MOOMINVALLEY: SEASON 3, EPISODES 4, 8, 12

Voice Cast: Taron Edgerton, Rosamund Pike, Warwick Davis, Bel Powley, Matt Berry, Jack Rowan, Chance Perdomo, Edvin Endre and Jennifer Saunders.
Writers: Josie Day, Mark Huckerby, Nick Ostler, Paula Dinan; based on characters created by Tove Jansson.
Director: Darren Robbie.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

 Screening at the 2023 Children’s International Film Festival from May 27 in Sydney and Melbourne.

Finnish author Tove Jansson’s sweet and heartfelt Moomins family adventures have entranced European audiences since they were first published in 1945 in the picture book, ‘The Moomins and the Great Flood’. The fairy-tale existence that Jansson envisioned for her creations - a rustic, rural life in a wooded valley, surrounded by fantasy forest denizens and towering, frosted Alpine peaks - has reached iconic status in the Scandi states, and is increasingly adored abroad.

Having conquered family markets internationally over their eight delightful decades (including a 1974 opera, a 1990 animated series that sold to 60 countries, and theme parks in Finland and Japan), the latest incarnation of the Moomins adventures is Moominvalley, the 2019 animated series now in its third season. Three English-dubbed episodes will have their Australian Premiere at the 2023 Children’s International Film Festival, satiating the small but burgeoning Australian fanbase.     

The first of the three 22-minute original narratives is ‘Inventing Snork’, in which cheeky pre-teen Moomintroll (revoiced by Taron Edgerton) tries to help the socially-awkward Snork better understand the value of friendship through compassion. The thematic throughline is accepting people for who they are, a familiar humanistic beat in Moomins’ storytelling. Rounding out the series is ‘Moominmamma's Flying Dream’, a sweet story in which Moominmamma's love of hot air ballooning is rekindled by her son, only for everyone to reach the conclusion that the joys of family is life’s greatest adventure. 

The best of the trio is the middle episode, ‘Lonely Mountain’. Moomintroll cancels his hibernation to find his best friend Snufkin, who has ventured deep into the mysterious Lonely Mountains for some meditative solitude. Moomintroll misses his friend and acts on that self-focussed longing, not realising that Snufkin’s time away helps make him the special friend he is. The range of complex emotions explored in the scenes between Moomintroll and Snufkin is terrific character-driven animation; the grandeur of the region and the harsh realities of both the wintry outdoors and growing up are beautifully realised.

In the three episodes programmed for the festival, we get a good indication as to why the Moomins have remained one of Finland's most beloved exports and Tove Jansson’s exalted status as a teller of meaningful fantasy tales is etched deeply in European culture. The Moomins speak to the profound truths in family life, steeped in the beautiful colours of their homeland and the vivid world of the imagination.

CLAW

Stars: Chynna Walker, Richard Rennie, Mel Mede, Ken ’Gabby’ Mertz and Roger the Raptor.
Writer: Gerald Rascionato and Joel Hogan
Director: Gerald Rascionato

WORLD PREMIERE: Byron Bay Underground Film Festival, Saturday May 22 at 8.30pm. Tickets available at the official festival website.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

Eliciting the same thrills as the best moments from Jurassic Park and capturing the endearing buddy-comedy chemistry of cult fave Tremors, Claw proves a surefire crowd-pleaser. Clearly made with an un-ironic appreciation for the creature features of yesteryear (ie, the 90s) and a degree of skill that elevates the small scale production into something very big, director Gerald Rascionato’s monster-movie lark deserves global genre festival attention ahead of a long shelf life via whichever smart streamer acquires it.

Rascionato and co-writer Joel Hogan understand that the hard exposition work has already been done by Messrs Chrichton and Spielberg, so next-to-no time is spent on any of that ‘mosquito in amber’ malarkey (some razzle-dazzle gene-splicing graphics behind the opening credits suffices). Instead, their script invites the audience immediately into the friendship of Julia (Chynna Walker) and her bestie Kyle (Richard Rennie), deep in desert highway territory on their way to her big stand-up comedy break in LA. 

Circumstances dictate that they must spend the night with ghost town loner Ray (Mel Mede), an adventure that spins out of control when that most cinematic of prehistoric villains, the velociraptor (credited as ‘Roger the Raptor’), escapes from the confines of a nearby crazy scientist (Ken ’Gabby’ Mertz). The narrative proceeds to careen from one near-death escape to another, with just enough breathing space between the action to maintain audience empathy for the protagonists.

