TRUE SPIRIT

Stars: Teagan Croft, Cliff Curtis, Anna Paquin, Josh Lawson, Todd Lasance, Alyla Browne, Bridget Webb, Stacy Clausen and Freya Callaghan.
Writers: Rebecca Banner, Cathy Randall and Sarah Spillane; based on the book True Spirit: The Aussie Girl Who Took On The World by Jessica Watson
Director: Sarah Spillane.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

Since 2010, when the then 16 year-old defied every naysayer and some of the planet’s harshest conditions to become the youngest person to complete a solo, unassisted and non-stop trip around the world, Jessica Watson has remained a devout advocate for self-belief and goal-oriented living. Named the 2011 Young Australian of the Year, she has spent the best part of the last decade instilling in a generation of young people the will and drive to make dreams come true.

Director Sarah Spillane’s adaptation of Watson’s bestselling memoir instils a similarly aspirational tone, while hitting all the beats that those familiar with the adventurer’s journey will expect. With ace DOP Danny Ruhlmann in peak form, Spillane’s second feature (after 2013’s Around the Block, with Christina Ricci) exhibits a strong cinematic flair that demands you see True Spirit on the big screen, during its brief local theatrical window (it hits Netflix on February 3); a sequence against the night sky and set to Bowie’s ‘Starman’ is especially breathtaking. Her collaboration with Oscar-nominated editor Veronika Jenet (The Piano, 1993; Rabbit Proof Fence, 2002) is also top-tier, with the criss-crossing flashback/present day narratives meshing flawlessly.

As the sailor driven by a yearning to connect with the planet’s great watery expanse, Teagan Croft delivers a revelatory central performance. From the unshakeable realisation that the world’s oceans are her calling to the psychologically debilitating loneliness on becalmed seas to the life-threatening storm fronts that batter her physically, Croft embodies all that we have come to understand about the remarkable person that is Jessica Watson. It is a star-making turn for the young actress, whose potent screen appeal and ability to convey both fragility and fortitude in key moments represents a rare acting commodity.

Some dramatic licence is afforded the ‘family and friends’ support network that Watson drew upon before and during her voyage. Josh Lawson’s portrayal of father Roger Watson conveys a level of anxiety that has been tempered from the real-life version; the family patriarch was very vocally at odds with her daughter tackling the journey. A terrific Cliff Curtis plays Jessica’s spiritually-aligned mentor Ben Bryant, a wholly fictional construct by Spillane and co-writers Rebecca Banner and Cathy Randall that represents several guiding figures in the sailing community who helped prepare the teenager. Also conjured are scenes invoking a pre-teen Jessica’s early focus and conviction, brought to life by the radiant and commanding Alyla Browne.

Jessica Watson is that rarest of iconic archetypes - a person so flesh-and-blood real as to be instantly relatable, yet a heroic figure whose accomplishments are unlikely to ever be rivalled. That is a tough combination to capture and convey in a film, especially when so many details are already indelibly etched in a nation’s conscience. Yet Sarah Spillane and Teagan Croft have pulled off the adventurer’s story with all its bewildering reality and existential joy intact. The production not only deeply respects her seafaring accomplishments, but also the legacy it has afforded her name.

THE PHANTOM OF THE OPEN

Stars: Mark Rylance, Sally Hawkins, Rhys Ifans, Christian Lees, Jonah Lees and Jake Davies
Writer: Simon Farnaby
Director: Craig Roberts

Rating: ★ ½

The Phantom of the Open is based upon the true story of Maurice Flitcroft, a factory worker who offset the anxiety of his impending retrenchment by acting on a whim - he liked the look of golf on the tele, so he filled out the entry form and somehow managed to gain a spot in The 1976 British Open Golf Qualifying Round. Of course, having never played the game, he shot the worst round in Open history, yet became a folk hero in the process.

