A roundup/recap of the current best and rest in cinemas. In this installment: Romulus, My Father, Amazing Grace, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Day Watch, Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten, Stephanie Daley, Deep Water, Inland Empire.


Romulus, My Father (Richard Roxburgh/Australia/2007)
Set in the unforgiving landscape of post-war rural Australia, Romulus, My Father tells the story of an immigrant family’s struggle for survival and unity in the face of extreme poverty and hardship. The film is a memoir written by son Raimond Gaita – now a renowned philosopher and writer – and is above all a portrait of the loyal, tenacious Romulus (Eric Bana) striving to keep his family together. His efforts – futile considering his unstable wife Christina (Franka Potente) is on the brink of insanity – do not go unnoticed by his idolising son, and Raimond’s admiration of his father and Romulus’ commitment to his son are evident and their bond unbreakable. Romulus’ tolerance and support of his adulterous, wayward wife are at once heartbreaking and endearing, but begs the question: “How much can the human heart endure?” Romulus certainly endures; his strength and vulnerability conveyed by Bana with artful skill. Elsewhere, Kodi Smit-McPhee as Raimond gives a very perceptive, thoughtful interpretation, while Potente gives a controlled performance of a desperate woman searching for the unattainable, striking the right balance in a complex personality that might’ve otherwise been overplayed. Touching on themes of immigration, poverty, relationships, adultery, and mental health, there is certainly a lot of food for thought here. Meanwhile, Richard Roxburgh’s first-time direction is impressive, drawing excellent performances and articulating the harshness of life in this period of Australian history convincingly. IN THEATRES NOW.—Natasha Burling

Amazing Grace (Michael Apted/UK/USA/2006)
Amazing Grace, directed by Michael Apted, tells the fascinating story of William Wilberforce (Ioan Gruffudd), the driving force behind the abolition of slavery, who is torn between this worthy cause and his desire to serve God. Wilberforce, who becomes a Member of Parliament at an early age, encounters considerable opposition in a time when many business owners depended on the slave trade for their livelihoods. The film’s moniker owes its name to the well-known hymn, penned by Wilberforce's close friend John Newton (Albert Finney); a former slave-trader who repented of his ways and joined the crusade against this manner of human exploitation. Wilberforce’s achievements make for an inspiring, albeit lacking story, and Amazing Grace possesses little of the passion I was expecting given the importance of such historical events. An unimaginative script conveys Wilberforce’s eloquence and affect on history weakly, while apart from Albert Finney – in a typically dependable performance – the rest of the cast lacked colour and seemed rather anaemic. Mention was made of their dire conditions, but the slaves were strangely absent throughout, and the movie has been criticised for not giving the viewpoint of the slaves themselves. Apted replies that his film is more about the legislative process than the grassroots resistance, however, this is a gaping hole that renders Amazing Grace one-sided. Although reportedly accurate as a vantage point into a difficult time in history, it packs no punch. IN THEATRES NOW.—Natasha Burling

Harry Potter and the
Order of the Phoenix (David Yates/UK/USA/2007)
As the world devours the final chapter of Harry Potter, another film is unleashed worldwide. While earlier adaptations tended toward childishness, there’s been a sense of growing cinematic maturity the further the saga unfolded, and this feels like the first Harry Potter film which has got it right – although there are still flaws. The Order of the Phoenix finds Daniel Radcliffe’s Potter a haunted boy – plagued by the death of his friend Cedric and an outcast in both the world of Muggles and Hogwarts itself, things get worse when a daylight Dementor attack sees him forced to use magic to save himself and arch nemesis Dudley Dursley – but that’s against the rules of the Ministry of Magic. So Harry finds himself prosecuted and forced to defend himself in court, required to convince both the judges that Voldemort is moving against them, and his colleagues in the face of stiff opposition – including an incredibly distant mentor Professor Dumbledore. Also on his case is new Ministry of Magic meddler, Dolores Umbridge, played with terrifying cruelty in places by Imelda Staunton. She is a woman whose reliance on pink exteriors does nothing to hide the dark sadistic streak with him. Once she’s appointed to Hogwarts, she systematically sets out to undermine the staff and camaraderie by invoking a series of rules aimed at stifling what are viewed as rebellious factions within the school. So realising the odds are stacked against them, Harry and a few friends create Dumbledore’s army and try to learn how to defend themselves against the impending return of Lord Voldemort and his growing number of followers.