In a star-making turn, Walker’s small frame but strong physical presence is a major asset to the production; her confrontations with ‘Roger’ are legitimately thrilling. More importantly, the actress has a winning on-screen vibe with Rennie, who slots into the ‘damsel in distress’ role with endearing flair. Some of the script’s best moments involve the pair’s initial distrust of Mede’s Ray, recalling the ‘stereotype deconstruction’ genre comedy of 2010’s Tucker and Dale vs Evil, and are indicative of the smarter-than-usual investment that Hogan and Rascionato have written into their B-movie concept.

The director also takes cues from Spielberg’s other great monster movie Jaws, keeping his villain a growling presence largely in the shadows for much of the film’s first half. When unleashed, however, ‘Roger’ relentlessly pursues our heroes more in line with a Jason Vorhees/Michael Myers type. The effects team, supervised by industry veteran Steve Clarke, have crafted a top-tier CGI character that is seamlessly inserted into the action.

FRIENDS AND STRANGERS

Stars: Fergus Wilson, Emma Diaz, Victoria Maxwell, Amelia Conway and Greg Zimbulis.
Writer/Director: James Vaughan

Reviewed at International Film Festival Rotterdam 2021 (online).

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

Director James Vaughan achieves considerable success with his debut feature, the meandering, understated, ultimately rewarding Friends and Strangers, if only via the skill with which he imbues millennial mumblings with meaning and resonance. Vaughan has his able twenty-something cast communicate via the discordant verbal punctuations (‘like’, ‘um’, ‘D’you think...?’, ‘I don’t know’) synonymous with the generation, utilising the very un-cinematic cadence perhaps as best as can be.

Chief mumbler is Ray, played by Fergus Wilson in a characterisation that alternates between excruciating and endearing. Ray reconnects with Alice (Emma Diaz, nailing ‘fading tolerance’ in most of her scenes) upon her return to Sydney, ultimately inviting himself on a camping trip she has planned. These early scenes mostly consist of Ray not really listening to Alice’s attempts at conversation, with Alice gradually, if politely, distancing herself from him. Once at the campsite, she favours the insight of a pre-teen fellow camper Lauren (Poppy Jones; pictured below, left, with Diaz) over anything Ray offers.

The narrative rejoins Ray back in Sydney, moping about Alice’s rejection to the increasing frustration of his video production company partner Miles (David Gannon). They have a client meeting with waterfront McMansion owner David (a fun Greg Zimbulis), father of the bride (Amelia Conway), to prepare for the wedding shoot, as if a love-starved, self-obsessed minor-man could capture the essence of someone else’s most romantic day. Finally, Vaughan turns to an Allen-esque comical set-up, as Ray stoops to spying on Alice after a chance encounter.

The commentary he affords the solipsism of contemporary, well-to-do lives and their tendency towards introspection to the point of self-obsession has drawn comparisons to French New Wave great Éric Rohmer, particularly his late career work, A Summer’s Tale (1996). Rohmer would often focus on educated young adults and the world they populate, such as beaches, parks and lovely homes (so, Sydney). 

Vaughan has generational malaise and middle-class white privilege in his crosshairs. Friends and Strangers (the title itself carrying Bergman-esque tones) may present as a loosely-structured echo of its lead character’s directionless wanderings, but that would do a disservice to the debutant director’s skill as an observational storyteller and satirist. (The influence of European masters extends beyond the cinematic greats; a lovely shot of a middle harbour bathing spot clearly reflects George Seurat’s iconic painting, ‘A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte’).

Opening credits play over artwork from Sydney’s colonisation, preparing the audience for a story in which the setting is as important as the characters. Vaughan’s Sydney is not sweeping shots of foreshore icons (the city skyline is occasionally glimpsed as background detail), but instead the Sydney of affectation - cafes, hairdressers, manicured parks and affluent homes. Just as notable is DOP Dimitri Zaunders expert framing of the ‘ugly beauty’ of big-city life - stacks of pallets jammed under an overpass, the jarring juxtaposition of historical masonry and modern steel beams of which Sydneysiders have become inexplicably tolerant. 

We first meet Ray and Alice not on a park bench silhouetted against the Harbour Bridge, but leaning on a concrete barrier, struggling to connect over traffic noise and looking down upon (literally and figuratively) the boring minutiae of city life. It is an establishing sequence of a confident filmmaker, conveying thematic intent and character depth, and signaling Vaughan as a young director already in touch with his own film language.

AN UNQUIET GRAVE

Stars: Jacob A. Ware and Christine Nyland.
Writers: Christine Nyland and Terence Krey.
Director: Terence Krey.

