Despite being marketed as a dramedy (get it?), ultimately the movie leaves the viewer, if he/she is on the same wavelength as your scribe, depressed. I have been blessed by the films I’ve already seen in this mint new year. Several have been truly excellent – but this is the one that has had the most impact. One fears for society if this is what is still occurring – and the afterword before the end credits assured us all that it is. Of course it is America at the helm – who else? We in Oz were protected by some savvy enactments from our lawmakers back then, bless them, as well as the soft landing that China provided. Now China is out of the equation, will Australia, too, be dragged down next time?

Unlike the odious lot in Scorsese’s magnificent ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’, these guys didn’t get their kicks from a laid on lavish lifestyle of naked strippers, alcohol and drugs. These Wall Street warriors were more moderate in their private lives. Their adrenalin highs came from sober pursuits – those involved in making squillions. They’d do so, though, with nary a thought as to how their wheeler-dealerings affected anything else – whether that be the national economy or the countless mum and dad investors they were ruining in the process.

Director Adam McKay, best known previously for the silly delights of ‘The Anchorman’ franchise, has been nominated for an Oscar with this offering. ‘The Big Short’ will probably not win best movie category if the odds (albeit now shortening) are to be believed, but I will be chuffed if he brings home the bacon as best director. What McKay has dished up here is full of laughs – and I think that is the nub of why it works so well. We’re laughing at a terrible event. We’re laughing even though it can happen again. We’re laughing when we’re also informed that the US banking system has Washington so much by the short and curlies that nothing, in retrospect, has been put in place to prevent future system meltdown.

That there is much explanation of the financial procedures taking place on the screen has been criticised by some reviewers. Although I failed to understand much of it, for me it didn’t detract one iota, nor the methods used by the director to present such info.

Some of Hollywood’s best thespians were recruited for this project – Christian Bale (charmless and oozing body odour – you could almost smell him reek), Brad Pitt (rustic and reluctant until the crunch), Ryan Gosling (sleekly oiling out bad-ass vibes). All were sublimely good. Despite the vision of Margot Robbie in bubbles and sipping bubbly as she explained to us the finer points of shonky, but not illegal, financial practices these fellows indulged in, women didn’t figure strongly in ‘The Big Short’. Men ran the show, with none more initially ruthless than Steve Carell’s Mark Baum. For me his performance was the highlight. The Forty Year Old Virgin acted his socks off as the only one who developed any sort of a conscience over what he was about to do – but, in the end, even he hesitated only briefly. He knew the mayhem that was about to unfold, but as well the profits to be made when it did.

So what did these finance bods do? Well, between them they worked out that the ‘sub-prime’ business going on between the banks in the US was rotten to the core – so much so that it would bring the whole shebang tumbling down. They not only knew this, but also exactly what would happen as it occurred and the exact date it would all unfold. They weren’t exactly right in the end, but it didn’t matter. They had manoeuvred for all they were worth to be in best position to benefit. The few in the know were all going to be very, very wealthy – despite the chaos almost culminating in the bankruptcy of the system when it did. And all what they did was perfectly permissible under law. A panic hit the financial markets of the world, bringing some countries teetering to the brink, but the American tax payer was forced to bail out the big banks, saving their skins. Much of these rescue packages were taken up with the bonuses paid to the high-flyers who were responsible for the whole mess. Thousands and thousands of average Joes and Josephines were left homeless as a result. There was no bail out for them. And our heroes – well they made the killing they expected.

It basically made me feel sick to the stomach. So much greed. Just greed.

Official trailer = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWr8hbUkG9s

In the first week of this mint new year the Blue Room visited the above two nations courtesy of the silver screens at the State. In ‘Youth’ and ‘The Bélier Family’, 2016 took off to a rip-roaring start with this pair of diverse movies. They both entranced – they were mutually of the highest order.

Two old friends, chewing the fat whilst having a soak in the spa’s pool, are rudely – or perhaps not so rudely – interrupted from their musings on the state of the world and their respective bladders by something that leaves them open mouthed. In fact it completely takes their minds off the issues involved in taking a regular piss at their age. Dipping her toe in before joining them is the recently crowned Miss International (Madalina Diana Ghenea). They are gobsmacked. She isn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. One remarks to the other that what they are viewing is probably the last idyll of their lives.
This was only one of the memorable moments in a film overloaded with stunningly beautiful – and at times startlingly whimsical – imagery. A few years ago Paolo Sorrento delivered something just as wondrous with his hugely successful ‘The Great Beauty’. This English language offering is perhaps more accessible than its predecessor, but also maybe the lesser, just, for it. Both engorge our senses.

