LILET NEVER HAPPENED

Stars: Sandy Talag, Johanna ter Steege, John Arcilla, Angeli Bayani, Dorothea Marabut-Yrastorza and Jermaine Patrick Ulgasan.
Writers: Jacco Groen, Roy Iglesias.
Director: Jacco Groen.

Screening as the Closing Night Film at the Reel Sydney Festival of World Cinema.

Watch the trailer here.

Rating: 3.5/5

Finding bittersweet humour and heartbreaking humanity amongst the horror of the child prostitution industry of Manila is key to the impact that Dutch filmmaker Jacco Groen achieves with his debut feature, Lilet Never Happened. As one of Europe’s most respected documentarians, he has developed a distinctly empathic eye which, along with a measured degree of craftsmanship, keeps the narrative buzzing with real-world intensity, with the occasional indulgence in wish fulfilment movie moments.

Crucial to the film’s emotional heights is Sandy Talag as Lilet, the hardened 12 year-old who has fled an abusive, exploitative domestic life to live amongst the runaways and orphans in the shadowy alleyways and abandoned lots of the Filipino capital. Talag is a soaring onscreen presence; a naturally gifted performer who can play tough and tender in the same frame, she is called upon to navigate scenes that would test actresses twice her age and experience.

Having dodged the lascivious advances of a corrupt official (Hilario Nayra) while incarcerated, a sceptical Lilet is befriended by social worker Claire (Johanna ter Steege). Despite the offer of education and shelter in Claire’s school for disadvantaged kids, Lilet seeks out her elder sister Tessie (Dorothea Marabut), a ‘club dancer’ who services high-paying customers under the watchful eye of ruthless house mama Madame Curing (Grace Constantino, delivering the film’s other deeply resonant performance). Despite her protestations, Lilet becomes embroiled in the skin trade, her youth and beauty fetching top dollar amongst the establishment’s high-paying predators.

Lilet occasionally glimpses a life that more appropriately suits her tender years. She shares a sweet bond with fellow street-kid Nonoy (Tim Mabalot) and exhibits an affectionate bond with her younger brother Dino (Jermaine Patrick Ulgasan), whose unflinching hope that his sister will provide the new life that both desperately need gives the film a vital warmth. But the indelible sequences are those in which Talag portrays Lilet’s spiralling acceptance of life as a sex worker; in one memorable sequence, the actress achingly conveys an existential crossroad, striding through the red-lit hallways of the club’s ‘back rooms’ contemplating the consequences of a life under Madame Curing’s soulless exploitation.

Adopting an innocent’s point-of-view of a harsh, often inhumane society puts Groen’s film in the company of such lauded films as Francois Truffaut’s The 400 Blows (1959), Danny Boyle’s Slumdog Millionaire (2008) and Mira Nair’s Salaam Bombay (1988); it most strongly recalls Jeffery Brown’s Sold (2014), which examines the trafficking of a Nepalese girl to sex trade in India, and Keren Yedaya’s haunting 2004 Israeli drama, Or (My Treasure).

Lilet Never Happened falls just short of the classics of the genre; some rote characterisations and treacly sentiment occasionally derail the compelling, hard-edged realism at which Groen excels. Yet it remains a bracing, bold insight into the child sex criminal underworld, conveying a human spirit crushed into submission yet surging with the strength it takes to survive such abuse and injustice.

Lilet Never Happened will have its Australian Premiere at the Reel Sydney Festival of World Cinema. Ticket and venue information available at the event’s official website here.

THE CRITIC'S CAPSULE: REVELATION 2015, VOLUME 2.

Revelations has always fearlessly programmed works that emerge from the outer fringes of international cinema. Some label it ‘underground’ or ‘niche’, but fact is many of the highlights at this (or any) Revelations exist in a realm of their own creation, set apart by unclassifiable visions by one-off filmmaking talents. In Volume 2 of our Critic's Capsule look at Revelation 2015, we consider five films that will loudly and proudly divide audiences and ensure the Perth festival remains high on the list of events for moviegoers seeking boldly challenging cinema… (also, check out Volume 1 of our Revelations review coverage here)

H. (Dirs: Rania Attieh, Daniel Garcia / USA, Argentina, 95 mins)
The Argentinian directing duo of Rania Attieh and Daniel Garcia adapt the classic Helen of Troy story to the contemporary township of Troy, New York and construct a bewildering narrative that reworks B-movie ‘meteor shower madness’ tropes into a mind-boggling sci-fi study in fear, madness and detachment. The story encompasses the experiences of two Helens; one, an elderly married woman (Robin Bartlett, terrific) with an obsession for life-like dolls and desperation to find her husband (Julian Gamble) after he, along with many of the townsfolk, disappear in the wake of a meteor’s flyover; the other, an artist (Rebecca Dayan; pictured, above), expecting a child with her husband (Will Janowitz), but who is experiencing ‘glitches’ in her daily reality. One can view H. as a wildly inventive take on the alien abduction phenomenon, but there always seems to be a lot more going on beneath the surface of Attieh and Garcia’s moody, captivating (occasionally, abstract and frustrating) filmic mystery. The determined, often artsy ambiguity may drive some to distraction (reactions from Sundance and Berlin ran the gamut), yet there are moments of undeniably engrossing psychological drama.
You’ll be talking about…: Young Helen’s nightmarish encounter with The Black Horse.
RATING: 4/5 

