracie (Julianne Moore) and it's not so much the age gap that's the issue, more the fact that Joe was 13 when their 'affair' began. The wrinkle that this is all loosely based on real events adds a sense of car-crash voyeurism to proceedings.

As the film kicks off, it's been 20-odd years since the controversy and Elizabeth (Natalie Portman) is sent to shadow Gracie before playing her in a movie about the tabloid romance. This is a real actorly film, shot through the looking glass of melodrama. The layers are thick and peely - the tabloid news story, which was previously made into a TV movie, is now being 'researched' by Portman for a feature. Everything feels like a show until Joe berates Portman that it's NOT a story, it's his "fucking life".

Portman is superb and Moore is just as good, but in a slightly more thankless role. The tension between the subject and the mimicker is palpable - there are a few scenes with mirrors (in a dress shop, in the bathroom, etc.) where the two of them are subtly eyeing each other up and they're awkwardly electric. The writers Samy Burch and Alex Mechanik give director Todd Haynes plenty of gold to work with here. It reeks of symbolism, not just the mirrors, it's also no coincidence that Joe collects Monarch butterflies - but who is transforming into whom? Elizabeth even begins to affect a slight lisp, though I wasn't sure if Gracie developed this earlier in the film, maybe as a way of discombobulating Elizabeth. Certainly her line about insecure people at the end indicates that Gracie isn't the mug here.

Incidentally, May December has been nominated for Best Motion Picture - Musical or Comedy at the upcoming Golden Globes. Now, assuming it's not a musical (the score is by Marcelo Zarvos, lifting Michel Legrand's music from the great Joseph Losey film The Go-Between), then this is the driest 'comedy' - so dry it's virtually dehydrated. In fact, the times when that incongruously melodramatic music kicked in were when I realised Haynes was messing with his audience a touch. 

One particular highlight was a scene in the high school drama class where Elizabeth takes part in a Q&A with the students and manages to satisfy some and alienate others. It's a brave film in that it gives the viewer almost nobody to empathise with. Removing all character nuance, Gracie is a convicted paedophile, Elizabeth's a vain, selfish 'Hollywood' type and Joe's a boring, easily manipulated dolt. Of course, it's much less monochrome than all that but it's still hard to warm to any of them. Maybe that's the point.

May December is screening at UWA Somerville from Dec 26 - 31 as part of the Perth Festival.

See also:

This has been likened to Joseph L. Mankiewicz's excellent All About Eve (1950) and to get a feel of that music in its authentic context, have a look at Losey's The Go-Between (1971).

Napoleon

Ridley Scott's latest film, following the underrated The Last Duel and the rated House of Gucci, is a biography of Napoleon Bonaparte (probably no need for the surname). It traces his rise, post Madame Guillotine, through Robespierre's Reign of Terror, to his sweeping victories in battle and finally, to his exile.

All the while, his romance with Josephine (Vanessa Kirby) frames the narrative. It's basically a grand historical rom-com, if you find yourself as tickled by the ripe dialogue as I was. Joaquin Phoenix plays the general with his usual weird panache and his delivery of some of these crackers is top fun. He tells an English foreign minister, "You think you're so good just because you have boats!" And to Josephine he proclaims that, "Destiny has brought me to this lamb chop." 

Phoenix is on his regular top form but Kirby is brilliant as the enigmatic widow who allows herself to be wooed by the little guy. She puts her expressive eyes to good use in the role, especially when she finds herself marginalised for the benefit of the country. The rest of the cast are basically ballast to the leads, though Rupert Everett as Wellington slices the ham like his life depends on it.

Strangely, this is a low-key epic. For all the stylish action sequences (in particular, the icy Battle of Austerlitz is fantastic), this is a really localised film, focussing on the central relationship, with the political wranglings adding to the drama.

Napoleon isn't a dead cert Ridders classic but it's a great lark and the man knows how to direct a big film. Certainly worth a gander.

See also:

Also set in France, but a few hundred years before the Napoleonic era, Scott's The Last Duel (2021) is a fine film. Ian Holm (briefly) played Napoleon in Terry Gilliam's joyously odd Time Bandits (1981).

Wonka (Me) (Kid)

So, another origin story arrives on our screens. Considering the 1971 original Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory is one of the best children's films ever made, it might have been wise to steer well clear of this Roald Dahl IP. Luckily, in the hands of writer/director Paul King and co-writer Simon Farnaby, Wonka justifies it's existence. Just. 

Timothée Chalamet plays the young Wonka with a louche absurdism, channelling all the nuttiness of Gene Wilder but sadly, none of the edgy paedophobia. This scans in that it probably takes a long time to nurture that distaste for children that Wilder's Wonka displayed so winningly.