These ‘sports underdogs’ stories have a long and rich film history, the best of their kind being pics like the 1979 cycling drama Breaking Away or the 1993 bobsled comedy Cool Runnings, but Phantom of The Open isn’t really like those films. Sure, it’s got sport in it - the cinematically-challenging spectacle of golf - but those films identified with and seemed to actually like their heroes. But Phantom of The Open feels like a piss-take, a shot at both this dippy, working-class dolt and the establishment he snuck one pass to become a national laughing stock.

No, Phantom of The Open is more like another film I hate, the 1997 Australian film The Castle. Both base their “comedy” upon the premise that you have to be a bit dim to stick to your working class morals in the face of modern society, and it's a bloody hilarious miracle if by doing so, you get the outcome you’re hoping for. The Castle turned working class Australians into idiots and then conned us into laughing along at them, and Phantom of The Open tries to pull off the same schtick.

It is also no surprise that Phantom of The Open is written by one Simon Farnaby, whose script for Paddington 2 earned him a BAFTA nomination (wtf?). In Mark Rylance’s terribly mannered, vaguely condescending performance as Flitcroft, you have what is essentially a cartoon figure, like Paddington, trying to cope with the real world around him and the real world deciding to laugh along at his buffoonery.

Actor-turned-director Craig Roberts pumps up his Forrest-Gump-on-the-fairways story with period-appropriate add-ons, succumbing to the cinematic feel-good shorthand that disco hits and flared trousers provide. It’s all so shallow and flash-in-the-pan as to suggest there wasn’t that much to Flitcroft’s achievements or, in Rylance’s one-note portrayal, the man himself, in the first place.

BELFAST

Stars: Jude Hill, Jamie Dornan, Catriona Balfe, Ciaran Hinds, Lewis McCaskie, Lara McDonnell and Judi Dench.
Writer/Director: Kenneth Branagh.

Rating: ★ ★ ½

Director Kenneth Branagh claims that his latest work is a recollection of moments from his life as a wee lad on the streets of late 60s Belfast. Sectarian conflict is on the rise; Catholic and Protestant rioters are tearing apart the terrace homes and small businesses of the poor working class communities. Barbed wire and curfews and late night patrols are altering the fabric of tight-knit pockets of friends and family.

And ‘family’ is what Branagh wants you to believe his film is really all about. The strapping father (Jamie Dornan) who heads off every week to London to find work; the stoic mum (Outlander star Catriona Balfe), who is slowly unravelling as she tries to raise two boys and run a household by herself; and the wise old grandparents (Ciaran Hinds and Dame Judi Dench), who are good for a cuppa and some wisdom when called upon.

We experience this world through the eyes of an adorable innocent named Buddy (Jude Hill), who is going through all the torment one must as a 10 y.o. 1969 Belfast - getting the cute classmate to notice you; struggling with the fire-and-brimstone message of the local pastor; facing off against Catholic rioters; dealing with a family dynamic that is clearly strained.

It’s a bit insufferable that Kenneth Branagh recalls himself as such a perfectly lovable little boy, but inflated self-perception has never been a problem for Branagh. And that bloated sense of one’s own worth courses through Belfast, which wants to be a loving ode to family unity in a time of turmoil but feels more like Branagh impressing himself with the most strained camera angle to make his black-&-white photography look good. This is a ‘60s-set coming-of-age story seen through the lens of a ‘90s Guess jeans commercial.

I had the same reaction a few years back when everyone was frothing on about Alfonso Cuaron’s Roma, another impenetrably arty monochrome “masterpiece” that also wanted to recall the simple beauty of family love and that ultimately, like Belfast, failed to do so. Branagh, like Cuaron, seems less interested in recalling key moments from his working class upbringing and more obsessed with making sure you never forget his new film.

Late in the story, as their world is imploding and they are faced with moving to London, Buddy’s parents commandeer a dance hall and belt out a version of ‘Everlasting Love’. It is a totally incongruous sequence that reeks of manipulation and undoes the thin connective tissue of all the drama that went before it. But, damn, if it doesn’t look beautiful. 