‘Youth’ is set in a rejuvenation centre for the rich and famous in the shadow of the Swiss Alps. Michael Caine is one of the old fellows being pampered and pummelled to within an inch of himself there, as well as being granted the sublime vision of that very generous and sultry young lady. He is also being pestered by an emissary from no less than the Queen to come out of retirement and provide her birthday pressie to her hubby. You see MC plays Fred Ballinger, a noted composer/conductor whom Her Majesty desperately wants to conduct, for her prince, some of his famous ‘Simple Songs’.

Michael Caine is not only a British national treasure, he’s a global one. He’s appeared in around 115 features and shows no sign of slowing down. I remember first seeing him in something called ‘Zulu’ (1964). But the movie that initially made this scribe sit up and take notice was the ‘Ipcress File’, his take on James Bond in the form of Harry Palmer There were several sequels. Of course his signature outing from this early period was 1966’s ‘Alfie’. It was remarkable for its time and his cockney lead protagonist is an indelible memento of a decade when a bright new Britain emerged from the dowdy shadows of the war-worn fifties.

Caine’s character has no desire to return to the stage, irrespective of who is requesting it happens. He’s lost a bit of life-interest since his wife’s departure from the world, despite the best efforts of his daughter/secretary (Rachel Weisz) to gee him up. She’s wedded to the wastrel son of his mate (Harvey Keitel). The hedonistic offspring is busy breaking up the marriage by flinging with pop-star Paloma Faith, playing herself. The two ageing buddies, through talk and surreal dreams, spend their days revisiting a time when they were in their pomp. Keitel’s Mick Boyle, a director, still reckons he is back there, busily writing his swansong which he trusts will mark the pinnacle of a long career. Enter a very revealing Jane Fonda to stymie this particular flight of fancy. Paul Dano is superb in his role as an actor about to play a great dictator. We are also delighted with visions of Caine conducting a field of cows, diners who refuse to utter a word to each other and the glorious Sumi Jo, also stupendously playing herself, in the closing scene of this fabulous cinema attraction. Described as a ‘…poignant story of friendship, family, love and loss, and yearning to make sense of it’, this took my breath away from the get-go. The Blue Room loved this ‘…swooningly beautiful dramatic comedy.’

As it did the French offering. Television talent quests are an ubiquitous staple these days. ‘(Insert country) Got Talent’, ‘The X-Factor’ and ‘The Voice’ are franchises that occasionally can deliver more than mediocrity – cite Jessica Mauboy here, Susan Boyle in the UK and Katy Perry Stateside. As terrific as these ladies may be, none have stolen away my heart in the same way as a semi-finalist from the French version of ‘The Voice’, Louane Emera. She turned heads in her country’s break-out movie of ’15, ‘The Bélier Family’, winning for herself a César Award in the process. She ‘…shines with the intensity of a thousand suns…’ in her role as Paula, a sixteen year old struggling with an infatuation for the new kid on the block at school and the late arrival of her periods. Compounding those adversities is the fact that she is the mouthpiece for her family as her parents and brother are aurally challenged. Then her music teacher (Eric Elmosnino) discovers she can sing. Boy, can she sing! His aspirations for her throw the family dynamic completely out of kilter. Karin Viard over-acts for all she is worth as the overtly ditsy mother, as well as one having to contend with the increasing spread of a vaginal infection as the movie proceeds. The audience will respond in the positive to her despite all this, as it will for a father, François Damiens, who, despite his handicap, gets it into his head that he would be ideal as their community’s next mayor. He gives a terrific performance and is responsible for much of this gem’s poignancy – which it dishes out in spades. It is a tad slow, in the beginning, to pick up speed, but once it does, it would give even the most flinty-hearted viewer a cause to reach for something to dry tear duct secretions. The French-speaking world loved it and I have no doubt it will make an impact on the art house circuit here. Its finale is pure Hollywood, but oh so life affirming – and ‘hearing’ a concert from the perspective of a deaf person was a master-stroke by director Eric Lartigau. This film lifts the spirits and I left the State in a state of almost blissfulness.

So there we have it – one movie featuring an old hand who has been giving his innumerable fans pleasure for decades – whilst the other gives us a luminous new star who lights up the screen and will hopefully give pleasure for decades to come.

Trailer for ‘Youth’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-T7CM4di_0c

Trailer for ”The Bélier Family’ =  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P9p0qnj4OC4

Oscar agreed. It was without peer in the productions of 2014 and was seen by your scribe way back in January. Just as nothing matched it before its gong, nothing has come close since. The only disappointment was that its born again star didn’t get the accolades as well, so:-

1. Birdman – simply sublime.

2. Inherent Vice – Many critics disagreed and I freely admit I had little clue to what was going on in it – but what a trip, in both senses of the word, it took us on. And Joaquin Phoenix, together with his sideburns, was almost as mesmerising as Michael Keaton in the above.

3. 5 to 7 – A Frenchified frolic from Hollywood with delightful results. And Bérénice Marlohe? Yum.

