#sffau

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The Dead Don’t Die

What a waste of everyone’s time.

Us, the cast, Jim Jarmusch; everyone except Tilda Swinton who here made magic all on her lonesome.

When one hears that the Paterson Director is gathering his best mates for a zombie outing elation might be a fair response. Bill Murray and Adam Driver trying to one up each other’s deadpan, laissez faire reactions to an undead posse sounds like the stuff dreams are made of; the first, second or even third time they pull that bit. But when that’s all you’ve got going you’ve barely got a short, let alone a feature.

The approach of near everyone involved to The Dead Don’t Die was, for lack of a better term, lazy. Whether it be a naïve belief that the talent assembled would see it through absent output vaguely interesting or that this was just the Ocean’s 12/13 of zombie flicks where besties used a shoot as an excuse for a holiday, the movie just doesn’t pan out. A feature presentation at the State Theatre as part of the Sydney Film Festival, Jarmusch’s latest evokes the sort of fare that would more typically play in an ‘underground’ or grindhouse setting, or even the Festival’s ‘Freak Me Out’ strand.

That is not an aspersion on any of those forums, far from it, the output from which is generally rewarding. It’s just that which Jarmusch pivots too remains the hallmarks of lower budget productions and predictably more generic (if still more entertaining) fare where skint resources abound and those involved might not typically have access to, say, Bill Murray. This creative team having more ability to garner funding and name talent than near any other production premiering at this year’s Festival, those involved have no excuse.

Set in small town America and with Driver having done his bit better mere years ago in Logan Lucky, what amounts to glorified cameos from Steve Buscemi, Danny Glover and Selena Gomez, among several, falls into tired clichés like that of the ‘hipsters from the city.’ The film too neglects to really expound on any of these tropes for satire’s sake even given the strength of the character actors involved. A ‘Keep America White Again’ hat standing out as a joke for being both funny and not overplayed, many, many flicks have already made fun of what has been overdone in the zombie field, the parodies fairly becoming a (at times more successful) genre unto themselves, and there is nothing fresh in Jarmusch’s approach.

The interminable, never-ending silences between Driver, Murray and co are long enough to stick a laugh track in the middle; the repeated pauses for effect only drawing attention to these characters having but one recurring gag which was only properly funny the first time. The impact of the titular song, aired throughout, likewise fades with each replay in one of The Dead Don’t Die’s mega meta references.

Going so far as to name the Director in a tepid fourth wall break that could have been interesting had Jarmusch settled on experimenting further, the much discussed Star Wars keychain is one of the only meta moments meriting a dry laugh, as does Driver’s cop rocking up at a crime scene in his tiny, tiny car.

When Bobby Wiggins (Caleb Landry Jones) appears, evidently Jarmusch’s conduit as he knows what to do when living flesh arrives given he’s seen every movie, the aim-for-the-head gags and their like don’t land for being so obvious and signposting what perceptibly any given person in such a scenario would reasonably do anyway.

Absent any significant reason or drive for the zombies to appear, their simply being there, like they are in so, so, so many other films is boring; unlike other undead flicks to screen at this Festival neglecting to give us a reason why we should at all be interested in this latest infestation. It’s not enough to put makeup on Iggy Pop and have him raid the town (yes, in fairness this is very funny) and if you’re a Tom Waits fan he did the shtick better in The Ballad of Buster Scruggs.

Bill Murray, in the fourth wall break no less, manages a few laughs just by being Bill Murray and knowing how to mine dust from even the deepest of comedy holes; thank God for Tilda Swinton for if she wasn’t in this it would be barely watchable. Playing a Scottish Samurai sword-wielding mortician and managing to sell even the most outrageous parts of this movie, alas had she been in it more or had The Dead Don’t Die been invested with some greater imagination of this calibre then this film might just have had a little more life than the hordes it unleashes.  

The Dead Don’t Die screened as part of the Sydney Film Festival and will be in cinemas from October 24

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[citrus-robot-world]

Waiting for PoF...

Have some Léíth~ Literally just a collection of screen grabs of Léíth, as well as Sffaus great art. 

Léíth is a tiny ‘Vari Cronomancer and he is very nice. He has a tiny Baby friend called Kelp that lives with him that he cares for. @aplenipotentbear says i should put dating stats here. Age: 4 ( I think.) Height: (Smowl.) Blood type: (Yellow.) Smell: (Seaweed paper.) Children: (One.) Job: (Ex Lion Guard.) Hobbies: (Magic, being a cool dad, salt air.) Dislikes: (Spooky stuff, The gods now I guess?)  I like Léith and Kelp, I hope they enjoy the Desert. 

