A CHRISTMAS CAROL BY CHARLES DICKENS (2025)

It’s Christmas Eve and Ebenezer Scrooge is counting down the seconds until the silliness of the season passes. Deeply entrenched in his own misery, Scrooge is visited by four ghosts who take him through Christmases past, present and future. Redemption is his for the taking,  but is Old Scrooge capable of changing his ways before it’s too late? 

Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol is one of the most enduring Christmas stories of all time, a tale that has been adapted countless times across stage, screen, and radio. Its universal themes of redemption, generosity, and the rediscovery of joy make it a perennial favorite. Shake & Stir Theatre Co’s recent production, adapted by Nelle Lee and directed by Michael Futcher, demonstrates how a company can achieve a great deal with limited resources, crafting a show that is both immersive and heartfelt. While not flawless, it succeeds in capturing the essence of Dickens’s story and leaves its audience smiling.

The creative team behind the show deserves recognition for their ability to conjure Victorian England with ingenuity. Designer Josh McIntosh’s set is a clever arrangement of 3D pieces that interlock in various patterns, allowing the cast to move fluidly across and above the stage. This modular approach creates a dynamic environment that shifts seamlessly from Scrooge’s counting house to the bustling streets of London, and from intimate domestic interiors to the eerie landscapes of the spirit world. At times, particularly on the upper levels, the sets appear a little wobbly, but the overall effect is convincing and engaging.

The immersive quality of the production is heightened by Craig Wilkinson’s video design, Jason Glenwright’s lighting, and Guy Webster’s sound. Smoke, haze, and projections combine to create a three-dimensional experience that feels larger than the stage itself. The audience is drawn into a world where portraits come alive, spirits materialize from thin air, and Scrooge is whisked through time. The occasional hammy flourish is present, but rather than detracting, it adds to the playful theatricality of the piece. This is a production that embraces spectacle without losing sight of its story.

Costumes, too, play a vital role. Lavish and carefully detailed, they allow the supporting cast to shift between multiple roles without confusion. The outfits provide clear visual cues that prevent the actors from needing to exaggerate their performances, keeping the tone balanced between realism and theatricality. Composer Salliana Campbell’s score, performed live by musician Tabea Sitte, adds warmth and texture, underscoring both the festive cheer and the darker moments of Scrooge’s journey.

The cast of nine (ten if you count the presence of Tiny Tim) demonstrates versatility and commitment. Eugene Gilfedder, as Ebenezer Scrooge, is the only actor assigned a single role. He leans into the character’s senility and mania, with a twinkle in his eye that suggests both miserliness and eccentricity. His performance is entertaining, though it risks becoming caricatured and one-note by the end. The transformation of Scrooge from miser to benefactor, the emotional core of the story, feels somewhat rushed. Gilfedder’s change of heart is not as convincing as it could be, particularly in the scenes with the spirits of Christmas Past and Future. More engagement in these moments would have lent greater depth and made the redemption arc feel more earned. That said, his scenes involving his former flame are poignant and well handled, offering glimpses of the vulnerability beneath the bluster.

The supporting cast compensates for these shortcomings with energy and skill. Bryan Probets is particularly entertaining in his multiple spirit roles, breaking the fourth wall to draw the audience into the action. His playful interactions add humor and immersion, ensuring that the supernatural elements feel accessible rather than alienating. Nelle Lee, Mia Milnes, Ross Balbuziente, Nick Skubij, Lucas Stibbard, and Tabea Sitte all move seamlessly between roles, embodying family members, children, community figures, and even musical performers. Their ability to interchange swiftly, aided by costumes and props, exemplifies the production’s ethos of doing a lot from a little.

The ensemble’s smiles and warmth are infectious. Even when the joy feels slightly hammy, it conveys resilience and strength, reminding us that happiness can be found despite hardship. This is particularly effective in scenes depicting poverty-stricken communities, where the cast’s energy transforms bleak circumstances into moments of shared joy. The message of community and generosity shines through.

Shake & Stir Theatre Co advertises the production as suitable for the whole family, but it is best recommended for audiences aged ten and above. The third act, featuring the spirit of Christmas Yet to Come, introduces horror elements that may unsettle younger children. These moments, however, are integral to the story’s moral arc, and the production handles them with care, balancing fright with theatrical flair.

