Tag: Sydney Film Festival

SFF 2024: Wrap-up and reflections for the Sydney Film Festival

The Sydney Film Festival is over for another year. Long live the Sydney Film Festival.

Like clockwork, the rain started on the opening nights of the festival. Nothing says film festival in Sydney like stepping out into the alley behind the State Theatre and trying not to slip as you dash down to the George Street cinemas.

For me, it was like rejoining an old friend. Although I go every year, it had probably been about five years since I’d ‘done the fest’ at this volume. (Indeed, looking back at my 2019 coverage on Letterboxd, I have no idea how I fit it all in). There was a moment in the first week when I’d had a long day at work and pondered whether I even wanted to be out on that wintry night. Then then lights dimmed, a wave of comfort rolled over me. I was in my happy place.

So, as the festival season rolls on, here’s a look back at all the films I saw in the 12 days of SFF. You can see all the individual coverage from the links below or by visiting this list.

Features

I Saw the TV Glow

One of the buzziest films coming out of the Sundance Film Festival this year was Jane Schoenbrun’s I SAW THE TV GLOW. Not for nothing either: their cult hit We’re All Going to the World’s Fair and a plot that speaks directly to the pop culture obsessed 90s kids seems tailor-made for festival crowds. Yet, like the characters in the film, there’s a lot more going on here than the surface description might suggest. Read the full review.

Megalopolis

Francis Ford Coppola has taken some big swings in his career, resulting in colossal misses and certified classics in unequal measure. This might be the biggest swing of them all, a collision of sound, vision and existential ideas. It doesn’t all work but it also somehow works perfectly, which may be the enigma that we’ll be unpicking long after this gnarled branch we call civilisation has withered off the tree of life. Coppola’s willingness to experiment on a scale this grand after sixty years of making films is something I continue to admire, especially in a film that combines the canvas of a blockbuster with the intimacy of live installation art. If this is his swan song then it is surely one for the greatest hits package. Read the full review.

Kinds of Kindness

Yorgos Lanthimos delivers of a triptych of his idiosyncratic weirdness, giving his little troupe of actors all the excuses they need to just play. All three stories work incredibly well on their own merits, and only the second one leans a little too close to the Twilight Zone. Jesse Plemons is the revelation here, completely disappearing into each of his three characters to the point you forget he was ever anything else. It will be really interesting to see if these twisted tales stand up to a repeat viewing. Read the full review.

Eephus

A heartfelt tribute to America’s pastime and communal experiences sure takes its sweet time — and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Lund’s incredibly laidback film is in the vein of some of Richard Linklater’s work and takes a few notes out of the world of slow cinema. It is a delivery system that seems perfect for baseball. There are no major revelations or twists and turns. The pacing mimics the feeling of watching a game in full, with Lund placing his cinema audience in the bleachers and bullpen in equal measure. Read the full review.

All We Imagine As Light

The first Indian film to play in SFF’s Official Competition in thirty years may not have taken the top prize, but it’s unquestionably a winner. A meditative experience about the isolation of the city, desire and expectation versus reality. Led by a pair of phenomenal performances, especially Kani Kusruti’s award-worthy turn, this beautifully shot film that just kind of lets you bathe in it for a few hours. If there’s justice, we’ll be seeing more of this come award season. Read the full review.

Problemista

Before I go on, I need to clear the air: I’m a big user of Google Sheets. Oh no. Watching this at the Festival this year, it was immediately clear from the opening moments that the audience were the right vibe for this. Alternatively hilarious, frustrating and straight-up insightful, it’s the twin performances of Julio Torres and Tilda Swinton that glue us to the screen. An outstanding directorial debut that I would happily watch on a loop. (It’s a good thing we have a whole Torres streaming series in Fantasmas).

The Cats of Gokogu Shrine

“I love cats,” director Kazuhiro Soda told a sold out audience in Sydney. “How could I not make a film about cats?” Yes, how could he not, having lingered long on their feline forms in Oyster Factory and Inland Sea. Here he returns to the same spot, where he now lives after 27 years in New York, where he makes the kitties the stars. While Soda takes the same observational approach he usually does, it’s clear that the filmmaker and his wife/producer are very much a part of this small community. Their concerns — from cats to temples, from plants to poop — are his concerns too. Which is what makes this all the more intimate. Another winner.

The Bikeriders

Consciously name-checking The Wild One and Easy Rider along the way, Jeff Nichols crafts a world that feels lived-in and authentic while still allowing the audience to fantasise about motors and freedom and all that. Still, the reason you’re here is for those powerhouse performances. Comer is magnificent, both narrator and charismatic lightning rod for the film. Hardy does that one accent he does, but he’s damn good – it’s like he absorbs all the light around him on screen. Butler’s performance is great as well, although it’s far more obvious. Michael Shannon is terrific as always and I would happily watch a spin-off series just following Zipco telling stories. Read the full review.

