The Field Guide To Evil: NZIFF Review

The Field Guide To Evil: NZIFF Review

Anthology films are always a tricky bunch.

Usually mixed in tone, and with one segment standing out above all others, the films generally suffer from indifference which mars part of the rest of the viewing experience.

Sadly, The Field Guide To Evil also falls into that category - a wild mix of tones, with some repeated undercurrent themes, and some successful, some not so successful celluloid miniatures.

It's fair to say that The Field Guide To Evil will probably hit genre fans more than the average audience, but that's not to dismiss the film's desire to explore folklore which has helped seed roots in horror throughout the years.

It's easy to pick a superlative entrant into this octet of creepy folklore tales- it would be Peter Strickland's final segment, The Cobbler's Lot, which mixes fairytale myth, silent film aesthetics, some truly wonderful imagery and colour, and elements of The Cure / Radiohead's There There for its tale about two brothers smitten by the same woman.

It's a stylistically bravura end to a rollercoaster ride that does some things well, and others not as well. And it's also one that doesn't quite feel like you know what's coming next, something that hits others in the anthology.

Some of the tales end either abruptly or obtusely, with no real time to dwell on what's transpired or what it all means - though there's plenty of fodder for discussion afterwards.

Themes are interlaced throughout - with visuals like woods appearing in most, and even animals like goats appearing repeatedly. Interwoven are common themes like greed, avarice, sin, guilt, takes on post partum depression, and the supernatural. There's a lot to commend The Field Guide To Evil's scope and desire to cover the bases, but perhaps this crowd-funded flick should have settled on some and expanded them out more, chopping the chaff from the wheat.

Opener Die Trud has a totally intriguing start to proceedings, with the tale of forbidden love and consequence working well. And the segment Die Rote Maus involving a possessed creature leaving a body to kill at its host's well-being is stunningly evocative, cleverly promising more if it were to be expanded out.

Perhaps less successful is the comic Melonheads, which mixes cannabilism and coneheads to varying effect. Tonally, it stands out from the volume, but coming midway, there's an argument to say that this palette refresher has its own purpose.

Overall, the uneven edges to The Field Guide To Evil make it an anthology that promises potential and never quite manages to build on it.

That said, some of its standalone tales make a solid case for further development  - and the short storytelling element shouldn't be dismissed, with the global cast of directors doing much work with soundscapes to evoke feelings in such short spaces of time.

Midnight Oil 1984: Film Review

Midnight Oil 1984: Film Review

Director: Ray Argall

A mix of social commentary and searing concert footage, Midnight Oil 1984 captures a moment in the history of the band, and a moment in the history of the world of our Trans-Tasman cuzzies.

Lain dormant for some 30 years, the unearthed footage that makes up Argall's documentary is fascinating for those with a passing late interest in the band, and a vital one to those who were inspired by them.
It helps greatly that 1984 was a political touch paper moment for Australia, with global concerns we'd all die in a nuclear furnace enveloping all of us. Thank goodness, that will never concern us again, eh?

But Midnight Oil 1984 is an odd mix, and in some ways, it very much feels like the Peter Garrett show, as the enigmatic frontman's tilt at a Senate position and his involvement with the Nuclear Disarmament Party consumes much of the film.

Once the revelation of how that bid went is revealed, the film races towards a conclusion, feeling a tad rushed and almost dismissive of what the band did next. (Their mega-hit Beds Are Burning only appears on the credits of the film.)

It's interesting that Argall's assembled the band in separate talking heads formats, primarily appearing to be shot in either bedrooms or back yards as they reflect on how the swell of political awakening both galvanised their music but also led to fears of how the band would cope with their frontman's potential change of career, how it would affect their music etc.

It's a shame this isn't investigated further as the potential split is only hinted at, and briefly explored by conversations with guitarist Jim Moginie and drummer Rob Hirst. A deeper probing may have helped, but it's probably not what the documentary wanted to be, preferring isntead for viewers to take their own opinions on what's happened and why.

Midnight Oil 1984 firmly showcases Peter Garrett, putting him front and centre of its spotlight, whether it's footage of him meeting school kids and talking to them or dealing with press in a park at a photocall; it's clear he's got the charisma the band needed and collectively the drive they all shared.
It makes for interesting viewing - and particularly when the band discuss Garrett's infamous dancing, there's a genuine warmth and humour that envelops them all. (In truth, the film could do with a few more looser moments.)

Elsewhere the film concentrates on using footage from the band's searing performances - and it's here the cinema soundsystem will work best, channeling their electricity and crackling live gigs into something exceptional.

It's stirring, searing stuff, but it's also at odds with what Midnight Oil 1984 is trying to do.

At times, the documentary feels like it's torn between social document, political history and musical catalogue - it's not always successful, but what it does do is lay out the reasons why Midnight Oil was such a flashpoint in 1984 and makes a case for why they've endured in the years after.

