THE 93RD ANNUAL ACADEMY AWARDS

Did a global pandemic just provide the shot in the arm that the Oscar broadcast needed?

There were some familiar elements about the annual awards ceremony, the kind that a location shift and a downsized production couldn’t rework. But the harder one tried to pinpoint what was the ‘same’ about Oscars 2021, the easier it became to find a point-of-difference between this year and...well, every other Oscar-cast before it.

Broadcast network partner ABC and producers Steven Soderbergh, Stacey Sher and Jesse Collins were charged with capturing the traditions of Academy Awards night but also dragging it through and beyond a media landscape fractured like never before and a society in recovery mode. Their Oscars had to encapsulate a celebration of not just cinema, but of the politics of inclusion and how acceptance and diversity played a role in many of the 2020 nominees. 

Unfolding within the cavernous art deco-inspired Union Station in Los Angeles, bedecked in robes and garnished with floral arrangements that seemed mostly tasteful, the ceremony opened at pace with Regina King gasping for air after walking the red carpet right to her mark on stage (including the ubiquitous ‘gown trip’). Setting the tone for a show that repeatedly acknowledged a country in flux, King opened with an acknowledgement of the George Floyd verdict ("If things had gone differently this past week...I may have traded in my heels for marching boots.")

That is some stark, heartfelt commentary, and more was to follow. Thomas Vinterberg’s win for Best International Feature (pictured, left) afforded a platform for the Danish filmmaker to reflect (in intimate detail) upon the grief of losing his daughter in a car accident at the start of production on Another Round. Best Supporting Actor winner Daniel Kaluuya (for Judas and The Black Messiah) called on society to follow in the spirit of his social activist character, Fred Hampton. He undercut his message somewhat by thanking his parents for having sex (cut to - his mum, mouthing, “What’s he talking about?”), but the point was made.

Such declarations and those that followed weren’t bleated out to a Kodak Theatre-sized audience, imbued with an inflated sense of dutiful righteousness that often accompanies speeches screamed to the back of a theatre. Instead, winners - like Best Score honouree Jon Batiste, who accepted with co-composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross for Soul, and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom Make-Up and Hairstyling team Sergio Lopez-Rivera, Mia Neal, Jamika Wilson - were able to accept with dignified, considered addresses that conveyed heartfelt sentiment.

The biggest shocks of the evening came in a hurried final 15 minutes. West Side Story supporting actress winner Rita Moreno presented the Best Picture winner, not unexpectedly, to Nomadland (Chloe Zhao had already earned the Best Director gong, the first woman of colour to do so), with Best Actor and Actress categories still to air. While audiences were still debating the value in such a move, Frances McDormand took Best Actress honours in typically Frances McDormand style, quoting Macduff from Shakespeare's Macbeth (“I have no words: my voice is in my sword. We know the sword is our work, and I like work”) 

This was followed by a wave of subdued shock and palpable disappointment when the Best Actor Oscar went to an absent Sir Anthony Hopkins for The Father and NOT sentimental favourite, the late Chadwick Boseman, for Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. Musical director Questlove wrapped things up pretty quickly in the wake of Hopkin’s win.

It was clear the format shuffle happened based upon the expectation Boseman would win and his widow, who has made some deeply emotional speeches in her husband’s absence at recent award ceremonies, would end the show on a rapturous remembrance of the actor. It was a roll of the dice the producers gambled and lost on, but it spoke to their willingness to rework and ultimately refresh the format based upon demands beyond their control. 

Notable omissions from the regular format included the host gig, which is totally understandable (not even Billy Crystal, reflecting upon the year that saw 550,000 pandemic fatalities in the U.S., could have pulled off an opening salvo of COVID-related gags); live musical performances (not missed, frankly); and, that bit where the accountants bring a briefcase out for everyone to see.

The 93rd Academy Awards were determined to take a message to an America for whom filmgoing had served no purpose over the past year. It was the role of the producers to define a new relevance for the Oscars, at a time when the movies played little relevance at all. In that regard, the understated ceremony (and that’s not a word I ever thought I’d use to describe the Oscars) proved surprisingly effective, even affecting. Taking a small-scale approach to big-screen entertainment, we were reminded of the value of the art form and those that bring it to us.