4. Wild Tales – Murder and black, black mayhem from Argentina. I squirmed in my seat but was transfixed.

5. Mr Turner – No doubt it will be Timothy Spall’s signature role – one great artist portraying another.

6. Far From the Madding Crowd – Perhaps not quite with the same impact on the sensibilities as the Julie Christie 1967 vehicle, but Carey Mulligan shines playing off Belgium’s pride, Matthias Schoenaerts.

7. Gemma Bovary – Another classic, this time in a contemporary setting, with the beauteous Gemma Arterton dazzling French veteran Fabrice Luchini – and she dazzled me as well.

8. Last Cab to Darwin – At the recent AACTA Awards Michael Caton deservedly won best actor for his role in this, his second best on screen performance – to date.

9. St Vincent – Bill Murray. Nothing more to say.

10. Love and Mercy – A loopy Brian Wilson played by two actors. The story behind the music of the summers of my youth.

HMs – Ex-Machina, The Dressmaker, Infinity Polar Bear, The Imitation Game, Ricki and the Flash, Testament of Youth, The Theory of Everything, X + Y, Samba, The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.

The only fault in it was the smoking. They were both smokers. It’s a disgusting habit, truly disgusting – until you see her smoke. Sexy. Seriously sexy. A woman with her lips clenched around a fag is usually such a turn-off for me. But there’s nothing that Arielle does that does not ooze allure. And her smile, my lord her smile! I was smitten by Arielle (Bérénice Marlohe) from go to whoa – and to top it off, she’s French and reeking of Frenchiness. The movie is ‘5 to 7’.

Her love interest is considerably younger, by nine years, at twenty-four. He is very droll, somewhat naive and a novice – as in yet to be published – writer. He’s played by Anton Yelchen. There’s a Allenesque touch to this offering from director Victor Levin, or perhaps it’s a throwback to the fluffy screw-ball comedies of manners from a past golden age. And it just goes to show that a movie doesn’t have to have their main protagonists ripping their clothing off at the drop of a hat to get the blood pulsing. By the end I realised this, for me – a movie about falling in love and never out of it – was a true treat for all my senses.

As for the title – of course, being a French woman, she is married but not adverse to a little more spice in her life, particularly as hubby (Lambert Wilson) has a similar proclivity. But they are only available for dalliances between the hours of five to seven, their remaining ones taken up by work and family. His mistress (Olivia Thirlby) is a bouncy, beguiling young editor for a leading publishing house – see where this is going?

Of course the central relationship has to end badly once the five to seven rule is broken and Blind Freddy could see that the young man will end up with the cute and caring soon-to-be ex-mistress. Then it’ll be Hollywood happy ever-afters for all concerned. But just remember, although this is an American production, it takes its cues from elsewhere. What starts as a sort of arrangement of mutual benefit becomes much more and the binds of love they discover in each other are not so straight forward in breaking free from. How could one ever throw off the appeal of the ministrations of such a striking woman – and such a clichéd French one to boot?

Actress Marlohe is a former Bond girl (Skyfall), but the only recognisable faces for me in the movie were his parents, Glenn Close and Frank Lagella. Both have the most delightful fun with their roles. Mother was soon in thrall of her boy’s older woman, but his gruff father, who nonetheless displayed a touching love for his wayward son, was less sure that their relationship could finish up as being in any way beneficial for the lad.

In the end the young editor comes to his rescue, once the obvious occurs, with the denouement involving marriage and kids. When our two former lovers accidentally collide, some years down the track from their inevitable parting, we discover that what they once had is still as fresh as the day they met. This spoiler, I assure you, will not detract from the enjoyment any viewer will take from this beguiling gem. Arielle would be impossible for any man to forget – and maybe I’ll have to suffer a James Bond to see Bérénice Marlohe again. As Brian, our young, hopelessly in love hero, states ‘Some of the best writing in New York won’t be found in books, or movies, or plays, but on the benches of Central Park. Read the benches, and you understand.’ Yes you will.

Official Trailer = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XiALAzGRcZ8

It was interesting going to an evening session, as I did recently at the State, to belatedly show my support for its leg of the Italian Film Festival. On this Tuesday eve the Hobartian institution was pumping. The place was jam-packed – foyer, café – upstairs and down – and when I reached it, early-ish as usual – there were already only a handful of seats left in my viewing room. The audience ensconced there seemed to be all happily murmuring to each other, sipping on wines or partaking of flat whites. The clients were decidedly better dressed than I, even if I wasn’t in my usual garb of trackies and crocs. In other words, I had made an effort – but even so, I felt slightly out of place when the other cinema goers obviously felt that, even in this day and age, attending the movies at night required dressing to the nines. But that’s all good, I reckon.

