Macbeth

If the only goal director Geoffrey Wright had for his movie career was to make a classic piece of Australian cinema, he could have retired after his debut feature Romper Stomper. For most cinema-goers, he did: after his uneven follow-up Metal Skin he headed to Hollywood, where a string of bad luck saw a decade pass with only the quirky teen horror Cherry Falls to his name. Returning to Australia and low-budget film-making for a version of Macbeth set in Melbourne’s underworld, many wondered whether he could still make a film with the power and intelligence seen in Romper Stomper. Here’s the short answer: yes.

This is a Macbeth where the witches are sexy schoolgirls who appear on a nightclub dancefloor shrouded in mist from a smoke-machine and Macbeth’s downfall comes in the form of a Scarface-style gun battle. But though the setting is a glamourous gangster’s paradise the story remains the same: driven by ambition, his wife (Victoria Hill), and the fortellings of three witches, Macbeth (Sam Worthington) murders his boss Duncan (Gary Sweet) and sets himself up in his place, only to see his kingdom crumble into suspicion and bloodshed that leads all-too-swiftly to his own downfall.

It’s not just the plot that’s unchanged; these gun-toting mobsters in flashy suits speak Shakespeare’s original dialogue in a bravura move that, thanks to the cast’s natural range of Aussie accents, doesn’t always pay off. Wright’s clearly gone for attitude in his casting – a Macbeth with Gary Sweet as Duncan is a version not afraid to admit it’s going for a certain kind of mood – and it gives the film a rough-edged energy that’s all too often absent from Australian film.

Worthington grows into his role as the film goes on; by the final battle he brings off a leather kilt like he was born to it. Equally powerful is Lachy Hulme’s slow burn as Macduff, while Hill as Lady Macbeth is equally adept at ruthless ambition and crippling madness. But the biggest surprise – and perhaps the film’s most impressive performance – comes from Mick Molloy. Cast against type as a creepy and brutal murderer, he brings real menace to every scene he’s in.

Wright isn’t quite back to his Romper Stomper form here. Some scenes don’t quite work, and the play’s somber mood doesn’t always gel with the high energy approach this version takes. But Wright’s Macbeth has energy and passion to spare; whatever its flaws, films like this are too rare to pass by.

Anthony Morris

(this review appeared in The Big Issue)

The Extra

Five years in the making - well, the writing at least - The Extra poses the cinematic question: how long do you really need to write a film this average? Sure, there's stuff to enjoy in this almost fairy-tale like story of a would-be actor (scriptwriter Jimeoin) who comes to the big city hoping to be a star but ends up as an extra / leather bar dancer who stumbles into both a (not-so-big) break and love. Jimeoin is a likeable screen presence, Bob Franklin as the shaven-headed night-club owner / movie buff villain deserved a larger role, and Shaun Micallef as a detective / host of a 'crime-stoppers'-style show is a highlight. Problem is, there's no real reason for his character to even be in this film, and he's not the only one. Worse, the story takes forever to get started, and when it does it's too bogged down in subplots and extra characters to really take off. On their own, some individual scenes work well (the romance between Jimeoin's un-named character and fellow extra Claudia seems to belong in a different, much better, movie), but they never come together as anything like a solid story. If The Extra was funnier, none of this would matter. But the laughs are few and far between, and the uneven tone suggests the film-makers weren't even sure how funny a film they wanted to make. Whatever they were aiming for, it must have been better than this.

Anthony Morris

(this review appeared in Forte#347)

Little Fish

If ever a film was crushed by the burden of big expectations, Little Fish is it. Directed by Rowan Woods (his first film since The Boys), and with Cate Blanchett (in her first local effort in years) heading up an all-star cast, this had hit written all over it. So what went wrong? Well, for a film that's beautifully shot, wonderfully acted, and has some really impressive sound design, it seems kind of strange that no-one ever asked if an audience really wanted to sit through a half-hour story dragged out to close to two hours. Basically ex-junkie Tracey Heart (Blanchett) wants to start her own business in Sydney's Vietnamese west but she can't get a loan. She hangs out with her mum's ex (Hugo Weaving), her brother (Martin Henderson) acts dodgy, her old boyfriend (21 Jump Street's Dustin Nguyen) returns after years away and wanders around a bit, and a retiring crime figure (Sam Neill) wonders what his right-hand man is up to. Sure, it's important for a movie to have interesting characters - and no-one here is boring - but they eventually have to do interesting things and that's where this falls down. Little Fish is yet another arty character study, and we just don't need any more right now.

Anthony Morris

(this review appeared in Forte#358)

You and Your Stupid Mate

Everywhere you go across this wide brown land, you’ll find people having a good old laugh. They’re laughing with friends and relatives, they’re laughing in clubs and cafes, they’re even chuckling by themselves at an old joke or funny story they’ve just remembered. In fact, the only place where you won’t find people laughing is inside a cinema showing an Australian comedy. From a distance, the engagingly lowbrow approach of You and Your Stupid Mate holds out the hope that it might be the film to buck the trend. But unfortunately, keeping your distance is probably the best move as far as the adventures of dim-witted buddies Jeffery (Angus Sampson) and Phillip (Nathan Phillips) are concerned. This tale of how our heroes’ personal obsessions (Jeffery wants to save the dignity of axed soap Sons and Surf while Phillip wants to become a star via the Scouts and Guides’ Gang Show) are threatened by the work-for-the-dole schemes of their new case manager (William McInnis) is decently constructed and generally well-acted. It’s also packed with wall-to-wall ‘jokes’ that fall flat thanks to an approach to film-making that values pretty much anything over actually being funny. Writers Dave O’Neil and Mark O’Toole have proved elsewhere that they’re funny guys; maybe elsewhere is where they should have stayed, because this feels more like a film written by guys sitting around going “yeah, the kids’ll laugh at this” than something anyone involved actually laughed at. And be warned: if zero laughs weren’t reason enough to stay away, this also features a cameo from Eddie Maguire that proves that as actors go, he’s a great Collingwood president.