Chances are if this means nothing to you, you are not from this planet – in which case, Klaatu Barada Nikto. But you can get any small child to explain the story to you from the books. The irony is that director David Yates has done such a compelling job of making this Potter as black as coal in some places and sinister in others that many of the younger audience won’t be able to see the Order of The Phoenix without nightmares. He does his best with the teen actors – and to be fair, the visual effects this time are truly astounding. In terms of Potter visualisations, this is perhaps the closest it’s ever come to matching what JK Rowling would have had in mind. But the actors are still not much improved – most of Daniel Radcliffe’s acting in this one is confined to grimacing and yelling which one suspects (having seen him play against type in Ricky Gervais’ Extras sitcom) is down to the directing rather than the actor himself. Both Rupert Grint and Emma Watson as Ron and Hermione – as well as Robbie Coltrane as Hagrid – have less screen time and suffer with more being given over to Imelda Staunton. But one suspects that’s the adaptation of the book (which remains one of the largest in the series) and something had to give during the screenplay. However, where Order of The Phoenix falls short is, as ever, its ending. A truly spectacular magic fight between Dumbledore’s Army and Voldemort and his Death Eater cronies could only ever have one outcome – it would end in frustration for each side. It’s good Rowling’s now wrapped up the saga definitively because there is no way this reviewer – unlike so many of the kids lapping up the magical series – could sit through yet another ending where neither good nor evil ultimately triumph. It’s a necessity of the series that the resolution won’t come to an end on this fifth episode – but the journey to the inevitably non-conclusive ending is as magical as a ride on the Hogwarts’ Express. IN THEATRES NOW.—Darren Bevan

Day Watch (Timur Bekmambetov/Russia/2006)
Given how Night Watch ended with the central character losing his son after he allied himself with the forces of darkness, I had half expected to sit through a supernatural Kramer vs Kramer – but I needn’t have worried. Day Watch is by turns brilliant and completely bonkers. Which is what you would expect of a film that concerns itself with an ancient mystical artifact known as the Chalk of Fate. As for the plot, The Light Others continue to monitor the Dark Others as the fragile truce between the two sides teeters on the bring. Again, the action centres around Konstantin Khabensky as Anton, who is plagued by the loss of his son Yegor, and finds himself slap bang in the middle of the oncoming war. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he’s being asked to trace a Great Dark Other who is causing chaos, attacking humans, and eluding those trying to identify him. While not in the same league as Night Watch, director Timur Bekmambetov actually sets this sequel apart from its predecessor. Still in place are the eye popping visuals, but this time it’s been thrown together with a degree of pure insanity: there are body swapping segments, and in one of the more memorably nuts instances, a love scene involving two women in a shower somehow ends up in a waterfall. And to Bekmambetov’s credit, all of this is in perfect keeping with the ethos of the universe. More stunning visuals bring on the apocalypse in an astonishing feast for the eyes, yet the film ultimately falls short in its denouement, and any true fan of fantasy or sci-fi can see how the end will resolve itself within the first five minutes. Disappointingly, this is a deus ex machina device that has become increasingly commonplace within the genre, as writers appear to paint themselves into a corner. However – and this is the real clincher – the end works and leaves all of us wondering where the next film in the series will go (if indeed there is one). Suspend your disblief and you will be rewarded. IN THEATRES NOW.—Darren Bevan [Read More]

