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-- What The Fest @ Nova --

There's a paradox at the core of darkness. It holds both the absence of colour, but also every colour combined. It's most commonly associated with death, but also the primordial beginning.

Both readings work for this overblown assault to the senses. I was on board for the first person perspective and the setup with the Tibetan Book of The Dead. Even a bit of non-sequential storytelling? Nice!

Then good lord it just kept going. I am not one to shy away from the gruesome, the shocking, the sexual. But there were multiple instances where I wanted to leave. I thought it had hit ultimate unwavering gruesomeness and it kept! GOING! Flailing, self-repeating, adding nothing new.

Though I must shout out to the elderly couple who opened the cinema door in the middle of the Love Hotel scene and loudly said 'This is NOT our movie Harold'. I hope they weren't too scarred.

-- Melbourne Cinematheque @ ACMI (2/2) --

This is the most beautifully shot sexism I have ever seen.

The first act is crisply constructed, creating our tragic hero in Guido and his posse of producers/actors/designers exchanging languages and ideas freely (at a pace my screening's subtitles simply could not keep up with). It opens these questions of what an artist should sacrifice for their art, and how much of their lives are open sources for profit.

Then it simply... keeps going. Its plot progression quickly unravels at the seams in favour of Petty Adultery Drama (otherwise known as "The Consequences of Guido's Actions") which I simply found tiring and lazy. Then again, he does it over and over again that he's not making a love story, so maybe we have to believe him there.

His final tower of Babel falls as he calls the whole thing off, content in his lack of meaning.

The film about film, without a doubt. Guido is directing a film from its core outwards, from within its construction. I really went into this screening with a different film in mind, a different hypothetical vision of one of the foundational pillars of modern cinema. Part of me is overwhelmed at the sheer beauty of the cinematography (the chiaroscuro alone had me hot under the collar), and other parts fell really short. When all is said and done, I'm unsure where I stand. Might need a spa retreat away from the movies...

-- Melbourne Cinematheque @ ACMI (1/2) --

Never has the gossamer-thin line between horror and camp been more apparent than The Horrible Dr. Hichcock.

All the usual suspects are here to make a giallo masterpiece. Like its cousins, technicolor shows off its full potential. The walls of Hichcock's massive house boast lavish wallpapers and all the costuming fabrics look lush under the blazing studio lights. What is meant to be soft atmospheric candlelight is communicated to the audience as a character holding a single candle while everything is bathed in studio floodlights. Subtlety isn't out the window; it was never invited in the first place. Every production and story aspect is as loud as it possibly can be.

The plot touches on multiple sources; Edgar Allen Poe, gothic literary fiction and 30s horror cinema. But it deviates from these sources from, well, its sexual deviancy. What makes Dr Hichcock so horrible is his downplayed necrophilia. Unsure if this is due to the weak will of the censors or the writers. For such a key part of the film its intensity is somehow missing, played very frankly by Robert Flemyng. So it takes a spot in a disappointing subgenre of horror I am tentatively calling 'Should have been a lot hornier' (looking at you Egger's Nosferatu). And no, I am not simply trying to see an artful titty; there's a level of anguish in the acting and visual language that feels necessary but is inherently lacking.

I blame this on the plot progression, which can be likened to Mach 5. Details get lost between the cuts, somehow full *days* of plot are skipped when those could be moments of Gothic Horror in and of themselves. Sad that the film's rushed production can be felt so clearly in the final product.

Giallo fans will have a great time, but there's a reason this hasn't stood the test of time.

The historical innacuracies! The weird camera choices! The very 2004 neon green vampire ooze! WHY is Frankenstein and his monster here!?! Where is everyone's accents from!?!?!

But also! Hehe everyone's sexy.

Two stars.

-- Melbourne Cinematheque @ ACMI (2/2) --

If I had a nickel for every time Christopher Lee desperatley tried to hide his involvement in a neo-pagan cult from a wide-eyed visitor to his village from the comfort of his stately manor home, I'd have two nickels. But it's WEIRD it happened twice! (Barely five years apart no less!)

-- Melbourne Cinematheque @ ACMI (1/2) --

This gothic delight is so worth it! Dazzling costumes, beautiful use of dramatic shadows and an entire mod beauty's makeup counter. Perfectly encapsulates the visual aesthetic of 60s medieval revival with all the drama contained within both eras.

