Samson and Delilah

Every few years a film comes along and is touted as the saviour of the local film industry.

“This is the one,” say the breathless critics and industry lobbyists “that shows what we really can do.”

Samson and Delilah is the latest unfortunate to be tarred with that brush, although it was probably unavoidable given its Camera D’Or win at Cannes. And while it’s a good film, it’s far from the pinnacle of creative achievement.

Largely played as dumbshow, we track the movements of the eponymous young aboriginal couple through their awkward courtship, tribal excommunication, hopeless struggle to fit into a white world and something that might be redemption depending on how you choose to look at it.

As a movie it’s not dissimilar to Sean Penn’s Into the Wild, although here the sleepy town of Alice Springs is the unforgiving wilderness and the outback represents the comfort and safety of home.

The main difference for this film is the role played by the majority of those sitting in the audience. The impact of European culture on aboriginals is a central theme, both in terms of passive neglect and active exploitation.

It’s an important point to make, although it wasn’t entirely successful.

A pointed dig at the indigenous art industry for growing fat off the back of a starving community is justified, but one can’t help feeling the film-makers here are indulging in a similar sort of behaviour.

3.5 out of 5

Star Trek

Here we go. This is where I add my voice to the growing chorus of admiration for J.J. Abrams and his new Star Trek movie.

I was all keen to hate it too. Star Trek movies have a history of being bloated gabfests or extended TV episodes filmed in 35mm, but this wasn’t. It’s actually really good.

And I hate to admit it, but therein lies the rub. The reason it’s really good is that it’s not really a Star Trek film at all. It’s more like a Star Wars film. (Original trilogy of course, not the later ones. Which ironically were more like Star Trek films. But I digress…)

It’s fun, it’s action packed, it doesn’t pay too much attention to previous canon or scientific principles, and there wasn’t even one scene where Starfleet suits sit around a conference table crapping on about how to deal diplomatically with those darn Romulans.

Rather, we get the classic original series approach of tooling around in starships, shooting first and asking questions later.

The ships are shiny and new, Kirk’s a young punk, Spock’s not quite as emotionless as we remember, Uhura’s sexy as hell and Simon Pegg as Scotty is just hilarious.

The series needed a serious reboot, and this was it. It’s a great universe with great stories to tell, but the stiff stylings of previous cinematic outings weren’t doing its longevity any favours at all.

What J.J. has given us here is most definitely Star Trek, Jim, but not as we know it. And it’s about goddamn time.

4.5 out of 5

Knowing

In a remarkable display of consistency, director Alex Proyas follows up uneven science fiction thriller I, Robot with uneven science fiction thriller Knowing.

Nicolas Cage mopes his way through the movie as grumpy academic John Koestler, whose son finds a sequence of numbers buried in a time capsule which, when analysed, turn out to accurately predict the dates and locations of major disasters.

Happily it’s not just pareidolia, and audience fears that the plot might devolve into the silliness that was Jim Carrey’s The Number 23 are quickly dispelled.

The disasters actually do unfold in predictably spectacular fashion, and the movie thunders along with lots of nice set-pieces and some very impressive effects. In fact, the action is so relentless that one is left with barely a second to ponder the immense implausibility of it all. Which is probably just as well.

Proyas handles it all very nicely, right up until the final sequence when the subtle biblical imagery inexplicably morphs from a tap on the forehead to a sledgehammer in the face. I’m not sure that was strictly necessary.

To top it off, there’s a garbled explanation of Determinism that deserves to join Jurassic Park's treatment of Chaos theory in the Hollywood Hall of Scientific Theory Abuse Fame.

Still, it's all good fun.

On a side note, Melbourne viewers will be amused by the attempts to pass Melbourne off as Boston, particularly when it involves geographical miracles like getting from the CBD to Carlton by heading south on Princes Bridge.

3 out of 5

Watchmen

Arriving more than twenty years after the famed graphic novel and beleaguered by cries that it is inherently unfilmable, we finally have the much-anticipated Watchmen film.

