LE CHOC DU FUTUR

English: THE SHOCK OF THE FUTURE

Stars: Alma Jodorowsky, Philippe Rebbot, Geoffrey Carey, Teddy Melis, Clara Luciani, Laurent Papot, Nicolas Ullmann, Xavier Berlioz and Elli Medeiros.
Writers: Marc Collin and Elina Gakou Gomba.
Director: Marc Collin.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

MARCHE DU FILM 2020: The international music scene was ripe for rebirth by the late 1970s. Disco was dead; punk had self-immolated; the decade’s rock mega-groups had peaked. As Marc Collin’s thrilling, giddy Le Choc du Futur paints history, the global musical new wave that emerged from that stagnant period, dominated the next ten years and influenced the next forty, was borne out of smoky Parisian apartments and the pulsating, youthful energy of young women musicians determined to forge their own paths.

A composer/music producer making his feature film directing debut, Collin is not telling one woman’s true story, instead utilising his narrative to filter the experience and legacy of pioneering synth-pop names like Clara Rockmore, Pauline Olivieros and Beatriz Ferreyra (and a dozen or so others, all listed at the end of the film). It proves rich source material; Collin and co-scripter Elina Gakou Gomba craft a lead character that honours extraordinary drive and creativity.

Twenty-something Ana (Alma Jodorowsky; pictured, top) is bedsitting a very small apartment (the setting for the bulk of Collin’s film). She wakes, lights a smoke, stretches, dances to Cerrone's Supernature; she is a young, free, contemporary, feminine spirit. She is also established as a modern electronic-music composer, booked to write ad music by her manager Jean Mi (Philippe Reboot, bringing ‘70s music biz sleaze in spades), but her talent is not developing, frustrating her output and stifling her motivation.

Three fateful moments alter the course of Ana’s life and the direction of modern music in the process. When her synthesizer breaks down, a technician visits her with a state-of-the-art Roland CR-78 beatbox; her music guru friend (Geoffrey Carey) avails her to the rich sounds of such artists as Throbbing Gristle, Aksak Maboub and Human League; and, a voice-over artist (Clara Luciani; pictured, above) turns out to be an equally talented lyricist, penning powerful words to Ana’s new sound.

There is not a great complexity to the plot, so nuance and shading falls to Collin’s leading lady. The granddaughter of legendary director Alejandro, Alma Jadorowsky is an electrifying central presence; everything about Ana’s creative process, determination and self-doubt stems from Jodorowsky’s natural screen presence and warmth. 

The story’s relevance comes in its depiction of music industry misogyny; alone in her apartment, Ana fends off three leery male visitors in the opening twenty minutes. Jodorowsky is bound by the 1979 setting in forming her reactions, but the strength she displays in overcoming finely-honed microaggressions (“You’re pretty, just be a singer”) provides a true modern heroine’s arc.

Le Choc du Futur is mostly about the music, of course, and Collin (whose multi-hyphenated approach to filmmaking sees him handle the synth score as well) fills extensive sequences with pulsating beats and fluid aural soundscapes, as envisioned by Ana. It is a rousing story, underplayed to near-perfection, made grand by the sense of artistic discovery it conveys.

THE LEGEND OF THE FIVE

Stars: Lauren Esposito, Gabi Sproule, Leigh Joel Scott, Nicholas Adrianakos, Deborah An, Beth Champion, Eric James Gravolin, Matthew Pritchard and Tiriel Mora.
Writer: Peter McLeod
Director: Joanne Samuel

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ½

The Breakfast Club go to Ferngully in The Legend of The Five, the new Aussie Y.A. indie romp that leans heavily on the ‘80s teen movie beats to soft-sell a contemporary and urgent environmental message. Director Joanne Samuel and writer Peter McLeod show a lot of respect for their target audience, those socially-aware, issue-driven young people who look to Greta Thunberg in the same way their parents looked to Molly Ringwald.

The core group of characters are a demographically-diverse lot, clearly designed to appeal to as many corners of a modern high-school courtyard as possible. The key protagonist is displaced American Zoe (Lauren Esposito), whose dad has chosen to move to Australia to help cope with the death of Zoe’s mom. A loner at her new school, Zoe crosses paths with perky alpha-girl Caitlin (Gabi Sproule); her jock bf, Javier (Nicholas Adrianakos); dark, arty type Kaylee (Deborah An); and, bespectacled book-worm Brit, Owen (Leigh Joel Scott).