WORLD PREMIERE: Sunday October 11 at NIGHTSTREAM Virtual Film Festival, U.S.A.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★ 

A sly, slow-burn two-hander exhibiting a genre heritage best described as ‘supernatural-noir’, An Unquiet Grave tightens the narrative screws with a mix of psychological thrills, grief-infused drama and OMG horror. Kept real by grounded depictions of desperation, sorrow and fear by two terrific lead performances, director Terence Krey’s high-end low-budgeter builds empathy and understanding for its protagonists before getting down and dirty in a pulse-quickening third act.

An established and respected ensemble player (notably in TV series like Boardwalk Empire and Graves), Jacob A. Ware takes full advantage of leading man status as ‘Jamie’, fleshing out the nuanced psychosis impacting a man still struggling with the death of his wife, Julie. A year on, he has taken to driving in the dark of night with Julie’s sister, Ava (Christine Nyland, who co-scripted), to the site where Julie died. Their shared hope is that Julie may not have lived her final days if what Jamie has learned is true.

Along the way, interaction between the pair waivers from warm and understanding to edgy and devious. Nyland and Krey’s script is a work of considerable skill, with each line playing a carefully constructed role in complicating character traits and strengthening the conceit. When the setting shifts from the front seat of the car to a cabin in the woods and the narrative spins from sideway glances and ambiguous wordplay to shovels and shallow graves, the transition is seamless. 

If, by the hour mark, you are wondering why The Unquiet Grave is bowing at the Nightstream horror fest, one especially challenging sequence will silence your concerns. While certainly a great visceral horror sequence, the reveal also reinforces the notion that the true horror in the story of these lost souls stems from their broken hearts.  

Krey, Nyland and Ware stay focussed on character and mood over genre tropes and histrionics, aided immeasurably by the artful eye of DOP Daniel Fox, who works wonders with a lot of single-source light/night-time location work. An Unquiet Grave is an assured genre exercise in the corrosive nature of profound sadness and how it can dissolve the moral core of good people.

GRIZZLY 2: REVENGE

Stars: Steve Inwood, Deborah Raffin, John Rhys-Davies, Deborah Foreman, Louise Fletcher, Dick Anthony Williams, Charlie Sheen, Timothy Spall, Laura Dern and George Clooney.
Writers: Ross Massbaum, Joan McCall and David Sheldon.
Director: André Szöts

Reviewed online via Monmouth Film Festival, Sunday August 16.

Rating: ★ ½

...or ★ ★ ★ ★ ★, depending on what you’re expecting when you decide to take on André Szöts sole directorial effort, Grizzly 2: Revenge. Smashed together by determined producer Suzanne C. Nagy from footage shot in 1982, this belated sequel to the ridiculous (and ridiculously successful) 1976 Jaws rip-off Grizzly is barely a film; truncated scenes are poorly dubbed and edited erratically, to vainly progress a threadbare narrative that never makes sense. But in the annals of ‘All-time Great Bad Movies’, where earnest acting in the service of unspeakable dialogue is prized, Grizzly 2: Revenge gains immediate respect.

“These kids never stood a chance” - Owens; “Poor dumb kids.” - Sheriff Nick Hollister (pictured, above; Steve Inwood and Deborah Raffin)   

Of course, the only reason to talk about this Frankenstein-of-a-movie is because it has existed in a rarified air of mystery amongst film nerds since production ground to a halt 46 years ago in Hungary. Nagy and the late Szöts (whose other notable credit was as co-writer of David Hamilton’s soft-focus arty 1979 skin-flick, Laura) had blown a huge chunk of their budget shooting a massive rock concert, the staging of which provides the background setting and an unnecessarily large percentage of screen time in the finished film. (Pictured, below; Laura Dern, as Tina, and George Clooney, as Ron)

“You got the Devil Bear!” - Bouchard, Grizzly tracker

No money was left to fix the troublesome animatronic bear nor, ultimately, complete the film; in one of the many wild stories associated with the shoot, it is alleged producer Joseph Proctor absconded with $2million from the budget. It would not be until 2007 that rumours began circulating that a 96 minute ‘workprint’ existed (the version reviewed here peaked at 78). In 2011, journalist Scott Weinberg wrote a piece for Screen Anarchy in which he recounts his experience watching what he calls one of his “Genre Geek Holy Grails”. Nagy decided 2018 was the right time to remaster the surviving footage and hack together the man-vs-nature sequel absolutely nobody wanted.

