MORE BALLS THAN CRYSTAL

So, it's that time of the year again, where the filmmaking community commonly known as "Hollywood" hand out surprisingly large gold statuettes to those it decides have waited long enough for universal recognition, and we the viewer are treated to dance sequences, speeches and whatever "innovation" (their word, not mine) the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences believes will shake up the ceremony... all of which can be summed up in one succinct word: INTERMINABLE.



What's more, we don't even have a comic host this year... I'm as much a fan of Hugh Jackman as the next guy, but I tend to enjoy the Oscars most when a slightly subversive loose cannon is at the wheel -- Rock, Stewart, Martin, hell, even Letterman -- and, as charming and affable as Jackman is, he ain't that guy. (It doesn't help that I've long held a vain hope to see Robin Williams have a crack before he moves into senior citizenry... just one last tommy-gun blast of stream-of-consciousness, near-offensive take-no-prisoners free-association to remind us all how great the man once was... but back to topic.) I'm interested to see what he does with it. No doubt it will involve song, which always gives me the shudders.

And please, DON'T get me started on the underwhelming crop of nominees we have this year. I haven't been this uninspired by a Best Picture field since 2000/01, when GLADIATOR, CHOCOLAT, ERIN BROCKOVICH and CROUCHING TIGER, HIDDEN DRAGON duked it out (the slow-moving but smart, stylish and inspired TRAFFIC was the only pistol in the bunch). There's only three awards I'm really invested in tonight, and all I'm gonna say is this: Good luck Mickey Rourke, Marisa Tomei and PRESTO. I'm pulling for ya. (I should throw WALL-E, for Best Animated Feature, in there, too.)

As this is an Oscar predix blog (as Variety would call it), I should get my tips in: a) before my Australian friends, buffs and tragics go into their yearly, Oscar-imposed Media Blackout, and b) before the awards are actually announced. So no more waffling. For the time being, anyway.

BEST PICTURE
Who WILL win: SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE (I'm gonna be saying this a lot, unfortunately). It's won everything to date, and the Mumbai-to-London transcontinental express sure as hell ain't gonna stop here.
Who I'd LIKE to win: I've only seen three of the nominees -- BUTTON, NIXON and SLUMDOG -- and was underwhelmed by all of them. Push comes to shove, I would very narrowly choose FROST/NIXON over Ben Button.

BEST DIRECTOR
Who WILL win: Danny Boyle, SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE. The right guy for the wrong movie. From everything I've ever seen and heard from the man, he seems like one of the genuinely nicest dudes in the business, so I can't begrudge him this. And that's all I have to say about that.
Who I'd LIKE to win: David Fincher, THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON. Again, I've only seen 3 of the 5 nominees, but for mine, this was the best directed film of the three, as most of the film's problems lie in the script (and one of the lead performances). I still maintain that the first 60-70 minutes of this film are utterly spellbinding.

BEST ACTOR
Who WILL win: Sean Penn, MILK. It's the year of Proposition 8, and the (sadly mostly closeted) gay-heavy Academy won't let that go unnoticed. Plus, I hear Penn's really great in it. I thought he should get the Oscar for smiling, alone. Have we ever seen him do that? (In the 27 years since Jeff Spicoli, anyway.)
Who I'd LIKE to win: Mickey Rourke, THE WRESTLER. A big, brave, bold body-slam of a performance, which seemed to be where Rourke's painful, rollicking, messy and messed-up life was leading all along. Just a man baring his heart and soul on the screen for all to see, thanks to Best Director nominee Darren Aronofsky-- huh? Whaddya mean he wasn't nominated?!? But, did they see the film??? What, no Best Picture nomination either?!!?? Arrrrrggghhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(TSIK walks away to headbutt a brick wall several times, before returning.)

BEST ACTRESS
Who WILL win: Kate Winslet, THE READER. Between this and the overlooked REVOLUTIONARY ROAD, the Great Kate Mk II has swept all before her this award season. She's snagged more nominations (six) than any 33 year old in movie history, and it's time for her moment to arrive.
Who I'd LIKE to win: Kate Winslet, THE READER. Because it's Kate Winslet. I've not seen the movie; in fact, the only nominee I've seen is Angelina Jolie's fairly standard and serviceable turn in the resoundingly poor CHANGELING, which has no business getting nominated for anything.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
Who WILL win, I'd LIKE to win and is a CERTAINTY to win: Heath Ledger, THE DARK KNIGHT. Even if tragedy hadn't befallen him, they'd still be giving him a statue today. (The author says this brazenly, having not seen three of the five nominees.)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Who WILL win: Penelope Cruz, VICKY CRISTINA BARCELONA. To quote the Eagles, I can't tell you why. In a tough, evenly spread category, she seems the most flashy and likely.
Who I'd LIKE to win: Marisa Tomei, THE WRESTLER. In a role 16 years and 180 degrees away from her last appearance here, for MY COUSIN VINNY, Tomei is real, raw and ragingly brilliant.

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
Who WILL win: Dustin Lance Black, MILK. By all accounts, the main driving force behind this film getting made, which may explain why his name is given ridiculously large prominence on the film's trailer and poster. Did a bang-up job, by all accounts.
Who I'd LIKE to win: Having only seen IN BRUGES, HAPPY-GO-LUCKY and WALL-E, I would have to say THE WRESTLER. Wha-- it wasn't nominated for this either?!?!??? In light of this, I happily throw my weight behind the endless and seemingly effortless storytelling genius of Pixar (namely, Andrew Stanton, Pete Docter and Jim Reardon -- hey, wasn't he played by River Phoenix in the '80s??) and WALL-E. Beautiful stuff.

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY
Who WILL win: Simon Beaufoy, for you guessed it, SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE. For months, I had Peter Morgan's FROST/NIXON written in pen to win this... until Beaufoy won the WGA award. Seems conducive to a SLUMDOG sweep now.
Who I'd LIKE to win: Anything but that. From the three I've seen, FROST/NIXON was the most impressive. Peter Morgan continues to put fascinating spins on true-life figures.

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE
Who WILL win & Who I'd LIKE to win: WALL-E. Another which shoulda been a contender for the big prize.

...and my picks for the rest...

BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM: THE CLASS (France)
BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY: THE DARK KNIGHT
BEST ART DIRECTION: THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON
BEST COSTUME DESIGN: THE DUCHESS
BEST FILM EDITING: SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE
BEST SOUND EFFECTS EDITING: WALL-E
BEST SOUND EFFECTS MIXING: THE DARK KNIGHT
BEST VISUAL EFFECTS: THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON
BEST MAKEUP: THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON
BEST ORIGINAL SCORE: WALL-E
BEST ORIGINAL SONG: SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE ("Jai Ho")
BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE: ENCOUNTERS AT THE END OF THE WORLD -- A terrific docu which should pip popular favourite MAN ON WIRE at the post. I just wanna see Herzog give an Oscar speech.
BEST SHORT FILM, DOCUMENTARY: THE WITNESS: FROM THE BALCONY OF ROOM 306 -- One of my only two complete stabs in the dark (along with Best Supporting Actress). I know nothing about any of the nominees, and this one just sounds right. And by "this one", I mean, this title.
BEST SHORT FILM, ANIMATED: PRESTO -- Pixar's best short ever. Inspired, hilarious and balls-out brilliant. Puts pretenders like FOR THE BIRDS and BOUNDIN' into the shade.
BEST SHORT FILM, LIVE ACTION: NEW BOY -- It's the only one I've seen, and it's absolutely terrific.

Here's hoping you all do well in your respective Oscar pools, and that some of the truly best films of 2008 -- namely WALL-E and THE WRESTLER -- and take home some goldness this afternoon, Aussie time.

Later gators,
TSIK

WHY SO SERIOUS? (IT'S THE OSCARS, AFTER ALL...)

A few thoughts on the 2008/09 Academy Award Nominations, released this morning, Melbourne time...

THE DARK KNIGHT THING:

Come on, AMPAS, stop being so damn prejudiced. In fact, I demand a recount. Go back, vote again, and get back to me when the polls are counted and THE DARK KNIGHT takes its rightful place as 2009's Oscar Colossus, with a record-breaking 15 nominations -- with Best Picture, Director, Actor, Supporting Actor (x3, for Eckhart and Caine, as well as Heath), Adapted Screenplay, Costume Design, Original Score, etc, on top of the eight it already scored -- befitting the towering, groundbreaking epochal moment in film TDK is. 

After all, it changed the way we see movies, has changed hundreds of millions of lives, inspired a generation of filmmakers, and has redefined the art of feature films as we know it -- so, at least acknowledge all that.

*cough*

Okay, so I'm being facetious. But close your eyes, type a random sequence of letters into Google and hit enter. Then click on the nearest blog link and, chances are, you'll be treated to an anti-Oscar diatribe gushing over the film in exactly this fashion. People have lost their collective minds over THE DARK KNIGHT, and I really don't see why. Don't get me wrong: it's a very good flick. But calls of capital-G Greatness are, to be polite, premature. There's an arseload of folks who really need to breathe, have a Bex and a lie down, and get some distance between them and this film. 

In my recent 2008 wrap up, it was an agonising, line-ball decision as to whether TDK made my Top 10 list, or my Top 5 Most Overrated list. I had a hankering to put it on both, but ultimately -- thanks to an average year for movies, more than anything else -- it squeezed into the Top 10. Even now, that decision doesn't sit entirely well with me, but it's how I felt at the time of publication, so I'll call it a snapshot and move on. But it could've gone either way. 

But 2008 was a fairly average year for movies (particularly if you only count the Oscar-eligible releases, and filter out all that great stuff from the start of the year -- THERE WILL BE BLOOD, JUNO, LARS AND THE REAL GIRL, et al), and maybe audiences just really needed a hero. Not the one we want, but the one we-- um, well, you know the rest. Give me the little boxy robot dude, any day of the week, or the big "broken down piece o' meat". Those two richly deserve a Best Picture spot ahead of TDK. 

However... if the real issue here is not how "Great" THE DARK KNIGHT is, but how the Academy Awards continually pisses on genre pictures, then the argument gains both legs and validity. Of the films I saw, WALL-E was the best Oscar-eligible feature film of 2008... but that's why they invented the Best Animated Feature category, so those damn Pixar nerds couldn't take Best Picture Oscars away from films featuring emotive performances from good, god-fearing, good-looking flesh and blood actors, and steal all our jobs, and our women, and refuse to assimilate, and... 

*ahem*

The Best Animated Feature category cuts the legs off another popularly acclaimed cash cow, the animated feature (or, more pointedly, the PIXAR animated feature). So comic book films and animations are out. Comedies and non-historical actioners never have a chance, and neither do thrillers (THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS was as big a one-off fluke as the Oscars have ever seen). As for science fiction or horror... bwahahahahaha! Yeah, right. Like that's ever gonna happen. (THE EXORCIST and STAR WARS were nominated in the 1970s, but they're both special cases, from a special decade.)  And now we come to my ultimate point: to paraphrase a past unworthy Oscar winner, "Oscar is as Oscar does". 

In our heart of hearts, did we really expect the 5,900 or so members of the Academy -- about 3,500 of which are over 50 -- to vote a Batman movie as Best Picture??  I mean, what does the film say about social tolerance, the vagaries of the human heart, social injustice or the endless struggle to find love?  (And don't give me any of that Rachel Dawes shit, I'm warning you right now.)  Even though I'm not batshit about DARK KNIGHT, I would love to live in a world where something like that could happen. 

We've seen this before: a superhero film broke box office records on its way to three-quarters of a billion worldwide and set new standards for comic book adaptations along the way, while the latest offering from Pixar told arguably the most adult story -- in terms of subtext and complexity -- of any animated film ever released by Disney on its path to a crapload of money, uniformly excellent reviews and the love of nearly all who saw it, regardless of their age. Yet, after the dust of the 2004 Oscars had cleared, SPIDER-MAN 2* was nominated in just 3 technical categories, winning one, and THE INCREDIBLES* was cordoned off behind the velvet rope of the Best Animated Feature category. (And as much as people are carping about a lukewarmly recieved film like THE READER pushing out DARK KNIGHT, spare a thought for S2 and INCREDIBLES, hustled out of the Best Pic race by such modern classics as RAY and FINDING NEVERLAND. In addition, THE AVIATOR was strictly a middle-of-the-pack effort for Scorsese, and even SIDEWAYS seems vastly overrated now.) 

(*Not to mention, in this blogger's humble opinion, SPIDER-MAN 2 & THE INCREDIBLES are far superior to this year's offerings.)

As infuriating as it is, to a certain extent you can't blame the Academy Awards for being the Academy Awards. It's with great interest to me that this year's Best Picture nominees are made up of the following types:

- Epic romance

- Political drama

- Biopic

- Holocaust drama

- Indie Feel Good drama

Now, if you were to hazard a guess as to what kinds of films the post-WWII Academy Awards have fiercely gravitated towards, they would have to be it. Meanwhile, popular blockbuster hits are rewarded with a swag of technical nominations -- the genre film's Oscar booby prize, from DIE HARD to TERMINATOR 2 to, now, WALL-E and THE DARK KNIGHT. This year's list of nominees is a textbook list from a textbook organisation whose relevance has been steadily diminishing for over a decade now. If they don't smarten up soon, they're in real danger of looking like the Grammys. (Who may as well call themselves the "Grammas" for all the edginess they have these days.) 

So, before you all moan and cry about THE DARK KNIGHT's snub, look at the facts. It was never. Gonna. Happen. 

THE WRESTLER THING:

Because of the Oscars' ridiculous, byzantine rules for qualifying and quantifying the eligibility of competitors for the Best Original Song category, the best song written for a movie in 2008 slips away completely unrecognised. Apparently Bruce Springsteen -- who wrote a beautiful title song for THE WRESTLER, which encapsulated Mickey Rourke's desperately lonely, broken-down title character -- included his song on his newest album, mere weeks before the WRESTLER's soundtrack album got out there. Despite it being, y'know, written and recorded for the film, it isn't eligible, so they get to throw more non-deserved nods in the direction of SLUMDOG OVERRATEDAIRE. A damn shame, and who wouldn't want to see The Boss play the Oscar Ceremony for the first time since '94? (Come to think of it, maybe he whacked the track on his own album to avoid Oscar duty...?)