Joe Strummer: The Future is Unwritten (Julien Temple/UK/2006)
It has been nearly five years since the erstwhile leader of The Clash shifted off this mortal coil. And fan-frenzy seems to want to compensate those rum years when the Mescaleros (Strummer’s post-Clash backing unit) allowed Joe to make average-if-we’re-being-honest albums; or the booze-filled days that were even worse long before he picked his ass up and decided to start writing again... So, Joe Strummer died. And all of a sudden it was acceptable to listen to his Mescaleros records. The posthumous release that had him warbling through Bob Marley’s Redemption Song wasn’t just okay; it was a god dammed masterpiece! Julien Temple’s documentary isn’t quite the hagiography that it could be. It manages to be an honest and sincere portrait of the man born John Mellor. And there is, of course, reason to rave. The Clash were brilliant – still are. Their London Calling album was named Rolling Stone’s album of the 1980s. The only thing more impressive is that the band had arguably already made two albums that were better... Joe Strummer was a man who loved life and a musician who loved all kinds of music – it sounds like the most terrible cliché, but it’s true, and The Future Is Unwritten is the ultimate testimony to that fact, bringing with it a dynamite soundtrack that traverses the reggae and rockabilly roots of punk – on through the challenging metal and new-wave angles that pushed against and pulled away from punk. Temple, having documented the odyssey of The Sex Pistols, in both a naïve, jokey way (The Great Rock’n’Roll Swindle, 1980) and in a more studied, poignant unpacking (The Filth And The Fury, 2000) is the perfect person to collect and collate these views on Strummer, centred around audio interview clips with The Clash singer himself. Like Don Letts (interviewed here), Temple is both a filmmaker and a scenester, a hip player with an eye for the detail of how it should be but a head already full of the awareness of the way it was. Outside of the standard cast of talking heads (some great leftfield inclusions: Steve Buscemi, Jarmusch) there is a range of archival clips, most never seen before, containing some true magic. The Future Is Unwritten will really only appeal to fans of the scene, the style, the sound and the time, but for anyone keen to revisit and re-learn what it was all about then you will find a semi-portrait of one of the most important songwriters to emerge at the end of the 1970s – a time when songwriting seemed secondary to the singing of the tune. A spiritual man, a musical magpie, a quintessential punk who, by virtue of his literal lust for life, transcended the punk subculture. IN THEATRES SEPT 13.—Simon Sweetman [Full Review]

Stephanie Daley (Hilary Brougher/USA/2006)
There’s a lot about Stephanie Daley that’s uncomfortable – the subject matter (teen pregnancy), the cinematography (a prevalence of close-up, hand-held shots that force the viewer into the characters’ proximity)... But that is perhaps what makes this film so effective. It’s a tense drama that doesn’t try to shield the audience from its characters’ experiences just for the sake of making it more digestible. Stephanie (Amber Tamblyn) is a sheltered Christian teenager who is accused of killing her baby after giving birth to it, and then burying it, while on a school ski trip. However, she insists she had no idea she was pregnant, and it falls to psychologist Lydie (Tilda Swinton) to determine whether or not she’s telling the truth. The interview sessions cause both women to confront their own fears and denials in a story that explores female strength and vulnerability but doesn’t weaken or victimise the characters. The bulk of Stephanie’s story is told through a series of flashbacks, which draw unexpected parallels to Lydie’s current experiences. Swinton and Tamblyn deliver muted but extremely effective performances that carry the film without needing much assistance. Tamblyn’s portrayal of an innocent young girl giving birth in a public toilet makes for particularly harrowing cinema. It’s not an easy film to watch, but writer/director Hilary Brougher has crafted such a compelling story that it’s impossible not to let yourself be drawn into this darker side of suburban America. IN THEATRES SEPT 27.—Kim Choe [Read More]