The overall tone is one of joy and celebration. The creative team and cast succeed in portraying the happiness that comes with the Christmas spirit. The audience is invited to rediscover the resilience of joy, the strength of community, and the possibility of redemption. While some character development could have been more organic, the production’s heart is in the right place, and its sincerity is undeniable.

The greatest strength of this production lies in its resourcefulness. Local Australasian theatre often demonstrates how to get mileage from limited means, and this show is no exception. Sets are reused and transformed, props become characters, and visual gags repeat to delightful effect. The lighting and video design draw the eye away at just the right moments, allowing the cast to reset the stage without breaking immersion. This ingenuity creates a world much wider than the physical stage, proving that creativity can overcome constraints.

The weakness, as noted, is in the depth of character development. Scrooge’s transformation, the emotional climax of the story, feels somewhat underdeveloped. While the supporting cast provides strong performances, the central arc could have been more nuanced. A deeper exploration of Scrooge and more engagement or responsiveness with the spirits' journeys would have made his redemption feel more earned. This does not ruin the production, but it prevents it from reaching the highest level of emotional impact.

Shake & Stir Theatre Co’s A Christmas Carol is a competent and well executed production that achieves much with modest means. Through clever design, versatile performances, and a commitment to joy, it brings Dickens’s story to life in a way that is immersive and entertaining. While some aspects of character development could have been more involved, the overall effect is one of warmth and celebration. The audience leaves with smiles on their faces, reminded of the enduring power of generosity and community.

This is a show that demonstrates the resilience of theatre itself. By embracing creativity and resourcefulness, it proves that even familiar stories can feel fresh and engaging. It may not be perfect, but it captures the spirit of Christmas with sincerity and charm. Very enjoyable indeed.

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens is being performed from December 2-7 at Auckland's The Civic. Tickets can be purchased here

Content Warning: This production contains supernatural themes, haze, smoke, strobe effects and loud music.

Review written by Alex Moulton

QUEER (2024)

In 1950s Mexico City, an American immigrant in his late forties leads a solitary life amidst a small American community. However, the arrival of a young student stirs the man into finally establishing a meaningful connection with someone.

Luca Guadagnino’s Queer is an evocative yet uncertain adaptation of William S. Burroughs’ semi-autobiographical novel. It is a film that captures the raw emotions and alienation at the heart of its source material but struggles with cohesion, often feeling like a series of fragmented vignettes rather than a fully formed narrative. While it boasts stunning cinematography, a deeply immersive atmosphere, and a striking lead performance from Daniel Craig, Queer ultimately falls into an ambiguous space—partly an exploration of desire and addiction, partly a surreal fever dream, but never quite a satisfying whole.

Set in post-war Mexico City, Queer follows William Lee (Daniel Craig), a self-destructive expatriate wrestling with addiction, isolation, and an unreciprocated obsession with the enigmatic Allerton (Drew Starkey). Lee, a stand-in for Burroughs himself, is a character defined by yearning—an outsider looking in, unable to bridge the emotional gap between himself and the object of his affections. Guadagnino excels in capturing this alienation, making the city feel at once vibrant and suffocating, a backdrop for Lee’s spiraling descent into self-loathing and delusion.

However, the film struggles to give this longing a clear emotional arc. Lee’s infatuation with Allerton is evident, but the film keeps their dynamic at arm’s length, rarely allowing for the deeper psychological exploration that might have elevated their interactions beyond surface-level tension. Instead, Queer drifts between scenes of desire, rejection, and hazy self-destruction, painting a compelling mood but never fully engaging with the deeper existential questions raised by Burroughs’ writing.

Craig’s portrayal of Lee is a departure from his usual roles, showcasing a raw, stripped-down performance that anchors the film. He fully embodies Lee’s instability, delivering a character who is both pathetic and painfully relatable. His erratic energy, shifting between desperate charm and simmering rage, makes him an engrossing presence, even when the script doesn’t quite know what to do with him.

Drew Starkey’s Allerton, however, remains something of an enigma. The film, like the novel, presents him more as an idea than a fully developed character—an object of obsession rather than a person in his own right. This lack of depth makes it difficult to fully invest in the relationship at the story’s core. While this may be intentional, highlighting the asymmetry of their connection, it also leaves much of the film feeling emotionally hollow.

