Review: A Big Bold Beautiful Journey

David (Colin Farrell) needs to get to a wedding. Problem: his car just died. Solution: the world's quirkiest car rental place, where a pair of maybe-sinister, maybe just hamming it up types (Kevin Kline and Phoebe Waller-Bridge) rent him a thirty year old car and then go hard on the upsell to get him to add a GPS to the deal. If this doesn't sound all that dramatic to you, bad news: this is pretty much as dramatic as it's going to get.

Eventually he arrives at the wedding, where he meets fellow singleton Sarah (Margot Robbie). They don't hit it off, then they do, kinda. He fumbles the ball, she gives him a regretful look (then sleeps with someone else), and on the drive home his GPS asks him if he wants to go on a "big bold beautiful journey". He says yes and it steers him into a tree.

Just kidding! It instead steers him into a third meet-cute with Sarah, and thanks to her equally old, equally rented car failing to start, he offers her a lift back to the city where they both live. Along the way the GPS keeps directing them to mysterious doors that lead to memorable scenes from their past - some uplifting, others a bit more downbeat - and if you're wondering if they really did die in a car crash or something, rest assured that they did not. They just like walking through portals to the past.

The whole point is a kind of interactive therapy session, where the pair - who both have serious issues with intimacy - go over their past to try and figure out what went wrong and how they can find their way to a place where they can accept that the person sitting across from them is in fact right for them. Fortunately they're played by Farrell and Robbie, otherwise this would be unbearable.

Director Kogonada (After Yang) knows there's not a lot to work with in terms of plot so this goes all-out with the visuals while providing plenty of opportunities for both leads to pump out the star wattage. It's a good-looking movie about two good-looking people flirting away like crazy then pulling away because their broken hearts can't take one more failed romance. What's not to like?

Unfortunately the unreality and schmaltz of it all undercuts the emotion, leaving this as little more than an illustrated version of a 100 minute deep and meaningful conversation that isn't quite as enthralling as the two participants think. 

Hollywood loves to strip "love" down to an imagined essence, a primal force that exists on a plain divorced from the human condition. As anyone who's actually been in love knows, the real world - the background landscape this duo merely drive through - plays a big part in who we connect with and why. 

Here, aside from some family history, we know next to nothing about these characters. Jobs, hobbies, friends, political opinions, they're nowhere to be seen. Without that, this unreal fable carries about as much weight as the balloons that drift away meaningfully at some point for some reason.

That said, sit through to the end of the credits for the shock twist that Sarah voted three times for Trump while David works for a migrant welfare organisation. Just kidding! They're saving that for the sequel.

- Anthony Morris 

Review: The Long Walk

In an economically depressed version of the USA that never really recovered from "the war" that tore the nation apart almost twenty years ago, the best idea they can come up with to motivate workers into being more productive is to have 50 young men walk non-stop until only one remains. It's starting to make sense why their economy is in the toilet.

Oh, and by "only one remains" they mean "we kill anyone who slows down for more than a few seconds". Add in the fact that the walk takes place through hundreds of miles of grimly rundown countryside, broken only by the occasional gawker (spectators are firmly discouraged until the walk's final stretch) or saluting cop, and that the repeated headshot murders are broadcast live, and it's very clear that something ain't right in the nation led by the drill-sergeant-esque Major (Mark Hamill).

But Stephen King has never been much of one for logic when it comes to setting, and The Long Walk - written by King back in the late 60s and published a decade later under the pen name he used for his more off-brand works, Richard Bachmann - was more blatantly metaphorical than most. A group of young men sent off to die pointlessly by a cruel government while their deaths were broadcast to the nation? Written during the Vietnam War? Not hard to connect the dots there.

That explains director Francis Lawrence's commitment here to an old-fashioned vibe, with cars, clothes, camera and guns all firmly placing this dystopia somewhere between the mid 60s to mid 70s. Together with a barely sketched-in setting (we learn almost nothing about the wider dystopia) it serves to make the whole thing seem more timeless - or just a reminder that this is a King adaptation, with his fondness for setting his horrors in what is usually a more warmly remembered past.

As a King adaptation, this feels of a piece with works like Stand By Me and It, where a group of well-outlined youngsters come together, form a bond, make a bunch of jokes, and face down death. The difference is that there's no outwitting death here, and poking it with a stick gets you a bullet in the face.