THE SALLY HAWKINS THING:

MY GOD. Of all the Oscar fuckups this year (and there wasn't an insane amount, despite appearances to the contrary) this reigns supreme. Hawkins carries HAPPY GO LUCKY solely on her eminently charming shoulders, making a potentially atomically annoying character not only palatable, but utterly believeable and downright loveable. So who gets her place... Angelina Jolie?  Really?!? While I must confess I haven't seen CHANGELING and can't judge this performance, but I did see her supposedly Oscar-worthy turn in A MIGHTY HEART and found it convincing but totally vanilla. I'm yet to be convinced she can completely disappear into a character. Maybe this is the one, but... surely it isn't the full-bodied breakout performance Hawkins delivers. I could be wrong (but I don't think i will be). 

THE SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE THING:

Just as DARK KNIGHT clearly filled a void for movie audiences, SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE seems to do so for Oscar voters, or awards voters in general. Are we seriously in need of a feel-good film so badly that we're willing to just anoint this, the usually excellent Danny Boyle's most middling film in nearly a decade?  It's a scarcely plausible fairy tale, filled with cliched one-note characters we barely get attached to because we're too busy blasting through shakily shot, jauntily edited, barely plausible anecdotes before reaching a suspense-free conclusion we not only know is inevitable, but we keep being told is inevitable. Just like the Coen Brothers and NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN, they're gonna give the award to the right person for the wrong film. No nominations for SHALLOW GRAVE, TRAINSPOTTING or 28 DAYS LATER, but this cleans up. Oscar is as Oscar does... 

Other than that, it's pretty straightforward, predictable stuff. Despite being a good film that misses out on greatness, THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON actually deserves most of its whopping 13 nominations; it is an absolute technical marvel, wonderfully acted by Brad Pitt and Taraji P. Henson, and (for the most part) beautifully directed. 

SOME STUFF I LIKED:

- As much as I should ideologically be on the other side, I'm ashamed to say I got a small kick out of THE DARK KNIGHT snub. Brings it all back down to earth a bit. 

- Michael Shannon's nomination for Supporting Actor. I haven't seen REVOLUTIONARY ROAD, but I really like this actor. Check out William Friedkin's BUG to see a virtuoso performance from Mr Shannon... in a psychological thriller, no less! 

- Melissa Leo's nomination. Again, I haven't seen FROZEN RIVER, but back in the 90s I was a huge Homicide: Life on the Street fan, in which Ms Leo was dynamite, amongst a crackerjack cast of accomplished character actors. So it's awesome to finally see her get her moment. (Same goes for Richard Jenkins, too.) 

- Best Director nominations for David Fincher and Danny Boyle, directors I've long loved and admired, respectfully.

- BURN AFTER READING getting shut out completely!!

And, to finish up, a weird stat: 

- Best Director nominee Stephen Daldry has made just three feature films (BILLY ELLIOT, THE HOURS and THE READER)... and he's snagged a Best Director nomination for all of them. 3-for-3 out of the gate. Apparently, this is a record. 

Soon... predictions for February 22/23 (depending which hemisphere you're inhabiting)!

Later,

TSIK

BITCHFEST '08: The Good, The Bad & The Underwhelming

Greetings, salutations and a massively Happy New Year to you all!!!

Yeah, yeah... I know I haven't written or called in months, but, hey... I've been... umm... Okay, so there's no real excuse. After promising at least one blog a month, I got lazy. Or maybe my epic 7 part MIFF roundup just wiped me out... I did start a couple of entries late in the year... but... nothing really inspired me.

So, it's both odd and ironic to me that the first blog I've been inspired to write in 2009 is about a wholly uninspiring year for movies. I'm sorry to add my voice to a well-sung chorus, but it's too hard to deny. I saw about 75 new films this year -- 45 at the Melbourne Film Festival -- and about 5 were exceptional, about 15-20 of them were pretty good. Not awesome, excellent, terrific... just... pretty good. (Okay, a handful were awesome.)

I've heard a ton of talk about this year being a great one for geekdom, and for films meeting their promise. While -- after a couple of drinks and some badgering -- you may get me to concur on the first point, I won't back down on the second. If anything, for me, this was the year of the overrated and the underrated -- whether slightly or massively. We had way too many films anointed as worldbeaters before their release, and too many bludgeoned to near-death at the same juncture. It's no coincidence two of my top four films of 2008 were actually 2007 releases we had to wait around for, leaving just one genuine 5 Star Film released worldwide in 2008. Of course, this is one dude's opinion... but, as I am the dude and this is my blog, you'll have to listen along for the time being.

Before we begin, a couple of things to look out for in 2009:

- The Assassination of Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer by the Not-Cowardly Moviegoing Public: If the names aren't familiar to you -- and there's no reason why they should be, believe me -- you'll know their "product": anti-creative, violently unfunny quickie "spoof" movies DATE MOVIE, EPIC MOVIE, MEET THE SPARTANS, DISASTER MOVIE... The last two were dropped on us in 2008, however Rothman's House of Quality (20th Century Fox) dropped them to Lionsgate after SPARTANS, and DISASTER proved exactly that, so maybe both the public and the moneymen are finally getting the message. I can just imagine the conversation: "Well, that DATE MOVIE and EPIC MOVIE were fine pictures, but MEET THE SPARTANS just lost the plot..."

- Who Will Be Watching The Watchmen?: I've got a feeling that the film we keep being told is "the most anticipated of 2008" may be just that for geeks, but nobody else. (I can't wait, so that gives you an idea of the target audience right there.) I looked at the trailer through the eyes of a non-geek and was totally baffled. Who are these unknowns in goofy looking suits brooding and running around to Smashing Pumpkins? The second, Muse-scored trailer makes it look like a dark superhero flick, but again questions are asked: Is that guy supposed to be Batman? Who are these people? There's no real sign of what this thing is actually about. Which makes me think it could be either 300 huge or The Spirit low. My pick is it comes in right in the middle, Sin City style. We'll see. But just I don't see it taking over the world.

All right, enough prattling. As with all heroic journeys of myth and legend, let's start at the bottom:

MY LEAST FAVOURITE FILMS OF 2008*
* No internet blogger's "Bottom 10" rant would be complete without this disclaimer: as I am not a critic, paid or otherwise, I am not sent passes nor bound to see any piece of flotsam thrown our way by creatively bankrupt studios out for a quick buck, or certain obtuse indie films with no interest whatsoever in engaging an audience, for that matter. So, for me, potentially craptacular flicks like MEET THE SPARTANS, DISASTER MOVIE, SUPERHERO MOVIE, MEET DAVE, THE LOVE GURU, THE HOUSE BUNNY, THE HAPPENING, MAX PAYNE, THE X-FILES: I WANT THIS TO END or 10,000 B.C. were mercifully absent from my viewing schedule. Didn't see a damn one, and I'm proud of it. So, I give you my "worst of the best"...

10. INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL
No movie packed with the creative juice of director Steven Spielberg, producer/storyliner George Lucas, screenwriter David Koepp and star Harrison Ford has any right to be this mediocre. It's a clunky, big-arse stab at a Big Summer Film, and we can only watch in horror as the latest installment of this iconic series barely rises to the level of its many imitators. I'll be upfront with you: I never wanted this project to happen. Why did we need this?? And seeing what a bang-up job Lucas did ushering STAR WARS into the 21st century, I didn't hold much hope for his other major property, and I was sadly vindicated. From the CGI gopher over the opening credits (what is this, CADDYSHACK?!?) to the everything-but-the-kitchen-sink chase sequences (standing on a jeep going over bumps and cliffs while swordfighting with Cate Blanchett... why did we need the hordes of monkeys??), from the stock-standard alien spaceship ending to the final scene with Indy, Marion and Shia LeBeouf... errrgghh, it's too icky (and improbable) to recount. Even with my initial reservations, and bar thusly lowered, this was a huge disappointment. Sadly, a US$780m box office take will only encourage them to elongate this farce further. Ugh.

9. AUSTRALIA
I'm sorry Baz, I had to. You really didn't give me much choice. I know it's made a bundle of money in Oz -- more out of mass curiosity, and a day-late dollar-short impulse to support our local industry, than anything else -- but it really is a massive folly. The good news is, it ain't all bad: for the most part, Baz does pull off the grand sweeping 1940s/50s melodrama -- in terms of look, feel and stupidity, anyway -- the cattle drive sequence is genuinely thrilling, and all of the performances (and that INCLUDES Nicole Kidman) are perfectly pitched for this sort of thing; everyone really rolls up their sleeves and has fun with it, and its fun to see so many Aussie actors getting prominent work in something so huge. In fact, if you view the film in a big, dumb, Old Hollywood fashion, you, too, can definitely have some fun with AUSTRALIA. That is, if it didn't cost a king's ransom, feature a kid who seems to be magic just because he's Aboriginal (aren't they all?) or a Chinaman named "Sing Song", or preach from the pulpit of Indigenous rights in the most patronising way possible (and, from what I've heard, muck about with history a fair bit, too). But it did, it does, and this all leaves a very sour taste in one's mouth. Ultimately, you have to take an in-or-out approach: remove your brain and have fun, or think for a second and be appalled.

8. BURN AFTER READING
No contest: THE most disappointing film of 2008. A classic best-of Coen Brothers cast -- with a couple of huge new additions -- the Brothers coming off a swag of Oscars and their most enigmatic film since BARTON FINK, and a return to the kind of dark caper comedy with which they made their considerable names. So how the hell did we end up with a film which is only sporadically funny, and so often wrongheaded in tone, that it ultimately sinks under the crushing weight of its own pointlessness?? The picture seems to exist only for the Coens to rail against all they hate -- bubble-headed gym buffoons, shady government agencies making "intelligence" an oxymoron, the vanity of our increasingly idiotic image-obsessed culture -- and end up with a mere diatribe from two grumpy old men, which is barely less vapid than the targets they aim to skewer. For the first time in a Coen film, the bursts of extreme violence seem inappropriate, the humour falls flat as often as it soars and, when the credits roll, it all matters not a jot. Joel, Ethan... what the fuck happened?!?

7. CHOKE
Another film I wanted to love, only to emerge afterward wanting the last 100 minutes of my life back. I'm an admirer of Clark Gregg as an actor -- I've enjoyed watching him pop up in everything from THE WEST WING to IRON MAN -- so I was intrigued to see how he'd fare as a writer-director, particularly as he'd decided to adapt Chuck Palahniuk's sophomore novel. Now, we've no right to expect another FIGHT CLUB -- CHOKE's budget is but a fraction of that film's -- but something better than a naughty midday movie would've been great. Gregg couldn't have directed this any flatter; it's shot and lit like a TV movie of the week, and the director loses all sense of the nihilistic, cockily apocalyptic tone which makes Palahniuk's novels so devastating and David Fincher nailed so thoroughly. A rest home full of randy old ladies loses any social context Palahniuk may have been going for and just feels like a creepy deleted scene from an Adam Sandler movie. CHOKE is thoroughly devoid of interesting imagery, suspension of disbelief or any real surprises. Even the great Sam Rockwell doesn't surprise, looking like he just wandered in from CONFESSIONS OF A DANGEROUS MIND. The actors are fine and there's a handful of amusing scenes, but this potentially incendiary story fails to catch fire, what with Gregg's direction sucking all the air out of it. Clark Gregg sure is a terrific actor, but he has a hell of a lot to learn about filmmaking.

6. 40x15: 40 YEARS OF THE DIRECTORS' FORTNIGHT
A French documentary about the turbulent events in 1968 which forced the Cannes Film Festival to create the Directors' Fortnight, which would showcase original cinematic voices the world over, and ultimately introduce or champion such filmmakers as Werner Herzog, Jim Jarmusch, George Lucas and Spike Lee, among many others. For film buffs, this shouldn't miss... and yet, it couldn't hit a barn door. Instead of giving us a palpable picture of the time, or of the rush of discovering all this creative talent, it seems content to wheel out a dry, flat, uninvolving parade of festival programmers and judges, occasionally interrupted from a blink-and-you'll-miss it sound bite from one of the directors mentioned earlier (a.k.a. somebody more interesting). A case of the slightly interesting made barely watchable; view this next to NOT QUITE HOLLYWOOD, and you'll get what I mean.

5. GOMORRAH
Who would've thought a tough and honest look at the modern day mafia -- from Italians, no less -- could possibly suck this hard?? A film so boring, static, drab and forgettable that it is, in fact, taking considerable strength on my part to just recall it, never mind type the words. There are too many uninteresting sketches of characters running around being appalling that there's absolutely nothing for the viewer to hook into. And I would've thought a film like this would've packed a little more testicular fortitude when it came to the violence, too; there's very little violence in the film, and when it does arrive, it's positively unaffecting. I vaguely remember jumping in horror once... in 135 minutes. A true-crime social drama like this should pack a mighty punch and shatter you on the way down, yet this overly sparse and self-important dirge achieves neither. Apparently this has won awards all over the world for its director Matteo Garrone, which either says something about how low festivals are setting the bar these days, or my personal taste. You be the judge.

4. MODS
Another gem I saw at MIFF. There's possibly nothing worse, in film anyway, than a filmmaker working so hard to be cool you can see the sweat stains. Now, make that filmmaker French, and let's say he thinks he's a Wes Anderson type. (It actually struck me as a film a Wes Anderson character would make. And, y'know, we'd be laughing at him.) By this point, I'm torn, between trying to muster up the enthusiasm to write this review, and taking a hatchet to the director (one Serge Bozon). This is just one pretentious, mannered, cloyingly "quirky" set-piece after another, scored by 1960s tunes as obscure as they are grating... making its scant 60 minute running time seem like 260. Oh hell... check out my MIFF review if you need to know more... *YAWN*... what's next?