BELLINGEN: THE PROMISED LAND

Directors: Peter Geddes and Peter Gailey

Reviewed at Jetty Memorial Theatre on April 21 as part of the Screenwave International Film Festival (SWIFF).

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

There are few places more naturally beautiful on mainland Australia than the hinterland of the New South Wales mid-north coast. If the region had a capital it would be Bellingen, an enclave township steeped in both landowner blue-collar traditions and earthchild spiritualism (hence the affectionate moniker, ‘Boho Bello’). Bellingen exists as a best-of-both-worlds oasis - smaller than the coastal commercial centres of Port Macquarie and Coffs Harbour, and still flying under the radar of the hipster influencers and real-estate vultures who have overrun Byron Bay.

In Bellingen: The Promised Land, retired journo Peter Geddes and veteran editor Peter Gailey, both longterm residents of the region, capture the turbulent past of their now vibrant town. Geddes and his young family settled in the main street of a largely moribund Bellingen in the early 1970s, opening The Good Food Company grocery store and chronicling their adventures with countless photographs and home movies. 

The fortunes of the Geddes family and the sleepy burg took a turn in the wake of the Aquarius Festival in nearby Nimbin, a Woodstock-like love-in that saw hippie hordes flood the region and ultimately adopt Bellingen as home to their free-love, dope-fuelled, cosnsciousness-expanding lifestyle. Utilising thousands of digitised frames from Geddes’ 8mm camera and intercutting the footage with the recollections of personalities from Bello’s cultural revolution, the documentary highlights the energised spirit of the hippie movement and the pulsating creativity injected by the ‘alternates’.

At the centre of great drama is conflict, and Bellingen: The Promised Land recounts the fuse lit by the influx of new wave thinkers in the eyes of the generational farmers and commercial loggers of the area. Reflected upon in vivid detail is an infamous town meeting that many still recall with head-shaking incredulity; a fierce confrontation between boozed-up bushmen and love-child revolutionaries that laid bare the resentment felt by old locals towards the counter-culture influx. A key element in the feud was the now legendary Community Centre, a municipal focal point that brought the hippies out of the hills and into the township.

Gedes and Gailey (pictured, above; l-r) preface the 70s culture conflict by highlighting the violence inherent in Bellingen’s colonial past. The traditional owners of the land, the Gumbaynggir people, lived an idyllic existence amongst the rich flora and abundant fauna of the Eden-like bushland, until white invaders brought commercial interests and weapons. Tribal elder Mark Flanders provides perspective on the first wave of social upheaval that changed the region’s culture, implying that those who fought the hippie community perhaps ought to have reflected upon the role their own ancestors played in shaping the social landscape.

Bellingen: The Promised Land was an exhaustive production undertaking, and occasionally proves to be in the watching; in a post-screening Q&A, Gailey openly admitted that this 104 minute version was his ‘indulgent cut’. Some trimming will help the undeniably engaging film find festival audiences beyond the Bello shire. That said, it will be a tough choosing between excising any of the 50 year-old full-frontal nudity and weed party footage or the insight provided by such local identities as Brett Iggulden, Ian and Ulrieke Kethel, Ian ‘Mac’ MacArthur, Darcey Browning and Mark Oliver. 

The film doesn’t have a villain per se, but the unflinchingly ‘old school’ views of the charismatic Pete Sanger (“They should have, y’know, gone back to where they belong”) earned some groans from the SWIFF crowd. It is hard to conceive that even Bello’s most hard-nosed conservatives would not acknowledge that the thriving community that exists today is a unique hybrid by-product of an unforeseen social experiment - the dramatic melding of a traditional rural lifestyle and an ultra-progressive cultural upheaval, with some of Earth’s most breathtaking nature as the backdrop.

By popular demand, SWIFF have programmed an encore session of BELLINGEN: THE PROMISED LAND on Tuesday April 26. Full session and ticket details are available at the event's official website.

APE CANYON

Stars: Jackson Trent, Anna Fagan, Donny Ness, Clayton Stocker Myers, Lauren Shaye, Skip Schwink, Emily Classen and Bob Olin.
Writer: Harrison Demchick
Directors: Joshua Land and Victor Fink

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ½

It plays cute at key moments, confidently relying on a sweet chemistry between the leads, but Ape Canyon is also a bittersweet tale of obsession, the kind that masks a deeper sadness and inspires men to acts of madness. Co-directors Joshua Land and Victor Fink let their narrative unfold in small increments, unlike the sweeping grandeur that author Herman Melville did in his epic tome Moby Dick – a work referenced in the opening frames and clearly a thematic touchstone for screenwriter Harrison Demchick.