And I’m a little ashamed to admit I’ve not read the novel.

I would offer the defence that I chose to see the film first, but the prosecution would counter that I only became aware of the novel once talk of the film had begun. And then I would be screwed.

What I will say is that as it stands, this is an excellent film.

In a densely-packed story of all-too-human superheroes, we get to see the social consequences of state-sponsored vigilantism, just how much getting around in an costume fighting crime can fuck you up, and all set in an alternate 1985 where Nixon is still President,

That only one of the eponymous Watchmen is actually a superhero is a brilliant device. This has always been (sticking to the DC universe) the difference between Superman and Batman: while Supes is an alien with real powers, Batman’s just a rich dude with a lot of cool gadgets.

Watchmen shows us that in reality, the idea of them working together in some sort of Justice League is ridiculous.

The superman’s inherent inhumanity will eventually crystallise as apathy, and the gadget guy will be unmasked as one pathetically seeking acceptance (an nice idea explored recently in The Dark Knight).

And so it is here: mutual mistrust eventually blows them apart. And set against the background of 1980s nuclear paranoia, the potential for destruction is made very metaphorically clear.

4.5 out of 5

Oscar Nibbles Part 3

The final bite. See you at the show, kids.

Changeling Actress (Angelina Jolie), Art Direction

Clint Eastwood directs this nice little film based on an apparently true story of LA police corruption circa 1928.

It’s a bit all over the shop trying to be a family drama, a conspiracy thriller, and carry a police procedural sub-plot that feels a bit tacked on.

Still, it’s good and Angelina’s good. But not so good that you ever forget it’s her.

3.5 out of 5

Milk Picture, Director (Gus Van Sant), Actor (Sean Penn), Supporting Actor (Josh Brolin)

A biopic of gay rights activist Harvey Milk is particularly topical right now, particularly given the recent shenanigans around the nefarious Proposition 8 in California.

It’s sad that the main take-away message from this film is that even after 30 years, so little has changed.

Sean Penn does his usual quality job in the title role and Josh Brolin’s terrific as his evil nemesis.

4 out of 5

The Wrestler Actor (Mickey Rourke), Supporting Actress (Marisa Tomei)

Grounded in an extraordinary performance from comeback kid Mickey Rourke, this is a visceral and moving film to rival any of the great sportsman-as-damaged-hero classics.

Here the hero’s pain is brought to wince-inducing life as his psychological damage is played out on the screen as physical trauma.

It’s ridiculous that this isn’t up there for Best Picture and Best Director.

4.5 out of 5

Oscar Nibbles Part 2

Time’s running out, so I better get through these quickly.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button Picture, Director (David Fincher), Actor (Brad Pitt), Supporting Actress (Taraji P. Henson)

Very long and reasonably slow but somehow without being boring or turgid. The director is just taking his time to tell a story that needs time to tell properly.

Besides, the last half-hour has a great emotional payoff that makes the previous gruelling two-and-a-bit a more than worthwhile investment.

Brad Pitt is fine as the eponymous Benjamin and for once it’s Cate Blanchett chewing the scenery.

3.5 out of 5

Revolutionary Road Supporting Actor (Michael Shannon), Art Direction

Channelling his earlier work American Beauty, director Sam Mendes beautifully captures the angst of being trapped in the gilt cage of 1950s suburbia.

Easily one of the best in the line-up this year and criminally under-nominated.

Why the hell wasn’t Kate Winslet nominated for her performance in this instead of The Reader? Like she said herself in that episode of Extras: “How many more movies do we need about the Holocaust? I mean, we get it, it was grim.”

4.5 out of 5

Frost/Nixon Picture, Director (Ron Howard), Actor (Frank Langella)

There’s absolutely no good reason why a film about a TV interview should be so enthralling. Yet it is.

This film is just beautifully crafted. The political machinations behind the scenes reflect the ones being discussed in front of the cameras.

And the parallels to our recent Presidential misdemeanours are made clear without being rammed down our throats.