On a school excursion to a museum, the group find themselves in possession of a mystical wooden shaft (introduced in a thrilling prologue, set in 1922 and straight out of an Indiana Jones-type spectacle), that soon hurtles them across space and time into a woodland fantasy realm. Here, an ageing wizard (the great Tiriel Mora) sets their quest in motion - the chosen five are ‘elementalists’, representative of nature’s forces, and they must seek out The Tree of Knowledge (recalling James Cameron’s own enviro-epic, Avatar) and save it from an evil sorceress (Beth Champion) before the forest, then the world, is destroyed.

Gen-Xers will have a blast spotting nods to the films of their youth that have provided inspiration for Samuel’s first directorial effort, coming 41 years after she played Max’s wife Jessie in Dr. George Miller’s iconic 1979 actioner, Mad Max. The bickering besties are cast a little older, but they could be The Goonies, or its more fantastical offshoot, Explorers (both 1985). The creatures of the make-believe world (stunningly shot amongst Sydney’s Blue Mountains by DOP Casimir Dickson) recall Ridley Scott’s Legend (1985), Jim Henson’s Labyrinth (1986) and, more recently, Andrew Adamson’s The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005).

Where Samuel and McLeod most successfully stake their claim as strong, legitimate voices for the younger generation is in a sequence that takes their characters deep into a darkness where they must confront their own negative selves. The scene highlights teenage fears, jealousies, grief and insecurities in very real terms, utilising the fantasy setting as a means by which to conquer those forces that bear heavily on young minds and emotions. 

It is a bold narrative sidestep that adds resonance to a film that might have otherwise played too simplistically for the 13+ age bracket. As it stands, The Legend of The Five is solidly-packaged, all-ages Australian entertainment with strong international prospects.

THE LEGEND OF THE FIVE will play a limited Australian theatrical season from June 25; other territories to follow.

WHAT GOES AROUND

Stars: Catherine Morvell, Jesse Bouma, Gabrielle Pearson, Charles Jazz Terrier, Taylor Pearce, Aly Zhang, Maximilian Johnson and Ace Whitman.
Writer/Director: Sam Hamilton.

Currently available globally via Prime Video, Genflix and Vimeo on Demand.

Rating: ★ ★ ★

The cinematic DNA of ageing ensemble shockers Scream (1996) and I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997) is coursing through the bloody veins of Sam Hamilton’s What Goes Around. Hinting at the cyclical nature of the slasher movie fad from the title on down, this splattery, silly but undeniably entertaining reworking of shopworn stalk-&-stab tropes will wear some deep critical cuts but also prove a blast for audiences for whom the ‘90s is that distant decade in which their parents got married.

Aiming for a demographic smart enough to know its horror movie references but not so gratingly ironic as to dismiss them outright, Hamilton’s feature directing debut talks the talk to today’s 20-somethings - his cast drink a lot of coffee (and milkshakes), text all the time, converse (and dance) awkwardly at parties. Out front is Erin Macneil (the terrific Catherine Morvell, recalling Emily Blunt by way of Kerry Armstrong; pictured, top), a socially withdrawn film-school student who remains in touch with her bff, Rachel (Gabrielle Pearson). 

The ol’ high-school gang are also around, including tart-mouth stirrer Marnie (Ace Whitman), upwardly-mobile jerk Cameron (Charles Jazz Terrier), his doormat gf Cara (Aly Chang), and support players Jake (Taylor Pearce) and Tom (Maximilian Johnson), for whom these sort of movies never end particularly well.

Erin’s documentary-class crush is Alex Harrison (Jesse Bouma; pictured, above), the narrative’s ‘Skeet Ulrich’-type, who somewhat suspiciously leaves his laptop right where Erin can find it. Find it she does, and soon spying upon his private emails is she. Things turn ugly when Erin opens an email from ‘Snuff Boy’, and a brutal killing-video unfolds before her disbelieving eyes. As with even the best of this genre (throw in Urban Legend, Halloween H20, The Faculty, all the Scream and Summer sequels), the plot moves forward based upon one or more characters making bad choices; here, Erin ignores said snuff footage and allows herself to be wooed by Alex. 

