THE WHITE RIBBON

The White Ribbon
Melbourne International Film Festival
Tue 4 Aug, Sun 9 Aug

With his new film, Michael Haneke ploughs his customary fields of collective guilt, invididual crime, shrouds of secrecy and social dysfunction. Set in an Austrian village on the verge of World War I and shot in glistening monochrome, The White Ribbon observes this microcosmos as strands of sadism, lust, affection and punishment unfold.

Told through the steady voiceover of the village teacher, The White Ribbon attempts to paint a picture that, in breadth, range of focus and moral ambiguity rivals the 19th-century social novel. There is no clear protagonist, and no discernible dramatic arc. Instead, the zig-zagging paths of numerous characters from multiple families are given time to cross, tangle and untangle. The pastor’s, and his six children forced to wear white ribbons on their sleeves for a whole year, to remind them of the moral purity they have so far failed to attain; the doctor’s, whose accident involving a horse and a long wire opens the film, sends him to the hospital, and leaves his two children in the care of the village midwife, his informal companion; the baron’s, whose estate employs half of the village, whose distant, moody wife and child are never more than ambiguous about the pleasures of country living, and whose children’s nanny, a girl from the next village, becomes the teacher’s love interest. During the course of the year, this pastoral image is tainted, again and again, with acts of inexplicable, often extreme cruelty.

Like Haneke’s earlier films, so is this one about the return of the repressed. But this time it is not a single act, returning and echoing through the post-traumatic life. Faithful to the novelistic approach, The White Ribbon observes calmly, without a hint of hysterical finger-pointing, the long, steady process by which those without power are in continuous, futile but furious, rebellion against the established power. The culprits are never clearly identified, but that is beside Haneke’s point. The White Ribbon, with its wide-angled social lens, suggests that, in the diseased process of cyclic discipline and punishment, the resentment and retaliation against the authority merely shifts around the society, now here, now there. The Great War of 1914, everything considered, comes as no surprise.

What works in prose may not be so successful on celluloid. Several hundred of the MIFF audience seemed impatient with Haneke’s slowly rolling yarn, and the palpable enjoyment of character portraiture and event description never took off with quite the same success. Still, The White Ribbon is a visually perfect film, with impeccable performances, and if it is broad and deep rather than taut and sharp, well, I’d like to think the world cinema is big enough for both.

The Loved Ones

The Loved Ones
Melbourne International Film Festival
Greater Union Cinema – 30 July & 7 August

In a packed cinema, this evening’s thrill-seeking audience is cautioned to “shut your eyes” or “block your ears.” We are assured we “won’t fall asleep in this one”. A warning to be heeded, The Loved Ones will simultaneously disgust and amaze you. Get ready for a sexy, gory, scary rollercoaster ride of fast-paced sequences that don’t let up.

We are introduced to tortured teen soul Brent who crashed the car killing his father some months before. His home life is in tatters with his mother, pale and ghost-like, hovering in the doorway as he pumps heavy metal. At school Lola approaches Brent and breathlessly asks him to the school dance. He declines and we meet Holly, his girlfriend, in the car sex scene. The first jump of the film comes as the camera flicks to the window and Lola is there, watching murderously.

Set in a country town, Brent escapes his house to rock-climb, clutching his razor-sharp dog tag necklace. His iPod inhibits his and the viewers’ senses and it comes as a shock when a man appears behind him. With only a short struggle, Brent is over-powered and dragged away.

He regains consciousness to find himself in a tuxedo, tied to a chair with Lola, her father Eric and ‘Bright Eyes’ peering at him. There is a disco ball eerily turning, a banner strung up pronouncing Lola’s Prom and the party food is a stomach-turning combination of chicken with a glass of milk. The party takes a turn for the gruesome as Lola and Eric utilise power tools to entertain their bound guest.

The soundtrack is excellent, adding to the mood and satire and giving insight into the characters via their musical choices. Brent channels heavy metal while Lola we associate with the ironic choice of Kasey Chambers “Not Pretty Enough”.