Ron Howard, this almost makes me forgive you for The Da Vinci Code.

Almost.

4 out of 5

Oscar Nibbles Part 1

The Oscars are almost here.

And I’ve obviously left it far too late for my usual bloated and self-indulgent reviews of all the films involved.

Apart from anything else, I haven’t even seen them all yet.

So here are some short reviews of some of the films nominated.

The Reader Picture, Director, Actress (Kate Winslet)

I could happily watch Kate Winslet read a phone book (does that even mean anything anymore? Who uses a phone book?) so given that she spends the film getting read to, instead of reading, in this respect this film failed to make me happy.

However, she did get her tits out. That made me happy.

4 out of 5

Slumdog Millionaire Picture, Director (Danny Boyle), Cinematography

It’s much-feted and tipped to sweep the pool but it’s easily the weakest of the lot. Or at least, the weakest of the ones I’ve seen so far.

Little more than a tedious exercise in style over substance, it’s like Trainspotting had a simultaneous fun-ectomy and transplanted faux-social conscience.

Mr. Boyle, what were you thinking? And where the hell is 28 Months Later?

2.5 out of 5

Doubt Actress (Meryl Streep), Supporting Actor (Philip Seymour Hoffman), Supporting Actresses (Amy Adams and Viola Davis)

This is one of those films obviously based on a stage play so it’s all about the performances and a natural magnet for acting nominations.

Set in 1964 amidst Catholic Church upheaval in the wake of Vatican II, Doubt tells the story of a priest and a young boy.

Three guesses what it’s about.

It’s really good, though. And Philip Seymour Hoffman is awesome.

4 out of 5

More to follow.

Grace

Grace is the latest production from the Melbourne Theatre Company, telling the story of Grace Freeman, an atheist scientist whose son announces that he wishes to become an Anglican priest.

On the surface this seems a pat set-up for the usual Dawkinsian science vs. religion arguments. And while they do get an airing, the play is about much more than that.

There’s nothing new in any of the arguments portrayed: they’re the usual suspects regularly trotted out on the interwebs, in print and from the pulpit (religion is irrational / atheism is narrow-minded / religion brings death and destruction / science can say nothing about the divine).

But quite deliberately, the writers of Grace have only lightly touched upon the debate, and allowed themselves space to make a much deeper point: that when it comes to our human relationships, the way we interact and the way we communicate, these things eventually stop being important.

At some point, being right doesn’t matter so much as being compassionate.

And getting so tied up in the debate that you miss that point can lead to real tragedy.

While the script seems clunky in parts (although that may have been the actors struggling with some of the technical and very fast dialogue), Noni Hazlehurst steals the show as fiery fem-Dawkins Grace and is well-supported by the small cast, particularly Leah Vandenberg as her pious son’s girlfriend.

Grace is essential viewing for anyone interested in the continuing debate on the influence of religion in our lives, and also highly recommended for anyone who thinks we’re all taking it a bit too seriously.

4 out of 5

The Day The Earth Stood Still

When a film is so beloved by generations of nerds (myself included) any attempt to remake it is well and truly behind the 8-ball before it even begins. It’s bound to be met with scorn, derision, calls for the heads of the producers etc.

Just put “the day the earth stood still sucks” into Google and see if I’m wrong.

A lot of the derision is around the casting of Keanu Reeves as emissary-from-the-stars Klaatu, originally played by Michael Rennie.

I think it’s actually a fine piece of casting. Klaatu’s taken on human form but hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet. What a perfect excuse  for wooden acting and awkward movements.

And of course, the original being 57 years old means that a lot of the plot updates were necessary.

The threat of nuclear destruction (the original film being grounding in Cold War-era nuclear paranoia) has been replaced with the threat of environmental apocalypse, and the government security requires a bit more hoop-jumping for Klaatu to escape.

Other changes are just to ratchet up the cool factor, like the silver-jumpsuited robot Gort becoming an agglomeration of nanobugs and the flying-saucer spaceship a nondescript glowing orb.