It was such a contrast when I ventured to the same venue last Monday. It is my usual wont to attend the first screening of the day of my film of choice. ‘Miss You Already’, the UK set latest vehicle of now veteran Toni Collette, was it on that day. I was one of only four viewees – another loner, female, and a middle-aged couple up the back. Sometimes, at this hour, I am the sole attendee in one the State’s eight or so cinemas. I like being early – having a coffee before hand, or puddling around in the attached bookshop. I carry a newspaper to peruse until the lights go down. I am quite happy and feel not at all self-conscious at being unpartnered. Any conversation by my fellow buffs seems to be amplified at that time of day, possibly due to diminished numbers. So, when the other loner received a call on her mobile, perfectly okay as the feature hadn’t started, I could not help but overhear. She proceeded to explain to the other party where she was and what she was about to see. She continued on that she had heard that our chosen movie was one that was terribly tragic and she’d been warned to have copious tissues in possession. So I therefore feared the worse. I notoriously tear-up at the drop of the hat.

I knew, of course, that the subject matter was no laughing matter – although our lead did her best to keep on cracking funnies, despite the ordeal she was progressing through. Battling breast cancer is the situation Toni Collette finds herself in. Her character, Milly, was facing the cruellest of cruel outcomes. I reckon I had my hankie out by the ten minute mark and by the end of the first half hour I had shed more tears than in all the titles I’d seen so far in ’15 combined. Then it got better after that. No, her situation remained dire – but I seemed to be able to cope without being a blathering wreck as the heartstrings were pulled even tighter. Perhaps I’d simply run out of tears. The prognosis for Millie became bleaker and bleaker the longer the movie ran.

Before and in the early stages of the disease Milly was the life of the party. She was a ditzy and scatty; a thoroughly adorable high-flyer – but once the awfulness of her affliction took away her hair and then her breasts she, naturally, found it harder to keep up the pretence. Milly was married to a rock star who, as the disease progressed, found it difficult to cope with the triple whammy of her deterioration, her mood-swings and the two confused kiddies. He really blew it the first time the couple attempted intimacy after her mastectomy, which led our heroine into a fling before her condition made any of that sort of thing near impossible. It was with a bartender on the Yorkshire moors, no less.

Until said fling, her bestie had been there for her. Jess (Drew Barrymore – expressly asked for by Collette to play the role) had issues of her own – in the conceiving department. As the news became worse for her mate, it became better and better for a Jess now on IVF. Barrymore was the grounded counter to Toni C’s zaniness and I enjoyed her considered performance. There were also fine turns from the men-folk involved – Dominic Cooper as struggling hubby and singer Tyson Ritter as her handsome, devil-may-care lover. I was especially impressed with Paddy Considine as the ever tolerant partner to Jess. He tries to hold it all together as the womenfolk veer off in all directions.

To my mind only the great Blanchett can match Collette as our best female product on the big screen – sorry Nicole. I enjoyed TC in last year’s ‘Lucky Them’ immensely – and of course there’s the roles she’s most noted for: ‘Muriel’s Wedding’, ‘About a Boy’ and a personal fav – ‘Japanese Story’.

On the smaller screen she’s made the ground-breaking ‘The United States of Tara’. I suspect by the time my scribbling on it makes it to print this movie will have left the multiplexes. If you’ve missed it, no doubt it’ll be just as powerful on your very own small domestic platform – that’s the right up-to-date lingo, isn’t it?

Trailer for ‘Miss You Already’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5LdNvLXddA

I was fooled. When she popped up again on the screen in the second of two movies I’d seen consecutively in recent times, I assumed it was the same actress. In both she had supporting roles. But my assumption was incorrect, but at least the two co-stars shared the same genes, so I wasn’t going completely ga-ga. I only discovered they weren’t the identical person when I took to the ether after the second film and wondered why the actress concerned didn’t receive a credit for the first production in her filmography. Finally I twigged – sisters. And what’s more, daughters of Hollywood royalty.

The eldest, Mamie (Mary Willa) Gummer was born in 1983 and has acted since she was a kid, occasionally in her mother’s movies. When I delved into it she had quite a resume of significant roles – as ‘Emily Owens MD’; in ‘The Good Wife’, ‘Off the Map’ and the wonderful ‘John Adams’ – all for the small screen. As well there’d been a spattering of movies, but it was in ‘Ricki and the Flash’ that she really caught my attention. I’d journeyed to this offering after a pleasant exile from movie going – hastening to add that partaking of the menu at the State is never a chore. There was something about Mamie G that made me really hone in on her after my enforced absence. Playing a jilted wife in the course of a meltdown, returning to the family home, I thought she was the best thing in the Jonathan Demme directed feature. That and her mum’s glorious belting it out as a minor league rock queen. I’d read Meryl Streep’s real life daughter had a role in it. Straight away one could notice something of her mother’s features in her but, in this, there were a few very rough edges thrown in as well.