Oh and the same three songs repeated over and over again.

This really didn't resonate with me as much as I thought it would... Ended up being disconnected and repetitive.

Propaganda from the US Mint to stop printing those damn pennies! Don't you know they're DEATH TRAPS PEOPLE!?!?

A veritable who’s who of nineties cinema that’s held together by its slick script that hinges on the ultimate queer dilemma; do I want to be with this person or do I want to be them.

I think a seldom-discussed aspect of this film is how Italy is framed as a playground for arrogant and emotionally underdeveloped American debutants. They all want to escape from the eyes of high society, instead becoming totally anonymous while living off Daddy’s allowance. It’s also a world that is exclusionary to both the viewer and our protagonist. Like Tom, we start our journey in the summer heat-stroke daydream of Mongibello and finish in the winter of darkened Venice. The shifting seasons and locations mirror sleep; descending from dream to nightmare.

But let’s also discuss our key players in this dream-land; Damon and Law.

By 1999, Jude Law had got himself into quite the typecast. Most notably as Oscar Wilde’s infamously evil boytoy twink Bosie Douglass in Wilde just two years before. He’s charming and inviting, but there’s always an element of scorn or trickery behind it. But even with his sometimes stilted American accent here, he still dominates every scene. It’s well structured that we hear of the infamous Dickie Greenleaf through his father before we see him. The viewer first envisions a pompous little brat, instead to discover a sun-tanned Adonis with a saxophone. Everyone wants him and it’s obvious to see why.

Then we get to the black hole of the film; Mr Ripley himself. I see why Leo DiCaprio turned down the role, and I would debate that Damon doesn’t quite have the shades in his range to make it work either. Ripley’s ability to string everyone along is acheived half through cunning and half through sheer luck, making me debate what was actually the so-titled talent.

The women are… there. Primarily as beards for our main male menagerie (“I don’t want to kiss my hot male best friend, I have a fIaNcEe!”) but hey the intersection of Dickie and Tom are the primary focus anyway.

Finally, all of this constantly warping identity and sexuality is wrapped in Chet Baker’s “My Funny Valentine” (which happens to be one of my favourite songs, but that’s not the point of why I like its use here).Chet Baker sings of a love that’s a little off-kilter, but overall an adoration of his valentine. It fits the film’s themes perfectly without being too forced. During his jazz-crash course montage, it’s noted that Ripley’s initially unsure if it’s a man or a woman singing. It hints of a love beyond gender, where this type of love can be from any subject or author. This all culminates in Tom singing to Dickie directly at the jazz club. If that’s not a declaration of love, I don’t know what is. Though most menacingly, Ripley’s unwavering eye as he sings “Don’t change a thing for me”. Instruction? Request? Desire? A bit of all three.

It really makes me want to read at least the first novel in the so-called “Riplliad” to really drink in the full Ripley obsession. It feels fitting that a character with so many faces also has many iterations, adaptations and interpretations.

Me and my homies HATE Diego Rivera. Thumbs down every time he's on screen. Lemme clarify NO hate to this fantastic performance by Alfred Molina, simply the sheer CONCEPT of Diego Rivera.

Watched on Wednesday April 30, 2025.

It really did just keep going huh. A landmark in zombie films, but it really just threw every idea and waiting to see what would stick.

Ginger Christopher Eccelston was *quite* the jumpscare.

Even if they seem small and insignificant at the time, all actions can have devastating consequences.

What a beautiful meditation on both humanity and ecology. The council/glamping company meeting should be studied by students, directors and writers alike.

It is annoying in some aspects that most of the plot points aren't neatly solved, but also that's not the film's final contention anyway.

I would debate that evil does in fact exist, but it's commonly far to banal to be thwarted. It's in the ill-prepared spokespeople, it's in the desire to get away from the city, it's in the want to shoot deer. It's in all of us.

Just hearing that there's a film called "The Monk and The Gun" that isn't a goofy wuxia instantly piqued my interest. Then the watercolour-esque colour grading of the trailer really sold me.

It's set in unique time and place; it's 2006 and Bhutan is learning to vote for the first time after the king abdicated the throne after the internet had been introduced to the country. Already a lot to unpack.