And that’s how I’ll remember Belfast. Not as a dissection of social upheaval as seen through the eyes of a boy whose innocence is dismantling, or a domestic drama about the new wave of immigrants forced from their traditional homes - both themes hinted at but left unexplored by Branagh. I’ll remember Belfast as a twee collection of Irish cliches and stunningly photographed dirt and bricks.

WHITNEY: CAN I BE ME

Featuring: Whitney Houston, Bobby Brown, Cissy Houston, Robyn Crawford and John Russell Houston Jr.,
Writer: Nick Broomfield.
Directors: Rudi Dolezal and Nick Broomfield.

Screens at Sydney Film Festival on June 7th and 9th, then in national wide release from June 15.

Rating: 4.5/5

Returning to the ‘music icon dissection’ sub-genre of his most commercial works Kurt & Courtney (1998) and Biggie and Tupac (2002), Nick Broomfield hits a shattering high note with Whitney: Can I Be Me, a soaring celebration of a once-in-a-generation talent and a heartbreaking study into the corrosive pressure that fame and addiction can inflict.

The British documentarian’s skilful manipulation of archival material and interview content is combined with remarkable reels of never-before-seen film, shot in 1999 by Rudi Dolezal. The music video maestro (Freddie Mercury: The Untold Story, 2000; Sarah Brightman: Harem A Desert Fantasy, 2004) accompanied Whitney Houston and her massive live show entourage as they traversed Europe on what would be her last successful tour. It can be surmised that Dolezal was crafting an insider documentary along the lines of Madonna’s Truth or Dare, but as the gruelling schedule persisted, the songstress’ health and performances deteriorated and the footage became unreleasable.

Houston, who passed away February 11, 2012 at the age of 48 in a bathroom at the Beverly Hills Hotel, is recalled as a precociously talented pre-teen belting out gospel standards in her New Jersey neighbourhood church. The uniqueness and scope of her majestic voice is clear to all who come into her world, none more so than her driven mother Cissy and loving father John. Broomfield has dug deep to find early live shows and Houston’s first TV appearances, including her Tonight Show debut at the age of 19; the footage is still awe-inspiring to watch.

The first act of Whitney: Can I Be Me is a rousing ode to her vocal range and the meteoric rise to superstardom that she achieved under record boss, Clive Davis. But the seeds are sown for her downfall, as well; she was a recreational user from an early age and, more worryingly, she is pilloried by the black community for selling-out her African-American roots and refashioning herself as a mainstream-friendly pop princess. Broomfield drills down on the combination of elements that factored into his subject’s fate, most tellingly her need to hide her bisexuality and long-term relationship with closest confidant, Robyn Crawford, and her co-dependent marriage to rapper and fellow substance abuser, Bobby Brown.

Stylistically recalling fellow Brit Asif Kapadia’s similarly tragic Oscar-winner Amy (2015), Broomfield eases his pacing to allow for a deeper, more soulful understanding of just how far Houston had descended into mental and physical ill-health (in one unforgettable moment, Diane Sawyer rattles off a list of narcotics and asks, “Which is your greatest demon?”; Houston replies, “I am.”) The final period of Whitney’s life, in which her behaviour became erratic and her voice weakened, has been the subject of much public derision but Broomfield, not always known for his subtlety with his celebrity subjects, admirably refuses to include well-circulated footage of her sad last performances. Instead, he is blunt about the human tragedy of her final days and the hotel room details of her death, which portray a woman in the grip of the darkest thoughts.

There are some ‘easter egg’ moments along the way that provide brevity, including the revelation that it was The Bodyguard co-star and producer Kevin Costner’s decision to pull all instrumentation from the beginning of Houston’s biggest hit, I Will Always Love You. Broomfield opens the film with a single take live rendition, tight on Houston’s face as it contorts and strains to command the arrangement, all captured by Rudi Dolezal’s camera 18 years ago.