As well as a muted performance from the always watchable Kevin Kline, this unrealised gem also gave us our own Rick Springfield supporting Ms Streep in her band and as her love interest – finally. Although at times he seemed to be acting in a different movie than Meryl S, I still enjoyed his presence immensely. The actress has serenaded us before, most recently in the lamentable ‘Mama Mia’, but here she really lets rip – and she’s not bad. She’s a goodly set of pipes on her.

The movie itself has received a luke-warm response from the viewing public, as well as the critics, being in my judgement no earth-shaker – but neither is it without some serious charm. It has a pleasant vibe and the watcher knows it’ll all work out in the end from the get-go. But there are an array of toe-tappin’ tunes and it did introduce me to one of the great lady’s progeny in which long term hubby and sculptor, Don Gummer, also had a hand. I’ll watch out for her in other offerings, as I will for daughter number two.

In ‘Learning to Drive’ I thought I was casting my eyes over Mamie again, although in a lesser role in terms of screen time. I watched the credits at the end just to make sure, saw the name Gummer so felt I was. I knew that link between the two films could be the basis for this scribbling – as it still turned out despite the humble author completely having the wrong end of the stick for a while. But I did my research and discovered it before I had egg on my face.

Grace was born in ’86. She’s had roles in ‘American Horror’, ‘The Newsroom’ and ‘Extant’. Out of Tinsel Town she’s featured in in a few roles, occasionally alongside her mum. She was also in ‘Frances Ha’, a movie I enjoyed very much.

In ‘Learning to Drive’ she has bookended appearances as Wendy’s (Patricia Clarkson) daughter – and gee, she bears a striking resemblance to her older sibling, thus my befuddlement. Again this is another sweet indie that deserved a better response all round. It’s faults, though, were more obvious than the aforementioned vehicle for elder sister and Ms Streep. For my money the ‘ghosts’ that regularly appeared did not add anything at all and Ben Kingsley was unconvincing as the Indian Sikh American trying to teach Wendy to handle a car. He has obviously played Indian before and it is part of his heritage, but he seemed very stilted and uncomfortable in the role. Wendy is again a jilted wife falling to pieces and the driving instructor, in a way, becomes her main means to cling on to reality – before he falls in love with her. The cultural divide, though, is too much, Wendy’s feelings are fluctuating, so in the end he enters into an arranged marriage – one that seems certain to flounder as another cultural divide emerges. Director Isobel Coixet manages her ensemble cast with aplomb – better than the make up artists did with Kingsley’s beard and hair do. For me it was a distraction, trying to workout out how it had all been affixed to his stately head.

Clarkson’s character, taking the step of trying to get her life in order by buying a car and learning to drive it, is all fragility and bitterness. She is a fine actor, is Clarkson, usually in small movies such as this. She is underused by the industry. It’s been a journey(wo)man career, but she garnered awards for her roles in ‘The Station Agent’ and ‘Pieces of April’. She doesn’t miss a beat in this outing, but I must admit I was disappointed with Kingsley, fine thesp that he is. It was no wonder his love was unrequited in the end, if that’s not giving too much away. It is worth, though, perusal on the small screen as it’s run on the larger was over almost before it began.

And, to round matters out, there is yet one more Gummer girl. Louisa is a model.

Official trailer ‘Ricki and the Flash’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8PVK6Hky2A

Official Trailer ‘Learning to Drive’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1WBnG3FiZk0

It was worth more that two and a half, Paul Brynes – it was! Granted, one could still argue it wasn’t a patch on classic Allen – no where near ‘Annie Hall’, ‘Manhattan or, more recently, ‘Midnight in Paris’ and the marvellous Cate Blanchett vehicle, ‘Blue Jasmine’. So the reviewer from the Age is correct in that regard, but still, that rating – well it was miserly for what was nonetheless an amiably entertaining film. But the critic made a point about his distaste for ageing male Hollywood stars playing against much younger actors as their love interest and there’s another case of that here. I concur wholeheartedly with this view. It does get on one’s pip, I must admit. That is not just jealousy speaking – it’s so unrealistic in most cases. But at least it’s not Woody himself as the romantic lead, as in the past on occasion. Emma Stone does a fine job as the more junior of the two ladies who fall in lust with the dissolute Abe Lucas (Joaquin Phoenix), newly arrived on campus as the bad boy of the philosophy department. To give him some credit he did reject the none to subtle advances of the student initially – but that was possibly only because, at that stage, he was struggling with his libido. All that grog wouldn’t have helped. We know he was a dud in the sack because of his impotent display with the older Rita (Parker Posey) – a far more suitable, age-wise if nothing else, match for him. And it has to be said, his colleague’s wife is a far more sensual, interesting woman than Stone’s Jill Pollard.

Phoenix does look as though he’s kinda sleep-walking through his role in this the auteur’s latest. It’s as if life’s party has petered out for his character – that is, until an overheard conversation puts the pep back into his step. He’s contemplating murder you see. There’s renewed vigour in his classroom and bedroom performances – enough to be finally tempted by Jill.