With no flexibility as far as the structure goes - after an initial scene with Raymond (Cooper Hoffman) and his mother (Judy Greer) and a flashback later in proceedings, the whole movie is just one long walk - it's the relationships that form between the characters that's basically the whole deal. If we don't care about them, then it's just a bunch of random death along an endless stretch of road.

Fortunately, there isn't a false note to be found in the performances here, especially Raymond's eventual buddy Pete (David Jonsson). Even the ones that seem a little stagey at first are revealed to be bravado or unease in the face of near certain-death. These young men (the entry age is 18, but at least one character lies about that to get in) have thrown themselves into a machine that is going to kill them, and they all realise that in their own way before their end.

Which is to say this is a film where you get to know a collection of mostly likable characters who you then get to see die in the most senseless way possible. Powerful, gut-wrenching and relentless, The Long Walk is a straightforward idea taken to a brutally logical conclusion. This walk will stay with you long after the end credits.

-Anthony Morris 

Review: The Conjuring: Last Rites

The horror genre has delivered a lot of excellent film-making over the last decade or more - seriously, there's no genre out there that more consistently punches above its weight - but that kind of excellence can only thrive when there's a solid foundation of predictable, crowd-pleasing, almost instantly forgettable films audiences can rely on to do a passable job. Welcome to the Conjuring franchise.

There have been a few winners over the years. The Annabelle movies, tracing the history of the evil doll currently caged in the Warren's basement, were about, you know, an evil doll: automatic win there. And The Nun movies, about an evil nun who... possessed a painting? They were often surprisingly full throttle when it came to just throwing scary stuff at the screen.

But it always came back to Ed and Lorraine Warren (Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga), renowned paranormal investigators - well, renowned unless you actually looked up anything at all about their real life activities, in which case yikes. Pretty much the only way to enjoy these movies is to pretend they're about fictional characters investigating fictional cases, an approach the movies themselves are more than happy to encourage.

Supposedly this film is about their final case; the opening makes it very clear they were well on their way out even before people started spewing up broken glass and hanging themselves in a church. It's 1986 - though it often looks a decade or more before that: one of this film's secret strengths is the way it realises that for most people the world is always at least a few years out of date - and the Warrens are giving poorly attended lectures to disinterested teens shouting out lines from Ghostbusters, which is a much better movie than this one.

The birth of their first and only child Judy (Mia Tomlinson, taking over from Sterling Jerins) was messed up by an evil mirror inherited by a young woman who literally vanishes from the story (when asked about her later, Ed says "we don't know what happened to her"); 22 years later, the mirror turns up in Pittsburgh as a confirmation gift for the Smurl family's teen daughter. It's creepy, she hates it, she and her sister throw it out but uh oh, that only makes things worse. Who you gonna call?

Ed's heart attack (as seen in The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It) and Lorraine's worries that she's passed on her psychic gift to Judy mean they waffle about for ages before deciding to help the Smurls, providing plenty of time to explore the relationship between Judy and besotted beau Tony (Ben Hardy). Will they become the next generation of spectre-seekers, battling grunge ghosts in the early 90s? Guess that all depends on the box office.

None of this makes all that much sense but there's a decent atmosphere around the hellish Pittsburgh house (this was filmed in the UK) and the jump scare stuff is mostly effective. It's a long slow build up to an "all hell breaks loose" exorcism ending - evil grannies, an axe wielding farmer, and a holy book that bursts into flames all make an appearence - and while none of it is all that memorable, it's a decent enough amusement park ride through the usual spooky cliches.

The good news for regular church-goers is that this is about as overtly religious as a mainstream US film (currently) gets. The bad news is that all your faith is pretty much useless when a demonic force gets you in its sights. Just ask the spectacularly useless priest in this; looks like we're going to need a bigger crucifix.

- Anthony Morris 

 

Review: But Also John Clarke

A documentary about John Clarke starts off with one huge advantage: it's got John Clarke in it. The New Zealand born comedian who made Australia his home was one of the most effortlessly likable and charming features of both countries' media landscapes, which possibly explains how he managed to get away with so much over so many years.

So this is a must see straight out the gate. Directed by Clarke's daughter Lorin Clarke, this works on pretty much every level you could ask for. Skillfully crafted personal history, peek behind the curtain at the history of his long running satirical segment opposite Bryan Dawe, potted history of Fred Dagg and by extension the origin of New Zealand comedy and much more besides, it's a constantly engaging look at a creative whirlwind who also seems to have been a top bloke in person.

