Dark film. Not just for the scenes of Tony Stark coming to grips with the aftermath of hanging out with the Avengers in New York, clutching at the shock of post-traumatic stress disorder. No. A lot of times when the magic of suiting up happens, it's void of daylight. Either through rubble or down by the docks. The key scenes happen when the sun is out of the way. We're dealing with darkness as it wraps its cloak with both hands.
In the absence of cited (and sighted) non Haitian zombie behaviour we are left only with trodded tropes since the dawn of Romero and variations of other in-universe continuities. The basic shake is shuffling corpses with a ravishing appetite for brains and other body parts as appetisers. Stoke that thirst for human flesh and the undead will rule your life.
Following the events of the first season Sarah Lund, feeling somewhat responsible for the death of her partner, Jan Meyer, has been living in semi self-imposed exile in the isolated town of Gedser. Ulrik Strange, sent by Lennart Brix, turns up and asks Lund for help in a case in which the body of a woman was found in a Copenhagen park commemorating the Danish Resistance in World War II.
I was introduced to Here I Am director, Beck Cole, and supporting actor, Marcia Langton, at the same time: Cole directed Langton – the firebrand historian, who called a racist a racist – in the series First Australians. Here I Am brings these two women together again.
It’s ironic that as the debate rages about whether Australian film is too depressing, one of the best movies due soon for release is a comedy, a romance and a superhero movie.
The Spanish have been churning out some remarkable movies recently. For example, a Spanish film of interest out at the moment is Buried, a “single setting thriller,” in which we see Ryan Reynolds thrash around in a wooden box for just over 90-minutes.
If you’ve read anything about The White Ribbon, perhaps in anticipation of the film, you would have come across the Q&A with director, Michael Haneke. In it, Haneke explains why he chose as a setting a village in Northern Germany prior to World War I. I will reprint it, because it is instructive in understanding this film.
Living around people drip-feeding on welfare, you notice quick how much they waste away not just the money they inebriate themselves on, but the very fabric of the neighbourhood. Depression is a state of mind and they own premium bonds. Leaving is the only way to find a light, and you know they're not going to do it any time soon.
Now an old bickering couple squabbling over copyright and legacy, now the strength of connective tissue that is love between a man and a woman living out one's final days in a station master's home. Of course, that titular location (Astapovo station - Аста́пово) casts the last breath of Leo Tolstoy and this, an end stem biographic of the slice.
Spluttering up a mean dose of determination, the lungs give out as the back of the throat cakes over with a dusty and dry void. And the asthma strikes again. And there, in the wilds of Bolivia, Ernesto "Che" Guevara hacks up the resolve, fortitude and the sheer essence of convictions to lead himself down the path of a sequel that proves that there are few exceptions to the rule. The Bolivian uprising, not so wheezy hot.
Che: Part One is sandwiched between Ernesto “Che” Guevara’s first meeting with Fidel Castro in Mexico, in which Guevara joins the 26th of July Movement that eventually overthrows Batista’s government, and Guevara extracting a promise that he would be allowed to export the revolution to the rest of Latin America. This not only sets up the second part of this four-hour tour-de-force, it also gives an insight into the sort of person that Guevara was. After all, the notion of exporting a revolution to an entire continent, before having actually successfully achieved one of any kind is audacious to say the least.
Wake up in a mop sweat in bed at number 4 Susannah Place and, if you're lucky (time travel wise), you're in the early rat-infested era of Sydney (there are no time travel insurance policies). Take an afternoon stroll through the hospital where the nurses are all Catkind, and you're in the indeterminate future far from here. Voices, smells, location and decay. All signs pointing to where you are in time and conflict. Mix them all up and something just feels rather anachronistic about it all.
Making off with half a chocolate bar, wherein the other half turns out to be no picnic at all, the path across busy roads lead the walk to a lost huddle and hassle of a cleaner in the lobby of the State Theatre's adjunct. Wrong way, down and around a retro spin. Take an out and head down underground below the city streets. And here is the tale writ in film of Samson and Delilah directed by Warwick Thornton.