YAKONA (Dirs: Paul Collins, Anlo Sepulveda / USA, 85 mins)
Providing a wordless voice for the majestic San Marcos River to impart a memory forged over 10,000 years, Yakona is a rousing natural history installation/videographic essay that chronicles the great waterway’s interaction with those with whom it shares the Earth. Co-director Collins crisp, immersive cinematography cuts seamlessly between images of plant and animal life sharing the mineral-rich, crystal waters with mankind through the ages (first the rightful owners of the land, the Clovis and Coahuiltecan tribes, then the invasive and violent first wave of white settlers). It lacks the soaring bravado and epic scale of Godfrey Reggio’s Powaqqatsi (1988) and Koyaanisqatsi (1982) and Ron Fricke’s Baraka (1992), still the standard bearers for this type of awe-inspiring study of our planet’s many faces. Nevertheless, co-helmers Collins and Anlo Sepulveda capture the wonder and delicacy of a life-giving tributary in all its complex and captivating glory.
You’ll be talking about…: The snapping turtle versus the duck (a tip – stay through the end credits; pictured, right).
RATING: 3.5/5

WHAT I LOVE ABOUT CONCRETE (Dirs: Alanna Stewart, Katherine Dohan / USA, 87 mins)
For all the love afforded our teen movie ‘classics’ (The John Hughes trilogy, Heathers, Fast Times at Ridgemont High, to name a few), all are still bound by an adherence to form and structure that feels very…well, ‘adult’. None have ever fully captured the invented languages, insanely free-form humour, outsider angst and wildly romantic abandon that spews forth wondrously unfettered from the highschooler’s psyche. One of the most impressive achievements of Memphis-based filmmakers Alanna Stewart and Katherine Dohan’s adorable fantasy What I Love About Concrete is that it feels entirely borne of a teenager’s diary doodles, writ larger than life with the fanciful but meaningful eccentricities that exist within an average 11^th grader’s headspace. As heroine Molly Whuppie, the Alice archetype who finds herself down a middle-class rabbit hole of her own creation, Morgan Stewart is warm and wonderful. Shot on next-to-no budget over several years with friend and family non-pro actors in key roles, Stewart and Dohan have conjured a high-school classic; a ‘Gilliam-esque’ teen-dream landscape filled with giddy humour, sweet innocence and touching emotion.
You’ll be talking about…: Claire Faulhaber as nutty bff Georgie, whose stream-of-consciousness hallway monologuing is hilarious. And the superb soundtrack (which should be bought here)
RATING: 4.5/5

ASPHALT WATCHES (Dirs: Shayne Ehman, Seth Scriver / Canada, 94 mins)
Picture, if you will, an animated odyssey that follows two best buds, Bucktooth Cloud and Skeleton Hat (pictured, right), as they traverse the Canadian heartland, encountering all manner of weird, violent, crude and unwholesome Canuck natives. This is the basis for Asphalt Watches, a truly hallucinogenic cinematic trip dreamed from deep within the creative subconscious of writer/directors Shayne Ehman and Seth Scriver (who also voice the protagonists). Stylistically resembling an early 90s ‘side-scrolling’ video game and interspersed with groaning, industrial audio cues and repetitive musical interludes, this garish, grotesque work of flash-animated surrealism might best be described as the lovechild of psychedelic cartoonist Robert Crumb and Pendleton Ward, creator of the TV series Adventure Time. Several reviews suggest watching under the influence of whatever drugs you can get your hands on, but there is a good chance that the occasionally nightmarish images and relentlessly downbeat heroes will lead users to a very bad trip.
You’ll be talking about…: Well, take your pick. The hideous car crash sequence; Santa Claus and his addiction to fast food between Decembers; the talking hand. Maybe just the anti-heroes themselves. Good luck…
RATING: 3.5/5 

THE CREEPING GARDEN (Dirs: Tim Grabham, Jasper Sharp / UK, 81 mins)
Finding universal relevance and existence-defining properties in the nutrient rich slime moulds found in the dense forest undergrowth was the profound aim of documentarians Tim Grabham and Jasper Sharp with their passion project, The Creeping Garden. And, as unlikely as it may seem, their mission has been accomplished with resounding and wonderfully entertaining aplomb. From the pulsating electrical current that courses through its living tissue to the offbeat and wonderful aficionados who exist to explore its ever-expanding durability as a life form, slime mould makes for one of the most fascinating and complex central figures in any film this year. The Creeping Garden at first appears to be a rather stuffy British naturalist pic but, if Grabham and Sharp’s utterly engaging and refreshingly intelligent doco teaches you anything, it is that the best of what’s on offer is often found beneath the thin veneer of preconception.
You’ll be talking about…: The android head, wired to the electrical bio-rhythms of the slime mould, giving a face and voice to the acellular, jelly-like protoplasm.
RATING: 4/5

All ticketing and venue information for 2015 Revelation Perth International Film Festival are available at the event's official website.

THE CRITIC'S CAPSULE: REVELATION 2015, VOLUME 1.

The 2015 slate of films screening at Revelation Perth International Film Festival is as compelling and eclectic as any in it’s history. We’ve come to expect that from the programming team, who seek the truly unique and challenging in world cinema. SCREEN-SPACE will offer extensive review coverage with our new ‘Capsule Critic’ format, kicking off with five of the most anticipated films on the RevFest schedule… 

THE TRIBE (Dir: Miroslav Slaboshpitsky / Ukraine, Netherland; 132 mins / pictured, above)
The toast of the international film festival circuit for much of 2015 (it has 24 trophies to date, from Cannes to Sitges to Thessaloniki), Miroslav Slaboshpitsky’s study of teenage tribalism and the brutal adherence to a gangland-style hierarchy is a grimy, gripping, unrelenting vision. Setting the narrative in a steely grey boarding school for the deaf and employing Ukrainian sign language in place of a single word of dialogue or subtitles serves to draw in the audience with a vice-like grip. Brutal violence, graphic sexuality and a central figure shaded in his own dark immorality make The Tribe a tough film to connect with (despite all the festival acclaim, it has struggled to find distribution in many territories) but it is nevertheless an extraordinary study in isolation and exploitation and an exciting, technically accomplished first feature from the Ukrainian auteur.
You’ll be talking about…: The single-take, fixed-camera matter-of-factness Slaboshpitsky utilises, put to no more brilliantly disturbing use than during the abortion sequence. And that ending… 
RATING: 4/5 