3. DONKEY PUNCH
Somehow this low-IQ twentysomething paranoia fable made a bucketload of cash in its native UK... haven't the Brits seen a horror film for ten years, or are they just immedately drawn to anything where randy folks ship off to Ibiza and drop copious amounts of Ecs, plot be damned?? I can't explain it, because after watching a clutch of completely unlikeable prats set sail for a drug-&-sex-soaked sea trip, only to off each other out of sheer paranoia, I couldn't imagine why anyone would subject themselves to this witless, charmless and brainless "thriller" a second time. What's more, I've been hearing all this hype about director Olly Blackburn, how he's "arrived" as a major new voice in horror, and I gotta tell ya: I haven't seen a hit horror film directed quite so badly, in many a year. I mean, Eli Roth runs rings around this guy. All the gore scenes are shot in extreme closeup so you can never quite tell who or what is being cut/slashed/torn up; one loses sense of all geography. And then there's the "twists" you could see coming from miles out, and a complete lack of suspense -- because, crucially, from the get go, the viewer couldn't care less about any of the characters embroiled in this thing. They're all arrogant, shallow and thick as two short planks... which is DONKEY PUNCH in a nutshell.

2. INSIDE
Pushing the boundaries of gore is one thing, pushing the boundaries of patience is quite another. Memo to the friendly neighbourhood wannabe goremeisters Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury who crapped out this turgid exercise in -- I'm gonna say it! -- torture porn: if you're gonna go to all the trouble of getting that fake blood and flesh and gore... SHOOT THE PICTURE SO WE CAN FUCKING SEE IT. Turn a goddamn light on, any one. There, on the wall, is a switch. Just flick the fucking thing and we can all enjoy the depraved action you have planned for our evening. My god. Other than taking place in 85% pitch darkness, it's very one-note stuff, gets campy very quickly, and, but for the film's climactic scene -- the one reason this Gallic gorefest has any rep at all -- adds nothing new to the slasher/torture porn genre. Pointless, idiotic and, thanks to an obviously incapacitated gaffer, invisible waste of everyone's time... which is a shame, because it could've been a blast.

...and the worst film I saw in 2008...

1. WORDS OF ADVICE: WILLIAM S BURROUGHS ON THE ROAD
Remember when you were a kid, and you couldn't stand documentaries because they were all dry, static, boring as batshit and never discussed the stuff you really wanted to hear about? If so, take a nostalgia trip with WORDS OF ADVICE, and be transported back to a time when docos were rubbish, or stultifying filler plonked in front movies you actually wanted to see. A crudely shot, ineptly edited, how-long-is-a-piece-of-string puff piece which laboriously takes four or five interviews -- all bar two are with academics who never actually knew Burroughs and, I'm sad to say, even those two ain't that interesting -- and stretches them to snapping point. Wasn't Burroughs a fascinating man with implacable demons and a deliciously devious mind? You won't find that guy, or anything else remotely interesting, here. A ten-ton aluminium turd.

As the overriding theme of cinema in 2008 seemed, to me, to underrate or overrate pretty much everything to some extent, I thought I'd fill the space between my 10 Best and 10 Worst by giving my completely unsolicited opinion on the five most overrated and underrated films in between...

T.S.I.K'S MOST OVERRATED FILMS OF 2008*
* These aren't bad films, just flicks that critics and/or audiences really drank the Kool-Aid for, and I'm baffled as to why...

5. LET THE RIGHT ONE IN
The Swedish vampire drama, a soulfully executed but narratively flawed little film which is in danger of being strangled to death by its own hype. It's been popping up in prominent places on many critical and internet Top 10 lists, but what irks me is how much people are ejaculating about how it's the best vampire film in 20-30 years, and how it has revolutionised the genre, blah blah. It's actually a very cool film which does come from interesting angles, but people, take a breath. Seriously. It's not terribly scary, takes too many detours to pointless out-of-the-way third-string plotlines, and is basically the age-old classic tragic vampire romance with an age transplant. It doesn't reinvent the wheel.

4. SWEENEY TODD: THE DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET
Further example of why I'm finding it harder and harder to deal with Tim Burton's direction these days; this is all gorgeously cosmetically grey sets and costumes, all Bride of Frankenstein hairdos and fake blood, and I didn't buy this world for a second. At the risk of sounding repetitious or parrot-like, Burton opts for far too much style over substance, and isn't willing to let the film dive in to the horror, comedy or Broadway musical genres, choosing instead to go half-speed on all three. This results in a horror film that isn't scary (what's with the Monty Python blood spurts?), a comedy that's barely funny and a Broadway musical adaptation which packs style but little snap. Much too self-conscious for its own good.

3. SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE
This is being showered with all sorts of ejaculatory praise from the critical fraternity, and currently sits in the top 50 all-time favourite films of the IMDb crowd... and I just can't see what all the fuss is about. Yes, the story of an uneducated Mumbai "slumdog" who aims to clean up on Indian "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" for love, and the vignettes which inform his answers, is incredible indeed. But Danny Boyle's direction -- and normally I'm a HUGE Boyle fan -- is much too fast, too self-consciously "stylish", and too concerned with blasting its way through a string of fantastic (and, sometimes, barely plausible) anecdotes, to let us connect with its characters. We get to know Jamal a little, but what makes Latika so special to him? (We're almost being asked to love her just because she's a girl and, well, he's a boy, and why not, right?) Why is Salim, Jamal's brother, such a nutcase? And that's just the tip of the iceberg. We're being asked to accept a whole lot with such an outrageous story, so we shouldn't have to just accept an array of stock character tropes too. That's a lot to take on faith, and I'd prefer this film to meet me halfway.

2. THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY
Another allegedly devastating, life-changing film which just didn't connect with me. Again, it's an incredible story, and kudos for allowing our immobile lead character to be a prick for most of the picture, but it goes on far too many useless digressions, and ultimately pushes the sentimentality button strangely hard for a French film -- then again, the director is American. Even the clever device of seeing the world through the lead character's only moving part -- his eye -- isn't entirely new and revolutionary, not to mention his trip down memory lane, reassembling his life; there are films like JOHNNY GOT HIS GUN, THE SEA INSIDE and even old TWILIGHT ZONE episodes which has traversed similar terrain. Ultimately, this is a merely good film which wields its hand a tad heavy to be great.

1. BURN AFTER READING
See diatribe above.

T.S.I.K'S MOST UNDERRATED FILMS OF 2008*
* Conversely, these aren't all necessarily super-duper undiscovered gems of the cinema, just good, solid, highly enjoyable pictures critics and/or audiences really went out of their way to dump on, and, again, I'm baffled as to why...

5. THE INCREDIBLE HULK
You know what? It's big fun superhero action film, done the old-fashioned way -- albeit with some neat character work -- and I enjoyed the shit out of it. Okay, so casting Liv Tyler was a bad idea, and they should've kept Sam Elliott on, but Edward Norton is perfection, and who doesn't want to see Ed go mano-a-mano with Tim Roth?? A fine distillation of the comic book and the TV series, much more faithful than Ang Lee's Universal Monster movie, and not a giant bubble in sight.

4. SPEED RACER
The Wachowski Brothers set out to make a live-action anime film in every conceivable way -- from having human characters grunt and snarl at each other, to the design of garish prime-colour-soaked costumes, to having actors strike heroic poses, to the stunning colour palette and pristine visuals which infuse the film's every frame -- and succeed marvellously, as both spectacle and pop art. Even its daunting (and, admittedly, unnecessary) 135 minute running time skates by, feeling like 105 as colours and characters and situations and, yes, monkeys dart by you at an accelerated rate. Funnily enough, the Wachowskis let their left-wing flag fly once again, this time with a strong anti-corporation bent, and it actually works really well, fitting naturally into the story and not feeling as forced as, say, Baz Luhrmann's attempts at racial understanding in AUSTRALIA. A bubblegum, popcorn, big-screen Japanimation homage at its most purely fun and sugar-hyped.

3. ROCKNROLLA
Guy Ritchie is back doing what Guy Ritchie does, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Anyone expecting anything higher-minded from this guv'nor will not only get all the SWEPT AWAYs and REVOLVERs they deserve, because they neglect one crucial detail: Ritchie can pen and shoot a cocksure, tough-talking, piss-taking London comedy crime picture better than most, and seeing him work his old multi-stranding playground is a pleasure to behold. Slick, sharp, nutty as fuck and often amusing -- with the most charismatic Gerard Butler performance I've seen to date, coupled with a smashing breakout role for the excellent Mark Strong -- ROCKNROLLA does what it says on the box: it's a good, fun night out. Bring on THE REAL ROCKNROLLA!

2. TOWELHEAD
The critical reaction to Alan Ball's brilliantly discomfiting sexual and racial journey of a 13 year old Iraqi girl, based on the memoirs of Alicia Erian, seems to come down to, "Oh that's just Alan Ball doing what Alan Ball does." What they're missing, of course, is that he does it so damn well, and such searing, unfomfortable, messed-up private insight, that some people really don't know how to take him. Exploitative or honest? Soapy or perceptive? After loving (the now sadly slightly dated) AMERICAN BEAUTY and five years of SIX FEET UNDER, I found his directorial debut not only a successful continuation of the themes that have marked his career, but I think he's pushing himself further, getting even better. For taking on a genuine account of what it's like to be both a 13 year old girl and racially vilified in modern-day America alone (it's set during the first Gulf War, but the more things change...), the film deserves some credit. The fact that Ball does it with such tension, humour, detail and fearlessness is what makes him one of the most interesting and quietly provocative filmmakers in America today.

1. BE KIND REWIND
Just a great big gorgeous hug of a film: original, inspired, hilarious and seriously nice. More on that later...

And now... what you've all been waiting for (ie. you're closer to the end, and getting back to more important things to do)...

MY TOP 10 FAVOURITE FILMS OF 2008*
* Again with the disclaimers (this is the last one, I promise) but I have to admit, there are plenty of allegedly high quality films I didn't see last year: GONE BABY GONE, VICKY CRISTINA BARCELONA, LEATHERHEADS, BEFORE THE DEVIL KNOWS YOU'RE DEAD, CLOVERFIELD, THE COUNTERFEITERS, THE KING OF KONG, THE ORPHANAGE, PERSEPOLIS, SHINE A LIGHT, THE SQUARE, THE STRANGERS, TROPIC THUNDER, THE VISITOR or WALTZ WITH BASHIR. With that in mind, enjoy.

THE RUNNERS-UP:
MY WINNIPEG, TOWELHEAD, SON OF RAMBOW, THE BANK JOB, FROST/NIXON.

10. THE DARK KNIGHT
...and it should count itself lucky. From the outside, anyone who knows me would've thought this was The Movie Built For Me. Hell, my blogging name is a pisstake of the title. When the trailer first hit the 'net, I watched it at least once a day for three weeks. I craved this film in a big bad way, ever since Jim Gordon flipped that evidence bag at the end of BATMAN BEGINS. I'm not gonna pretend to strive for objectivity: I had massive expectations for this picture. So I bought my IMAX ticket and tried to feverishly dial down my expectations... and when the lights came up, I wasn't irrevocably changed, powerfully moved, or even terribly enthusiastic. While my friends sat in wonder, I was just... confused. Why was I not rocked? While it does much right, the film drags a little in the last third (as did BEGINS) and Chris Nolan again proves, while he has many, many gifts, directing action scenes is not one of them. While the Joker and Harvey Dent are perfection, Two-Face -- normally a conflicted soul coolly obeying the whims of his coin (and, thus, his dementia) -- became a thuggish sort who spent his screen time yelling. But it went deeper than that... I couldn't place it. I saw BEGINS three times in cinemas, but I didn't catch KNIGHT again until I unwrapped the DVD, Christmas night. After that viewing, I discovered two things: the film is SO much about the War On Terror and the world we live in today it's not funny -- and where it stands politically is a mystery, something I'm still trying to work through -- and I still can't place what my real problem with it is. The fact the the film keeps reiterating the theme of Batman being "the hero we need right now, not the hero we want", surveilling the entire city to find the Joker (who is often referred to as "a terrorist"), while resolving to look like the villain for now yet awaiting the day he will be vindicated... there's enough parallels with a certain ousted administration to send chills up my spine. It could in fact be social commentary, and I'm cool with that. But if there's another agenda... no, I refuse to believe that. THE DARK KNIGHT is certainly the most interesting comic book film ever, and yes, it may in fact be the HEAT of costumed hero pictures... yet, just like that terrific, sprawling crime drama, it isn't by any means perfect.

9. IRON MAN
The yin to DARK KNIGHT's yang. Sure, it doesn't reinvent the superhero film, as some people have claimed, but that was never the aim; director Jon Favreau has done nothing more or less than make the most entertaining comic book adaptation he could, polishing the genre to a shine without sacrificing action or intelligence, and succeeded majestically. Casting Downey as Stark is and shall remain an all-time, hall-of-fame match of actor and character, up there with Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones/Han Solo. He's THAT perfect. Jeff Bridges makes a fantastic villiain and -- shock! -- Gwyneth Paltrow is absolutely Charm Central as Stark's faithful secretary. (Terrence Howard, a fabulous actor, is good as Stark's buddy James Rhodes... but personally, I'm looking forward to Don Cheadle kicking it in the sequel.) The genius of the film is it starts in a place where the superhero flick never has, with a guy who charms the pants off us, but he's not all on the level as a person, a guy we almost want to see fall... because we can't wait to see him pick himself up, turn his life around and get in that damn suit. (The JERRY MAGUIRE of comic book films?) Once he starts mucking around with the suit, genre formula takes over, but that's fine with me... this flick earned it. Massive fun from beginning to end... and, yes, I mean the very end.

