DREAMS OF PAPER & INK

Stars: Tamara Lee Bailey, William Servinis, Neal Bosanquet, Marlene Magee, Emily Rok, Christopher Jordan, Sorcha Johnson and Anisa Mahama.
Writer/director: Glenn Triggs

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

An ageing author undertakes a melancholy journey through his earliest memories of love in Dreams of Paper & Ink, the latest work of independent sector inspiration from writer-director Glenn Triggs. A dialogue-free recounting of the first pangs of romance as recalled through the lens of age and wisdom, Triggs has crafted a film that draws upon his audience’s own experiences as much as it does his lead characters. Minus the spoken word, Dreams of Paper & Ink evokes the universal joys and pains of that first heartfelt connection.

The latest book from author Wade Gibson (Neal Bosanquet) is a fanciful medieval adventure that stumbles upon release, so much so that his publisher asks for something more personal - an account of that first time that love took hold of his heart. The assignment sends the author into a melancholy tailspin, as he commits to truthfully recalling how his younger self (William Servinis) fell for and wooed the free-spirited Kina (Tamara Lee Bailey). 

Triggs stages the older Wade’s writing process by placing the author and his typewriter in the very moment with his recollections. This creates a kind of ‘greek chorus’ effect, providing the audience with an emotional barometer, a gauge of the old man’s reactions to his own immaturity and romantic missteps. Initially, there is an overarching “Youth is wasted on the young” theme to Wade’s observations, but soon he comes to realise that it was his selfish flaws that extinguished in Kina the very essence that drew him to her.

The three leads are ideally cast, none more so than Bailey as Kina. Her joyous first onscreen impression, longings for deeper connection with young Wade and heartbreaking recognition that the magic has dissolved are conveyed with profundity by the young actress, who shares a convincing chemistry, in times both good and bad, with an equally terrific Servinis. As the older Wade, Bosanquet is wonderful in projecting the sense of personal revelation his journey comes to represent. As Wade’s wife, Marlene Magee is lovely as the woman that has come to represent love as a truly shared journey.    

‘Dialogue-free’ does not mean wordless. The lyrics of evocative songs and the prose of notes written between lovers take on added emphasis, both narratively and emotionally. Music and image convey both the thrall of that initial connection and the chilliness of love’s final hours. Triggs sets himself a true storytelling challenge, and pulls it off with a skill he’s honed in his past genre works (Cinemaphobia, 2009; 41, 2012; Apocalyptic, 2014; The Comet Kids, 2016). His first ‘serious drama’, Dreams of Paper and Ink confirms his status as one of the most interesting and accomplished independent voices in Australian film.

INFRARED

Stars: Greg Sestero, Jesse Janzen, Leah Finity, Ariel Ryan, Samantha Laurenti, Nicole Berry, Ian Hopps, Randy Nundlall Jr., Austin Blank, Robert Livings and Romulo Reyes.
Writers/directors: Robert Livings and Randy Nundlall Jr.

Rating: ★ ★ ★

Don’t let the internet naysayers convince any prospective viewer that the found-footage sub-genre has breathed its last breath. Of course it’s not soaring as it did in those halcyon years post-Blair Witch Project, but nor is it the minefield of mediocrity and derivation that keyboard commentators would have you believe. In the second half of 2021, Shudder’s anthology pic V/H/S 94, Banjong Pisanthanakun’s The Medium, William Eubank’s Paranormal Activity: Next of Kin and the French thriller The Deep House, from Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury, displayed technical invention and narrative beats that made the shaky-cam cliches feel fresh, all over again.

Add to the list of better-than-expected first-person shockers Infrared, a blackly-funny, legitimately creepy riff on paranormal investigation cable shows. Some may argue that the night-vision fakery and “Did you hear that?” silliness that is de rigueur for the format makes them low-hanging fruit for satire, but co-directors Randy Nundlall Jr and Perth-born expat Robert Livings smartly conjure frights and fun with this low-budget, hi-energy effort.

Jesse Janzen plays the charismatic ghostbuster Wes, whom we first meet expunging an evil spirit from a possessed young woman. He is the host of ‘Infrared’, a showcase for his talents that he hopes will make him a reality-TV personality. His sister Izzy (Leah Finity) shares the same spiritual connectivity but prefers a quieter life, servicing those who think their homes have unwanted ghostly presences. But Wes and Izzy don’t get along, falling out over “an exorcism incident’ several years prior.