The thing I found really interesting was the Klaatu-as-Messiah imagery (only hinted at in the original) being so much stronger, giving the story a very clear link to Christian end-of-days mythology.

Watch out for references to God-born-as-human, healing hands, forgiveness, stigmata, sacrifice and a new world order. They’re all there.

Of course, the point of the film is an admonition to protect the environment and while this important point is made, in a few places it all gets a bit lost in the cheese.

For some reason modern Hollywood scriptwriters stumble when writing profound dialogue. It was managed much better in the original film, but it could be that Michael Rennie was just a better actor than Keanu.

Either way, like most modern cinematic science-fiction this manages to walks a fine line between saying something important and saying it well.

3.5 out of 5

Australia

It’s entirely appropriate that a movie called Australia should be directed by someone called Baz.

Ever since Barry Crocker and Barry Humphries did Barry McKenzie it’s a name that’s more representative of the country than just about any other.

Having said that, the earlier Barries managed to make their film a genuine (if narrowly-focused) cultural article, unlike the latter Baz’s odd mixture of nostalgic jingoism, selective cultural memory and a broad-brush style intended to mimic epic storytelling.

While Australia is trying hard to be Gone With The Wind, it ends up somewhere between We of the Never Never, Crocodile Dundee and Pearl Harbour.

That’s not to say it’s a bad film, but there’s probably one too many moments that provoke an unnecessary cringe . . . I’m thinking it’s around the fourth or fifth time Hugh Jackman says “Crikey!”

On top of that, Nicole Kidman is dreadfully miscast as uptight Brit Lady Sarah Ashley. While her stony-faced persona is fine in the early stages of the film, the story demands that she soften at some point and while you can see her Acting with all her might, it just never happens.

The film is really grounded by Hugh Jackman, who manages to channel the outback spirit as the otherwise nameless Drover. But even he can’t save a relationship doomed to a dire lack of chemistry. Where was Kate Winslet when this movie was being made?

Beyond these minor quibbles though, the film ticks all the right boxes.

The cinematography is Oscar-worthy, the cast is peppered with All The Big Australian Names^TM (Bryan Brown? Check. Jack Thompson? Check. Bill Hunter? Only for about two seconds . . . but check), and the story ticks along nicely making the film seem much shorter than its almost-three-hour running time.

It’s all highly entertaining, but probably not the cultural classic some were hoping for.

Still, it’s worth seeing if only for Hugh and Nic’s incredibly awkward kissing.

Crikey indeed.

3.5 out of 5

The Apotheosis of the Dance

Hamer Hall, Melbourne

The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra has capped their 2008 season with a beautiful performance of 19th and 20th century pieces.

They began with Mendelssohn’s Hebrides Overture, a fine example of 19th century water music and beautifully rendered.

Next was Bartók’s Piano Concerto No. 1, a fine example of why a lot of 1920s-era orchestral music is best forgotten.

While I’m sure it takes great skill to play it, its atonality and lack of structure make it sound more like the jazz noodling than anything by the Masters.

After a brief intermission to recover from that, we were ready for the star of the show: Beethoven’s mighty 7th symphony.

This was why we’d come. The 7th is one of the finest pieces of music ever written, perfectly capturing the great Ludwig Van at the height of his passionate and creative power.

When first performed in 1813 it was so different from anything heard before that it prompted critics to label Beethoven a madman. You can see where they’re coming from: it starts slowly, winding up through two funereal movements to a third that is nothing short of joyful, before grinding out the final stages in Beethoven’s more signature heroic style.

What was he thinking? Ludwig only knows, but what he did know was how to take your soul on a journey.

The title of the concert is a reference to Wagner’s description of Beethoven’s 7th.

It was, Wagner felt, a divine rendering of the human spirit in music. And in the masterful hands of the MSO and conductor Oleg Caetani, it certainly was.

Q2: Quantum of Solace

Daniel Craig returns for his second outing as Bond, James Bond and it’s not half as bad as a lot of reviews might have led you to believe.