Story goes, Wonka arrives on a ship at one of those cities that often appeared in 1960s and 70s films (Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the original Wonka, even Mary Poppins) that represented American ideas of old Europe. Is it Germany? England? France? Austria? Call it Generic Europa and leave it at that. He is on a mission to sell his chocolatey wares and, in the process, live up to a promise to his departed mum (flashback Sally Hawkins). 

As you might guess, things don't go to plan and he ends up at the mercy of disreputable landlords, Mrs. Scrubbit (Olivia Colman) and Mr. Bleacher (Tom Davis). On top of this, the chocolate cartel of Slugworth, Prodnose and Fickelgruber want rid of him toot sweet, calling in the corrupt establishment forces of the constabulary and the church to help. The cartel are (over)played by Paterson Joseph, Matt Lucas and Matthew Baynton and the pantomime villain force is extremely strong with these three.

The 'greedy may beat the needy' but little Willy has some chums on his side in the shape of Noodle (Calah Lane), Abacus Crunch (Jim Carter), and various other inmates of Scrubbit's wash-house. While there's no sign of any Veruca Salts or Augustus Gloops, Noodle, with her selfless altruism, acts as a Charlie Bucket substitute. Standout cameos from Rowan Atkinson and, especially, Hugh Grant add value to the film. King and Farnaby pack the dialogue with clever chunks, especially in the song lyrics. The songs were written by Neil Hannon and they're a treat. He's the rakish nerd from The Divine Comedy and The Duckworth Lewis Method, who also wrote the themes for Father Ted and the IT Crowd. 

Now then, I saw Wonka with my nine-year-old lad and he loved every minute of it. For me though, this is a colourful delight, tempered by sentimentality. There's nothing necessarily inventive in the story but if you're willing to give yourself over to the sweets, the immediate sugar rush will leave a smile on your face. 

Wonka opens everywhere in Aus on Dec 14th.

See also:

The already mentioned Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (directed by Mel Stuart, 1971) is a must-see if you haven't yet. And it was a fun little trip picking all the alumni from Brit comedy (Peep Show, Horrible Histories, Yonderland, Snuff Box, etc) but Matthew Baynton is responsible for one of the funniest scenes I've ever seen in The Wrong Mans (directed by Jim Field Smith, 2013). I have it.

(Film stills and trailer ©Warner Brothers, 2023)

Eo

Eo is the latest film from legendary Polish director, Jerzy Skolimowski. It's also the name of the lead character, a donkey, and cripes, does this poor fecker go through some shit. He starts out as a circus donkey with a caring handler, Kasandra (Sandra Drzymalska), but is soon 'rescued' by animal liberationists and sent to some sort of equestrian complex. He's just as downtrodden here though, so he runs slightly amok, and is sent off to a donkey sanctuary in the hills. Things seem comfy here until Kasandra visits drunk one night and Eo decides (I guess) to chase her when she leaves. 

The film is an extended period in the life of this donkey and how its presence affects the people around it. There are several great overhead shots of the Polish and Italian landscapes and one drone sequence that made me feel slightly woozy (in a good way). The action follows the hapless Eo from situation to situation and shines a light on the varying levels of ugly humanity that he encounters - from football hooligans to shonky priests. But these rough moments are just about matched by the kindness of other humans - it's pretty much a rollercoaster ride for poor old Eo, though ultimately, it's clear that his wellbeing is not at the top of anyone's priority list. 

Isabelle Huppert appears as The Countess, and it's an almost intangible shock when we see her. I mean, this isn't a bad film but surely she must have owed Jerzy a favour. Like all the humans in the film, though, she isn't in it for too long. Eo is the throughline and the orbital occurrences seem like so much piffle to him. I reckon that's the rub of this film - we may think everything in our lives is so important but the incidental beast of burden (and virtually every other living thing in the world) rightly couldn't give a shit.

Eo is screening at UWA Somerville from Nov 27 - Dec 3 as part of the Perth Festival.

See also:

I suppose it would be poor form not to mention Robert Bresson's Au Hasard Balthazar (1966) but I haven't seen it, so can't recommend. I does seem to be a companion piece, though. I do heartily recommend Jérôme Boivin's Baxter (1989), a fantastic film seen through the eyes of a murderous bull terrier. 

Saltburn

Emerald Fennell's excoriating follow up to Promising Young Woman skewers class and privilege with louche insouciance. Barry Keoghan plays Oliver, a needy, slightly pathetic scholarship student and he's in stellar form. As a 'Johhny-no-mates' at Oxford University, an opportunity arises to ingratiate himself with the cool folks on campus, led by Felix (a surprisingly excellent Jacob Elordi).

The humour in this is just one of many drawcards. It's all played with a rigidly straight bat and there's an uneasy sting to it. The first inkling of this is a perfect outburst at a common room dinner - not so crucial in the wash up, but a great indicator of things to come.