Thelma

Grandmas are often our biggest cheerleaders, and few months go past without me missing mine. So, this charming as hell film cheers on a grandmother, impeccably played by nonagenarian June Squibb. This isn’t a ‘Bad Grandma’ style comedy either, instead using her innate task-oriented goodness to completely sell this often silly but genuinely heartfelt senior version of The Beekeeper.

A Different Man

This inky black comedy alternates between being tense as hell and deadpan. The real joy in this reverse body horror film is watching Sebastian Stan’s character go from being empathetic and someone to root for to the unhinged element in the room. As Renate Reinsve becomes the Second Worst Person in the World, it’s possible this film overstays its premise by 30 minutes or so. Nevertheless, Adam Pearson is just as charismatic as his character and there’s some sharp (if occasionally heavy-handed) commentary here as well.

All Shall Be Well

Ray Yeung follows Twilight’s Kiss (aka Suk Suk) with another authentic story about an older gay couple in Hong Kong. As much a spotlight on a system that needs reforming as it is an entertaining story, Patra Au Ga-Man’s powerfully understated performance is matched only by the frustrations the audience will feel at the injustices felt at every turn.

The Outrun

Built around an unquestionably stellar performance by Saoirse Ronan, this twin exploration of alcoholism and other mental health issues (especially through Stephen Dillane’s character) is a solid performance piece set against some real Orkney locations. Definitely the place I want to go when I need to write some dark poetry.

Blur: To the End

Each year, my partner and I have a tradition of watching one music documentary together at the SFF. This year, we saved it until the final night and thus To the End became my festival end. One of the better examples of the music documentary form, consciously eschewing a few of the more predictable elements, it’s an often raw and honest portrait of a group of aging rockers who are in the process of unpacking decades worth of emotional baggage. That said, for a documentary about the making of an album and a stadium concert, there’s surprisingly little music. (Even song 2, a track famous for being less than 2 minutes, doesn’t get played in full). Yet when it does kick in, you can feel the bounce of a capacity Wembley crowd singing in unison.

Sujo

Can people change their life? That’s the (eventual) central premise of this drama. At times it feels as though it is rushing through moments, while at others it slows right down to linger on them. It’s this mild unevenness that keeps this from being great for me, but it was never anything less than engaging throughout. It’s a snapshot of a life to a point, providing us with no easy answers but at the very least cracks a door open for the future.

The Hardest Line: The Story of Midnight Oil

A solid career overview that covers almost five decades in a compact period of time. Without a single talking head, save for the newer campfire footage that kicked the whole project off, this rapid collage of moments doesn’t just tell the story of a band but of a country’s political landscape from the 1970s through to today. Told in a fashion that’s consistent with the band’s oeuvre, it gets a little wobbly in the last half hour when it gallops through the late 90s and early 2000s (during Garrett’s terms in office) at a ridiculous pace. I also would have liked to see some more performance footage or songs played out in full. If nothing else, it will certainly send me back to listen to some of the albums in more detail.

Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story

For those of us of a certain age, there is our Superman. One of the things that I loved about this documentary was that it didn’t tell Reeve’s story in a simple linear fashion. Otherwise, we’d all simply be waiting for the critical event to come and change the course of the subject’s life. True to its title, it parallels the super and the man before and after the accident, given each part of his life equal weight in the telling. A highly emotional portrait of an actor and advocate, I have to admit to spending the last hour of this just constantly blinking back tears.

Sasquatch Sunset

Every year, there seems to be ‘that film’ on the festival circuit. It’s not the critical darling, nor is it necessarily the award winner. Yet it’s undeniably one of the films that many people wind up talking about, either because it inspired walkouts, seat squirming or uncomfortable laughter. SASQUATCH SUNSET has a little of each in equal measure. A curious film that combines stunning visuals and bold humour, but struggles with pacing, resulting in a memorable yet uneven cinematic experience. Read the full review.

In Vitro

The striking landscapes and moody near-future vibes feed this film the fuel it needs to sustain its gripping premise, although some of those twists and turns telegraph themselves a tad too early. There’s a lot to unpick in a film that veers between mystery and straight-up stalker violence, and Talia Zucker’s performance doesn’t just sustain the material but elevates it. Yet by the end of the film, it’s hard to tell whether this is a commentary on the cycle of violence against women or just another one of the stories that perpetuates it on screen.

Federer: Twelve Final Days

It’s possible that this hits a little harder if you’ve been following Federer’s career for a while. Yet the self-mythologising of the first half took a while for me to hook into, filled as it is with recording press releases, waiting for the releases to be released and watching the reactions to the release of the release. Gets quite emotional in the back half, and rightfully so, although for a capstone to the life of a tennis great it contains surprisingly little actual tennis.

