My 19 year old brother, Glenn, lives in a distant galaxy from me, on a planet called Regional Suburbia. He likes football, easy girls and fast cars. His favourite film is The Fast & The Furious; he calls it "wicked shit." It would never have dawned on me, it goes without saying, to peruse my brother's DVD collection. I knew it would be large, and I knew it would have been entirely purchased at JB Hifi; I know probably more than I should about Revolution Plasma and its disturbing power to appeal to the working and middle classes, and replace what would once have been their lives; draining whatever connection to the real world they had, by offering their unconscious longing to escape, a glistening, mostly poisonous, apple. Here, everybody! Plug into this - you'll find it... easier. You will have a purpose. You will own that 42" plasma, even if you fuck yourself up on credit to do it, and you will build thyself a DVD Tower. There, thy shall easily access The Fast & The Furious; it shall keep the company of Face Off, Rush Hour, the Terminator Trilogy and, but of course, the Die Hard Box Set. Got plasma? check. Got plasma tower? Check. Okay, then, you're all set to waste a good deal of your life plugged right into consumer oblivion. Isn't modernity just fabulous?!

 

I only neared my brother's DVD tower, out of that familiar desperation to escape the reality of my awkward bi-monthly family visit. Somewhere, in between the time your mother has once again implicitly let it be known you've not amounted to what you should have, and the moment following eight meaningless remarks about the state of recent weather, you look around the room, and you think, quite simply, "What can I do, here, to pass the time without having to sincerely engage my family?" My brother's DVD tower seemed like a pretty good idea. 

 

He insisted he accompany me on my perusal; not because he saw an opportunity to forge a bonding moment with his older brother, but because those DVDs were simply too precious to be vulnerable away from the watchful eye of their keeper. It was, therefore, a little more awkward than I intended, but it did, at least, give me somewhere else to focus my gaze.

 

"Fast & The Furious: Special Collector's Edition", I sigh.

 

"Yep," he mumbles. My brother speaks in a tone that has left many of my city friends having no idea what this boy has just communicated to them; but I understand bogan speak. I understand bogans. I know how they think. I know, because I was, after all, supposed to be one. I stuck my nose up at destiny, and I simply refused to be white trash. But for eighteen years, they did what they could with me - parented me, educated me, punished me, tried to deal with something it just couldn't understand. They could never understand me, the bogans I grew up with. But I understood them. I had to, in order to survive. And, for all intents and purposes, I sympathise with them. To a point. I don't want to live with them, no. But if I was to truly appreciate my family - and I do - I could never subscribe to inner city elitism and contempt. In so many ways, I think this has served me well.

 

My index finger brushes, slowly, killing as much time as possible, down a trail of DVD jackets: movies I have not seen, nor would want to. There's a part of me that thinks, "Oh, Aaron, you're so pretentious", and a part of me that wants to remind my brother that I really enjoyed Harry Potter at Imax (regardless of how much this had to do with being so stoned in front of a ten story screen), and gee, I mean, doesn't that prove how DTE I am?  But, of course, he wouldn't know why I was bothering to disclaim myself, anyway - or, alternatively, persecute with such an inner city arrogance. So culturally isolated is my Glenn, he knows not of the argument against his mind, for he has - with the exception of his brother - never come across it.

 

"Have you seen Scary Movie?" he asks. "It's sick. You should see it."

 

"I don't think so," I murmured quietly (and, no doubt, pretentiously).

And then, something leaped out at me. I think it was in between Saw IV and Jackass 2, and it seemed to be grossly out of place in my brother's DVD tower.

"Super Size Me?" I asked. 

 

Admittedly, I had not seen Super Size Me; but if anyone was to place a bet on which of the Darc boys had this doco in their DVD tower, you can rest assured most would put their money on that weird one that lives in Newtown. But, in truth, I'd never bothered with it, because, at the end of the day, I don't need a two hour film to give me any more reasons not to eat McDonald's. I don't, and I never will; my happy meals are a memory of my childhood I have accepted will never again be tasted.

 

However, I admired the phenomenon the film had become - particularly, from within the marketing industry I was, at that time, a part of, where its impact was undeniable. That film was the ultimate PR nightmare. I loved it for this, alone; I didn't care what it was actually like. Its cultural influence was so vivid, I would go as far as calling its impact "quantifiable" - something most "social crusade" docos cannot say about their effect. McDonald's, the film's iconic target, poured millions of their dirty, dirty cash into countering the arguments in - well, der - completely over the top advertising campaigns, designed to lull its hungry believers into dismissing Spurlock as yet another crazy Lefty with a chip on his shoulder. Beyond even this impressive feat, I would go as far as crediting it with the changes that have occurred, in recent years, in both its menus and, yes, its branding. I didn't need to see it - this movie rocked.