It would have been very simple to flatten the shifting cultural and political landscape into "tradition is good and modernisation/voting/outside influence is bad", but it takes a lot of restraint and contemplation to depicts a Bhutan that hasn't yet decided.

The natural order has been inherently disrupted, this is undeniable. Cityscapes clash against Ura's picturesque mountainscapes, voting posters are printed in English and the local lama wants to find two guns by the full moon. There's also (as always) a ridiculous American tourist who is wrapped up in the local drama for Absolutley No Reason. But this unease is approached by all our characters in different ways and deliciously variable levels of enthusiasm.

Though it does get a bit indecisive about when to conclude, making both 'endings' dampen the other's emotional impact, I understand its TIFF and Telluride accolades. Hope to see more from Pawo Choyning Dorji as either a writer or director.

I made a very wise decision to see this in an IMAX cinema. The world of Sinners is so lush and expansive it simply demands to take up as much space as possible; and I happily obliged.

Like any good socially-charged horror, there are two villains at play; the fantastical and the devastatingly ordinary.

First off we have Rennick, the Irish vampire who preaches community and shared plight, but is still the white oppressor. I think a thematically relevant plot detail is that Rennick preys on the group not just for their sense of connection, but specifically for Sammy’s music/time bending powers. He’s been a vampire for so long (referencing Christains who took his home… so over a thousand years by the 1930s) that his own experience of colonial struggle is wholly forgotten in this time period. The vampiric horde feels closer to traditional zombie folklore to me, becoming a looming and hungry hivemind.

Then we have the Klan. They get nowhere near as much screen time, but are (obviously) far more sinister. It’s a dark background force that dictates the lives of all the characters; almost a power too dark to name in fear of setting it off. Smoke’s final bloody vengeance is a deep sigh of catharsis that rounds off the plot nicely, even if the victory feels short lived.

Notably both villains do whatever they can to hide amongst the populus and drain them from the inside; proof that hate groups and their philosophies never actually die but adapt to stay undercover.

As always Ruth E. Carter shines with her costuming, proving once again her comfort in tailoring both Black past and present. This is most obvious in the Smokestack twins, freshly returned with the sharp modern suit tailoring of Chicago. As twins they’re obviously played as a set, but this allows the details to speak to their personalities. Stack’s fedora to represent the Italians and Smoke’s flat cap for the Irish, Stack’s gold tie pin in contrast to Smoke’s more practical fob chain… and that’s simply the twins. Overall it walks the fine line between theatrical and practical in of the production design’s heightened lavish reality. Though I did wish Pearline and Mary’s hair/makeup was slightly more period accurate to mirror this, I must it it’s a very very fine bone to pick.

And how did I get this far without acknowledging Ludwig Göransson, here for the first time as executive producer!?!? Though he started in his usual composing wheelhouse, both he and his wife Serena Göransson (an accomplished classical violinist in her own right) signed on as executive producer once the music became such a core part of the film’s identity. The very first lines of dialogue are an ode to shared culture and music, about those who can resurrect spirits. It positions the blues as the beginning point of the African American cultural diaspora, as the gene was specifically born from racial tensions and struggle. The juke t connects Black joy and music across time, represented by future ghosts (?) that look suspiciously like Bootsy Collins and Pharrell (amongst more general 80s/90s/00s references). That Scene will be seared into my brain for a DAMN while, once again ed by the technological bombascity of IMAX’s surround sound.

It is extremely refreshing that a film actually takes its time to set our scene and explore stakes. I would not have cared or acknowledged Chow’s daughter if it weren’t for the multiple uninterrupted dolly shots as we followed her from one grocery shop to another. It’s small (and my eyes were darting to all the extras) but extremely effective. The viewer becomes momentarily centred in her world.

Despite this careful creation of space and community, it becomes flattened for the sake of genre-specific plot progressions by the third act. To me it felt like a buildup to a flat crescendo, rendering the quieter character interaction moot as I tallied the dead and vampire-ified in my mind. The villain was even vanquished by the sun, a classic that harkens back to Night of the Living Dead and other horror classics. I guess when the enemy is literally racism, the monster is never fully dead.

Part arthouse, part blockbuster; Sinners will be ed as a technical and thematic highlight of the 2020s.