Short films

Short films are sometimes the entrée that makes the main course all the tastier. (For our North American friends, entrée means appetizer in this case). Sometimes, they are standalone gems that make you want to see more from a fresh new voice.

Thanks to the free screenings in Martin Place at lunchtime, I was able to indulge my inner (and outer) animation buff and get some complimentary popcorn. The only real cost was a numb bum after sitting on stone steps for an hour in the middle of winter.

Joung Yu-mi’s CIRCLE embodied some of this idea of communal spaces with deceptively simple animation. It’s in stark contrast with the hypermodernity and self-aware style of the animation in Zofia Klamka’s SHEEP OUT, allowing the audience to ride the digital and neon woolly highway through reality. Neeraj Bhattacharjee’s RECORD. STOP. PLAY was one of my favourites, taking the simple concept of a satellite moving through space to showcase the enduring power of music (and more broadly human creativity).

Although slated for the kids’ programming, Julia Hazuka’s THE GRANDMOTHER is a phenomenally sophisticated and unique approach to animation. While the main characters of the spider and the human appear to have very simple line art, there’s a delicacy and complexity to everything else surrounding them. Similarly, CLOUD (from Christian Arredondo Narváez and Diego Alonso Sánchez de la Barquera Estrada) showcases a grainy painted texture of the clouds and backgrounds and is a really appealing visual. You can see how much attention to detail there was from the literal brushstrokes seen in the layouts.

I loved the joyful stop-motion of HOOFS ON SKATES (Ignas Meilūnas) and the 2D/3D blend of WING IT! (Rick Schutte), but BIRD DRONE (Radheya Jegatheva) is a saga of a seagull with a bung eye falling for a drone and settling on hot chips and revenge. It’s possibly the most Australian thing ever. The animation style is remarkable actually, with flattened textures mapped onto 3D models but ones that are in constant movement and flux.

June 20, 2024
Review: All We Imagine As Light

There’s a moment at the start of Payal Kapadia’s film that features overlapping voices over shots of an active Mumbai nightlife. As we see the activity surrounding night markets, the unidentified voices speak of the transient nature of the city and how it takes time away from you.

Yet what’s most striking is just how powerfully this casts Mumbai as a contemplative place, which is perhaps at contrast with what outsiders might think of a big city. It’s probably not a surprising approach from a filmmaker who won the L’Œil d’or (or Golden Eye) for Best Documentary at Cannes in 2021 for her hybrid film, A Night of Knowing Nothing. On reflection, I was reminded of Yuya Ishii’s The Tokyo Night Sky Is Always The Densest Shade Of Blue and the “meaningless miracle” of the connections found amongst the millions who inhabit the city.

Kapadia also focuses on two people in search of that connection, but not necessarily with each other. Nurse Prabha (Kani Kusruti) is confused when she receives a rice cooker in the mail from her estranged husband, who has been living and working overseas. Her roommate Anu (Divya Prabha) has started secretly dating a Muslim man in defiance of her parents wishes, and the pair are constantly looking for private spaces to spend time together.

Beautifully shot by cinematographer Ranabir Das, who worked on Kapadia’s previous film as well, here is a movie that just kind of lets you bathe in it for a few hours. Backed by an almost discordant little jazzy motif from composer and musician Topshe, we see evidence of broader social movements. There’s reference to class divides, working poverty and protest at various points, but the characters remain the laser focus of Kapadia’s narrative.

Kusruti’s prize-worthy performance is the lightning rod at the centre of this story, and her unspoken desires and longing simmer just below the surface at all times. On the surface, Anu’s character seems like a complete contrast, constantly rejecting expectations and wholeheartedly embracing her desires openly. Later in the film, when they travel to a beachside village outside of the city, we watch them both allow themselves to explore these wants.

The almost dreamlike denouement doesn’t offer any conclusions for this duo. It’s almost as if we have been witness to these characters manifesting the outcomes. The introduction of a hitherto unseen element almost breaks the spell for Prabha. Or, as one character puts it, “You have to believe the illusion or you’ll go mad.”

2024 | India, France, Luxembourg, Netherlands, Italy | DIRECTOR: Payal Kapadia | WRITERS: Payal Kapadia | CAST: Kani Kusruti, Divya Prabha, Chhaya Kadam, Hridhu Haroon | DISTRIBUTOR: Sydney Film Festival 2024, Condor Entertainment | RUNNING TIME: 115 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 5-16 June 2024 (SFF 2024)

June 19, 2024
Review: Eephus

Reflecting on the peaks and troughs of the 2004 Boston Red Sox season, noted fan Stephen King once recorded that it was a good day. “And there was baseball. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.” It could also be a terrific summary for Carson Lund’s feature debut EEPHUS, a love letter to recreational pursuits played purely for the enjoyment of it.