Izzy and Wes are brought back together by ‘Infrared’ producer Randy (co-director Nundlall) when the opportunity to explore the supposedly haunted Lincoln School building is presented to them by Geoff, aka “The Owner’s Manual”, played with a typically focus-pulling energy by cult figure Greg Sestero. Destined to be forever known as ‘Mark’ in Tommy Wiseau’s The Room, Sestero is an always engaging presence and is called upon to do some feverish improv and ‘big character’ work as he guides the crew around the shadowy halls and abandoned classrooms.

There are hints that the building is more than it seems (Geoff continually refers to it as ‘her’ and ‘she’) and soon, even as they start to repair their fractious relationship, Izzy and Wes find themselves at its mercy. Janzen and Finity have great screen chemistry, their sibling energy convincing and crucial to making some familiar runnin’-&-screamin’ in the final act as involving as it plays out. 

In the hands of its young helmers, Infrared employs elements of the found-footage pic that are as old as handheld photography itself yet crafts them into an assured, refreshingly gore-free, gleefully good-time frightener. 

WEST SIDE STORY

Stars: Ansel Elgort, Rachel Zegler, Ariana DeBose, David Alvarez, Mike Faist, Rita Moreno, Corey Stoll, Brian d’Arcy James, Josh Andrés Rivera, Iris Menas.
Writer: Tony Kushner
Music: Leonard Bernstein, Stephen Sondheim.
Director: Steven Spielberg

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★ ½

Steven Spielberg has cited on countless occasions the role that the 1961 Oscar-winning classic West Side Story has had on his life. It was the film, along with Lawrence of Arabia, that fuelled his passion for cinema. It imprinted upon his young mind the impact that colour and movement and rhythm and composition can have upon an audience.

So how does the most accomplished, commercially successful filmmaker of all time interpret the story that was the very inspirational source that led him to legendary status?

Or, more precisely - can the filmmaker, now 75 years of age, and having engaged the hearts and minds of two generations of filmgoers, re-capture the sense of film magic that shaped his impressionable teenage mind? Is the kind of awe-inspiring, heart-tugging mastery that defined his early work but that has been absent in his later, more studious films, still a well that he can tap?

Steven Spielberg’s West Side Story is a more grounded and contemporary but no less wondrously romantic reworking of the Jerome Robbins/Robert Wise film; a dazzling, deeply respectful rendition of the Stephen Sondheim/Arthur Laurents/Leonard Bernstein story and songbook; and, a feat of widescreen cinematic splendour unmatched since the golden era of Hollywood.

Updated with an eye towards authentic representation by Pulitzer Prize winner Tony Kushner, Spielberg has cast Ansel Elgort (channeling a young Val Kilmer) and the breathtakingly talented Rachel Zegler as Tony and Maria, lovebirds from different neighbourhoods whose passion will ignite the gangland feud between the Jets, led by the self-destructive rebel Riff (a compelling Mike Faist) and the latino gang, The Sharks, under amateur boxer Bernardo (David Alvarez).

For those of us who have pined for a Spielberg-helmed musical since the ‘Jitterbug’ sequence in 1941 (1979) and again after the ‘Anything Goes’ opening of Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom (1984), West Side Story proves worth the wait. The director excels in the vibrant dance sequences, none more so than the soaring splash of colour and kinetic energy he conjures for the showstopper, ‘America’. With actress Ariana DeBose at the centre of choreographer Justin Peck’s dance action, the director (along with cinematographer Janusz Kaminski and veteran editor Michael Kahn) literally lifts you from your seat, so at one with his camera are his characters and his audience. 

Other highlights are the gasp-inducing final rumble between Riff and Bernardo; the alleyway/fire escape sequence in which Tony and Maria sing their longing for each other; and, original cast member Rita Moreno returning for a major role and commanding every frame of her performance with the same magic she conveyed on screen 60 years ago.

The thematic elements that we recognise as being synonymous with the America of today - ghetto marginalisation, bias in the policing of minorities, the horror of gun-related violence - are so markedly relevant, why should a filmmaker of Spielberg’s stature not tackle a remake of a work many perceive as an untouchable classic? And Kushner’s collaborations with Spielberg have always been in service of immediate social commentary - Munich (2005) weighed in on vengeance as the U.S. retaliation for 9/11 was in full bluster; Lincoln (2012) espoused humanity in politics as the nation’s bi-partisan divide grew wider.  