 

But whatever was it doing in my brother's DVD tower? Why would an 18 year old bogan footballer from Maitland think it rocked? My brother is many things - some of these, I love him for - but political or, heaven forbid, "socially conscious", is something I've never used to describe him.

 

Glenn sums up his fondness for the movie, thus: "He eats nothin' but Macca's, and he ends up gettin' fat and nearly killing himself! It's fully sick," he beamed in sweet remembrance of Morgan Spurlock's daring act. "He's crazy," he added, in that strange code of ocher masculinity that values men stupid enough to inflict self-harm for the sake of a show. It was amazing, and it would never have dawned on me: the boys loved Super Size Me, in the same consumer mindset that led them to froth at the mouth over the Jackass films.

 

My brother had sat down for that DVD, having absolutely no interest, whatsoever, in learning the horrible truth behind the deadly propaganda of one of the most vile multinationals on Earth. Whatever, dude. He just thought that some guy screwing his system with junk food was "fully sick". But, in the process, he learned a truth about one of the most vile multinationals on Earth. 

 

"Do you eat McDonald's?" I asked him, interested as to the impact of the film's actual message.

 

"Na," he screwed his face up, "It's garbage. You should see what it's really like - they just lie through their teeth. It's hysterical, you should watch it."

 

And, sure, he then went on to tell me that now, having seen the light of McDonald's propaganda, he instead eats... yes... KFC ("And Hungry Jacks, if I really feel like a hamburger," he added; "The burgers are better"). Still, he had responded affirmatively to the message of this film - it had gone so far as to change one of his behaviours. I think that's... well... fully sick.

 

What I admired, from this point on, in Super Size Me, was its branding genius. It fought fire with fire. It spoke to those under the spell, in a language those under the spell could actually understand and, even more, enjoy engaging. There was an actual communication that went on with exactly the kind of people who needed communicating to. How much contemporary left-wing media does that, do you think? Not much, I'd say.

 

Had Morgan Spurlock one-upped the Holy Michael Moore? Interestingly enough, Spurlock, upon our meeting, would remind me of the vast difference in the success of his films, in comparison to the powerhouse performance of Fahrenheit 9/11 - however successful Super Size Me was, it pales in comparison to Moore's infamous swipe at Dubya Bush. All very well; in today's pop culture, bums on seats don't necessarily correlate with social impact. I couldn't help but wonder if Spurlock admired the success of Fahrenheit, because he had enough of an ego to envy the size of Moore's popstar spotlight (and, sure, the kaching that happens, as result of that spotlight). But, even so, I personally believe that Spurlock has the right to boast of being responsible for the film, in this latest trend of left-wing pop culture docos, that has actually had the most impact on its intended audience, and on the actual issue it addresses. I'm sure Sprulock likes a big spotlight; but I sensed a man who has enough passion in his causes, that this feat would mean something to him, as well.

 

I declined watching my brother's DVD, that day, because, really, the point was the actual search. What, you think I'm going to lock myself in for 2 hours on the lounge with my family? Um... no. I would finally see the film, not too long ago, on mainstream primetime TV. And, yes, it didn't do a great deal for me - as I had expected. McDonald's is bad for you. Yep. That's right. But I was impressed that I could "happen" to accidentally catch this film on primetime TV, spliced with cheesy ads for dodgy gym equipment, Coca-Cola and credit card scams. Through their plasmas, Spurlock found them. They happily plugged in. The man deserves credit for that.

 

Last weekend, I was asked to interview Spurlock, in regards to his latest film, Where In The World Is Osama Bin Laden? Naturally, I agreed.

 

First, I had to see the film. I was shown a screener DVD at the distributor's headquarters (do you know how difficult bittorrent has made a movie reviewer's life? They certainly don't hand out the DVD's, anymore), and for 90 minutes, I trailed along with Spurlock, throughout all the major regions and countries of The Middle East, to find Osama Bin Laden. Well, okay - naturally, Spurlock doesn't have a hope in hell in actually finding the guy; despite its clever (obvious) PR drool, it was always clearly just a clever subtext for... gosh... an ironic and profound discovery, etc, etc.