[sffau]

His heart was run through. 

No mortal spear of metal and wood could have struck such a blow to the prince in blue.

[sffffau]

Going live with some Midna, Twilight Princess fan art!

https://www.twitch.tv/sffau

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Kursk

Kursk doesn’t want you to remember the actual disaster too closely, just some of it’s fallout.

This week’s thriller is based on the disappearance of Russia’s titular submarine and it’s 118 personnel 19 years past. Recounting the explosions on board and the local and international attempts to rescue the crew, stretches of Kursk play pretty fast and loose with events. Told from three broad perspectives, we are taken on board the vessel alongside Matthias Shoenaerts’ Mikhail Averin, transported to the suburbs of Russia and the Officers’ families, among them Averin’s partner Tanya (Lea Seydoux), and the halls of power on either side of the historic Cold War divide.

Treated to the realities and realpolitik of the naval high commands via Colin Firth’s very British, very concerned front-man, it is this tranche that bore the prospects to prove most intriguing. The timing of the retelling, even accounting for this film’s very rote, by the numbers depiction of the disaster, cannot be divorced from the current political reality and the status of ties between Russian, western nations and NATO. The events of 2000 a significant barometer of post-Cold war relations, the diplomatic fallout of these most recent years past are no less so and it is within this context that this film’s dramatisation, intentional or otherwise, transpires.

The Kursk disaster remains emblematic of the strained, difficult bilateral relationships between many nations and Russia strongly characterised by mistrust. Pointedly pivoting to these elements only within stages of the third act, however well it is managed in passing allows precious little and certainly inadequate time to unpack what is unquestionably this film’s hook and potential for greater resonance. Instead turning it’s attention for much of the action to that below sea level, these events, having been heavily embellished, play out in very traditional thriller territory and never so emphatically as that knowingly reflective of real life circumstances.

Having said this, any depiction of what transpired for many of the Kursk’s sailors will fairly be subject to speculation in any retelling, the best parts of which are heralded by Schoenaerts’ deft capability. Having before worked to excellent effect with Director Thomas Vinterberg, Schoenaerts’ first and foremost contribution herein is an excellent long-held shot through the vessel’s deluged channels that too required a strong degree of technical prowess.  

Seydoux is predictably very good though is noticeably short-changed, as is Max von Sydow as the stand-in for Russia’s then and now leader; a curious piece of casting given Shoenaerts’ himself, a significantly more ostensible avatar, managed so well in Red Sparrow. The filmmakers’ neglecting to put in this particular figure moreover given his role in events renders him, alongside the Norwegians, the Americans, NATO and many more, conspicuous by their absence.

Sydow does however feature in one of two excellent concluding scenes, both of which could have but thankfully neglected to dispatch the political message with needless bluntness. To note; Sydow and his co-stars are permitted, unlike the aforementioned Russian-centric thriller and alike the excellent The Death of Stalin, to just use their regular accents absent any faux attempts to actually sound Russian, resulting in performances that much more emphatic.

Nonetheless pulling punches and only nominally interested in that beyond the conventionally dramatic action/thriller potential inherent in this tale and those determinedly relevant bona fides that could have rendered this retelling an exponentially more engaging and consequential film, the creatives had much else to tackle and spent way too much time treading water.

Kursk screened as part of the Melbourne International Film Festival, the Sydney Film Festival and will screen as part of the Travelling Film Festival on Saturday 17 August at 4:30PM at Majestic Cinemas Port Macquarie and Sunday September 8 at 7:30PM at BCC Cinemas Toowoomba

on Festevez

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Booksmart

Let’s get this out of the way first; Booksmart is a good film.

Relying in no small part on two dynamic leads with an instantly cognizable, contagious charisma, every single scene where Kaitlyn Dever (Amy) and Beanie Feldstein (Molly) are permitted (absent intrusions by secondary characters) to leverage off each other works wonders. Whether it be their shared dancing greets, idiosyncrasies that can only arise from a lifetime of close friendship or trolling of Amy’s parents (Lisa Kudrow and Will Forte), together the pair are ideally cast with dialogue to match.