Ape Canyon’s Ahab is Cal Piker (Jackson Trent), a boyish man struggling to cope with his mother’s passing. He hasn’t seen his sister, English teacher Samantha (Anna Fagan), since the funeral, until the day he lobs on her at work with the news that he wants her to accompany him on a hike. Out of the blue, Cal’s childhood obsession with the legendary American cryptid, Bigfoot, has been rekindled, and Samantha suddenly finds herself by Cal’s side, deep in the woods.

Samantha needs scant nudging to comprehend the whole endeavour is a mistake, and fate keeps trying to convince Cal of his pointless quest. Their tour guide Franklin (Skip Schwink) absconds with their valuables; fellow hikers, lovebirds Mark (Clayton Stocker Myers) and Gina (Lauren Shaye), are faking it in defiance of their romantic loneliness. Only Charlie (scene-stealer Donny Ness) has his heart, and bah mitzvah endowment, in the trip. But Cal, like Melville’s tortured and damaged protagonist, becomes myopically determined to reach the titular valley.

Trent and Fagan keep things light, even when more mature adults might have recognised the mental health issues at play. Their sibling bickering is authentic, in particular Fagan’s fraying frustration as Cal’s grip on reality. A few plot developments have that ‘only in the movies’ sheen (a jailbreak sequence pushes credulity), but personality and pacing serve to smooth over such moments.

Sasquatch die-hards will sense early on that, like the great white whale, our hairy hero is of most value to the production as a metaphorical presence. He comes to life briefly, in some beautifully crafted animation sequences (and a silly but funny dream sequence), but this is not the film to finally dispel the damage down by Harry and The Hendersons (Bobcat Goldthwaite’s terrific 2013 found-footage thriller, Willow Creek, came closest).

THEN CAME YOU

Stars: Craig Ferguson, Kathie Lee Gifford, Ford Kiernan, Phyllida Law and Elizabeth Hurley.
Writer: Kathie Lee Gifford
Director: Adriana Trigiani

Rating: ★ ★ ★

In what feels like, for most of its running time, two old friends having a lark in the Scottish countryside finds just enough heart and honesty at key moments to keep Then Came You from being just a sweetly disposable confection. Craig Ferguson, exuding true leading man charisma, shares genuine chemistry with co-lead and scripter Kathie Lee Gifford…which is fortunate, because it’s all the narrative really asks of them.

In an all-too-rare bigscreen outing, Ferguson transposes his stand-up/talkshow persona into the role of Howard Awd, a widower overseeing a lochside estate that was once his home but is now a guesthouse. With his best mate Gavin (Ford Kiernan, delivering the goods in that rom-com staple role), Awd is struggling to keep alive the memory of his late wife by maintaining the magnificent but increasingly dilapidated manor (shot at the picturesque Ardkinglas House in the Scottish coastal hamlet of Cairndow).

Into Awd’s life comes Annabelle Wilson, a Nantucket widow carrying her late husband’s ashes in an empty chocolate box (because her husband’s favourite movie was Forrest Gump, in the first of many movie references that include Titanic, The Way We Were and, amusingly, Braveheart). As Annabelle, Gifford is no Streep but she certainly does all she has to do to convince as a likable fish-out-of-water Yank with a little dark cloud over her soul.

From the moment she’s off the train and in Awd’s care, the pair are giggling and bonding and bickering like a couple of silver-haired teenagers. This almost becomes too much of a good thing, until Ferguson brings the acting chops in a scene where he fronts up about the true nature of his own grief. It’s a relatively brief sequence but it is all the film needs to provide enough grounded emotion in the pic’s second half.

Despite sharing above-the-title credit, Elizabeth Hurley (more breathtakingly beautiful than ever) has only a handful of scenes as Awd’s fiancee; the great Phyllida Law pulls of a thankless role as the pivot of a subplot that never rings true. Adriana Trigiani, ably directing her first feature since the undervalued 2014 melodrama Big Stone Gap, unloads large passages of exposition via disembodied dialogue; Annabelle’s reason for being in Scotland is plonked down by an off-camera Gifford as the pair drive around the stunning countryside (the hardest working crew member was the drone pilot, without a doubt). 

