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Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 14 September 2022

The first thing that strikes you about Moonage Daydream is how different it is from other biopics and docos about famous musicians.  It would fit into the documentary genre but its style is anything but traditional.  There are no current day interviews where friends and colleagues tell us how great David Bowie was.  There is no high-profile narrator telling us what to think and filling in gaps where footage doesn’t exist.  There is no desire to show events in chronological order with the film jumping back and forth between parts of Bowie’s life.

I like this line from director Brett Morgen - “If you can put it in a book, I don’t want it in my films.”  Morgen doesn’t want his film to be a history lesson that people could just as easily read about on Wikipedia.  He wanted to provide audiences with a wild, uplifting “experience” and capture the essence of the late David Bowie through the mediums of sight and sound.  You can appreciate this as a devoted, long-time Bowie fan, or as a relative newcomer to his artistic endeavours and fascinating life.

Having earned the trust of the Bowie estate, Morgen was given access to over 5 million assets including artworks, photos, writings, interview clips, performance footage, and other behind-the-scenes material.  From conception to execution, it was a project that took roughly 7 years.  A decent chunk of that time was spent going through the previously unseen material to see what might be of use.  It’s a staggering achievement to condense it all into a 140-minute movie.

Described as someone who “never seems to stand still”, the David Bowie we discover (or perhaps rediscover) in Morgen’s documentary is full of creativity and philosophical insight.  He speaks of spiritual forces, differing personalities, the balance between love and art, and the meaning of life.  All of it provides an understanding of who Bowie was and what mark he wanted to leave on society.  It’s clear from old interviews that many television hosts couldn’t wrap their heads around his going-against-the-grain nature.

Moonage Daydream is chaotic at times (fitting with Bowie’s persona) and it may take multiple views to fully appreciate and digest all that it offers.  As it nears its climax however, it’s easy to see the themes coming together and you’ll see it as an inspiring movie that makes you feel better about the world.  It’s been over 6 years since Bowie’s passing but Morgen’s film will play a small part in ensuring his worthy legacy endures.

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Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 29 August 2022

Released back in 2009, the original Orphan had its fair share of fans.  I was one of them.  It took in roughly $80 million at the global box-office (four times its original budget) and received critical praise for the lead performance of newcomer Isabelle Furhman.  In case you missed it, it told the story of an adult Estonian woman who, because of her short stature, posed as a 9-year-old orphan and was adopted by an American family.  Suffice to say, her motives were not healthy (it was a horror film after all).

It’s been a 13 year wait for Orphan: First Kill which is set a few years prior to the original and therefore serves as a prequel.  Leena (again played by Furhman) escapes from a psychiatric hospital in Estonia and, after scouring the internet for missing persons around her age, decides to pose as an American named Esther Albright who went missing four years earlier.  She is transported to the United States and reunited with the Albright family – dad Allen (Sutherland), mum Tricia (Stiles), and older brother Gunnar (Finlan).

It’s hard to give this story any credibility.  You’d think someone within the family (or perhaps the authorities) would catch onto the fact that, while there are similarities, Leena is not Esther.  It’s not like she was a baby when kidnapped!  Were there no moles or birthmarks to check?  What about a standard DNA test?  Was anyone going to investigate her claims about being kidnapped?  Anyway, Leena/Esther weaves her way into the family (despite acting super weird) and it’s not long before she’s bonding with dad via art lessons in the studio.

About half-way through the film, the writers serve up an interesting twist which got my attention.  I won’t spoil but this singular moment is the best part of the movie.  It almost justifies buying a ticket to see it.  The problem thereafter is the film retreats back into the nonsensical and becomes even less coherent.  Was a bunch of stuff left on the cutting room floor?  The most ridiculous scene is where Leena/Esther decides to flee the house in the middle of the night but, upon reaching the lawn outside, has an abrupt and unexplained change of heart.

The more you think about Orphan: First Kill, the less sense it makes.  Filled with poorly developed characters, specialist horror director William Brent Bell (The Boy) fails to create something equally to its predecessor.

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Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 05 September 2022

A cinema manager told me 20 years ago – “no matter how much you hate a movie, there’s always someone out there who will like it.”  When it comes to my thoughts on the fast-moving After franchise, that statement has never felt more appropriate.  I loathed the 2019 original, I had similar thoughts about the 2020 follow-up, and I didn’t even watch the 2021 instalment (it went straight to streaming).

And yet, here we are with a fourth movie in as many years.  What began in 2014 as a trashy book inspired by One Direction fan fiction, has now become a moderately successful movie series.  It hasn’t set the box-office alight but its devoted supporters, largely female teenagers as evidenced by its Teen Choice Award win in 2019, have done enough to keep it going.

You may think I was biased going into After Ever Happy but I kept an open mind and hoped, with more experience under their belts, the cast and crew would have improved.  That wasn’t the case.  They’re sticking to what they do best – storylines that look stolen from a trashy daytime soapie and dialogue so cringeworthy that your eyeballs will be sore from rolling.  There’s a proven, established audience for this… but I’m not part of it.

If you’re new to the material, it’s about the on-again, off-again romance between the well-meaning Tessa (Langford) and the “guy from the wrong side of the tracks” Hardin (Tiffin).  Time keeps passing and yet these two cannot decide if they want to be together.  They’ll split up over something trivial (such as a misconstrued jealousy) and then get back together because of a dramatic event (such as a family member passing away).

Drawing from the novel by Anna Todd, After Ever Happy is more of the same.  The way we think about these characters during the closing credits is exactly the same as during the opening credits.  There’s no meaningful arc to the two lead protagonists, the supporting cast offer next-to-nothing, and the storyline is likely to fade from memory within hours of leaving the cinema.  It’s a franchise on life support – completely void of surprises and new ideas.