Best exemplifying their abilities in their strongest confrontation which alternates between that heard and left to the imagination as first time feature Director Olivia Wilde shrewdly settles on panning between them, Amy and Molly’s final night before graduation, intent for the first and last time on attending a high school party, is here our backdrop.

The supporting cast (Jason Sudeikis among them) are entertaining as too are generally the varied situations the pair find themselves in once navigating their way to high school memories. A moving, often hilarious film that distinguishes itself somewhat amongst this era of school leaver comedies and/or dramas, it’s also far from perfect.

Booksmart will inevitably be compared to Superbad and not unfairly so. Derivative in no small part of the now classic where a shy, bookish figure is egged on by their slightly more outward long-term bestie on the cusp of graduation to impress at their final high school-do, the Jonah Hill equivalent role is notably played by the actor’s younger sister.

A different dynamic ensuing between Dever and Feldstein no question, reckoning with that evidently analogous between the formats and base characterisations of those front and centre is unavoidable. There’s even the car chase and some cops to boot, featured heavily in the promotional material.

Not detracting or distracting too greatly, what does is Booksmart’s upheavals in tone. American Pie, 10 Things I Hate About You, Superbad… classic teen cinema has enjoyably escalated the theatrics as acts progress and then, choosing to ram those emotional punches, dialled it back; letting the drama play out and thankfully sustaining the tonal shift so as not to negate or undermine that resonant.

Booksmart, following the formula in part, sees our heroines go through any number of hoops to arrive at those very well staged dramatic moments, only to in the final act revert to its more ridiculous tone and a very ridiculous one at that. The ludicrous premise for one character even being able to attend graduation might have worked as a gag in the more outrageous earlier segments but feels forced and out of place following a series of long, much more grounded sequences.  

Most of these outrageous segments are duly fun, even if the near-obligatory drug-fuelled encounter doesn’t exactly depict how drugs work. Billie Lourd is excellent as a partygoer who just happens to be everywhere while Skyler Gisondo surprises with one of this film’s real about-turns. As entertaining as this cast are, it’s still frustrating to see our leads, in any scene where they are not given the scope to simply play off each other, be settled with but one recurring form of humour; the nonplussed, shocked reaction to whatever craziness any given character promptly decides to unleash.

On a side note, the blink and you'll miss it Virginia Woolf reference is perhaps the best piece of character building via mise en scene in cinema this year. Including the words "A Room of One's Own" on a sign adorning Amy's room, signalling altogether that she is literary, smart, funny, a feminist and an outsider, tells us everything we need to know about one of this film's two central, welcomely complex characters.

Riotous, littered with great performers and frequently unimaginative, Booksmart deserves to be seen even if it’s but patches of what came before.

Booksmart screened as part of the Sydney Film Festival and is in cinemas from July 11

on Festevez

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FILM FIGHT CLUB S3E20: PARASITE & YESTERDAY

Where we fight about possibly the best film of the year and a film that looks as though it’s here to stay with Lisa Malouf from The Limerick Review

Wednesdays 7:30PM on 2SER and subscribe to the podcast on iTunes & Spotify!

Listen here

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Portrait of a Lady on Fire

One rarely expects a film as good as ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ to come along and we are always glad when it does.

Of the forty features this author managed at this year’s Sydney Film Festival this late addition from Cannes is a close second only to Sydney Film Prize and Palme d’Or winner Parasite.

Set in 1760 Brittany, Marianne (Noemie Merlant) travels to a remote stretch of land and mansion; commissioned to paint a portrait of Heloise (Adele Haenel), soon to be married off to some Milanese man she’s never met and as reticent to have her likeness captured.

Confining it’s action predominantly to the film’s few lead, female characters, Portrait of a Lady on Fire centres primarily on the relationship between Mariannae and Heloise and the former’s efforts to paint her portrait without Heloise’s knowledge.

At the outset and diminishingly so as the film begins to concern itself more greatly with Greek myth, ‘Portrait’ is very preoccupied with the realm of gothic yet, significantly, the form’s precursors. Commencing with allusions to a supremely chilling, tragic act that would just as well be at home in one of the Bronte sisters’ works, the feature makes exceptional use of natural lighting by candlelight and fire.