Three Identical Strangers: NZIFF Review

Three Identical Strangers: NZIFF Review

Slick and surprising, Three Identical Strangers benefits from the less-you-know approach going in.

Opening with a talking head saying "When I tell people my story, they don't quite believe it", there's very much the feeling of a shaggy dog approach as it first begins.

Essentially, it's the story of how Bobby a freshman at a US college in 1970 showed up on his first day and was told he was someone else - repeatedly by other people on campus.

Deciding to meet with this "other person", a world opens up to Bobby he could never have expected -and it gets stranger from there.

There's a certain amount of zip from Three Identical Strangers as it progresses initially with such gusto you wonder how director Tim Wardle will continue its pace. It has the feel of a viral tale writ large, a hoax gone mad, and a truth long buried with implications from the beginning - but in the latter stages of the piece, there's more to chew on than the headline-grabbing opening, a sense that something is dreadfully unfinished.

Themes are explored and with degrees of sensitivity throughout - apart from one galling sequence towards the end, much too spoilery to discuss, but which presents accusations that are not even close to being backed up and which sit at odds with the rest of what transpires.

There's a feeling that Three Identical Strangers slows a little in the back third, as it becomes weighed down in its bigger issues - it forgets and loses the humanity that keeps it so grounded and informative early on. However, Wardle has fashioned a story that keeps the viewer so engaged at the outset, that you're willing to overlook such transgressions toward the end.

Ultimately, Three Identical Strangers presents a story well told, with a kernel of something more within - it feels like it raises more questions than it asks, and brings to mind The Imposter, from a New Zealand International Film Festival a few years back. It's likely to be a talking point of the festival for anyone who views it, and certainly, the ramifications demand more exploration.

It's just a shame that final 10 minutes feel so baseless in their aim - certainly after what's transpired, there's no reason to be anything other than riveted throughout.

Sign O' the Times joins the NZIFF line-up

 Sign O' the Times joins the NZIFF line-up

Sign O' the Times joins the NZIFF line-up

Thirty years after its Auckland International Film Festival debut, Prince’s legendary concert movie Sign O' the Times escapes music rights limbo just in time to make the perfect late addition to our 50th birthday celebration. “To watch Sign O’ the Times now, in the wake of Prince’s shocking death, is to experience all of his gifts at once, with an intensity so fierce it tempts the boundary between pleasure and neural shutdown. Here, in 85 incandescent minutes, is proof that all those otherworldly talents – that voice, that guitar playing, that style – somehow all fit inside the same physical being, a circumstance that would have been implausible had he been eight feet tall instead of just a hair over five. Although it was filmed in different locations and Prince’s frequent costume changes suggest significant breaks between songs – it takes time to switch from Spandex overalls and a white fur coat to a jean jacket and a policeman’s cap – it nonetheless feels live in a way concert movies rarely… You’re not just watching a performance; you’re seeing music being made.” — Sam Adams, Slate Sign O' the Times screens Sunday 5 August, 8.30 pm at the Civic. Tickets are on sale now online and in-person from the NZIFF box office.

Bludgeon NZIFF Review

Bludgeon NZIFF Review

Carrying on the trend ploughed by Florian Habicht et al, Ryan Heron and Andy Deere's Bludgeon is a small treasure on the NZIFF programme, a doco that has elements of the Office and the heart of an against-the-odds competition.

It follows a group of modern knights looking to represent NZ in the sport of 'medieval combat', something one competitor intones should be an Olympic sport.

Starting with a montage of knights fighting and cutting to the reality of the Steel Thorns running drills in a deserted carpark, Heron and Deere's self-effacing, yet affectionate, doco has stardom writ large upon it.

Taking us through the journey are various members of the realm. From rookie Nick Waiariki, his mullet as strong as his desire to knight and whose helmet resides securely fastened on the back seat of his car to Martainn "The Machine" Cuff, Captain of the Thorns, who has a fear of wolves and whose tendency toward David Brentism is revealed early on by a line "We've got around 290 likes on Facebook today, by the end of the day, I hope to make 297 or maybe 300", this is your usual gaggle of awkwardness writ large.

But rather than mock those Geeks meets Jocks fighters, Deere and Heron's funny doco gets to the bottom of a sub-set in middle Earth for whom honour and code of conduct forms the basis of much.

In many ways, like Pecking Order did, Bludgeon threatens to expose a rift that seems unnecessary to bridge, before wisely pulling back into a character piece and celebration of what New Zealanders truly are.

Deere and Heron's camera lingers unobtrusively throughout, and catches fleeting moments that reveal much - certainly "The Machine"'s fear of wolves gives much fodder and payback later on.

Packed with humour and heart, with a genial outlook and large swathes of humanity, Bludgeon is yet another celebration of what truly makes New Zealand tick, and another demonstration that all walks of life deserve celebration, even when their unswerving devotion to their cause bemuses and amuses.

