Reviews

One question to ask yourself when watching Scorsese's The Departed compared to the Hong Kong original Infernal Affairs. Scorsese didn't realise it was a remake until after he bought the rights to the script and didn't watch the original so as not to influence his vision. The result is a mixed bag. Do large budgets and A-list celebrities make a film better?

The two films are separate enough not to be a straight-up American retelling, but the story is essentially the same. The Boston accents, and hilarious banter between the cops, especially by Walberg, who delivers some brilliant insults, are a fantastic addition. However, the one thing it lacks is the subtext of the original. Infernal Affairs was released shortly after the British handover, a time when a lot of Hong Kongers were experiencing an identity crisis. It was the perfect metaphor for the future of Hong Kong, being a mole in Chinese society to protect Hong Kong or vice versa. This was the real beauty of Infernal Affairs and something no budget or list of celebrities was able to replicate.

A very Ken Loach vibe with this film, realistic, not always easy, but never black and white. The story is about interactions and social situations one never thinks about but always surrounds us. It is a story of hope and hopelessness and the line we all walk between the two with the people who inhabit it. Emmanuelle Devos delivers a stunning performance, and Moustapha Mbengue is nuanced, often saying more by saying less.

I watched it on the plane, and I kept glancing at the screen next to me, showing Jungle Cruise. Each shot in that was lit so precisely, it was hard not to imagine it was shot entirely in a studio. People don't walk around with backlight hair lights constantly. So the raw, realistic filmmaking of Philippe Faucon was a wonderful come down.

Nomadland frequently shows a reflective Fran (Frances McDormand), gazing into the distance during the dull blue light of twilight. It is a poignant metaphor for the passage of time after someone leaves our world, but their afterglow still rests and lingering, gentle and peaceful over the plains of our lives until their memory expires into the dead of night. As Fran traverses the American west in her camper van, the majority of characters we encounter are real-life Nomads who share their stories of loss or futility, making the sentiments ever so much more bittersweet.

As a massive fan of 'Delicatessen' and 'The City of Lost Children', both movies often floated around my top ten list, I was eagerly anticipating watching Marc Caro's first directorial debut film 'Dante 01'. So it is with a heavy heart to have found the film to be relatively empty. The sets, performance, camerawork, soundtrack and design all had Caro's signature written all over them, masterfully creative and creating a wonderful offbeat world. It is just a shame the script wasn't there. It never really got off the ground; despite a few elements of potential developments, nothing ever eventuated, and the ending was highly anti-climactic. It would look great projected silently onto the back wall of a party to provide interesting visuals, but apart from that, I would give it a pass.

While I didn't find anything particularly new, exciting or entertaining about Belle de Jour, it was an overall pleasant viewing experience. For me, it is just enjoyable to see the minds at play of those of us in society that don't adhere to the standard prescribed sexual normalities of polite social expectations. Fantasies are mixed with memories, and realities of people who are going through a sexual awakening, the trauma, torment, indecision, admittance, pleasure and desire that follows such a journey.

Sadly though the film failed to truly engage me, it wasn't as titillating as a Jesus Franco film, not as descriptive as Lars von Trier. It didn't delve into unanswered questions such as a Bernardo Bertolucci not did it have the drive of films such as Secretary or The Night Porter. The surrealist mixture of dreams, fantasies and reality, however, was pleasing.

I found the interaction between Severine and Marcel to be the most interesting in the film. The gangster who desires the prostitute and deludes himself with the thought that she reciprocates any feelings towards him. It is a common theme with prostitution, both real or fictionalised, but the portrayal in this film gave gravitas to the notion, and while nothing new, was executed with perfection.

It took me almost a year to rewatch Cold War, not for lack of want, but for how hard film was to revisit. The pain, torment and anguish is very tangible, and despite the fact the key characters keep making terrible mistakes that lead them into worse and worse positions, I can't help but feel I would make the same steps. What else do you do when you can't stand each other, but you can't stand to be apart from each other? Is this love? Or is love a concept mislabeled, propelled by films like this that seem to glorify harmful and destructive relationships by malicious and foolish people?

Shot in sumptuous black and white, with a stunning soundtrack and stellar performances, Cold War is not a romance film, but rather a tragedy. You know the end when you start, but you drag yourself through the mud to reanalyse every single painful detail. A film that never answers any questions, but lets you resonate with the relationship, actions and consequences of these ill pared, out of sync lovers. Oh oh oh.

The catacombs of Paris are everything this film presents them to be, and nothing like them at all, both at the same time. The American action-horror flick sees the pop singer P!nk invites her sister to Paris to get over her childhood trauma by inviting her to a night of wild parties inside the catacombs of Paris. At the same time, her friends play childish pranks that go terribly wrong.

