Reviews

To the hundreds of poor dullards starved of real entertainment and good storytelling who are raving about this film and Tom Hardy's performance in it, you are likely the reason Hollywood is turning out such limp trash most days of the week. I ignored VENOM at the cinemas and watched it instead on DVD with my mouth agape at how annoyingly puerile the film is. Then again, I'm past the age of bed wetting and know how to read so I'm obviously not the target audience.

One element of the film I found interesting was its strong socialist message that pits the plight of America's poor, homeless and marginalised against the amoral excesses and indulgences of the rich who quite literally make their money by exploiting the poor and desperate. It's a fascinating subplot although of course its a message lost on its kiddie audience who want big bang smash boobs.

Elements of VENOM reminded me of the reviled and largely forgotten 1997 anti-superhero film SPAWN, although primitive CG aside, that film, which of course is terribly flawed, is still significantly better.The least annoying parts of the film are undoubtedly between Williams and Hardy, but not even Williams could save the lifeless two-dimensionality of the screenplay. Williams is the more nuanced actor of the two leads, while Hardy has always gravitated towards grotesque, excessive roles that lack subtlety. Then again, subtlety and nuance is something that contemporary juvenile American audiences (a tautology if ever there was one) simply cannot abide.

The true standout in the film was Riz Ahmed who played his villain very straight and never ventured into histrionics or excess. His performance was so chillingly pedestrian that when he becomes Riot the character loses all sense of threat to a silly Decepticon wannabe. I guess his underplayed performance fell off the radar for a lot of folks but its the emotionlessness and lack of empathy that made him a true villain, revealing what it takes to make it big in America.

I was gobsmacked to read the claim from many reviewers that the film is not formulaic, because VENOM is absolutely color-by-numbers filmmaking that feels like it belongs in a Michael Bay movie pack. You could pretty much set your watch to the inciting incident and all those other formulaic screenplay structures that have reduced commercial filmmaking to telling lifeless repetitive stories. Indeed, the film is so horribly Michael Bay that the dialogue between Eddie Brock and Venom is uncannily like something I'd see in a TRANSFORMERS movie. "What's wrong with that?" I hear all the four-year-olds scream. I rest my case.

Few things on TV are as tedious as watching a celebrity stiffly deliver unfunny jokes while his sycophantic late night infomercial audience, excited just to be on TV, guffaws enthusiastically at absolutely everything (I've seen too many laugh-like-your-life-depends-on-it audiences in recent times). None of the jokes fly (few even get out of hangar), and the thing is, McHale looks like he knows he's not funny and his jokes are meh. His broad shoulders are nowhere near wide enough to carry a show with this sort of platform and it shows on his face as he smirks awkwardly, as if apologising to his career. Maybe that's the joke. Netflix has delivered some very good comedy, yet in recent days most of it has been ho-hum non-starters, and if the first episode of "The Joel McHale Show with Joel McHale" is anything to go by, this is a non-starter living on borrowed time.

THE VOID is heavy on practical special effects but lacks a strong core with which to build its story around. There is so much going on in the film, and yet it simultaneously feels empty. It plays like a random set of events without a logical centre to hold it all together. Even cerebral horror (which this isn't) needs a clear and cohesive core from which to operate.

The big problem is that the film is so derivative. I notice a lot of reviewers mentioning John Carpenter's THE THING, which is rather insulting to John Carpenter. Perhaps this says more about reviewers who have seen anywhere near enough films to be able to write a meaningful review, or who spend too much time watching just one type of film to really get a good grasp of what cinema can do. If anything, THE VOID is much more closely related to something like SPOOKIES (1986) or, JACK BROOKS: MONSTER SLAYER (2007), the "Pro-Life" episode of MASTERS OF HORROR than anything Carpenterian. Yes, there's a lot of Clive Barker going on and overdoses of Lovecraftian imagery, which Carpenter likewise employs both in THE THING, PRINCE OF DARKNESS and IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS, but THE VOID has more in common with Stewart Gordon and Brian Yuzna's versions of Lovecraft.

As well as the aforementioned films, there are clearly nods to HELLRAISER, REANIMATOR, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD and PHANTASM. THERE'S EVEN SOME CYBER PUNK THROWN IN FOR GOOD MEASURE. It's just a shame all this doesn't add up to a satisfying movie experience.

There's a slow moving shot halfway through SUNDAY TOO FAR AWAY taken from inside the shearing shed looking through a window out into the yard. The camera pans across the yard before pulling back into the shearing shed, rising as it continues panning across the shed interior, following the action before settling on a particular character. It's a beautiful shot and a lovely example of the stunning cinematography that gives the film a palpability in which you can really feel the heat, dust and flies.