THE FORBIDDEN ROOM (Dir: Guy Maddin, Evan Johnson / Canada; 130 mins / pictured, right)
Working creatively unfettered in a bold, bewildering genre all of his own creation, Canadian maverick Guy Maddin (My Winnipeg, 2007; The Saddest Music in The World, 2003) kicks of his latest celebration of the confoundingly recherché advocating the joys of a hot bath before plunging the ocean depths and joining the crew of a doomed submarine. Maddin’s vision (shared with longtime collaborator Evan Johnson, earning a first-time director’s credit alongside his mentor) encompasses florid, screeching detours into worlds far beyond the confines of the sub, employing such influences as Kafka, Burroughs and German expressionist cinema in his exploration of the very nature of storytelling. Scratched and crumpled film stock, soaring melodrama, silent era title cards, multi-layered narratives and a garish palette barely skim the surface when trying to describe the outsider auteur’s latest, daring, giddily abstract work. Actors love him; on hand are Udo Kier, Matthieu Almaric; Maria Medeiros, Charlotte Rampling, Elina Lowensohn and Geraldine Chaplin. Audiences unfamiliar with Maddin’s methods can be less forgiving (there were walkouts during the recent Sydney Film Festival sessions). Stick with it…
You’ll be talking about…:  The Aswang.
RATING: 3.5/5 

THE HUNTING GROUND (Dir: Kirby Dick / USA; 103 mins)
College campus sexual assault is exposed for the American epidemic it truly represents in Kirby Dicks’ deeply disturbing call-to-action documentary. Just as the statistics hit home regarding the regularity with which women (and men) are raped in the hallowed halls of our revered tertiary education institutions, the filmmakers double-down with revelations that connect the amount of crimes reported and convictions sought with the silencing role played by administrators in charge of admissions levels and fund-raising. A determined investigative journo with serious filmmaker cred (the Oscar nominated The Invisible War, 2012; This Film is Not Yet Rated, 2006), Dick’s latest documentary sometimes appears unwieldy, his desire to fully convey the scope of the issue dictating an occasionally rat-a-tat presentation of facts, figures and faces. But there is no denying the director achieves his primary goal; the stark presentation of horrifying numbers, backed by heartbreaking first-hand accounts of those dealing with shattered dreams, blunt-force betrayal and broken innocence.
You’ll be talking about…: The ingrained misogyny of American frathouse culture, fuelled by a grotesque sense of self-entitlement that leads to campus rallies in which our future leaders chant, “No Means Yes! Yes Means Anal!”
RATING: 4/5 

STATION TO STATION (Dir: Doug Aitken / USA; 71 mins)
In just under a month, the ‘Station to Station Express’ travelled 4000 miles of America’s finest railroad tracks (pictured, right). Along the way, artists of every creative bent would hop on and off as they pleased, sharing their creations with the land and its people. Doug Aitken wields all manner of filming techniques in compiling the 62 short films that chronicle what organisers call “a living project exploring modern creativity,” (a London leg launched on June 27). As with all anthology films, some instalments connect better than others; even at a scant 71 minutes, the length of Aitken’s film feels about right. If it never manages to gel as a cohesive cinematic whole, it certainly captures the spirit of unity and joy of creating art that is immediately embraced by a new, wider audience.
You’ll be talking about…: ...whichever of the 62 featured artists most impresses. We favoured the electronic art of Icelandic ‘elemental sculpture’ Olafur Eliasson, in which he records the speed and movement of the train and creates strobe-light ‘pulse-images’
RATING: 3/5 

SPRING (Dirs: Justin Benson, Aaron Moorhead / USA; 109 mins)
Director team Benson and Moorhead impressed the underground festival crowd with their weird, wonderful cabin-in-the-woods variant, Resolution (2012), then backed it up with the best of an ok bunch in V/H/S Viral (2014). With Spring, they deliver on the promise they’ve shown, exhibiting considerable growth and ambition as storytellers as well as crafting a fine example of that toughest of genres, the horror/romance. As Evan, the wayward American dodging cops and responsibility amongst some of Italy’s most picturesque seaside locales, genre fave Lou Taylor Pucci (Southland Tales, 2006; Carriers, 2009; Evil Dead, 2013) finds the alluring Louise (German ingénue Nadia Hilker; pictured, right) irresistible, romancing her despite some hard-to-read signals she is giving off. Love can be rocky road, but Evan can’t have seen what he must deal with if he is to keep his Euro-fantasy dreamgirl. Think Before Sunrise as written by HP Lovecraft; or, a Richard Linklater version of Species.
You’ll be talking about…: Some convincing practical effects (the fate of a sleazey alley way pick-up is especially unpleasant), but also some tender moments Pucci shares with an elderly orchard farmer (the wonderful Francesco Carnelutti), discussing the nature of fate and love.
RATING: 3.5/5

All ticketing and venue information for 2015 Revelation Perth International Film Festival are available at the event's official website.

THE CRITIC'S CAPSULE: SYDNEY FILM FESTIVAL, VOLUME 2.