Seeing The Loved Ones I am reminded of Stephen King’s 1976 horror film Carrie, which also deals with misunderstood girl on Prom night. While the two films share plot similarities they are worlds apart. The Loved Ones is not your typical horror movie – it falls within the genre however disobeys many of the conventions and could better be described as a cross-genre comedy/thriller. The bizarre and gory party is balanced with two sub plots of comic relief and drama as the audience is transported violently between the three with no chance to catch a breath.

Robin McLeavy (48 Shades) is relentless as Lola, a seductively sadistic dominatrix in a pink, satin Prom dress and heels. Outstanding performances also by Xavier Samuel (due to appear in the third Twilight movie) as Brent and John Brumpton (Last Ride, Romper Stomper) as Lola’s psychotic father Eric. Directed by Sean Bryne with cinematography by Simon Chapman, the film premiered at MIFF and will be screened next at Toronto International Film Festival.

The Loved Ones is an experience that will cause you a lot of tension, some anxiety, may make you want to throw your guts up, and will certainly quash any thoughts of moving to a country town. The visual, and auditory assault is totally worth it. This is an exceptional testament to Australian film.

All Tomorrow's Parties

All Tomorrow’s Parties
Melbourne International Film Festival
Sat 25 July, Thu 6 August

As a music ‘tragic’, I can say with clear conscience and no regret that I make mix CDs (previously tapes too, before the medium became extinct).  ’So what?’ you ask, ‘anyone can bang 20 tracks on a CD!’

Not true – the track order, track selection, length of songs, and outros rolling to intros are all major factors in the success of a ‘mix’. This is something that the iPod generation and the ‘Shuffle’ option is slowly killing. But, when you get it right – at risk of sounding like an arrogant tosser – it’s pretty damn good. However, for someone who sees live music on a pretty regular basis, there is nothing better than seeing a band perform ‘that song’ live. So what if you could combine the two – in essence, a ‘live mix tape’ of all your favorite bands playing their songs live?

The All Tomorrows Parties Festival is just that. Curated by a selected artist (or of late, artists), it gives the them the chance to select their favorite bands or artist for ultimate music festival. Directed by Jonathan Caouette, All Tomorrows Parties (ATP) takes us on a behind the scenes journey of the festival and its patrons. Shot on Super 8, camcorder and mobile phones, this lo-fi doco traces the origins and captures the spirit of the festival.

The skill of the direction is that this is done without the aid of narration – well, narration of the standard form. Caouette uses the artists, fans and media alike to tell the story of a festival created by Chris Geddes (Belle and Sebastian) called the Bowlie Weekender in 1999, held at the off-season holiday camp in Camber Sands in Sussex. The gig consisted of Belle and Sebastian headlining a festival in which they selected all the acts. Festival producer Barry Hogan was so enamored by the idea that he asked whether he could keep the format and continue the medium. With blessing received we now have ATP as we know it today.

Caouette uses the split-screen effect with creative precision, showing an artist performing live on one side and the festival goers hijinks at the holiday camps on the other. The film captures some amazing acts and some pretty special performances and commentary. Look out for the Warren Ellis/Nick Cave interview and some sublime performances from Battles, Grinderman, Sonic Youth, Daniel Johnston, Mogwai, The Dirty Three, Yeah Yeah Yeah’s, Mogwai, Seasick Steve, Mars Volta, The Stooges and Two Gallants. Special note must go to Lightening Bolt for his amazing drumming sequences, involving him drumming in the crowd (hunt this down on you tube). The use of archival footage of the holiday camps when they were popular in the 50s an 60s is a nice touch as is the footage of the punters at the festival enjoying impromptu performances and copious amounts of booze.

Unfortunately I caught the last screening of the Festival and the docos dont always get picked up for general release. However, I implore you that if you can track down the DVD or find a screening that you see this film. Without any exaggeration this is one of the better music documentaries, capturing the spirit of the live festival and is definitely worth the search.