Yet it’s that possibly unfamiliar word in the title that serves as the film’s real metaphor. In baseball, an eephus is a type of unusually slow pitch designed to confuse the batter and catch them off-guard. Lund’s incredibly laidback film is in the vein of some of Richard Linklater’s work and takes a few notes out of the world of slow cinema. It is a delivery system that seems perfect for baseball.

Lund’s narrative follows adult league baseball teams Adler’s Paint and Riverdogs, who have played at the New England Soldier’s Field for years. Now the park is about to be paved over for a new school, and the friendly rivals arrive for one last game. There’s no big stakes at play, the fate of their beloved ground is sealed. So, this middle-aged (and beyond) group of players kvetch and groan their way through nine innings simply because it is what they set out to do.

There are no major revelations or twists and turns. We get nods to these people having histories and lives outside of the game. Families wander on and off the field. In-jokes and friendly taunts aren’t explained. We know that scorekeeper Franny (in a wonderfully interior performance by Cliff Blake) has clearly been doing this for years. The disgruntled Ed (Keith William Richards) and Graham (Stephen Radochia) refuse to let the game go, but beyond it being the last time out we don’t know what power keeps them there.

The pacing mimics the feeling of watching a game in full, with Lund placing his cinema audience in the bleachers and bullpen in equal measure. The enigmatic Branch Mooreland (Frederick Wiseman) simply watches, as the real-life documentarian is famous for doing. (There is some wonderful self-awareness in watching a filmmaker known for four-hour joints leave because the game has gone on too long).

Joining the audience in watching this leisurely but joyful non-drama unfold are a couple of local slackers who ponder “Why do they care so much?” It’s the central question of the picture, and maybe more broadly. “It’s all combat,” muses one player. “Life. This game.”

As an unabashed fan who has adopted the Chicago Cubs via my partner and her family, there’s a certain amount of masochism to loving the game. We are, to paraphrase Eddie Vedder, foul-weather not fair-weather fans. EEPHUS perfectly encapsulates this feeling and more. The sun may have set on the fictional Soldier’s Field, yet the game of baseball remains.

2024 | USA | DIRECTOR: Carson Lund | WRITERS: Carson Lund, Michael Basta, Nate Fisher | CAST: Keith William Richards, Bill Lee, Wayne Diamond, Cliff Blake, Joe Castiglione, Theodore Bouloukos, Keith Poulson, Stephen Radochia, David Pridemore, Ray Hryb | DISTRIBUTOR: Sydney Film Festival 2024, Film Constellation | RUNNING TIME: 98 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 5-16 June 2024 (SFF 2024)

June 18, 2024
Review: Kinds of Kindness

Fresh off the back of the award-winning Poor Things, filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos maintains his reputation as a purveyor of abstract absurdities. Using his rapidly developing repertory cast, and his regular collaborative screener Efthimis Filippou, KINDS OF KINDNESS is a triptych of tales that are connected by dreams and a man named R.M.F. Or maybe they aren’t connected at all.

In the opening story, The Death of R.M.F, executive office worker Robert (Jesse Plemons) and his wife Sarah (Hong Chou) live their days under the strict instructions of Robert’s boss Raymond (Willem Dafoe). Things take a turn when Robert tries to live his own life, and encounters Rita (Emma Stone), who seems to have taken the path Robert could not.

In the second part R.M.F. is Flying, cop Daniel (Plemons) struggles after his wife Liz (Stone) goes missing at sea. However, when Liz returns he is convinced that she is an imposter and his behaviour grows increasingly erratic. In the final part, R.M.F. Eats a Sandwich, Emily (Stone) and Andrew (Plemons) are agents for cult leader Omi (Dafoe), who is on a mission to find a person with the ability to resurrect the dead.

There’s a twin danger for Lanthimos going into KINDS OF KINDNESS, his ninth feature as a director. Anthologies are always a dicey affair, with the best stories often overshadowing the least and vice versa. The other is the danger of falling into an expectation for weirdness that he can never hope to meet now that his audience is a little larger. Lanthimos manages to narrowly avoid both of them this time though, giving his little troupe of actors all the excuses they need to just play. All three stories work incredibly well on their own merits, and only the second one leans a little too close to the Twilight Zone.

Plemons is the revelation here, completely disappearing into each of his three characters to the point you forget he was ever anything else. At this point, Dafoe and Stone’s respective brands of weird slip so effortlessly into their three roles it seems perfectly natural. So, it’s Plemons, Chou and Margaret Qualley who get their freak on in the very best way here.

It will be really interesting to see if these twisted tales stand up to repeat viewings. The second and third stories in particular land on such singular points of semi-shock that it will be almost impossible to replicate them. At any rate, we’ll get little time to ponder it: Lanthimos is already working on Bugonia, a reworking of the South Korean film Save the Green Planet! You’ll never guess who’s in the cast.