 

What Spurlock discovers, as he treks through the Middle East, is that the world, culture and lives that he, as a modern American, has been led to believe is a certain way - the demonisation of Islaam - are, in fact, not so different to You & Me™. "Oh my God," this all-American guy realises; "I've been lied to! Let's all transcend the propaganda of our governments and make a better world for our children! Heal the world, and stuff. Let's make it a better race. You know, for You™, and Me™, and, like, the entire Human Race™!"

 

It's brilliant. Yes, yes, it's all terribly obvious to many of us, in a context like this website. But the pitch is a fucking killer. I asked Spurlock if he had come across any resistance, when getting the idea off the ground, because it seemed like an obvious question. But, when he told me that he had, in fact, had very little , I thought it perfectly believable. If I was a rich man looking for a new left-wing pop culture doco to make a killing, I'd walk out of his pitch, tres impressed.

 

And, surely, I'm being obvious, too, right? You know where I'm getting at for any of you lefties, out there, reading this? It comes down to something we have discussed a lot, here, and a topic particularly relevant to my time as The Eye, turning analytic attention to one of the worst shows on television. These films, like so many contemporary left-wing products, present themselves as agents of social change. On the whole, the lefties (perhaps, quite naively) buy into the idea (as it is sold to them, mind you) that they are. Yes, some of those films - mainly Moore's - made a tonne of cash, but it usually comes from the pockets of those who walk in to those films, already agreeing with the argument. I'm sorry, I just don't see the point. Enjoy them as the cultural manifestation of your subculture and mindset; but don't fool yourself into thinking anyone on the right is actually listening to Michael Moore. They're not. His ego is proportionate only to the size of his spotlight - not the changes he has made to this world. He empowered and strengthened the left, most certainly - and that's not a bad thing, as such - but he didn't really change anyone's minds. 

 

"Do you like Michael Moore?" I asked my brother.

 

He screwed his face up, as if to question the seriousness with which I could pose him a question with such an obvious answer. "That fat panzy? He's a fucking loser."

 

Michael Moore, perhaps by his own nature, doesn't really deliver the message to those who most need it. Morgan Spurlock, however, has proved that he can. The question is, can he do it, the second time round? Does the experience of Where In The World Is Osama Bin Laden fully realise the brilliance of the concept and pitch? 

 

At first, a quick google search turned up an apparent answer: no. The movie, now having finished its US theatrical release, pulled in just on $250,000 (US). Super Size Me pulled 11 million. The reviews didn't offer much more hope: Super Size Me scoring an impressive 96% on Rottentomatoes.com, compared to 35% for Where In The World?

 

Spurlock seemed both disgruntled and unfazed, during our interview, by the truth that neither of us actually said out loud: the film had been heralded by press as a "flop". When I had mentioned only recently seeing Super Size Me, because I had caught a primetime run on my plasma, his eyes lit up; "But that's where it really found most the people. When it hit TV and DVD, suddenly it was everywhere." This may seem an obvious hope for a man who had followed up 11 million with Where In The World's comparitively measly $250,000, whilst waiting for a DVD success that could only, for now, be imagined; but, in all fairness, after comparing Super Size Me's final gross DVD and Network sales, he speaks the truth: the film eventually took a further 27 million from post-theatre profits. And he soon corrected my ignorance, by assuring me that "documentaries never make their money at the cinemas, though - none of them do. It's always on DVD". Here we were, again (talking about the same thing, after all). But, again, he's right. Most docos never get to see a silver screen, at all, let alone make money off it. It's through those plasmas that he finds them. I actually got the feeling, at one stage, that he was now waiting through the cinematic release in hope of this new film finding people like my brother, again.

 

What interested me about the film's cinematic release - and its US failure - was that, if we are to analyse them with the mind of a marketing analyst (allow me), the demographic split in these left-wing pop culture products suggests that the comparison between $250,000 to 11 million says very little of his target market - the mainstream - and much more of those who comprise his theater demographic. Who knows what my brother will think of this film? Once it's out on DVD, I'll let you know.  But what we do know is that the left-wing audience - the young modern intellectuals, the protesters, the bohemians, the serious and "enlightened" movie reviewers, etc, etc - haven't taken to this film, whenever it has been screened in cinemas around the world.  

 

The reviews and articles I read, in preparation for this interview, all suggested this. To say they were "scathing" is somewhat of an understatement. I expected the right-wing deconstructions of the "lies" of this movie - and I found some - but most of the criticism, this time round, comes from the very people who you would presume were on his side. 