The footage reveals both the physical toll and emotional connection that Houston shared with her biggest hit, which has gone through incarnations as blockbuster ballad to kitschy joke to where it stands today; an achingly emotional testament to one of the greatest singers and most-troubled public figures that popular entertainment has ever known. A description that is also entirely appropriate for Broomfield’s and Dolezal’s film.

HARRY DEAN STANTON: PARTLY FICTION

Featuring: Harry Dean Stanton, David Lynch, Debbie Harry, Kris Kristofferson, Sam Shephard, Jamie James, Logan Sparks and Wim Wenders.
Director: Sophie Huber

Rating: 4.5/5

Feature-length documentary debutant Sophie Huber’s filmed biography of character actor Harry Dean Stanton achieves the precise laconic, abstract, existential depth and grace one associates with the man himself. An artful, mesmerising ode to the ultimate character actor’s outlook on the industry and life in general, …Partly Fiction never teeters over into hagiographic adulation yet manages to convey the very uniqueness that has made Stanton the enigmatic force he is today.

Portraying a man who exists within a sharply-defined world focussed via his own experience, Swiss filmmaker Huber employs subtle, lovely camera technique and lulling sound design to capture Stanton as a benevolent spirit, rich in wisdom. Credited with 40 years worth of iconic support turns in films as diverse as Cool Hand Luke, The Missouri Breaks, The Straight Story, Alien and Repo Man (all cliped here), and one of American cinema’s most affecting lead roles (as ‘Travis’ in Wim Wenders’ Paris Texas), the subject is now a ragged, camera-friendly presence who doesn’t give up a lot of words yet still conveys a great deal.

Ironically (or, perhaps, fittingly, given his skill at choosing well written parts), Stanton’s true self is most revealed in the lyrics of his favourite songwriters. He breaks into song regularly (accompanied by his offscreen guitarist friend), usually to the words of Johnny Cash; in one sequence that conveys just how respected he is by actors and musicians alike, he is serenaded by his Cisco Pike co-star Kris Kristofferson (from whose song, ‘He’s A Pilgrim’, the film draws its title).

The softly-softly approach Huber takes pays dividends when Stanton drops the occasional incisive bombshell. Most shocking amongst them his recounting of his long-term but ultimately doomed love affair with actress Rebecca de Mornay; “I lost her to Tom Cruise,” he laughs, recalling the fling the toothy star and leading lady had during the shooting of 1983’s Risky Business.  Another revelation hinted at is the actor’s past with punk-pop queen, Debbie Harry.

Harry Dean Stanton’s Hollywood standing is legendary; he is humbly open about his relationship with Hollywood players such as Marlon Brando and ex-roomie Jack Nicholson. One the films most delightful passages is a couch chat between Stanton and his seven-time collaborator, David Lynch (it could have been eight, it is revealed, had Stanton taken the Dennis Hopper role in Blue Velvet, a part he was offered but felt was too dark for his sensibilities).

Perhaps the most revealing scenes are those that capture Stanton as the ‘everyman’, downing shots at his local bar with old friends who adore him and young suited types who don’t know who he is (in one hilarious sequence, he convinces an ignorant twenty-something that his real name is ‘Ron’ and that he is a ex-astronaut who now works for NASA).

But both Stanton and Huber understand that true character is defined by the most non-verbal of traits; the lines in the aging actor’s face, or the pauses and silences that Stanton dwells in whilst contemplating, are the film’s greatest strengths.

Particular credit must go to DOP Seamus McGarvey, who lensed Stanton’s bit part in last summer’s blockbuster The Avengers but here exhibits a true artist’s touch; his use of crisp black-&-white cinematography for the interview close-ups captures every ragged crevice of the subjects face, while his warm, rich use of night-time colour helps Stanton become one with his surroundings.

Read the SCREEN-SPACE feature, Troupers: An Appreciation of Character Actors, here.