In 2021, the film is not the groundbreaking artistic gamble it was in 1961; it earns its kudos as a heartfelt homage and overdue contemporisation. Or are those elements the film’s most glorious achievements? Does it throwback to a period so long since departed - that era of giddy, glorious majestic film storytelling and movie camera mastery - that it feels somehow fresh all over again? It is not impossible to imagine a young filmmaker seeing West Side Story at a point in his own development and being impacted by Spielberg’s reworking in much the same way the great director was in his youth.

THE TUNNEL: THE OTHER SIDE OF DARKNESS

Featuring: Enzo Tedeschi, Julian Harvey, Carlo Ledesma, Andy Rodoreda, Bel Deliá, Luke Arnold, Steve Davis, Eduardo Sanchez, Ahmed Salama and Andrew Mackie.
Director: Adrian Nugent

Reviewed Sunday December 5 at Monster Fest 2021, Cinema Nova, Melbourne.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

The key players at the centre of a unique moment in Australian cinema history reflect upon their achievements in The Tunnel: The Other Side of Darkness. Recounting the emerging technology, gathering of personalities, indie-film landscape and distribution infrastructure that smashed together and created the headline-grabber that was 2011’s The Tunnel, director Adrian Nugent’s deep-dive into the blind ambition and unshakeable faith behind the found-footage shocker is a must-see for genre fans and, more importantly, wannabe filmmakers everywhere (pictured, above: actress Bel Deliá and director Carlo Ledesma). 

When the production triumvirate of producer Enzo Tedeschi, writer Julian Harvey and director Carlo Ledesma decided to film a horror/thriller in the abandoned subway tunnels under Sydney’s CBD, elements such as budget constraints, daunting location logistics and the sector’s indifference to genre projects should have been key indicators that The Tunnel was not the best idea for a first feature. 

But the project was coalescing at a time when crowdfunding was peaking and Tedeschi, an understated but driven creative executive, brought old-school showmanship to the new filmmaking paradigm; he sold frames of his yet-to-shoot film for a dollar, counting on a secure production budget materialising ahead of lensing. He and Harvey then made the call that grabbed the industry’s attention - the film would go out free as a BitTorrent stream. The recognised tool of the video piracy criminal underworld would be used as a legitimate distribution platform.

The Tunnel: The Other Side of Darkness melds archival digital footage (as crisp now as when it was shot 11 years ago) with the recollections of many associated with the film. Cast members including Luke Arnold, Bel Deliá, Andy Rodoreda and Steve Davis, all front to recount the sense of community, unshakeable commitment and inevitable corner-cutting synonymous with independent film sets. The best ‘I-still-can’t-believe-it’ moment is when, posing as their news crew characters, the actors blend in with real-life journos at a press conference held by then-prime minister, Julia Gillard.

Although it veers very close to ‘insider only’ territory, the historical context in which Nugent and, on-camera, Tedeschi and Harvey recall life as BitTorrent denizens is no less compelling. The global trade-paper coverage of the film’s ultimate acquisition by local Paramount Studios' subsidiary Transmission Films and how damaging to all involved the ‘Studio Giant in Bed with Piracy Partner’ headlines became is behind-the-scenes gold (pictured, above: l-r, producer Enzo Tedeschi and writer Julian Harvey).        

One revelation left unexplored is in answer to the indelicate question - did The Tunnel make any money? It wrapped largely on budget and, at last count, the film had an estimated viral audience of 25 million views. But in the decade since The Tunnel crowd-surfed into existence, no major productions immediately come to mind that adopted the same distribution methodology. The documentary cites as creative inspiration that found-footage benchmark, The Blair Witch Project (co-director Eduardo Sanchez is a guest interviewee), but that film was a black ink-soaked blockbuster. Was the aim to get the film seen and/or turn a profit?

Irrespective of such crass considerations, the cult of The Tunnel is undeniable; Tedeschi recalls with pride a bucket-list moment when a chance meeting with Quentin Tarantino revealed the celebrated auteur as a Tunnel fan. And the influence of Harvey’s narrative and Ledesma’s visual stylings has resonated - check out the first episode of streaming service Shudder’s latest horror hit V/H/S 94 to see a terrific riff on life under a big city. 

The Tunnel: The Other Side of Darkness is a complete and compelling end-to-end account of independent production ingenuity and the passion it requires and inspires.