“Getting sour by the hour. Excuse me…” - Toto Coelo, all-girl band (Lyrics)

Grizzly 2: Revenge is set in motion when a group of hunters shoot two bear cubs and wound the matriarch; all this footage is video stock, not shot in ‘83 but sourced to give the narrative a kickstart. Jump to three young twenty-somethings, played by hungry-for-work young actors George Clooney, Laura Dern and Charlie Sheen (pictured, above), hiking the woods on their way to the outdoor concert, only to be offed by said grizzly (or a handheld cameraman, if the sequence is to be taken literally, as we never see the bear). One of the few joys on offer in Grizzly 2 is future-star spotting; sharp eyes will spot Game of Thrones’ Ian McNiece and (are you sitting down?) British acting great Timothy Spall.

“Maggie Sue!” - Drunk men around a campfire, while pinching each other’s bottoms (Lyrics).

The film settles into its predisposed ‘Jaws rip-off’ mode from then on, with Louise Fletcher’s hard-nosed corporate type mimicking Murray Hamilton’s ruthless mayor; instead of keeping the beaches open for summer, she demands the rock concert go ahead, despite there being a teen-eating beast on the loose. Out-of-towner sheriff Nick Hollister (Steve Inwood, acting from his moussed hair down,in the Roy Scheider part) and Bear Management expert Samantha Owens (Deborah Raffin, going full Dreyfuss in her defense of the bear) are forced to call on legendary bear-tracker and Quint archetype, Bouchard (the always-game John Rhys-Davies; pictured, above) whose idiosyncrasies, and there are many, include speaking of himself in the third-person.

“You haven’t seen what Bouchard has seen!” - Bouchard.

As they fight the occasionally-glimpsed killer bear day and night (often within the same scene), the film cuts back and forth to the concert, which is sometimes in full flight and sometimes still being readied (let’s assume the first department to go when cash got tight was continuity). Future ‘Valley Girl’ Deborah Foreman (pictured, below), playing the daughter of Sheriff Hollister, gets a job at the event and falls for a George Michael-type synth-pop star, complete with ultra-tight short-shorts in which he both performs and jogs (watched, but not attacked, by the bear, which seems odd in hindsight).

“This grizzly is huge, obviously powerful and probably enraged.”
- Samantha Owens, Bear Management Expert.

In true schlock-movie style, there are miraculously bad decisions made along the way that translate to priceless cinema. Personal favourite amongst them is actor Jack Starret (who played mean-spirited Deputy Galt opposite Sylvester Stallone in First Blood before he made this) calculates the financial benefits of double-crossing his mates while holding a rabbit, its expression at the absurdity of what’s happening the best animal acting in the film. That honour should have gone to the titular Ursus horribilis, but she gets no respect from the surviving footage. The denouement (more precisely recalling Jaws 2 than 1) is the final slap in the face for the anti-heroine, who makes no real impact on the concertgoers (imagine the carnage had she rampaged?!) and is reduced to the butt of a stupid final-frame joke.

Bound for cultdom, Grizzly 2: Revenge (also called Grizzly II: The Predator and Grizzly II: The Concert over the years) is the kind of bad film celebrated just for its very being, and one can’t begrudge the old girl that honour.

STAY OUT STAY ALIVE

Stars: Brandon Wardle, Brie Mattson, Sage Mears, William Romano-Pugh, Christina July Kim, David Fine and Barbara Crampton.
Writer/Director: Dean Yurke.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

Hoary old horror movie tropes still have a lot of life left in them if Dean Yurke’s Stay Out Stay Alive is any indication. The debutant director rakes over such well-trodden ground as Native American curses, creepy old mines and college kids who should no better than going bush, yet within those familiar parameters he delivers a convincingly scary spin on just how ugly human nature can be when tempted by greed and twisted by paranoia.

Like a million other films in the history of horror cinema, Yurke introduces his protagonists packed into a minivan, riffing on the pros and cons of camping deep in the woods. Gregarious blonde Bridget (Brie Mattson) is all giggly and flirty with her jock bf, Reese (Brandon Wardle); studious Amy (Christina July Kim) is focussed on her PhD paper, barely registering her nerdy guy Kyle (William Romano-Pugh); and, making up the numbers, just-dumped Donna (Sage Mears), who feels her solitary status so much it makes her wander into the night as her matched-up friends party by the campfire.