I NEED THAT RECORD!

I NEED THAT RECORD! THE DEATH (OR POSSIBLE SURVIVAL) OF THE INDEPENDENT RECORD STORE
Melbourne International Film Festival
Thu 30 July, Wed 5 August

I need to preface this review by revealing a terrible and dark secret that has plagued my conscience for years now – I went for a job at Sanity Music. Let me set the scene a little to justify this harrowing revelation. I had returned from a jaunt in South America and had very little interest in acquiring anything as demanding and responsible as a career. I had grand plans of bumming around, listening to tunes, catching up with mates and achieving as little as possible. I was young and naive and thought that a fair knowledge of music would be all that is required. I’d recommend to anyone who was keen for a job at a franchise record store not to snigger and laugh during the interview when the Interviewer states the importance of ‘placing both hands on the bag and making good eye contact with the customer to cement the sale’. From that point on it became apparent that my services would not be required.

Everything changed when I moved out of home and to the inner city. From here I was exposed to the world of the Independent Record Store. With it’s community and local influence, here is somewhere that I could relate, not only to the music, but to the employees and patrons alike.

This sense of community is captured in ‘Technicolor’ by Brendan Tollers documentary I Need That Record.

It would be so easy to have a run of the mill talking-heads doco with a few muso’s waxing lyrical about the good old days, but that would diminish not only the importance of such a documentary, but why this story needs to be told in the first place.

Toller achieves the balance between research and facts versus anecdotes and story with a sense of ease. This Lo-Fi viewing begins with Toller interviewing a few record store owners that he has befriended over the years who have been forced to close their stores for a host of reasons including expiring leases, poor sales and general economic decay. The film’s strength is weaving the footage of these stores closing (a staggering 3,000 in the last 10 years) with the interviews of such industry luminaries as Legs McNeil, Ian Mackaye (Fugazi), Thurston Moore (Sonic Youth), Pat Carney (The Black Keys), Glenn Branca and Lenny Kaye, just to name a few. Mike Watt (Minuteman) is a standout in his own rambling and random way as is Noam Chomsky’s contribution, providing the basic laws of supply and demand on the music industry.

Toller’s research is meticulous and covers off a range of topics including the major record labels (their inability to function in the modern economic models), the cost of production, the launch and death of MTV and the internet as a distribution tool. The archival footage (take particular note of George W Bush’s iPod discussion and the Chuck D vs Lars Ullrich file-sharing debate) mixed with Matt Newman’s incredible animation really add depth and range to the film while keeping that independent and raw feel throughout the screening.

So dont be expecting the employee hijinks and Hollywood endings of High Fidelity, but, if you spend a tonne of time immersed in the Greville St or Polyester communities then this is one documentary worth seeing.

More info: http://www.ineedthatrecord.com

An Education

An Education
Melbourne International Film Festival
Forum Theatre – August 1, 2

Set in the 1960s, London, An Education is charming and socially aware in its capturing of the wide-eyed, boundless idealism of youth through a sixteen-year-old girl.

Jenny is in her last year of school, and, up to this point her life has been dictated by Latin essays and cello rehearsals; high hopes for entry into Oxford University inspire and motivate her rigid schedule. David enters Jenny’s world and on his arm she is introduced to a socialite life of glamour, jazz clubs, fur coats, fine dining and travel to Paris. The seductive lifestyle is not all it seems – there is a hard lesson to be learnt and a fall from grace as our protagonist begins her initiation into adult life.

Two of the three women that influence Jenny the most are her teacher and headmistress; both characters are jaded and unsatisfied in their careers. Danny’s wife is the polar opposite – beautiful and fashionable, but inept to appreciate the cultural experiences she can afford. Jenny lingers somewhere in between all three as she searches for her place.