For Volume 2 of The Critic’s Capsule, SCREEN-SPACE ventures to every corner of the Sydney Film Festival program, presenting our take on a much-loved actress’ latest US indie, a Swedish drama about body issues, a South African documentary on an immortalized text, an insider’s look at Italy’s most famous horse race and a post-apocalyptic vision with BMX bikes…

PALIO (Dir: Cosima Spender / UK, Italy, 92 mins / pictured, above)
In his unbridled account of the Palio - the bareback, city-square horse-riding event that enthralls the population of Italy twice a year - acclaimed documentarian Cosima Spender (Dolce vita africano, 2008; Without Gorky, 2011) captures not only the brutal spectacle of the race but also the essential purity of Italian machismo. Ego, honour, ruthlessness, social stature and courage are both celebrated and brought down a peg or two in this wonderfully entertaining account of the legends who have flown the flags of the competing regions to magnificent highs and crashing lows. As pulse-pounding as the thunderous derby appears on screen, it is the rife corruption and crooked traditions that often prove the most entertaining aspect of Spender’s feature-length debut (a Tribeca best documentary nominee).
You’ll be talking about…: The smug charm of alpha-male Gigi Bruschelli, firm in his belief that a record 14^th Palio win is his heaven-sent destiny.
RATING: 4/5

THE DREAM OF SHAHRAZAD (Dir: Francois Verster / South Africa, Egypt, Jordan, France, The Netherlands, 107 mins / pictured, right)
One of the defining social texts of world literature, The 1001 Nights (aka Arabian Nights) relates the story of the great storyteller Princess Scheherazade, who defied the blade of her lover and king by crafting an endless narrative that would ultimately see her life spared and the monarch humbled. South African director Francois Verster frames a study of swift, often violent socio-political change in the Middle East within a celebration of music, art, performance and the redemptive power of positive creativity. Shot over two years and incorporating such outwardly disparate elements as the Turkish National Youth Orchestra’s staging of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade and graphic images from the Arab Spring uprising, Verster considers the legacy of The 1001 Nights while crafting a challenging, vast yet intimate tapestry of personal and cultural significance.
You’ll be talking about…: An Alexandrian actor and a troupe of Cairo-based performers stage readings of testimonies for the martyrs of the January 25 Revolution, written by the mothers of the deceased.
RATING: 4/5 

GRANDMA (Dir: Paul Weitz / USA, 78 mins)
Lily Tomlin sets her sights on Oscar glory as Elle Reid in writer/director Paul Weitz’s razor-sharp character-driven comedy/drama, Grandma. Cutting a tart-mouthed swathe through the upscale gay and intellectual enclaves of LA in her search for the $630 needed to help her granddaughter Sage (Julia Warner, finally finding a worthy vehicle for her talents), Tomlins’ lesbian-poet-misanthrope reps a tour-de-force role. Having been cast aside by the LA suits after back-to-back duds Being Flynn and Admission, Weitz reconnects with the smart, sweet, caustic voice that highlighted his best work (About a Boy; In Good Company).
You’ll be talking about…: Tomlin, of course, but also the marquee-worthy support cast – Marcia Gay Harden, John Cho, Judy Greer, Don McManus, Nat Wolff, a terrific Sam Elliott and the late Elizabeth Pena.
RATING: 4/5

MY SKINNY SISTER (Dir: Sanna Lenken / Sweden, Germany, 95 mins / pictured, right)
Few films have tackled the early-teen sororal dynamic with the insight and empathy of first-time writer-director Sanna Lenken’s My Skinny Sister. Taken for granted by tuned-out parents (Annika Hallin, Henrik Norlen), youngest daughter Stella (the remarkable Rebecka Josephson) idolises her figure-skater big sis Katja (Amy Deasismont, an dead-ringer for Hailee Steinfeld); the family begins to implode when Stella, herself struggling with early body-issue concerns and the first flushes of romantic desire, discovers Katja is in the throes of bulimia. No surprise that Lenken was once a sufferer and has previously explored the impact of the disease in the short Eating Lunch; there is barely a false note in her slow-burn drama. Despite some unnecessary third act melodrama, My Skinny Sister is, in every other respect, a warm-hearted, quietly powerful work.
You’ll be talking about…: The bathroom scene, where Stella is filled with concern when she discovers Katja is purging, only to have Katja hold the crush Stella has for the ice-skating coach over her little sister in exchange for secrecy. Josephson and Deasismont (aka, Swedish pop starlet Amy Diamond) are both extraordinary in their bigscreen debuts.
RATING: 3.5/5  

TURBO KID (Dirs: Francois Simard, Anouk Whissell, Yoan-Karl Whissell / New Zealand, Canada, 95 mins / pictured, right)
Turbo Kid has been touted as a loving nod to those dusty VHS rentals that faded on the outer rims of rental shelves with names like 1990: The Bronx Warriors and Exterminators of The Year 3000. An outland BMX-er named ‘The Kid’ (an ok Munro Chambers) takes on the guise of his comicbook hero, Turbo Kid, to thwart the henchmen of bloodthirsty post-apocalyptic dictator, Zeus (Michael Ironside, enjoying himself). It should be a blast, but this Kiwi/Canuck hybrid oozes an icky hipster-cool smugness that impresses itself by ridiculing the genre’s shortcomings rather than celebrating the unshakeable integrity of the no-budget action epic. The gags feel like cheap shots, rarely earning a laugh. DOP Jean-Philippe Bernier’s widescreen frame and crisp imaging actually work against the comedic premise, as does the CGI-amped splatter-effects. EP Jason Eisener nailed the 80s send-up/homage with far greater skill as director of Hobo With a Shotgun (2011).
You’ll be talking about…: The wonderful Laurence Leboeuf as comic-relief robo-babe Apple. If the film finds its audience (that under 25, ‘the 80s were so daggy and funny’ crowd), expect Apple cosplayers to populate the Cons.
RATING: 2.5/5

Visit the Sydney Film Festival website for all ticketing and venue information.

SHERPA

Writer/director: Jennifer Peedom.

Rating: 4.5/5

For all the mountainous visual majesty her lens captures, it is director Jennifer Peedom’s soulful, stirring depiction of the human spirit that allows her feature, Sherpa, to truly soar.