I get the distinct impression someone told the writer about the catacombs, they never went underground in Paris to check out the scene themselves and wrote a fantasy of what they imagined it would be like from a few fragments of information they knew. There are indeed illegal raves in the catacombs, but surely not with a fully stocked bar, with electricity, all kinds of bottles of alcohol, bartenders, fridges, stage lighting and spotlights. In reality, it is a bunch of kids drinking their own cans of beer they brought with them and a few lazier pointers. There too are police, but not quite the full riot squad with shields and batons. There are skulls, mostly inside a museum cemented off from the rest of the system, not adorning every corridor wall and every dance room centrepiece. Still, why let the truth get in the way of a good story. So what if some lines are lame, it is a horror film. At least it does play up its strengths. The gore, claustrophobia, and horror elements can be quite intense, and it is all a good laugh, really. Best watched underground.

Badlands is a dark 1970s existential road oddity through the Badlands of the midwest with fugitive Kit and his 15 crush Holly. The story, which is set in the 1950s, seems to exist in a fairytale, and this element is one of the reasons I love this film. The film is mostly spoken through the internal monologue of Holly, delivering the film as a tale or fable. She encounters a war veteran who collects garbage, a man with images of grandeur, who has nothing to live for and nothing to lose. When the two social misfits hit it off, her protective father disapproves and kills her dog, bags it and dumps it into the river as punishment; a rather drastic measure. It does go some way to explain why Holly, who we must remember is 15, seems to be benevolent to the actions of Kit when he starts to murder people who pose a threat to Holly and their survival. Both father and lover seem to resort to vicious, violent acts to protect her. He naivete does not survive the whole film though, as she tires of their time on the road, she dreams of the man she will marry, what he looks like, and where he might be right now.

While it is important to note that the film was inspired by the real-life serial killer Charles Starkweather and his lover-or captive-Caril Fugate', one should not assume the script is a retelling of their story. Malick does not reference them in the movie, and it must be said Charles Starkweather's story was more horrific in every detail. Badlands is more a coming of age story for Holly, a fall from grace for Kit, and the fairytale they lived in the moments in between.

I must admit that I adore the dialogue from this film, the subtle interactions, often littered with dark humour, and an air of altruism fill the film with a poetry that is complemented by the exquisite imagery of the Badlands, nature and the most incredible shot of Martin Sheen holding his rifle over this shoulder as the sun sets. The soundtrack further accents the mood of the film, bringing the entire atmosphere to one that envelopes you.

Graphic artist Marc Caro teams up with Jean-Pierre Jeunet to direct one of my favourite films ever, the wonderful, fantastically quirky, otherworldly fairytale that is "The City of Lost Children". However, before they would be given the funds to finance such a complicated and expensive film, they needed to prove their chops. So after getting turned down for City, they opted to write and create another equally as quirky film instead, limiting the locations, sets, and confinements to quite close quarters. The result was Delicatessen. The stark budget contrasts between the two films doesn't make Delicatessen any less of a movie, as its offbeat comedy is plentiful throughout this dystopian post-apocalyptic black comedy and its rich visual style is omnipresent throughout.

The two directors work wonderfully together to create a graphic novel in real life. Their attention to detail is meticulous, with gags one only sees upon second or third viewing, such as a couple washing their condom which has two bicycle repair patches on it, and their two children getting into mischief in the background. They were the succession of Méliès in terms of style, and of the Grim Brothers in terms of atmosphere and content. It was a grave disappointment when the two broke apart over a difference of opinions with the American studio system.

The story revolved around a former clown who rents a room above a butchers shop and performs odd jobs. Money is never mentioned as everyone seems to barter with grains, lentils or peanuts, and despite the fact food and resources are scarce, the butches seem to be well-stocked, thanks to his unorthodox methods of acquiring the "beef". He falls in love with the daughter of the butcher, and one would assume one thing leads to another regular story. The beauty of the film, though is how all of the inhabitants are secondary characters, from the lover to the elderly, the suicidal and the underground vegetarian militia. Side plots not only provide humourous relief but elevate the fairytale to a higher level where even the building and subterranean passages form a crucial element to the story, always perfectly framed and coloured with intense saturation.

Adèle (Vanessa Paradis) finds herself staring into the Seine peering closer to the edge of the Debilly footbridge before Gabour (Daniel Auteuil) tried to talk her out of it, by trying to talk her into it. She appears to be down on her luck, "Luck? What do you think luck is? You think you catch it like a cold?". He tries to recruit her as a target for his knife throwing cabaret routine, running with the pitch that the best marks come from those who have nothing left to live for. Sadly, he misjudges and she jumps regardless, leading him to follow behind her. "You rescued her?" said the medics, "It was so dark, it's hard to say who rescued whom."

Shot in illustrious black and white the film seems to pay homage to the greats of the European New Wave as they tear through Paris, Monte Carlo, San Remo, Athens and Istanbul, peddling their ever more dangerous act as the two become more and more psychologically connected. The beauty of this love story is that the two never have sex, or even kiss during the film. Not for lack of promiscuity, Adèle seems to be physically unable to say no to any man who smiles at her. Bur instead their sexual tension is played out with knives and wooden backboards. I can genuinely say I have never seen a more erotic screen burnt into celluloid than in a railway underpass, backlight with a set of throwing knives. Each time the blade strikes the wood, the small gasp from Adèles mouth is more powerful than any orgasm.

