A few grateful words, on my 200th post.

I have nothing else this week to write about, so now that I've reached 200 posts, all being my own work, I just want to say a massive, sincere, thank you to my whole audience here, however few of you there may be. I consciously try hard to ensure none of my posts are even about filler shit, and I hope that's evident each week. Stay tuned for heaps more reviews, commentary and of me trying way too hard and often to be funny. I love you all.

Something Cult, Foreign-Language or Indie #80: Pan's Labyrinth (2006).

Eleven years before he swept to Oscar glory with, of all things, a tale of a mute woman fucking a carnivorous sea creature with last year's mesmerising The Shape of Water and before that took us around the Pacific Rim (though I won't hold that last one against him), Guillermo del Toro took us back to 1944 Spain with his rightly celebrated dark fantasy drama Pan's Labyrinth. It follows young Ofelia (Ivana Baquero), who moves with her mother Carmen (Ariadna Gil) to the countryside to live with her stepfather Vidal (Sergi Lopez), a despotic captain in Franco's army. Bored with the scenery and fearful of Vidal's cruel dominance, Ofelia goes exploring in the nearby woods where she encounters a strange labyrinth which is home to a magical faun named Pan (Doug Jones, later the fish-man in The Shape of Water). He tells her she is really the long-lost princess of a fantastical kingdom, but while encouraging of her, Pan is not exactly a warm and cuddly sage. To help her uncover the truth of her existence, he sets for Ofelia three increasingly precarious tasks involving an overgrown toad, a Pale Man (Jones again), and her baby half-brother. Meanwhile, domestically she must also endure Vidal's deteriorating relationships with her, his troops and his cowed, conspiring housekeeper (Maribel Verdu).

I've always found Pan's Labyrinth a rather dichotomous film with its intertwined storylines set in two different zones, but that's just why it's such an original and ambitious fantasy gem. Del Toro pulls it off because as Ofelia explores the labyrinth, he explores very lucidly how and why metaphors work. In chronicling how the labyrinth goes from a heavenly escape for Ofelia to somewhere as dark and trying as life under the war and Vidal's thumb, the movie ultimately becomes a very profound and thought-provoking take on imagination and the end of innocence.

Although nominated for 2006's Best Foreign Language Film Oscar (it lost to the overrated German film The Lives of Others), Pan's Labyrinth did, however, win for Art Direction, Cinematography and Make-Up, all of which were richly deserved, and del Toro was also nominated for his screenplay. He coaxes an affecting performance from Verdu and Lopez makes a icily charismatic villain, but carrying the movie so gracefully on her tiny shoulders is Ivana Baquero. Going from quiet bookishness to astonishment and then terror and eventual grief, she makes Ofelia a child heroine in whose shoes you can easily put yourself, and I wonder whatever has happened to her. Another plus is Javier Navarrette's exquisite score, and the visual effects are outstanding for a low-budget, non-Hollywood effort. Its heroine might have complete three hard tasks, but loving Pan's Labyrinth is one very easy one.

Money doesn't buy happiness, but it remains something.

This week, one of Australia's richest people, James Packer, was confirmed to be experiencing a mental health crisis. Having struggled with mental health since adolescence that naturally caught my attention, and despite his billionaire status I am sympathetic for him. His case also reinforces how mental ill-health doesn't discriminate. But simultaneously it should remind us, including him, to remember and appreciate our blessings, whatever our current mood.

James faces public scrutiny from every corner, and his ill-fated recent personal relationships, most obviously with Mariah Carey, have been media fodder here and internationally. He also did not choose his life; he was born into wealth. But therefore, I hope he recognises that he never had to work to be affluent, as most of the rest of us have to work to survive. He also has far more of a conscience than our richest woman, whose father, unlike his, was an extreme racist with another children whom he never acknowledged. However, his great wealth in the face of his demons is no excuse for the media not to respect his and his family's privacy.

I sincerely hope he weathers this storm, and I have never had anything against him personally. I'd also love to see him use this ordeal of his to increase awareness for mental health initiatives. But this episode of Mr. Packer's should be a cautionary tale to everybody, most of all his fellow rich suits: remember, and appreciate, your blessings. Because money mightn't buy everything, but it's heaps more than many of us have.

Something Cult, Foreign-Language or Indie #79: Detroit Rock City (1999).