One of Queer’s greatest strengths is its visual and atmospheric richness. Guadagnino, alongside cinematographer Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, crafts a world that is both dreamlike and tactile. The film’s Mexico City is a landscape of smoke-filled bars, sun-drenched streets, and dimly lit rooms steeped in loneliness. Every frame is meticulously composed, evoking a sense of timelessness that enhances the film’s melancholic tone.

However, while Queer is visually captivating, its storytelling is less assured. Guadagnino has never been a director particularly concerned with traditional narrative structures, but here, the lack of cohesion feels more like an oversight than an artistic choice. The film drifts between moments of surrealism and grounded drama, sometimes to great effect, but often at the expense of narrative clarity. The final act, in particular, leans into abstraction in a way that feels less like an intentional crescendo and more like an unraveling of the story’s already tenuous structure.

Queer resists conventional storytelling. Guadagnino seems caught between honoring the fragmented nature of the source material and trying to shape it into something more traditionally cinematic. The result is a film that often feels unsure of itself—committed to Burroughs’ themes but hesitant to fully embrace his chaotic, free-associative style. Queer occupies an in-between space. It captures the mood and essence of Burroughs’ world but never fully commits to either realism or abstraction. This hesitancy makes the film feel oddly restrained, as if it is holding back from diving into the true depths of its protagonist’s psyche.

The film’s sound design and score further enhance its hypnotic, immersive quality. Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross provide a haunting soundtrack that oscillates between jazz-infused melancholy and eerie electronic pulses, underscoring the film’s shifting tones. The use of ambient noise—whispered conversations, the hum of neon signs, the distant echoes of the city—adds to the sense of isolation and disorientation that permeates the film.

Yet, while the film’s sonic landscape is beautifully crafted, it sometimes feels more effective at setting a mood than driving the story forward. Like much of Queer, the music and sound design contribute to an overall aesthetic experience rather than a tightly woven narrative.

Queer is an undeniably beautiful and emotionally raw film, but it remains frustratingly elusive in its storytelling. Guadagnino has crafted a visually stunning meditation on alienation, longing, and self-destruction, yet the film never quite finds its footing in terms of narrative clarity. Daniel Craig delivers one of his most vulnerable performances, elevating the film even when the script falters. However, the lack of a strong emotional arc and the fragmented nature of the storytelling prevent Queer from being as powerful as it could have been.

For those willing to embrace its dreamlike pacing and elliptical structure, Queer offers a haunting, melancholic experience. But for those looking for a film that fully engages with Burroughs’ themes in a cohesive and impactful way, it may feel like an incomplete exploration—compelling in moments but ultimately uncertain of how to translate its source material’s complexity into cinematic form.

Queer is coming to Aotearoa NZ cinemas April 3, 2025

Runtime: 136 minutes
Classification: TBC

FIREBRAND (2023)

Katherine Parr, the sixth wife of King Henry VIII, is named regent while the tyrant battles abroad. When the king returns, increasingly ill and paranoid, Katherine finds herself fighting for her own survival.

Katherine Parr, the sixth and final wife of Henry VIII, has long been overshadowed by her more infamous predecessors. Despite her survival in a court filled with political intrigue and peril, she has rarely been given the same level of attention in historical dramas. Firebrand, directed by Karim Aïnouz and adapted from Elizabeth Fremantle's novel "The Queen's Gambit," attempts to correct this oversight by offering a dramatic reimagining of her story. However, while the film sets the stage for a bold revisionist take, it often struggles to fully capitalise on its premise, leaving audiences with an uneven but occasionally gripping historical drama.

At its core, Firebrand presents Katherine Parr (Alicia Vikander) as a woman attempting to navigate a treacherous political landscape while advocating for religious reform. The film introduces her as a figure of quiet strength, committed to her beliefs and determined to make a difference from within the system. Her alliance with radical Protestant preacher Anne Askew (Erin Doherty) underscores her willingness to push against the rigid structures of power, even as the threat of execution looms over her. Yet, despite the film’s attempts to frame her as a revolutionary force, Katherine's agency often feels diminished, with events largely happening to her rather than being driven by her actions.