With access to what seems to have been a seemingly endless archive, large sections of this are narrated by Clarke himself in a mix of public appearances and home movies. His extensive written work gets a solid look in as well, with a lengthy collection of his peers and co-workers (ranging from Andrew Denton and Shaun Micallef to Ben Elton, Wendy Harmer and Rhys Darby) reading out snippets in between providing their own insights and recollections. Lorin herself chimes in at times, deftly reminding us that along with everything else he was also a loving father, and a very inspiring one at that.

Add in an insightful look at Clarke's own personal life (where a lifelong dislike of authority was instilled by a school he hated so much there's a note in the end credits to let us know his views towards the school later mellowed), Sam Neill getting emotional more than once, and a reminder that Farnarkling was a craze that swept the nation, and you'd almost think this was too much of a good thing - if such a view was possible where Clarke was concerned.

Instead, this often gives the impression of barely scraping the surface. Which is exactly the impression a look at a man as talented and creative as Clarke should give. Put together with loving care while allowing Clarke's humanity to shine through, this works whether you're a longtime fan wanting to see your favourite works remembered, someone after an overview of a career that spanned multiple decades and formats, or simply looking for a tribute to a man who always had a mischievous twinkle in his eye - even, as Andrew Denton points out, when he was on radio.

-Anthony Morris 

Review: Honey Don't!

Hitting our shores on a wave of mixed reviews out of the USA, Honey Don't! is the kind of film that definitely has problems if you're looking for them. It also has a fair bit going for it if you're willing to meet it at its own level - which, to be clear, is a pretty shallow level. But when it's a film about a lesbian PI investigating a case packed with wacky types you weren't seriously expecting "deep".

Honey O'Donohue (Margaret Qualley) is a love 'em and leave 'em California small town private investigator who feels bad that she never got back to a client in trouble before she (the client) died in a fairly suspicious car crash. So she decides to dig around, and uncovers a string of over-the-top types vaguely linked to a local preacher (Chris Evans) running a church that's big on bringing people to the lord via sex (with him).

Movies about private investigators have a long and proud tradition of not really making much sense. This barely hangs together, even when it throws in a few twists - Honey's niece (Talia Ryder) goes missing (or does she?), Honey strikes up a relationship with one cop (Aubrey Plaza) while brushing off another one (Charlie Day) - but eventually there's an answer of sorts.

This is a film where getting there is pretty much all the fun. A striking Qualley is largely the (not-so) straight man to a bunch of comedy types who are all playing it very broad but rarely stick around long enough to get annoying. Neither does the film at barely 90 minutes - big thanks to co-writer / director Ethan Coen (working with his wife Tricia Cooke) there. 

Oh yeah, it's directed by one half of the Coen brothers. If you're someone who's been worshipping the ground they walk on for the last few decades then a): good work forgetting films like The Ladykillers and Intolerable Cruelty, and b): this probably feels like a pale reflection of past glories. 

While it's true this is operating in a register the Coens made their own without ever reaching the heights of their best work, that doesn't make it a failure. Again, it definitely has flaws. For one, Honey is surrounded by over-acting, which sometimes makes it hard to figure out which deaths are tragic and which ones are more like "guess that just happened".

For another, the plot never comes together to resolve much of anything, which possibly is intentional. Again, often the problem is tonal; some elements are built up but turn out to only be there so something else can happen, while more than once an inevitable development is either ignored or skipped over.

But Honey Don't! is a decent small town noir investing heavily in the idea that a bunch of steamy lesbian sex - or ogling, or even just banter - can make up for its flaws. Better films have skated by on less.

- Anthony Morris 

Review: Relay

Sneaking in under the radar, Relay is the kind of small scale, procedure-based thriller that rarely makes it to the big screen these days. Which is a shame; it'd be nice to think there was room in cinemas for something more than big budget franchises and horror movies, even as the box office constantly says otherwise.

The premise is straightforward: if you are a whistleblower who changes your mind - you want to give the incriminating evidence back to the evil corporation and just get on with your life - then Ash (Riz Ahmed) is the intermediary who will keep you safe and handle the delicate negotiations. Not face to face, of course, as a big part of this movie is about laying out the extreme levels of secrecy he applies to his operations. 