8. BE KIND REWIND
It must be something about number 8: just as BURN AFTER READING, the year's 8th worst movie, was my most disappointing, BE KIND REWIND is my pick for the most underrated film of 2008. Michel Gondry secured my viewing loyalty after his genius job on ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND, so I went to see this film, thinking the trailers looked amusing, but knowing it'd ultimately sink beneath quirk overload, as Gondry's SCIENCE OF SLEEP almost did. Man, was I way off the mark. This is the genuinely sweetest comedy I've seen in years. When so much of what passes for cinematic comedy today hinges on either embarrassment and put-downs or, alternatively, mawkish sentiment, it's awesome to see a film managing to be genuinely hilarious, smart and sweet, without ever feeling disingenuous or cynical. Jack Black is in terrific form, wisely deciding not to channel John Belushi this time around (maybe Jonah Hill grabbed the ouija board that day), and Mos Def is proving to be quite a versatile actor. However, the star of the show here is Gondry: his writing is improving, but his visual virtuosity is something to behold. And it's all so seamless, you'll be out of the theatre an hour when it'll suddenly occur to you, "hey, that scene was all one shot..." He's a genuine cinematic artist, with a child's wonder at the world; a wonder which sustains BE KIND REWIND's nutty concepts and makes them whole.

7. WALL-E
While we're on genuinely sweet pictures, I present to you Pixar's latest triumph. A terrific film with interesting (and, I'm sure for much of the American public, confronting) things to say about where humanity are going as a race. As purely gorgeous (in every way) as any film I've seen this year, with real heart, a fully functioning brain and Pixar's patented storytelling skill on display. It has been somewhat overpraised by a hyperbole-happy media, but manages to back most of it up. It does have its flaws (why is there a live-action president??), but it remains a strong feather in the Pixar cap, which must be ready to sprout wings soon enough. The irony of a wholly computer-generated story about a lonely robot being arguably the most human film of the year is not lost on me, but it is much appreciated.

6. LARS AND THE REAL GIRL
I must be getting soft in my old age, as there's far too many nice, sweet and/or beautiful films in this year's chart. LARS' emotional beauty knocked me for six, and from such an unlikely premise, I had no right to expect it. Kudos to writer Nancy Oliver and director Craig Gillespie (whose only other credit is MR WOODCOCK, of all things), who fashion what could've been a self-important, laughable curio into a massively affecting, and often hilarious, film. The acting -- from Ryan Gosling in the title role (Lars, not the real girl -- but she's surprisingly effective, too!) to Paul Schneider and Emily Mortimer as his family and Patricia Clarkson as his doctor -- is tremendously good. The film is so beautifully understated, so gorgeously real, it can't help but hit all the right notes. By far, the funniest, sweetest and most emotionally honest film about a man and his sex toy you'll ever see.

5. TRUMBO
All I knew about Dalton Trumbo coming in was history's coverage: he was a Hollywood screenwriter blacklisted during the McCarthy senate witchunt trials of the mid-1950s, until he was hired by Kirk Douglas to pen SPARTACUS, thus reintroducing this major talent back into the Tinseltown community. What I didn't know was, the man possessed a love for, and command of, the English language and its permutations which may even put Aaron Sorkin to shame, a talent surpassed only by his sense of humanity and decency. Based on a stage play written by his son, which quotes verbatim many of Dalton Trumbo's personal letters to all and sundry, this documentary features interview footage with his relatives and friends, interspersed with a classy assortment of movie stars (from Michael Douglas to Nathan Lane, from Joan Allen to Dustin Hoffman) reading from Trumbo's letters, in character. The missives range from complete hilarity to humble tragedy, and the wordplay is dazzling. It's a simple device which proves hugely effective as it cuts to the heart of the man's talent, and the compassion at the man's core. What the HUAC senate hearings did to his life will break your heart, but Trumbo's wit and fire burned bright, and that is what remains.

4. JUNO
Simply, JUNO is one of those rare occasions where all the stars align, where everyone involved is working at the top of their game, to tell a what looks to be a fairly innocuous story absolutely perfectly. I really didn't expect this film to be so genuinely witty, so emotionally observant, so bang-on funny and so powerfully sad. Any one of these things would've been sufficient, but JUNO pulls all four with aplomb and you don't even see the strings. The cast are exemplary, the direction is note-perfect, the writing represents a genuine new voice, the soundtrack is fabulous, the costume design is inspired... I could go on like this all day, but the fact is, I couldn't tell you a single thing, a single moment, this film botches. When it was funny, I laughed like a loon; when it turned sad, I bawled like a child. In a time when so many films are almost-great, or heading to brilliance before driving off a third-act cliff, it's truly impressive to see a picture where everything is Goldilocks: just right.

3. [REC]
Step one: fuck QUARANTINE, the inappropriately star-studded US ripoff of this Spanish scarefest. Do exactly what the title implies; isolate it and destroy it. Step two: rent [REC] and watch it somewhere dark and quiet, with lots of friends (with strict instructions they don't talk all over the thing). Step three... Prepare to be scared out of your skull. Soak up the pure breathless intensity of the piece, and be blown away. Then, come back a second time, where you'll begin to notice how incredibly artful it is, what a technical marvel the real-time hand-held first person horror film can be, and note the raft of primal fears it touches upon. It's the Great White Shark of low-budget Spanish horror films, it's a scarily well-engineered fright machine, and damn near a masterpiece.

2. NOT QUITE HOLLYWOOD
Documentaries aren't supposed to be this entertaining. They're worthy first-hand accounts of times and places and, if you're lucky, they're done with enough filmmaking prowess to prevent you from thinking you've just tuned into SBS on a bigger screen. They're not supposed to be better and more wildly entertaining than any feature film released that year... but other documentaries aren't NOT QUITE HOLLYWOOD. From the opening -- kicking off with the old Aussie drive-in intro to the explosively colourful opening credits montage scored to Rose Tattoo's rough-house anthem "We Can't Be Beaten" -- this one grabs you by the face and doesn't let go. I've never seen a documentary more effectively illustrate the time and place it takes in; the music and the graphics are sublime, and for me, it's edited better than any other film this year. There are montages in this film where the images selected, the music backing them, the sequence in which they're laid out, are just so rousing and irresistable you're ready to either a) grab a camera right now and make your own Ozploitation picture, or b) just have a cinematic orgasm. But all of this would be for nothing if the subject were dull, or the interview subjects flat, but that's the joy: everyone is so open and honest -- for good or bad -- about the films and each other, that it's pure bliss, insightful and loaded with candour... as well as displaying a uniquely Australian intolerance for bullshit. Director Mark Hartley has such affection for his subject, and is, helpfully, such a talented filmmaker, his enthusiasm leaps off the screen, throws down the gauntlet and issues a call to arms for young Aussie filmmakers to pick up the genre mantle. It's both the most exciting syllabus ever and an inspiration. I can't remember the last time I loved an Australian film this much, and I'm stoked to finally be able to say that.

...and my favourite film of 2008 is...

1. THERE WILL BE BLOOD
It seems like so long ago now (I saw this in February), but Paul Thomas Anderson's scorching American epic still leaves a mark that stings. Ostensibly an intense character study of the emotional isolation and state of mind of one Daniel Plainview, oil tycoon and heavyweight champion bastard, played -- scratch that, inhabited -- by Daniel Day Lewis like it's the last role he'll ever play, leaving nothing behind. But it's also one of the very best films about America's identity, about the eternal struggle between capitalism and religion and the corruption bred by both, ever forged. It's men like Plainview who led us to where we are today -- and by "us", I mean the world entire, from the War On Terror to Global Warming. It's a departure in many ways for Anderson, who built a career on dialogue-heavy, multi-stranding ensemble pieces, but there are still glimmers of the PTA we know and love that shine through: dysfunctional father-son relationships, damaged characters taking solace in rage... Make no mistake, though: this is the new Paul Thomas Anderson, version 2.0. His first four films are uniformly excellent character studies which brushed up against greatness, but TWBB achieves it. From the nerve-shredding intensity of Jonny Greenwood's score, to cinematographer Robert Elswit's Oscar-winning rough landscapes of the soul, everything about this film is right on the money, building up to one of the greatest and most wicked endings in cinema history. At the very least, PTA may be our generation's Martin Scorsese. At the most, well... the sky's the limit, and I cannot wait to see what he's gonna do next.

Bring on 2009, he says, with the unquenchable optimism of a child, and all the cinematic visions it may unleash. Thanks for reading, happy watching, and have a fabulous year.

TSIK

THOROUGHLY MIFFED - PART VI: TEN FILMS TALL AND BULLETPROOF

Previously, on THOROUGHLY MIFFED...

THE RETROSPECTIVES:
9. WR: MYSTERIES OF THE ORGANISM
8. DEAD END DRIVE-IN
7. SPIDER BABY (DIRECTOR'S CUT)
6. JACK'S WIFE
5. TURKEY SHOOT
4. FOX AND HIS FRIENDS
3. KNIGHTRIDERS
2. ROADGAMES
1. MAD MAX 2: THE ROAD WARRIOR

THE COUNTDOWN FROM 50 to 11:
50. WORDS OF ADVICE: WILLIAM S BURROUGHS ON THE ROAD
49. ETOILE VIOLETTE (short)
48. INSIDE
47. DONKEY PUNCH
46. GOMORRAH
45. MODS
44. 40X15: 40 YEARS OF THE DIRECTORS' FORTNIGHT
43. MIFF FOOTY SHORTS
42. LITTLE DEATHS
41. THE PLEASURE OF BEING ROBBED

40. IDIOTS AND ANGELS
39. DEAD ON: THE LIFE & CINEMA OF GEORGE A ROMERO
38. REVERSE SHOT - REBELLION OF THE FILMMAKERS
37. ACCELERATOR PROGRAM 1 (shorts)
36. SURVEILLANCE
35. IN SEARCH OF A MIDNIGHT KISS
34. ASHES OF TIME REDUX
33. NIGHTWATCHING
32. SUKIYAKI WESTERN DJANGO
31. ACCELERATED FICTION SHORTS

30. WENDY AND LUCY
29. CELEBRITY: DOMENICK DUNNE
28. BRANDO
27. REDACTED
26. LET THE RIGHT ONE IN
25. OLD FISH
24. BEST MIFF SHORTS
23. LA ANTENA
22. SEVEN DAYS SUNDAY
21. DIARY OF THE DEAD

20. TRIANGLE
19. WEST 32ND
18. THE GUITAR
17. ROCK 'N ROLL NERD
16. ACOLYTES
15. MAN ON WIRE
14. LIONEL
13. GONZO - THE LIFE & WORK OF HUNTER S THOMPSON
12. CALIFORNIA DREAMIN' (ENDLESS)
11. JESUS CHRIST SAVIOUR

...and, now that you're all caught up... Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...


THE TOP TEN:

10. ENCOUNTERS AT THE END OF THE WORLD
In another of the embarrassing gaps in my life as a film buff, I'd never actually seen a Werner Herzog picture; not GRIZZLY MAN, or the Kinski fever dreams, nothing. After my friend Lee went ape over Herzog's last two MIFF-screeners, WILD BLUE YONDER and RESCUE DAWN, I thought this might be a good place to start, and I wasn't disappointed. It wasn't a foregone conclusion: I found it a bit slow to launch, and a little heavy on the scientific gear early on (never a draw for me), but once he starts focusing on the people rather than their professional purpose, the film gets interesting, entertaining... and finishes up mesmerising. Springing from a longtime interest in Antarctica, Herzog decided to fly to the icy continent and apply his eye for behavioural nuance and eccentricity to how society works at what is, literally, the end of the Earth. What he finds there are heavy-machinery-driving philosophers, gay penguins, volcanologists, suicidal penguins, and a grown woman who can fit in a small suitcase. Among others. Herzog shoots and narrates with his hilariously dry German wit, which would be almost condescending if we didn't know already that he, too, is a near-certifiable eccentric. These are his people. He's critical of some of the more commercial developments of these outpost stations, and while he may poke a little gentle fun at the people who live there, you get the strong impression he feels a kinship to these outsiders of society, who've sought a form of peace and satisfaction in the furthest place possible from, well, anywhere. Then, once we've wandered this world, Herzog's camera goes beneath it, into the sub-sub-zero waters beneath the ice, down amongst glacial structures which will make your eyes explode at their stunning, truly otherworldly beauty. This underwater footage is awesomely, breathtakingly, powerfully gorgeous, and utterly hypnotic in its natural splendour, reminding us that, just when we think we've seen every corner of this wonderful planet before, there's always further wonder to discover -- and further evidence that it's worth striving to save.

9. ROMAN POLANSKI: WANTED AND DESIRED
You've heard it all a thousand times -- famed director shtupps a minor and flees the US before he can be prisoned -- but this documentary is the first time we've gotten the chance to really listen. While never excusing Polanski his sexual misdeed, Marina Zenovich's documentary shows -- with present-day interviews from all sides of the case: both prosecution and defense lawyers, the victim, both friends and foes -- how a controversial case played out to conclusion time and again in the courts, only to be resurrected time and again and turned into a trial by media. One thing I didn't know about the case: Polanski actually took his medicine. He served the time the court originally recommended, in a genuine, military-style correctional psychiatric facility -- we're not talking the Betty Ford Center here -- but upon release, the media kept pushing and pushing the judge (an overly media-savvy type, and they knew it) beyond the point of everyone else involved with the case -- and that includes the victim's family. Like all such matters, nothing is as cut and dried as it seems, with almost every angle of the case, from the guilty to the innocent, subject to serious question. Riveting stuff, surprisingly level-headed and even-handed, and let me tell you something: if I was in Polanski's shoes, I would've fled the country when he did, too. Serving judicial punishment is part of your societal contract as a human being... serving as a sacrificial lamb for a hungry, venal media is quite another thing entirely.

