Films directed my multiple filmic talents have the capacity to go one of two ways. And by “multiple directors” I am referring to those that come in segments with one creative in charge of each, as opposed to true collaborative affairs that have two major names at the helm. Think such flicks as the controversial ‘Destricted’, the much-applauded ‘Four Rooms’ or the beautifully whimsical ‘Paris, je t’aime’, all flicks that are known as anthology, omnibus or portmanteau films, depending on which film studies class you graduated from!

 

When I read the term “comedy horror” in relation to Aussie flick “100 Bloody Acres” my first thought was: this could all go horribly wrong. I had visions of “Scary Movie part 115” and the like, but then remembered that the film was Australian - a nation who do dark very, very well.

I must admit that knew nothing of "100 Bloody Acres," the debut film by sibling writer-directors Colin and Cameron Cairnes, until I saw it in preparation for writing this blog. However the legendary Roger Ebert calls it “the best low-budget horror comedy since ‘Shaun of the Dead’,” so I went in with high expectations and a strong stomach for gore.

"I think there's a magic, a transformation from just grape juice to this magic… there's an alchemy, an otherworldly alchemy going on in there." Maynard James Keenan

When I first spent time with Tool, A Perfect Circle and Puscifer front man Maynard James Keenan just over ten years ago I was astonished at his passion for wine, which was threatening to overtake his passion for music. During a visit to the Penfolds winery just outside Adelaide his enthusiasm for the grape was infectious, but my budget didn’t extend to the $1000 plus bottles of red that he was quaffing on a regular basis. I didn’t hesitate to join in for a glass however - would have been rude not to - and by god I got an education in what tastes good, when and with what. I’m lucky it didn’t spoil me for life.

 

Last week I was deeply disturbed whilst watching a nasty little slice of fiction - the darkly cruel ‘Silver Tongues’ - and this week I’ve been handed a major downer in the form of real life, the documentary ‘Shadows of Liberty’. Thanks Rialto boss and the happy pills are on you!

Essentially a little journey through the darker corridors of the American media landscape, it is essential viewing from beginning to end and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen - as much as I wanted to during several excruciating and tragic scenes.

A rather interesting - and totally compelling - watch in the wake of our recent election AKA Doing the Dirty with Politics, ‘Shadows of Liberty’ is a documentary directed by Jean-Philippe Tremblay and featuring a bit player in New Zealand’s own political game, Julian Assange. It has been called a “slick, masterful political essay on the degradation of contemporary journalism” (Ezra Winton, Art Threat), which makes it sound a little more dour than it is I think as it really gets the heart pumping and the anger bubbling.

I’d heard 2011 indie film ‘Silver Tongues’ described as a “dark little drama” in passing, but by GOD was that an understatement. Director and writer Simon Arthur received the "someone to watch" award at the Independent Spirit Awards for his work directing the flick, which begins fairly innocuously with a saucy little scene in a hotel room bed. When the first scenario starts rolling out it could easily be mistaken for a challengingly funny sex romp - it has all the elements: the unhappy honeymoon, the sexy young wife, the dodgy swingers in the motel restaurant - but soon veers off in one hell of a tricky direction.

When I first read about the premise for this week’s subject, indie movie ‘Concussion’, it all seemed a bit too simple. As in: Suburban Lesbian Mom gets hit on the head by a ball thrown by one of her children and becomes a raving sex fiend and eventually, covert prostitute. I was reminded of The Edge radio station’s tasteless and extremely unpleasant recent promo, which was won by two straight men who agreed to get married for tickets to the World Cup. It bought up the conversation of whether it’s possible to be “gay for a day” or even “straight for pay”, as I assumed aforementioned Suburban Lesbian Mom had turned the corner after a bump on the head and desired blokes but no, she was just in the market for a wider range of ladies. And then some.

This week I’d like to take a look at a stunning new talent cropping up seemingly everywhere you look in the film arena right now, who also happens to have a killer pedigree and a chameleon-like ability to completely transform with each and every role. One presumes that the latter is why the amazing Juno Temple does seem to have her name attached to a slew of great projects, although the former most certainly had a hand in getting her delicate foot in the door.

Juno is the daughter of acclaimed director Julian Temple and producer Amanda Temple, and the star of ‘The Brass Teapot’ (showing on Rialto this week) as well as appearing in two other great flicks on the Rialto horizon, ‘Small Apartments’ and ‘Magic Magic’. She reportedly decided at age 4 that she wanted to be an actor after her father showed her ‘Belle et la Bête’ by Jean Cocteau, which seems dreadfully precocious to me but may well be true!

Actress Julia Blake and Last Dance director David Pulbrook. 

Showing right now on Rialto, Australian film ‘Last Dance’ could be termed merely a damn great thriller, but I (and many others) believe that it's something much more than that. Highly topical in light of current happenings at several conflict spots around the globe, it’s also a film about tolerance and forgiveness, the unspeakable effects of religious and racial hatred and the power of kindness and basic humanity to change lives.

In the feature film ‘Last Passenger’ (showing this week on Rialto Channel) Lewis Shaler (a weary-looking Dougray Scott) is a doctor and solo dad heading home with his young son Max (Joshua Kaynama) on a late night train from London. In true cinematic fashion, Max accidentally causes fellow passenger Sarah Barwell (a pixie-ish Kara Tointon) to spill coffee on her coat, prompting Shaler to apologize to Barwell. The interaction is the beginning of a romantic connection between the two.

Later, while the train is stationary, Shaler notices an unidentifiable man tampering with the train's brakes. As the train begins to move again the plot thickens - he sees another man crawling across the tracks and on investigation, Shaler discovers the conductor has vanished…

“You can choose your friends but you sho' can't choose your family, an' they're still kin to you no matter whether you acknowledge 'em or not, and it makes you look right silly when you don't.”  ― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

In my family tree I have (in no particular order) a partisan, a French gambling whiz who reportedly broke the bank at Monte Carlo and various circus folk - all of which appear very glamorous/fascinating in hindsight, but were probably serious trouble in their day! It is most definitely true that you can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family, and generations of feuds (Cain and Abel, anyone?), embarrassments and hell raisers just go to show that’s not going to change in a hurry.