-Fantastic Film Festival 2025 @ Lido-

There’s a deep well of horror inspiration within the collective aesthetics of childhood; creepy puppets, haunted dolls, that trend of slowed down/sinister versions of nursery rhymes… it’s baked into the genre beyond return at this point. I think it partially stems from a sense of alienation when looking back, ed by a demand from both the internal and external worlds to change. Or perhaps that this is seen as a time of wholesomeness and safety, so once it’s warped all sense of comfort is inherently lost.

And Monkey’s Magic Merry Go Around bursts onto screens to question the glorification of What Once Was.

Its edge is how it tackles the newer part of this childish aesthetic; the technological as nostalgic. As worn VHS tapes and cassettes of kid’s shows and music start to decay, as does their sense of safety. The inspiration here is clearly Mister Rogers, even down to James’ dapper outfit and non-threatening buttery voice. As soon as we see Monkey’s very clearly human hand, dark reality is seeping through to this previously pristine place of comfort. Oh yeah, and then all the disembowlment. Deeeefinatley not safe for kids.

It begs to be compared to Late Night With The Devil (Cairnes, 2023), which also tackles the haunted TV recording. I don’t think either of them quite get the role of “the cameraman” just yet. Both protagonists want to stop of change their shows/fates, but it always falls of deaf ears. Why remove power from the most godlike character in these predicaments?
But this is a new subgenre and I can’t wait to see this grow.

Its primary folly is simply its length. As side plots were repeated and remixed continuously, it made me realise why most analogue horror I’ve seen has comprised of short films. The third act almost contained three seperate endings in succession, eliciting a “oh finally” from me rather than any sense of completion.

And this is why I love Fantastic Film Festival (shoutout to Lido and Thornbury Picture House!)

A smaller entry into the Queer Misfit Canon that I had somehow missed. The music is spectacular, as is the animated sequences, but it never quite clicked for me.

Mirrors, of all films, Ferris Bueller's Day Off? The power of a single day with no consequences has a much darker tone here, but the dark humour of their comradery keeps the momentum going.

Stumbled across this on Brollie expecting an entirely different film. Baffling, repetitive and doesn't use its time travel concept to its full potential. Also the kid was really whiny the whole time.

The one thing going for it is the switch from black and white to colour to denote the two time periods. But even that felt a little overdone.

Ironically, when thinking about this film, I seem to rapidly switch between my own internal Mickey 17 and 18s.

On one hand, I want to go into the full details of where M17 fits into Bong Jun Ho's other work. The hyper saturated vision of capitalism. BJH's obsession with winter worlds (one named after Norse mythology at that). Oh and and and the parallels between how the other humans treat Expendable Mickey and the Creepers with a similar level of inhumanity.

But then another wants to talk about how hot everyone is and how That Scene was making me do deep breaths in the cinema.

The extra marinating time moved this from a 3.5 to a 4 for me.

Honestly popped this on while in a completionist mood watching a bunch of cyberpunk films (mainly from the 90s) and was expecting more.

Obviously there's so much going on with the plot and social commentary about technology and inequality, plainly using the LA Riots as a point of contemporary reference.

But then we have Angela Basset as the strongest and most beautiful woman to ever exist being tied down by Ralph Fiennes. Lenny Nero is technically meant to be our protagonist, but I found him so whiny and annoying. DUDE! Your one dimensional ex Faith (who is totally not meant to be Courtney Love) doesn't LOVE YOU ANYMORE can you PLEASE go and solve racism as the plot requires of you.

It stuns me how every device in the modern world, ranging from the screen used to view the film to the laptop I’m using to type this review, was undoubtedly created by unjust labour and horrendous working conditions. A reality that is commonly unseen or willfully ignored. Neptune Frost feels like an antidote to almost a century of European-led science fiction and a searing call to arms.

What stood out to me the most was the use of shifting realities. There are many doors that can be found and ed through, allowing travel between physical and non-physical planes. They mirror the many layers of technological pathways; like the secret yet looking Dark Web. Simply communicated through musical and acting cues, you can feel these slips and seams in space. The doors interlaced the technological and spiritual in a way I was not expecting, but proved very poignant.