2024 | USA, UK, Ireland | DIRECTOR: Yorgos Lanthimos | WRITER: Yorgos Lanthimos, Efthimis Filippou | CAST: Emma Stone, Jesse Plemons, Willem Dafoe, Margaret Qualley, Hong Chau, Joe Alwyn, Mamoudou Athie, Hunter Schafen | DISTRIBUTOR: Sydney Film Festival 2024, Searchlight Pictures/Disney | RUNNING TIME: 165 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 5-16 June 2024 (SFF 2024)

June 17, 2024
Review: Megalopolis

Francis Ford Coppola has taken some big swings in his career, resulting in colossal misses and certified classics in unequal measure. This might be the biggest swing of them all, a collision of sound, vision and existential ideas. It doesn’t all work but it also somehow works perfectly, which may be the enigma that we’ll be unpicking long after this gnarled branch we call civilisation has withered off the tree of life.

After almost forty years in development, MEGALOPOLIS arrives with a loud slam. It begins with the frenetic energy and rapid cutting of a music video, maintaining and suverting that feeling for almost two-and-a-half hours. The setting is New Rome in the 3rd Millennium, a kind of parallel reality where the Roman Empire has fused itself onto 21st century New York.

The central conflict that threatens to topple this empire is between Cesar Catilina (Adam Driver), a maverick architect who wants to remake the city as a sustainable entity run on the mysterious Megalon, and the conservative Mayor Franklyn Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito) who likes things just the way they are. Cicero’s daughter Julia (Nathalie Emmanuel) stands between them, enraptured by Cesar’s haunted vision but still loyal to her family.

In the thirteen years since Twixt (2011), Coppola’s last directorial effort, the filmic landscape has changed exponentially. Yet Coppola remains both defiantly independent of those changes, thanks in part to the freedom of self-funding American Zoetrope through his winery and resorts, but also wholly aware of the demands of modern event filmmaking. After all, this is a film that has both elaborate chariot races and giant living statues alongside erotic interludes and media commentary. (Honestly, I have four and half pages of notes and I’ve barely broken the surface on this thing). It shouldn’t all work together, but the fact that it somehow does is one of the things that we’re all just going to have to live with in time.

In what could almost be described as a victory lap through his impressive career, there are times when Coppola is just dipping into his massive bag of tricks and seeing what works. At one point, Stargirl‘s Grace VanderWaal (playing vestal virgin pop star Vesta Sweetwater) is hanging from the ceiling of a stadium harmonising with multiple versions of herself. At others, we’re glued to the intimate and unrestrained glee of Aubrey Plaza and Shia LaBeouf involved in some verbal and sexual power play.

Being Francis Ford Coppola, the cast is a bit of a who’s who. Not everybody gets their place in the sun, such as the barely seen Dustin Hoffman, Talia Shire and Jason Schwartzman. Yet here’s a film where Laurence Fishburne is both assistant and narrator, one who vacillates between extradiegetic and fourth wall breaking observation. The film’s dialogue can be, to put it mildly, jarring at times. It’s the kind of high camp that could put this in the same breath as House of Gucci if you are so inclined. The audience in this festival session was very much in on the joke. After all, here is a work that very much finds you where you’re at.

Coppola’s willingness to experiment on a scale this grand after sixty years of making films is something I continue to admire, especially in a film that combines the canvas of a blockbuster with the intimacy of live installation art. It’s a film that is both unabashedly optimistic and deeply critical of modern empires. It is a contradiction and a reconcilement. It is, in short, MEGALOPOLIS. If this is his swan song then it is surely one for the greatest hits package.

2024 | USA | DIRECTOR: Francis Ford Coppola | WRITER: Francis Ford Coppola | CAST: Adam Driver, Giancarlo Esposito, Nathalie Emmanuel, Aubrey Plaza, Shia LaBeouf, Jon Voight, Laurence Fishburne, Talia Shire, Jason Schwartzman, Kathryn Hunter, Grace VanderWaal, Chloe Fineman, James Remar, D. B. Sweeney, Dustin Hoffman | DISTRIBUTOR: Sydney Film Festival 2024, American Zoetrope | RUNNING TIME: 138 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 5-16 June 2024 (SFF 2024)

June 16, 2024
Review: The Bikeriders

Consciously name-checking The Wild One and Easy Rider along the way, Jeff Nichols’ sixth feature harks back to a period of great change across the United States. Based on the 1967 photo-book of the same name by photographer and filmmaker Danny Lyon, it’s not quite as documentary but there is a sense of authenticity in the low rumble of its engines.

Framed as a recollection by Kathy (Jodie Comer), the wife of biker Benny (Austin Butler), the film examines the rise of the fictional Vandals outlaw motorcycle club in Chicago during the 1960s. After meeting Benny in a bar, she’s drawn into a world run under the honour code of leader Johnny (Tom Hardy).