I watched the film for the first time this evening and was blown away by its lyricism, claustrophobia and grandeur. I grew up on a dairy and sheep farm in 1970s Northern Victoria when the kind of hard working, hard talking, hard drinking labourers who travel where the work is was still very much a cultural tradition in country Australia. The people in this film display an authenticity, brashness, sense of humour, bravado, timidity and mateship that is readily recognisable. It all feels genuine. It's no wonder the film was so readily embraced by Australians on its initial release.

Aspects of the film also reminded me of Tim Burstall's 1979 film, LAST OF THE KNUCKLEMEN in its exploration of class in a tough homosocial workplace culture. There's also a humorous bum-wiggling scene that reminded me of a shot from another Jack Thompson film, THE SUM OF US (Burton 1994) in which he is vigorously stirring a saucepan over a stove. I would not be surprised to learn that the shot in THE SUM OF US is a homage to SUNDAY TOO FAR AWAY.

BETTER OFF DEAD is an impressively energetic debut feature for writer/director Savage Steve Holland. First time director Holland is conspicuously the new kid on the block as he saturates his film with so many ideas, a clear giveaway that he is yet to trust himself enough to release the reigns enough to let his movies breath. The results are spectacularly manic but it really works. Amidst the zany comedy and plentiful sight gags (the cereal boxes with all the giveaways cut out, for example), Holland throws in some amusing cel animation, a stop-motion fantasy sequence, and a cameo from Barney Rubble. Yet despite all the mania, the film's comedy has a level of discipline and restraint that ensures all the jokes land and humorous plot points established early on are satisfyingly resolved.

One of my favourite characters in the film is super-enthusiastic maths teacher Mr Kerber, played by late-great character actor Vincent Schiavelli. Telling maths formula jokes to his spellbound class, Schiavelli spins comedy gold using that discomfortingly warm tone that made him such a sought-after talent. His is one of several casting choices that are pitch perfect: John Cusak as the self-involved teen who wants to end it all when his vapid girlfriend (Amanda Wyss) dumps him for someone more popular; Laura Waterbury as the odious loud-mouthed neighbour and gas guzzling mother of shy bullish nerd Ricky Smith (perfectly played by Dan Schneider); Kim Derby as the timid clueless stay-at-home mom who makes slime-ridden meals that seem somehow sentient and slide off the plate by themselves (her "Frawnch" dinner party host is unforgettable); Curtis Armstrong ostensibly reprising his role from REVENGE OF THE NERDS gets the lion's share of one-liners and he delivers them with so much aplomb; Chuck Mitchell reprising his PORKY'S role is perfect as bad-tempered burger baron Rocko; Diane Franklin as the hapless frustrated French exchange student who is both a fairy godmother and the surprise love interest; monster child Scooter Stevens who wields newspapers as weapons and to whom two dollars means the world; and the super talented David Ogden Stiers as the priggish father attempting to bridge the generation gap with his checked-out son.

BETTER OFF DEAD is not for everyone and the film is most likely best enjoyed by those who lived through the 80s and understand its cultural peccadilloes, but if you have watched your fair share of 80s comedies like SCREWBALLS, 16 CANDLES, BACHELOR PARTY, PORKY'S, NATIONAL LAMPOON'S VACATION, REAL GENIUS, ZAPPED, or POLICE ACADEMY, you might wanna give BETTER OF DEAD a chance. Who knows, after seeing how everybody wants some, you may just want some too!

I avoided ANY QUESTIONS FOR BEN? on its release as I simply didn't like the title and after watching a slew of uninteresting contemporary Australian comedies I decided to give the film a miss. I watched the it this evening on a streaming channel and was surprised to find I liked it as much as I did ... which may not be saying much. I wasn't aware this was a Working Dog production (the team who made The Castle and The Dish, as well as numerous highly successful and very funny television shows) and while it lacks the laugh out loud comedy of their earlier films, it contains a conventional rom-com formula that works fairly well.

Title character Ben (Hosh Lawson) is in his late twenties and although a university drop-out, he has built a high-profile reputation in marketing. Admired and envied by his friends, Ben lives in the CBD with his two best mates and spends his nights and weekends socialising and hopping from one tryst to the next.