It’s not great, is ‘Irrational Man’, but it’s nowhere near the waste of money Allen at his worst provides. The two women, for my particular dollar, steal proceedings – especially the lustful, lustrous Posey – why on earth don’t we see more of her up there on the big screen? In the end the villain gets his just desserts – both of them. I did feel the climax needed a tad more teasing out – to me it seemed out of kilter with the rest of the offering. In truth, Paul B, I’d give it one more complete star – but you did allow that other critics have been kinder. Even an average Allen, in my view, is far superior to most of the dross Hollywood produces these days. Long may we cherish him, despite all his hang-ups and misdemeanours.

Now how could the Blue Room have resisted a movie entitled, well, ‘The Blue Room’? And yes, a blue room certainly features throughout – but mainly, as well as exceedingly erotically, in the opening scenes. Delphine (Léa Drucker) and Julien ( Mathieu Amalric), both married, escape to this upstairs room to conduct their passionate affair. She hangs a towel out the window when hubby, who works downstairs as a chemist, is absent. Directed by the lead male, he also bucks the trend and places his privates on display – why should it be expected only of the women? What the viewer eventually realises, as the hanky-panky disappears from the screen, is that really the film is a police procedural, for the aforementioned cuckolded chemist has been murdered. Which of the pair did the deed – or were they in collusion? That is the point of the exercise. We learn that neither party are being completely honest with the investigators, or in court, through witnessing the back story – red herrings there are a-plenty. The convoluted evidence presented at the duo’s trial left me completely confused as to how the jury arrived at the verdict they did. But we do know, by the time this is reached, that one of the pair is decidedly out of love/lust with the other – and the direct opposite applies. One decidedly also has a screw loose.

‘The Blue Room’ has enough Frenchiness to keep this customer satisfied. Again, though, as with ‘Irrational Man’, it didn’t completely captivate. I would have been happier if I were as certain as to whom was the guilty party as the members of the public sitting in judgement. However, as it was hard to feel anything for either of the lovers being held for the despicable act, in the end the verdict didn’t matter much. Maybe they both received what they deserved.

I really wouldn’t make it a priority to see either film before their respective runs end, but as for viewing one or both on some other platform – the ‘in’ word these days it seems – one could do a great deal worse, as I have in recent days, than these two offerings.

Official trailer ‘Irrational Man’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hP8mPkyBntw

Official trailer ‘The Blue Room’ = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ieb9AbLl1_k

There’s no greater contrast in our land than between sun-bedazzled Sydney, on its harbour, to sun-blistered Broken Hill, on its slag-heaps where the bush gives way to the desert. As well, there’s also no greater contrast in our land as between the denizens who populate those two burbs. Our premier city has its fair share of suited and befrocked sophisticates as befits the cosmopolitan metropolis it has become. Contrast that to the knock-about, laconic blokes and sheilas of Silver City. And there’s no greater contrast between the pair of movies we have under the microscope here – Brendan Cowell’s ‘Ruben Guthrie’ and Jeremy Sims’ Outback road trip, ‘Last Cab to Darwin’.

Both, in this scribe’s view, have their faults But, overwhelmingly, both were highly respectable offerings in terms of quality. The cinema going punters thought otherwise, though. For an Oz effort the former wasn’t a complete disaster earning good dollars during its run – in the hundreds of thousands. But LCTD creamed it at the box-office with earnings now up above the three million mark and climbing. Although most of us reside in a coastal necklace of large cities, from ‘Dad and Dave’ to ‘Crocodile Dundee’ to ‘Last Cab’, give us a good yarn about bush yokels and we’re suckers for the taking. The Outback, don’t you know – that’s where the true-blue Australia is.

Ruben Guthrie is an ugly man, not a likeable fellow at all – and that’s perhaps the problem. Australians have adored Michael Caton ever since he added new phrases to our lingo in the magnificent Aussie battler tale of ‘The Castle’. The promise of another fine turn from him bought us to the multiplexes in our droves. We weren’t disappointed. He is superb as a guy at death’s door. He doesn’t want to do the hard yards to an unseemly, painful demise and who can blame him? In the period the movie is set the Northern Territory legislature had just introduced a law permitting us to put ourselves, legally, out of our misery – to have the same option as we would bestow on a well loved pet. For a nano-second, before Howard and his cronies decided it was their right to play god as pollies are wont, a government finally had the courage to stick its nose up at the far right and do the humane thing. It didn’t last long, did it? But it will happen, eventually.