Over the better part of a decade, we follow the violent rise and fall of the gang, who are loosely modelled on the Outlaws showcased in Lyon’s original book. Kind of like Goodfellas, the audience rapidly gets pulled into the normalcy of this life. Kathy is initially overwhelmed by the appeal of the outlandish rebels, but soon we think nothing of the boozy picnics that threaten to erupt into fisticuffs at the drop of a beer bottle.

There are violent peaks and emotional troughs, but Nichols stills gives enough space to explore some of the smaller characters along the way. There’s an extended sequence dedicated to The Walking Dead’s Norman Reedus that’s quite amusing, and a seemingly unrelated subplot about a group of wannabes that comes swinging back with a vengeance later in the film.

Comer is magnificent, both narrator and charismatic lightning rod for the film. I would not be surprised if she turns up in a list of ‘best ofs’ at the other end of this year. Hardy does that one accent he does, but he’s damn good – it’s like he absorbs all the light around him on screen. Butler’s performance is great as well, although it’s far more obvious. Michael Shannon is terrific as always and I would happily watch a spin-off series just following Zipco telling stories.

When Easy Rider hit the cinemas, it was at the birth of a New Hollywood, one that rejected the bloat of the dominant paradigm. THE BIKERIDERS isn’t quite so revolutionary, being more of a product of that system than a rejection of it, and nor is it meant to be. Yet what it does well is showcase its stars and allow them to shine.

2023 | USA | DIRECTOR: Jeff Nichols | WRITER: Jeff Nichols | CAST: Jodie Comer Austin Butler Tom Hardy Michael Shannon Mike Faist Norman Reedus | DISTRIBUTOR: Sydney Film Festival 2024, Universal Pictures | RUNNING TIME: 116 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 5-16 June 2024 (SFF 2024), 21 June 2024 (USA), 4 July (Australia)

June 16, 2024
Review: Sasquatch Sunset

Every year, there seems to be ‘that film’ on the festival circuit. It’s not the critical darling, nor is it necessarily the award winner. Yet it’s undeniably one of the films that many people wind up talking about, either because it inspired walkouts, seat squirming or uncomfortable laughter. SASQUATCH SUNSET has a little of each in equal measure.

Still, from the opening shots of David and Nathan Zellner’s singular experience, it’s clear that the Zellner Bros (TV’s The Curse) have a vision. Michael Gioulakis’s pristine photography of the misty wooded areas of the Northern California/Pacific Northwest region of the US are simply stunning, gently introducing us to a forest world inhabited by a family of four sasquatch. Then they start rutting, shifting the film into one of only two gears it seems capable of handling.

Yet by the 20-minute mark, it already feels as though the Zellner’s have said all they wanted to say on the subject. Which is an impressive feat in a film that’s mostly free of dialogue. This is one of the curses of expanding on earlier short film material, as the Zellner’s play with the same concepts that Sundance audiences saw over a decade earlier in the short film Sasquatch Birth Journal 2 (2010).

SASQUATCH SUNSET could be a lot of things. It might be a showcase of top-notch acting with prosthetics, with Riley Keough and Jesse Eisenberg completely disappearing into their roles. It could also be making a statement about colonisation or the disappearing wilderness. Sometimes, it’s like an absurd take on toxic masculinity in our society. But more often than not, it feels like a stoner comedy. For instance, there’s this long gag where the sasquatches freak out about a road, and it drags on for what feels like ten minutes.

Which is a criticism that could be labelled at the film as a whole. For all of its individual charms and achievements, an extended sequence of sexualised ‘shroom rage – or another literal pissing contest – squanders some of the good will earned. Which is a shame, because the combination of gorgeous visuals and The Octopus Project’s somewhat epic score needed something a little more robust to sustain them.

As we leave our sasquatch friends on a note of observational satire, it’s still hard to say who or what the Zellner Bros’ film is ultimately for. It’s a bold experiment crafted with technical prowess, but some uneven pacing and overextended gags make this more memorable for its audacity and its potential.

2024 | USA | DIRECTOR: David Zellner, Nathan Zellner | WRITER: David Zellner | CAST: Riley Keough, Jesse Eisenberg, Christophe Zajac-Denek, Nathan Zellner | DISTRIBUTOR: Sydney Film Festival 2024, Bleecker Street | RUNNING TIME: 88 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 5-16 June 2024 (SFF 2024)

June 12, 2024
Review: I Saw the TV Glow

One of the buzziest films coming out of the Sundance Film Festival this year was Jane Schoenbrun’s I SAW THE TV GLOW. Not for nothing either: their cult hit We’re All Going to the World’s Fair and a plot that speaks directly to the pop culture obsessed 90s kids seems tailor-made for festival crowds. Yet, like the characters in the film, there’s a lot more going on here than the surface might suggest.