That’s not a big deal, as narrative is secondary to niceties in this type of mature-age romantic fantasy. With two seasoned performers outfront, clearly comfortable in each other’s company, Then Came You will nicely serve the Senior’s Club ticket holders seeking postcard locales and personable dramedy.

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.

MUSIC

Stars: Maddie Ziegler, Kate Hudson, Leslie Odom Jr., Ben Schwartz, Mary Kay Place and Hector Elizondo.
Writers: Sia and Dallas Clayton.
Director: Sia.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

In Australian singer/choreographer Sia’s directorial debut Music, a neurotypical actor has been cast as a character with non-verbal autism. The practice is, of course, hugely problematic; casting able-bodied actors to portray disabled characters is as old as cinema itself. As past insensitivities in the name of storytelling have been mothballed, we hope the casting of the neurodiverse in roles depicting their experiences is inevitable. (For an impassioned plea to end the faking of on-screen disabilities, read fellow critic Grant Watson’s take over at Fiction Machine, or Variety’s coverage of autism advocacy group’s collective outcry).

So, the question arises as to whether a film that employs such a practice can, even should, be reviewed fairly in light of its casting. 

Whether her presence sits uncomfortably with the majority of 2021 film watchers, lead actress and Sia’s long-time muse Maddie Ziegler is terrific as ‘Music’, giving a compelling performance of technical skill and deep resonance. Some critics will bemoan it, citing it is all ‘ticks and clicks’ merely reinforcing a century of well-intentioned but cliched portrayals of those with additional needs. But there is no doubt that Ziegler’s nuanced acting and her director’s interpretation of Music’s worldview prove deeply moving.

Part of that ‘worldview’ is presented as intricately choreographed song-and-dance interludes; vibrant, giddy flights of whimsy by which Music comprehends her reality. It is an inspired creative choice for the director to make, and while it seems unlikely that there will be a wave of ‘mental health musicals’ in the wake of this film, the role these sequences play in helping the audience understand Music’s emotional state is crucial. 

Music’s structured daily routine is thrown into turmoil when her grandmother and carer (Mary Kay Place) passes suddenly. Despite a neighbourhood support group that includes caring super George (the wonderful Hector Elizondo), sweethearted softie Felix (Beto Calvillo) and handsome loner Ebo (Leslie Odom Jr.), it falls to opportunistic half-sister and recovering addict Zu (Kate Hudson) to reconnect with and care for her. Not everything rings true about Hudson’s portrayal - with her ripped movie-star physique and pearly whites, she’s the healthiest-looking black-out drunk in movie history - but the relationship she develops with both Music and, by extension, Ebo, does convince.

Sia has been open about her ‘creativity and community’ philosophy and that is exactly the themes that she expands upon in an impressive filmmaking debut. Her take on big-city life is every bit as rose-colour filtered as her conjured dance numbers; this is an only-in-the-movies LA neighbourhood, where street vendors shout out your name with a smile and drug dealers look and act like the adorably camp Ben Schwartz. When the movie does dip into the harsh realities of, say, an alcoholic’s fall from the wagon, the loneliness of life has an HIV sufferer or the horror of domestic abuse, the impact is appropriately jarring.    

With co-scripter and children’s author Dallas Clayton, Sia's articulation of life on the autistic spectrum has credibility and is a vision shared with and buoyed by her lead actress’ dedication. Yes, we want ASD actors cast in parts drawn from their authentic life experiences. Still, we cannot deny that Music considers those experiences with heart, integrity and artistry.

SHORTCUT

Stars: Jack Kane, Zander Emlano, Zak Sutcliffe, Sophie Jane Oliver, Molly Dew, David Keyes, Terence Anderson and Matteo De Gregori.
Writer: Daniele Cosci
Director: Alessio Liguori

Rating: ★ ★ ★

A serviceable creature-feature that will play well enough with housebound under-’20s, the patch-quilt monster-movie/teen drama Shortcut is light on logic but buoyed by an engaging spirit. It will certainly be an advantage if you haven’t seen any of the Jeepers Creepers trilogy, Neil Marshall’s Descent or Guillermo del Toro’s Mimic, genre works that clearly influenced writer Daniele Cosci and director Alessio Liguori (and we’ll get to The Breakfast Club beats later), but for a streaming-service rip of those DVD-era guilty pleasures, Shortcut is perfectly watchable.