As Rex couldn’t face a cruel death he, being a taxi driver in the Outback NSW town, took one last fare – himself. He’s off to Darwin in the hope of a gentler exit. What eventually transpires; the characters he meets en route and a stellar performance from the lead makes this such a rewarding experience – a beaut effort at the genre our local industry does best. No need to be all arty-farty. Leave that to the countries that excel in that. It won’t bring the average joe in. Stick to what we know and our film-making can be viable. This is one that’s all heart, with an ending that will make one leave with a smile – despite its subject matter. We can only hope that a few of our leaders view it and at least contemplate allowing us a choice in the way we would like out time to be bought to an end. Once upon a time we were the land of the fair go.

There is a grim outcome for Rex, the cab driver, but there’s much joy to be had with Sim’s product here. The supporting cast are particularly fine, especially Nigali Lawford-Wolf and Mark Coles Smith. Jackie Weaver’s role, despite some critical displeasure, is okay as the euthanasia-ing, proselytising doctor. The aforementioned jack-of-all trades, Cowell, has a brief cameo and the other John Howard features. Even Bristle (Brian Taylor) gets a guernsey.

And the ‘…thirsty comedy about a man on the rocks’? It is also worth a bo-peep when it comes along on some small screen platform or other. Ruben is an A1 party animal, with Sydney’s hedonistic lifestyle giving him an immense playground in which to indulge himself in a sea of grog and other ingestibles. He possesses a palatial home, a European model as prime squeeze and he’s killing it in his advertising job. Trouble is – his life choices are also killing him. Eventually he wises up and sees the need to go on the wagon – but can he prevent himself from slipping off at the first whiff of a martini olive? It’s a journey he has to take – one that is never short of interesting as he battles his demons and as with Rex’s bull-dust adventures, there are interesting companions to meet en route. With competent performances from Robyn Nevin and Alex Dimitriades, as well as from the doyen, Jack T, who also puts in an appearance – plenty of life left in that old dog – the film is well served by its supporting cast. As is well documented about Brendan C’s own life, the film, as well as the play from which it derives it roots, is pretty much autobiographical. The question then is why didn’t he just play himself? Perhaps it was too close to home, but nonetheless Patrick Brammall is a perfectly adequate substitute – an actor starting to make a mark after his performance in ABC’s ‘Glitch’. He is initially convincing as a drunk out of control, before events conspire forcing his character to reassess himself as a person.

Worthy also of mention is the lovely work Sarah Blasko has done with the soundtrack (she must be just about due for another album). I liked ‘Ruben Guthrie’ As it was chosen to open this year’s Sydney Film Festival, I am patently not alone. But the people who really count – those lining up for tickets at the box office – well, they largely bypassed it.

As LCTD did for euthanasia, so RG does for binge drinking. At the conclusion of the latter offering Ruben has to make a snap decision that so many in similar situation also have also had to face. Unfortunately, in the instance that Rex so poignantly highlights in his trip to the Top End, for those in similar circumstances today there is no choice now on offer. We have a bit of maturing to do as a nation.

‘Last Cab to Darwin’ website = http://www.lastcab.com.au/lastcab.com.au/Home.html

‘Last Cab to Darwin’ trailer = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VdzkJL37db8

‘Ruben Guthrie’ website = http://rubenguthrie.com.au/

‘Ruben Guthrie’ trailer = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iyaE_L3TghI

Trite and slight – it was a little film. I daresay nobody will have it on their list of the top ten for the year. This cinema lover certainly won’t either. It was eminently predictable with the two leads just going through their paces, producing the same shtick they’re renowned for. They have been doing it for decades now. It’s ending is a cop-out, but which of us probably wouldn’t make the same decision, given the circumstances – that is, to try and put off the inevitable just a while longer. There’s the corny sub-plot of a cute dog at death’s door and creating a sense of unease, there’s a terrorist on the loose in the neighbourhood. Hopefully it’s not too much of a spoiler to mention that nothing untoward happens to shatter the slumbery pace of this light effort from director Richard Loncraine.

Respected critic Philippa Hawker recently did a puff piece to promote the film, which in truth hasn’t attracted a great deal of kindness from many of her colleagues in the print media. She describes ‘5 Flights Up’ as a ‘…love letter to New York, and to the importance of connections to place.’

Alex and Ruth have aboded in the same Brooklyn apartment for most of their married years, but are now of an age, despite their love of home and the area they live in, where a change is of the essence. They cannot imagine hauling themselves up those stairs in their elevator-less building for much longer. They must engage in the process of finding somewhere else to live before their health collapses due to the strain of it all. Enter the vicissitudes of buying and selling real estate, represented by motor-mouth agent played irritatingly (on purpose) by Cynthia Nixon. She gets on the couple’s pip, not to mention the audience’s. Alex (Morgan Freeman) knows in his heart of hearts he should move, but is in denial. Voluble Ruth (Diane Keaton), is the mover and shaker of the two, worried about her hubby’s – well-being. He’s already had a scare. Obviously their union doesn’t raise a ripple these days, but back when they hitched it was unusual to say the least – as well as frowned on by many. They came together when Alex engaged her to pose nude – he’s an artist you see – just starting out back then, but now with some repute. She wanted to know why he chose her from however they did such a thing in the pre-on-line perusal age. There were many prettier girls listed she coyly claimed. ‘Because you’re real,’ was his response. That hooked her. The younger Ruth is beautifully played by Oz actress Claire van der Boom.