The script, penned by Jessica and Henrietta Ashworth, amplifies Katherine's defiance by portraying her efforts to reintroduce the English Bible during her brief tenure as regent while Henry VIII is away at war. This sets up an ideological struggle between Katherine’s cautious reformist stance and Askew’s more radical approach. Katherine believes she can sway the King’s perspective, insisting that "he listens to me." However, her faith in her influence over Henry is ultimately misplaced, as the film makes it clear that his temperament is unpredictable and his paranoia ever-growing.

Central to the film’s narrative is Jude Law’s portrayal of Henry VIII, a performance so commanding that it often overshadows everything else. Law transforms into the ailing monarch, capturing his physical and moral decay with unsettling realism. Beneath layers of prosthetics and an imposing frame, he conveys the volatility of a ruler whose favour can turn to fury in an instant. His Henry is grotesque yet charismatic, embodying the unchecked power and entitlement of a man who sees himself as divinely ordained. His presence dominates the screen, and as a result, much of the film’s tension hinges on his unpredictable moods.

In contrast, Alicia Vikander delivers a measured and restrained performance as Katherine. While she convincingly portrays her as a woman of intellect and conviction, her stoic approach sometimes struggles to match Law’s overpowering energy. Their scenes together highlight this imbalance—while Law’s Henry is a force of nature, Vikander’s Katherine often feels reactive rather than proactive. This contrast, while perhaps intentional, results in a protagonist who is difficult to fully connect with. Instead of feeling like an active agent of change, she often appears to be simply surviving the ordeal of her marriage.

Visually, Firebrand is stunning, with cinematographer Hélène Louvart capturing the richness and texture of Tudor-era England. The naturalistic lighting and muted colour palette lend the film a grounded, immersive quality. Costumes by Michael O’Connor are equally impressive, providing a tangible sense of the period’s opulence and rigidity. The film effectively conveys the suffocating atmosphere of the court, where even the grandest feasts can suddenly turn into scenes of horror depending on the King’s whims.

Despite its strong performances and evocative visuals, Firebrand struggles with pacing and focus. The screenplay juggles multiple narrative threads, including Katherine’s relationship with Askew, her precarious position in court, and the overarching religious tensions of the era. However, rather than weaving these elements into a cohesive whole, the film often feels uncertain about its central theme. Is it a feminist reimagining of Katherine’s story? A political thriller? A psychological portrait of a tyrant’s final days? By trying to be all these things at once, it occasionally loses its momentum.

The film’s opening title card suggests a bold retelling of history, stating, "History tells us a few things, mostly about men and war. For the rest of humanity, we must draw our own, often wild, conclusions." This introduction promises an audacious approach, but the film ultimately plays it safer than expected. While the climax takes significant liberties with historical accuracy, much of the film remains restrained, never fully embracing the radical energy hinted at in its premise.

Where Firebrand truly excels is in its depiction of the dangers of life under Henry’s rule. The ever-present threat of execution looms over every conversation, and the casual recitation of names of those who have been sentenced to death is chilling. The film highlights the precarious balance Katherine must maintain—too outspoken, and she risks being accused of heresy; too passive, and she loses the ability to protect herself and those she cares about. Her friendship with Askew is particularly fraught, as it becomes clear that any association with radical thought can be used as evidence against her.

Jude Law’s performance elevates the film significantly, providing the tension and unpredictability that drive many of its most compelling moments. His portrayal of Henry as a decaying, paranoid ruler is both grotesque and fascinating, capturing the contradictions of a man who sees himself as an immortal leader even as his body betrays him. His ability to shift from jovial to terrifying within a single scene keeps the audience on edge, reinforcing the sense that no one in his court is truly safe.

Unfortunately, Vikander’s Katherine, while dignified and intelligent, never fully commands the screen in the same way. Her character is written as a woman of great inner strength, but the script does not give her enough decisive moments to assert her presence against Henry. This is particularly noticeable in their confrontations—while Henry is loud, menacing, and physically imposing, Katherine’s resistance is mostly internal, making it difficult to translate into a cinematic experience that feels equally impactful.

Ultimately, Firebrand is a film with much promise but inconsistent execution. It offers a visually rich and well-acted portrayal of Katherine Parr’s struggles, yet it never fully commits to making her the compelling, dynamic lead she deserves to be. Jude Law’s mesmerizing performance as Henry VIII often steals the show, leaving Vikander’s Katherine feeling somewhat overshadowed. While the film successfully captures the tension and fear of life in Henry’s court, it falls short of delivering a truly groundbreaking retelling of Katherine’s story.