Firstly, I apologise for the fucking massive image there. It's 1978 in Detroit, Michigan and high schoolers Hawk (Eddie Furlong), Jam (Sam Huntington), Lex (Giuseppe Andrews) and Trip (James DeBello) are evangelists for all things KISS. They even have their own (embarrassing) KISS tribute band, Mystery. They've missed out on seeing their heroes live for two years running and have just one sleep left until that changes. But out to stop them is Jam's chain-smoking, hardcore Christian mum (Lin Shaye, aka Cameron Diaz's older housemate Magda from There's Something About Mary), who considers KISS agents of Satan, finds the boys' tickets in his jeans at home while he's at school and then shows up to burn them in his presence. After she then drives him upstate to a religious boarding school, Hawk, Lex and Trip follow them there to bust him out and return to Detroit. Now, they're willing to do absolutely anything to finally see KISS in the flesh, from stripping in a disco club to robbing a convenience store and even serving a particularly exotic pizza to a priest.

As an enormous fan of classic rock and especially KISS since my teens, I really don't know why I've not reviewed Detroit Rock City (named after a KISS hit) here until now. I should also stress that unless you are a classic rock addict (or, let's face it, a bogan) this will probably alienate you, but that's the exact definition of a cult movie: one which appeals at least primarily to a specific subculture or niche. Anyway, Detroit Rock City is so good because it's every bit as unrefined, unself-conscious, tongue-in-cheek and fast-paced as KISS and their music. Director Adam Rifkin and writer Carl V. Dupre so infectiously evoke the zeitgeist of 1978 not just through the story's main focus but in the references to other '70s fads and trends, especially the rock versus disco feud (which comes to the fore through Christine (Natasha Lyonne), a disco groupie the guys reluctant pick up en route to Detroit). They also keep a good grip on the energy and pace to keep us up with the gang's deadline, and Rifkin coaxes very natural performances from his whole cast, with Shaye particularly having a ball. SPOILER ALERT: I wish, though, that we could've had a celebratory conclusion with the boys heading home triumphantly from the show.

Again, you mightn't find much meat to chew on here if you're not into classic rock, or even road movies. But if you are, like me, to paraphrase the song, you've gotta lose your mind in Detroit Rock City.

As America's students walk out against guns...

This week, following the horrifying events in Parkland, Florida, high schoolers across the US have led marches on state and federal offices, including the Capitol, demanding stricter gun laws. I consider this a good sign for the near future, even if gun violence is thankfully a far smaller problem here in Oz. Student protests like these can help combat the persistent stereotypes of youth as being superficial, selfish and indifferent to political issues, and when they objectively take a stand against problems which have become personal to them, they show maturity and guts beyond their years. Compare that with how, also this week, their president fired (no pun intended) somebody in a fucking Tweet, instead of in person.

Of course, by staging these protests, these kids are sacrificing their own learning time. And you go to school for that, not to be shot. But how can anyone learn if they are shot? I may have already mentioned this in another post, but I remember, at age 10, after the Columbine massacre in 1999, my Year 6 teachers sat us all down and had a very pointed talk with us about it. They approached it delicately and described it as best they could for such a young audience, but they must've come to work quite scared that day.

All these kids marching have me with them in spirit, and again they make me optimistic. It seems like, after Sandy Hook, Virginia Tech and the rest, America's youth have finally snapped and been stirred into peaceful action to end the carnage. Whether you're a leftie or a rightie, anybody can get radical from the safety of behind a screen, but to react as these student have is heaps more daring and sincere.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxD3o-9H1lY

Several weeks ago, Parkland survivor Emma Gonzalez gave this speech to Trump and the NRA which went viral and just devastated me. In it she repeatedly quotes pro-gun claims from US pollies (Republicans and Democrats) before shouting "We call BS!" I imagine all these kids fighting to end the violence now would dare you to say that to them.

An Aspie on (The) Good Doctor.

With my diagnosis of Asperger's syndrome, I'm intrigued to watch practically any movie etc. about autism, and so after coming to enjoy the new US TV medical drama The Good Doctor, I've also begun its 2013 South Korean predecessor, simply titled Good Doctor, on YouTube. Both are consistently well-made and can stand on their own. But how do they do that, and how accurately does each portray people with ASDs?

Good Doctor's protagonist is Dr. Park Si On (Joo Won); THE Good Doctor's is Dr. Shaun Murphy (Freddie Highmore). Both are resident surgeons who behave similarly in each episode, reflecting the need many autists have for a lifestyle of strict routine. Both shows go about inspiring sympathy for their heroes differently (in GD we see less of Park Si On's childhood but his colleagues' antagonism towards him is more pronounced) despite the US version copying many scenes from the original. Both also have the lead falling for his main female colleague and displaying kind but mechanical bedside manner; but Shaun is more inquisitive and serious than Park Si On (who in one episode even tries to amuse a boy in a park by pulling a face but instead scares him). The US version has also had an episode with a transgender patient which proved controversial because Shaun insists, initially, on using what he considers the biologically accurate pronouns.