8. THE WACKNESS
Jonathan Levine's somewhat autobiographical drama about a teenage dope dealer's summer of awakening in mid-90s NYC arrives with much hype and many awards, some of which are deserved, some, well, not. (It left with one too: it won the MIFF Audience prize for Best Feature Film.) It's a flashy little film, in terms of pace, dialogue, situations and eccentric performances, but isn't nearly as brilliant and revelatory as it thinks it is. It is undeniably entertaining, however, most notably due to the presence of Sir Ben Kingsley as a distinctly odd man-child of a psychiatrist, who rampantly steals every scene he's in and, ultimately, the movie. The film's other standouts are Josh Peck, as our protagonist, who trades marijuana to his psychiatrist (Kingsley) for sessions, and Olivia Thirlby (last seen in JUNO) as Kingsley's step-daughter... and the girl Peck falls for. Thirlby is fantastic, she's not only spunky but has this huge sharp New York charm going for her... Okay, I'm gonna say something that'll sound outrageous, but bear with me. I'm not building hype, or saying they're the same, or have the same range, or making any predictions, I'm just saying exactly what the words state: I think Thirlby's got a little Kate Hepburn in her. There, I said it. Just that smart mouth, stylish look and certain insouciance emblematic of those on the East Coast island. Either way, she's one to watch for, as is Peck, and they both bounce off Kingsley beautifully. THE WACKNESS won't change your life and doesn't have the indie snap anywhere near the level of, say, JUNO, but it will show you a good time.

7. ANVIL! THE STORY OF ANVIL
Okay, I have to confess something here. By all accounts, this is a real documentary and Anvil are a real band... but I'm still not sure if I buy it. It's all a little too perfect: two lifelong friends in a SPINAL TAP-esque metal band sliding into their early fifties, writing songs since their teens, now bickering amongst themselves, working crappy day jobs and wondering how much further they can push this "for the music", and the bass player's name is Robb Reiner for chrissakes (one more B than required, sure, but you get the picture). But, I'm assured they're real, and their story is real, so I approached it as such. And, as shown by director Sacha Gervasi, it's hilarious, horrifying, heavenly stuff. The catalyst for the story is this: they haven't recorded an album in years, over a decade since they did so under truly professional conditions, and are at the one-last-shot end of their rope. But when a rabid fan from Eastern Europe -- where Anvil apparently have a following -- offers them a chance to tour the continent, could it all change...? It sounds like a cliche, but this really takes you on an emotional rollercoaster, equal parts absurdly funny, tragic and poignant; I have to confess, of the 59 films I saw at MIFF this year, this was one of only two which made me shed a tear. A balls-out terrific film.

6. SOMERS TOWN
I've never seen any films from director Shane Meadows, responsible for last year's acclaimed MIFF closing film THIS IS ENGLAND, among others, so I decided to check out this sharp, charming and stunningly economical (72 minutes long!) look at a friendship between two mismatched boys in the eponymous rough & tumble English suburb. Meadows brings back his ENGLAND star Thomas Turgoose to play Tommo, a teenager who we first meet on a train trip from another town, ostensibly having fled his home. Tommo has a touch of the opportunistic con artist in him, but is otherwise an ingratiating kid who'll talk to anybody and go anywhere to escape his solitary life and find fun. Upon arrival in Somers Town, he meets Marek, a softly-spoken Polish immigrant living with his construction worker father, and they bond over a shared interest in French waitress Marie, whom they're both smitten with. This is largely simple storytelling, essentially following these lads as they get into rather harmless (though occasionally criminal) mischief and learn to grow up a little, but shot in starkly glorious black and white, with three extremely winning leads and Meadows' eye for behaviour and grip on reality makes it all the more involving and heartfelt. The film never wastes a second, the ending has a beautiful ambiguity to it, and its slim running time makes you wish more films could pack compelling relationships, atmospheric surrounds and a sweet, well-rounded story into 72 minutes. On the strength of this, I'll be checking out Meadows' back catalogue, sharpish.

5. MY WINNIPEG
Discovery. This is why we buffs love MIFF. You go in wanting to see something you haven't seen before, sample the works of acclaimed/cult filmmakers you know only by reputation, or revel in the culture of other nations. Seeing so many films, I barely had time to register, but upon reflection I discovered a lot at MIFF 2008: Tim Minchin, Werner Herzog, Shane Meadows, how much I really loved George A Romero, how much I really don't like modern French cinema... and joining this list, with a bullet, is Canadian eccentric Guy Maddin. My pals on The Bazura Project fell in love with this seemingly free-associative maniac at different junctures: Lee with last year's BRAND UPON THE BRAIN! and Shannon with Maddin's short THE HEART OF THE WORLD, which he considers the best short film he's ever seen. If you're not familiar with Maddin's work, he's across a trio of all-conquering obsessions: silent cinema, ice hockey and his hometown of Winnipeg, Canada. His style could possibly be described as David Lynch-meets-Georges Melies-meets-The Coens-meets-F W Murnau-meets... ah, forget it. As I found after seeing MY WINNIPEG, his extremely-pseudo-documentary valentine to his home, Guy Maddin's style is undeniably... Maddinesque. While his influences are far, wide and recognisable, the man isn't like anyone else. Some people consider this a documentary, but I wouldn't: it's more an adaptation of memory into unhinged feature form. The opening was a little rocky, and after the first 5-10 minutes, my hackles rose... it felt pretentious, arty, overly obscure, and had me thinking, "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" Now, if you find yourself in this situation: for god's sake, STAY. Just as quickly, the film hooks you into its worldview and you're being treated to one of the most hilarious, original, bollocks-bustingly brilliant films you've seen in many an age. The anecdotes he brings up about Winnipeg, and the spins he puts on them, are so nuttily surreal, you'll be begging to know how much is fact or fiction. Maddin will never tell, of course, although one gets the sense that, to him, this is exactly how it all happened. And his silent film-style title cards, which barge into scenes at comically explosive moments, are a scream. If you find yourself moaning about the lack of originality in cinema these days, track this down immediately.

4. SON OF RAMBOW
This brilliantly affectionate memoir of childhood, early 1980s England, movies, making movies and making mischief comes to us from writer-director Garth Jennings and producer Nick Goldsmith, otherwise known as music video/commercial auteurs Hammer and Tongs. The opening credits sequence is fabulous, instantly setting up the world and providing the perfect introduction to our protagonists, smart, polite, sheltered Brethren kid Will (Bill Milner) and boisterous, scheming, cheeky misfit Lee (Will Poulter). The two meet outside the school principal's office with Lee bullying Will into being a "stuntman" (read: human crash test dummy) for his film, which he's shooting with his older brother's video camera, normally used for taping films off cinema screens and pirating them. This leads to Will, a kid possessed with a big imagination but never allowed to watch TV, seeing a copy of FIRST BLOOD. He becomes obsessed with it and hatches a great idea for a film... While threatening to tip the cute-o-meter at times, it never goes overboard, due to the genuine affection the filmmakers have for their characters and their setting (apparently based loosely on Jennings' experiences as a kid), the pure energy and DIY spirit the film maintains at all times (and a flat-out brilliant homage to Truffaut's DAY FOR NIGHT) and the fantastic performances from Milner and, particularly, Poulter as the kids. SPACED fans will welcome the sight of Jessica Stevenson/Hynes (credited under her maiden name here) playing Will's strict Brethren worshipping mother, and she's terrific. SON OF RAMBOW is a rare family-skewing comedy: it's sweet without condescension, satirical without animosity and entertaining without reservation. See it.

3. TRUMBO
To explore the life screenwriter Dalton Trumbo, the most famed member of the "Hollywood Ten" (for those who don't know: during the 1950s a group of ten writers, producers and directors were blacklisted from the industry for the mere suspicion of attending Communist information meetings, and not dobbing in other possible attendees, during the witchhunt-style senate committee hearings run by the odious Senator Joseph McCarthy, and lost their careers and livelihoods for the sake of nothing but rampant government paranoia. Now, back to the show...), his son, playwright Christopher Trumbo, came up with a novel idea: he wrote a play which consisted of a clutch of actors reading, in character, his father's letters. It's a novel idea because Trumbo the younger knew better to stand back and give full vent to his dad's greatest weapon: his beautiful, magnificent words. This film documentary adaptation, gracefully directed by Peter Askin, assembles some of America's most talented actors (Liam Neeson, David Strathairn, Nathan Lane, Paul Giamatti, Michael Douglas, Brian Dennehy, Josh Lucas and even Joan Allen, among others) to perform the letters, interspersed with fond accounts from Trumbo's family members, friends and co-workers (such as Kirk Douglas and Dustin Hoffman). It's a simple yet classy and undeniably powerful tribute to a compassionate, funny and flat-out brilliant man; his letters (and archive footage of the man himself) show his astounding command of the English language -- with phrasing and wordplay matched by few, if any, American screenwriters this side of Aaron Sorkin -- as well as his utter honesty and humanity, making the senseless tragedy of the blacklist, and what it did to Trumbo and his friends, so much more heartbreaking. It's beautifully shot, skillfully edited and wonderfully acted; when it's not evoking genuine poignancy, it's being laugh-out-loud funny (hearing Nathan Lane reading Trumbo's letter to his son Christopher concerning the fine art of masturbation is one of the greatest things I've seen and heard this year) and always entertaining. Upon leaving this film, my friend Tim stated he wouldn't have a problem if it went for another two hours, and I couldn't agree more.

2. [REC]
Ohhhh yeah. Every year, MIFF manages to pull one genuine kick-arse horror flick out of the bag, and as good as those from past years have been -- SEVERANCE, THE DESCENT, WOLF CREEK, HAUTE TENSION, et al -- few have kicked my arse quite this hard. You see, the Spanish scarefest [REC] is the film I felt THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT should've been, and am both shocked and gratified that it took someone nine whole years to get around to making it. The setup is simple, then I shall say nothing else: A TV reporter and her cameraman are doing a puff piece on night shift at a fire station. It's all mundane until a routine call sends them to an apartment building, where a peculiar virus has broken out and anything resembling routine is blown to hell... This is 79 wonderfully brisk, visceral minutes of OH MY GOD!!! All sound and vision is recorded through the lens and mic of the lensman's news camera, and this device is used near-perfectly (there are one or two quick moments where the conceit is briefly betrayed, but it's blink-and-you'll-miss-it stuff) as the tension is expertly piled on and on and on by my new writer-directors-to-watch Jaume Balaguero and Paco Plaza (co-written with Luis Berdejo), building up to some of the most brilliant reveals you'll ever see. While it may not sport the most original concept, it simply succeeds where many horror films have failed: it remains tight and tense at all times, none of the characters are arseholes for the sake of the plot, everyone acts and reacts logically as can be under the circumstances (okay, save for one scene), and -- I can't stress this enough -- it gets the "verite" device dead right. Please, whatever you do, see this with a crowd, somewhere dark, with big picture and sound cranked up loud. It's made to be immersed in, to feel as real as possible, and unlike the cinematic con job that was BLAIR WITCH, it wouldn't dare rip you off... The filmmakers are having waaaaay too much fun scaring your pants off to dream of it. THE most purely fun cinematic experience of MIFF 2008.


...and now, my favourite film of MIFF 2008 is... (was there ever a doubt?).....................


1. NOT QUITE HOLLYWOOD
Of all the films I saw at MIFF 2008, this was the one which had the most effect on me, which pulled open my irises, which made me alive to possibilities. Because -- make no mistake -- NOT QUITE HOLLYWOOD could well be the catalyst which changes the Australian film industry for the next few decades. I sincerely believe it has that kind of power. But more on that later... I flipped when I heard this film was being made, when I heard it was MIFF's Opening Night film, when I saw the pumped-up, grab-thou-by-thy-nuts trailer... So, naturally, despite my best efforts to dial down my expectations and keep a lid on my enthusiasm, you can ascertain my reaction to seeing the final product. Mark Hartley's documentary, make no mistake, is a brilliant piece of work. It's everything a documentary should be: fast, absorbing, thrillingly alive, full of killer anecdotes from both key players and those most influenced or enthusiastic, snappily edited to a scorching soundtrack and, most of all, absolutely evocative of the period, the subject and the excitement which fueled it all. (How many documentaries demand repeat viewings??) Hartley knows why we should be interested, and shows us in grand style, but the heart of his film is a call to arms: it may ostensibly be a valentine to devil-may-care cinematic rogues making rough randy and ready exploitation flicks in this brown, wide, crazy country, but it's really showing us the heart, blood, piss and vinegar that once powered the Australian film industry, which we've since lost, and asking the simple question: Isn't it time for Ozploitation, version 2.0? And we return to my earlier point, which is, this film is designed to work on two levels: as a memoir for those who were there, who dug it or derided it the first time around, and as a mission statement for up-and-coming Aussie filmmakers who have longed to make wild, violent, fast, furious, nutty-as-fuck genre pictures in their home country, to craft widescreen terrors or titillation spoken in their own accent. I could go on about everything that glitters in this flick -- the wonderfully animated opening credits sequence backed by explosions and Rose Tattoo's "We Can't Be Beaten"; Quentin Tarantino's genuinely massive enthusiasm for and startling knowledge of Aussie genre cinema, even the most obscure titles, not to mention his terrific observations; Brian Trenchard-Smith's horror stories surrounding the making of THE MAN FROM HONG KONG; the forever curmudgeonly Bob Ellis disparaging everything in sight; and so much more -- but I think this film's ultimate worth will be as a call to revolution, to inject Australian low-budget cinema with the visceral genre-driven charge it's been so sadly missing for nigh on two decades. Mr Hartley, I thank you, I agree wholeheartedly and I'm signing the hell up. [cue Russian revolution choral music here] For the rest of you non-filmmaker audiences, just see it: it's brilliant, bawdy, bold, boisterous and bloody funny.


Well, it's been an epic journey, but hopefully an enjoyable one to read. If I have one hope in all this, one dream... it's my sincere hope I haven't bored you all shitless.

Thanks for reading, tell your friends, and farewell to thee, spanish ladies.