As the bodies pile up and the group’s backstory comes into focus, Hamilton’s skill at moving his story along at a clip (the pic is a thankfully tight 78 mins) is appreciated; implausibilities are pushed aside and the cool stuff that slasher fans pine for moves centre-stage. The kills are staged with efficiency and build with intensity; come the final frames, nail-guns and hacksaws feel about right.

Bring a few grains of salt. The gruesome murders all take place in a middle-class Australian suburb with seemingly no police force; despite several bloody deaths amongst their core group and a cyber-crime component which places it under federal jurisdiction, no character is ever interrogated or seeks counselling. Things move pretty fast in slasher movies, rarely allowing for such affectations as mourning or police procedural work.

Not that the lack of such subtleties proves an anchor for What Goes Around, as Hamilton knows what makes the genre tick. The balance of charismatic performers, a bloody bodycount and the occasional wink to the audience in service of the mid-level mystery plot is what rejuvenated the slice-&-dice romp 25 years ago, and may do again.

What Goes Around | Official Trailer from Bounty Films on Vimeo.

HIDDEN ORCHARD MYSTERIES: THE CASE OF THE AIR B&B ROBBERY

Stars: Gabriella Pastore, Ja’ness Tate, Davey Moore, Vanessa Padla, Donovan Williams, Kim Akia, Hunter Bills, Diane D Carter, Camilla Elaine, Ole Goode, Kevin Robinson, Edward Pastore, Jaymee Vowell, Catarah Hampshire, Carlos Coleman and Orlando Cortez.
Writer/Director: Brian C. Shackelford

WORLD PREMIERE will be held online via CYA Live on Friday June 12 (7.00pm EDT)/Saturday June 13 (9.00am AET); tickets available here. Then from June 16 on platforms including iTunes, Vudu, Google Play, Xbox, Amazon, and FandangoNow.
 
Rating: ★ ★ ★

Two winning lead performances and the present-day reimagining of well-worn tropes go a long way to smoothing over some bumpy plotting in the family franchise kicker Hidden Orchard Mysteries: The Case of the Air B&B Robbery. As Gabby and Lulu, the tweenage besties whose sleuthing reveals an ugly underside in their well-to-do suburban life, Gabriella Pastore and Ja’ness Tate are wonderful; iGen Nancy Drews dealing with the weird adults around them as best they can.

Behind the manicured lawns and upmarket homes of the middle-class American world that is Hidden Orchard, where investment in the rented residential space of the title is the hot new thing, a break-and-enter rattles the population. Gabby and Lulu see an opportunity to spark their vacation time and set about solving the crime, allowing them to peer inside the lives of their neighbours. 

What unfolds is ‘Teen Mystery 101’, de rigueur for fans of young detective staples such as The Hardy Boys or Harriet the Spy. Director Brian C. Shackelford helms competently in a manner suited for the small-screen, though is let down by wavering tonal shifts in his script (working from a story by Joyce Fitzpatrick). His lead actresses have a lovely, natural chemistry and their time on-screen is the film’s greatest asset. However, support players range from broad ‘sitcom schtick’ (Carlos Coleman and Catarah Hampshire, as the local cupcake retailers, hit OTT heights rarely seen outside of The Disney Channel) to Scooby-Doo villainy (“I would’ve got away with it if not for you meddling kids!”) and all points in between.

Most interesting are the contemporary flourishes that are clearly an effort to bring the traditional ‘teen mystery’ narrative into 2020 (and may push the film into 13+ censorship brackets in some territories). Rarely in even her most daring adventures did the Nancy Drew of old have to deal with a weed-growing mom-next-door; a gun-wielding, tough-talking baddy; extramarital liaisons (don’t worry, mums and dads, it’s all off-screen); or, most diabolically, a shady insurance executive’s pitch presentation. 

The film’s best real-world drama happens between Gabriella Pastore and Camilla Elaine as her stepmom, Cynthia, as they struggle to deal with their new relationship. While Lulu is all sugar’n’spice, Gabby is a child of divorce and has a slightly jaded world view. Pastore and Tate find a nuanced truthfulness in their girl-power bond that conveys a particularly strong kinship; their friendship feels sturdy enough to survive whatever their broadening experience offers up, and then well into adulthood. 