When Donna falls into an abandoned mine, her attempted rescue leads to the matter-of-fact discovery of a gold seam. No one considers the ease of its uncovering particularly strange, until clues point to a) the mass death of past visitors to the pit and b) a curse placed upon the woods by a Native American Chief, whose ghostly tribesman may still haunt the region (Yurke based it upon a legend stemming from the Mariposa Indian War of 1851, during which the son of a tribal elder was killed and the region was believed placed under a vengeful curse).

The production’s decision to cast actors slightly older than your average cabin-in-the-woods horror kids works in favour of the deeper themes at play and serves to elevate the psychological drama of Yurke’s narrative. Relationship dynamics, patriarchal hierarchy and middle-class entitlement all surface as rapidly as the storm waters that threaten the valley, each bringing a heightened and masterfully sustained tension between the characters. Yurke bounces jauntily through the prerequisite first act genre beats (phones don’t work, check; sexy tent action, check; red herring scares, check) before settling comfortably into the meat of his drama.

The pic’s supernatural visitations are superbly creepy; one sequence late in Act III, in which one character is confronted by spirit animal manifestations of the murdered Natives, is particularly chilling. Bringing legitimate horror movie cred is an extended cameo by the great Barbara Crampton (Re-Animator, 1985; From Beyond, 1986), whose off-kilter ‘Ranger Susanna’ represents another memorable turn in her indie horror-led career resurgence (You’re Next, 2011; Lords of Salem, 2012; We Are Still Here, 2015; Beyond the Gates, 2016; Reborn, 2018).

Despite its mid-budget pedigree and occasionally underground setting, it should be no surprise that Yurke’s debut looks so damn good. With 25 years behind him as one of Hollywood’s most respected digital artists and long ties to employer Industrial Light & Magic (who facilitated post work on the film), Yurke delivers a thrilling, visually engaging close-quarters shocker. Hard to believe with his CV he’d need to impress with an ambitious, accomplished calling-card work, but he has; 2½ decades into a distinguished b.t.s. career, Dean Yurke the director has arrived.

Stay Out Stay Alive - Official Trailer from Dean Yurke on Vimeo.

  

LITIGANTE (THE DEFENDANT)

Stars: Carolina Sanín, Leticia Gómez, Antonio Martínez, Vladimir Durán and Alejandra Sarria.
Writers: Franco Lolli, Marie Amachoukeli and Virginie Legeay.
Director: Franco Lolli.

OPENING NIGHT: 58^th Semaine de la Critique, Festival de Cannes 2019.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

The emotional extremes we bear witness to in the face of impending mortality and the generational flow of familial love provide the existential framework for director Franco Lolli’s elegant, often profound and deeply resonant sophomore feature, Litigante (The Defendant). Having travelled to Cannes in 2014 with his debut Gente de bien, the Colombian director’s return to the Semaine de la Critique is an understated triumph.

Fronted by two superb actresses crafting vivid portrayals of old and new matriarchy, Lolli constructs a mother/daughter dynamic not dissimilar to that utilised by James L. Brooks for his Oscar-winner Terms of Endearment (1983). Unlike that relatively upbeat slice of well-to-do white American melodrama, however, Litigante presents a middle-class Colombian family in a downward spiral of tension, grief, black humour and barely restrained conflict. This is a home that runs deep with resentment and unfulfilled expectations, despite maintaining a façade of tolerant warmth and stable intellectualism.

With co-scripters Marie Amachoukeli and Virginie Legeay, Lolli provides layers of rich humanity for his key protagonist, 40-ish lawyer and single mother Silvia (Carolina Sanín); introduced as a passive observer, she sits by her mother Leticia (Leticia Gómez) as the elderly woman reacts with defiance to the news that the cancer that has been in remission for a year has returned. Refusing an extended hospital stay and invasive treatment, Leticia decides to see out her final days in the family home, not entirely aware of the burden it will place on her family (which has been patriarch-free for many years).

As Bogota’s Deputy Legal Secretary of Public Works, Silvia is implicated in corruption charges brought against her boss – another man absent for most of the film (as are several influential males in this female-centric story). Silvia must fend for herself in a heated radio interview conducted by journalist Abel (Vladimir Durán). An unlikely romance develops, but theirs is a love destined for difficulty as the obstinate and ailing Leticia weighs in on his suitability as Silvia’s prospective partner.

Carolina Sanín is wholly wonderful as Silvia, every ounce of pain she withholds and frustration she endures etched on the lines that seem to take shape on her face over the course of the narrative. As the title suggests, she is under constant scrutiny, forced to defend herself from a judicial system out to prosecute her office or a mother questioning her entirely reasonable life choices. The personification of a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown, Sanín is a true contemporary female heroine; stoic and determined to face her hardships, focused on others above herself and unwavering in her commitment to family, regardless of how challenging and tenuous that link may sometimes appear to be.   

