Acolytes
Melbourne International Film Festival (full coverage here)
August 1 and August 2, 2008

There’s no great history of traditional, mainstream genre films in Australia. For the brave few who do try, there will always be comparisons to the Hollywood movies that came before. John Hewitt’s thriller Acolytes will probably suffer the same fate, but, comparisons aside, the film does exactly what you would hope a thriller would do - it frightens.

Partly inspired by the crimes of Western Australian serial killers David and Catherine Birnie, the film follows the lives of James, Mark and Chasley, three teenagers living in the outer fringe of Brisbane suburbia. It’s a fearful setting that juxtaposes the apparent safety of a well-manicured neighborhood with the haunting remoteness of a local pine plantation.

Afflicted by years of suffering at the hands of local bully Gary Parker, Mark and James happen upon an unlikely opportunity for vengeance. Discovering the body of a Canadian backpacker and eventually the identity of the killer, the pair begin to flirt with the idea that the killer’s fate is now in their hands. James convinces Mark and Chasley that the power they now hold can be used to blackmail the killer into ‘dealing’ with their bully.

But the tides quickly turn, seeing James, Mark and Chasley lured into the violent world of serial killer, Ian Wright.

Acolytes is a film that rigorously follows the formula of its genre; it’s fast paced, low on dialogue and has enough suspense to run your adrenal glands dry. The element of fear is unrelenting throughout the film, achieved through the scattering of sudden, blurry flashbacks, and a chilling soundtrack that leaves you skeptical of even the most visually tranquil scenes.

But the scare tactics also run deeper. Joel Edgeton is truly frightening as Wright - his calm and confident approach to his circumstances in the film helps build a character whose morose activity is clearly an obsession feeding off a desire for perfection.

Michael Dorman, Sebastian Gregory and Hannah Mangan-Lawrence also deliver strong debut performances as the three teens, in a film where believable emotion is vital to the story’s suspense and ultimate success.

There is a plot strong enough to keep you interested during the mellow moments of the film - not that there are many - but in the end Acolytes is a teen-thriller. It’s there to scare, without making you think too much.

For that reason Acolytes will never receive the acclaim of something hard-hitting like The Jammed, nor will it have the hype of Wolf Creek. But it does stand on its own as a piece that cements some credibility in Australian genre-films.

Click here for Laneway’s full coverage of the Melbourne International Film Festival.

Rock n Roll Nerd
Melbourne International Film Festival (full coverage here)
July 27, July 30 and August 8, 2008

His face is made-up. His voice primed. Eyes lined. Hair: wild and flailing. The shirt, unbuttoned. But unbuttoned perfectly.

He is Tim Minchin, hero of Rhian Skirving’s feature documentary Rock n Roll Nerd.

This colourful film follows his rags-to-riches journey - from struggling in cabaret clubs in front of a handful of guests to his transformation into softly spoken, strangely dressed musical-comedy revelation.

Rock n Roll Nerd opens with said metamorphosis - the payoff immediate and profound. Minchin loses the curls in favour of chemically straightened hair, an idea that rests on a shaky ethos that “people pay more attention to weirdos”.

Of course, the experiment works. Accompanied by a new wardrobe and his wife’s loving support, Minchin polishes the act, and embarks on what becomes his last, best hope at making it big. In this case, he starts small - a vacant stage on the outskirts of Melbourne’s Internal Comedy Festival.

He’s noticed by an experienced producer-manager, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Meanwhile, this propulsion is documented by his close friend Rhian Skirving. She is restrained and sensitive, and Minchin is evidently comfortable with her presence; there are moments when it feels as though we’re chatting with an old friend. This level of access is what makes the documentary a success: we laugh as Minchin purports that his naiveté is a method of extracting information, we cry as we learn his wife has miscarried, and we’re on the edge of our seats as he confronts a 300-seat Edinburgh stage for the first time.

The film is interspersed with clips of Minchin’s act, providing much needed context; we realise that even as events shift his life in new directions, there’s a crowd at a sold-out show completely oblivious.

Fundamentally, Rock n Roll Nerd is an interesting portrait of a man - idiosyncratic, naturally smart, occasionally self-centred - who is forced to deal with his own success.

His ruminations surrounding the subject are humourous, often insightful, and sometimes heartbreaking. This is the voice of a man whose ambition is largely fulfilled, yet he yearns for balance between the purity of his art and that of his increasingly commercial nature.

All the while are the reviews and reviewers - faceless writers who control Minchin’s destiny. The good ones are treated with restrained elation; the bad ones precede borderline depression.