Envisioned as an examination of the tensions that led to a highly publicised clash between European tourists and Sherpa guides in 2013, Peedom contextualises the inequalities suffered by the Sherpa workers with some deftly handled backstory involving the lopsided mistreatment of the most famous Sherpa of all time, Tenzing Norgay, after he guided Sir Edmund Hillary to the peak of Mt Everest in May 1953.

But the Australian director suddenly found her already daunting production in the midst of an event that, at the time, represented the largest singular instance of loss of life in Mt Everest history. On April 18 2014, a 14.5 tonnes sheet of ice dislodged from the wall of the treacherous Khumbu Icefall and a team of Sherpas, transporting camping and trekking equipment for international tourist operators, were crushed; 16 locals died in the disaster, with three bodies never recovered.

In chronicling the events with an as-it-unfolds immediacy, Peedom and her high-altitude co-director Renan Ozrturk afford their audience a first-hand visual account of unfettered human emotion at its most raw. The heartbreak that accompanies images of the deceased being helicoptered to base camp cannot be overstated, nor can Peedom’s deeply respectful depiction of the rescue and recovery efforts and, most importantly, the overwhelming grief that swept the region.

The central conflict remains constant – the global commercial interests invested in the Mt Everest tourism industry versus the relationship the indigenous population has with the mountain – but the stakes soar and the issues deepen in the wake of the tragedy. Certain to divide audience sympathies is trek operator Russell Brice, whose business depends on a trustful working relationship with his carriers but who finds himself facing agitated clients when militant Sherpas, tired of their cultural history and modern needs being disrespected by tourists and local government officials alike, want the climbing season abandoned.

The film’s true ‘star’ is experienced guide Phurba Tashi Sherpa, father of two and husband to a wife whose anxiety grows with every expedition. Having lived for generations in the shadow of his beloved Sagarmatha, Tashi shares a bond with the mountain that only locals can comprehend; it is this affinity with the landscape and its legends that places the softly-spoken Sherpa at the centre of the us-vs-them conflict, however reluctantly.

Peedom has a long history with Nepal and the Himalayan terrain; key production roles on such landmark small-screen achievements as Miracle on Everest (2008) and Everest: Beyond the Limit (2007) allowed her unprecedented access to the local people and their customs. This intimacy and shared understanding of the region imbues Sherpa with an immensely empathetic warmth. The access afforded her camera – flashpoint instances at the height of negotiations; achingly sweet moments inside Phurba Tashi’s family home – is a testament to a filmmaker of unquestionable integrity in the eyes of her subjects and whose subsequent vision is instinctive and heartfelt.

Donations to the Nepal Earthquake aid efforts can be made at via the following organisations:
RED CROSS (AUSTRALIA)
UNHCR
UNICEF

THE CRITIC'S CAPSULE: SYDNEY FILM FESTIVAL, VOLUME 1.

Each and every film scheduled into the 62^nd Sydney Film Festival deserves the standard 500+ word appraisal we usually publish here at SCREEN-SPACE. But, in an effort to offer as many opinions as possible while the festival is in full swing, we have introduced 'The Critic’s Capsule’ – short, sharp insight into as many of the Sydney screening highlights as we can muster. Three days into the 2015 event, here is our opening volley…. 

DRUNK STONED BRILLIANT DEAD: THE STORY OF THE NATIONAL LAMPOON (Dir: Douglas Tirola / USA, 93 mins / pictured, above)
No one influence has shaped the American comedic landscape in the last half century more than the satirical publication, National Lampoon. The lovechild of Harvard’s privileged intellectualism and the late 60’s counter-culture fearlessness, the magazine (and, subsequently, brand) became a multi-million dollar industry. Douglas Tirola’s account of the Lampoon heavyweights that cut a swathe through American society with their brand of barbed, hilarious satire is both a glorious celebration of the lunatic fringe (led by wild-child Doug Kenney) and a cautionary tale of the destructive impact of fame and fortune. Hilarious accounts of the surreal life led by those at the Lampoon ensure big laughs; not so expected, the tearful moments of memory and regret.
You’ll talking about…: The Murray brothers, Belushi, Ramis, Radner, Guest, Aykroyd, Chase and many more, all in their twenty-something pre-stardom prime.
RATING: 4/5 

MY LOVE DON’T CROSS THAT RIVER (Dir: Jin Mo-Young / South Korea, 86 mins / pictured, right)
Unforgettably poignant moments captured during the final years of a 70-year marriage imbue Jin Mo-Young’s achingly sweet, funny and insightful documentary (a theatrical blockbuster in its homeland). The story of Cho Byeong-man (98) and Kang Gye-young (89) captures the exquisite simplicity of their vast life together (they wed when she was 14), most notably their affinity with the surrounding riverside landscape and interactions with their extended family. The authenticity of some early scenes is questionable, but the inevitability of one’s mortality is dealt with in a deeply respectful, entirely truthful manner.
You’ll be talking about…: The final farewell.
RATING: 3.5/5 

BEING EVEL (Dir: Daniel Junge / USA, 100 mins / pictured, above)
A vivid, vibrant celebration of the famed motorcycle daredevil, Daniel Junge’s exhaustively researched profile credits the rough-hewn Montana native and the commercial phenomenon he spawned as the dawn of the modern extreme-sports industry. Despite teetering on the edge of gushy hagiography for much of the first half, the darker psychological shades of the man himself keep the film on track – unlike some of Evel’s (in)famous jumps, captured here in all their bone-crunching glory. Superbly cut by Davis Coombe under Junge’s assured guidance; no surprise that Johnny Knoxville and Jeff Tremaine, the ‘minds’ behind Jackass are on-board as producers.
You’ll be talking about…: Junge’s slow-motion analysis of the less-than-graceful landing that Knievel (barely) survived when he leapt the Caesar’s Palace fountain in Las Vegas.
RATING: 3.5/5