Following on directly from Casino Royale, Bond is on the trail of the murderers of Vesper Lynd (remember the chick from the last movie? no? well, it doesn’t really matter) and as is so often the case, runs across a supervillian intent on world domination.

The formula is in keeping with the novels, as we have Bond managing to save the day and get the girl(s) while being a grumpy bastard who regularly flouts the rules. And on the plus side, it’s much more successful than the last attempt to turn the cinematic Bond into a renegade-on-the-outer (1989’s Licence to Kill).

There are some technical issues, with choppy editing in the action sequences rendering a lot of them incomprehensible, and some dialogue issues rendering some scenes unintentionally laughable.

Also, the plot-to-rule-the-world could have been a bit more impressive. Western society as we know it was never really threatened, so note to the producers: you’ve lost 90% of your audience right there.

But on the whole it’s a lot of fun. There’s a nod to Goldfinger (nicely following on from Casino Royale’s nod to Dr. No) and we’re starting to see the introduction of the sardonic quip.

Daniel Craig’s probably got a few more Bonds in him, and hopefully he manages to keep this same tone for the remainder. It’d be dreadful to see the series devolve into the likes of Moonraker and Octopussy.

4 out of 5

Q1: Quarantine

Ever since The Blair Witch Project, every punk with a camcorder thinks they can make the next Citizen Kane.

The latest in the don’t-worry-about-the-cinematography-cos-its-all-real-don’t-you-know genre is Quarantine, which actually owes as much to 28 Days Later and I Am Legend as it does to Cloverfield.

We follow the adventures of reporter Angela, as she in turn follows the adventures of a group of Los Angeles fire-fighters, with the disembodied voice of her trusty camera guy in tow.

A call to a city apartment block leads them to a sick old lady, and enough stereotypical residents (mother+daughter, check, grumpy middle-aged guy, check, non-English speaking couple, check) to generate a bit of incidental confrontation along the way.

The shit goes down when the building is quarantined by the Centre for Disease Control, and all of a sudden everyone is looking for a way out and wondering who’s going to get infected next.

If you ignore the plot holes (why, when infection is such an obvious risk, are the sick not being isolated?) and forgive the telegraphing of what-happens-next, there’s a lot to like here.

Jennifer Carpenter is very good as reporter Angela and the supporting cast is strong. The action sequences are reasonably well-framed (particularly given the restrictions inherent in the format) and there are some genuinely suspenseful moments.

On the downside the camera work is probably a bit too messy, and the film loses some points because it becomes pretty clear early on that some key plot developments had been given away in the trailer.

Also, they pinched the final scene from Silence of the Lambs (where it was done much better).

But still, good horrible fun.

3 out of 5

Emiliana Torrini

The Forum, Melbourne

Sometimes known as the other Icelandic waif (but only by people who deserve to be slapped for saying it), Emiliana Torrini has returned to Melbourne with her new album Me and Armini.

Comparisons to Bjork are inevitable but unfair. The fact is they're worlds apart in musical style and while I love Bjork (although I preferred The Sugarcubes to her solo stuff) Emiliana is so much more . . . adorable.

It's almost three years since Emiliana was last here, and she carries the baggage of very high expectations. Her last Melbourne gig (at The Corner, as it happens) was truly amazing. I've never before seen a Corner crowd fall utterly silent during a song, and I don't suppose I ever will again.

This most recent show didn't quite have the magic of that one (something in the air that night? Or the water?) but where it fell short in magic it was more than made up for by comedy.

Emiliana is the master of the ribald joke, and it's all the funnier coming from someone who looks and sounds the the girl next door's next door neighbour. Last time it was the story of her guitarist falling into a whale's vagina, and this time a comprehensive description of accidentally doing a show in a partially see-through dress.

To my delight it also became clear that she's a sci fi geek, when she had the audience do the 5-note piece from Close Encounters just for her own amusement.

In between all of this was a very nice selection of songs from all her albums, beautifully rendered by one of the most amazing voices in music today.

