Here we are again. It’s been about fifteen months since I last reflected on sitting, working and watching from home. Sydney’s back in a not wholly unexpected lockdown until at least the end of July. Once again, I’ve started writing things down. If you’re reading this, it also means I also hit he publish button.
So, how are you doing? No, really: how are you doing? I don’t ask that enough. While I’ve pulled back from social media a bit, it’s always good to stay in touch. (And if you don’t have someone to reach out to, there’s plenty of places who can take your calls). My coping mechanism last year it was vodka martinis and cheese dip. This year, it’s beer and ice cream but the reflex is one in the same. My search history is peppered with gems like ‘why is beer foam important’ and ‘duck in hat.’ We all cope in our own ways.
Film, of course, is a constant companion. One community I can always rely on for an opinion are film fans. Sitting on the Governing Committee of the Online Film Critics’ Society (OFCS), I see a lot of film chatter. I actively seek it out on Twitter. One of the singular joys of 2021 so far has been #PreCodeApril, an initiative from the mind of Matthew Turner (Fatal Attractions Podcast) that celebrated the salacious wonders of Hollywood’s sin in soft focus between 1929 and 1934. (Here’s all the films I watched. For the record, It Happened One Night is a perennial favourite and James Whale’s The Old Dark House was a gem of a personal discovery).
“Some birds can’t be caged…”
The brief window out of lockdown reminded me of the power of a crowded cinema. We’ve had the collective experience of watching a monkey fight a lizard with Godzilla Vs. Kong. We cheered and exchanged baffled gleeful looks in equal measure at Fast and Furious 9. We held our breath in unison at A Quiet Place: Part II. We sang along to In the Heights. On a smaller scale, I’ve hung out a mate’s place re-watching Highlander for the umpteenth time, and introduced my partner to The Godfather trilogy from the comfort of our sofa.
Yet I can’t pretend the last year hasn’t irrevocably changed my viewing habits. When Black Widow premiered exclusively in Sydney on Disney+ due to our local cinemas being closed, I didn’t bat an eyelid. Sure, it’s the first time since 2008 I’ve not seen an MCU film in a cinema, but a trio of excellent series (including the most recent Loki) have gotten us used to seeing these characters from the comfort of our own home. Indeed, when I do venture out these days, it’s more likely to the theatre or a local watering hole. Theatre highlights so far have included Fangirls (Belvoir), Berlin (MTC), We Are Here (Darlinghurst Theatre Company), Fun Home (STC) and, of course, Hamilton. Twice.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy cinema events and face to face festivals: they provide a chance to catch up with old friends and colleagues and have my back teeth rattled by ATMOS sound. Yet if 2020/2021 has taught us anything, it’s that the very notion of ‘cinema’ is a fluid one. After all, I’ve already travelled the world’s festival circuit this year thanks to some robust online programming. I was able to fully cover IFFR, the Berlinale, SXSW and Germany’s Nippon Connection thanks to their excellent digital platforms and generous consideration of international critics. The chance to see gems like Petite Maman, Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn, Natalie Morales’ Language Lessons, Germany’s The Girl and the Spider, Leah Purcell’s The Drover’s Wife: The Legend of Molly Johnson, Edgar Wright’s The Sparks Brothers and Malcolm Ingram’s Clerk ahead of their local releases was simply amazing. So many premieres — and no need to rent a tux.
Home film schooling
Which still leaves me and the rest of the city at home in July 2021 thanks to Sydney’s current version of a lockdown. Unlike last year’s #isolife, I’m cautiously hopeful. Dusting off some cellared beer and my film archives in equal measure, I’m taking each day as it comes and jumping at the chance to return to some old favourites and learn a little more about film.
Inspired by the Cannes premiere of sexy nun film Benedetta, I’ve started going back to look at the early films of Paul Verhoeven. While I’ve seen Showgirls more times than I care to admit, I’d never really watched much of Verhoeven’s pre-Hollywood output. His short films are hard to come by outside of Europe, but some can be found online. From the French New Wave inspirations of One Lizard Too Many to the more overt militarisation of Het korps Mariniers (stuff we’d see in later films like Starship Troopers), it’s a fascinating departure. I even delved into his first commercial work, the 1969 Dutch adventure series Floris, the first of many collaborations with an impossibly young Rutger Hauer.
Yet the real joy has been in going down rabbit holes. After randomly watching Pillow Talk, I followed Rock Hudson, Doris Day and Tony Randall into the comedy of errors, Send Me No Flowers. The inexplicable urge to watch Judy Holliday and Dean Martin in Bells Are Ringing led me to Holliday’s Oscar-winning performance in the delightful Born Yesterday. I can’t explain the afternoon where we watched Legally Blonde and Bring It On back-to-back. More recently, after an announcement of an extended lockdown, a repeat viewing of Groundhog Day seemed incredibly appropriate.
At the time of writing, Sydney has another two weeks of lockdown ahead of it unless the number of community transmissions radically reduces. Melbourne has also gone into it’s fifth lockdown since the start of the pandemic. It’s hard not to feel stressed constantly when it’s all feeling a bit apocalyptic on the news and social channels. Then through serendipity my partner stumbled across a clip of Judy Garland singing ‘I Don’t Care’ from the film musical In the Good Old Summertime, a remake of The Shop Around the Corner and the precursor to You’ve Got Mail. Perhaps Judy Garland is the whole reaction mood GIF we need in our lives right now.
Here’s hoping that this column won’t become a trilogy. As I said last year, just be kind to yourself: find enjoyment where you can and respect your community by staying at home. Safe safe out there, film friends.