To the production’s credit, Shackelford populates Hidden Orchard with a culturally diverse group, even if some border on caricature (Orlando Cortez’s Hispanic gardener; Jaymee Vowell’s screechy redhead busy-body). The June 12 premiere of the film will coincide with the ongoing #BLM protests in many U.S. states, giving added and unexpected weight to a line spoken by white Police Chief Wellar (Corey J. Grant). In a moment of contrition, he states, “Maybe my way is not always the best way.” The ‘teen detective’ narrative is an old one, but The Case of the Air B&B, from its title on down, is a very up-to-date reworking.

BEING GAVIN

Stars: Jamie Oxenbould, Catherine Moore, Kate Raison, Ed Oxenbould, Brian Meegan and Ray Meagher.
Writers: Mark Kilmurry and Sara Bovolenta.
Director: Owen Elliott and Mark Kilmurry.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

Back before superheroes and their teen fanbase ruled the box office, studios made movies for grown-ups. Names like George Segal and Walther Matthau and Dudley Moore starred in movies about marriage, infidelity and midlife crises that were funny, sad and smart. They stopped making them when the star system faded and the audience grew younger, despite being box office gold and Oscar friendly in their heyday.

Being Gavin harkens back to films like Cactus Flower (1969, with Matthau), A Touch of Class (1973, with Segal) and 10 (1979, with Moore), in which comfortably married, middle-class husbands complicate their lives by taking vibrant young lovers who complicate arrangements by falling in love. Directors Owen Elliott (helming his first feature since the acclaimed Bathing Franky in 2012) and Mark Kilmurry have crafted a contemporary, re-energised spin on a genre most considered dated, even moribund.

The titular ‘Gavin’ is the owner of a struggling cafe inherited from his ageing father (Ray Meagher). His life changes one morning when, like a personality whirlwind, struggling singer Samantha (a lovably boisterous Catherine Moore) presents herself as the life force that Gavin didn’t know he needed. Despite their wildly divergent individualism (a genre trope, to be fair) and his patchy bedroom skills, Gavin and Samantha bond with promise of much loveliness to come.

But the co-directors have a second-act twist that puts pressure on both the lovebirds and his narrative. Gavin is in a 22-year marriage, not to some some shrill ballbreaker as might have been the case four decades ago when the genre was soaring, but to Elaine (Kate Raison), a caring wife and mother, successful professional and totally undeserving of the grief that Gavin’s actions make inevitable. As Gavin’s actions become comically frantic, and with his life twisting in on itself through his lack of responsibility and awareness, Being Gavin takes on a somewhat bittersweet trajectory; things aren’t going to end well for anyone, but let’s hope it’ll be fun getting there anyway.

Gavin is played by Jamie Oxenbould, a likable journeyman actor who has earned his leading man status after decades as a respected ensemble player. He has some lovely scenes opposite his real-life son Ed Oxenbould (Paper Planes, 2014; The Visit, 2015) who plays surly teen Josh. Notably, Oxenbould Snr. channels that other significant figure of the 'reluctant philanderer' genre, Woody Allen, with a performance that mirrors the comedian's breathy delivery and nervous energy. 

The directing team also takes cues from Allen's late ‘80s oeuvre, films such as Hannah and Her Sisters (1986), Another Woman (1988), Crimes and Misdemeanours (1989) and Husbands and Wives (1992); works that tackled similar themes and revealed the maturing of the Oscar winner as an insightful observer of human foibles. There is further evidence of Elliott's and Kilmurry's fondness for Allen’s classics, with a shot of fireworks against Sydney’s skyline a homage to Manhattan (1979) and the use of Allen’s iconic Windsor Light credit font.        

If the first-act meet-cute machinations feel pitched a bit high, the dramatic developments and satisfying denouement provide Gavin’s re-emergence with a heartfelt honesty. Just as importantly, the film honours Elaine and Samantha in its truthful depiction of how they love, cope with and ultimately rise above Gavin’s flaws. Being Gavin grows wiser and smarter in line with its protagonist, shifting from fidgety shallowness to self-aware maturity in a narrative arc as wholly refreshing as it is delightfully old-fashioned.

Photo credits: 76 Pictures Pty. Ltd.

MY YEAR OF LIVING MINDFULLY

Featuring: Shannon Harvey, Neil Bailey, Amit Bernstein, Judson Brewer, Willoughby Britton, Vidyamala Burch, Nicholas Cherbuin, Richard Davidson, Gaelle Desbordes, Elissa Epel, Anna Finniss, Timothea Goddard, Daniel Goleman, Dan Harris, Craig Hassed, Amishi Jha, Willem Kuyken, Marc Longster, Kimina Lyall, Kristen Neff, Hilda Pickett, Matthieu Ricard, Mogoas Kidane Tewelde, Nicholas Van Dam, Marc Wilkins and Jon Kabat-Zinn.
Writers/Directors: Shannon Harvey and Julian Harvey.