A hallmark of contemporary gothic fiction and popularised by Stanley Kubrick’s efforts in Barry Lyndon, Director Celine Sciamma, fairly with some more modern equipment at hand, manages the styling to much, much greater effect. About as seamless a recreation of Rembrandt’s (himself a forerunner of gothic aesthetics) style and shading technique as cinema can achieve, those dedicated fans of the artist, this author among them, will witness this film with abundant appreciation as with any opportunity to see it on as large a screen as possible.

Strangely tempered in its pacing in near every sequence regardless of that which transpires, the common approach works wonders in the quieter moments as the technique invites us into a welcome and necessary realm of contemplation. In the more dramatic sequences, including one confronting subplot involving a mainstay of the house (Luana Bajrami), the effect is conversely misplaced to the extent it neglects to reckon with the consequence of that which eventuates with neither a requisite adjustment in pacing nor tone.

One recurring visual vignette ridden with evident illusory qualities, taking place atop a stairs, is likewise a major and unnecessary departure in tone. The non-illusory (and too titular) sequence shared between characters in an outside setting, rendered in a similarly dreamlike way, achieves the same effect while working magic within practical storytelling amidst a tale which never necessitates such a conspicuous leap in style. A later, real-life hark back to that illusory referred to above achieves a similar effect to the ‘fire’ sequence and would have subsisted just as well without attempts to establish it’s basis in that unreal.

Making exceptional and sparing use of music, the occasions when it does appear, including an uncommon, thrilling acapella advent, are sublime. The very practical manner in which one piece factors into proceedings, beyond setting the mood, here leads to an ardently impassioned encounter for the main characters whose emotionality throughout is aboundingly palpable.

For what it’s worth, I’ve been listening to this Concerto since first viewing and don’t plan to stop.

Near best of all is the film’s approach to that erotic, with Sciamma opting not to leer or linger unnecessarily on her leads. Welcomely choosing not to treat nudity as the crux of any sex-charged sequence, that nudity which might typically be the focus of any erotic sequence is disambiguated early on; replaced here by an emphasis on that emotive shared between two characters. When nudity is featured later on, it is fleeting and given the emotionality emerges with uncommon sensuality as opposed to being gratuitous or simply there for the sake of being there, as is wantonly the case in many features.

Finally, the Orpheus myth. ‘Portrait’ takes steps, curiously similar to two of the other stand-out features from this year’s Sydney Film Festival, to elucidate on the idea of art as a simulacrum and the extent to which art, as powerful and eclipsing as it can be, can or cannot render a dutiful, complete representation of any given subject as might a personal recollection or zealous memory.

Pain and Glory examined the matter as regards cinema while Never Look Away too elaborated on the subject as it pertains to art. It is however in the plaintive treatments of the interactions between its leads as the portrait is furthered, as well as the vast array of own experiences that can be reflected in events, as that which transpires remains never so thematically confined by the film’s setting or particular tale, that Portrait of a Lady on Fire, amid so much else, dramatically excels.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire screened as part of the Sydney Film Festival

on Festevez

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God Exists, Her Name is Petrunya

A solid premise matters little when the execution can barely match it.

Petrunya (Zorica Nusheva), wandering home from a job interview, literally throws herself into the middle of a male-only religious tradition, a fixture of her small town.

Emerging from the river victorious amidst hundreds of men clutching the cross hurled in by the local Priest, shock quickly begets outrage. Soon hiding from the more violent protesters in her home and else, Petrunya refuses to give up that rightfully hers.

Introducing many audiences to the likes of a tradition with which they will be roundly unfamiliar, the best thing this film has going for it is that the creators have absolutely nailed an original plot. Conveying said story with a haphazard, predominantly inconsistent visual style, one among the film’s detractions, does it little justice.

The extended opening shot providing a promise of what this film could have been, it’s style and substance is not returned to throughout, save an oblique hark back to those initial moments in the very final frames. Alternately tight shots on characters soon give way to expanded vistas of any given room and it’s inhabitants. The cuts between such approaches in successive sequences and indeed within individual scenes are routinely conspicuous and distracting.

Heads or parts thereof are cut off in some encounters and if intentional (to possibly promote a sense of displacement) is not conducive to any effect; merely serving to highlight the disparate visual choices perceptible throughout. The action too halts at one stage for several silent, fleeting faces positioned squarely in front of the camera while in one of the film’s more interesting advents a reporter narrates often directly to viewers, though the near entirely expository bent of this role is distracting beyond all else.