Anthony Morris (this review appeared in Forte #349)

The Magician

Opening with a garage execution that’s the most convincing movie murder you’ll see this year, The Magician manages to seem fresh and new without having an original bone in its body. Made for around $3000, its premise is simple: for some unknown reason, low-rent Melbourne hit-man Ray Shoesmith (writer- director Scott Ryan) has decided to let his friend and neighbour Massimo ‘Max’ Totti (cinematographer Massimiliano Andrighetto) make him the subject of a low budget documentary.

It’s a warts-and-all portrait, as Ray has no qualms whatsoever about allowing his kidnappings, bashings, and killings to appear on camera. The result is an episodic film where Ray’s conversations on life, family, Wayne Carey and thieving junkies alternate with his brutal yet often comic dealings with his victims, including a double-dipping drug dealer (Ben Walker) who manages to (maybe) stave off death with talk of a large wad of cash buried on his father’s farm.

For crime fans, this is hardly ground-breaking stuff. The style and setting owes a clear (and acknowledged) debt to the writings of Mark ‘Chopper’ Read, the likeable hit-man is a Hollywood cliche, and the conceit of a documentary crew following around a killer goes back at least as far as Man Bites Dog (1992). But so what? With a local film industry seemingly obsessed in recent years with the personal problems of the articulate and handsome, making a film about a blue collar thug seems positively radical.

Almost as impressive is the way this turns the typical weaknesses of low budget film-making into strengths. Don’t have much money? Come up with a story that logically could only be shot on wobbly video. Can’t afford an experienced cast? Create scenarios that’ll hold an audiences’ attention (you’d have to mess up pretty badly to make a scene where a character is forced to dig his own grave at gunpoint dull), then let the actors improvise their dialogue to keep the performances fresh.

The result – standing in stark contrast to just about every local big-screen comedy in recent memory – is packed with ‘funny’ moments that are actually funny. The humour might be as blunt as Ray’s methods of conflict resolution but it works, thanks largely to an astonishingly charming and always compelling performance from first-time actor Ryan. He’s put together, and his performance holds together, one of the sharpest low-budget efforts in years. It’s the kind of film we need to be making more of.

Anthony Morris (this review appeared in The Big Issue)

Me Myself & I

Pamela Drury (Rachel Griffiths) should be a happy woman. She's smart, successful, and living a trendy inner-city lifestyle. But while she's got it all as far as her chosen path is concerned, she's starting to worry whether she's chosen the wrong path. Marriage, children, the love of Mr Right; things she once scorned are all starting to look pretty good to her now. Then, thanks to a chance encounter with herself - or at least, the version of her who did marry Mr Right, AKA Robert (David Roberts) - she gets to find out the colour of the grass on the fence's other side. And it's not as green as she thought...

The single and desperate version of Pamela is a little too cliched for Griffiths to really shine, but once her character forced to start struggling with an instant family she - and the film - start firing on all cylinders. This is the kind of film that could easily slip into preachiness, but unlike the very similar Sliding Doors, this keeps both lifestyles balanced (if there's a message, it's that being married is just as crap as being single), and even when tackling suicide attempts and ex-marital affairs it keeps a light and humorous touch. It's hard not to like a film that gives prominent product placement to a box of 'Home Brand' breakfast cereal, and though the humour level's set to smile rather than thigh-slapping, there's enough warmth in Griffith's performance to stop audiences from sitting through Me Myself & I wondering what if they'd decided to do something else with their time.

Anthony Morris (this review appeared in Forte)

One Perfect Day

When his sister dies from a drug overdose, arty composer Tommy Matisse (Dan Spielman) returns to Melbourne from conducting bag lady operas in London. Once home he fights with his girlfriend (Leeanna Walsman), gives up classical music to become a DJ, and faces off against an evil drug dealer (Andrew Howard) - who is now molesting Tommy's drug-addled now-former girlfriend and who wants to get into the music industry with him. If you've been waiting for a movie that feels like some doped-up teenager is babbling to you about some amazing night they had then wait no longer, because this hysterically over-the-top film is either amazingly bad or somewhat compelling depending on how prepared you are to laugh at the bad acting, dodgy plot, wacky visuals and countless weird moments (did we need to see the drug lord shave his chest?). Anti-drugs (it pretends it isn't, but when drugs kill two main characters you kinda get the message) but pro the mystical magical powers of recording ambient sounds and turning them into lame dance tracks, this is the kind of film that has to be seen to be believed - but probably shouldn't.

Anthony Morris (this review appeared in Forte)