With cited influences ranging from Richard Kelly’s Donnie Darko to David Lynch’s Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, it concerns two students of Void High School (or VHS to set the mood) who bond over the TV show The Pink Opaque. The insular and constantly fearful 7th grader Owen (Ian Foreman and later Justice Smith) sneaks over to 9th grader Maddy’s (Brigette Lundy-Paine) house to watch episodes, who also tapes the episodes for Owen’s repeat viewings. The show’s abrupt end coincides with some major life changes for one of them, and a stagnation for the other.

You could watch this as an intensely crafted psychological horror film. The impeccable recreation of 90s television, right down to what appears to be the same font used in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, will elicit nods and giggles of recognition in equal measure. Yet, given Schoenbrun’s cinematic touchstones, the notion of duality and an undercurrent of darkness are ever-present.

Schoenbrun has stated that they constructed the film, especially the second half of it, as an allegory for the experience of coming out (or perhaps not coming out) as transgender. Pink, blue and white motifs infuse the film, arguably suggestive of the Monica Helms transgender flag design. Indeed, there’s one point where Owen is enveloped in a balloon tent striped in the same colours. There’s other readings possible depending on how you approach this, with some traits recognisable in any trapped suburbanite.

As the ridiculousness of the 90s facade becomes terrifyingly sinister, and the overall vibes becomes increasingly claustrophobic, Smith’s performance in particular is superb. Time rapidly moves forward, and Smith’s singular turn matches his same but different surrounds. The audience remains glued to this sense of inevitable dread in much the same way Owen has since first discovering The Pink Opaque.

I SAW THE TV GLOW offers no easy answers or conclusive endings. Like its inspiration, Twin Peaks, it crescendos with a scream but concludes in a manner more consistent with the isolated Owen’s journey. It is one of those films that we will happily unpick on repeated viewings.

2024 | USA | DIRECTOR: Jane Schoenbrun | WRITER: Jane Schoenbrun | CAST: Justice Smith, Brigette Lundy-Paine, Ian Foreman, Helena Howard, Fred Durst, Danielle Deadwyler | DISTRIBUTOR: Sydney Film Festival 2024 | RUNNING TIME: 100 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 5-16 June 2024 (SFF 2024)

June 6, 2024
SFF 2024: 7 must-sees at the Sydney Film Festival

The weather report calls for rain, so it must mean that it’s festival season in Sydney again. Between the lights of Vivid and the pouring of a fresh batch of Inner West stouts, you know what else that means? The Sydney Film Festival (SFF) is back for another year.

Running from 5-16 June, the 71st SFF will present a whopping 197 films from 69 countries including 28 World Premieres and 133 Australian Premieres. The opening night film is MIDNIGHT OIL: THE HARDEST LINE, a career retrospective of the iconic Australia band, with filmmaker Paul Clarke covering 45-years of ‘The Oils.’

There’s so much to choose from as always, from new animated films for the whole family to new and esoteric entries from Yorgos Lanthimos and Olivier Assayas or documentaries about Christopher Reeve and Blur.

Overwhelmed? Confused? Hungry? Gassy? I’ve tried to narrow it down for you with some choice picks.

Kinds of Kindness

Fresh off the back of the Oscar-winning Poor Things, Yorgos Lanthimos reteams with Emma Stone and Willem Dafoe for a “triptych fable” about a man taking back control of his life, a cop who is overjoyed to find his wife rescued at sea but is unsure it’s really her and duo conducting a searching for someone with a certain skill to join a “spiritual sect seemingly built on sex.” Count us in!

I Saw the TV Glow

Jane Schoenbrun (We’re All Going to the World’s Fair) returns with their second feature — and it’s already garnering massive buzz. Following a pair of teens that bond over a mysterious TV show but have an identity crisis when it’s suddenly cancelled, and with an original soundtrack from Alex G, it’s been compared to everyone from David Lynch to Richard Kelly. It stars Justice Smith, Brigette Lundy-Paine and Helena Howard,

Sasquatch Sunset

It’s fair to say that few films have generated quite as much discussion at this one. Following its Sundance debut, audience reactions ranged from “the most walkouts I’ve ever seen by a huge margin” to David Ehrlich‘s “one of the funniest and most poignant movies you’ll see this year about Riley Keough and Jesse Eisenberg explosively pissing and shitting on everything in sight for 100 minutes.” It’s safe to say that Sydney film fans will be joining me in the hunt for these beasts.

Super/man: The Christopher Reeve Story

Superman: The Movie (1978) remains the greatest comic book adaptation of all time. There. It has been said. In this documentary, directors Ian Bonhôte and Peter Ettedgui (McQueen) looks at the star who made us believe a man could fly. Examining his life and career before and after his 1995 horse-riding accident that left him paralysed, it’s fair to say that there are few film fans that won’t connect with this.