DEATHGASM (Dir: Jason Lei Howden / New Zealand, 85 mins / pictured, right)
For those convinced heavy metal music in all its forms is the tool of Satan…well, you’re right. Such is the premise of debutant Jason Lei Howden’s ridiculously splattery horror/comedy Deathgasm, named after the thrashing four-piece that conjures Hell’s minions from a garage in Greypoint. As deliriously OTT as the claret-soaked carnage is, the tropes of the no-holds-barred, dismemberment genre are beginning to fold in on themselves; one sex-toy inspired sequence aside, the influence of Jackson, Raimi and Gordon is all too evident. Where Howden earns his stripes is in his handling of the very funny cast of characters. A star is born in Milo Cawthorne as headbangin’ loner Brodie, who exhibits great comic timing and an every-dude charm, especially in his efforts to woo the wonderful Kimberley Crossman.
You’ll be talking about…: Death by dildo probably, although the first decapitation gag (that’s right, the first) got one of the film’s biggest laughs.
RATING: 3.5/5 

THE POSTMAN’S WHITE NIGHTS (Dir: Andrei Konchalovsky / Russia, 101 mins / pictured, right)
Journeyman Russian filmmaker Konchalovsky (Tango & Cash, 1989; Runaway Train, 1985; Dyadya Vanya, 1971) bounces back from the mega-budgeted 2010 flop The Nutcracker 3D with a pastoral character study set amidst a remote northern Russian village on the banks of Kenozero Lake. Binding the vodka-sodden community is sober mailman Aleksey Tryaptisyn, playing himself alongside a fellow non-pro cast in a narrative that captures a yearning to fulfil one’s dreams as traditional rural living clashes with encroaching and corrupt officialdom. The director’s understated naturalism may be too muted for some, but others will draw a heartbreaking universal relevance from the plight of Konchalovsky’s real-life protagonists.
You’ll be talking about…: The tale of the river witch Kikimora, related so vividly by Tryaptisin to his pre-teen travel buddy Timur (Timur Bondarenko) as to render the child hysterical with fear.
RATING: 3.5/5

Visit the Sydney Film Festival website for all ticket and venue information.

ENTOURAGE

Stars: Adrian Grenier, Jeremy Piven, Kevin Connolly, Kevin Dillon, Jerry Ferrara, Billy Bo Thornton, Haley Joel Osmant, Perrey Reeves, Emmanuelle Chriqui, Rex Lee, Debi Mazar, Ronda Rousey and Emily Ratajkowski.
Writer/Director: Doug Ellin.

Watch the trailer here.

Rating: 3/5

The Y-chromosome fever dream that is the world of Entourage heats up from frame 1 in series creator Doug Ellin’s bigscreen adaptation of his hit property.

A barely-clad Nina Agdal, the most current incarnation of supermodel hotness on the planet, gives a sly grin as her binoculars focus in on Turtle (Jerrry Ferrara), Drama (Kevin Dillon) and E (Kevin Connolly) speeding towards the multi-million dollar party-cruiser moored in the azure playground off Ibiza. The boat belongs to Vinnie (Adrian Grenier), who has bounced back from a fleeting flirtation with marriage by bedding Agdal.

The supermodel knows that, like all of us who have followed the lads through their LA adventures over eight HBO seasons, Vinnie is really only a complete man when conjoined with his ‘bros’. When the lads are unified, this long-in-development, short-on-narrative feature is at its best, too; like much of the west coast movie scene, it is high on boisterous personality and lavish adherence to base instincts.

But Ellin’s more expansive take on Hollywood life has not transitioned to the 2.35:1 scope seamlessly intact. The punchy energy and ironic verve that was the trademark of the 30-minute episodes is gone, replaced by some meagre plotting that sees the boys seeking the sweetness of romance and ushering them into the responsibilities of growing old.

Vinnie’s $100million directing debut, a wannabe-tentpole called Hyde has been shepherded through production by ex-agent Ari Gold (Jeremy Piven), who has graduated to studio head and rolled the dice on his old client’s vision of a blockbuster. None of this rings very true, which is at odds with the insider smarts that was one of the most endearing traits of the series. Needing fresh funds to finalise the film, Gold heads for Texas to woo financier Billy Bob Thornton, who puts his scumbag son Haley Joel Osmant in charge of the decision-making. Contrived machinations (mostly to do with the allure of it-girl Emily Ratajkowski) threaten Vinnie’s film and Ari’s job, as is to be expected.

As Vinnie’s business manager and first-time producer, Connolly’s E does very little of either, instead lumbered with a ‘babies vs boobs’ subplot that introduces some down-home moral goodness into the seething immorality of everyday A-list excess (perhaps to appeal to a broader movie-going base than the basic-cable followers of the series). Detractors who have wanted to nail Entourage for some borderline misogyny over the years get plenty of ammo in the form of two sexy starlets, who connive to frighten E into thinking he has fathered an unwanted child and caught an STD in the process.

Turtle romances cage-fighter Ronda Rousey, playing herself; Drama gets a few laughs doing what Drama does, struggling to build a career in the wake of his hotter, younger brother (as good as Dillon is, this should be the last time he plays an idealistic acting hopeful). Other series regulars (Emmanuelle Chriqui, Rex Lee, Perrey Reeves, Constance Zimmer, Debi Mazar, Rhys Coiro) are all shoe-horned in; celebrity cameos abound.

Just as Time Warner resurrected its other HBO cash cow, Sex and The City, so to it does with Entourage. Given the general mediocrity of both, their bigscreen re-emergence hardly seemed warranted; only time will tell if Entourage earns its existence as Sex... did. Marketers will reaffirm that this “is one for the fans,” and it certainly is warmly familiar (and, yes, this three-star review is unashamedly seen through the rose-coloured glasses of a fanatic). The brand will gather a second wind, DVD box-set sales will get a jolt, and Vinnie’s crew can now fade into the pop-culture ether.