For those drawn to historical dramas, Firebrand provides an engaging, if uneven, experience. Its strongest moments come from the oppressive atmosphere of the Tudor court and Law’s unnerving portrayal of Henry VIII. However, those expecting a truly radical reinterpretation of Katherine Parr’s life may find themselves wishing the film had taken even bolder steps. In the end, Firebrand is a film that, much like its protagonist, survives—but never quite thrives.

Firebrand will be in selected NZ cinemas from March 13, 2025

RICHARD III (AUCKLAND SHAKESPEARE IN THE PARK 2025)

In this adaptation, Richard III is reimagined as a gritty family gang drama set in the late 1940s, bringing Shakespeare’s tale of ambition and betrayal into the seedy, dangerous world of post-war London’s gang culture.

The Shoreside Theatre Inc. has breathed new life into Richard III, offering Auckland audiences a vibrant, modernised rendition of Shakespeare's classic tale of ambition, manipulation, and downfall. This year’s production, directed by Cath Boniface, is set in the gritty underworld of 1940s gangland London, replacing traditional English courtly attire with pinstripe suits, fedoras, and trench coats. While the timeline and aesthetic have shifted, the essence of the play—the ruthless rise and ultimate fall of Richard, Duke of Gloucester—remains intact, offering an exciting and refreshing perspective on the timeless tragedy.

Set against the backdrop of a post-Wars of the Roses England, Shakespeare’s Richard III examines the devastating cost of power at any price. Boniface’s modern interpretation cleverly parallels the political machinations of Richard’s rise with modern-day struggles for power. In this gangland version, the towers, princes, and lords of medieval England remain intact but are reimagined as gangsters, crime bosses, and underlings. While this adaptation largely keeps to the original script, it still feels relevant, with Richard’s silver tongue and unbridled ambition mirroring contemporary global political struggles.

As Boniface noted, "If you’re looking at the plot of Richard III, it’s about a man who wants to be in power at all costs but shouldn’t be in power at all." This statement resonates powerfully as the audience watches Richard weave his web of deceit, turning friends and family into enemies in his relentless pursuit of the throne. The parallels with modern leadership struggles add layers of poignancy and depth, making the production feel fresh and compelling.

Queen Elizabeth (Meg Andrews) & Richard III (Chris Raven)

The quaint, open-air PumpHouse Theatre provides the perfect setting for this immersive production. With minimal props and clever use of the venue’s natural features, including its balconies and terraced seating, the production draws the audience into Richard’s sinister world. The actors frequently break the fourth wall, engaging directly with the audience to plead their cases, seek approval, or reveal their darkest desires. These moments of connection are not only a staple of Richard III but also some of the most captivating parts of this performance, as they bring Shakespeare’s characters to life in a relatable and human way.

While the outdoor venue adds charm, it also presents challenges. The actors, unamplified by microphones, must project their voices to compete with the ambient sounds of the surrounding area—including the occasional squawking of geese. This demand adds an extra layer of skill to the performances, and the cast rises admirably to the occasion, ensuring every word is heard.

The 1940s gangland aesthetic is a bold choice that works well to modernise the play, even if it doesn't fully reimagine Shakespeare’s setting. The costumes, featuring sharp suits and period-appropriate attire, effectively situate the story in the seedy underbelly of wartime London. However, outside of the visual elements, the adaptation doesn’t push as far as it could into the gangster milieu. The structure of kings, princes, and lords is left largely unchanged, which feels like a missed opportunity to fully embrace the new timeline.

That said, there are some delightful modern touches. For example, news of events is spread via a paperboy, whose cries add authenticity to the 1940s setting. Projected visuals and slow-motion fight sequences further enhance the production, lending a cinematic quality to key moments. Supernatural elements, such as the haunting of Richard by his victims, are also cleverly portrayed using projections, adding an eerie, otherworldly feel to these scenes.

The cast delivers strong performances across the board, with the lead actor’s portrayal of Richard standing out as a highlight. While this Richard is not as physically deformed as the traditional depiction, his charm, wit, and ruthless ambition are more than enough to establish his villainy. His interactions with the audience are especially effective, drawing viewers into his schemes and making them complicit in his rise to power. This subtle manipulation mirrors Richard’s treatment of those around him, adding an extra layer of depth to the character.