An Italian/German co-production that dresses up its Euro locales as a very green middle America, we meet our five heroes on a bus trip heading somewhere deep in the woods. Under the care of warmhearted bus driver Joseph (Terence Anderson) are (cue Simple Minds’ ‘Don’t You Forget About Me’) the every-dude Nolan (Jack Kane), arty blonde Bess (Sophie Jane Oliver), life-of-the-party Karl (Zander Emlano), bespectacled nerd Queenie (Molly Dew) and tough guy rebel Reg (Zak Sutcliffe). Forced onto a sideroad (not really a ‘shortcut’, but...), they are hijacked by snarling escapee Pedro (David Keyes, going all-in on his bad guy turn), a madman known for eating the tongues of his victims.

Pedro soon becomes the least of their problems when their bus breaks down in an abandoned tunnel and the resident of the darkness, a Mothman-like parasitic-humanoid that comes to be known as ‘The Nocturne Wanderer’, begins to hunt them down. Forced into a labyrinthine network of concrete corridors that come with their own dark secrets, the five must find a common strength to survive.

‘Why a whole school bus for these five students?’, ‘Why these five students?’ and ‘Where are they going?’ are just some of the questions left unanswered while watching Shortcut, but such deep-thinking is not really necessary; in fact, it’s best to disengage from reality entirely. These five kids symbolise all teens, and the monsters they face are the allegorical challenges all adolescents face as adulthood looms. 

That might seem a long bow to pull to cut Liguori’s film some slack, but it goes some way to explaining away incongruities and shortcomings that would otherwise derail Shortcut. Age-appropriate audiences will draw more from the characterisations and the dilemmas they face than jaded critics or hardcore horror hounds. 

The overall standard of production - Luca Santagostino’s evocative low-light cinematography; Jacopo Reale’s slick editing; the top-tier practical make-up effects of creature crew supervisor Leonardo Cruciano and offsider Elisabetta Paccapelo - refuses to allow the film to be dismissed as trashy monster malarkey. It generally delivers on that front, of course, but earns respect as a more ambitious entry in the genre.

THE END OF THE STORM

Featuring: Jürgen Klopp, Sir Kenny Dalglish, Jordan Henderson, Sadio Mane, Mohamed Salah, Roberto Firmino, Virgil van Dijk and Alisson Becker.
Writer/Director: James Erskine.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ½

In the English Premier League, you need to be able to pivot on both feet, to be able to exhibit sturdy control and razzle dazzle in equal measure. Which is as good a way as any of describing The End of the Storm, documentarian James Erskine’s part-hagiography/part-rousing sports narrative charting Liverpool Football Club’s record-breaking 2020 dominance, both athletically and commercially.

In this oh-so-authorised account of the Merseyside super-squad’s first title in 30 years, Erskine and his leading man, wünder-manager Jürgen Klopp, riff on the inherent emotion in taking on the challenge of EPL glory for a club like LFC. The German coach, who came to Liverpool after Bundesliga success and a stint at Tottenham Hotspurs, states that the club’s iconic chant ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ mirrors his own philosophies on life, stemming from a childhood steeped in family values and deep friendships. 

The ‘life mentor’ role that is a crucial part of any good manager’s duties is certainly touched upon, as in when Klopp espouses such team spirit-building mantras as, ‘You’ll only feel free in life if you feel protected’. But Erskine pulls up shy of taking the camera into the dressing rooms and boardrooms to capture real drama (as was so compellingly chronicled in the masterful Netflix docu-series, Sunderland ‘Til I Die), instead ensuring that the mood is kept buoyant and in line with the giddy thrill that only Cup winners are afforded.

There is an unsubtle subtext of ‘legacy’ in Erskine’s take on football history-making, notably of the patriarchal kind. Klopp imagines what it would have meant to him had his father been alive to see his achievements, while profiles of fans from all over the world draw clear lines between traditional father figures and the bond with their children that being a Liverpool supporter has enabled. These sequences, some shot as far afield as Kolkata, Detroit and Auckland, walk both sides of a fine line between capturing joyful fan adoration and catering to the commercial realities of a global football franchise.