After returning as a guest speaker to his alma mater, Ben meets up with old university friend Alex (Rachel Taylor) and learns she is working for the UN in Yemen. Both Ben and Alex address the current students at their old school and talk about their careers. During question time, the students have loads of questions for Alex but no one has questions for Ben - thus the film's awkward title. This causes an existential crisis for Ben who suddenly finds himself in searching for meaning. There is a hint of Woody Allen here that reminds me of Annie Hall, Another Woman and Hannah and Her Sisters (though not at all in the same league) where Manhattan protagonists stop moving long enough to suddenly recognise that their lives are meaningless.

Ben becomes fixated on Alex but finds that his old habits are hard to break as his fear to commit to anything longterm gets in the way of meaningful relationships. It is difficult to try and decipher what it is the Working Dog team are trying to say with their film. While Ben's friends are not unlikeable, there is a general lack of depth to any of them except Ben who feels increasingly isolated and alone in his angst-ridden journey even as he continually tries and fails to reach out to friends and family and connect on a more intimate level.

In the end, Ben makes a decision to stay with this job and his apartment after having led a a life of transient affluence throughout his twenties. This extends to his relationship with Alex and he finally gets enough gumption to put himself on the line for love. After flitting about Melbourne hot spots throughout the film, the ultimate message of the film seems to be that the solution for soullessness can be found in a highly conservative formula of work and family values ... yet after meeting Ben's parents, even this seems hollow. Is there a deeper cynical agenda at work for the Working Dog team? Maybe, although I'm thinking this is more my reading of the film as I seriously doubt they are clever enough to pull off cynicism with a lightness of touch.

The constant socialising at prominent Melbourne venues and festivals captured in fast paced montage as well as the deluge of aerial shots of the CBD certainly show off just how much the city of Melbourne has to offer - and what is shown of this beautiful southern city is not even half of what there is, especially as the film rarely wonders outside the space of the CBD to explore its rich cafe culture, theatre and arts - yet the constancy and excessiveness of shots of Melbourne seem like the film has been sponsored by a tourist information group. This might be a love letter to Melbourne, yet the film ends by ultimately showing that one has to fly to Yemen to actually find love.

How does the average person approach Greenaway without writing his work off as pretentious? The most obvious answer is that they probably can't. Greenaway's films are not intended as "entertainment" for a wide audience, nor to be watched and forgotten. His last few films require a great deal of sustained concentration and patience which, unfortunately, is the domain of a small and shrinking group of people as cinema-goers lose the ability to maintain focus.

I recall seeing Prospero's Books on its initial release at Melbourne's beautiful single screen cinema palace, The Astor Theatre, to a packed house, seating just over a thousand people. Once the film started barely five minutes had elapsed before the first patrons began exiting the cinema. By the time the film was halfway through there were half a dozen bodies left in the cavernous theatre.

I confess that this first screening was hard work for me and my friends, who slogged it out until the end. I have since had the pleasure of studying the film at University in a "Shakespeare in Adaptation" class that I found especially rewarding. Greenaway's use of various spectacular though distancing cinematic devices — sumptuously busy mise-en-scene, multiple overlapping screens, long takes, minimal character movement, competing narrative devices, and the use of Sir John Gielgud as the sole voice, perform not only Prospero but the dialogue of all the other characters — is ingenious and becomes increasingly so with repeat watches. But beware: that first screening verges on punishing.

Viewers new to the film might be helped to know that it is an adaptation of Shakespeare's The Tempest, the final play before the playwright left London, and it seems fitting that Gielgud was cast in the role of Prospero, the rightful Duke of Milan who was betrayed by his brother and cast adrift with his daughter Miranda on a boat which found its was to an island full of mysterious unseen sprites.

Through studying a series of mysterious books, Prospero learns to control and command the phantasmic denizens of the island (the many unclothed extras in Greenaway's film), who do his bidding. Some scholars contend that Prospero is based on Shakespeare himself and his control of the wraithlike beings represent the playwright reflecting on his own inventions. It makes sense then that Gielgud plays the role of all the characters, controlling them all even as he sits in his study outside of the action scribing the story while simultaneously inhabiting the play as one its characters. Only when Prospero forgives his shipwrecked brother for his act of treachery and the world is set right are the other actors' voices finally heard.

Once you get past Greenaway's various tricks and stylistic flourishes, his adaptation becomes deeply moving, assisted by Michael Nyman's hypnotic score.

As a matter of interest, another wonderful film based on Shakespeare's The Tempest is the 1956 Fred M. Wilcox-directed science fiction spectacular, Forbidden Planet, which stars Officer Frank Drebin himself, Leslie Neilsen and the amazing humanoid robot fondly known as Robbie the Robot. Walter Pigeon plays the Prospero character whose study of the ancient technology of a lost civilisation on the planet has given him incredible powers to conjure monsters from his imagination.