Richard III (Chris Raven)

With a runtime of 2.5 hours, plus a half-hour intermission, Richard III is undeniably a long play. However, the production team does an excellent job of maintaining a swift pace. Scenes flow seamlessly, with actors exiting stage left as the next scene begins stage right. The use of multiple entry points around the venue adds to the fluidity, creating a dynamic and engaging experience.

The intermission is timed strategically, and held off as long as possible to reduce the remaining runtime after the break. While this decision helps to keep the post-intermission content brief, it does create a slight sense of rush in the final acts. Nevertheless, the overall pacing remains commendable, ensuring that the audience stays engaged throughout the evening.

Despite the long runtime, the production is full of energy and delivers plenty of laugh-out-loud moments. The cast’s passion and enthusiasm are evident in every scene, making this Richard III a fun and memorable evening out. Audience members are encouraged to come prepared for the outdoor venue—bring a cushion for the terraced seating and a jacket for the cooler evening temperatures. And should the weather take a turn, the PumpHouse Theatre has an indoor space ready to ensure the show goes on.

For those new to Shakespeare or looking for an accessible entry point, this modernised Richard III is an excellent choice. By setting the play in a recognisable and visually interesting timeline, the production succeeds in attracting younger audiences and newcomers to Shakespeare, without losing the depth and complexity that fans of the Bard expect.

The Shoreside Theatre Inc.’s Richard III is a refreshing and engaging take on Shakespeare’s classic. While the 1940s gangland setting offers an intriguing twist, the production remains faithful to the essence of the play, delivering a powerful exploration of ambition, power, and the human cost of corruption.

The performances are passionate, the pacing brisk, and the audience interaction memorable, making this an experience worth attending. Whether you’re a seasoned Shakespeare fan or a curious first-timer, this Richard III offers a thrilling night of drama, humour, and intrigue under the stars.

Performances of Richard III run from January 21 to February 15

Tickets can be purchased here
 

KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON (2023)

In the 1920s, members of the Osage Native American tribe of Osage County, Oklahoma, are murdered after oil is found on their land, and the FBI decides to investigate.

In Martin Scorsese's latest film, Killers of the Flower Moon, audiences are transported to a period in history that's both harrowing and authentic. This extensive Western crime drama delves into the haunting story of the Osage Indian murders in the 1920s, shedding light on a dark chapter in American history. Boasting a stellar cast led by Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert De Niro, this epic clocks in at three and a half hours, providing a thought-provoking exploration of themes like greed, oppression, and justice.

Adapted from David Grann's book, Killers of the Flower Moon immerses us in a world where the Osage Indians in Oklahoma unexpectedly became the wealthiest per capita due to the discovery of oil beneath their reservation. They lived in grandeur, residing in opulent mansions with chandeliers and surrounded by household staff. The film introduces us to the character of Ernest Burkhart, played by Leonardo DiCaprio, a war veteran returning to live with his uncle, William Hale, portrayed by Robert De Niro.

Hale, a cattle rancher with a facade of charm and congeniality, conceals a sinister and insatiable greed. Ernest, in contrast, appears easily manipulated, serving as the perfect pawn in Hale's ambitions. His mission is to court Mollie, a full-blood Osage woman with valuable oil headrights, a character brought to life with magnetic enigma by Lily Gladstone. Despite Mollie's apparent wisdom, she falls under the spell of Ernest's charms and becomes entangled in a twisted love story that leaves the audience with lingering questions.

Killers of the Flower Moon grapples with pacing issues and moments where further context might have been enlightening. However, the film takes advantage of its extended runtime to construct a vivid world that captures the era's opulence and underlying tension. It's not just a story about greed and murder but also a period piece that immerses us in the 1920s, highlighting the stark contrast between wealth and suffering.

One aspect that leaves room for improvement is the depth of context. It would have been informative to understand why the Osage Indians were so accommodating to the white settlers during this time. The complex love story at the film's core, while rooted in reality, might benefit from more elaboration to deeply resonate with the audience.

Killers of the Flower Moon is not a typical thriller; it lacks the suspense of a classic whodunit because the audience knows the identity of the murderers from the beginning. De Niro's portrayal of malevolence lurking in plain sight is menacingly charismatic, and DiCaprio captures Ernest's internal conflict, guilt, and desperation. Lily Gladstone's performance is captivating and enigmatic, mirroring the complexity of her character.