One hopes they don’t make the same sequel-mistake as Carrie and the ‘girls’ made. The next real-world step for these ‘boys’ will be settling into the comforts of their wealthy west-coast lifestyles, firming up career opportunities and foregoing their wild ways in favour of maturity. If they don’t, it would be sad. And I wouldn’t want to watch it.

POLTERGEIST

Stars: Sam Rockwell, Rosemarie DeWitt, Jared Harris, Jane Adams, Kyle Catlett, Kennedi Clements and Saxon Sharbino.
Writer: David Lindsay-Abaire.
Director: Gil Kenan.

Watch the trailer here.

Rating: 2.5/5

If Gil Kenan’s remake of Tobe Hooper’s (or, if you believe the scuttlebutt, Steven Spielberg’s) 1982 spectral spectacular Poltergeist is remembered at all, it will be as further evidence of Hollywood’s disregard for the horror genre in its pandering to the PG-13 demographic.

Robbed of the upwardly mobile, early 80s spunk that imbued leads Craig T Nelson and the great Jobeth Williams with such warm personalities, whiny smart-alec Sam Rockwell and an anaemic Rosemarie DeWitt star as Eric and Amy Bowen, two career-less strugglers mired in an America of foreclosed suburban blocks. In 1982, The Freelings earned our affection with funny and familiar family moments that remain fan favourites (the burying of the dead bird; giving the pool guys the finger; the battle for remote control with the jerk-neighbour); in 2015, The Bowens are introduced in a static single shot, bundled together in their bland people mover and shrilly yelling over each other to be heard. In modern screen parlance, writer David Lindsay-Abaire’s lazy opening represents ‘establishing character.’

Those rich characterisations that ensured emotional investment in the plight of the all-American nuclear family are but one of the many assets exorcised in this shallow retelling, but it is arguably the most crucial omission. The narrative’s dramatic impetus has been taken away from the mother; the tormented focus that the grief of losing a daughter to supernatural forces and the desperate determination to get her back provided Williams with meaty maternal material. Alternatively, DeWitt is largely a nonchalant bystander, barely registering a furrowed brow as her youngest navigates ‘The Great Beyond’. Similarly, Rockwell’s father figure seems annoyed by the overall inconvenience of the spiritual invasion; any comparison to Nelson’s crumbling emotional wreck is really no comparison at all.

Otherworldly heroism falls to middle-child Griffin, played by an ok Kyle Catlett (moms can’t be heroes in 2015 franchise reboots); his role is essentially a live-action version of the animated tyke director Kenan conjured in 2006’s Monster House.  Teenage sister Kendra is played with an ultra-modern ironic detachment by Saxon Sharbino, who can’t be jolted into any kind of emotional life no matter how much the ethereal denizens of her home try; the abducted moppet made famous by the late Heather O’Rourke is ably realised by Kennedi Clements, easily the best of the ensemble. Jared Harris and Jane Adams are reduced to naff comic relief in roles that carried dramatic weight 33 years ago when played by Zelda Rubinstein and Beatrice Straight, respectively.

If the human elements are left wanting, there is some meagre joy to be had in the prerequisite frights. The most successfully rendered reworking of an original element is the clown that freaks out Griffin (although how it comes to be in his room at all represents an implausible disregard for new home owner due diligence); based on the high profile that the clown has in all the marketing material, the producers are aiming for the ‘creepy doll’ audience that PG-13 hits The Conjuring and Annabelle brought in. Also relatively effective are CGI-heavy re-imaginings of the iconic ‘Killer Tree’ sequence and the ‘Wardrobe to Hell’ portal to the homes’ heart of bi-location.

To list further failings in Kenan’s remake would begin to sound churlish – the financial hardship the Bowens find themselves in means no backyard pool sequences; no E-Buzz, the family dog whose animal instincts first sensed the true nature of the house; no discernible music score, unlike Jerry Goldsmith’s orchestral masterwork. Also, blaming the atmospheric ineffectiveness on the tinny digital sheen that has replaced the rich, deep shadows and vibrant colours provided by film stock is a moot point; film production is what it is in the modern industry.

Fact is, Poltergeist 2015 was not made to honour its source material. Nor will the PG-13 audience for which it was created be all that familiar with its origins (or, for that matter, what a poltergeist even is). It should be judged on its own terms; in that regard, it is a tepid, mid-range effort, lacking in logic and derailed by one-note characters servicing a narrowly focussed B-movie storyline. It’s just that little bit sadder that proof exists indicating it could have been so much more.

PIKU

Stars: Amitabh Bachchan, Deepika Padukone, Irrfan Khan, Balendra Singh and Moushumi Chatterjee.
Writer: Juhi Chaturvedi.
Director: Shoojit Sircar. 

Watch the trailer here.

Rating: 4/5

Bollywood’s biggest stars revel in life’s smallest moments in Piku, Shoojit Sircar’s sweetly insightful family ‘dramedy’/road movie. As the ailing patriarchal figure, the legendary Amitabh Bachchan brings both dramatic heft and lightness of touch to a showy role, but it is Deepika Padukone who emerges as the film’s heart and soul.

Bachchan plays proud Bengali-born 70-something widower Bashkor Banerjee, a cantankerous shut-in suffering from a severe bout of constipation. The passing of a stress relieving ‘motion’ has become the soul focus of his life, much to the chagrin of his daughter, Piku (Padukone). An architect on the verge of earning partnership status in a top firm, her life has become increasingly consumed by her father’s needs, both medicinal and psychological.

When the opportunity arises for the pair to travel cross-country from their Delhi base to the family home in Kolkata, they employ cab company owner Rana (a very fine Irrfan Khan) to drive them. The 1500 kilometre journey allows for many truths to be explored, the destination representing a spiritual home for both father and daughter. The frankness of Juhi Chaturvedi’s script and the skill with which she forms naturally free-flowing and over-lapping dialogues keeps the film buoyant and energised. The sparse use of lowbrow humour in a film that that explores potential cures for Bashkor’s condition ensures the three key cast members never stoop to puerile scatology.