Music swells, fade to black, cue credits...


THE END.


"THE SLIGHTLY ILLUMINATED KNIGHT WILL RETURN IN MIFF 2009"

THOROUGHLY MIFFED - PART V: AT LONG LAST LOVE

Not much farther to go now... and bring yer shades: things get a little sunnier from here on in!

20th - TRIANGLE

The plan is simple, yet complex: one of Hong Kong's most famed action directors (let's call him Tsui Hark) concocts a heist picture, directing the first half hour... only to hand it over to another, equally legendary action auteur (say, Ringo Lam) who does the same for the next half hour, going to town, contriving all sorts of problems... which are to be solved by action legend #3 (played here by Johnnie To) in the last half hour. With the players are set, the game is afoot. Will they pull it off? Well, first, I have an embarrassing admission: I missed the first 17 minutes of this film, so I may not be the best judge, given I missed the crucial setup. However, the fact that I not only made head nor tail out of what followed, but really enjoyed it, can only work in the picture's favour, right? I've noticed since that this roundtable exercise in old-school HK action mayhem had a lukewarm reception from the fanbase, but I enjoyed the hell out of it for the exact same reason most of these people didn't: it's a total throwback to early 1990s HK action cinema, when Lam and Tsui were busting it up and emptying billions of bullets upon the screens of cult movie devotees like yours truly, before the American studios ripped everything off. It seemed to me, other than the introduction of mobile phones, TRIANGLE makes absolutely no attempt to be a 21st century heist film. I've been saddened by the gradual decline of Hong Kong action cinema, crushed by the raging cinematic storm from South Korea. Maybe I'm not seeing the right flicks, but since the INFERNAL AFFAIRS trilogy wrapped up, nothing to come out of HK has excited me. But let me be abundantly clear: TRIANGLE isn't the saviour -- there's way too many characters and not everything holds together -- but rather, a valentine. A jolt to remind me why I fell in love with Hong Kong genre cinema, way back in '93 (yes, I had to discover them all on SBS TV and thus arrived later than all you hardcore HK buffs, fuck you), and for that I'm eternally grateful to Tsui, Lam and To, once and forever masters of their domain. Now if only they'd pried John Woo from Hollywood complacency to join them... sigh.

19th - WEST 32ND

Ever wondered what John "Harold" Cho of HAROLD & KUMAR, ETC (lazy referencing, I know, but much better than calling him John "Mom I Love To Fuck" Cho) would be like as the lead in a US/South Korean crime drama? Well, wonder no more: catch yourself some WEST 32ND! Seriously, he's very good here, playing an ambitious New York lawyer doing some pro bono work, for a Korean immigrant family whose son has been accused of killing a Koreatown nightclub owner. While he feels some duty to his heritage -- not to mention the boy's very attractive older sister -- he really has a feeling this case might make him partner of his firm. Finding out the truth means getting to Mike, the leader of the kid's gang, who may or may not have put him up to it. Plunged into the criminal underbelly of NY's Koreatown, John (he's also called that in the film) finds himself in exploring a side of his culture completely alien to him, and finds in Mike an unexpectedly kindred spirit. Directed and co-written by Korean-American Michael Kang, the film is slick, fast, pretty and always engaging, and doesn't waste one of its economical 86 minutes. Sure, it's not without cliches, but the unique Koreatown setting, the terrific performances and Kang's focus on character elevate it somewhat. The ending seemed strange to me at first, but upon reflection I found it actually wrapped up rather smartly, and darkly, which is always a nice bonus. A tight, effective little flick.

18th - THE GUITAR

This tale of a young woman, stricken with throat cancer, who emerges from the worst day of her life -- she loses her job, breaks up with her boyfriend, and is informed she has a month to live -- hell bent on living her life to the fullest by loading up on credit cards and buying all the comforts she always wanted but could never have. This feature directorial debut for Amy Redford (daughter of you-know-who) is an occasionally implausible, feather-light fable on one hand, and a fantastic showcase for star Saffron Burrows on the other. Mainly due to Burrows' winning, almost childlike performance, the film is an entertaining, genuinely sweet tale with some intriguing stuff going on under the surface, as Burrows' character breaks taboos at the same speed she acquires objects. Redford doesn't quite nail the tone all the way through, as the film very much starts in a place of reality, then switches sharply to something more like, well, a movie. Interestingly, the picture feels very much like an extended student film, with some scenes running a little too long, a general lack of polish in regard to editing and storytelling, even its emphasis on one character and (mostly) one location. This cuts both ways, however, providing a slight hinderance yet adding to its charm. It's great to see a movie using Burrows this well -- the girl really can act -- and being a film with a woman front and centre that rarely surrenders to "woman's movie" cliches. Charming stuff.

17th - ROCK 'N ROLL NERD

Before MIFF, I knew just three things about Tim Minchin: his name, his deranged glare (seen from posters around the city during the Melbourne Comedy Festival) and the fact his comedy was musical in nature. In addition to what I knew, I had also heard he was pretty great, so I thought this rise-and-rise documentary might provide an excellent introduction to the man. Once I heard the opening verse to his song ROCK 'N ROLL NERD, and found it seemed to be describing me, I knew I would be rewarded; you can bet your last dollar when Minchin comes back to town, I'm buying a ticket. This documentary has the fortunate grace to be made by a friend of the comedian, Rhian Skirving, who has captured that rare beast: a star rising from the ground up. The film literally begins with handycam footage of Minchin playing a tiny Melbourne venue, followed by candid footage of him at home, planning the embryonic stages of his career, and goes from there. As the film follows Minchin performing his first Melbourne Comedy Festival show to the high-pressure stakes of the Edinburgh Festival and back again for his highly anticipated follow-up, you would think the film would grow sycophantic and cloying, but it's remarkably even-handed. Skirving just sits back, following Minichin with his camera through all moods -- even when the subject grows annoyed -- highs and lows and captures some amazing moments. Ever wondered what it would be like to be a comedy festival sensation and be courted by promoters and agents? You'll find it all here, in absorbing detail. In addition to the narrative, there's plenty of concert footage to illustrate what all the fuss is about. One particular sequence, which details the genesis, development and first performance of the sophomore show's signature song, SO F**KING ROCK, is balls-out brilliant, and I guarantee the song will be bouncing around your head when you leave the theatre. A treat for both Minchin fans or, like me, those new to his charms, this is a riveting fly-on-the-wall experience.

16th - ACOLYTES

I, for one, am excited that Australian filmmakers and -- more significantly -- Australian funding bodies are rediscovering a taste for genre films. We have such a rich and varied history in them (as evidenced in a certain docu which ranks very highly on this list... there's a spoiler!) it's a real shame when we all but give them away, as what occurred during the 1990s. But thanks to WOLF CREEK's success, "Ozploitation" is starting to enter what may be its second coming. ACOLYTES is very much a thriller with audiences in mind, from its lurid serial killer plot to its slam-bam sound design, which jolts you out of your seat more than once. Basically, three teenagers live in fear of a local bully until they discover they share their suburb with a serial killer, and... well, I'm not going to divulge any more. Only to say that all performances are top notch, especially from Joel Edgerton, as the very suburban slayer, and an unrecognisable Michael Dorman (ironically, the man who replaced Edgerton on SECRET LIFE... I always knew he had a performance like this in him) as the bully. Director Jon Hewitt, who has previously directed edgy, ultra-low-budget guerilla genre works, does a nice job of building suspense and keeping his first big(ger)-budget picture slick, tight and active and, like all the Aussie films I saw at this year's fest, it's gorgeously shot and all technical work is top-drawer. The script -- where most Australian films go wrong -- for this one (by Queenslanders Shane Krause and Shayne Armstrong, with Hewitt) is better than most; while it utilises its fair share of cliches, it manages to turn a good many of them on their head. It isn't going to make anyone rethink the genre, but it's smart, entertaining and nicely done, and for an Australian thriller, that's a huge tick.

15th - MAN ON WIRE

By 1974, French professional tightrope walker/nutcase Philippe Petit had already successfully completed wire walks over the Notre Dame cathedral and the Sydney Harbour Bridge -- unsanctioned and totally illegal, of course -- so he was naturally looking for his next challenge, but this one had to be huge, legend-etching stuff. While flipping through a magazine in a doctor's office, he innocuously found his muse: the still-under-construction Twin Towers in New York City. Soon to become the world's tallest buildings, they provided the tightrope Everest Petit craved. This vibrant, hugely entertaining documentary is the tale of how Petit did it, step by agonising step, much of it told in gregarious style by the likeable Petit himself, as well as his revolving door of accomplices. Termed at the time "the artistic crime of the century", the operation is scoped, planned and executed like a heist, and director James Marsh makes the brilliant choice to treat it as such, with camera angles, music and amusing reveals of interview subjects -- even branding them with OCEAN'S ELEVEN-like nicknames -- with the flavour of a Jules Dassin flick. I won't say any more, except to urge you to see it; it's one of the most purely fun documentaries you'll ever see, an absolute popcorn doc.

14th - LIONEL

A authoritative, affectionate, and affecting, documentary about legendary Aboriginal boxer Lionel Rose, the man who became the first Aboriginal Australian to win a world boxing title. While he may be a household name to boxing enthusiasts and Aussies over 30, most people tend to forget what a towering figure he was here in the 1960s. Forthright, boyishly charming, self-effacing, terrific with the media and even better with his fists in the ring, Rose was a flat-out superstar in this country, winning Australian of the Year and even recording a Number 1 hit single! Upon returning from his bantamweight title fight against Harada in Japan, he was greeted by over 100,000 people on the steps of Melbourne Town Hall. This beautifully crafted film shows us all this, his gradual fall -- weight problems derailing a ill-fated comeback, battles with drinking, losing his winnings, and being convicted of a stupidly small-time burglary -- and subsequent rebirth as an elder statesman of the indigenous community, as director Eddie Martin employs an arsenal of virtually every surviving scrap of archive and news footage, as well as some beautifully shot present-day interviews and intimate segments of the man relaxing with family and alone. What's really striking about this documentary, besides the thoroughness of it, is that it just oozes class and love, yet doesn't sugar-coat its subject. It's like a documentary made by your best friend, who will show the world why you mean so much to them, yet won't shirk from showing your difficult or dark side... but all delivered with the affection and sensitivity of someone who'd lie in traffic for you. (I believe Martin is quite close to the Roses personally.) A riveting, warmly funny, occasionally tragic and ultimately enriching portrait of the first 60 years of one of this country's greatest athletes.

13th - GONZO: THE LIFE AND WORK OF HUNTER S. THOMPSON

In what is fast becoming to be a yearly tradition, MIFF rolls out yet another documentary about the late, great maestro of Gonzo, Hunter S. Thompson. Not that I'm complaining; I could seriously watch this dude for hours, he's just so incredibly brilliant, funny, perceptive, loose and, of course, batshit bananas crazy. This time, it's recently Oscar-anointed documentary filmmaker Alex Gibney (TAXI TO THE DARK SIDE) whose lens is trained on the subject, and he directs with great pace, style and verve, and really makes a film out of it. While showing us plenty of archive footage we've seen before -- notably in last year's excellent MIFF-screened docu BUY THE TICKET, TAKE THE RIDE: HUNTER THOMPSON ON FILM... there's only so much vision to go around, I guess -- this film makes an effort to focus on events of Thompson's life I knew little about but mere lip service; namely, his vehement support for 1972 Democratic Presidential candidate George McGovern, and Thompson's own campaign for Sheriff of his adopted hometown of Woody Creek, Colorado. Narrated by Hunter's screen alter ego Johnny Depp, featuring vox pops of varying (mostly ace) insight from everyone from childhood friends to Depp and Sean Penn, and put together with panache, Gibney's film is a document every bit as entertaining as its subject, even if it isn't quite the definitive record it strives to be.

12th - CALIFORNIA DREAMIN' (ENDLESS)

Firstly, I have to say, I take small issue with the "Endless" tag placed upon this work. The film has been labeled such as its Romanian director/co-writer, Christian Nemescu, was killed in a car accident before he got a chance to finish his edit, so it is allegedly being released to the world in the exact state the film's producers found it after he died. My issue is, it didn't feel endless to me... in any way. Essentially an extended battle of wits between an American Military Colonel (Armand Assante, who's fabulous) and an equally hardheaded station master, as the US Army are carrying NATO supplies on a train passing through Romania to Kosovo (this is set in the early 1990s), and need to get there ASAP. But they don't have the proper papers, which rubs the somewhat tyrannical station master, Doiaru, the wrong way, and no amount of "just get it done" phone missives from the US Army, or the Romanian government for that matter, can budge him. While this all plays out, many of the American soldiers and the local girls have one thing on their minds... particularly Assante's number one soldier and Doiaru's fiesty daughter, which certainly throws a spanner in the works. There's so much socio-political subtext going on in this film, nicely bubbling under the surface at all times, it spun me out a little, to the point where I wasn't sure I was absorbing as much as I should. The ending is highly satisfactory, and it's followed by a tiny little coda which works in a very ambiguous European way. For those expecting a long, dry, sombre, seemingly "endless" Romanian film weighed down by political subtext and the doom and gloom of war, prepare to be disappointed! This a film with a lot on its mind, but nothing more present than audiences. It's eminently watchable, shot and edited with effortless skill and, yes, frequently funny, even sexy! I hope Numescu is resting in peace, and if this is a harbinger of what was to come from this young man, then we're all the poorer for his absence.