Available to watch FREE at the My Year of Living Mindfully website until June 3. Also available for pre-order on digital and DVD.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

“[Mindfulness is] the awareness that arises from paying attention, on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgmentally.” - Jon Kabat-Zinn, PhD; Professor Emeritus at University of Massachusetts. 

Undertaking a kind of Super Size Me for the psyche, journalist/filmmaker Shannon Harvey puts her body and mind on the line in the name of mental health science in My Year of Living Mindfully. Diving deep into the layered application of meditative practices as a healing tool, the award-winning health sector scribe chronicles just how effective centering her consciousness to combat physiological and psychological ailments can be.

A sequel-of-sorts to her 2014 mind-and-body doc The Connection, Harvey opens up about the growing toll that a combination of modern living (stress, insomnia) and ages-old afflictions (lupus) is having on her dangerously imbalanced inner-self. From that starting point, she begins her investigation of and complete immersion within the use of meditative mindfulness, seeking out the professors, practitioners and proven beneficiaries for whom the determined restructuring of one’s focus through concentration has been life-changing.

As a front-person for this journey of self-discovery, Harvey is an engaging protagonist, owning personal doubt in her ability to apply herself to the yearlong commitment and not hiding her own insecurities as her treatment demands introspection (husband and co-director Julian Harvey remains mostly off-screen, but admirably supportive). She also exhibits her award-winning skills as a journalist, with increasingly complex academic theorising from the many leaders in the field at her disposal presented with clarity.

The most profoundly human of the on-screen stories are those Harvey uncovers within her ‘case study’ subplots (of which she is the final subject). After many years as a warzone reporter and dealing with subsequent mental scars by self-medication, TV news presenter Dan Harris had an on-air breakdown in 2004; with her whole life ahead of her, Vidyamala Burch became a paraplegic after a car accident, aged just 24. Both relate the stark horrors their lives presented to them and the recovery process that eastern philosophies and meditative mindfulness inspired.

After 70-odd minutes of pristine hospital rooms, university halls and leafy Sydney surrounds (at one point, we accompany Harvey on a 10-day bush retreat), my nagging skepticism that ‘mindfulness’ was another wealthy white-person privilege grew louder. Almost on cue, Harvey addresses just such concerns with the production wisely shifting the third act to a Middle East refugee camp to gauge the impact of meditation on some of the most emotionally damaged humans on the planet. 

It is a decision that speaks to the deeply existential endeavour at the core of the mindfulness movement. While the science-based medical/sociological studies presented are fascinating and crucial to understanding meditative consciousness, My Year of Living Mindfully is ultimately about how effectively it has and can, with increasing knowledge of its benefits, serve all mankind in the face of the mental illness epidemic gripping the planet.

100% WOLF

Voice cast: Ilai Swindells, Jai Courtenay, Samara Weaving, Magda Szubanski, Rhys Darby, Akmal Saleh and Jane Lynch.
Writer: Fin Edquist; based upon the novel by Jayne Lyons.
Director: Alexs Stadermann

Available to rent in Australia from 29 May on Foxtel, Fetch, Apple, Google Play, Sony PlayStation and Microsoft Xbox.

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

The frantic, funny, family-friendly animated energy that powered the likes of Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs and Hotel Transylvania to global box office heights ought to earn 100% Wolf a similar number of eyeballs when word spreads what a cracking piece of all-age entertainment it is.

Adapted from the bestselling 2009 YA-fantasy novel by expat British author Jayne Lyons, director Alexs Stadermann and scripter Fin Edquist (reteaming after the success of 2014’s Maya the Bee Movie) pitch the excitement level high from the first frames. A pack of werewolves bound over moonlit rooftops (recalling the artful imagery of Bibo Bergeron’s A Monster in Paris), before rescuing humans from a burning house. Along for the adventure in preparation for his transformation from human boy to teen wolf is Freddy Lupin (Ilai Swindells), son of the clan’s ruling high-howler Flasheart (Jai Courtney), a position that Freddy is predestined to fulfil.