These implosions are absorbed by his loving wife, Sarah - whip-smart, self-effacing and completely devoted. Although she supports Minchin throughout his humble cabaret days, her true value is in her ability to halt his self-destruction and to ground his self-absorption. Theirs is a relationship in documentary against which there are few equals - and is so refreshingly frank in its portrayal that without it, the film may have fallen short.

Ultimately, comedy prevails, as Minchin tackles larger spectacles and more risqué content. His is a unique voice; insular, self-deprecative and disarmingly intelligent. Yet he learns how far he can go within his act, forging boundaries that perhaps never existed within the realm of musical-comedy. It is these experiences that help us gain insight into a comedian’s thought process - and prove to be some of the film’s most interesting moments.

Rock n Roll Nerd suffers from third act issues, however, relying on the usually effective baby-to-be-born climax. Oddly, this rightfully momentous event feels a little hollow; perhaps an overly sentimental finale for a man known for his brutal, eloquent truths.

These qualms are minor, though, as Rock n Roll Nerd remains an hilarious, moving and insightful tribute to the performer and the pursuance of a dream. And from Minchin’s humble beginnings to his ultimate personal success, his story is one that makes us ponder our own lives and marvel at the courage of a man whose success is self-made, gratifying, and ultimately, inspiring.

Click here for Laneway’s full coverage of the Melbourne International Film Festival.

My Winnipeg
Melbourne International Film Festival (full coverage here)
July 27 and August 8, 2008

It’s weird, darkly funny, and intensely personal. Guy Maddin’s My Winnipeg is a curious beast; a twisted cacophony of documentary, narrative and travelogue.

The film follows Maddin’s attempted extrication from his hometown, a place now so embroiled in his psyche that it’s reached a boiling point: either he goes or his mind does.

This separation - so clinically impossible, purportedly - is the film’s impetus for what becomes an enthusiastically unconventional journey throughout Winnipeg’s, and thus Maddin’s, history. He decides, in a dreamy, half-sleep daze, that the only way to truly escape the snow-clad burg is to ‘film his way out of it’.

Maddin assembles a troupe of actors to play his family - an impressively daring experiment that fails, mostly. Forcing them to recap important events in his life, and demanding of himself an intense catharsis, Maddin paints a wonderful black and white picture of his youth, his town, and his problems. It’s assemblage is genuinely startling - a true collage of the filmmakers mind. It’s splintered, fractured, great stuff.

My Winnipeg coalesces fact and fiction in search of reasons for the town’s ‘magnetic pull’; a throughline represented by the tumult of a hurtling train that traverses Maddin’s history. It’s a journey that asks questions of a town that is losing its idiosyncrasies in a misguided attempt to appear modern. What is the cost? What is a town without its history? What is a town without its people?

Maddin asks these questions so wistfully, so subjectively, and so sardonically that he creates his own mythos; a town pared from reality just enough to embody another man’s memories.

It’s an entertaining ride, hyperactively structured and darkly comic, calling to mind more investigative excursions like Bowling for Columbine and Where in the world is Osama Bin Laden? There is, of course, one major disparagement: only half of it’s real.

It’s a unique blend of fantasy and reality: Yes, Winnipeg was once re-named Himmlerstadt for an elaborately staged Nazi invasion, No, Winnipeg doesn’t have ‘ten times the sleep-walking rate of any other city in the world’. These mistruths are played so beautifully that it’s rare not to crack a smile as the absurdity escalates.

All the while, we’re becoming increasingly aware, as Maddin is, to the one thing that defines a town: its memories. As an old store is demolished, it’s ‘murder’. A hockey stadium makes an ironic stand against its pending destruction. Winnipeg doesn’t want to change - it’s being forced to.

Shot like a silent film, My Winnipeg is disjointed, jarring and beautiful. The visuals are inherently expressionist - flickering, grainy shots, camp interstitials, glaring faux-subliminal messages. At times the editing is so brisk it’s almost offensive, as rising rag-time music plays to some the film’s more spectacular sequences.

Ultimately, though, it’s Maddin himself that is most impressive. His droll, rhythmic narration provides for the film a foundation on which his cinema is free to play. It’s like listening to a freshly written play. It’s razor sharp, acerbic and always entertaining.

My Winnipeg, for all its bravado, is not a perfect film. As the film follows several tangents it’s naturally prone to getting a little distracted - and while some of these distractions are entertaining, some aren’t. The fragrant repetition of phrases can get a little irritating, and some sequence are too dizzyingly concocted.

All in all though, My Winnipeg is interesting, exciting filmmaking. Maddin invites you into his white world that brims with a universal curiosity; who are we, where did we come from, and why are we the way we are?

Click here for Laneway’s full coverage of the Melbourne International Film Festival.