ANGELE

Featuring: Angèle, Marko, Laurence Bibot, Damso, Roméo Elvis and Dua Lipa.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

Currently available worldwide on Netflix.

Belgian singer/songwriter Angèle Van Laeken applies some carefully orchestrated introspection to her stardom in the so-appropriately self-titled documentary, Angèle. First-time director Sébastien Rensonnet and music-video veteran Brice Vdh corral third-person footage - much of it shot by the starlet herself, deep in her COVID-lockdown headspace -  and mould it to a template set by Madonna (Truth or Dare, 1991), Justin Bieber (Never Say Never, 2011) and Katy Perry (Part of Me, 2012). The resulting cinematic snapshot proves sweetly engaging, part confessional / part infomercial.

The opening salvo of images chronicling the pop sensation’s rise to homeland celebrity certainly leans into the privilege of her upbringing. The daughter of ‘90s pop singer Marka and actress/comedienne Laurence Bibot, she was blessed with talent that was encouraged from an early age, even if an underlying theme of the documentary is Angèle’s determination to break free of her parent’s public profiles and establish her own professional identity.

Taking its cues from the dozens of long-hand journals that she kept during her formative years, the documentary ticks off key moments in the 25 year-old’s development as a lyricist, public figure and person. These include winning over crowd indifference as support act to rapper Damso; hitting online viral heights, first as an Instagram personality and then with the release of her first song, La Loi de Murphy; and, the frenzied reception to her blockbuster album Brol and its record-breaking single, Tout oublier.

Perhaps because so much of their film is private moments captured on smartphones or home video, Rensonnet and Vdh use their subject’s performance presence sparingly. Fans tuning in to see concert footage or rehearsal time may be underwhelmed, but there is already plenty of that material in circulation. In fact, so consumed is the film with its distillation of modern fame, it is not her pairing with superstar Dua Lipa that resonates but instead the relationship Angèle has with her affectionate, outspoken grandmother.  

It becomes clear that a part of the documentary’s role is to provide a clear voice and sturdy platform for Van Laeken to close the door on several image-threatening moments that arose in the early stages of her fame. Paramount amongst these is how she dealt with the backlash against her brother, rapper Roméo Elvis, when he is outed for inappropriate sexual conduct, and the songstress takes both a firm stance against his actions while still maintaining her ‘family above all’ mantra. 

Emerging as a feminist icon in the wake of her #MeToo anthem Balance ton quoi role and coming-out as bisexual in late 2020 are handled with an evenhanded maturity, speaking to the film’s raison d’etre - the affirmation that Angèle has survived the first stage of her life in the spotlight and is poised to embrace whatever challenges she faces as a powerful, focussed young woman.

AINBO: SPIRIT OF THE AMAZON

Featuring: Lola Raie, Naomi Serrano, Dino Andrade, Joe Hernandez, Thom Hoffman, Rene Mujica, Yeni Alvarez, Bernardo De Paula, Alejandro Golas and Susanna Ballesteros.
Writers: Richard Claus, Brian Cleveland and Jason Cleveland.
Directors: Richard Claus and Jose Zelada.

Rating: ★ ★ ★

A Peruvian/Dutch co-production, AINBO boasts a strong-willed, Indigenous heroine, self-assured and sturdy of character, with one determined eye cocked towards her personal goals, the other watching over her people and their traditions. This stirring, culturally-layered adventure deserves to do for the Amazon jungle what Moana did for Hawaii and Frozen did for snow. 

Our titular heroine (energetically voiced by actress Lola Raie), is at a junction in her growth, both as a young woman and as a member of her tribal community. The village lies deep in Candamo rainforest, an uncharted pocket of jungle that legend has it exists on the back of an almighty beast named Turtle Motelo Mama (Susana Ballesteros). 

Increasingly alienated from her best friend and new village leader Princess Zumi (Naomi Serrano), Ainbo is befriended by her ‘spirit guides’ - an armadillo named Dillo (Dino Andrade), and a tapir named Vaca (Joe Hernandez), playing the ‘Timon and Pumba’ sidekick roles. Together, the trio discover their land is threatened by encroaching tree-crunching steel giants. Guided by Turtle Mama and the spirit of her ancestors, Ainbo sets about fighting Yacuruna, the evil jungle spirit, who manifests in the form of a linen-suit wearing corporate scumbag, Cornell DeWitt (Thom Hoffman).