Deep Water (Louise Osmond, Jerry Rothwell/UK/2006)
Not another tall tale of survival, but a quiet revelation of human fallibility, fraudulence, and compelling oceanic adventure, Deep Water draws from a well of sixties archival footage, establishing protagonist Donald Crowhurst in vintage living colour – foibles, shortcomings, and all – as he embarks on an unprecedented solo round the world yacht race with little hands-on experience or rational thought. All the more remarkable – and against the grain of Touching the Void’s cinematic, if suspiciously embellished re-enactments – is its acknowledgment of just how fishy a person’s recollection of the ‘one that got away’ can be: in Crowhurst’s case, the stubborn sailor has grown a nose long enough for a spare mast by the voyage’s end. To reveal the extent of his skulduggery would be to spoil the film’s many unexpected shifts; needless to say, several unforeseen plot twists make this the stuff of movies. And for a time, the documentary becomes a fraud in itself, conceding to the allure of storytelling – none of which matters, of course, because its very conceit is the exaggeration of truth. Back in England, Crowhurst’s Fleet Street crony never let the facts get in the way of a good story, and the logbooks discovered aboard his battered vessel mirror such journalistic pretense. But they also reveal a psychological disintegration at the hands of Mother Nature, and the old adage that lying comes back to haunt you. A nautical train wreck, Crowhurst achieved a prolonged stay at sea against most predictions, yet also dug himself a rather large hole during the 200+ day circumnavigation; the film’s title essentially a euphemism for ‘Deep Shit’. Approaching the end, his writings turn increasingly disturbed, and there’s a level of discomfort in being privy to all the despairing details. Osmond and Rothwell’s chronicle of events is riveting, yet we can only envisage what Werner Herzog would have made of all of this: the mirrors of obsession, the burden of dreams, the thickly accented monologue on the supremacy of the ocean and the existential solitude of man. Like the audio recording in Grizzly Man, and the waterfall footage in The White Diamond, one can also assume that Herzog would have never opened Crowhurst’s final pages, letting the fantasy rest with its maker rather than compromise the portal between fiction and reality. IN THEATRES SEPT 27.—Tim Wong [Read More]

Inland Empire (David Lynch/USA/2006)
By turns infuriating and exhilarating, Inland Empire is David Lynch gone senile: whereas cinema’s dream curator struck gold with the relatively logical narrative capsizing of Mulholland Drive, his latest plunges deeper in search of Hollywood’s back entrances and dark portals, and rarely if ever resurfaces for air. While bewilderment is synonymous with Lynch movies, Inland Empire is so far removed neurologically from anything else in the director’s oeuvre that Lost Highway comes across as unfurnished and comparatively sane; thus, in achieving singularity, it approaches the very edge of insanity. Grasping a long overdue lead role with two hands, Laura Dern (magnificent, playing her most fucked-up character since Citizen Ruth) stars as an actress cast in a promising melodrama – a Polack folktale which just happens to be a remake of a cursed screenplay. There are also phantom prostitutes, musical numbers, sitcom rabbits, copious cameos, and ever-present signs of lurking evil to contend with. Lynch unsettles proceedings from the outset with a stilted, oddly retarded mise-en-scene – a shambolic merry-go-round of uncomfortable close-ups, pregnant pauses, and drunken delivery – before pushing us through not one, but a succession of rabbit holes that lead nowhere except down. What this bottomless pit reveals though isn’t so much a descent into lunacy, but a liberation of the mind; no longer hindered by the process of film, Lynch runs amok with the digital format, streaming his unconscious with all the mileage of a YouTube video blog. The murky, pixelated vision certainly adds to the anxiety of the ‘mare, as does the staccato horror: abrupt, ad hoc moments of classic Lynchian terror. For all its maddening incomprehensibility, Inland Empire is never uninteresting, and affirms what Lynch thrill seekers have known since day one: that in relinquishing to the experience, you’ll hang on every low drone, mental trapdoor, and hysterical shriek for dear life. In a nutshell, cinema at its most perilous.—Tim Wong [Read More]

FLICKS.CO.NZ presents special screenings of 'Inland Empire' in Auckland this month (Academy Cinema, Sept 8-9), followed by Wellington (Paramount, Nov 1-5) later in the year.