So the laughs were plentiful, the band was tight, the music was lovely and Emiliana was and ever will be . . . just adorable.

4 out of 5

Llareggub

RMIT Kaleide Theatre, Swanston Street.

Dylan Thomas' play Llareggub (often referred to by its US title Under Milk Wood) is a patchwork of voices floating on the ether, as we imagine ourselves drifting through the minds of the inhabitants of the eponymous village.

While this makes it perfect fodder for radio (its intended medium) it's very difficult to translate effectively to the stage. But the recent RMIT production faces this challenge with some success.

In a very engaging production the setting is one of organised chaos, with all actors on the stage at all times. This seems to be an attempt, mostly successful, to recreate the wafting movement of sound implied in the radio play, by constantly having the eyes of the audience moving in circles to follow who is speaking.

While this was fine, some of the technical limitations were distracting, such as characters passing around the few hand-held microphones. Also distracting was the wide variety of accents on display (some of them somewhat impenetrable) and, as can be expected in a student production with this number of speaking parts, the range of the performers' abilities.

Overall though it was very enjoyable, with particular standouts being Samantha Bond as the harridan Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard and Sam Sejavka as the Reverend, who, amidst many other competent but mannered performances, managed to take the play into the surreal places it's supposed to go.

3.5 out of 5

The Mentalist

It's nice when local boy makes good. And for Simon Baker/Denny/Baker-Denny, this may finally be the show that washes the vestiges of Home and Away out of our collective memory.

I'm only one episode in, but I can say with some confidence that The Mentalist is a great show.

There's the usual good writing, good characters, blah blah etc. But what makes this really cool is the skeptical tone it takes, and its outing of psychic investigation as the fraudulent nonsense that it is.

Baker plays Patrick Jane, ex-television psychic (a thinly-veiled reference to John Edward . . . notice how they both have two first names?) who now works for the police as a sort of consultant. He's one of these guys who can walk into a room, spot the important clues and have the thing solved while his colleagues are still finding their notebooks.

His powers seem paranormal to those around him, but when asked by one of the civilians he meets "are you psychic?" he simply answers, "no . . . just paying attention."

There's shades of Jonathan Creek in the crime-solving elements, and shades of The X-Files in the mood and characters. The latter is actually no great surprise, given the presence of regular X-Files helmer David Nutter as director. In addition, Baker's mentalist has a whole Mulder/Scully thing going on with colleague Teresa, but this time around, Scully's both the guy and the star of the show.

It's great to see some science-based fiction on TV, and hopefully this'll go some way towards countering the mountains of crap like Medium and Ghost Whisperer.

4 out of 5

Toni Childs

The Corner, Richmond

Not being a huge fan of hippie diva Toni Childs, I wasn't hugely keen to see her play live.

My wife was keen, but apparently only because it would in some sense be (quote) "hilarious".

While that's all very well, I'm an old-fashioned guy and I have this old-fashioned pre-post-modernist view that I should spend my time doing things I actually enjoy, rather than things I might ironically enjoy.

Still, long story short: I had no intention of going, someone cancelled at the last minute, and I went.

And to be fair, I quite enjoyed it. The band was great and the show was energetic. Toni's vocals aren't quite what they were back in the day, but she still managed to belt out a decent version of Don't Walk Away.

Stop Your Fussing was just as annoying as it was 20 years ago, but at least it was the opening number and so got out of the way early.

Following that, the show was good if not startlingly good, and the usual dip-in-the-middle that comes as they launch into tracks from the new album was actually a highlight, because I hadn't heard them enough to be sick of them yet.

2.5 out of 5

Which is good. I was expecting to give it 1.

WALL-E

After its US release almost three months ago, Pixar's new film WALL-E has finally been released here in Australia.

Presumably local distributors are banking on the just-begun school holidays to rake in the crowds, but this is far from just a kid's film.

It carries a deep environmental message without moralising, a level of character development rarely seen, and some of the most sophisticated CGI animation around.