Oliver's underprivileged family situation presses Felix to invite him home to his parents' estate for the summer, the evocatively named, Saltburn. Here is where things begin to ramp up. Aside from the folks, Sir James and Elspeth (played with pitch perfect timing by Richard E. Grant and Rosamund Pike), we also meet Felix's sister, Venetia (Alison Oliver) and are reintroduced to cousin Farleigh (Archie Madekwe), who is part of the Uni crowd. There's also creepy manservant, Duncan (Paul Rhys), who judges imperiously, and Poor Dear Pamela (Carey Mulligan), a possibly deluded 'friend' of the family. Nobody misses a beat, the casting is brilliant.

There have been a number of films of late critiquing the entitlement of the upper classes. The subversive distinction here is that we are led to feel a kind of sympathy for the entitled Catton family, sort of like how some people feel about the Windsors. But the message is almost a threat: "Just keep this shit up, richies, and you'll see what'll happen." Balancing audience sympathies is the gamble, and Fennell runs a fine line, but she pulls it off with aplomb, right down to the piss-take final musical flourish.

There are a couple of wince-inducing moments in Saltburn - some really discomfiting stuff. I won't go into detail here but there might be some recurring images of bath plugholes for a while. Mostly though, it's the dark humour that resonates. Some of the dialogue is sublime, whether it's Elspeth bragging about knowing the Britpop crew or Sir James delighting in wearing his suit of armour, there are some absolute pages of gold here. There is also a great analogy about a moth, fluttering at the window, attracted to the shiny things, trying to get in; as opposed to a spider, skulking about, weaving its web. 

Linus Sandgren (No Time to Die, Babylon, La La Land) deserves a heap of credit - his cinematography is stunning. There are plenty of languidly trippy visuals but there's one long shot of human silhouettes down a misty, tree-lined lane that is fucking stupendous. And the lunch table scene where Sir James has a raging rant about finishing the pie is shot through red with a grief and desperation that makes it the filmic peak of 2023 for me.

This won't necessarily be for everyone but I think it's a gem. Saltburn is in cinemas around the country now. 

See also:

I wonder if Fennell has seen Pier Paolo Pasolini's Theorem (1968). I haven't (so can't recommend) but she seems to have taken some cues from it. There's a touch of Anthony Minghella's The Talented Mr Ripley - and its predecessor, Rene Clement's Plein Soleil (1960), as well as Joe Wright's Atonement (2007), but the vibes are more like Park Chan-wook's Stoker (2013).

(Film stills and trailer ©Warner Bros, 2023)

Copa 71

This first film of the Perth Festival's Lotterywest screenings is a great doco about the Women's Football World Cup in 1971. After the 1970 Men's World Cup in Mexico some bright sparks realised that a similar tournament, using the same facilities and interest levels, but with women players, might turn a handy little profit. Six teams from Europe and the Americas were invited and the reception they received was amazing. As to be expected, the conservative dudes of FIFA tried many tricks to stymie the event, though a general stadium ban only forced the games into two of the largest grounds in Mexico - the Jalisco and the Azteca. Supreme own goal, dickheads.

Copa 71 uses a fairly traditional documentary format, blending archival footage with modern day interviews. It balances the sport sequences and the social justice elements really well - not a typical football doco and yet not a polemic as such. The directors have form in this field. It's Rachel Ramsay's first gig as director but she has plenty of producing credits, and James Erskine is all over the sports doco paddock. He directed the excellent One Night in Turin about England's failed 1990 World Cup, as well as films on cricket, tennis, rugby, cycling and.....jazz. Oh, and he has some drama in his catalogue too. Busy fella.

There are some fascinating moments throughout, from former US player, Brandi Chastain gobsmacked at the realisation that she wasn't part of the first Women's World Cup in 1991, to football historian supreme, David Goldblatt (of The Ball is Round fame) raining down some brickbats on the fusty gents of yore and their, admittedly successful, attempts to put a stop to the increasingly popular women's game. Post WWI and into the 1920s women's football seemed to be heading for a place in the general public consciousness, until the FAs around the world (run by men only, of course) banned clubs from having women's teams. The film shows the kick-back to this nonsense starting around the 1960s and culminating in the centre-piece of the film, the Mexican tournament. Empirical evidence shows that this was a false dawn, and that it's only in recent years that the women's game has begun to gain traction.

Oddly, there's no mention of the 1970 edition of the unofficial Women's World Cup (same sponsors Martini & Rossi) in Italy. I guess the filmmakers found the better story with this one but not to even have a word about it seemed remiss. There's a lovely slice of controversy when, in the Mexico vs Italy semi-final, the referee appears to be siding with the home team. This doesn't go down so well with the Italians, led by their feisty superstar, Elena Schiavo, who is a top draw proponent of 'shithousery'. The tension is cranked up through the preliminary rounds, and the carnival atmosphere accompanies the teams to the crowd of 110,000 waiting for them at the Azteca. The treatment of the athletes after this showpiece match is to the detriment of the relevant authorities, and Copa 71 serves as a hopeful refrain that this will be consigned to the past.