The twists and turns, exemplified by the split casting of Neptune between Cheryl Isheja and Elvis Ngabo, do weaken the already “vibes-based” plot structure. It leaves some sections feeling more like mood poems or Socratic dialogues than a narrative film. Though I don’t think this is inherently negative. Its tone and thematic priorities stay iron clad, which keeps the momentum going.

I’m now going to listen to the original concept album and become a bumbling prophet in the streets advocating this film. It’s going to be too high concept to become a household name, but its energy and manifesto refuse to be ignored.

Oh to live the dream (being an ancient Japanese man taking care of multiple shrine cats in a small seaside village)

Clanging metal, fascinating use of special effects and stop motion, a mile-a-minute editing style.

Oh yeah, and our main guy has a massive drill penis and might or might not get pegged by an exhaust pipe.

Messy, sexual, paranoid.

Rewatching with my best friend in the whole world while singing along to all the songs snuggled in a blanket fort cured all my adulting-themed blues.

Turns out love IS all you need. Damn.

EXPLOSIONS! ZOMBIES! UFOS! POSITIVE TRANS REPRESENTATION! THOSE DAMN BOOTY SHORTS!

Everything links back to sex and viscera for this man, and I am always along for the ride.

I had a delightful time seeing Jude Law and his impossibly long eyelashes panting about every tiny thing. His American accent was flimsy at best, but can be forgiven due to the final twist.

The twists and game-within-a-game-ness did get tiring, but they really feel like a product of their time. And also whatever the hell was going on with Allegra’s hair. Cripplingly 90s in its production design.

Infamous rom-com dispiser over here. I wear my badge with honesty.

But! Ok I get it for this one. I think the reason I dislike most rom-coms is because I see how much potential the main characters possess, only for them to throw it away once they get together. Not the case here!! The chaos and conflict comes from *outside* the rock-solid relationship and they actually *do* improve each other.

Did it get a bit repetitive? Yes. The plot basic? Absolutley. But the momentum is in the multiple relationships and Toula's attempts of self-actualisation.

A fun little romp.

Oh boy, this aged like milk.

A time capsule in both positive and deeply concerning ways.

As per usual, Michael Crawford is a bumbling delight, the prototypical Monty Python awkward British Everyman. Here he’s a school maths teacher who is so chronically sexless he asks for tips from his housemate and Worst Person Ever Tolen.

Amongst this, there’s a bold amount of experimentation in the editing and visual style that slots it beautifully amongst its French New Wave contemporaries. Sped up, slowed down and reversed segments pepper this otherwise grounded plot in a way only Richard Lester can get away with. I believe this is where the Cannes praise is centred.

And this is where both my praises and Cannes’ end. Because now we have to get to the issue of the film’s section half. The word ‘rape’ is repeated and misused to the point of incomprehension. I had to take many deep breaths during Tolen’s “seduction” (read: harassment and assault) as the camera creeps in and remains claustrophobic and unflinching. I’ve met many Tolens in my time, and they remain slimy. It was such a jarring reminder that women were still seen as objects. And this is meant to be the “hip”, “new” and “liberated” generation! (As indicated by the older people’s comments about the action, a detail air really liked)

I wouldn’t recommend it, proceed with caution. Especially if you’ve also met these so-called “womanisers” in your past.

This was screened as an opening night for the 2025 Melbourne Women in Film Festival, and it was a perfectly electric choice to set the tone for the festival as a whole.

Historical fiction is a well-trodden ground for both Australian and New Zealand directors, especially when dissecting the lives of colonial women (Campion’s The Piano and Weir’s Picnic at Hanging Rock come to mind from the long long list). But We Were Dangerous adds dimensions of era-appropriate teenage rebellion and more grounded social dynamics that make it feel contemporarily poignant and defiant. As well as small but shining moments of kiwi humour.

It addressed the brutal colonial history of these reforming “schools” and institutions with a refreshing blend of emotional delicacy and hard truth. The plot fits thin at times, but that’s clearly not the artistic priority. Instead, it’s the characters and their power dynamics that fuel all forward progression. And, as all historical films require, many beautiful shots of the island’s landscape to juxtapose the cramped social expectations artificially enforced on *all* the women.

Many viewers were wanting the plot to be more explicitly queer, but I really disagree. The sisterhood (or perhaps I should say cousinhood, to adopt Daisy’s language) is way more powerful than any budding romantic love. The choice to champion friendships as a necessary tool for survival is so underrepresented in cinema overall. Plus, not every queer character has to have a romantic subplot to be “proper representation”.