The rich vibrance and emotions packed into the black and white images only heighten the tensions, connections and moments throughout the film. The editing has moments where it takes from Eastern cinema, repeating the same action from different points of view to heighten tensions. The theory goes, show it twice, and the audience will see it once, but more powerful. Jackie Chan uses this technique a lot, but it is seldom seen in Western cinema and a perfect addition to the world of this hyperreal film.

I am always nervous when I watch a film from my top ten list, as I am scared I made an error, maybe it wasn't as good as I remember, perhaps it was on the list because of an emotion or a fleeting moment in time. But after rewatching Girl on the Bridge, I will double down on this film as one of my favourites. With so much wit, sarcasm and cabaret and circus acts, hopeless love and rich performances in a hyperreal fairytale setting, it isn't a wonder why.

Trick films often spend a lot of time and effort to create the trick that sometimes they forget to make an interesting film. I feel Locke falls into this category. The film starts with Ivan Locke, a career construction manager and family man, driving south from Birmingham to London, and the camera never leaves the car or the motorway for the entire 85min which are played out more or less in realtime. Battening with his conscience as he tries to coordinate work obligations, issues with his spouse, his children and a significant other, swapping calls from one to the other with high frequency. The camera lingers on different views of Tom Hardy, the blank night road, blurry headlights, but never leaves the environment of the cold night road. It is surprising how a film that could easily work as a radio play, holds your attention with some beautiful shots, but I feel none of the stories are concluded. Tom Hardy's performance is solid, but the voice actors on the phone can be a bit melodramatic at times. In the end, I feel they spoke a lot but didn't say anything.

I can't believe I have never seen or ever heard about this film before. To impress a girl at his school, a boy trades in his car for a Jaguar from a crooked second-hand car dealer. It was just a good-spirited, funny and delightful film to watch. I also must admit I loved the fact that I have shot a film at that very car park where the boys work, and it was located on the street I used to live, so I have some personal connection to the locations as well. This aside, it is intelligent, amusing, and keeps the pace going throughout the film.

It was the first leading role for Ben Mendelssohn and a spirited performance by Claudia Karvan. It is also good to see Steve Bisley performance. It can be hard for me to shake his role in Police Rescue and Water Rats, but I have seen him in more and more films recently during his early career, and I have to admit he had a substantial part of building up Australian cinema.

While this film didn't enrage me as much as Crocodile Dundee I did, and I mean, I sincerely hate the first film, the sequel is just meah. The first film was essentially about how Paul Hogan felt like a fish out of water the first time he went to New York, so while it rubbed me the wrong way there was a worthy story in there. Whereas in the sequel, that physical direction is reversed, starting in New York before ending back in the Never Never. It feels closer to 'Home Alone' then it does to the first film as it becomes a comedy adventure film with an improbable storyline and villainous characters who are tripped up by jokey antics, pranks and games. Maybe I would enjoy this film if I was twelve years old. So unless you are watching this with your niece, there probably isn't any reason to pick it off the shelf.

"Well, you see, Aborigines don't own the land. They belong to it. It's like their mother. See those rocks? Been standing there for 600 million years. Still be there when you and I are gone. So arguing over who owns them is like two fleas arguing over who owns the dog they live on."

With my continuing thirst for Australian New Wave films, I was inevitably bound to come across Crocodile Dundee sooner or later. I've been dreading this film, as this spoof on Australian outback has haunted the country since its release. Reinforcing masculin Ocker stereotypes and it ultimately destroyed the reputation of Australians by degrading us to a bunch of macho dim-witted provincial Galahs. For all of the valour and integrity of the other films I have reviewed, none of them broke international boundaries entirely as Crocodile Dundee does. It was the highest-grossing Australian films, and one of the highest-grossing non-Hollywood films ever made. It remains the only Australian film many foreigners have seen, and although not a bad movie in and of itself, ultimately its legacy has made it unbearable.

Is love fundamentally incompatible with artistic pursuit? Does self-empowerment ultimately require one to be selfish? Are brilliance and isolation unavoidable? These are the fragments left behind after watching My Beautiful Career. Set in a dusty outback Australia, during colonial-era times, the questions asked are timeless. Despite the title, we never figure out if Sybille ever achieves a brilliant career, or answers to any of her questions about life. Which makes me to ponder; If you wait until you know everything before you do something, you will never do anything. Then again, does one have to?

It is apparent that the director and the writer of 50 Shades of Grey have never been anywhere near a Dom/sub relationship in their life, let alone be authoritarian enough to make a film about one. As a person who has been both a dominant and a submissive I am appalled that this film even pretends to discuss the envelope this world is seeded in. From the wildly unbelievable characters, and their increasingly irritable incomprehension of each other to the childish explanations for such relationships and complete lack of integrity in any scene presented makes 50 Shades of Grey about 51 points from even coming close to being a 101 on Dom/Sub relations.

This film is nothing more than a conservative judgment call and an attack on a world that they clearly demonstrated they know absolutely nothing about the fundamentals of, let alone any whipper of insight.

One star out of five... And only barely that. My recommendation would be Secretary or even Nymphomaniac.