All of life’s distractions, and the narrative’s subplots, fade away as Leticia’s health deteriorates; Silvia, her young son Antonio (Antonio Martínez, a natural screen performer) and 20-something sister ‘Majo’ (Alejandra Sarria) experience firsthand the daily pain and dwindling life energy of their once vibrant mother. So to does the audience, in scenes of aching tenderness and sharply focused emotionality; the astonishingly transformative performance by Leticia Gómez is even more remarkable given that the actress is the real-life mother of the director as well as the inspiration for the story, having been cared for by her son while recovering from a cancer bout.

The final frames of Franco Lolli’s Litigante speak to the cyclical nature of the parental bond, acknowledging that Silvia knows she is next in line for a similar decline and that Antonio, blissfully unaware as he presently is, will step into the carer’s role. It is a beautiful, universal, heartbreaking observation from a filmmaker fully invested in his story and characters.

UNDER THE COVER OF CLOUD

Stars: Ted Wilson, Colleen Wilson, Louis Modeste-Leroy, Jessie Wilson and David Boon.
Writer/Director: Ted Wilson.

Screening at the 2019 Screenwave International Film Festival, January 10-25.

Rating: ★★★½

A bighearted ode to the often-satirised middle-class white suburban upbringing, multi-hyphenate Ted Wilson has crafted a warm, winning low-key gem of a movie in Under the Cover of Cloud. A largely-improvised drama about a writer’s struggle to find inspiration, starring the director’s family and shot verite-style in the suburbs of Tasmania, this meandering yet meaningful take on the ties that bind will reward those seeking a different sort of cinema experience.   

Physically recalling the Matt Day/John Polson type of understated leading man, Wilson plays a journo suddenly without a steady paycheck, facing what he senses is a turning point in his professional development. When that proves all too much for him to deal with (by mid-opening credits), he heads south deciding to write a book about his home state’s best Test cricket batsmen (perhaps a sly joke for cricket lovers, as there haven’t been too many top order players from The Apple Isle).

In a manner that recalls the free-form storytelling styles of Henry Jaglom and John Cassavettes, Wilson re-engages with his mum, siblings and their spouses, niece and nephew toddlers, in scene after scene that seem to be largely about family matters, good memories and happy times. Frankly, a couple of crying 4 year-olds aside, every one seems to be pretty happy in Under the Cover of Cloud (although the title, which certainly corresponds with Tassie’s chilly grey pallor, might also symbolise Wilson’s depressed mood).

Neither Wilson nor his narrative seem to be particularly interested in the book project; he asks every one he knows if they can connect him with Tassie cricketing icon David Boon, which sums up the plot. At one point, the dishevelled author-to-be (who seems to have only bought the clothes he travelled in) sits down to start work, until distracted by chickens. Wilson’s film is not about writer's block or the struggle to create, but about shared moments with loved ones that coalesce as a portrait of a man's formative years. He picks lemons with his mother, plays board games with his sister, digs in the sand with his nephews; these are the daily events that refocus a soul chewed up and spat back from the mainland.

Detractors will say the film resembles an essay on entitlement; Wilson constantly seeks reassurance and aid from his family, who also offer free board (despite his complaints about a cold room) and plenty of meals, while gracing everyone around him with observations on their lives. That he emerges as an empathic and relatable leading character (and man) is arguably one of the film’s more remarkable achievements.

The end justifies the means in Under the Cover of Cloud. There is too much sincerity, charm and insight in Wilson’s family dynamic for cynicism to derail his film. A final frame dedication, which crystallizes the writer/director’s motivation, is a heart-tugger; it provides an added dimension of bittersweet melancholy that reveals what an extraordinary collection of ordinary people The Wilson clan truly are.

NIGHTMARE CINEMA

Stars: Mickey Rourke, Sarah Elizabeth Withers, Faly Rakotohavana, Maurice Benard, Elizabeth Reaser, Zarah Mahler, Mark Grossman, Eric Nelsen, Richard Chamberlain, Adam Godley and Annabeth Gish.
Writers: Mick Garris, Alejandro Brugues, Richard Christian Matheson, Sandra Becerril, David Slade and Lawrence C. Connolly.
Directors: Mick Garris, Alejandro Brugués, Joe Dante, Ryûhei Kitamura and David Slade.

