Shame

1988, Australia, directed by Steve Jodrell

A very strong 1980s film that sadly feels equally relevant today. It's grounded in a sharp analysis of toxic masculinity, grounded in a specific rural Australian reality but not in any way restricted to that environment, and features an excellent central performance by Deborra-Lee Furness, as an unapologetic, self-confident lawyer taking a solo trip through the outback. Her character draws on Western tropes, literally riding into the dusty small town and introducing a new vocabulary of justice. The film neither shies away from nor revels in its depiction of violence, and the conclusion comes as a genuine gut-punch.

King of the Coral Sea

Australia, 1954, directed by Lee Robinson

A Chips Rafferty pic that also marked Rod Taylor's debut, and it's not hard to spot the nascent star quality. Very formulaic, and at times very wooden, but with a distinctive location in the Torres Straits, and some excellent marine photography. It was apparently a big hit in its home country back in the day.

The Boys

1998, Australia, directed by Rowan Woods

An exceptional piece of work that stands up well after twenty years, and numerous gritty Aussie crime pics/TV series in the interim, clearly owing a considerable debt to this picture. The Boys seemed like a start of great promise for Rowan Woods, so his subsequent career trajectory has to be rated a relative disappointment by that standard (it's hard to see what's specifically distinctive in his episodes of  the TV series Rake, for instance); perhaps, in the end, the distinctive aspects were mostly there in the original play, even if the visuals certainly seem to add a considerable depth to the portrait of this particular, unpleasant milieu. 

Malcolm

1986, Australia, directed by Nadia Tass

Very light, and interesting mostly as a time capsule these days, including of Melbourne's trams of the era, though the performances are generally quite pleasing (even if Colin Friels's character would likely be handled differently in 2018), and the set pieces mostly well-paced.

27A

1974, Australia, directed by Esben Storm

The story of an alcoholic detained under mental health provisions, this is a genuinely gritty affair, with Robert McDarra in the lead; he died the following year, which is perhaps why he looks authentically ill here, while Bill Hunter plays the primary orderly (needless to say, he's not a pleasant fellow). Several sequences are very hard to take -- there's an authenticity to the physical altercations that's quite unsettling and also an occasional Titticut Follies vibe. The whole thing looks quasi-documentary, too, as though the print was blown up from 16mm. 

Last Ride

2009, Australia, directed by Glendyn Ivin

Hugo Weaving as a criminal on the run, trying to bond with his son. Though the film makes liberal use of well-worn tropes, the bond between Weaving and the young boy (Tom Russell) has a sincerity and a realism that's quite affecting at times -- it's not hard to believe in the idea of them as father and son, however dysfunctional -- while the photography/use of the Australian landscape is excellent, without descending too far into clichés about the outback as a malevolent character in its own right. Indeed, right at the moment I assumed the film was going to proceed in that direction it creates a little victory for the characters and restores the focus on father/son. 

Winter of our Dreams

1981, Australia, directed by John Duigan

A mixed bag of a film, with the central drama perhaps less interesting today than the Sydney backdrop, with Bryan Brown trying to retrace the life of an old flame in the aftermath of her suicide, and connecting with a mutual friend, played by Judy Davis. Brown's character is frustrating in his emotional closure (some critiques appear to fault the actor for this, and perhaps he and Davis didn't hit it off, but his character's affect is clearly motivated by the plot), a contrast to his usual garrulous charm of the period, whereas Davis is much more engaging even if her character lacks nuance. The sense of characters reliving and re-evaluating their youthful enthusiasms is at times quite sharp, as is the sketch of Sydney politics/development of the time, however much in the background.

The Dressmaker

2015, Australia, directed by Jocelyn Moorhouse

Last Cab to Darwin

2015, Australia, directed by Jeremy Sims

Thoroughly enjoyable road movie, with a very fine, and largely unsentimental, central performance from Michael Caton. There’s a good deal to savour in the depiction and deconstruction of various aspects of Aussie masculinity, which presumably comes from the original stage play, though the film version is in addition quite stunning from a visual perspective. The picture is also notable as a fairly benign depiction of the country’s vast interior, at least from the white perspective – there's little of the threatening aspect that is explored in other Aussie films dating back to the 1970s, while it provides glimpses of Aboriginal life that are quite rare in films not explicitly geared at such themes (it surely owes some debt to Backroads in that respect). 