Nonetheless, I really like each version both as TV and depictions of autism. Both show it honestly and sensitively through their protagonists' eyes, and I think the makers of each (the US one's showrunner is actually David Shore, who created House which I almost never missed) consciously try to just get the essence of autism and not everybody's experience with it. Countless films and shows have tried to do that and failed. But to my Aspie mind, these Good Doctors both get it just right.

Something Cult, Foreign-Language or Indie #78: Empire Records (1995).

Somewhere in downtown LA, Empire Records is an independent, alternative music store run by Joe (Anthony LaPaglia), with the help of a bunch of young slackers, metalheads and hopeless romantics. Key among them is philosophising Lucas (Rory Cochrane), who falls out of Joe's favour after losing some of the store's money one night during a gambling trip to Atlantic City. Now they face closing down or joining the mainstream Musictown chain, on the day when they're holding a signing for has-been New Wave singer Rex Manning (Maxwell Caulfield).

On the surface, Empire Records has clearly (if inevitably) dated. With online music services supplanting retail record stores now and just generally changing tastes there, it easily harkens back to 1995. But establishments like its setting have not died, nor the characters you can find in them as here. Empire Records is an ensemble piece, and its characters' dynamics, conflicts and aspirations are just as realistic and relatable now. Under Allan Moyle's easygoing direction the cast (who mostly went on to bigger and better things, namely Renee Zellweger, Liv Tyler and LaPaglia) all give hip, effervescent turns from Carol Heikkinen's natural and nicely balanced script. There's also a ripper soundtrack.

Aesthetically, again Empire Records is clearly a product of the 1990s. But spiritually it holds up 23 years later very well. You'll finish it as quite a satisfied customer. 

Something Cult, Foreign-Language or Indie #77: The Player (1992).

Before he served life in The Shawshank Redemption, directed a story of a Dead Man Walking and won an Oscar as a child abuse survivor in Mystic River, a slick Tim Robbins was upcoming Hollywood studio executive Griffin Mill. Griffin spends his days sifting through one derivative pitch after another and staving off threats from a particularly upset, rejected screenwriter. Then one night after being ambushed, he accidentally murders one writer he ignored: David Kahane (Vincent D'Onofrio). Now before the media turns this tragedy into a circus, Griffin must do everything he can to save his own life and career. In the process, he negotiates with a disagreeable LA police consultant (Whoopi Goldberg at her sassy best), shacks up with Kahane's widow June (Greta Scacchi) and, in an ironic twist of fate, finds himself involved in the studio's production of a murder trial drama directed by a passionately non-mainstream Englishman (Richard E. Grant). But will he get away with murder? And who involved in making the movie will have their way?

The Player was a successful comeback for director Robert Altman after his huge 1980 bomb Popeye, and he gets deeper under the veil and skins of Hollywood than maybe any other filmmaker has. Working from Michael Tolkin's incisive and knowing adaptation of his own novel and maybe even his own experiences in Tinseltown during those hard years, Altman's approach is merciless and he paces it throughout with real assurance and awareness. He also, quite fittingly, uses stylised editing and an ominous score to reflect how show business can prioritise superficiality and deliberately dispose of trends and stars as quickly as it produces them. This wise technique makes the movie's openly cynical tone and messages even more entertainingly conveyed, and Altman and Tolkin were both nominated for Oscars.

And like practically every Altman work, The Player has an enormous cast, bursting at the seams with surprising cameos featuring everybody from Susan Sarandon to Burt Reynolds, all of them taking two big risks here. Robbins deservedly won the Cannes Film Festival Best Actor gong for his icily charming work as Mill, but there's not a false note to be seen among of the cast here. You'll finish The Player wondering quite how it ever got made (Hollywood has surely never been satirised so scathingly), but it was made, and brilliantly so, and it's arguably more relevant today than in 1992.

My top 10 flicks of 2017.

Now that I've seen all the major releases and awards contenders from 2017 that interested me, I present to my cream of last year's cinematic crop.

10-1:

While I found it slightly uneven and less suspenseful than The Force Awakens, Rian Johnson (only the second person to individually write and direct a Star Wars movie) took us on a profound and affectionate ride through previously uncharted regions of the galaxy for a result that was nonetheless worthy of the name Star Wars, and a fitting swansong for Carrie Fisher (RIP).

Probably the most surprising entry here, as I never actually liked the 1991 version that much. But director Bill Condon and writers Stephen Chbosky and Evan Spiliotopoulos infuse their live-action remake with such clever wit, rollicking action, crisp visuals (the Be Our Guest scene is especially dazzling) and unabashed romantic passion that it bowled me over with a strike. Not bad for a tale as old as time.