And, for my money, there are few actresses who have graced our screens more beautifully than Diane K over the years. Remember how we all fell in love with her in ‘Annie Hall’. In her close-ups now there is the obvious weathering of age on her gorgeous features, but none-the-less she’s still a stunner. Long may she remain so.

And of course Morgan Freeman is simply irreplaceable in our world. In his next film he’s teamed with Alan Arkin, Michael Caine and Ann Margaret. Can’t wait for that.

But Ms Hawker is correct. New York, away from the Statue of Liberty, skyscrapers and street canyons, is charmingly portrayed. The city has never featured as a place pulling me to visit, but after ‘5Flights Up’ I could be tempted and I know I’d spend all my time in the land of Alex and Ruth. For all its faults, the offering is a loving homage to the real Big Apple and its real people.

Official web-site = http://www.focusfeatures.com/5_flights_up

The trove that are the stories of Arthur Conan Doyle give and give anew for each generation. They’ve been adapted for moving pictures; added to by other wordsmiths – some are up to the mark, others pale by comparison. A recent addition has now come to the big screen, based on the novel ‘A Slight Trick of the Mind’ by American writer Mitch Cullin. This movie certainly doesn’t fall short of the mark.

In it there are none of the idiosyncrasies and embellishments of the Hollywood franchise, based on the crowd pulling power of Robert Downey Jr and Jude Law – the first of these put me to sleep in Gold Class. Much better is the television series helmed by Benedict Cumberbatch. Presently on our small screens, as well, is an American update with Johnny Lee Miller as the great sleuth. But the production in question, ‘Mr Holmes’ is an entirely different kettle of red herrings to these – and all the better for it. There are no bells and whistles – just straight old-fashioned yarn-spinning.

In this take on the tales the famous detective is presented as a nonagenarian, nutting out his last case through the powers of deduction (his and a young lad’s), before his mind deserts him completely. The film, in my view, is as much a vehicle for the remarkable doyen of Brit cinema, Sir Ian McKellen, as anything else. The audience is riveted to his face whenever he is in view. In all this he needs nothing from the gee-whiz merchants of Tinsel Town, except for some make-up to even more advance his already redoubtable age. To me the back story of the offering – one that caused the old man such a heavy heart – is a filler. It would have been enough to concentrate on his relationship with the boy (an excellent Milo Parker), house-keeper (Laura Linney) and his bees. Roger is the house-keeper/carer’s son, on the verge of teenagerdom and starting to show signs of wanting to wriggle out from under the thumb of parental control. As the film progresses, so the bond between Holmes and this intelligent young man increases. Some critics have used this to riff on the possible homosexual undercurrents here, something they assert exists in all the classic Holmes stories. Maybe I’m naive, but sitting there that day, in my comfortable seat at the State, that consideration never entered my head. Maybe I missed something. McKellen is gay, Sherlock is unmarried – so what?

I also found it puzzling that an American thesp was chosen to play the role of his carer. Looking after Holmes, now retired to a stunning coastal Sussex, is not an easy task given his increasingly curmudgeonly ways, but Mrs Munro does a sterling job. And Linney is sterling in her efforts with an English accent, even if it jars on occasions. She is solid in the role, but I cannot help but wonder why some home grown actress was not selected? Who knows? Perhaps they were all busy or demurred for some reason.

In ‘Mr Holmes’, another product from capable director Bill Condon (Dreamgirls, Gods and Monsters – the latter also featuring McKellen), the literary icon has outlived two world wars. He’s recently been to Japan in search of a mysterious, if plain-labelled, elixir to prolong life. He found it in the ruins of Hiroshima. Alongside all this are his attempts to place together the final pieces in the puzzle that was his final shattered commission. And there’s a beautiful lady (Hattie Morahan) at its core. He is anguished that he rejected, out of hand, her advances – of a sort. At the end of the tale, what happens to the boy further increases his pain. And, if all of the above is not enough of a homily to reflect on, his bees are dying off. That is another conundrum to come to grips with, requiring all his faculties in full working order.

It is a lovely effort, this movie, taking us deep into the soul of a man – one initially appearing to be tiring of earthly existence, without too many of the deeper feelings for his fellow beings. But as the film peels away his outer layers, we find a humanity that most modern takes on Sherlock Holmes lack and therefore this leaves them well in its wake. It was a little tedious around its narrative edge – but at no stage was I in any danger of falling asleep.

Official website = http://www.mrholmesfilm.com/