Screening at Monster Fest VII on Friday November 23 at Cinema Nova, Carlton.

Rating: ★★★★

The five-part anthology Nightmare Cinema continues co-producer Mick Garris’ dark obsession with short-form film narrative, the kind that he ushered to cult status as the driving force behind the TV series Masters of Horror. Rife with a degree of references, homages and nods that only a super-fan will fully appreciate, Garris has corralled a rogue’s gallery of international horror director heavyweights, resulting in a stylistically diverse creep show but one that sustains the shared goal of chills, thrills and giggles.

The deceptively simple premise features five would-be protagonists who stumble/are drawn into an empty picture palace, where visions of their own demise unfold before them based upon horror sub-genres. Argentinian filmmaker Alejandro Brugués (Juan of The Dead, 2011; ABCs of Death 2, 2014) starts the party with ‘The Thing in The Woods’, hurling young actress Sarah Elizabeth Withers into her own Friday the 13^th–inspired battle for survival. Costumed to recall franchise favourite Kirsten Baker and facing off against a high-concept villain called ‘The Welder’ (Eric Nelsen), Withers (pictured, below) proves a good sport when the going gets gruesome, her director changing tact at the midway point from slasher tropes to something else entirely.

Brugues’ segment is a loving nod to 80s VHS nasties and could just as satisfyingly been conjured from the mind of longtime Garris cohort, Joe Dante. The beloved director of The Howling (1981), Gremlins (1984) and Innerspace (1987) instead opts for a horror hospital riff called ‘Mirari’, in which a scarred woman (Zarah Mahler) reluctantly appeases the wishes of her handsome fiancé (Mark Grossman) and undergoes reconstructive work by the hands of Richard Chamberlain’s too-charming plastic surgeon. Dante indulges in some of the film’s most icky practical effects work while displaying his skill with the short-story format; Mirari recalls the classic Twilight Zone episode ‘Eye of he Beholder’, reigniting the debate as to whether Dante or Dr George Miller delivered the very best bits of Twilight Zone The Movie (1983).

It is following Dante’s segment that we are introduced to name player Mickey Rourke as The Projectionist, a Mephistophelian figure who oversees the unspooling of each film from his darkened booth and wanders the aisles of the cinema dispensing enigmatic menace. Rourke doesn’t have a lot to work with, unfortunately; he is no Cryptkeeper, guiding the audience on their fearful journey, or voice of subtext wisdom like Rod Serling. He largely lurks, albeit with Rourke’s still potent onscreen presence.

Nightmare Cinema settles into its truly horrifying groove with segments three and four, the most fearlessly ambitious of the compendium. In ‘Mashit’, Japanese director Ryûhei Kitamura (Versus, 2000; Azumi, 2003; The Midnight Meat Train, 2008) unleashes the titular demon (pictured, top) on a morally corrupt Catholic school. The insidious Father Benedict (Maurice Bernard) and the nun-led-astray Sister Patricia (Mariela Garriga) are no match for a dorm of possessed children led by a horned, malformed deity from Hell or a director who can deftly deliver a jump-cut scare.

Hollywood’s most under-valued horror director, David Slade (Hard Candy, 2005; 30 Days of Night, 2007) provides the psychologically troubling vision, ‘This Way to Egress’. Shot in richly textured black-&-white, it stars Elizabeth Reaser (pictured, above; currently seen in the hit Netflix show, The Haunting of Hill House) as a mother of two brattish boys slowly losing her mind in the waiting room of her ‘specialist’, Dr Salvador (Adam Goodley). As time passes, the pristine office surrounds become overwhelmed by a dark filth; the faces of those that she passes in the halls grow increasingly deformed. Slades’ film is a masterful take on mental health, depression, social disconnection; while it foregoes the visceral horror of the film to this point, it is a warped walk in a convincingly disturbing, Cronenberg-esque realm.

Finally, Garris himself steps into the director’s chair for ‘Death’, in which musical prodigy Riley (Faly Rakotohavana) starts to see dead people as he recovers in (another) creepy hospital ICU after a carjacking that claimed his parents. Hunted by the murderer (Orson Chaplin) and haunted by his mother (Annabeth Gish), Riley’s plight in the hands of Rakotohavana proves not only thoroughly creepy but also surprisingly moving; Garris nods to The Sixth Sense perhaps once too often, but does so with heart and conviction.

The all-encompassing title implies a genre of its own, so it is fitting that so much of Nightmare Cinema draws from then reinterprets the horror visions of filmmakers that have gone before, delivered by Garris and his peers with a true understanding of a horror fan’s fixation.