Undoubtedly the most compelling passage of The End of the Storm is how the organisation confronted the unprecedented shutdown of the global football season as COVID-19 took hold. At the time of the postponement of all EPL fixtures, Liverpool were soaring clear at the top of the ladder by as much as 25 points - mathematically, still able to be run down, but in all reality very clearly champions. However, the very real possibility existed that the 2020 season would be abandoned and the three-decade wait for domestic football glory would be denied to players and fans.

The film builds to a crescendo that plays like an all-American, aspirational sports melodrama, but given the emotional (and commercial) stakes when beloved mega-brands like Liverpool Football Club are in play, and the grand achievements that Klopp and his side accomplished, such excess seems entirely appropriate.

The football action is, of course, superbly captured. Songstress Lana Del Rey contributes an appropriately production-rich reworking of 'You'll Never Walk Alone', underpinning the film's ambitions to embolden both the club mythology and brand power. 

(Ed: As a Derby County supporter, whose team is battling League One relegation as I type, The End of the Storm will be as happy an account of English football as I’ll see this year).

IN CORPORE

Stars: Clara Francesca Pagone, Naomi Said, Kelsey Gillis, Sarah Timm, Frank Fazio, Christopher Dingli, Timothy McCown Reynolds, Amelia June, Simone Alamango, Don Bridges and Naomi Lisner.
Directors: Sarah Jayne Portelli and Ivan Malekin.

Available to view via LIDO at Home. 

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

The challenges faced by four women who just want to shape their destinies on their own terms is the bridging device that binds this portmanteau drama from co-directors Sarah Jayne Portelli and Ivan Malekin.  

Confronted with personal and social hurdles stemming from traditional gender stereotyping, the protagonists in this bracingly contemporary work are not always likable, but that’s kind of the point; whether you love them, hate them or just don’t get them, if you don't respect the decisions they make in the running or ruining of their own lives, then you are part of the problem.

In Corpore (a Latin adverb, meaning ‘in body; in substance’) is broken into four stories, each one focussed on vibrant young women coping with relationship complications. In Melbourne, sculptress Julia (Clara Francesca Pagone) is visiting her friends and parents on a brief trip home from her New York base. Recently wed to a much older man and with broadminded views regarding polygamy and open marriages, Julia indulges her desires when she has morning sex with her old friend Henri (Frank Fazio).

In Malta, Anna (Naomi Said) is facing pressure from her long-term boyfriend Manny (Christopher Dingli) and her extended family to bear children, a life-changing decision that she is not yet willing to undertake. In Berlin, gay couple Rosalie (Sarah Timm) and Milana (Kelsey Gillis) are struggling with jealousies and insecurities steadily on the boil. Then, in New York City, we rejoin Julia as she shares her moment of meaningless infidelity with her silver-fox husband, Patrick (Timothy McCown Reynolds), who, like most of the men in the film, reacts with self-centred petulance and brattish intolerance.  

Two key directorial decisions ensure In Corpore will surface mostly in daring festival placements and in the homes of indie-minded inner-city urbanites. Firstly, the dialogue is improvised, with the actors bouncing off each other with a delivery style that is sometimes pitched a bit high. When it is done right, it conveys heartbreak and honesty and humanity with an aching accuracy; best among the cast is Naomi Said, whose soulful performance is lovely.

The other stylistic choice that Portelli and Malekin gamble with are intensely staged and extended sex scenes. These sequences are clearly designed to positively convey the nature of the emotional connections shared by the characters; in the wake of a particularly heated argument, Timm and Gillis have rough shower sex that speaks to the desperation they are both feeling as their relationship frays. Said and Christopher Dingli make passionate love, yet when their motivations are revealed, the awkward honesty captured is remarkably moving. Many filmmakers claim they only use sex scenes to advance their narratives and build character, but few achieve that noble goal; Portelli and Malekin, and their fearless cast, do so with grace and class.

In Corpore is a slyly subversive battle-of-the-sexes commentary that positions modern young women determined to chart their own course through life as a kind of new heroic narrative arc. The DNA of such landmark empowerment films as Paul Mazurky’s An Unmarried Woman (1978) and Claudia Weill’s Girlfriends (1978) courses through its veins. Like those independently-minded films, In Corpore may also emerge as a work that ushered in a period of social change.