 

"Spurlock tells you virtually nothing you didn't already know," quips Owen Gleiberman; "And, what's more, he does it with catchy videogame graphics (Osama boogying to ''U Can't Touch This'') and faux-naive man-on-the-street interviews that make Michael Moore look like Chet Huntley. Where in the World Is Osama bin Laden? should have been called The Post-9/11 World for Dummies." Ouch.

 

"I wish he'd just forget about himself and his alleged "wit" (his first film was "Super Size Me") and build a movie around his wondrous interview techniques," sighs Washington Post's Stephen Hunter. "'Where in the World Is Osama Bin Laden?'  is so infantile you expect the answer to be, 'Not at my house!'", he jokes, displaying his alleged wit. "It isn't helped by a frequently screened scene of director-writer-producer-narcissicist Morgan Spurlock standing outside a cave in Afghanistan whispering 'Osama? Osama, are you there?'"

 

Chicago Reader's J. R. Jones was even less forgiving; "It's a little insulting to all the real reporters who've died in the field looking for hard information, not weak indie comedy."

 

Never one to take gospel from American press, I instead turned to some of the lefties I know, here, who had already seen the film (best not to ask "how" they'd seen it). Most of them scowled at the film and its maker, declaring the film "pointless" and "offensive", and even going as far as calling its maker "a capitalistic nihilist pretending to be a socially conscious warrior." Double ouch. Gotta look out for those capitalistic nihilists, don't you?! 

 

At first, I was excited to be meeting Spurlock - someone I had admired, since that day with my brother's DVD tower - but I grew unsure, the further I read on. I took him for a clever Lefty who actually understood how to penetrate a mindless mainstream with important calls to action - calls his mainstream fans were actually heeding. But was I mistaken? There's a fine line between the idea I had of Spurlock and... well.... Tim Brunero. The power of the spotlight is great, after all - it does strange things to those who find themselves beneath it. 

After viewing the film, it became clearer. Or more confusing. Did I enjoy the film? Not really. Did I learn anything new about the problems it "explored"? Not a thing. Did I find its humour funny? Not for a second. Did I, like so many of the reviewers ("The film's premise is silly," argues Jennifer Merin, "and it's silliness is offensive"), find some of its comedy inappropriate? A couple of times, yes. And, so, it would appear I agree with these critics, in some respect. They are "right", as such. The film is shallow, yes. It spends too much time on cool graphics and comedy punchlines to ever really go anywhere near anything resembling a "probing documentary", or even "journalism". The ending is incredibly contrived - you can feel them edit the narrative, and, if you can see it, the truth of the matter is nothing at all like what the film decides to leave its journey on (including a monologue that any Miss World contestant should be taking notes from). And, yes, it's sometimes hypocritical: it pleads for us to start understanding and respecting Middle Eastern culture, but at one point, Spurlock is interviewing an Afghani, and after hearing that the region wants to build an amusement park (to bring happiness to the little war-torn children, etc), his response is, "And the slogan could be: 'It's The Bomb.'" Boom-boom. I couldn't help but grimace. 

 

And while I was happy enough in our interview to dance around actually saying, "So, this film was a flop in the US", I was happy enough to tell him the truth; "I can't say I really got much out of it, personally, no" - which, as you can imagine, brought a pained expression to the face of the PR girl who overhead the comment! "But," I explained, "I guess I'm still a Yuppie Lefty from the inner city, at the end of the day. I don't need to learn its lesson. But I can totally respect what you're doing, and how those who need to learn it will benefit."

 

They will. And that's still as cool as my brother no longer eating McDonald's. It's cooler, in fact - it's about this horrible era of phobia and fear. How could any Lefty scathe a man who is actually smart enough to realise that nothing is going to be done about that, so long as the lefties sit around with their lattes to their lips, and their heads up their asses, calling such a man a "capitalistic nihilist"? Get a grip, people. You consider yourself a vessel of social truth, but too many of you live in la la land. It really isn't helping.  