The education of women in the 1960s, lack of career opportunities and the absence of inspiration and support for young women to enter the work force are thematic content of the film. It is set within a society undergoing serious culture change. Older generations continue to uphold marriage and a woman’s role as housewife as the most important path, while younger generations pitch themselves against this, valuing education and career as priority.

MIFF festival attendees were treated to a greeting by the film’s star Carey Mulligan, a guest of the Festival. Mulligan was no diva as she declared in her English accent everyone had been ‘lovely’. She is charming as the intelligent and charismatic Jenny alongside Peter Sarsgaard as David, and joined by a cast of well-known faces. Nick Hornby works his brilliance bringing witty dialogue, iconic of the novelist’s work, to the screenplay.

A romantic drama that is entertaining and light-hearted, An Education presents social attitudes without dwelling too heavily on them. It is a perfect Sunday evening movie with artistic integrity in clever and witty screenplay to justify the escapism.

Deathbowl to Downtown

Deathbowl to Downtown
Melbourne International Film Festival
Screening Friday August 7th

Pop-Culture documentaries are always a risky proposition at a film festival. The last thing you want is 80-minutes of ‘talking-heads’, droning on about how good they were or what it was like at that time – or, even worse, an exercise in name-dropping.

So when I heard about Deathbowl to Downtown I was initially skeptical. The essence of any good doco is to keep the story moving; make it succinct, and; importantly, dont bite of more than you can chew.  The ‘blurb’ on Downtown was the evolution of New York skateboarding – not exactly succeeding in the biting off more than you can chew aspect. For the record your honor, I dont skate – in fact the closest thing I’ve gotten to riding a board was watching Gleaming The Cube (a Christian Slater classic – although it hasn’t aged that well – but I digress).

I have always had an interest in the history of various pop-cultures and tend to be drawn to them without much resistance. My interest in Downtown, however, lies in New York herself. The grand old lady of the east coast is a massive contradiction to the sun, surf and beaches of skateboarding’s west coast origin. Essentially, I wanted to see how this tale would be told.

Co-Directors Coan Nicholls and Rick Charnoski have managed to locate an array of interesting local skating identities and enough footage (some from private skate videos and handy-cams) to keep a casual observer interested for the 86 minute journey. The real strength of Downtown is its peripheral links to the surrounding culture, politics, fashions, fads – and even technology – that have all contributed to the sport’s success.

The DIY ethos of the filmmakers resonates throughout the story, much as it did to those who were around in the sports fledgling days. The interview grabs are short and sweet. The majority of the footage is breathtaking (see Mark Gonzales skating through NYC traffic) and the soundtrack adds a sense of realism to the visuals. While perhaps not to the same degree as the iconic Style Wars, Downtown still provides an accurate portrayal of the socio-economic times of New York from the 70s to present day. The only real drawback is Chloe Sevigny’s narration. Her monotone ramblings and obviously teleprompter-read lines detract from the initial story and her involvement fades out in the second half.

This aside, I would recommend Downtown to any pop-culture junkie seeking a fix.

More info:

http://www.deathbowltodowntown.com/

Treeless Mountain
Melbourne International Film Festival
Sun 26 July, Thu 30 July

Yet another gorgeous film on children, Treeless Mountain looks at two teeny tiny girls, whose mother drops them off to an aunt in the South Korean countryside, and leaves. The aunt grumbles unhappy, the girls try to make sense of the situation, the sky is overcast, they ask for lollies they don’t get, go walkabout, tell each other stories. Jin, the school-aged one, does her best impersonation of serious old sister to little Bin, who toddles around in wearing princess gown and pyjamas and understanding barely anything about the world.

The story is completely limited by the two girls: we know what they know, we see what they see, we understand what they understand. The camera stays at their height, keeps their faces in close-up. The adult world, suddenly, is an incomprehensible and worrying as it once was.

Unflinchingly direct, Treeless Mountain is knee-high in the stuff that could result in sentimental shlock for the cold-hearted, one of those suffer-little-children Dickensian tear-jerkers (and, in many ways, it a film very similar to The Grave of the Fireflies); but it balances its shocking subject by being equally outspoken about both the joys and resilience of childhood, the strength derived from taking the world at its face value.