TALES OF THE UNCANNY

Featuring: Kier-La Janisse, David Gregory, Eli Roth, Joe Dante, Mark Hartley, Mick Garris, Ernest Dickerson, Joko Anwar, Ramsey Campbell, David DeCoteau, Kim Newman, Jovanka Vuckovic, Luigi Cozzi, Tom Savini, Jenn Wexler, Larry Fessenden, Richard Stanley, Brian Trenchard-Smith, Brian Yuzna, Gary Sherman, Rebekah McKendry and Peter Strickland.

Director: David Gregory.

AUSTRALIAN PREMIERE: Screening with NIGHT TRAIN TO TERROR 35th Anniversary presentation at Monster Fest from 1:30pm on Sunday, 6th December, Cinema Nova, Carlton, Melbourne.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

Anthology films, those critically under-valued providers of thrills and chills for generations of genre fans, are afforded an appropriately passionate, often giddily infectious reappraisal in Tales of the Uncanny. Severin Films’ boss David Gregory, working with renowned horror academic Kier-La Janisse, have corralled over 60 exponents of cinema’s darkest artistry to recount and respect the greatest short-form film narratives in movie history. Refreshingly, the doco compiles two Best of... lists - for whole films and individual segments -in a gesture that will help new fans seek out the finest of the genre.  

While even the best of anthology films suffer from the inevitable saggy segment (a common trait acknowledged by the filmmakers and their interviewees), no such dip in tone or quality infects Gregory’s buoyant love letter. Tales of the Uncanny tracks the portmanteau format from its origins in Germanic puppet theatre and the collected works of Poe and Lovecraft in publications such as Grahams and Weird Tales magazines through the very earliest days of filmmaking. 

Anthologies played a key role in early European cinema, such as the German masterpieces Eerie Tales (Dir: Richard Oswald, 1919) and Waxwork (Dirs: Leo Birinsky and Paul Leni, 1924) and the great British work Dead of Night (1945), featuring director Alberto Cavalcanti’s classic segment ‘The Ventriliquist’s Dummy’ (with Michael Redgrave; pictured, below). Anthologies soon found favour within Hollywood’s star-driven studio system; director Julien Duvivier’s 1943 pic Flesh and Fantasy boasted the dream cast of Barbara Stanwyck, Edward G Robinson and Charles Boyer.

The obsessively-minded cavalcade of contributors - amongst them, filmmakers (Eli Roth, Joko Anwar, Brian Yuzna, Larry Fessenden, Jenn Wexler, Mattie Do); authors and academics (Kim Newman, Amanda Reyes, Maitland McDonagh); genre giants (Tom Savini, Roger Corman, Luigi Cozzi, Joe Dante, Greg Nicotero, David Del Valle); and, Antipodean talent (Mark Hartley, Brian Trenchard-Smith, Mark Savage) - recount seminal moments in the anthology classics of their formative film years. The coverage is exhaustive, but extra attention is paid to such landmark movies as Mario Bava’s Black Sabbath (1963); Masaki Kobayashi’s Kwaidan (1964); and, Histoires extraordinaires (1968; aka Spirits of the Dead), featuring segments by Louis Malle, Roger Vadim and Frederico Fellini.

Even at a relatively lean 103 minutes, Gregory and Janisse are able to fully profile U.K. outfit Amicus Productions, kings of Britain’s golden age of anthology films (Dr Terror’s House of Horrors, 1965; Torture Garden, 1967; The House That Dripped Blood, 1970; Tales from the Crypt, 1972 (pictured, top; with Joan Collins); From Beyond the Grave, 1974); highlight small-screen anthology horror, from the groundbreaking work of Dan Curtis (Trilogy of Terror, 1975; Dead of Night, 1977) to the resurgent anthology TV-series boom of the ‘80s (Amazing Stories, Tales from the Crypt, Freddy’s Nightmares); and, the classics of the modern era, both adored (Creepshow, 1982; Twilight Zone The Movie, 1984; V/H/S, 2012) and ignored (Cat’s Eye, 1985; From a Whisper to a Scream, 1987; Southbound, 2015).

Tales of the Uncanny has done its job if the viewer comes away with a list of films to re/watch, and it certainly achieves that. It also succeeds in painting the portmanteau genre as a form of film storytelling that needs to be more seriously addressed by both mainstream audiences and film historians. At their very best, anthology films offer the most unique of movie-going experiences and, with credit to David Gregory and Kier-La Janisse, ought now be examined more respectfully.