This film presents a fascinating paradox; can a film have both nothing AND everything happening simultaneously? Yes, apparently it can.

I am now well-versed in the comedy stylings of Richard Lester, where surreal visual bits exist in the background with no aknowledgement by any of the characters. The coloured army men (styled like the childrens toy)? The one private who aquires more clown attire throughout the plot? The pinup women posing on the battlefields? I was feverishly trying to connect it all together to no effect.

The fourth wall is also gossimer-thin, with multiple narrators and actors doing asides directly to camera. My favourite was the one private who kept saying 'I'm going to die in North Africa' who survives to the end of the film (set in ).

Then we get to the actors themselves. I think the only reason anyone re HIWTW is the inclusion of a delightfully dry John Lennon who is very easy on the eyes. Fresh from filming Help! the year before, he has about 10 minutes of airtime in this near 2 hour palava. However, due to some bizarre production stories (look it up), this accidently becomes a small but significant part of the Beatles canon as a whole. Strawberry Fields Forever would not exist without the filming of this sorta-pro-war sorta-anti-war jumble of a film. Crazy.

Minus points for ernest and unecessary blackface and the nazi salute. OBVIOUSLY.

Watched on Friday March 14, 2025.

Seen as part of Birrarangga Film Festival with an extremely special Q&A with many of the activists in the film, including Robbie himself.

It packs such a punch into its short runtime, with editing between dynamic talking heads and footage from the decades of protests and resistance featuring Robbie and the Thorpes as a family.

It was especially powerful in its focus on how the direct action and ideology of the Fitzroy Aboriginal Scene in the 1970s powers the current struggle.

The cinema was alight with positivity and joy. The best screening experiences of the year so far.

A gem of pure queer nonsense that has aged a lot better than I was expecting.

Mistaken identities are one of my personal favourite plot lines (see my North by Northwest review to see it in full force) and this has so many mistaken identities that they layer onto each other to goofily grand proportions. It's practically begging for a double feature with 1996's The Birdcage

I've now watched four of Richard Lester's films; and he proves time and time again that there are some problems that only cross-dressing can solve. Because the best way to sneak out of a gay bathhouse in the 1970s was to?? dress up as a woman?? Obviously.

Rita Moreno is a delight as always, proving why she won the Tony award for the original stage production. In addition to Treat Williams as the inexplicably chipmunk-voiced detective. And I shall never forget the random bathhouse attendants named Hunk and Tiger. Perfection.

Everything fits together so well in this delight of a film that somehow, by the grace of some unknown god, es the Bechdel test.

After the electric hijinx of Help! (1965), I've been falling down a Richard Lester Rabbit Hole.

AFTOTWTTF walked so Horrible Histories could run. Yes I know it's an adaptation of the Sondheim musical, but the historically flavoured goofiness (which truly culmimates in chariot-case that last FAR too long) feels so inherently British to me.

The few songs that remain from the original production feels so random and forgettable.

Overall, this is a bizarre gem with overwhelming levels of sexism and buffonery.

Spectacular views on Paul McCartney's arse. A masterpiece.

Genuinely though what a fun time!!

This film forgot, ed for a split second and then FORGOT THAT WE ARE IN THE VIETNAM WAR!!! ok time for more Beach Boys and impressions of celebrities I had to frantically google.

Watched on Thursday February 20, 2025.

Watched on Friday February 14, 2025.

Damn, those eunuchs really scheming

Terrifying, uncomfortable, perfect.

This film has been seemingly in my periphery for a while, and I am so glad I waited for my local cinema’s J-Horror season to see it on the big screen.

Don’t know what else to say except I was completely bewitched. This almost isn’t the space to write all of my thoughts. A thesis maybe, one I chip away at writing for the next decade or so.

How the narrative unravels as Mima feels the effects of her fame, as well as her split-off ghostly idol persona continuously haunting her was masterful.

Fame will always be disgustingly exploitative, yet necessary for those in the performing arts to thrive.

Right of the bat I will address the elephant in the room; that this film has not aged well at ALL. The "Mystic Aboriginie" trope is in full force here. They are silent, misunderstood yet wise beyond comprehension. A fact to be studied rather than a people with an existent working culture.