For one, "relay" refers to the fact that all his phone calls go through an untraceable phone relay service for the deaf. They're not allowed to record or monitor the calls in any way shape or form, and he never has to speak - he types in the words, the relay service has someone speak them to the person on the other end. And his secrecy doesn't stop there.

This, we rapidly realise, is a good thing. His latest case involves a scientist (Lily James) who has changed her mind about spilling the beans regarding a dodgy strain of wheat. Only she's already being targeted by a squad led by Dawson (Sam Worthington), who want the info back and don't trust Ash in the slightest. 

What follows is a game of cat and mouse (think a low tech version of one of the good Jason Bourne movies) as Ash runs everyone ragged to put all the pieces in place without being identified, while Dawson and his team are constantly drawing ever closer to tearing off his (proverbial) mask.

There is slightly more going on here, but it's also the one area where the film isn't quite as smart as it thinks it is. Fortunately, the whole thing works as a procedural no matter what, and it's more a matter of how the tension is released (either all at once or over a longer period) than the film relying on a big reveal to work.

Out of the three main characters Worthington is clearly having fun as a stock standard highly competent badass, while Ahmed gets to slowly open up in a journey that's constantly engaging even if what's revealed is somewhat predictable. James as a fairly generic damsel in distress is possibly the least interesting of the three, though a close study of her character does reveal a few layers that spice things up a little as her bond with Ash grows.

Satisfying more as a step-by-step look at a bunch of smart people trying to outsmart each other than as a high octane thrill-ride, Relay is the kind of espionage drama that'll always find a receptive audience. Whether that audience is in cinemas or streaming remains to be seen: there's still time for audiences to have their say.

- Anthony Morris 

 

Review: The Naked Gun

The problem with making a comedy that's more than "merely" a comedy is that pretty much anything is easier to do than comedy. Once you start down the path of making a comedy only, you know, the dramatic scenes are treated seriously, it's not long before you've got a half baked drama with a few limp gags scattered throughout. It takes creatives who take comedy seriously to make a film that's just trying to be funny from start to finish, which brings us to The Naked Gun.

A sequel of sorts to a much-loved and very silly 80s comedy franchise that's currently seen as a high water mark of a genre nobody really misses, this particular do-over has been a while coming. So much so that it initially was surfing a completely different wave, in the form of the brief feature-length comedy renaissance of Family Guy creator Seth MacFarlane, whose success with talking teddy bear movie Ted briefly had him as the saviour of big screen comedy.

Fortunately it took so long to put the puzzle pieces together that MacFarlane himself stepped back to merely produce, and while Liam Neeson (who'd worked with MacFarlane) stuck around as Frank Drebin Jr, new director Akiva Schaffer (Hot Rod) brought in his own writers to create this particular 85-odd minutes of non-stop comedy wrapped around a loose parody of police mysteries and action drama.

And "non-stop" is no exaggeration: that previously mentioned genre that nobody misses is the one where the jokes come thick, fast, and in pretty much every form available. In early examples like Airplane! (Flying High! in Australia), Top Secret! and The Naked Gun, the mix of genre parody and whatever the creative team thought would get a laugh often struck comedy gold; by 2008's Meet The Spartans, nobody was having much of a good time.

The Naked Gun (2025) works mostly because the jokes are funny, both in isolation and taken together. They're usually so silly they'd float away if not for the weight of the gruff performance from Neeson and the... not exactly gravitas or sense of legacy, but in that ballpark... that the original Naked Gun has gained over the years. 

Forty years on, the original is seen as a real movie. It's something to live up to, and the fact this clearly tries to do so - even if the way it tries is through a lot of stupid-smart jokes - makes it feel like a real movie in a way that, say, most of Adam Sandler's efforts for Netflix do not.

So jokes so stupid they come out the other side and seem almost smart: this has plenty of them. Not all of them work, and sometimes you can see where the jokes that didn't work were cut, but mostly this gets the laughs it goes for - and it goes for a lot. Pamela Anderson is the surprise MVP here, and it turns out two leads who are good at playing it serious in a crazy world are all you need.

The Naked Gun knows where it's going and it does everything it can to make sure it gets there; would that more of Hollywood's more serious products could manage that.

- Anthony Morris