Directors José Zelada and Richard Claus utilise the template established by the Mouse House in films like Moana, Frozen, Brave and Tangled and craft a familiar story of empowerment and family and friendship. A point of difference emerges in the use of centuries-old Amazonian customs and lore to tell this contemporary tale, as well as its addressing of the issue of deforestation and land clearing of traditionally-owned land in the  Basin.

It is the indigenous-themed elements that work best in Ainbo; an over-reliance on goofy humour, the kind that assumes kids need a pratfall or an eyeroll to stay engaged, are less impactful. The best moments recall Kirby Atkins’ 2019 pic Mosley, which embraced heritage and legacy with an equally engaging connection to its characters and setting. The CGI character animation lacks Pixar fluidity, although thankfully avoids mimicking the cliched, ‘doe-eyed’ facial designs of so much studio output; the landscapes are beautifully rendered, capturing the breathtaking Amazon greens and blues with true artistry.

KATE

Stars: Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Miku Patricia Martineau, Tadanobu Asano, Jun Kunimura, Michiel Huisman, Miyavi, Mari Yamamoto and Woody Harrelson.
Writer: Umair Aleem
Director: Cedric Nicolas-Troyan

Rating: ★ ★ ★

Kate is a great movie if you want to test out your new soundbar, or get back at that neighbour for renovating during lockdown. Director Cedric Nicolas-Troyan’s female assassin revenge thriller is best watched with the volume amped up to levels that both maximise the visceral rush of the ultra-violent action and drown out that pesky need for logic and depth in cinema.

Mary Elizabeth Winstead plays the titular avenger, a stealthy hitwoman trained since childhood in all manner of lethal means by Varrick, played by Woody Harrelson projecting a ‘I’ve done this before, just let me act’ vibe. When a hit goes wrong, Kate must pay the price; a one-night stand with Michiel Huisman (who also one-night-stood with Kaley Cuoco in The Flight Attendant) turns bad when she is poisoned with a radioactive drug and given 24 hours to live.

A billion miles away from the adorably cherubic Ramona in Scott Pilgrim vs The World, Winstead continues her transformation into A-list action heroine that began in earnest as The Huntress in Birds of Prey; she is a lean, mean, battered and bleeding killing machine, perfectly embodying the movie she’s in. It’s uncertain whether the actress’ planned career trajectory was as a butt-kicking, head-cracking vigilante; one can't help feel that after a 2016 that saw her topline the theatrical hit 10 Cloverfield Lane and the promising but ultimately unsuccessful network series BrainDead, Hollywood might have had loftier ambitions for her unique appeal and talent.

Act 2 kicks off with Kate seeking vengeance for her impending death by tracking down the Yakuza boss she believes ordered the hit. The journey takes her deep into the neon-lit Tokyo night, an odyssey that brings with it a brattish teen named Ani (Miku Patricia Martineau), the daughter of one of Kate’s recent whacks, and who can conveniently supply at lot of narratively-helpful information about her gangster relatives. Set in motion is a bone-cracking series of splattery encounters between Kate and knife-wielding gun-toting henchmen, all of whom die by some horribly violent and beautifully choreographed means (the in-the-chin/out-the-forehead knifing is a highlight). 

Early on, Kate hints at a need for a more sedate, less blood-soaked lifestyle, and the relationship she develops with Ani goes some way to fulfilling those longings. While the actresses work hard to make these moments count, Umair Aleem’s script is less committed. Also working against real-world feelings are plot developments that don’t make a lot of sense (if they can find Kate in a classy bar to poison her, why not just cap her ass there and then?) Wild shoot-outs and stabby hand-to-hand conflict unfold randomly and regularly in heavily-populated locations, suggesting Tokyo is one of those police-free big cities often found in these sorts of films.

All others aspects of this mid-range Netflix programmer adhere to the wronged female assassin template, maximised in pics like Bridget Fonda’s The Assassin, its French source material La Femme Nikita, Soarise Ronan’s Hanna and, most recently, Karen Gillan’s Gunpowder Milkshake. Also in the mix is the central plot device of the 1949 film noir classic D.O.A., remade in 1988 with Dennis Quaid as the poisoned protagonist. Kate is a movie that nods to other, better movies, but which does enough to punch a hole in lockdown boredom for 100+ minutes.