I won't bother recounting the plot (you'd have to be living under a rock not to know what this film's about so if you have been living under a rock, you can read all about it here), but I will say that for all its complexity this is paradoxically one of Pixar's most accessible films, and it's not nearly as preachy as you might expect.

As a science fiction movie it ticks all the boxes with technology writ large on a dystopian future, the theme of what-does-it-mean-to-be-human explored in some new and interesting ways, and repeated references (both explicit and implicit) to 2001: A Space Odyssey.

While the film is generally brilliant the opening scenes are the strongest, with little robot WALL-E working away conscientiously on a devastated Earth. The film loses focus a little when the story moves into space and we see what has become of the human race, but it all comes together in the end.

And like most Pixar films it's well worth staying through the credits to catch the artfully-rendered epilogue to the story.

It's been well worth the wait.

4.5 out of 5

Scorched

Last night we were treated to the world premiere of Scorched, a new Australian bushfire disaster movie.

It was disappointing, to be honest. But this isn't completely surprising. Apart from a brief flirtation with low-budget exploitation films in the seventies, Australian filmmakers don't have a great history when it comes to genre films.

In a sense, we've been victims of our own (limited) success.

Muriel's Wedding sent everyone scrambling to produce the next low-budget family comedy, and Lantana prompted a huge volume of overwrought family drama.

While these were great films and it's all very well to try to produce more stuff like that, you can't make a living from it.

You need a regular round of crowd-pleasers to fill the coffers, which can then in turn support the quality productions.

So where are the action movies? Where are the buddy comedies? Where are the horror films? Where are the gangster/heist/caper movies?

We have hordes of great screenwriters, directors, and actors ready and willing to ditch their artistic integrity and pump out some lowest-common-denominator dross for a quick buck. So what's the problem?

Well, it's actually quite simple. In fact, Scorched typifies precisely what the problem is, and it's this:

Australians just don't get how to make genre films.

Example: Scorched is a disaster movie about a ring of bushfires threatening Sydney. As such I, the viewer, go in expecting three basic elements:

(1) A shot of an enormous fire-front looming over the city, silhouetting the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge;

(2) A group of wild-eyed characters realising the ground is shaking, just before being almost trampled by a herd of kangaroos fleeing the flames, preferably down George Street; and

(3) A crazed religious character from Queensland, screeching that the fires are God's wrath against the city of sin, and then attempting to stop the flames with prayer before meeting a fiery death.

These are the basic, basic elements of this sort of film. And they just weren't there.

What we got instead was a film with far too much introspection and far too many attempts to be clever.

And that's the problem. This sort of movie isn't about chin-stroking reflection.

It's about visceral reaction. It's a popcorn movie. It's a gee-whiz special effects thrill ride.

This is disaster porn, for goodness sake.

Now do it properly.

An Innocent Russia Writhed

St. Paul's Cathedral. Flinders Street.

One of the final events of this year's Melbourne Writer's Festival was a reading this afternoon of works by Russian poet Anna Akhmatova.

Akhmatova lived through some of the greatest upheavals of the twentieth century: the Russian revolution, two world wars, the rise of the communist state and the awful tyranny that accompanied it. These were the times that unalterably shaped the political landscape of Europe and the world.

Her poems were banned for many years by the Central Committee, and hearing their passion and power it's not surprising. They capture the feeling experienced by a people trapped by their history, and a people powerless to fight the forces arrayed against them.

But while her words reflect the despair for what has been lost, they also shine with the hope for what may be retrieved.

It's a celebration of the human spirit, best summed up in this beautiful piece read by Helen Garner.

Everything is plundered, betrayed, sold,
Death's great black wing scrapes the air,
Misery gnaws to the bone.
Why then do we not despair?

By day, from the surrounding woods,
cherries blow summer into town;
at night the deep transparent skies
glitter with new galaxies.

And the miraculous comes so close
to the ruined, dirty houses --
something not known to anyone at all,
but wild in our breast for centuries.

Anna Akhmatova, 1921