I Used to be normal - A Boyband Fangirl Story: NZIFF Film Review

I Used to be Normal - A Boyband Fangirl Story: NZIFF Film Review

The pantheon of boybands is never ending.

Screaming girls, packed together in throngs, crying and loudly adoring their wannabes.

They're an easy target for mocking, for those outside of the current obsessions of the popworld.

And yet, director Jessica Leski's affectionate doco, which began life on Kickstarter, seems to douse its subjects in a universal appeal that it makes their obsessions seem normal.

Centring on four different fans - 16 year-old Elif, who's a One Directioner, Dara, 33, who's a proclaimed Take That fan, 25 year old Sadia, a US Backstreet Boys fan and 64-year-old Susan who was there at the start of the trend with her Beatles love - Leski's piece becomes more of a rounded piece as it goes on.

It begins with the obvious, with all of the quartet explaining their loves for their musical heartthrobs, but yet as it continues, I Used to be normal - A Boyband Fangirl Story actually shows the dichotomy of society and what these women face thanks to their obsession.

For Sadia, it's moments of self-examination after going on a Backstreet Boys' cruise; for Dara, it's self-reflection on who she is, why she still needs boybands; for Elif, it's a sign of her growing and tragic divide with her life choices and her family and for Susan, it's a reminder of good times had and friends lost.

It's a clever touch deployed by Leski, who could so easily have over-indulged in the cheesiness proffered by such subjects of adoration. However, even though Sadia's practically drooling at Backstreet's video Quit Playing Games with My Heart, what you begin to see is her coming-of-age via her idols in a Muslim world that's strict.

And the conflict Elif faces with her family is heartbreaking as the chasm opens.

Leski's strength lies in never mocking her subjects, and never mocking the crucial growing up experience that is fan adoration.

As a result, the success of the pace, coupled with the nicely put together archive footage and open moments of their subjects means I Used to be normal - A Boyband Fangirl Story proffers an inclusive exploration of Boybands, their eternal appeal and their fans' formative experiences.

Whitney: Film Review

Whitney: Film Review

Director: Kevin Macdonald

At first glance, there's no reason why Kevin Macdonald's Whitney doco should work.
Whitney Houston's demons were more or less covered in Nick Broomfield's 2017 documentary Whitney: Can I Be Me, leading the casual viewer to the feeling that another couldn't really add much more to the mix.

But what Macdonald's doco has is more access to family archives, in among the inevitable talking heads, and it's made the world of difference in the 120 minute running time.

The chronicles of Whitney's problems are not new, and while Macdonald's addition to her story is accusations of sexual abuse of Whitney in her childhood, a lot of the ground covered will be familiar to those who've seen the prior doco.

That said, what Macdonald (Last King of Scotland, State of Play) does is craft together a biographical piece that gleams in the spotlight of familiarity. Assembling together a veritable trove of archive material and interviews only of the closest members of Houston's remaining clan, Macdonald creates a portrait of a woman whose dreams and desires were gradually eroded by the industry and familial greed.

From the success of Houston's trailblazing musical ways in the mid 80s to the nondescript demise in a bathtub in 2012, Macdonald's packed the 2 hours with more than enough material to offer a full picture, and with a view to tautly editing proceedings, he's ensured there's never anything less than compelling material on screen.

The drugs Whitney fell into are widely discussed in the latter part of the piece, but Bobby Brown shuts down any talk of this in one of the few moments that frustrates. Macdonald prods further, but a lack of any level of engagement makes it difficult, and also demonstrates some of the problems Whitney Houston faced, with no one really willing or able to discuss her demons for fear of derailing her pop train.

Several scenes have Houston's soulful voice ring out, and it still provides goosebumps, even to the non-fans. Earlier insights such as Houston's nickname Nippy, and mother Cissy Houston's discussions add much to the doco's joie de vivre before the inevitable maudlin last 20 minutes or so kick in.

Macdonald keeps proceedings simple, letting others do the talking - but there are moments of flair.

Montages of Houston's music are intercut with 80s pop culture references (from Pepsi ads to space shuttle launches, presidents and fellow pop stars), an intermingling reminder of how of the time Houston was and how prevalent her music was in the cultural collective consciousness.

Aside from all of that, what Whitney does, and does exceedingly well, is provide a compellingly complete portrait of what happened, and how it happened. Occasionally, the why becomes a little lost in the telling of the story, and the intuitive touches Macdonald brings helps lift the weaker touches out of any mire.

Willing to explore both the good and bad of Houston, the personal and the all-American tragedy,

Whitney is a fascinating narrative, a warts-and-all exploration of where the dream went wrong, a distillation of a clutch of complex issues that all collided in one person.

Whitney is a thrilling and deeply engaging documentary that deserves to be up there with the best of the genre - a true exploration of a troubled genius, and an at times, damning indictment of the greed and abuse of others within the industry, and more upsettingly, within the should-be-safe circle of family.