Nusheva is very good; her character, the film and the title itself posing many theological questions (often blatantly) about piety, tradition and the observance of religion. In that which it pursues ‘God Exists’ opens welcome avenues for speculation, buoyed by its arguable operation as a parable-driven tale.

Had the film rested more heavily on its sparing comic attributes it might have better recommended the narrative; the absurdist, blackly comic potential evident in the nature of proceedings by no means an avenue not pursued by filmmakers who have sought to tackle matters of religious authority and suppression. Fixating on more dramatic turns however, the approach, varied and confusing as it is, does not greatly further what is in every respect an excellent foundation.

God Exists, Her Name is Petrunya had it’s Australian Premiere as part of the Sydney Film Festival Official Competition

For our interview with ‘God Exists, Her Name is Petrunya’ Director Teona Strugar Mitevska see here

on Festevez

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Julia Parnell and Martin Phillipps on ‘The Chills’

“It’s a story about Martin taking a big look at his life after a dire medical diagnosis that forced some real change… when I walked into his life I was dropped into a place where he had a Doctor’s appointment and told that he could die in six to eight months” – Julia

“It wasn’t always easy… there was nothing that quite prepared me for what we uncovered in terms of my own past, in terms of relations with previous band members who are still hurting after all this time. It’s been a lot of opening of old wounds to some extent but also a lot of healing; it’s been a long process but I’m really, really pleased with the outcome” – Martin

Director Julia Parnell and Chills front-man Martin Phillipps on The Chills: The Triumph and Tragedy of Martin Phillipps’ Australian Premiere at the Sydney Film Festival

Listen here or over on 2SER

on Festevez

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Dirty God

There were a disquieting number of films at this year’s Sydney Film Festival which sought to elucidate on the subjects of violence and, more specifically, violence against women.

Fairly and tragically a reflection of real life circumstances past and present and the influence of movements such as #MeToo, in a Festival selection beset by unnecessary controversies and ill-considered depictions of the matter, Dirty God showed us how well it can be done.

Not emerging as the best film in the Official Competition but for the quality return on investment far and above its contemporaries, in Dirty God we join Jade, a young British woman and mother; only just discharged from hospital following the first stages of treatment for a brutal acid attack by her former partner that left her with scars on her face and body.

Played by first time feature performer Vicky Knight, the actress, who suffered burns to her body at the age of eight, deserves enormous credit for imparting such an emotive, duly complex performance in of all things her debut. Given her experience with other production companies it’s commendable that she agreed to be such an essential part of another if vastly more worthy project.

Moreover, that which she evinces, including several intimate sequences, are not of the like which every performer would be comfortable with, including those performers (and statedly in Knight’s case at least at the outset) who in such course would be required to show the type of scars which are routinely absent from cinema.

Filmmakers are regularly reticent to put performers front and centre who don’t confirm to certain conceptions of what is attractive or not, while scarring has always been callous shorthand for ‘bad guy’ or character imperfections; a great and very personal frustration of this author. Commencing the film with closeups of Jade’s scarring, Director Sacha Polak refrains from lingering on her lead in a gratuitous or unnecessary form; instead emphasising the impact of the crime on the victim and the steps taken readjusting to life.

There could also have been a great temptation on behalf of any filmmaker to depict Jade as a wholly sympathetic character given her circumstance. Thankfully, this is not the case and we are proffered a welcomely multi-dimensional character. The evident contention of Dirty God is that persons affected by that which Jade undergoes are people just like everyone else and while their circumstances do merit particular support and care they deserve to be treated like everyone else.

To this end, Jade, just like everyone else, can be a pretty lousy person and if not for this dynamic we would never have had near so interesting a film.

One of the best sequence in Dirty God is a fleeting encounter that takes place outside Jade’s work. Burping in a passer-by’s face, the man turns, implicitly notices Jade’s appearance and makes the decision, rather than say anything, to keep walking. It’s a wordless, brilliant summation of a movie so well elucidating on how societies impulsively relate to those in Jade’s position and how multifaceted those individuals are who, given aspects of their appearance, are regretfully singularly characterised.

Dirty God likewise does well to cover upheavals in Jade’s conception of herself as she too, apparently used to late nights out with her friends partying, perceives and contends with changes in the reactions of those around her and shifts in her own life following the attack. Turning to the film’s treatment of violence and Jade’s abuser, it’s notable that his presence features very little in the film and then predominantly near it’s commencement during a largely procedural court scene.