Copa 71 is screening at UWA Somerville from Nov 20 - 26 as part of the Perth Festival.

See also:

Erskine's One Night in Turin (2010) is more than a football doco too. And for a light take on women's football, have a look at Bill Forsyth's Gregory's Girl (1980). It's probably dated but it means well.

Foe

Who, or what, is the foe? If we assume Saoirse Ronan's wistful Hen is the focus of the film, then is it her husband Junior, played by Paul Mescal? Or maybe Aaron Pierre's shifty Terrance, an off-world development rep for a company called Outermore? Possibly the actual foe is humanity, especially those that fucked up the Earth enough to warrant living in space. There are quite a few runners and riders here for the titular prize, but this is in contrast with how many speaking parts fill the screen. Aside from Ronan, Mescal and Pierre, there are voices coming from the radio, as well as diegetic music vocals, and that's your lot, chum. 

Foe is as pared back as they come, almost theatrical in tone. There is a lot to unpack here - Artificial Intelligence, the ethics of cloning, relationship breakdown, global heating, gender equality, and probably something else I missed. Ambitious is putting it mildly. I'll describe in broad strokes - Hen and Junior live in a nigh-on uninhabitable dust bowl in the Midwest of the US. The aforementioned radio informs us of worldwide climate disasters and the visuals show this happening around the local area. Cue Terrance with an offer of temporary escape for Junior, to a space station orbiting Earth. 

Here's where I began to get Black Mirror vibes, specifically Beyond the Sea, the somewhat nasty episode 3 of the latest series. The central concept is more or less the same, involving a substitute for the absent husband, but where Black Mirror went for misanthropy, this film aims a lot higher, at love and fulfilment. Foe's Aussie director Garth Davis has a bit about him. He cut his teeth on TV shows like Love My Way and Top of the Lake, and has directed a couple of features, including Lion and Mary Magdalene. He has a steady hand on the tiller and it's clear he knows his craft. 

The atmosphere and performances are slightly heavy handed to begin with, until the realisation that this is all quite necessary hits near the end. It becomes obvious that something is on the cards, not so easy to pick what though, and I'm happy to say I had it completely wrong. Ronan and Mescal are typically great in what is basically a three-hander but I felt Pierre was a bit too mannered compared to the other leads (not his fault, I guess, coming up against those 27 percenters - the film-improving type, not the nutbags).

Not everyone's warm mug of dystopia but I was on board. There's enough going on here to find your way in, I reckon.

Foe opens Nov 2nd at Luna and Palace cinemas and elsewhere around the country.

See also:

There are echoes of the environmental damage that happens to the Earth in Christopher Nolan's Interstellar (2014) and Ronan broke onto the scene in Joe Wright's Atonement (2007).

SPOILERS IN POD!!

The Old Oak

What better film to watch on a 36 degree day than a slice of grim northern English realism from the master himself, Ken Loach. The Old Oak is reported to be Loach's final film and if so, he's left us with a rough little gem. A fading village in Durham sees the arrival of a busload of Syrian refugees, much to the disdain of several residents. It opens with one of these yobs in a NUFC shirt 'accidentally' smashing the camera of Yara, a young woman from the bus, played by Ebla Mari. Tommy Joe Ballantyne (Dave Turner) tries to calm things down and so begins an unlikely but sweet friendship.

This is real heart-on-sleeve filmmaking, personal but very affecting. The slightly amateurish performances underline the naturalism, the almost documentary feel of the film. The analogous plight of the ex-miners in the town and the refugees is not accidental and Loach (and his usual writer, Paul Laverty) imbue the film with barely contained proletariat anger. But as in many of the director's films, the people suffering the injustices can't locate their most worthy target - the system's architects and benefactors are far away - so all that's left to bear the brunt is those below. Dave says as much to an old mate who he rails against for this myopic viewpoint.

The Old Oak of the title is a decrepit pub, which serves as a metaphor for the village, the UK, maybe even the world in general, but also, on a micro level, Tommy Joe himself. TJ has lost people and is barely hanging on, with the help of a little mutt that 'found' him on a particularly rough day. One scene involving his dog is a tough watch, but underlines the bleakness of the situation.

Dave Turner has been in only three films; I, Daniel Blake, Sorry We Missed You and this one, all made by Loach. He's excellent at making you believe he's a normal bloke. He probably isn't even acting, per se, just reading the lines, but that's the point. Mari is also a relative newcomer, a theatre teacher from the Golan Heights (Syria but under Israeli occupation), and she doesn't really need to 'act' either, though she's clearly an ace.

The film harks back to Thatcher's reign of terror, and the similarities between the miners' strikes in the UK at that time and the Syrian refugees are stark - all up against it, all struggling - but the film's rallying cry is for accord, solidarity and acceptance. Not a bad wish. One of Yara's friends once told her that "hope is obscene" but Loach and Laverty do a fine job of countermanding that sentiment.