The Killing of Angel Street

1981, Australia, directed by Donald Crombie

Despite its flaws, Phillip Noyce's Heatwave is a much more interesting take on events surrounding and succeeding the disappearance of Juanita Nielsen in 1975: this a prosaic film, saddled with a dreadfully obvious soundtrack and a weak romantic subplot. However, Liz Alexander, in a very rare lead role, is generally strong as the primary character, growing in conviction as the film develops and proving very convincing at the finale.

Crocodile Dundee

1986, Australia, directed by Peter Faiman

A textbook example of making a film for the global market while retaining some local colour, with everything that implies both negative and positive: Paul Hogan's script does a fine job of collecting and repurposing all manner of Australian tropes (the bushman, attitudes to the law, Aboriginals' status) without actually saying much about any of these subjects except lifting an amused eyebrow, while the film gleefully embraces the sexist/racist/homophobic asides so common in Hollywood cinema of the 1980s. The New York nightlife scenes, in particular, are cringeworthy, though the early going does retain a good deal of charm, especially when John Meillon is on screen.

The Babadook

2014, Australia, directed by Jennifer Hart

I spent the three months from December 2014-March 2015 making a final push to finish my PhD. In had little time to watch films and even less time to blog about them -- and I suspect that for want of brain space, many of the films I saw during that period will be too quickly forgotten, though director Jennifer Hart's supreme control over her material, and her film's extraordinary soundscape, will linger for quite some time.

Heatwave

1982, Australia, directed by Phillip Noyce

Like Noyce's earlier Newsfront, this is strong on ideas but not always entirely convincing in execution, partly on this occasion because of the imbalance in acting talent: Judy Davis is a formidable performer cast in a no-nonsense role, and pairing her with the rather pallid Richard Moir in a milquetoast part was always going to be a tricky marriage. In addition, Davis's story, as a journalist/activist in the complex political terrain of a major Sydney building project, is a good deal more interesting than the moral qualms that Moir navigates, although that narrative does give some additional insight into the shadings of grey attendant on any politically sensitive undertaking. Visually, Noyce does a fine job -- the very striking scene when Moir drives to the scene of a fire is a good example -- with his camera doing a good deal of quite mobile work that serves to accentuate the overall thriller vibe. I also liked the sense of connections only partially made, to ensure that the viewer remained an active participant; in an interview Noyce remarked on this as something characteristic of the time in which it was made, and that he'd probably be asked to make things a good deal more emphatic if he made a similar story now. 

Petersen

1974, Australia, directed by Tim Burstall

With Alvin Purple director Burstall at the helm, I anticipated a film far more ocker in spirit than the reality, which is more social commentary than broad laughs, consistent with the 1970s oeuvre of writer David Williamson. It's by no means a perfect film in terms of its social attitudes -- among other flaws there's a reasonable amount of what a later viewer might call "mansplaining" in the title character's interventions on behalf of feminist groups, something that's characteristic of Williamson's writing more generally.

As acute as he is in examining the Aussie male of the 1970s and 1980s, Williamson is a good deal less clued-in (or perhaps less interested) when dealing with the Aussie female, and the conclusion is, to say the least, rather jarring: it's difficult to say whether the brutal event or its insouciant aftermath is more unsettling. Jack Thompson is quite brilliant in the lead -- it's not at all hard to see why he became a star on the strength of this and the subsequent Sunday Too Far Away. There's something amazing in seeing an actor transform into something more than just an actor before your eyes: I was distracted by Errol Flynn in Captain Blood for exactly that reason -- not only is he visibly becoming "Errol Flynn," but he knows it full well.

The Sapphires

2012, Australia, directed by Wayne Blair

A bit of a genre mishmash, crossing Good Morning Vietnam with The Commitments and adding a dash of Rabbit-Proof Fence, with the result about as confused as you might expect, and miles away from the true story that inspired the film. The film is a good deal better on Australian soil than Vietnamese, with the outback setting quite nicely evoked in both its positive and negative aspects, while the actors, particularly Deborah Mailman and Chris O'Dowd, are both energetic and effective. There are some very amusing moments in the first half, too, as the musical act slowly takes shape, and before the film enters bumpier territory with respect to the Vietnam war backdrop.