So Yong Kim, a Korean film-maker who lives in New York, observes the world with astonishing, minimalist humility. To someone who, like me, emerges out of the theatre black box for the film festival, Treeless Mountain serves as a splendid reminder of the finest charms of cinema: it captures the fluid, incidental beauty of the world, the smallest changes in the expressions of untrained young actors, and something about the unstructured, unpredictable way in which life makes sense.

Still Walking
Melbourne International Film Festival
Screening Wednesday July 29 at 12.15pm

Hirokazu Kore-eda’s films – a retrospective of which Melbourne International Film Festival presented in 2007 – all share a preoccupation with death and loss. His cinematic debut, Maborosi (Maboroshi no hikari) follows a young woman as she struggles to cope with her husband’s sudden death. After Life (Wonderful Life), a whimsical fairytale, centred on a dilapidated social services building in which recently deceased go through the bureaucratic process of chosing one memory they will keep in the afterlife; and the widely acclaimed Nobody Knows (Daremo shiranai), looked at a year in the life of 4 children after their mother abandons them in their apartment to live with another man. Yet despite the grand themes, Kore-eda’s films are gentle, humane and thoughtful, sharing an unintrusive, almost documentary notation of interpersonal dynamics.

Still Walking, his second-last feature film, shows clear influence of his mentor, Yasuhiro Ozu, and may be his most universally accessible film so far. Set at the anniversary of the death of their eldest son, it brings together three generations of the Yokoyama family for a lunch, a lazy summer afternoon, and a sleepover.

What’s most remarkable is how unremarkable the premise is: indeed, countless Australian (and American) films look at prodigal sons returning for a visit to their parents, and the tensions revived, the expectations dodged, the disappointments re-simmered. A layered crosswords of love, reproach and rivalry builds up between the siblings, their partners, their children, and their parents. There is never anything so crass as a confrontation, or melodramatic as an argument. For the most part, the family members cook, clean, converse over meals, visit the deceased son’s grave, and have afternoon tea with the boy whose life their son died saving. They discuss jobs, future plans, past memories. Formally and emotionally restrained, it abstains from glib conclusions.

Yet Kore-eda’s gentle touch draws out the complexity of the familial relationships in all its nuance. It is an immensely satisfying film, whose poignance lies in the richness of observation. Kore-eda is able to draw out magnificent performances from his actors, particularly children, and captures the essence both of young (his children blow bubbles in soda, snoop around offices, pick flowers and brag to strangers) and old age (Yokoyama matriarch will gently, but firmly command her son and daughter-in-law, confess to small meanness and hide great generosity). In one scene, a bother and sister discuss the ways their parents approach life while carrying a coffee table down a staircase. Despite the grand arguments they are making, the actors are talking absent-mindedly, paying more attention to manouvring the table than to the weight of their lines. Such small, careful scenes build up into a wonderfully subtle family portrait. There is no superfluous repetition; every detail adds a layer of complexity to the characters. The film that results is utterly captivating despite having, essentially, no central conflict.

Australians love an argument. Walk into any local pub and you’ll find someone squabbling about something, somewhere. A healthy debate is part of our heritage – certainly not uniquely Australian, but nevertheless a comfortable past-time: akin, for some people, to exercise. And there’s one favourite that’s held our attention indefinitely, eternally – and we’re speaking about in pubs, right now.

‘Which city’s better: Melbourne versus Sydney?’ is Australia’s very own civil war, liable to incite verbal violence and sully otherwise sensible occasions.

As a Melburnian I’ve tried to understand it myself. Of course Melbourne is better than Sydney – but why? Naturally, the enemy pins itself on its environmental beauty – spectacular crystalline harbour waters joust with the picture-perfect white sands of Bondi within postcard stands – but we’re not bad-looking, too. Indeed, when Mark Twain travelled through Australia he summarized our rivals perfectly: ‘God made the Harbor … but Satan made Sydney’.