With that out of the way, the foreboding sense throughout the film was handled really well. I was expecting a more biblical explanation for the rains, but the integration with the prophets worked well.

Was it corny that David was ~accepted into the tribe~ due to his seemingly prophetic dreams? Oh absolutely. There's a lot more to nitpick (why did the rock art look so mayan?) but I won't get bogged down in negativity.

Overall, it acts as an accurate and uncomfortable snapshot of White Australia at the time.

I have now seen Lynch’s Eraserhead three times. The first time was in high school with my laptop under the covers; the most rebellious way possible. I wanted to be Cultured so so badly, regardless of the nightmares it gave me. I’d also just finished Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale which combined to give me a very warped view of men and the so-called ‘outside world’ beyond my all-girl’s schooling.

The next time was for uni. That review is still on Letterboxd. It reflects my horror once again. But I was a burgeoning first year who thought I was the only one thinking deeply about film in the entirety of the world. I hadn’t ed the sound design the first time around, and I fell in love with it. It’s a film that paradoxically is structured like a silent film, yet is also exceptionally loud. Wind tunnels and tense strings overlap to depict the groaning of a world seemingly on the brink of collapse.

Obviously much has happened since then, both in my world and the broader one. My local cinema has begun their Lynch season to honour his ing. The first time with the crisp 4K restoration and that cacophonous sound consuming me. And yet, with all of this in mind, my one sentence summary remains the same:

“A pinpoint on a map that doesn’t exist”

What gets left behind in Eraserhead’s discussions is that it can easily be interpreted as post-apocalyptic. The decay present in the set designs and minimalist script itch the same neurons in my brain as Samuel Beckett’s work, especially Endgame. In the notable few scenes shot outside, there’s not a single live plant. There are some trees in Mary’s front garden, but they’re no better than sticks.

And amongst all of this, the weird waltz of social conventions remains. I find this to be the core of dark comedy. It’s people desperate for some kind of normalcy. Do they even notice that the world is crumbling? It’s up for debate.

It’s impossible for me to interpret this film without a feminist framework. The three female characters are only defined in their relationships to men (in a perfectly symmetrical maiden/mother/crone triptych), they are all haunted and incomplete. They act as tools, damnation and entertainment for Henry. It’s notable that Mary is smoothed down as a character until she is nothing but an inciting incident, bringing the horror of the alien child and all the responsibility it represents but somehow not the challenge of upkeep a mature adult relationship.

The intended reading is a bit more of the “How did I get here?” questioning that occurs at a certain age. When the expected act of “going through the motions” comes to a head and cannot be undone. Henry’s time of vacation (both literally and metaphorically) is abruptly cut off by his own actions. He is so awkward and childlike when he is questioned by Mary’s mother and I was cringing along with the rest of the audience.

This is so minor but I want to shout-out one of my favourite visuals, which is actually the Girl Next Door and Henry descending into the pool/bed. It’s hard to explain but I really love it. It’s descending into sin. It doesn’t have any weight in the plot whatsoever, but it’s up there is weirdly-sexy-sex-scenes.

“I’m not queer, I’m disembodied”

I took my seat in a completely sold-out preview session at my local cinema. The energy was palpable, with many cheers as the opening credits started. This energy of anticipation of sexy gay fun quickly evaporated. For the next two-ish hours, the room felt airless.

When it comes to William S. Burroughs, I’d only read Junkie before this, so I had an idea of his style and general American sensibilities when it comes to love, addiction and loneliness. But even that didn’t prepare me for Queer.

The first chapter is brimming with promise. Especially in of the sun-drenched cinematography which feels like a mature evolution of the noon-sun of Call Me By Your Name. Mexico City is always on the verge of sunset, the line between known and unknown.

Then it simply kept going. Pacing drew to an absolute crawl in this non-adventure. At the centre was the emotional core of Lee and Eugene’s relationship, which had the bones of a love story but none of the energy to keep it going. This is intentional; Eugene is the physical representation of desire and aspiration that makes withering Lee look even more pitiful.

Lee’s journey through the rainforest, both spiritually and physically, drained me as a viewer. He will never have the connection and clarity he so desperately seeks.