WITCHES OF BLACKWOOD

Stars: Cassandra Margrath, Kevin Hofbauer, Lee Mason, Susan Vasiljevic, Francesca Waters, Nikola Dubois, John Voce, Nicholas Denton and Francesca Waters.
Writer: Darren Markey
Director: Kate Whitbread

WITCHES OF BLACKWOOD will release day-and-date on September 7 on DVD and Premium TVOD, followed by a full digital release.

Rating: ★ ★ ★

Reaffirming the long held cinematic maxim that anyone who lives in a small country town has something horrible to hide, Kate Whitbread’s flavourful, female-focused ‘Australian Gothic’ chiller Witches of Blackwood spins a slow burn narrative steeped in dark memories and sinister secrets to increasingly potent effect. 

Cassandra McGrath stars as Claire Nash, a cop relieved of duty while the suicide of a young man (a terrific Nicholas Denton) in her presence is being investigated. A phone call from her Uncle Cliff (Brit actor John Voce) brings Claire home to the bush township of Blackwood; her dilapidated family home, scene to moments of mystery and menace in the past, needs tending. 

Despite its pretty eucalyptus backdrop, Blackwood is a soulless place, its streets empty but for a few sallow-eyed women, wandering aimlessly. Horrors begin to arise around Claire; gruesome animal remains, a blood-soaked woman in her bathtub, ethereal visions in the bushlands. As hinted at not-so-subtly in the US title (it was ‘The Unlit’ during its limited cinema season Down Under), the dark spirits that haunt Blackwood are emerging and tied directly to the legacy left by Claire’s family.

The first act of Darren Markey’s script hits character beats that establish Claire and her mental anguish, but meanders on its journey to Blackwood. The film finds surer footing as the spectre of the supernatural surfaces. McGrath plays ‘unravelling sanity’ well and the confluence of her past and Blackwood’s present gives the actress some emoting opportunities that don’t always arise in genre pics. The twist that bridges the ‘then and now’ and brings Claire’s journey full circle is as well-handled as any of M. Night Shyamalan’s recent efforts.

The on-trend ‘folk horror’ vibe, including the full extent of the coven’s bloodlust, delivers in gruesome detail. While it lacks the mythological backstory of Ari Aster’s Midsommar or warped psychology of Darren Aronofsky’s Mother!, the oppressive darkness that smothers the township and courses through Claire makes Witches of Blackwood an intriguingly nightmarish entry in the genre.

WHEN I'M A MOTH

Stars: Addison Timlin, TJ Kayama and Toshiji Takeshima.
Writer: Zachary Cotler.
Directors: Zachary Cotler and Magdalena Zyzak.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

Taking as their starting point a small window of ambiguity in the private history of a very public figure, directors Zachary Cotler and Magdalena Zyzak imagine a formative time in the Alaskan boondocks of 1969 for one Hillary Rodham. A commanding central performance by Addison Timlin and the skill of DOP Lyn Moncrief, whose lensing affords the film the evocative aesthetic of a European chamber piece, ensure When I’m a Moth is a captivating, if determinedly atypical study of political drive.     

Based upon a throwaway (and frustratingly unprovable) passage in her 2003 autobiography Living History, in which Rodham claims to have gone full blue-colour on a fish cannery production line after her accomplished college years, When I’m a Moth presents 20-something Hillary energised by ‘Summer of Love’ free-spiritedness yet still tied to her privileged upbringing and focussed ambition. She has travelled north to Valdez to experience ‘life’, but social graces, a crisply-worn red jacket and her writing desk downtime, penning  pristine handwritten letters home to her parents, suggest you can take the girl out of Wellesley, but…

America is embroiled in the Vietnam War, which may be why Rodham reaches out to two Japanese fishermen who eye her off daily (and why Cotler sets the men’s hometowns as Nagasaki and Hiroshima, also victims of America’s military might in years past). Mitsuru (Toshiji Takeshima; above, left) is the hardened elder, unmoved and a little disdainful of Rodham’s intellectual chit-chat; the younger Ryohei (TJ Kayama; above, right) is intrigued, and soon he and Rodham are connecting...kind of. She woos him, albeit unwittingly, with her sweet, sexy smarts, exuding promise and the potential for greatness, but when his dreams start to include her, she withdraws; ultimately, she won’t even reveal her surname to him. 