LETO (SUMMER)

Stars: Teo Yoo, Irina Starshenbaum, Roma Zver, Filipp Avdeev, Alexandr Gorchilin, Alexander Kuznetsov, Nikita Efremov, Julia Aug, Elena Koreneva, Lia Akhedzhakova, Anton Adasinskyi and Vasiliy Mikhailov.
Writers: Kirill Serebrennikov, Michael Idov and Lily Idova.
Director: Kirill Serebrennikov

Reviewed at the 2018 Russian Resurrection Film Festival, Sydney; named the festival’s Best New Russian Film, 2018.

Rating: ★★★★★ 

Evoking memories of a pre-Perestroika Russia where the youthful masses were unified and energised in their defiance of authority by the driving beats of a post-punk early-80s Leningrad music scene, Kirill Serebrennikov’s Leto is a free-wheeling, free-spirited, bittersweet remembrance of the people and passion that defined the decade for many young Soviets.

A pure celebration of driven talent and the transformative power of music, the latest from the provocative director of The Student (2016) proves a stirring ode to the subversive. Whether deconstructing the staid conventions of the ‘musical biopic’ or symbolically reacting against the Kremlin’s suppression of socially-conscious art, Serebrennikov and co-writers Michael Idov and Lily Idova have crafted a thrilling, relevant and deeply moving work despite, or perhaps because of, a narrow narrative focus.

The film follows three key figures in the thriving if heavily policed Leningrad music scene – the lead singer of hard-edged rock band Zoopark, Mike Naumenko (real-life rocker Roma Zver); his wife and muse, Natalya (the wonderful Irina Starshenbaum); and, charismatic singer-songwriter Viktor Tsoï (the striking German-born, Korean-based Teo Yoo). All became iconic figures in Russian pop culture - Tsoï would front the group Kino and pen the battle cry of the Perestroika movement,  ‘Khochu peremen (I Want Change)’; Serebrennikov’s film, named after Zoopark’s biggest hit, is loosely based upon Natalya’s best-selling memoir.

Their interactions don’t amount to searing drama. Mike recognizes Viktor’s talent and wants to share in his growth as a musician; Natalya, like anyone in Viktor’s realm, finds herself attracted to him; Mike sees out his wife’s attraction to Viktor, openly encouraging her to not deny natural feelings. The men write songs; Natalya balances a rock-wife lifestyle with a mother’s responsibilities; the trio, with some eccentric band mates in tow and the authorities watching their every move, strive to create, be seen, build a life together.

However, framed within DOP Vladislav Opelyants’ gorgeous monochromatic widescreen lens and exuding their enigmatic ‘rock star’ charisma in all its compelling glory, the audience investment in the intertwining lives and burgeoning creativity of the trio is profound. Most affecting is Starshenbaum as Natalya; the actress (bearing a remarkable resemblance to American star Mary Elizabeth Winstead) conveys both a strength and sensitivity that makes her central role as an inspiration for those around her entirely believable. Natalya’s own longing and determined path, when it emerges from beneath the self-absorbed creative destinies of the men in her life, proves deeply moving.

Dramatic impetus aside, the film is at its most engaging when it embraces its musical influences (notably Bowie, Blondie, T-Rex, though many are referenced). Defining songs of the period are reworked as musical numbers, at the indulgence of the characters and often sung by random strangers who drift in, then out of frame. Talking Heads’ ‘Psycho Killer’ becomes a fierce, fantastic number set on a train carriage; Iggy Pop’s ‘The Passenger’ is belted out by bus commuters as Viktor and Natalya take in the city. A great sequence, set to Mott the Hoople’s All the Young Dudes, sees Michael envision classic album covers of the day brought to life by his friends and family in splashes of Super-8 colour footage.

There is a sprawling sense of time and place to Leto, which blows out the running to over two hours, yet there is not a frame of the film one would want to see excised. The anti-establishment themes and love-conquers-all story beats inherent to the rock/pop biopic genre have been previously explored in Oliver Stone’s The Doors (1991), Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous (2000) and Anton Corbijn’s Control (2007), but rarely with such heartfelt melancholy, pained romanticism and evocative rendering of time and place.

The sly subversion that gives the film its bite has come at a price; Kirill Serebrennikov has been under house arrest since August 2017 for his perceived anti-Putin stance (the director could not attend the film’s Cannes premiere in May). While the authorities endeavor to stifle his political voice, his art and skill as a great movie storyteller speaks very loudly on his behalf.