On a side note, I found it amusing that the Geordie characters were subtitled, as well as the Arabic for the Syrians. Why aye man!

The Old Oak is screening as part of the Cunard British Film Festival 2023 around the country from Nov 1st.

See also:

Can't go wrong with any of Loach's catalogue but a couple of great films that represent Newcastle and Durham are Mike Hodges's Get Carter (1971) and Stephen Daldry's Billy Elliot (2000).

The Crime is Mine

François Ozon is a curious director. His oeuvre is pretty disparate - the last three of his films I've seen were By the Grace of God, In the House and Potiche, each one quite different from the other. The Crime is Mine sees him in a light and breezy mood, as opposed to his more elliptical and moody side. It's a proper lark, this, too.

In 1935 Paris a young aspiring actress, Madeleine Verdier (played with winning brio by Nadia Tereszkiewicz) is accused of killing a Weinsteiny theatre producer. Her lawyer housemate, Pauline Mauléon (an equally excellent Rebecca Marder) convinces her to take the rap so she can defend her honour in court. The forthcoming legal success brings publicity, plus offers of theatre and film work. Things are looking rosy until the real killer, Odette Chaumette (Isabelle Huppert, having a great time) tries to muscle in on the action.

This is a female-centred screwball comedy, that brings to mind a different era. Katherine Hepburn, Rosalind Russell or Jean Harlow wouldn't have looked out of place in this, maybe even Monroe at a pinch. That said, it's very French and played with a knowing confidence by all concerned. Huppert is  virtually doing am-dram panto; Dany Boon as shifty ally, Palmarède is fantastic; while Fabrice Luchini, as judge/prosecutor Rabusset leaves it all out on the pitch. Special mention must go to André Dussollier, who has a brief role as Madeleine's potential father-in-law, Monsieur Bonnard. The set piece in his Italian Futurist-styled office is a highlight (see above).

In this type of film, getting the mix of ham and brie right can be very tricky but Ozon uses his manifold talents, and those of his cast, to make sure things don't get too pungent. It's also a treat on the eye and ear - the set and costume design is stagy but stylish, and there's a nicely jaunty score. And I might be wrong, but I thought I spotted the roof from Delicatessen as well.

The Crime is Mine opens Oct 12th at Luna and Palace cinemas in Perth, and other good cinemas around the country.

See also:

Ozon's Swimming Pool (2003) is a curiously gripping film and Huppert and Marder were both in Jean-Paul Salomé's The Godmother (aka Mother Weed) (2020).

Sick of Myself

Sick of Myself is a jet black Norwegian tragi-comedy from writer/director, Kristoffer Borgli. It starts in a posh restaurant where Signe (Kristine Kujath Thorp) is being treated to a birthday meal by her irritating boyfriend, Thomas (Eirik Sæther). He tells her to take a fake phone call outside, and is soon after seen legging it down the street with a two-grand bottle of wine, waiter in pursuit. If this makes us question where the film is heading, the next scene amps up the perplexity. Signe is at work in a cafe when a fairly shocking 'incident' occurs. This acts as the spark to what follows with Signe, and well, it's no stretch to say it's certainly a confronting film.

Thomas is an up-and-coming modern sculptor, who makes shit out of stolen furniture. As the interest in his work grows, Signe finds herself being more and more sidelined. All the attention is on Thomas, even though Signe craves her share, after all "the police and paramedics all said I may have saved that woman's life." There's a brilliant scene at an after-show dinner where she fakes an allergy, that hints at her desperation. Awkward doesn't quite cover it.

The film dances along a fine line between mental health struggles and ripping seven shades out of the privileged 'me' generation. Fame whores and wellness freaks get a proper lathing from Borgli and some of his writing is squirm-inducing. I reckon he finds the right balance but it's a close run thing at times. Thorp carries most of the film and she has to take an enormous amount of credit for some of the stuff she's called upon to do. A cracking turn in an idiosyncratic film.

Sick of Myself opens Oct 5th at Luna cinemas.

See also:

I'll stay in Norway and recommend Morten Tyldum's Headhunters (2011) and Eskil Vogt's The Innocents (2021). Both great fun.

The Creator

This is Gareth Edwards' first film since the fantastic Rogue One in 2016 and it's certainly an ambitious prospect. If you can imagine a sliding scale of sci-fi quality with Blade Runner at one end and Elysium at the other, then The Creator would shuttle between the two, eventually landing closer to the former. There are aspects that feel familiar - some moments are a bit Avatar-ish, specifically when Allison Janney's Colonel Howell is on screen - but there's a lot that feels fresh, too. 