The Bikeriders

Austin Butler is having a moment right now thanks to Elvis and Dune: Part Two, so his collaboration with director Jeff Nichols (Take Shelter) is something to get excited about. Co-starring Tom Hardy, Michael Shannon, Mike Faist and Norman Reedus, it takes Butler back to the 1960s during the rise of a fictional Chicago outlaw motorcycle club. Expect leather jackets and smouldering over-the-shoulder looks in equal measure.

The Mountain

Following memorable turns in Hunt for the Wilderpeople, TV’s Our Flag Means Death and most recently Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire, New Zealand-born actor Rachel House makes her directorial debut. In a film executive produced by (who else?) Taika Waititi comes a First Nations coming-of-age dramedy about three friends on an adventure through the New Zealand wilderness. Grab your tickets and pack your bags now for the inevitable trip you’ll want to take over the Tasman after looking at Matt Henley photography of the landscapes.

blur: To the End

There’s a tradition in our household: we see a random music documentary each year at SFF. As luck would have it, this year has provided us with a look at the return of Blur, which might now officially be a side-project for Damon Albarn’s other bands and operas. Using the backdrop of a new album and sold-out shows at Wembley Stadium, filmmaker Toby L. makes his directorial debut after producing films and videos for the likes of Liam Gallagher, Florence and the Machine and Olivia Rodrigo.

The 71st edition of the Sydney Film Festival runs from 5 – 16 June 2024 at various locations around Sydney. Check out their website for a full program and tickets.

May 8, 2024
Review: Anatomy of a Fall

In recent years, the Palme d’Or has been awarded to a Korean thriller that touched on colonialism and imperialism, a satirical black comedy about a celebrity couple on a cruise, and a body horror film where someone has sex with a car. So, on the surface, the courtroom dramatics of Justine Triet’s ANATOMY OF A FALL (Anatomie d’une chute) seem like lightweight material in comparison.

Yet there’s a lot more going on in Triet and Arthur Harari’s screenplay than a first glance might suggest. It begins with an overlapping cacophony of noise, as a reporter attempts to interview German writer Sandra (Sandra Hüller) in her cabin in the remote French Alps. Her unseen husband Samuel (Samuel Theis) plays loud music, making it impossible for the recording to continue. In some ways, the rest of the film spends its time unpacking the meaning of these clashing soundscapes.

Sometime later, their visually impaired son Daniel (Milo Machado-Graner) is taking their dog for a walk. When he returns, he finds his father’s body dead in the snow outside their house. With the police suspecting foul play, Sandra is arrested. Yet in the ensuing trial, doubt is cast by her defence lawyer Vincent (Swann Arlaud) as to Samuel’s mental state, while the prosecution (Antoine Reinartz) unearths evidence of arguments to paint Sandra as a monster.

On the surface, ANATOMY OF A FALL is about a literal physical fall. The investigation and courtroom scenarios ensure that we remember that. There’s reconstructions, deconstructions, and reenactments a plenty. At one point, we literally watch a crash dummy repeatedly drop onto the scene of the alleged crime. Yet it’s about other falls too. The private emotional fall of a person and the consequential public fall(out).

One can never know what goes on in a relationship from the outside. What Triet and Harari demonstrate is that even under an intense microscope, only fragments can truly be glimpsed. This is where the central tension of the film lies, in exploring the subjectivity of memory, and as new information is provided our allegiances might falter and shift.

Case in point is a courtroom scene that stylistically flips that opening sequence. The prosecution present a recording of an argument from the day before Samuel’s death. Instead of us trying to hear over the top of loud music, the deadly silent courtroom amplifies the words being spoken (or yelled). Both the court and the film’s audience attempt to discern what is happening from the sounds alone, and the effect can be quite chilling. It will unquestionably be a point where many viewers make up their minds.

Hüller is magnificent, navigating this space in a mixture of English, French, and occasionally her native German. Language plays an important role, in fact, as it often serves as a barrier to the character of Sandra, trying to defend herself in the language of her deceased husband. If there’s any justice during this year’s awards season, all of the things will go to Hüller.

Even at the end, ANATOMY OF A FALL doesn’t give us a convenient resolution, the kind that television courtroom dramas have taught us to expect. Yes, there is an outcome to the trial, but by now we’ve learned that the truth can simply be a decision that one makes. Sure to linger with you long after the credits roll, here is a film worth revisiting more than once, as some mysteries remain even after they are solved.

2023 | France | DIRECTOR: Justine Triet | WRITER: Justine Triet, Arthur Harari | CAST: Sandra Hüller, Swann Arlaud, Milo Machado-Graner, Antoine Reinartz | DISTRIBUTOR: Sydney Film Festival 2023 | RUNNING TIME: 150 minutes | RELEASE DATE: 7-18 June 2023 (SFF 2023)

June 23, 2023