Polak statedly chose not to make a film that elaborates on him but moreover on Jade’s experience and fairly the essential and significant focus in any like circumstance. There is nothing wrong with portraying violence on film but there are right ways to do it; sometimes that means choosing which violence to depict or not depicting it explicitly. In a Festival featuring films with gratuitous depictions of violence against women and violence too unnecessary to the extent that it occurs wholly extraneous to the plot or the proceedings that ensue, Polak came along and demonstrated that you can outline true to life, impactful recreations of violence without recreating it at all.

While there is violence in this film and specifically violence against Jade, the main act of violence which is the subject of Dirty God is not featured in flashback form or otherwise. The impact is to, appropriately, emphasise the effects of violence and necessary empathy with the victim rather than the violence itself or what in the hands of another filmmaker could have been some lurid illustration thereof.

An excellent feature, Dirty God is still not without it’s faults. The fantastical sequences concerning Jade’s abuser, if evidently meant to connote Jade’s ever-decreasing yet still emotional attachment to him, feature the figure with the type of costuming that might only arise in a fantasy sequence. The meaning apparent, the rendering does not measure up to the thematic impact, with the clothing serving as a garish distraction rather than imparting anything over and above that which would have remained thematically resonant absent the costume’s presence.

The conclusion shoehorns in a hurried about-turn in tone which, if optimistic, clashes with the evincing of near all else that transpires while a very blatant ‘roll credits’ moment where the term ‘Dirty God’ is mentioned needlessly takes us out of the environment of the film as if the title somehow needed to be in there.

Best of all for Knight’s performance and the thoughtful depiction of violence and it’s impact, Dirty God’s presence at this year’s Sydney Film Festival and in the Official Competition no less, amidst several less considered approaches to the subjects it pursues, was more than welcome.

Dirty God had it’s Australian premiere as part of the Sydney Film Festival

See here for our interview with Dirty God Director Sacha Polak and Star Vicky Knight

on Festevez

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Ant Timpson on new thriller-comedy ‘Come To Daddy’

“I’d describe it as a dark comedic thriller at it’s core. It’s about a son who’s been estranged from his dad for thirty years and gets a cryptic letter; “come and visit me, I live in a very isolated cabin,” as they all do. Elijah Wood plays the son, he goes to visit the father and things go a little awry. Less is more really in terms of discussing it, I want the audiences to experience it for themselves for the first time and go in with as little knowledge about the proceedings as possible because that’s the only way to guarantee maximum enjoyment for this film”

“I’ve lived and breathed this type of cinema – for me to switch gears and become a Director, all I can offer the audience out there, the listening fans of this sort of cinema is that I’ve seen everything out there. As a fan making a film I wanted to make something that I knew would resonate with people who are savvy and maybe a little bit discerning, they’ve seen a lot. It’s hard to surprise these guys because they’ve seen everything.”

“All I do is usually look for flaws in everything that I work on but I’m really happy with this, it’s come out really great and I know they’ll have a great time.” Ant Timpson on Come To Daddy’s International Premiere at the Sydney Film Festival, the first and only New Zealand film to feature Elijah Wood that wasn’t written by J.R.R. Tolkein

Listen here or over on 2SER

On Festevez

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The Unknown Saint

There’s no better place for dry humour than the desert. Couldn’t resist.

Neither could The Unknown Saint, skewering such virtues as religion, piety and perseverance in this far-flung Moroccan corner.

Burying his loot atop a hill, ‘The Thief,’ captured by police, later returns from prison to find a shrine to an ‘unknown saint’ has been erected in what he had evidently made to look like a grave. Settling into the very small town and the lives of those tending to the site, together with accomplice ‘The Brain’ plotting abounds to reclaim their treasure.

Handling this setup with supremely efficient storytelling as that described above transpires in a matter of minutes, thus begins the hilarious heist portion of the film as the pair, constantly thwarted, attempt to reclaim what they stole. What may sound like the plot of forgettable 90’s comedy Blue Streak is here handled with greater aplomb and humour; only furthered by the hysterically lo-fi shrine, protecting that sought with four thin walls, a door and maybe a couple of pilgrims.