It starts with a great premise - Artificial Intelligence has been steadily developing until around 2050, when a nuclear warhead is detonated in Los Angeles, prompting the 'Western world' to ban AI. Other regions, such as New Asia, don't accept or enforce a similar ban, forcing the US into a war, nominally against the AI and those who create or harbour them (no mention of 'New Africa' or New Oceania' or other such entities). The infiltration and jungle warfare tactics of the US authorities has a pretty heavy whiff of Vietnam here, drawing a long bow in the comparison between the existential threat of AI and the mendacity of forcing that messy chapter of history.

Picking up a few years later, John David Washington (Joshua) is under cover in New Asia when a botched attack by the US scuppers his gig and kills his agent/wife/mother of unborn child in the bargain. All in the attempt at finding Nirmata, the AI creator of the title. We jump forward a few more years again to learn that a new threat is on the table. Nirmata has produced a super weapon that can shut down the US floating super structure, NOMAD, likely tipping the war in New Asia's favour. High stakes.

The world building by Edwards is fantastic - the watery cities of New Asia; robot police fanning through rice fields; old cars with new electronics; the megalithic NOMAD, floating just out of the earth's atmosphere, raining down missiles; jogging 'suicide' bombs; clunky translation devices (ChattaBox); and a range of cool looking robots and simulants. The production design by James Clyne and the CGI are high-water marks of The Creator (here's a good read from The Credits website). The whole film looks amazing, with co-DOP's Greig Fraser and Oren Soffer to thank.

The film slightly loses its grasp in the third act where the story gets a little frenetic but, somehow, soporific at the same time. The Rogue One style righteous despair works less well here, possibly due to the lack of character development - for example, we don't get enough background of Gemma Chan's character, Maya. The relationship between her and Joshua needs a bit more than a few flashback beach shots at the beginning to give us reason to care and feel for their plight. Another issue might be that Washington doesn't have quite the talent of his father, Denzel, and unfair comparisons aside, he seems a touch miscast. His double act with Madeleine Yuna Voyles (Alphie) is sweet enough, though, I suppose.

All in all, this is a welcome entry to the original, thought-provoking sci-fi 'one-offs' stable (assuming there's no franchise on the cards). It has plenty going for it, especially visually, and is certainly worth a look. Ultimately though, Edwards has done a great job of smoothing the way for our future AI overlords by pitching the sympathy squarely in their cold, passionless favour. Thanks a lot, Gareth, you massive quisling arsehole.

See also:

I see a link to Alex Garland's Ex Machina (2014) and there's more AI sympathising going on in Alex Proyas' I, Robot (2004).

SPOILERS IN POD!!

Shayda

Shayda is Noora Niasari's first feature and almost certainly won't be her last. It tells the frustrating story of an Iranian mother struggling for custody of her daughter in Melbourne, in the face of abuse and ostracism. Zar Amir Ebrahim plays Shayda with such intensity and warmth that it's near impossible to take your eyes off her. She recently won the best actress award at Cannes for Holy Spider and it's not hard to see why. Her chemistry with Selina Zahednia, who plays her daughter, Mona, is fantastic - I even had to check they weren't actually related.

The semi-autobiographical story is presented methodically and with no little style. Niasari eschews the wides, focussing on the interiors, mostly of the women's shelter run by Joyce (Leah Purcell) that Shayda and Mona find themselves in. The harrowing elements are balanced by the sense of community and support that comes from the shelter and the people therein. 

Shayda's husband, Hossein (Osamah Sami) provides the harrowing stuff, whether it's a phone call with an interpreter about a traumatic incident or when he unexpectedly obtains part time access to Mona. There's a tangible feeling of dread when this fucker's about. Shayda slowly begins to find a life beyond the grimness - there may even be a blossoming romance with fellow Iranian ex-pat, Farhad (Mojean Aria) but the gnawing threats of hubby and Iranian social strictures are never far away.

This is a strong debut, but for my tuppence worth, there's a slight problem with the pacing. There are too many long shots that need trimming and one or two scenes that could perhaps have been jettisoned. Overall, though, Shayda is a bleak but ultimately hopeful modern culture skirmish, with realistic performances throughout. Well worth a look and it's a great indicator of things to come from Niasari.

Shayda is showing at Luna and Palace cinemas from Oct 5th. There's also a special Iranian-themed afternoon tea screening at Luna Leederville on Oct 1st.

See also:

This may seem obvious but the ending (not to mention the Iranian language) put me in mind of Asghar Farhadi's excellent A Separation (2011). I haven't seen Ali Abbasi's Holy Spider (2022) yet, but it's on my radar.

Like Sheep Among Wolves

Here's a taut Roman police thriller from director, Lyda Patitucci, her feature debut. Isabella Ragonese stars as Vera, a damaged undercover cop embedded within a Serbian gang. We're introduced to her as she drives her 'colleagues' to a meeting where a nasty piece of business occurs, followed later that night by a confrontation with an ex-lover and a drunken tryst with a barman. Frantic, destructive events like these seem to be about par for Vera.

