I can't really say it was too big a surprise - in fact, this was one of the most unsurprising Oscars, ever - but Danny Boyle's Indian epic has been given the official nod from the Academy, securing it another horde of eager movie-goers. Which is lovely, because it's a well-deserving film, with much to offer, and quite left-of-centre for a mainstream box office bonanza. Amazing, considering how awful his last film, Sunshine, was; but there you go, just goes to show that great artists can come back from the occasional glitch. A perfect time, then, to hear from the man himself, director Danny Boyle, for those who missed my original interview...
Yesterday, I officially reached breaking point on Baz Lurhmann's fund-sucking vampire of a would-be blockbuster that has turned out to be (as I told anyone who would listen that it would be) a complete disaster. Let us never mention its title again. Well, okay, fair enough - let us never mention the title in reference to it being the title of that atrocious film I've already moved on from. Anyway, by today, I was more than ready to find something wonderful; something small, perhaps, but big on mind, or heart, or maybe just some good old narcissistic, vicarious self-indulgence through somebody else's story. How nice it was, just a few short hours ago, to actually find it; and how equally wonderful, that it comes from Australia (that's the country - not the movie we shall never mention again). Where it sits, between those three elements, is arguable. It's clever, yes. It has an awful lot of heart, making it awfully affecting. And (oh, alright) it's ultimately a tale of the artist who walks on the tightrope of genius and insecurity, facing that awful crisis of making it and... well... not making it. Yes, yes, that means there was probably a little bit of narcissistic projection going on, on my part. But, whatever. The movie is brand new Aussie documentary, Rock N Roll Nerd, centered around a comedic star you probably know (if not by name, then by sight), Tim Minchin. And I loved it.
This week, as part of my radio work, I will be attending a press screening of Baz Luhman's Australia. That is, of course, if the publicist doesn't read this review, first. On Wednesday, I shall tell Sydney what I think of the film everyone wants to know what everyone else thinks of it. Alas, I was not invited to the absurd red carpet event that clogged both our city and our television waves (underground indie reviewers are of little concern to this mammoth machine), but yes, I shall get to sit in a little screening room and drink free champagne; and, all the while, a publicist will smile with what is by now a media expectation: that I will do my little bit for my country - or, more to the point, its tourism and film industries - and give a glowing review of what, from all accounts, is shaping up to be a terminally dull, terminally long, road to nowhere. This, therefore, is not a review of the actual film. But as the real ones start to roll out, I thought I'd acknowledge the phenomenon for what it is, and review not the movie, but the actual thing most of us are currently experiencing - to death: its marketing. You're probably as sick of it as I am, but it's worth looking at what has been a fascinating tale of the most contemporary corporate culture we now live in. What's the actual quality of the film got to do with any of it? Nothing, really. Let's consider why.
FILM & LIT 
I can't really say it was too big a surprise - in fact, this was one of the most unsurprising Oscars, ever - but Danny Boyle's Indian epic has been given the official nod from the Academy, securing it another horde of eager movie-goers. Which is lovely, because it's a well-deserving film, with much to offer, and quite left-of-centre for a mainstream box office bonanza. Amazing, considering how awful his last film, Sunshine, was; but there you go, just goes to show that great artists can come back from the occasional glitch. A perfect time, then, to hear from the man himself, director Danny Boyle, for those who missed my original interview... 
This week, as part of my radio work, I will be attending a press screening of Baz Luhman's Australia. That is, of course, if the publicist doesn't read this review, first. On Wednesday, I shall tell Sydney what I think of the film everyone wants to know what everyone else thinks of it. Alas, I was not invited to the absurd red carpet event that clogged both our city and our television waves (underground indie reviewers are of little concern to this mammoth machine), but yes, I shall get to sit in a little screening room and drink free champagne; and, all the while, a publicist will smile with what is by now a media expectation: that I will do my little bit for my country - or, more to the point, its tourism and film industries - and give a glowing review of what, from all accounts, is shaping up to be a terminally dull, terminally long, road to nowhere. This, therefore, is not a review of the actual film. But as the real ones start to roll out, I thought I'd acknowledge the phenomenon for what it is, and review not the movie, but the actual thing most of us are currently experiencing - to death: its marketing. You're probably as sick of it as I am, but it's worth looking at what has been a fascinating tale of the most contemporary corporate culture we now live in. What's the actual quality of the film got to do with any of it? Nothing, really. Let's consider why. 