Six years later, the night of his first ‘transwolftation’ is an embarrassing disaster; in a whirl of supernatural mist, Freddy transforms not into a snarling lycanthrope but instead a fluffy white poodle. Banished from werewolf society, he befriends street-tough mutt Batty (Samara Weaving) and becomes entwined in a good-vs-evil battle, pitting him and his unlikely dog-friends against villainess The Commander (US import Jane Lynch) and his own family black sheep, Uncle Hotspur (Rupert Degas, putting his spin on Jeremy Iron's intonations in The Lion King, which this film occasionally recalls). Also in the narrative mix are book favourites Harriet and Chariot, aka Freddy’s terrible cousins (Adriane Daff and Liam Graham, respectively) and wolf hunter Foxwell Cripp (Rhys Darby, lightening up the central bad guy of Lyon’s book).

The clear subtext in both the book and film is one of accepting that which makes us unique, of celebrating the individual. Metaphorically, Freddy is faced with a struggle against both his family’s expectations and his changing body, a universal conundrum for pre-teens. Double-down on the symbolism of his appearance (that shock of very pink hair) and overt non-alignment with gender stereotypes and our hero, and his movie, prove far more fearless than they might first appear. Parents, older siblings and enlightened tots will appreciate the character depth in the midst of all the frenetic slapstick, staged with giddy efficiency by Stadermann and his top-tier contributors.

Backed by the Oz sector’s governing body Screen Australia, with state-based financiers Screenwest and Create NSW on board, and produced by leading animation outfit Flying Bark Productions with the help of post-production house Siamese, 100% Wolf has a pedigree that demands international exposure. Already a hot literary property, the feature will go into German-speaking territories via distribution giant Constantin Film, while 26 short-form Freddy Lupin adventures are being co-produced by Australian Broadcasting Corporation and Germany’s Super RTL; in January, a vast merchandising line was introduced at the International Toy Fair.

That is a lot of responsibility being placed upon the fluffy poodle-shoulders of our protagonist. But, as 100% Wolf teaches us in the midst of a lot of giggly fun and colourful adventure, when given the opportunity to defy expectations and choose your own path in life, anything is possible.

EXORCISM AT 60,000 FEET

Stars: Robert Miano, Bai Ling, Bill Moseley, Lance Henriksen, Kevin J. O’Connor, Robert Rhine, Kyle Jones, Silvia Spross, Kelli Maroney, Matthew Moy and Adrienne Barbeau.
Writers: Robert Rhine and Daniel Benton.
Director: Chad Ferrin.

Rating: ★ ★

The premise of Exorcism at 60,000 Feet reads like the opening to an inappropriate gag your drunk uncle barks out at Thanksgiving dinner. “Did you hear the one about the priest, the rabbi, and the dwarf on a flight to VietNam…,” it begins and, before any of your relatives can wrestle the sad, sick family jester to the ground, he screams and spits his way through a waffling, weird, wildly offensive mess of a joke.

In genre-speak, Exorcism at 60,000 Feet is that most dangerous meld of film types - the horror-comedy, which implies a measured balance of chills and giggles. Director Chad Ferrin, who impressed a few years back with the bloody urban thriller Parasites, doesn’t nail either horror or comedy with any degree of inspiration or skill. With co-writers Robert Rhine and Daniel Benton having to share some of the blame, Ferrin pitches for Airplane-meets-The Exorcist, but crash lands well short of the destination.

Like a lot of good comedies, Exorcism at 60,000 Feet opens on the mass murder of a family. Robert Miano plays hardened padre Father Romero, who arrives too late to save the deceased but just in time to identify the evil entity as ‘Garvin’, the resurrected spirit of his army buddy from ‘Nam. For some reason, he needs to return Garvin to VietNam, booking passage on the ‘hilariously’ titled Viet Kong Airways, the offensive moniker only made worse by its anachronism - will the target audience of first-time pot-smokers even know what is being referenced?

On board, the spirit of Garvin (played in terrible make-up by B-movie icon, Bill Mosely) is possessing the passengers, each one a grossly painted caricature of such wannabe comic stereotypes as the roided-up bodybuilder (Luca Pennazzato); the middle Eastern ‘potential terrorist’ (Gino Salvano); the peace-seeking Buddhist (Craig Ng); the anytime/anywhere sexpot (Stefanie Peti); the other anytime/anywhere sexpot (Jin N. Tonic, who shows some comedy chops); and, the Soprano-esque goombah (Johnny Williams). Most unforgivably tasteless is the ‘Mommy with toddler’ passengers, featuring Kelli Maroney (cult favourite from 1984’s Night of the Comet) as the mature-age woman who breastfeeds her obnoxious son Dukie, played by little person actor, Sammy the Dwarf.