Based on Sui Ishida's massively popular manga, director Kentaro Hagiwara's Tokyo Ghoul is a deliciously dark and bloodthirsty experience even by Japanese standards. But what raises it above most of its brethren is a sincere effort to develop and make us identify with its characters, particularly of course Masataka Kubota's conflicted protagonist Ken Kaneki. A slick and grippingly ghoulish treat.

If any 2017 movie gave me cognitive dissonance before its release, this was it. Blade Runner is unquestionably one of my all-time favourites. I was especially torn as that was 35 years earlier and I had never liked Ryan Gosling in action roles, but I had no reason to be unsure as I was riveted for the whole two-and-three-quarter hours. While it inevitably fell short of its predecessor, Denis Villeneuve superbly invokes the visual and thematic mood and spirit of that landmark film with solid photography, effects and music, and his cast all rise to the challenge to deliver a thoroughly confident, exciting and thought-provoking sequel.

Another surprising choice here, as rom-coms are very hit-and-miss for me. But thanks to Emily V. Gordon's and Kumail Nanjiani's hilarious and observant semi-autobiographical screenplay, Michael Showalter's lucid direction and terrific performances across the board (especially Holly Hunter), The Big Sick turns nearly the whole genre on its head and becomes a very wise meditation on human mortality and connection (particularly the interracial kind). It charmed my socks off.

Now this one was destined to be controversial and divisive based its subject alone. Aussie director Craig Gillespie and writer Steven Rogers mostly don't bother trying to tell us anything we didn't already know about Tonya Harding and her horrible inner circle, but somehow they get away with making us understand why they did what they did. Thanks to vivid cinematography and editing, a ripper classic rock soundtrack and three explosive central performances, I, Tonya skates its way onto the podium here. Just don't have anybody assaulted with a metal bar after seeing it.

Yes, a second rom-com! And this one was drawn from the star's own life, too. Under Jeffrey Walker's imaginative direction and Andrew Knight's and Osamah Sami's hilarious and resonant screenplay, Ali's Wedding is a fabulously entertaining and non-stereotypical portrait of modern Muslim Australian life with a totally adorable cast, but as an atheist I can confirm you don't have to be a believer for this one. Coming home from it, I could not wipe the smile off my face. It could be our best rom-com since Muriel's Wedding.

After 13 Oscar nominations, I had to fight hard to suppress my expectations for this one; indeed I waited to see it this week before compiling this list. But while I can't help but compare it to a considerably more explicit, Cold War-set version of Edward Scissorhands, Guillermo del Toro's film still cuts one hell of a distinctive impression, and with its own voice. He harnesses truly exquisite cinematography, editing and period design to make this brilliantly metaphorical fantasy romance tug at the heart-strings, Alexandre Desplat offers a heart-pounding score and Sally Hawkins gives arguably 2017's finest screen performance, with flawless support from Richard Jenkins, Octavia Spencer, Michael Shannon and Michael Stuhlbarg. The Shape of Water is breathtaking.

Unless another Aussie filmmaker can turn water into wine this year, I'm expecting this Western to win the 2018 Best Film AACTA Award by the length of the Bass Strait. Inspired (sadly) by true events, Sweet Country takes us back to the Northern Territory in 1929 where Aboriginal farmer Sam Kelly (Hamilton Morris) and his wife become fugitives after he kills his abusive, racist white landlord (Ewen Leslie) in self-defence, with the help of a local preacher (Sam Neill) but also the massively corrupt local sheriff (Bryan Brown in one of his best performances) in hot pursuit. Indigenous director Warwick Thornton took his time in choosing a follow-up to his rightly celebrated 2009 debut Samson and Delilah, and here he proves that was no fluke. Before this I'd only ever enjoyed three Westerns in my life (Unforgiven, Django Unchained and The Hateful Eight), but Sweet Country is so strikingly shot and ferociously raw and powerful that it will immediately grab you by the neck and never loosen its grip. And its message is equally important now. A high watermark for contemporary Aussie cinema.

But no movie from 2017 charmed, amused, moved or even surprised me as much as Coco, Disney Pixar's wondrous take on Mexico's iconic Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) festival through the history of a family believed to be cursed by music. Maybe this was an inevitable pick for me, as DP already walked on water to me (look at that, Jesus references in two consecutive reviews - and I'm meant to be an atheist!), but this is surely spookier than anything they've done before, perhaps in keeping with the subject matter. Director Lee Unkrich and his whole gifted cast and crew pack this dazzler with enough laughs, visual accuracy, richly-developed characters, emotional weight and respect for Mexican culture to make it almost miraculous. God, I sobbed like a newborn in several scenes. Its main song may be called Remember Me but I assure you you will remember everything about Coco. It is an instant classic on every level.