A quick note on the music. Anachronistic music has worked before, like Peaky Blinders and Marie Antoinette because their scores reflect the energy or emotional beats rather than the time period. The music choices simply do not work here. Nirvana was a jarring choice. Why.

All together it becomes a messy and disembodied ghost of a love story. A ghost of a plot. Like its protagonist, the energy for progression has left the building, left to languish.

After the shiningly complex jewel of Challengers, I can confidently predict that Queer will be ed as a minor point in Guadagnino’s oeuvre; a bonus question in pub film trivia in decades to come.

The early 2000s really had the perfect combination of features to allow Japanese horror to skyrocket in popularity; and most of these elements are on display in Ju-On.

Japan's deep history of ghost stories and yokai butt against the hyper modernisation of the nation. What happens to the old ghosts of the old world when a society wants to do everything to distance itself from its past? You get generational, angry and lingering ghosts like The Grudge.

Similarly to Ringu, the first major trait I noticed about the hauntings was heir use of technology. Each of the ghosts manipulated some kind of tech; from mobile phones with that iconic creaking to the security footage and tvs. This felt notable in the advancement of horror as a genre because it signified that the victims could physically run and hide as much as they wanted, but their demise was inevitable.

The non-linear storytelling via the 'chapters' focusing on each of the victims was a very cool idea, but there were times where I felt really lost to our current place on the timeline.

To me, Ju-On is larger than the sum of its parts and distinctly places itself in the history of horror films as a whole.

When this film was described to me as "Japanese Scooby Doo on Acid" I distinctly thinking 'well it surely can't be *that* crazy, right?'

Dear reader, I would debate it's even zanier than that.

House is undeniably a bizarre and technical wonder. Even crazier is that the plot is surprisingly simple, placing a cannibalistic witch ghost in a haunted house with a dancing skeleton and a cat with laser eyes. Pretty standard stuff.

The combination of traditional and newer techniques such as looping audio and visuals, early green screen and matte paintings also aid the atmosphere. The world of House exists in its own dream-like pseudo-reality that still feels grounded. "Fairy" might be a weird name but when your friends are named "Kung Fu", "Sweet" and "Fantasy" suddenly the roll-call feels more fleshed out.

All eighty-eight minutes of this ride kept me glued, spooked and giggling. Perfection.

Watched on Saturday January 18, 2025.

Whoops I think I've developed a new parasocial bestie. Her physical comedy is spectacular and only ever s her musings on life and love. And yes I agree, Jim Henson is also the the only white man I trust.

The Holy Grail's less pretty younger sister. He was really trying out ideas for what makes one of my favourites so great.

But good lord I should NOT have related so much to a peasant trying to make a name for himself in ye olde bigge citie. Oh yeah and the authoritarian overlords allowing great evil to occur because it actively benefits them.

This film introduced me to the concept of both puppet racism and INTER-puppet racism I will never be ok with these implications for the MCU (Muppets Cinematic Universe)

Can't get enough of the futuristic visions at ACMI's exhibition The Future and Other Fictions? Here's some extra reading! Spanning documentaries about transhumanists to more fictional predictions of our future.

• Donna Haraway: Story Telling for Earthly Survival
• Sleep Dealer
• Dangerous Days: Making Blade Runner
• Cyberpunk: Edgerunners
• Soylent Green
• Trumbull Land
• Moon
• Children of Men
• Metropolis
• Sunshine

...plus 9 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.

Since the beginning of cinema, directors and other creatives have used the medium to envision our future and the societies within them. Shining utopias clash again gritty cyberpunk cityscapes and afrofuturist fashion. High tech, low brow and everything in between.

This is a compendium of EVERY film referenced in ACMI’s blockbuster exhibition “The Future and Other Fictions”. This can be from a single poster to entire displays.They are listed in chronological order.

• Metropolis
• Forbidden Planet
• Alphaville
• 2001: A Space Odyssey
• Je T'Aime, Je T'Aime
• Planet of the Apes
• Barbarella
• A Clockwork Orange
• A Rite of age
• Sleeper

...plus 78 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.

A list to make you go "Wait, THAT'S a Christmas movie"? And the answer is always yes.

These films are explicitly set during Christmas, without it being the focal point. No warm fuzzy feelings here.

• Eyes Wide Shut
• Die Hard
• Female Trouble
• Brazil
• 2046