Her stint with the gang comes under threat when a couple of extra bodies join for an armoured car job and one of them turns out to be her younger brother, Bruno (Andrea Arcangeli). Cue a confrontation at their objectionable father's place and a plan of sorts is arranged to keep them both safe. Unfortunately, Bruno has struggles of his own in that his angelic young daughter, Marta (Carolina Michelangeli) needs extracting from her dangerously alcoholic mother, so cash is required to ferry her away. 

This is quite a brutal film, epitomised by a shocking scene around halfway in. It's packed with horrible dudes that have clearly affected the lives of the women and girls around them. The Serb gangsters, Bruno and his mate, the father, even the male police officer, are all maladjusted, the former crew to the point of psychopathy. These toxic personalities go a long way to explaining the plight of the women in the film - not just Vera, but her brother's ex-partner and Marta as well. As one female officer says to Vera, "He's worried about you but he's a man, so he can't express himself." Simple backhander for the point.

Ragonese, channelling Noomi Rapace in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, is really convincing - her scarred, pierced face says more than the dialogue needs to give us. The juggling act of her double life is laid out in the narrowing of her eyes and her weary intakes of breath. It's a very physical performance and it improves the somewhat rudimentary story going on around her.

Simple the plot may be but there's very little wastage - even the section with the dog pays off. Vera is surrounded by people that can't or won't look after themselves or others in their care (Marta in particular, but the neighbour's dog falls under this umbrella too - they're the nominal sheep of the title).

The bleakness of proceedings appears to lighten a bit towards the end and there's a touching moment where Marta gives Vera a friendly nudge on her arm, causing Vera to stop the car and chase away a panic attack. In one earlier scene with Bruno she says, "I'm only happy when I'm working." As Marta reaches for Vera's hand, we see that maybe this innocent act of affection has caused a reassessment of that dictum. 

Like Sheep Among Wolves is screening as part of the ST. ALi Italian Film Festival around Australia from September 19 - October 25.

See also:

These films showing at the festival look promising:

• Caravaggio's Shadow (2022)
• The Last Night of Amore (2023)
• The Circle (2022)
• La Chimera (2023)
• Kidnapped (2023)

Scrapper

This debut feature from Charlotte Regan is a low-key, yet ambitious drama about a 12-year-old girl, Georgie (played by Lola Campbell) raising herself on a London housing estate. It becomes clear that she has lost her mother recently but is making a fair fist of it by half-inching bikes with her mate, Ali (Alin Uzun) and selling them to a local fence (apologies for the geezer language, but the film has that effect). Soon enough, the kids spot a wide boy jumping over the back fence who turns out to be Jason, Georgie's absent-until-now father (Harris Dickinson, last seen as the twatty model in Triangle of Sadness).

The central relationship is the focus of the film, along with Georgie's method of working through her grief, and this is all sweetly done. It has slight hints of another father/daughter film from this year, the superior Aftersun. I've been attempting to work out why I didn't really gel with Scrapper since seeing it a few days ago and I think it may be the tone. It's not anywhere near a bad film but I felt there was a looseness to the direction and it didn't quite live up to my more dismal sensibilities - I was expecting, maybe even hoping for, more Ken Loach and less Wes Anderson. Put bluntly, it's too chipper, too sanguine for me.

I thought the performances were naturalistic, especially Campbell and Dickinson, but there was a falseness there as well. Cockneys all around and not ONE single 'shite' or 'bollocks' uttered, never mind a 'fuck', and perish the thought of a 'cunt'. Throw me a Winstone-shaped bone, thanks. Also, the fourth wall breaking 'interviews' were twee and took me out of the film, and the emotional payoff at the end wasn't entirely earned, though it was played nicely by the leads.

I really wanted to like this more - the kid gets around in a football top for most of the film and I love the accents - unfortunately, it missed the mark for me. Maybe hopeful endearment just isn't my bag. Incidentally, I'm a bit puzzled as to the time frame of the film. It looks modern day (say, 2020 onwards), but the West Ham shirt Georgie wears is from between 1992 and 1999, when Dagenham Motors were the shirt sponsor for the club. I guess it scans that Jason said he gave her the shirt, which he may have used as a sprog, though it looks pretty new still. Minor issue, I'll admit.

See also:

Certainly, Aftersun (2022), directed by Charlotte Wells, and have a look at Ken Loach's working-class classic Kes (1969), if you haven't already. Plenty of dirty kitchen sinks in that one:)

Oppenheimer

This perfectly-tuned biopic of the father of the atomic bomb has the Nolan stamp of assuredness upon it. The opening gives us scenes of a young-ish Robert Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy) getting to know himself and quantum mechanics, intercut with a couple of hearings - a congressional one with Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey Jr) attempting to become U.S. Secretary of Commerce, and a more secretive one to decide on Oppenheimer's security clearance. Sounds pretty dull, to be fair, but Nolan seems to realise the potential for yawns, so he keeps this whole first act zipping along, with constant, escalating music (by Ludwig Göransson) and tight editing (by Jennifer Lame).