11th - JESUS CHRIST SAVIOUR

Damn, this was fun to watch, even if at times it resembled a major disaster, somewhere between a ten car pile-up and a bridge collapse... take your pick. This isn't a documentary, it's a concert film, with some title cards from 2008 added, so here's the lowdown: In 1971, German actor Klaus Kinski, he of the uncomfortably intense mad-eyed stare and ever-shortening fuse, and tormentor of Herzog, performs a self-penned monologue at Berlin's Deutchlandhalle about the Messiah, called JESUS CHRIST SAVIOUR. Starting off by narrating around the events then switching to first person, Kinski is so into this it's very, very funny. But what's even funnier, and conversely, sadder and weirder, is the moment sections of the crowd start turning on him (particularly when some of seem to have attended precisely for this purpose) and, Kinski being Kinski, the actor can't resist the temptation just to yell comebacks and threats to these rogue elements, even while preaching his revisionist gospel in the third person (keep in mind, the "third person" is one Jesus H. Christ, esq.). Kinski is magnetically mad -- you've never heard the word of Christ until it's been screamed at you by an unhinged German -- the crowd are, by degrees, funny and annoying and watching Kinski walk off, start again from the beginning, walk off, and repeat over and over again, is an unwitting joke which packs an awesome punchline. The energy in the hall is born straight of late-60s unrest and the kids in the audience seem to carry a deep resentment of Kinski's financial status. Absorbing, highly entertaining stuff.

Oh my stars and garters, as Dr H McCoy used to say!! Have we reached my Top 10 Films of MIFF 2008????

That's right, ladies and germs, watch this space in a few days and we'll spank this puppy, wrap this sucker up and ride it all the way to Vegas. You know what I'm talkin' about? Oh. You don't? Hmm. Okay... you know where to meet me, I'll show you, you follow my lead.

It's the TOP 10 and IT'S COMING!!!*

(*and rest assured, no-one is happier about this than me!)

TSIK

THOROUGHLY MIFFED - PART IV: THE ROARING TWENTIES

When I made the decision to review every film I saw at MIFF this year, I can only conclude that a very Australian mindset captured me, because a stiff shot of "She'll be right, mate" can be the only reason an otherwise sane person would battle through reviews to 59 freaking movies. Last two years, I saw and reviewed 21 and 27 pictures respectively, and they'd been a breeze! How hard could this be, really? It's only more than those two combined, right? *cue deadpan look to camera*

Lunacy. Fucking lunacy. And I'm in too deep now, and have no choice but to forge ahead... Thankfully, the films are gradually improving. Without further faffing about:

30th - WENDY AND LUCY

A small, sparse, well-executed, 'meat & potatoes' American independent film about an indigent young woman (Michelle Williams) traveling the country with her dog, Lucy, on her way to Alaska to find work and freedom. We find her on the day her little life unravels; down to her last dollar, her car breaks down, she gets arrested for shoplifting and loses her dog. Light on for story, sure, but story is never the point for these kinds of films, it's all about mood, reality and capturing a slice of life, all of which this film actually does pretty well. Williams is terrific, the film is shot and edited with extreme subtlety and Wendy's actions and interactions all have the ring of truth, and at a slim 80 minutes, doesn't outstay its welcome. WENDY AND LUCY won't set anyone's seat alight, and it's nothing we haven't seen before, but in terms of its modest aspirations -- a snapshot of a woman staring her life in the face as it falls apart around her -- it succeeds beautifully.

29th - CELEBRITY: DOMENICK DUNNE

An Australian-made documentary taking us through the high and low life of famed Los AngelesVanity Fair columnist Dunne, this is a snappy little effort. Kept humming along by the now-81-year-old subject's willingness to share, his very much intact sense of humour and talent for observation, and the circus of events and personalities involved -- plus some damn good vox pops from such reliable luminaries as Robert Evans and Dunne's actor-producer son Griffin -- the film is constantly engaging. If anything, it threatens to drown in its own L.A.-ness, its sense of self-importance, the feeling that Los Angeles is the centre of the universe. The dreadful revelation which changed the course of Dunne's life -- his daughter being murdered at just 23 -- and the metamorphosis it triggered in him, from celebrity gadfly and budding Fitzgerald to professional celebrity court reporter, adds some much-needed gravity to proceedings. Overall, a colourful, entertaining docu about a colourful, entertaining man.

28th - BRANDO

Befitting the man, this is a mammoth (165 minute) record of the life and times of the Actor Who Changed Everything, particularly in terms of American screen acting. Produced by the Turner Classic Movies (TCM) network, this is a fairly loving portrait, as you'd expect, chock full of entertaining interviews with many who knew, loved, worked with or were influenced by him, and incredibly light on criticism or objectivity. Nobody wants a character assassination, but a deeper look into his later-life eccentricities and anguish would've provided a touch more edge. It does provide a terrific illustration of what impact Brando's arrival had on Hollywood and, most crucially, his fellow actors, and packed with terrific anecdotes. It's always entertaining, but very much a made-for-cable-TV affair, and overlong by about half an hour. Sometimes the line between exhaustive and exhausting can be incredibly slender, and BRANDO isn't always on the right side.

27th - REDACTED

Despite all the hate heaped on top of the guy, I always find Brian De Palma an interesting figure among American film directors. Capable of true genre greatness (CARRIE, SCARFACE, THE UNTOUCHABLES and MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE... and I'm ashamed to say I haven't seen many of his 1970s flicks like SISTERS, THE FURY or OBSESSION), highly entertaining camp nuttiness (PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE, RAISING CAIN) and the odd intelligent exploration of society's big questions (GREETINGS, CASUALTIES OF WAR) -- as well as, yes, many misfires -- De Palma has had one of the more varied (and variable) careers of his contemporaries, so I'm always intrigued by what he'll do next. REDACTED, indeed, is something different again, caught somewhere between CASUALTIES and his avant-garde beginnings -- if in experimental spirit rather than content. A comment on today's proliferation of mixed media messages and how their subjectivity further compromises the truth rather than propagates it, it tells the story of the rape and murder of an Iraqi girl and her family by American peacekeeping soldiers through video blogs, a fictional documentary, news footage, CCTV, taped military psychology sessions and so forth. It sounds like a mess, but it actually gels together rather well, progressing in a surprisingly linear fashion. The actors do a great job being as real as possible and blending into the background... but De Palma, as writer more than director, lets the dog run off the leash in the final quarter, as his characters start saying and doing things that feel more like the actions of movie characters than the flesh-and-blood archetypes they were previously. Added to that, the movie traverses well-well-worn territory, and when the 90 minutes is done, you're left with the feeling that, while told in an interesting and innovative way (some may say "gimmicky"), it hasn't told us anything new or shown anything particularly enlightening. Still, it's well executed and, while not to everyone's taste, is quite good as a piece of preaching-to-the-converted antiwar polemic.

26th - LET THE RIGHT ONE IN

Oskar is twelve, slight, sickly, lives in a freezing Swedish commission flat with his mother and gets bullied at school. One reason for the latter is his interest in the macabre, which gets him labeled a freak of sorts. However... this interest is very much piqued when the new girl next door (also twelve... and then some...) turns out to be a vampire. Elegantly shot, leisurely paced and bursting with terrific ideas, this is one of those films that's A-L-M-O-S-T there, but not quite. Unfortunately, it's also bursting with too many extraneous plotlines which take up slabs of valuable screen time and distract from the intriguing central dynamic. However, I'm always up for any new or unexpected twists on the Vampire genre, and on this count, the picture delivers. Oh, and the second-to-last-scene is killer.

25th - OLD FISH

An aging policeman working and living in the slums of China is kept around by the force almost as a monument; his fellow cops call him "Old Fish" and treat him with a mixture of respect and amusement. But the old man has one edge over his more technologically advanced fellow officers: after the war, he specialised in disarming land mines left by the Japanese, and by default has become their resident explosives expert. So when a rash of home-made explosive devices pop up at dilapidated housing flats across town, Old Fish is The Man. Some incredible suspense is created as we watch this old fella -- he'd be pushing 60 -- struggling to stay his hands and slow his heart as he takes apart device after device, as his slightly smug colleagues can only watch in fear. Director Gao Qunshu ratchets up the tension beautifully, and creates an evocative portrait of the grimy, desolate slums not so far from China's urban centre -- I'm sure this isn't a place the Chinese authorities would want foreigners to see. However, after you've seen Old Fish disarm the first four bombs, it becomes clear the filmmakers don't have much more up their sleeve (there is an interesting suspicion that Old Fish may be planting them himself, but this idea is quickly discarded) and the action eventually becomes monotonous, padding out the film to an overlong 113 minutes, and it's a little hard to swallow this force don't have a single officer trained in explosives. It eventually builds to a nice ending, which leaves you wondering how much more fulfilling the film could've been with some judicious second-half editing.

24th - BEST MIFF SHORTS

Thankfully, a remarkably subdued and decidedly not cringe-inducing award session preceded a selection of six of the award winners.

First was JOHN AND KAREN, a cute English animation about an awkward, all-too-human conversation between a polar bear (John) and a penguin (Karen). Amusing anthropomorphic antics, but hardly stunning or gutbusting... as good as it was, it's hard to believe this was the best animated film on offer.

Secondly was the ambitious, attractive, but massively dull HELL'S GATES, based upon the cannibalistic exploits of 1790s Australian convict Alexander Pierce and his increasingly starving fellow escapees. With such effort put into evoking the period (on an incredibly low budget apparently, kudos) and building mood, this had the potential to be genuinely fearsome, but goes nowhere and unforgivably ends up a thunderous bore. Unfortunately, at 21 minutes, it was also the longest short on offer, not helping its cause.

Then came 296 SMITH STREET, which agonisingly evokes a day in the life of Ahmed, a Collingwood (or is that Fitzroy?) pawnbroker and his customers: occasionally ingratiating, often agitated, and always on a knife's edge. Shot in black and white yet bleeding realism, sometimes amusing and increasingly nerve-wracking, considering the clientele are always a heartbeat away from violence, this was one of the best for mine.

Just as great was Irish short NEW BOY, a simple yet punchy and painfully real story (based on a short story by Roddy Doyle) of an African boy's first day at school after emigrating to Ireland. Nervous, affecting and ultimately funny, this is beautifully done.

Next up was the Aussie JERRYCAN, fresh of winning the top short film prize at Cannes. It's a spunky, beautifully shot film, with a really strong sense of place, about two kids in a country town trying to stave off perennial boredom and find something to amuse themselves, eventually coming across the titular petrol-filled item... naturally, explosive hijinks ensue.

Finally, there was the actual grand prize winner, the Danish short DENNIS. Living with his domineering mother, Dennis is a hulking bodybuilder who exists in a state of abject loneliness. He calls up a girl from the gym for a date and, to his surprise, she accepts. However, the painfully shy big guy finds that's only half the battle as the date goes in an unexpected direction. By turns amusing and painful, this is a nicely told little tale.

In some way or another, all six displayed the possibilities of the short film format to positive effect, much more than the utter dreck Tropfest routinely serves up year after year.

23rd - LA ANTENA (aka THE AERIAL)

A visually stunning homage to silent German expressionist cinema, or a family film co-directed by Guy Maddin and David Lynch: take your pick, as either description can be applied to -- yet not fully explain -- this odd little fantasy concoction from Argentinian cinematographer-turned-director Esteban Sapir. Set in a world where no-one can speak aloud, but can project visible words (like subtitles) into the air, where a nefarious media magnate named Mr. TV -- the man who stole their voices in the first place -- controls all television and music output, even much of the food the silenced citizens eat. This isn't enough for him, though: he wants to steal their words, too. Enter a recently sacked network employee and his daughter, and the only two people in town with voices (a torch singer without a face known only as “The Voice” and her son, born without eyes), as they discover Mr TV’s plan and plot to stop him. Charming at times, downright bizarre at others, this is one of the more inventive films I’ve ever seen, and although it has that fuzzy, soft-light look shared by such all-CGI films as SKY CAPTAIN AND THE WORLD OF TOMORROW, it is stunning to look at. Plot-wise, it takes a while to get going, but it is so unique and frankly whacked-out you can’t help but be hooked.

22nd - SEVEN DAYS SUNDAY

The winner of this year's Jekyll and Hyde Award. The story of two disaffected youths, living in the slums of Leipzig, who spend their days staving off boredom by drinking stolen booze, chatting up local girls and, for one of them anyway, mugging the odd passer-by. In minute detail, we watch these two go through their day and into the night; one of the guys fancies a girl, the other one contrives to get off with her just for something to do, there's a misunderstanding, they end up at the most boring-arse party in the history of humanity... and all the while your eyes are glazing over, realising that, no, nothing is actually going to happen. At a slim 79 minutes, you wouldn't think the film would have a chance to grow boring, but there I was, at the 40 minute mark, falling asleep, peering at the clock on my phone and actually contemplating leaving... something I never, ever consider, let alone do. It was that bad. Suddenly, one of the boys tells the other, "I want to kill somebody"... and the movie turns on its head in every conceivable way. We can only watch helplessly as these two stalk the streets, waiting for some poor unsuspecting bloke to murder for their own pointless gratification. It's horrible, agonising stuff, and merely watching their disaffected behaviour enraged me. What's more, when the killer is caught, he makes no attempt to hide what he's done, almost as if he's disconnected from the world. The actor who plays him, Ludwig Trepte, perfects the bottomless, permanently blank stare of a youth who is both utterly unrepentant and completely uncomprehending of the tragedy he has wrought. As the main characters -- including the girl -- all struggle to deal with the aftermath, the film takes on a genuinely sad tone and it just shatters your soul. Amazingly, yet tellingly, this was the film school graduation film for its writer-director Niels Laupert, who promises big things on the back of this. Notable for being one of the few films at the festival to really get a strong emotional reaction out of me, I was left wondering what might have been, had the entire film been that good.