Romero teams with orthodox rabbi Larry Feldman (co-scripter Rhine) and the flight crew, Amanda (Bai Ling, playing to the back row) and Thang (an occasionally funny Matthew Moy), to battle the demon, which manifests as a cheap-as-chips ‘green mist’. Garvin’s victims suffer ugly fates to remind the audience this is a ‘horror film’ - clean-cut Brad (Kyle Jones) meets a grisly end while ‘mile high’ clubbing; phone-obsessed millennial Ms Tang (Jolie Chi) must deal with an unwanted demon-pregnancy; and so on. Ferrin earns points for securing the likes of Lance Henriksen (as Captain Houdee...geddit?) and Adrienne Barbeau (pictured, above) for day-shoots, but their involvement is wasted on parts that prove just what good sports they are willing to be to pay some bills. 

The influence of the Zucker-Abrahams 1980 classic is everywhere, most notably in composer Richard Band’s shameless rip-off of Elmer Bernstein’s classic score, but there’s none of the comic pacing or inspired performances that made Airplane so memorable (or The Naked Gun series, which Ferrin also apes). Instead, the humour is of the ‘punch down’ variety - easy, ugly potshots based on race, gender or religion - placing Exorcism at 60,000 Feet dangerously close to the shock comedy stylings of a film like Uwe Boll’s Postal (2007).

That said, praise is certainly due cinematographer Christian Janss, who skilfully mimics the frantic camera moves George Miller employed in his Twilight Zone The Movie episode, ‘Nightmare at 20,000 Feet’, and the effects team working under Joe Castro and Maricela Lazcano, who give exteriors shots of the plane careening through an otherworldly night sky legitimate authenticity. 

CRACKED UP

Featuring: Darrell Hammond.
Director: Michelle Esrick

DARRELL HAMMOND, director MICHELLE ESRICK and BESSEL VAN DER KOLK, author of the book 'The Body Keeps the Score' will be present for a live ZOOM Webinar on Monday May 4th at 4.00pm PST/7.00pm EDT, hosted by ACES CONNECTION founder Jane Stevens.
For further details and free registration, CLICK HERE. 

Available on:

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ★

For 14 years, Saturday Night Live star Darrell Hammond was the chameleon of late night comedy, the toast of political satire. His array of on-air impersonations, 118 in all by his own reckoning, mimicking the likes of Bill Clinton, Sean Connery and Al Gore, made him Lorne Michael’s go-to guy for big laughs and one of the series’ most celebrated cast members. 

As with many of the great comedic talents, Hammond’s talent was borne of hardship, as the comic himself chronicled in his 2011 memoir, ‘God, If You're Not Up There, I'm F*cked’. Director Michelle Esrick takes Hammond’s heartbreakingly open account of life as a survivor of child abuse and crafts a profile of an artist that goes far beyond what is expected of the ‘What makes comics tick?’ genre. Cracked Up is an artful, insightful, deeply thoughtful documentary that reveals not just how Hammond came to terms with his past but how it has helped him forge a new, meaningful direction that serves to heal fellow mental injury sufferers.

Framed by the ongoing evolution of his own creative process (the comic is rehearsing a one-man show with director Chris Ashley), Esrick’s camera follows Hammond as he returns to his childhood home in Wisteria Lane, Florida. In small increments, we learn of the extent to which the pre-teen Hammond was assaulted by his mother in a home he shared with a PTSD-suffering father. His first-person recollections of the abuse and his piecemeal memories of the attacks prove gruelling for both Hammond (who occasionally breaks down) and the audience, who should take heed that some of the details are particularly horrendous.

Cracked Up is a work that delicately balances the most profound aspects of Hammond’s suffering with the journey he underwent to recover from it. At the height of his fame on SNL, he was in the grip of self-medicating with dangerous levels of alcohol; his pain was so internalised, he would function as a performer even while cutting his own flesh, as many as 49 times. His suffering became so pronounced, friends such as SNL producers Lorne Michaels and Steve Higgins stepped in, leading to Hammond’s year-long stint in a mental health facility.