The cliff-hanger (if you can call it that) ending alludes to a fifth movie which we’re likely to see around this time next year.  I applaud the studio executives for getting fans to come back each year but even the most passionate of After devotees must realise they’re being played with by this point.  It’s tired, lazy filmmaking.

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Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 24 August 2022

Filmmakers come from a variety of backgrounds, but this is the first time I’ve watched a movie directed by an Archibald Prize winner.  Regarded as one of the highest honours in the world of Australian art, the annual $100,000 reward is presented to the artist who crafts the best portrait of a distinguished individual.  Del Kathryn Barton took the honours in 2008 for her self-portrait, and then again in 2013 for depiction of Australian actor Hugo Weaving.

Blaze is a movie that impresses at all levels.  The distinctive imagery is striking (you’d expect that given Barton’s background) but the intricate script, delicate characters, and subtle performances are just as good.  It begins with a shy 12-year-old girl, Blaze (Savage), witnessing a heinous sexual assault and subsequent murder in a treelined, suburban laneway.  She hid in a small nook so as not to be spotted by the perpetrator.

The film then delves into two main subplots.  The first is a more traditional narrative around justice.  Blaze was the only witness to the crime and so she must identify the murderer in court and describe what she saw.  She will face a tough interrogation from the defence team who will do whatever it takes (they stoop very low) to sow doubt in her mind, and make her appear a confused, unreliable witness.  Blaze’s father (Baker) tries to shield his daughter from the trial’s severity but there’s only so much he can do given its importance – particularly to the family of the victim.

The second subplot takes us inside Blaze’s troubled, fractured mindset when no one else is around.  Dealing with intense trauma is difficult for most adults let alone an innocent 12-year-old who lacks the maturity to fully understand what transpired.  Barton finds a way of “visually” showing Blaze’s tortured feelings by using imaginary, fantastical creatures.  This is illustrated on the film’s confronting poster which shows a small dragon breathing fire from Blaze’s mouth – a scene from the movie where she struggles to control her anger.

Newcomer Julia Savage is sensational in the title role and deftly displays the wave of emotions you’d expect from a kid put through such a situation.  There are moments when her anger bursts to the surface, and other moments when she’s overcome with guilt about not preventing the crime.  Simon Baker (Margin Call) is also very good as the softly spoken dad who wants to fully support his daughter but is struggling to work out the best way to do so.

Abuse and trauma are tough subject matters and so there are valid reasons for some not wanting to see this.  One hopes we never have to deal with what these characters are put through, but Blaze provides an eye-opening, gut-punching reminder that the world can be a messed-up place… and there are people who can help us deal with it.

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Written by Matthew Toomey

Created: 31 August 2022

It’s been almost ten years since I first saw Ang Lee’s Life of Pi and I still can’t get its brilliant finale out of head.  An interviewee tells two stories – one layered with rich, interesting, far-fetched fantasies, and the other filled with simple, painful realism.  He then poses a question back to the interviewer – “which story do you prefer?”  The answer reminds us that a fictitious tale can often yield more power and more resonance than one told solely using facts.

This same argument is at the heart of Three Thousand Years of Longing, the latest creation of renowned Australian director George Miller (Happy Feet, Mad Max).  The source material is a short story authored by English writer A.S. Byatt which was first published in 1994.  Sensing its potential as a feature film, Miller bought the rights to the novel back in the late 1990s and now, having finished a varied bunch of other projects, he’s finally found time to bring Byatt’s work to the big screen.

Oscar winner Tilda Swinton (Michael Clayton) continues her trend of playing quirky characters by stepping into the shoes of Alithea Binnie, a renowned academic who has spent much of her life studying stories and the way they change over time.  In a theme-setting opening sequence, she speaks to a packed audience about how, over time, myths have been replaced with facts.  To use a simple example, generations of people thought the world was flat but now, thanks to the wonders of science and other knowledge gained, we know that’s not the case (apologies to conspiracy theorists).

It’s at a small gift store in Istanbul where Alithea purchases a small, odd-shaped bottle as a memento of her time in Turkey.  Back in her hotel room, she opens the bottle in her bathroom and out pops a genie played by Idris Elba (Beasts of No Nation) who grants her three wishes.  Referred to as a Djinn (an old Arabic word used to describe genies), he quickly covers off the ground rules (you can’t wish for more wishes).  Interestingly, Alithea can’t wish for something simple like a glass of water.  She can only ask for what her heart desires.

It’s a curious conundrum for the astute Alithea who now finds herself stuck within one of the ridiculous, impossible-to-believe fables that she’s been studying for decades.  In true academic fashion, she uses it as an opportunity to inquire and learn.  Rather than think about her three wishes, she shifts the focus onto the Djinn and asks about his 3,000-year background and other wishes he has granted.  What follows is a series of visual, colourful flashbacks which help enlighten an intrigued Alithea.

I can’t help but draw comparisons with Life of Pi and, in doing so, find it to be the weaker and less challenging of the two efforts.  It’s pushing its repetitive messages very early on and I never developed a strong, heartfelt connection with the needing-to-be-saved Alithea we see in the current day.  The limitations of the screenplay are offset by the impressive direction of George Miller who uses an array of cinematic techniques (the cinematography of John Seale deserves a mention) to add flair and polish.

The early box-office figures out of the United States have been underwhelming and it’s likely that Three Thousand Years of Longing will be seen as a weaker entry on Miller’s stellar resume.  There’s an audience for this type of movie but I suspect it’s not a big one.