Melbourne’s a different town; we have no Opera House, no Harbour Bridge, but something different, something intangible and pulsing – a palpable energy you can’t see or touch, but feel.

In the midst of fierce debate we Melburnians attempt to quantify this intangibility, blustering over beers and spluttering over the indefinables as we defend the city we love.

In the end, it comes down to a word: culture.

This word is inevitably ineffective – the argument is perpetual, obviously – so we nobly try and realise the unrealisable and do what any stoic-city-defender would do: look for evidence.

****

“Street art isn’t for anyone. It’s for everyone,” is low-budget documentary Melbourne INK‘s official credo – doubly serving as an apt summation of the film. It’s an easily accessible, briskly edited short that invites us to spend some time with artists have played their part in constructing Melbourne’s street art culture.

I’ll confess that aside from walking past it almost every other day, I pay little attention to street art. It’s not that I’m ignoring it specifically, it’s just that I’ve grown accustomed to seeing a piece of graffiti inscribed on a wall on my way to catch a train or grab a bite to eat.

Melbourne INK‘s genuine strength is in how this world – unknown to me – seems quickly real. Within seconds you understand that the individuals frantically scrawling on walls by moonlight are real people – not fictitious fly-by-night ‘artistes’. They demand from their surroundings a space to create – a place where art can breathe and reach an audience. The walls we walk past everyday are the ultimate canvas.

These artists are an eclectic group, too. It’s the first time many of them have shown their faces on film, but the payoff is immediate. We see the expressions of the different creators and understand the breadth of the film’s characters: some serious, some playful, some enjoying the infamy.

Essentially a collection of interviews – intercut with some timelapse ‘creation’ scenes – Melbourne INK ‘s twenty minute running time surprisingly doesn’t feel long; in fact, as the credits roll, there’s almost a need to know more – perhaps to understand the artists’ motivations, or their current undertakings. As a short documentary it’s made well - but it could have so easily failed. What’s missing is narrative; there’s nothing that binds these colourful characters beyond their need to create, no genuine external force that impedes their progress, no event that umbrellas the film as a whole.

What it is a snapshot: this is what street art in Melbourne is now – but not where it’s going. Focus to this end would have helped avoid the contradictions that lay between the interviewees; points of view collide without reaching a resolution, especially when they talk about the perceived relevancy of street art to galleries.

There are some interesting snippets on the city’s reaction to all of this. If it’s marketable it’ll be marketed – obviously – but the council’s position on the movement is entirely paradoxical. On the one hand the artists are outlaws, on the other, a major tourist attraction.

This illegality, too, is treated with both gravitas and a wry smile. For some, it’s constrictive and limiting, for others the urgency at which to create means slap-dash passion. And, in one of the more entertaining interview snippets, it means talented artist Ha Ha is the modern equivalent of Ned Kelly: a fiery, law-defying bushranger working for the greater good. It’s confusing, historically-mangled, mixed-metaphor stuff, but the bravado at which it’s delivered is genuinely appealing.

Ultimately, these are people indulging in what humans have done for centuries: drawn on walls. Sure, the surfaces are smoother and the tools more sophisticated, but the need to splash an image on a wall – cave or building – is universal and everlasting. And Melbourne, by its very design, is the perfect place for this controversial art form to grow and evolve.

Our celebrated system of laneways are indeed, the ideal studio - hidden away from the authorities at night, but bustling enough during the day for the work to find an audience. As creators converge on our city for this very reason, Melbourne’s vibrant arts community builds, strengthens and advances – and so the culture cycle continues.

****

So I’m still blustering with beers and defining the indefinables. But my words are sharply realised: I’ve found an element of physical evidence of that one word that may just help settle that great debate. Street art is part of Melbourne’s culture; ingrained in and fostered on the very walls that comprise it.

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.