21st - DIARY OF THE DEAD

The catalyst for this year's welcome retrospective, George A Romero's newest film is, like his other DEAD films, a rumination on a social theme. This time, like De Palma's REDACTED, it focuses on the YouTube generation, the proliferation of personal cameras and the need to film everything: is this the pursuit of truth, or mere exploitation? What's more, if you shoot a disaster and don't help, are you in some way complicit? Romero goes some way to answering these questions, but often it's at the expense of any kind of interesting character work, as the young filmmakers at the heart of this story -- we find them making a low-budget horror movie when the zombie outbreak occurs -- are as uninspiring as any in the filmmaker's entire oeuvre. Making up for this shortfall somewhat are some highly effective zombie scenes (considering the film's relatively low $2 million budget -- and Romero DID invent the genre, after all), a hilarious encounter with a surprisingly hardy Amish fellow (the film's highlight), and the director's trademark swipes at the modern human condition. Even when they're flogging their theme over and over to the point of exhaustion, Romero and his editor keep things moving along at a fine pace, and throw the characters some interesting curveballs along the way. Not as effective as NIGHT, DAWN or even LAND OF THE DEAD, DIARY still does enough well to not embarrass the franchise, and in this age of dull, brainless studio horror remakes, it's nice to have guys like Romero out there, still proving time and again that the genre is worth a damn.

Next up: we get to the good stuff... the back end of my TOP 20 OF MIFF '08! Come join me, if you've got the stamina. I dare ya.

TSIK

THOROUGHLY MIFFED - PART III: THE NQR BRIGADE

Just before we hook into the countdown: I'd like to share a few thoughts with the viewing public since the last blog:

- Go see THE BANK JOB. It's slick, charming, unpredictable and terrific fun.

- After canning DONKEY PUNCH, I checked out its IMDB page and saw that the first review was merely titled "Donkey Pish", which cracked me up. If I were a Scot, that totally would've been my review.

- Are there any more horror films of the 1970s and 80s to remake? I really think they got everybody. Even clunkers like MY BLOODY VALENTINE and MOTHER'S DAY are getting a re-run. Are there really that few new ideas out there? Studios can't claim "brand recognition" on this stuff with a straight face, can they? Wait a minute: I haven't heard anything about a HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME remake...*

*Expect an announcement from Fox Atomic in the coming weeks.

Now, back to the MIFF Madness: these are the noble failures, or the straight sixes -- films which achieved small goals and nothing more -- or the Ritalin-popping ADHD cases, which couldn't quite keep focused enough to deliver on their intentions 100%... starting with:

40th - IDIOTS AND ANGELS (& short HOT DOG)

I've never seen any of Bill Plympton's stuff before, but I'm aware of his status as a big name in animation, and know enough about his work to spot it at ten paces. The synopsis of IDIOTS AND ANGELS -- a horrible, deeply misanthropic man who suddenly sprouts angel wings, which work against his base nature by forcing him to do good deeds -- struck me as intriguing, so I thought it might make an ideal introduction. I'm still not sure if this proved correct, as the program was something of a mixed bag.

Before the feature was a funny Plympton short called HOT DOG, about a puppy whose obsession with joining the Fire Department often gets the better of him. While it may sounds like a fun idea for a Pixar short, it's got a little more of an adult tinge to it. Not heart-stopping brilliance by any stretch, but it is quite entertaining.

By contrast, IDIOTS AND ANGELS contains some fantastic ideas and truly inspired visuals, but shows an unfortunate tendency toward going around in circles. It's got a lot to say about the world we live in today, about man's inhumanity to man, commercial opportunism, taking the low way out even when the high way is the easier option and so forth; even flirting with being a superhero tale at times. It wanders off the reservation somewhere between the second and third acts, however, making all sorts of weird digressions that subtract from the film's narrative thrust and creating a bit of cinematic dead air. There's enough good stuff here to be engaging, and I'm sure Plympton's fans will eat it up, but -- even though it's only 80 minutes long -- it could do with some trimming.

39th - DEAD ON: THE LIFE AND CINEMA OF GEORGE A. ROMERO

I've always been a big fan of Romero's work, so I was looking forward to this documentary in a big way. Now, to be fair, we were warned that this was a "work in progress" -- and, boy, they weren't kidding. Director Rusty Nails rounds up a startling array of Romero's friends and collaborators, as well as seemingly unlimited access to Romero himself, to shed fascinating insight into (and shower much affection upon) the big man and his methods, and thankfully looks at his entire career, not only focusing on his DEAD movies, but giving decent air time to lesser-known flicks like THE CRAZIES, JACK'S WIFE and KNIGHTRIDERS. So what's the problem? It's staggeringly badly shot and lit (the guy can't learn how to compose a damn frame?), ineptly edited (an opening credits montage, which should be no more than a minute long, goes on for four minutes!) and, at 127 minutes, goes on forever. Let's hope Nails hires a decent editor to hammer (oh ZING!) his labour of love into shape, at which point I'd love nothing more than to see it again and be forced to eat this rating.

38th - REVERSE SHOT: REBELLION OF THE FILMMAKERS

In the early 1970s, a seemingly never-ending cabal of German filmmakers -- among them, Werner Herzog, Wim Wenders and the iconoclastic Rainer Werner Fassbinder -- formed their own socialist-style film production and distribution company, Filmverlag Der Autoren, to make movies which reflected modern Germany warts and all, then pump any profit into achieving total independence. A noble goal, inevitably doomed by the standard personality clashes, money issues and conflicting visions of direction which plague such ventures. It's a fairly standard rise-fall-fragmentation story, and the extremely dry treatment it's given here does it few favours. What's more, there are so many names being thrown around, and even less anyone but the most fervent German film buffs would recognise, that it's tough to remember who's who. Jolts of energy are provided by interviews with the always amusing Herzog, jovial filmmaker Laurens Straub (the docu's co-director, with Domenik Wessely), and archival footage of the magnetic, hilariously egomaniacal Fassbinder. A potential motivational tool for filmmakers, otherwise recommended for film historians only.

37th - ACCELERATOR PROGRAM 1

The Melbourne International Film Festival introduced the Accelerator program to support emerging Australian and New Zealand -- now joined by Irish and Singaporean -- short filmmakers, giving them a platform to be seen at a major festival and preparing them for feature filmmaking. The fruits of this year's program, however, suggests the current nature of Australian films may not change in a hurry: highly technically accomplished films with incredibly dull content -- or, at least, relatively dull treatment of interesting themes (or even the other way round) -- at their core. Anthony Chen's thunderously dull, one-note observational piece HAZE looks at a pair of Singaporean teenagers losing their virginity while playing hooky; Aaron Wilson's AHMAD'S GARDEN is a lush, spare, yet strangely unfulfilling tale of a man doing what he can to make life in a detention centre bearable (cute ending though); THIS IS HER, from NZ director Katie Wolfe, is a cuckolded woman's quirky look at her failed marriage and the bitch who stole her husband away, with amusing flashbacks and juxtapositions; John Alsop's HE. SHE. IT. is a lighter-than-air Aussie short about the efforts of a jaded, soon-to-retire schoolteacher (Steve Abbott, otherwise known to fans of Good News Week as "The Sandman") to bring an outcast teenage boy and girl together; THE SKY IS ALWAYS BEAUTIFUL, from Jeremy Cumpston, is a limp and ultimately pointless exercise concerning a bitter taxi driver, a depressed prostitute and a concerned young girl; Dustin Feneley's HAWKER, another mood piece of little consequence about the relentlessly crap life of a door-to-door salesman, boosted only by an excellent central performance from Melbourne actor Syd Brisbane; and my favourite, the shortest, sharpest and funniest of the bunch, Kiwi director Jason Stutter's CAREFUL WITH THAT AXE, a 2 minute gaspfest about a very small boy's fascination with his dad's axe and woodchopping, with a killer climax -- the least self-important here and, therefore, the most fun!

36th - SURVEILLANCE

After a hiatus of 15 years, Jennifer Lynch, daughter of David you-know-who, returns to the director's chair with a fairly standard psychological thriller enlivened by some odd and over-the-top touches -- although, it must be said, not as balls-out weird as one may expect. Namely, the performances of Bill Pullman and Julia Ormond investigating a roadside bloodbath, which may or may not have been initiated by two very creepy redneck cops (Kent Harper and Third Rock From The Sun's French Stewart!), and some wild twists you'll probably see coming from some distance away. If taken too seriously, this will really rub you the wrong way, but have fun with it, enjoy the scenery chewing and you'll have some fun. A fairly minor work which suggests Lynch is slowly dipping her toe back into the pool after the unmitigated disaster of her debut, BOXING HELENA.

35th - IN SEARCH OF A MIDNIGHT KISS

In a nutshell? This is your bog-standard, next-to-no-budget, snappily sardonic, independent black-and-white New York rom-com... except, it's set in Los Angeles. This minor wrinkle doesn't make much of a difference, if any, but I get the feeling this flick isn't out to redefine its genre, rather it's just looking to make for a nice, fun night out... and on that level, it works. For the most part. Once our hero gets caught masturbating over internet porn -- upon which he's photoshopped the head of his housemate's girlfriend -- he thinks it might be time to hook up, so, with New Year's Eve approaching, he places a "misanthrope seeks misanthrope" ad on an internet dating site. Meeting with said misanthrope goes strangely, but well, and soon they're wandering around LA on NYE falling in and out of various stages of apathy/like/dislike/love/hate, until midnight falls and... well, you know. You've been here before, but I'm a big lover of black & white, there are some genuinely funny quips and asides, and writer-director Alex Holdridge has a good sense of what kind of film he's making and to keep it moving. Forgettable? Sure. Fun? You bet.

34th - ASHES OF TIME REDUX

I was frankly shocked to hear that Wong Kar-Wai, Hong Kong's chronicler of too-cool-for-school tortured lovers, had written and directed an historical martial arts film in the early 1990s. So, being familiar with his work, I tried to imagine how it would play out: it'd probably substitute his usual blasts of urban neon for vibrant feudal cloths, and ultimately focus upon ancient warriors more obsessed with lost or unrequited loves than slaying scores of bandits. Turns out I wasn't far from the truth: the story concerns a killer-for-hire living a reclusive life (nursing the pain of a lost love, natch) in the middle of the desert, as a jaded, self-proclaimed "solver of problems". As various characters cross his path, he proves rubbish at this, solving nothing and often trying to convince each of them to solve the others' for him. It's a visually beautiful film, pregnant with sorrow and mourning, but it's just as often confusing and the battle scenes are shot and cut with little care for coherence. Naturally, the film succeeds best when Kar-Wai plays to his forehand; namely, sad-eyed jilted lovers wandering a wasteland, searching to fill an unquenchable vacuum of the soul.

33rd - NIGHTWATCHING

Peter Greenaway lends his lush, eccentric eye to Rembrandt and, specifically, the creation of his work The Night Watch. Very theatrical in tone, with every scene shot in the idiom of a Rembrandt painting, it's visually spectacular to behold. Equally eye-catching is his casting of Martin Freeman (Tim from Gervais' The Office, or Arthur Dent from HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE) as Rembrandt -- what seems monumentally unlikely is possibly the most successful aspect of the picture, as Freeman is fantastic, imbuing Rembrandt with an everyman charm and, dare I say it, lust for life which immediately puts us in his corner. However, the film is way too leisurely paced for its own good, and tacks on a terribly extraneous, largely insignificant plotline onto the end of the film, padding an already lengthy film by another 20 minutes. The picture works best when it's focused on the artwork; Greenaway works like a detective, drawing historical theory and artistic instinct to analyse what the Dutch Master poured into his masterwork from every angle, and it's dazzling to watch him lay it all out. Overall, while it may have lost me from time to time, it's a mostly intriguing, and always attractive, film.

32nd - SUKIYAKI WESTERN DJANGO

Anyone familiar with the work of Japanese cult auteur Takashi Miike won't need me to tell them he's insane, and this spaghetti western mash-up does nothing to prove otherwise. Opening with the first scene in an extended cameo from another certain American cult auteur (surname starts with T, ends with "arantino"), speaking near-gibberish against a deliberately fake-looking painted matte background, before bursting into an improbable gunfight, you know you've booked a two hour ticket to whackjob country... The plot, such as it is, kicks off like A FISTFUL OF DOLLARS, with a crack gunman wandering into town between two warring gangs, and finding them both vying for his services. The legends of how these gangs came to be, how they conduct themselves, and the shenanigans which occur henceforth are pure Miike, meaning it's a total paradox: visually spectacular yet often (intentionally) ramshackle, stunningly original yet rather derivative, and philosophical yet utterly, deeply, profoundly nonsensical. Awful and brilliant in equal measure -- often in the same scene! -- SUKIYAKI WESTERN DJANGO is, without a doubt, like no other spaghetti western you'll ever see. Yet, like every spaghetti western you've ever seen. Hell, it's Miike! Got it? Good.

31st - ACCELERATED FICTION SHORTS

The Accelerator program strikes back, with shorts directed by former Accelerator alumni, who obviously didn't grasp the whole "prepare them for feature filmmaking" part of the brief. I only saw the first three of the six shorts on offer, but I think I saw the best of the bunch. The first, DIRECTIONS, was not it. The story of a childlike man who befriends a wonky shopping trolley and takes it (or does it take him?) on an adventure attempts to be Keatonesque in its feats of near-silent physical comedy whimsy, but somebody needed to tell director Kasimir Burgess that hiring an actor who just looks funny ain't a done deal: they need to actually be able to, y'know, do physical comedy. One can only imagine how cool this could've been in the hands of, say, a Frank Woodley. The second short, Erin White's FOUR, is a colourful comedy of swinging neighbours in 1970s Australia and the unlikely union they form. It has an awesome 70s look -- where did they find all those wallpapers and fittings??? If nothing else, the film is a marvel of production design -- and the story, initially a parade of cliches, really deepens and grows on you; it's a cool little film. Thirdly, and most triumphantly (as Bill and Ted would say), is THE FUNK, a black-and-white, semi-animated (with digital live-action stills) visual stunner about a man who wakes up in the titular mood and just can't shake it, and can only watch from within as it begins to dominate his life. It's a beautiful, weird, sad story told with stunning economy and unique vision and, to top it all off, is narrated by the ever-excellent Jacek Koman. THE FUNK is one of those rare shorts which demands to be seen, early and often.

Next: more imperfect gems (of sorts) and we get closer to the good stuff... seeya soon!

TSIK