There is a strong vein of symbolism in When I’m a Moth, no less so than in the romantic connection between the two leads. Hilary’s appeal to Ryohei and her ultimate rejection speaks to the lure, disillusionment and disappointment many immigrants experience when chasing the ‘American Dream’. The film's landscape is bathed in a dreamlike haze, often the mist rolling in off the Alaskan waters but also soft-focus candles, pitch-black backgrounds and discordant angles; the world of Hilary's northern sojourn is as imagined as the narrative.

Addison Timlin is a revelation as Hilary; physically, she appears as one imagines Rodham may have 50+ years ago but, more importantly, she sells the musings of a fresh-out-of-college young WASP woman as focused and singularly linear. Rodham’s drive to succeed in public service life and ambitions of life in the highest office she can envision is conveyed with piercing clarity in Timlin’s performance. 

Also conveyed is the centrifugal force that Rodham would become, often to her detriment. Her journey to Alaska was to garner other-world experience yet, like a missionary spreading the gospel, she is equally enriched by how those around her react in her presence. As an imagined construct of a tiny portion of Hilary Rodham’s maturing, When I’m a Moth embodies the very essence of how both supporters and detractors would come to perceive America’s most popular un-elected Presidential candidate.

YOU CANNOT KILL DAVID ARQUETTE

Featuring: David Arquette, Christina McLarty Arquette, Rosanna Arquette, Patricia Arquette, Courtney Cox, Coco Arquette, Jack 'Jungle Boy' Perry, ‘Diamond’ Dallas Page, Rj Skinner, Eric Bischoff and Jerry Kubik.
Writers/directors: David Darg and Price James.

YOU CANNOT KILL DAVID ARQUETTE will be available on digital platforms September 6 in Australia via Blue Finch Film Releasing.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

From its title on down, this study of a man determined to right a wrong while reigniting his celebrity is filled with layers of meaning. The words ‘You Cannot Kill David Arquette’ is certainly a rousing declaration from the actor that there is still life and promise in him yet. They could also work as a contract stipulation for any pro wrestlers involved in the production, so hated was Arquette in the wake of a 20 year-old publicity stunt that made him wrestling’s most reviled figure.

In 2000, David Arquette was leaning into the perception that the exciting young actor who had emerged in the booming ‘90s indie sector was also a bit...kooky. He had broken out as goofball cop Dewey in the Scream franchise and decided to double-down the on-screen daffiness with a lead role in the wrestling comedy, Ready to Rumble. To promote the film, he got in the ring with real-life wrestling giants and walked away with the WCW World Heavyweight Championship; fans were less than impressed (and baulked on watching Ready to Rumble, which bombed).        

You Cannot Kill David Arquette finds the man nearing 50, happily married to Christina McLarty Arquette (the film’s producer), but in the career doldrums. It is not immediately obvious why he would want to return to the scene of his infamy other than honouring the old adage, ‘any publicity is good publicity’, but motivations emerge; he loves wrestling, has since childhood, and is tormented that he will forever be, in his words, “a smear on its legacy.”

In tracking Arquette’s arduous return to, first physical activity, then the professional circuit, directors David Darg and Price James capture aspects of the man that drag their film, kicking and screaming at times, beyond a chronicle of eccentricity. Arquette’s mental health and the potential impact upon his addiction issues is examined; the very real concern for his physical well-being, given pre-existing conditions; and, how his family (including sisters Patricia and Rosanna, teenage child Coco and ex-wife Courtney Cox) view his typically unpredictable career choices.

And Arquette puts in the hard yards. The physique goes from ‘dad bod’ to an athlete’s frame over the course of the film. He earns pro-wrestling cred by pitting himself against backyard battlers (who absolutely f**kin’ hate him) and plunging into the choreographed theatricality of Mexico City’s luchadores troupes. In one legitimately shocking sequence, he suffers a near-fatal neck-wound when an exhibition match goes bad. Emotions take a hit, too; the film is dedicated to Arquette’s friend, the late Luke Perry. 

If it is the spirit of pro-wrestling that the actor wants to honour with his return to the canvas, You Cannot Stop David Arquette works wonderfully to that end. It is, in equal measure, a rousing sports-drama narrative and pure bells-&-whistles; a study in struggle and pain to achieve a personal goal and managed spectacle in the name of putting on a great show. If that doesn’t capture the essence of the sport, it’d be hard to pinpoint what does, and ought to correct the anti-Arquette sentiment amongst his fellow leotard-lovers.