 

Yes, I cringed, when Spurlock smiled, "It's the bomb". But, at the end of our interview, when I returned to the basic fact of the matter - that I personally didn't get much from the movie - he pointed out, "But, you can take your brother to see it!" And, yes, my brother will piss himself laughing at its many one-liners. And, similarly, like most lefties, I don't care much for violent video games - and using a faux computer game motif (instead of the old-fashioned aeroplane-across-the-map graphic, a different "arena" is selected in the Osama Bin Laden "videogame" which then becomes the next segment of the film) didn't do a great deal for me. But my partner - Generation Tech, if there ever was (and someone who is only just becoming connected to social and political issues, after having to live with someone who spends most of his time complaining about the world) - will think this is fabulous. And its "info"? Barely there. Its summary of Middle Eastern politics? Simplistic, to say the least (though, not untrue, as such). I know more than this film. Much more. I'm not one of the "dummies" Gleiberman referred to in his review. Chances are, neither are you. 

 

But what a telling term, to refer to those people who (oh my God!) don't understand Middle Eastern politics and, yes, have taken their general perceptions of their culture from opportunistic political propaganda, as "Dummies". Charming. And, sure, that's one harsh term from just one American journalist; but it adequately sums up the sentiment you find in any uni cafe, or any Lefty website, where the mainstream (and, yes, here's that term... the bogans) are looked down upon with such resentment, condescension and, I believe, ultimately detrimental ideas and perceptions. You can think it, if you like, I guess- but you will certainly get nowhere if you comunicate to them with such sentiment, and if you don't allow yourself to concede and grasp the level at which their understanding operates. Drop the attitude; because those bogans - quite understandably (because they are, funnily enough, human beings, who don't like being talked down to) - are not going to be too receptive to it. Morgan Spurlock knows this. He knows that my brother will find the whole thing terribly amusing, and walk out feeling endeared to something that wants him to no longer treat The Middle East as the ridiculous source of fear his government has wanted him to buy into, for the past seven years. It's nothing to scoff at. It says so much that the Left would.  

 

And, just as the mainstream don't like being hissed at, neither does Morgan Spurlock. The first thing I did, when meeting Spurlock, in retrospect, was perhaps a mistake; but it did reveal to me an interesting facet of the current state of mind of this film-maker. I made it very clear that I was a young Lefty, and explained the context of my interview and the audience it would find - I thought this would actually loosen him up, from one Lefty to another, and grant me access. And I was wrong. In the end - once he realised that I truly was a kindred spirit - we got along tremendously. But, in the beginning, I was met with a clear defensiveness that, listening back, was a reaction to his preconceptions of the archetype I had given him: a bohemian, anti-Bush Lefty. I think that's a shame that the reaction to his work has now left him dreading his own kind, in so many ways. But, he does. You could feel the flinch in the way he spoke, his stance, the way he presumed there to be more behind what I was asking him than there actually was. He presumed I was going to attack him. I had to make it quite clear that I was not. And, ironically, this seemed to change, once I had spoke of my time in advertising, and how I had finally given up my dayjob to follow my dreams, etc, etc, and how I actually understood and respected what he was doing in his own branding. Yes, Mr Spurlock, I get it. I think it's fully sick.

 

"I think it needs to be broken down into real simple ideas... For me, I don't want to make a movie for somebody who smokes a pipe and wears an ascot, or is at the protests", he said, evidencing an unfortunate resentment of those who are actually on the same side, ideologically. He chuckled - boom boom - but the sentiment was clear: the pipe-smokers were not exactly his biggest fans of late, and he knew it, and he knew that I, after all, would have known it, also. "I want to make a film for as wide an audience as possible; not for someone who's on one side of an isle. And hopefully, through comedy, and through the way we tell a story, and through making it not complex or something real deep that you have to be well educated or read the newspaper, every day, to understand, you can reach a real, general audience. I want the guy who sees The Dark Knight to be the same guy who sees Where In The World Is Osama Bin Laden, you know? Because it's fun, and it's entertaining, and it's a MOVIE!"

 

So, let's cut to the chase, shall we? I  brought up the criticism, directly - partly, to disassociate myself from it and make my position clear -  and asked him if he felt the Left who criticised him were actually suffering from an inability to understand the cultural necessity of accessibility. "Yeah, that's a great point!" he smiled. And from there, Morgan Spurlock and I became - for the intents and purposes of this moment - comrades. Yes, I was a bohemian Lefty. But I wasn't one of "them".

 

From there, he relaxed and felt much more at ease with discussing his intentions and ideas - ideas he would protect in other interviews I had watched, in preparation, with those from my side of the isle. Because even though I'm on one side, I'm talking to that other side. Talking to that other side is important. Knowing how to do that is crucial. And, truth be told, as the interview went on, I relaxed, too. I really dug this guy.  