Oppenheimer breezes through this flurry and arrives at the central driver of the story - the recruitment of scientists to the Manhattan Project, run by Matt Damon's General Leslie Groves. It's around this time in the story that Oppenheimer starts to realise the potential for destruction that his work entails - he justifies it as a race against the Nazis, themselves attempting to go down the atomic route. Murphy must be on screen for about 95% of this film, and it's through his lens that we encounter people like Albert Einstein (Tom Conti), Niels Bohr (Kenneth Branagh), part-time lover Jean Tatlock (Florence Pugh) and even President Harry Truman (Gary Oldman). Throw in the likes of Casey Affleck, Matthew Modine, Josh Hartnett, Rami Malek, Dane DeHaan, Jason Clarke and Alden Ehrenreich and that's some cast, even without Nolan stalwart, Michael Caine. 

The final act unpacks the aftermath of the 'success' of the Los Alamos camp, where most of the research was done on the A-bomb. I suppose this is the part of the film where, as Billy Bragg said, "Dr. Robert Oppenheimer's optimism fell at the first hurdle."

There's a lot to recommend about Oppenheimer. It's sublimely paced for a three hour film. Hoyte Van Hoytema's cinematography is stunning. Oscar will come calling early next year, most likely for Murphy and Nolan, maybe even for Emily Blunt (as Oppenheimer's despondent wife, Kitty) and Downey Jr, plus numerous 'technical' gongs. The framing device of the 'witness stand' character references feels very much like a nod to Citizen Kane. And to top it all, I thought the way Oppenheimer sleepwalks calmly through his character assassination really showed how conflicted he had become about his role in shaping history. When Kitty upbraids him about not fighting back, Murphy's drained face speaks volumes. It's as though he has willingly taken on the Prometheus role, meekly allowing his liver to be eaten by his detractors - metaphorically, obvs.

So, why then, didn't this blow me away (sorry) like several other Nolan gems? I'm struggling a bit to put my finger on it. The music, as great as it is, doesn't let up, probably until one key scene of silence. Some of the dialogue is hard to distinguish, but that's par for the Nolan course these days. There are too many characters to try to remember - historically accurate but, come on Chris, steady on. 

Ultimately though, I think it's the subject matter that left me a bit cold. This guy's a fantastic case study of genius and the inner turmoil often associated with it. But I was slightly vexed at all the patriotism, even though it was played in a reasonably nuanced and ambiguous fashion. Don't get me wrong - Oppenheimer is a brilliant film, very easy to admire, less easy to love. It's showing in loads of cinemas around the country/world as I write. 

See also:

Nolan is a wizard and his 2017 masterpiece, Dunkirk will still take some beating. Alan Resnais' Hiroshima, Mon Amour (1959) shows a vastly different perspective to the Manhattan Project.

SPOILERS IN POD!!!

(Film stills and trailer ©Universal, 2023)

Shadow Island

An unexpected freebie turned up (thanks to Merv) for this little Swedish thriller at the Scandinavian Film Festival. It's from a first-time writer/director called Johan Storm, and it's probably just be a coincidence that a load of this film occurs during storms. Our protagonist, David (Johan L. Heinstedt), finds a box full of his dead dad's old documents at his mum's house and this prompts him to shoot off to an island in the Arctic Circle, where his old man was doing some meteorological research. Or was he?

David sets up in the North lighthouse and soon encounters Sarah (Hanne Mathisen Haga) in the South lighthouse - first on shortwave, then later in person. Curious to find out what his dad was up to, David stumbles upon various things, from non-creepy mystery letters to a very-fucking-creepy dungeon inside a cave! Double your phobia pleasure right there. Oh, and they may not be the only living things on this murky, wind-swept island of fun. It's a pretty neat scenario and the beats hit nicely enough, it's no surprise now that the Scandis have a handle on lurking dread.

Unfortunately, a couple of story points lead to a rabbit hole of ALL CAPS...…WHY!?!? Maybe it's something missed in translation but there are a couple of head-scratchers within. These involve parts of the plot that might queer the pitch so I won't go into them, suffice to say in the wash-up, a key motivator didn't make a whole lot of sense. Also, I've been poring over google maps to try to work out exactly (or even roughly) were the island is. This may seem too pernickety but the geo-politics side of the story requires a modicum of accuracy. Again, this might be simple pimple to the Nordies but I was a bit puzzled.

Those qualms aside, this was a pleasantly tense mystery, with a couple of hairy moments. Not from the top drawer but diverting enough for a cold Monday evening.

I caught Shadow Island at the Luna Cinema as part of the Scandinavian Film Festival (which finishes very soon in Perth).

See also:

There were some underground bits that reminded me of Bong Joon Ho's supreme Parasite (2019). Another great Swedish thriller of sorts (that also played at the fest this year) is Ali Abbasi's Border (2018).