That which soon turns into a Pinky and the Brain-esque series of escalating events as things start to spiral, the religious significance of the site, despite the pair knowing full well the plot has no actual saintly basis, drolly begin to factor into their calculations and whether to raid the ‘grave’ at all. Examining the role faith plays in the lives of believers and sceptics alike through what easily could have been a mocking, cynical approach to religion, The Unknown Saint’s focus is never so much on the legitimacy of faith but examples of how sincere rather than greed-ridden approaches to piety and relations with others can lead to fortune and a fulfilling life.

Likewise, while depicting more than one essentially pathetic character, the film, importantly, does not ridicule them. Playing the situation rather than the individuals for laughs, that it satirises is not treated with overwhelming contempt, underlining the constructive role religion and belief can play regardless of its ‘legitimacy’ and the, well, less constructive role it may play when those feckless internalise it’s precepts in pursuit of irreligious ends.

Employing some excellent world-building on this small stage as we come to learn the dynamics of the whole village, the newly-established Doctor and his very memorable assistant emerge especially vivid in what is a very colourfully-rendered environment. Identifying the contents of the burial site a little more explicitly as things progress, The Unknown Saint could have done just as well if not better with a Pulp Fiction-style treatment of its McGuffin. The material value of the prize being evident in the readiness of the pair’s pursuit, such an approach could seamlessly have fed into the parable-driven nature of the narrative and likewise emphasised that abstract and universal (and necessarily relatable) in what could reasonably have remained nondescript.

A minor contention and moreover an observation than a criticism, in a Sydney Film Festival not absent dissections of faith The Unknown Saint might just have one of the best angles we could hope for.  

The Unknown Saint screened as part of the Sydney Film Festival

on Festevez

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Hail Satan?

Possibly the only Sydney Film Festival title ever to feature a question mark, Hail Satan? was easily the best time this author ever had standing in line at a cinema.

With several films screening simultaneously, Hail Satan? attendees and ushers would routinely engage in such exchanges;

“Hail Satan?”

“Hail Satan!”

(scan complete) “Hail Satan.”

There were variations, but not many.

This bit of fun bleeding into the documentary’s tongue in cheek approach to the Satanic Temple and their stated mission to promote religious freedom and pluralism, many a US politician and Government body have got on the wrong side of the organisation for, say, building a Ten Commandments monument on Government property.

If this group sounds familiar you may have heard of them in the context of Netflix who also got on their dark side and, in what no doubt elicited a few guffaws, had to settle with the Satanic Temple over the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina’s alleged misuse of their 7-foot goat-headed bronzed winged-deity Baphomet, which was first revealed, in of all places, Salem.

Boasting the torso of Iggy Pop among much else, the Temple’s efforts to get their statue placed alongside the Ten Commandments on State steps as chronicled here markedly elucidates on the dynamics of the religious freedom debates in the US while being intendedly hilarious. The organisation’s avowed argument; display any religious symbol anyone wants, and if you’re going to display the Ten Commandments then you have to let everyone else have a go.

The documentary covers the origins of the Temple, raising questions of the extent to which it’s existence and founding are rooted in pluralistic ideals and, in the momentary words of one interview subject, just how much of this is a troll. With Temple representatives deploying varied if not unsavvy approaches to countering US politicians and legalistic arguments which are welcomely elaborated on here, some of their methods, particularly that as regards one deceased individual, will no doubt attract viewers’ ire.

The filmmakers are however never focused so greatly on unpacking the moral dimensions of the Temple representatives’ motives or actions as their efficacy; a key question which fairly underpins any sense of investment anyone may have in this documentary or the Temple itself. Too, while Hail Satan? does hone in on one segment of the organisation depicted by the documentary and the Temple’s representatives as problematic in their rhetoric and actions, such insight into this grouping or any detractions inherent within the operations of the Satanic Temple are comparatively brief.

A welcome insight regardless into this group, Hail Satan? is likewise an accessible, rollicking account of how fundamental fundamentalist debates play out in the US.

Hail Satan? screened as part of the Sydney Film Festival

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Producer Majhid Heath on Indigenous Horror Anthology ‘Dark Place’ Premiere

“Dark Place is five wickedly twisted tales from the next generation of Aboriginal Writer/Directors all looking at the post-colonial Aboriginal experience through the horror genre”

“The comedy and the horror was actually quite difficult to blend. Obviously with comedy it’s very subjective and some people find certain things funny and other people find something really quite offensive. It was about finding that balance.”

“Each film has a different slant on what it means to be a blackfella in Australia… with ‘Killer Native’ there’s absolutely a sense that the burden of history is something that we should all be terrified by.”