Esrick’s most compelling directorial ploy, aside from the forthright honesty she elicits from Hammond, is the plotting she employs based on the comic’s own colour-based impersonation methods (Porky Pig is yellow; Popeye is blue). Of the hundreds of voices in his head, none are represented by the colour red; the life-changing meaning behind this development and the healing moment it allows Hammond spins the film from the tragic trajectory of childhood trauma into the first steps of healing and acceptance.

For a man renowned for capturing the essence of other men, Darrell Hammond bares his scarred but healing soul like few ever have for the camera. He rarely falls back on his remarkable talent to paint over his pain and when he does, it is such a sadly bittersweet experience that it gives a fresh depth to the relationship he has with his gift. Cracked Up sheds Hammond of the barrier of celebrity he built up and hid behind for all of his adult life. 

Addressing a roomful of fellow mental health sufferers and trauma survivors, he is adored not for doing his ‘Bill Clinton’ but for revealing his ‘Darrell Hammond’. As the final frames of Michelle Esrick’s superb film reinforce, children are sharing the comic’s suffering in any house on any street right now. With Cracked Up, Hammond is only doing what he hoped someone might have done when he was a child - speaking up. 

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE FIFTH KIND

Featuring: Steven M. Greer
Narrated by Jeremy Piven.
Writer/director: Michael Mazzola

AVAILABLE ON:

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ½

So you’re deep into today’s iso-skimming session on your preferred streaming platform and you happen upon Close Encounters of the Fifth Kind, the latest speculative-doco from UFO theoretician Steven Greer. You’ll have a look because...y’know, UFO stuff is pretty cool, and much of what makes ‘UFO stuff’ cool is certainly in the mix. Greer’s offsider, filmmaker Micahel Mazzola, has collated all manner of unexplainable points of light glimpsed by shaky-cam; woodlands lit by physics-defying ‘golden orbs’; and, incredulous accounts of bewildered pilots, trying to fathom the black-&-white footage from their cockpit cams.

But Greer, the movement’s opinion-dividing frontman (is he this generation’s Carl Sagan or a new-age P.T. Barnum?), claims to be at such an advanced communicative juncture with beings from beyond that his third feature documentary assumes that they not only walk among us but, if we invite them nicely, they’ll join us around a campfire. This head-first plunge into the maybe-world of extraterrestrial co-existence occasionally hurtles mesmerically into next-level conspiracy theorising, but there is undeniably plenty to mutter “Damn, I knew it!” about for those who want to believe.

The ‘Fifth Kind’ of close encounter (or ‘CE5’) involves the most spiritually enlightened amongst us reaching out with pure thoughts and kindly hearts to the occupants of interplanetary/transdimensional craft and beckoning them to our realm. A combination of Greer’s skill with the anecdote, a bevy of highly-credentialed talking heads and footage of CE5 disciples across the world staring longingly skywards build to a crescendo (and website/app plug) that feels legitimate. Single frames of ‘light beings’ walking amongst remote gatherings of believers and conjecture that these entities travel through portals to appear in our skies instantaneously is fascinating, but non-believers are likely to dig in over such claims.

It is on this point that Greer spins some of the uglier theorising inherent to his point of view. Close Encounters of the Fifth Kind posits that Joe Public has been sold a deceptive narrative by a covert government/mainstream news media/entertainment industry cooperative for the last 60 years. Mazzola uses clips from Mars Attacks, Predator, Men in Black and the Twilight Zone episode ‘To Serve Man’, to drill home the notion that the images fed to us are meant inspire fear in alien contact. Blame is placed at society’s feet for its blind subjugation to the 'lies' spun to us; an accusatory stance that states, ‘If you believe the establishment, you are part of the problem’. The hard-sell meanness of such an approach will turn the inquisitive away far quicker than harmless pseudo-science and new-agey spiritualism.

Whether he is a channeller of profound consciousness or a pitchman par excellence (most likely, a bit of both), Greer knows how to produce a speculative documentary that takes hold of the viewer and refuses to let go (for a whopping two hours, no less). The craft he and Mazzola employ to keep hearts and minds engaged even while eyeballs are heading backwards is often remarkable. Close Encounters of the Fifth Kind won’t make you believe any more than you do, nor will it spin too many sceptics 180°, but it will help us understand the complexity of a different set of beliefs.