Still exuding the towering, screen-consuming personality that embodied his iconic character Vijay in Yash Chopra’s 1975 classic Deewaar, a boisterous Bachchan fearlessly goes that extra yard in the name of both truth and laughter; he is a joy to watch. But Padukone, too often lumbered with the ‘pretty girl’ role in recent films, matches the great actor beat-for-beat in occasionally fiery dramatic moments. It seems entirely plausible that the pair have been living together for too long, and that the clashing stems from a very real fear that they will soon not be together anymore. Despite the drama feeling slightly over-extended by the middle of the third act, the tears shed and romantic developments feel very real.

With his fourth feature, Kolkata-born Sircar solidifies his reputation as a filmmaker with an assured touch across a variety of genres. After his 2005 debut Yahaan, a contemporary warzone romance, he enjoyed a critical and commercial hit with Vicky Donor, a smart farce that found favour with international audiences drawn to its ‘sperm-donor’ premise. In 2013, Sircar explored counter-espionage techniques and fervent nationalism in Madras Café, an ultra-realistic action thriller set against the Tamil Civil Wars of the 1980s.

Sircar enters a gentler realm with his narrative here, the likes of which is synonymous with auteur James L Brooks. The Oscar winner’s skill at scripting bittersweet, deeply human moments is honoured in the structure of Piku. It recalls both Terms of Endearment, in which a put-upon daughter (Debra Winger) struggled with an eccentric parent (Shirley Maclaine); and, As Good As It Gets, which posited a churlish curmudgeon (Jack Nicholson) in a car with mismatched travel buddies (Greg Kinnear, Helen Hunt).

Filled with top tech contributors, of particular note is the lensing of DOP Kamaljeet Negi (working with Sircar for the third time). The angles he achieves within the confines of the vehicle aid the character drama immeasurably; a sequence shot in the riverside town of Banaras, captured just after ‘the magic hour’ has passed and lamps are beginning to illuminate the waterfront, evokes a dreamlike, romantic ambience that is particularly beautiful.

INFINI

Stars: Daniel MacPherson, Grace Huang, Luke Hemsworth, Bren Foster, Luke Ford, Dwaine Stevenson, Louisa Mignone, Tess Haubrich and Kevin Copeland.
Writers: Shane Abbess and Brian Cachia.
Director: Shane Abbess.

Watch the trailer here.

Rating: 2.5/5

When a director draws upon so many genre reference points as Shane Abbess does in his coarse, shrill sci-fi shocker Infini, there needs to be somewhere in the mix a bolt of blazing originality that sets his work apart from its inspirations.

Set ostensibly on an ‘off-world mining colony’, Abbess’ story (from an idea hatched with his music composer, Brian Cachia) focuses on an elite military unite sent on a search-and-rescue mission when all contact is lost with a deep-space outpost. Title-cards spend unnecessary time explaining ‘slipstreaming’, the process of data-encrypting living tissue so that long-distance interstellar travel becomes possible. It is how tough-talking grunts of the future undertake deployment, foregoing hyper-sleep (and providing a meagre point of difference from James Cameron’s Aliens).

Finding a corpse-strewn maze of steely corridors and abandoned workstations (echoing John Carpenter’s The Thing, both narratively and visually), the unit stumble upon lone survivor Whit Carmichael (Oz TV staple Daniel MacPherson), only to realise that whatever caused the population to off themselves in horrible ways still infects the site. Systematically, each soldier descends into an infectious delirium that manifest in bouts of loud, rage-filled histrionics followed by gruesome expiration (in effect, Paul W.S. Anderson’s Event Horizon with a little Resident Evil flavour when required).

Abbess rocked the local film world in 2007 with his warrior-angel thriller, Gabriel. A lean genre work shot on a shoestring (nabbed by Sony Pictures for the world market), it was a vision that nodded a lot to such films as Gregory Widen’s Prophecy and Alex Proyos’ The Crow but brought with it a compelling style, cool leading man in the late Andy Whitfield and slick narrative that lifted it beyond its conventions.

His return to the local low-end budget/high-end production milieu he previously tapped so well is a frustrating disappointment. While his intention may have been to construct a psychological thriller that thematically employs the lonely, disassociated setting and his characters’ yearning for human connection, the overuse of long, talky scenes that call upon one-dimensional military stereotypes to wallow in pop-psych emoting never hits a convincing note. An ok MacPherson is drawn into a series of interminable yelling matches with his co-stars as they succumb to the airborne alien madness; one such encounter, with two-time AACTA Award winner Luke Ford no less, plays like an improv acting class exercise.

Script and storytelling shortcomings aside, it is the overarching familiarity of Abbess’ visual cues that derails his ambition. As our hero contemplates his lot in life while taking in the future world cityscape from his apartment balcony, the savvy sci-fi viewer will recall it is a near-exact rendering of the same scene from Len Wiseman’s recent Total Recall remake. The cooling vents and steam jets of the mining colony are pure Ridley Scott/James Cameron; the planetary surface and external structures of the mining outpost resoundingly echo LV426. So reminiscent of and reliant upon Aliens is Infini, the very definition of ‘homage’ is put to the test.

Some narrative freshness emerges in a third act that posits Infini as a type of ‘…Body Snatchers’ clone; the same developments, however, also recall (one assumes unintentionally) Ghostbusters 2. But, at an unforgivably lengthy 110 minutes, patience and tolerance for the director’s indulgences have worn thin. Abbess is clearly a technically gifted filmmaker, able to conjure impressive visuals, but Infini suggests the services of an experienced script editor and a purging of his DVD collection should be high priorities.