“It’s exciting to put it in front of people’s eyes to see what the response is… I just hope that they enjoy the points of view that these filmmakers have because they are unique and they’re looking at the horror genre in a very different way”

Dark Place Producer Majhid Heath on the World Premiere of the Australian Indigenous horror anthology at the Sydney Film Festival

Listen here or over on 2ser

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Parasite

Hundreds of films screen every year at the Sydney Film Festival and you can’t always rely on the best one, or close to it, getting it’s dues.

Graciously this was far from the case in 2019 with Parasite, fresh off it’s Palme d’Or win, garnering the Sydney Film Prize.

Heralding Bong Joon-Ho’s return to the Festival following Snowpiercer and 2017’s Closing Night feature Okja, Parasite beats them all. As shrewdly named a film as any for reasons one cannot go into too greatly without spoilers, the Director was wise to request viewers tread carefully with plot details.

Suffice to say, his latest chronicles a Korean family; mum, dad, daughter and son, seeking employment. Living below street level in a filthy alley and re-folding pizza boxes to make ends meet, one child soon fools their way into becoming a tutor for one of the two Park children; members of a much wealthier, similarly nuclear family. Not the only one intent on income and ingratiating themselves with the Parks, members of the struggling family have similar ideas.

A heist film, a shocker, a drama, a comedy and a horror that plays many of it’s most terrifying beats for laughs, the unique genre fusions of all things settle primarily on being a family film. A plot that could just as well have delivered a PG comedy had it gone for a different tone in it’s final acts (unusually, there are four), Parasite is most essentially about the ties that bind and how families, despite any tensions, are drawn together in overcoming difficulty and in this case extreme circumstances.  

The Sneakers of family movies (which too albeit had a strong familial element), the second act takes on a calculated, hilarious approach to the individual family members realising where they need to get to and what they’ve got to do to make it happen. With the third act quickly pivoting into thriller-comedy territory, it would be remiss to discuss in even vague terms the events on which this story turns or the brilliant, resounding fourth act; emerging as this film’s most memorable.

Curiously, Parasite could just as well have ended on the conclusion of its third portion in light of this segment’s searing and patently biblical significance. Thankfully, however, proceedings continued.

Beyond that discussed Parasite remains a considered class drama as we witness the disparities between the families; the film taking steps to convey the recognisable divide that was too very much the subtext of, for instance, H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine. With Wells famously illustrating the issues through use of a clever if none too subtly-stated metaphor, Parasite manages that analogous to Wells’ output with greater creativity; seamlessly rendering that thematic into the narrative in abounding, practical ways.  

In this respect it is especially interesting to compare Parasite with Jordan Peele’s Us, released only months prior, which similarly focused on two mirror nuclear families of four who had experienced very different lives. The comparisons don’t stop there, and again, not going to spoil this movie, but the heavily overstated metaphor which Peele pursues is rendered, unlike in Us, pragmatically within the narrative to the extent that Parasite can be enjoyed purely for its dramatic bona fides absent any emphasis, immaculate as it is, on that symbolic.

Parasite too does well to not elaborate on class discrimination as singularly dimensional, with the blatant actions of more than one of the Parks contrasting heavily with some of the subtle, heedless behaviour by family members who would just as well believe they are being gracious.

Predictably, the film is beautifully shot, making exceptional use of the open plan production design to produce uncommon, gorgeous depth within the relatively confined space of the Park’s home. Piling in seemingly inconsequential asides and clues only to reveal their relevance in the traditions of the best thriller fiction, Parasite welcomely treats it’s audience with a great deal of intelligence. The film recognises which story turns are evident, sagely choosing to emphasise that affecting about these moments rather than gratuitously treating them as shocking twists, as it fairly does some other instances.

For Parasite’s faults, there is but one that emerges as bothersome. The premises of so many films depend, if you dig just a little, on one accepting one happenstance or another or a character not imparting some necessary piece of information. In this case, in the broadest terms, the final acts would not have taken place had an off-screen individual told the Parks of a key aspect of an item which our wealthy family purchases. Yes an explanation is provided but it just doesn’t hold up and you’d expect in any circumstance that it is something that would be raised and of which the Park family would be aware.

In any matter it is a most minor detraction of a masterful cinematic endeavour and a contender for the best film of 2019.

Parasite screened as part of the Sydney Film Festival and will be in cinemas from June 27

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