The Picture Show Man

1977, Australia, directed by John Power

A feather-light film by comparison with much of 1970s Australian cinema, this is still a wonderfully enjoyable romp -- exploring a more distant cinematic past to that of Newsfront with some of the same peripatetic spirit but less ambition to social commentary. The great pleasure is seeing John Meillon in a very rare front-and-center role: so memorable as a sidekick or character actor in everything from Wake in Fright to Crocodile Dundee, here he even gets to show off his song and dance skills. Harold Hopkins is well cast as his son, too: sometimes, he's a bit too caffeinated for my taste, but the youthful energy works well on this occasion. Less successful is the return down under of Rod Taylor as Meillon's nemesis: Taylor seems removed from the spirit of the enterprise both in accent and attitude and I'm sure a locally-based actor like Ray Barrett could have done more with the role.

Stir

1980, Australia, directed by Stephen Wallace

Bryan Brown was a busy man around 1980, moving from smaller parts to the big time with Breaker Morant and this very fine prison film, based on an actual prison riot that took place in Australia in the 1970s. Like Short Eyes a few years earlier, the film is written by an ex-con and it's very good on some of the small details of prison life, particularly, in this case, the fine gradations of power not just between prisoners and guards but within each of those groups; also like the American film, there's a bluntness about sex, particularly in the prison context, that's refreshing by more recent standards. Brown sometimes comes across as a rather lazy performer, coasting on his charm rather than pushing himself, but here he's fully committed in a role that's by turns magnetic and unsympathetic.

Newsfront

1978, Australia, directed by Phillip Noyce

Newsfront feels like two films uneasily stitched together: a compelling portrait of the Australian newsreel teams of the postwar, pre-television era that is interspersed with a schematic set of domestic interactions that introduce moments of melodrama on a predictable schedule. The domestic dramas are sometimes used to provide some commentary on the broader social changes at work in Australian society (such as the challenges of reconciling Catholic values with new social mores, or the uneasy relationship with the United States), but on other occasions they feel trite and distracting from the real meat of the film. The most engaging moments are all related to the actual business of making the newsreels: Noyce intercuts actual footage with some remarkably well-staged recreations, particularly of the 1955 Maitland floods, but also, in a more light-hearted vein, the long-distance Redex motor trials or the coming of television, which surely must have been seen as a greater threat than the film suggests given that the Australian newsreel industry would have been well aware of the medium's impact in the US.

Goodbye Paradise

1983, Australia, directed by Carl Schultz

A terrific showcase for the wonderful Ray Barrett in a relatively rare lead role, Goodbye Paradise is also engaging as a tweaking of noir tropes. The film opens with Barrett in voiceover, sounding suitably world-weary as he casts his eye over Surfer's Paradise, on Australia'a Gold Coast. The genre elements are front and center in the early going: Barrett plays an alcoholic former cop trying to complete a book while fending off his landlady's financial demands, and spending his evenings in some of the town's more down at heel haunts (apart from its other virtues, the film must surely have some considerable value as a snapshot of its particular time and place). The almost genial initial tone gradually shifts as Barrett begins to sense something increasingly sinister at work behind the political scenes, with the film suggesting that the Gold Coast's seediness is grounded in something more profoundly rotten (rather characteristically for this period of Australian-New Zealand film, the nefarious threat emanates at least partly from the US).

The FJ Holden

1977, Australia, directed by Michael Thornhill

Something close to an anthropological look at late-1970s suburban disaffection, Michael Thornhill lets his camera linger on the minutiae of teenage behaviour, whether it's wandering the mall in search of a meal or a girl or the parties and drinking that punctuate a generally humdrum existence on the working class fringes of Sydney. While the acting is at times a little rough around the edges, it also manages to capture some of the awkwardness of the teenage characters, uncertain of their thoughts and with the men certainly unable to communicate their feelings in any meaningful way. As in Puberty Blues the women, although almost always in subservient roles, take some small steps toward liberation, and are at least able to articulate some of what ails them, unlike the beer-drinking males who seem doomed to tread in their fathers' footsteps.