 

"We have this whole idea of things having to be highbrow," he cringed, "...and I don't buy into that. I think if you really want to reach people, you have to make it something that everybody likes." Spurlock's trick, here, is to actually find the common ground, to effectively place himself in the same side of that isle, and connect to the simplistic side of movie-going. "People like chocolate and vanilla, and I like chocolate and vanilla. So, I think you have to really make it easy. And, at the same time, make it cool!"  

 

Granted, this connection is made easier for Spurlock, because he does seem to sincerely have a side to him that - in a terribly American way, perhaps - is into his "cool". I'm not that kind of cool. For me, "cool" is underground Berlin electronica. He talked of his love for Summer blockbusters, alongside his enjoyment of the serious documentaries and arthouse (we equally loved The Savages and The Ice Storm, and had our movie-buff moment in worshiping these films), and, perhaps, the apparent paradox of his cultural morphing abilities is rooted in some sincerity - enough to make it easy for him to make films that are, as he aspires to make, "easy". I can't say I share his love for Ironman, nor, like Spurlock, am waiting to see Wal-E. In a moment of connection, all I could really offer was that I really enjoyed getting stoned and watching Harry Potter at Imax. He thought that would be pretty cool. Perhaps, I'm a bit cooler than I thought.

 

At the end of the day, however much he naturally feels the wounds of his detractors (despite our facades, most of us do, after all), Spurlock's head is on his shoulders, and as long as he finds that mainstream audience his films are aimed at, he's no doubt happy he has achieved his goal. He insists that, when making his films, such criticism (most of it erupting online, needless to say) plays no part in the way he puts his films together. Instead, he confessed, the only voice managing to mark the finished product, at all, are test audiences. "I'm a big believer in test screenings," he nodded; here, he tests out his films and observes how they "play with an audience". This would be fodder for anyone who thinks Spurlock to be a "capitalistic nihilist" (I really don't know where the nihilism comes into it, but never mind): the image of a man happily changing his work for the knee-jerk reaction of a bunch of people who have been selected for their ability to fit so neatly into the archetype of the mainstream consumer demographic. Most film-makers talk with nothing but contempt for the power the modern American studio places in this process - something that legitimises them as artistes, etc. Ironic, really, that for all the talk of his ego, Spurlock has no problem putting his away to respect quantifiable audience reactions. He wants his films to find that audience. He wants his message to get through. I think that's a worthy attribute of any artist - particularly, for one who makes films fashioned as agents of social change.

 

By the interview's end, we had also discussed the current politician mood in America, as it braces for its next crucial election (he noted the optimism, but seemed somewhat skeptical of Obama's chances to, somewhat ironically, break through to the masses he needs to reach, in order to win), the argument that film-makers such as Moore and himself spoil a film by placing the spotlight too much on themselves (psychologically savvy, he recognised the function of the vicarious Everyman™; sighting the films' ability to reach that audience being partly because he, through the style some call egocentric, "takes them by the hand"), reality television (again, somewhat defensive, after having his own TV series, 30 Days, categorised by press as "reality TV" - something he despises the falseness of, and sees as a "joke") and whether or not Heath Ledger deserves an Oscar (he thinks he does, but can sight the hypocrisy in the attention given to this role, in comparison to meatier films, such as Brokeback). The interview will be aired on radio, next week (I'll let you know), but can also be found as a link, at the end of this article.

 

And, that was that. He told me I should take my brother to see the film, and I assured him that I certainly would, and that I expected him to love it. Trouble is, after inquiring to the cinemas screening Where In The World Is Osama Bin Laden? (it opens next Thursday), it would seem that its theatrical run will fill mostly arthouse cinemas. My brother doesn't go to those. He doesn't know what they are. They certainly don't have any, where he lives: three multiplexes, and the same six movies showing at all of them - that's Suburbia for you. It would seem the lefties are going to be the ones given this film, after all. So far, that hasn't particularly worked, very well. 

 

And while it feels odd writing these words... God bless JB Hifi. No, really. Because in a couple of months from now, an awful lot of people - the kind who wonder if the dark skinned guy next door has a bomb in that van he drives - will be brushing their finger along the new release DVD titles, and somewhere, in between The Dark Knight and Ironman, will be Where In The World Is Osama Bin Laden? And that, despite the scowls of trendy film critics and cultured latte drinkers, is a fabulous thing. 

 

"Thank you," I smiled, shaking his hand - for once, in such a situation, actually meaning it. "I hope your film finds its audience."

 

So should we all.