Nevertheless, the film falls short of fully exploring the character of Mollie, a pivotal figure in Osage Indian history. It's a missed opportunity to tell her story more profoundly. Scorsese's cinematic approach is more focused on character and incidents rather than adhering to a conventional narrative structure, which may not cater to everyone's taste.

Killers of the Flower Moon illuminates a forgotten tragedy of American history, exploring themes of oppression, vengeance, and resistance. The film portrays the devastating consequences of greed and prejudice, with a focus on the Osage people's struggle to manage their newfound wealth while enduring discrimination.

Scorsese's visual storytelling is exceptional, capturing the beauty of the American plains and presenting scenes that resemble paintings. The director's choice to prioritize the antagonists over the victims of the crimes may leave some viewers desiring more depth and emotional connection to the core of the story.

Killers of the Flower Moon offers a compelling examination of a tragic chapter in American history. It provides a glimpse into a world of grandeur and suffering, where greed knows no boundaries. With its remarkable cast and a visual approach that showcases the beauty of the era, the film delivers a unique cinematic experience.

While it grapples with pacing issues and a lack of depth in some areas, Killers of the Flower Moon succeeds in shedding light on a forgotten tragedy. It's a story that needs to be told, reminding us of the dark consequences of prejudice, greed, and the quest for justice. This film may not be for everyone, but it is a thought-provoking and visually stunning piece of cinema that deserves your attention.

Killer of the Flower Moon was released in NZ cinemas on October 19, 2023

UPROAR (2023)

A 17-year-old student is forced to get off the fence he has actively sat on all his life to stand up for himself, his whanau (family) and his future in this heartwarming story of identity.

Uproar, the latest film from New Zealand, takes us on a heartfelt journey through a tough time in the country's history. It's also a story about growing up, facing racism, and discovering who you are. Directed by Hamish Bennett and Paul Middleditch, this movie is set in the 1980s during a big rugby event that caused a lot of arguments in New Zealand.

The film's colours and style make it feel like we're back in the '80s. It doesn't hide the problems of that time, like racism and unfair treatment of the Māori people. The main character is a 17-year-old named Josh, played by Julian Dennison. He's like a lot of teenagers, trying to fit in, but he also has to deal with racism at school.

Josh's mom, played by Minnie Driver, wants him to join the school's rugby team to get support from the school's old boys. But Josh doesn't like rugby and feels out of place. His only escape is a drama club run by a cheerful teacher named Brother Madigan, played by Rhys Darby. Josh is good at talking, and the drama club becomes his safe place. As the story unfolds, Josh becomes more aware of the problems in his country. The film uses real news footage from the protests and police clashes, making the story even more powerful.

Uproar doesn't hide the big issues it talks about, like racism and unfair treatment. It's not a subtle movie, but it has a lot of heart. It connects the big historical events with a personal story that you can relate to.

One of the main themes in the film is finding yourself. Josh feels like he doesn't fit in because he's caught between two worlds. His father was Māori, but he passed away, and his mother is from England. As the protests get closer, Josh has to make important choices about his future and what his family's past means to him.

The directors, Paul Middleditch and Hamish Bennett, along with Sonia Whiteman, tell a story that's not just about one person but about New Zealand's cultural identity. This is important, especially now when there are debates about supporting the Māori community.

Julian Dennison, who's known for his humour, shows his serious side and brings out strong emotions in his performance. The film's big heart and touching story make it a must-see. 

When one of Josh's teachers, played by Rhys Darby, suggests he join the drama club, and his best friend Grace joins the protests, Josh finds a new calling and a deeper connection to his culture. With his charm and wit, Julian Dennison's character explores complex emotions in a powerful way. Darby, known for his funny roles, shows his serious side in this movie. He's a caring teacher who brings humour and warmth to his character.

Uproar tells us that the Māori people belong to New Zealand, but they also feel unwelcome sometimes. They can't just forget about the past because it still affects them. The film shows how hard it is to find your place when you're stuck between two worlds.

A touching and powerful movie that takes us back to a crucial time in New Zealand's history. It talks about important issues like racism and unfair treatment in a straightforward way. The talented cast, led by Julian Dennison and Rhys Darby, delivers performances that make the story even more powerful. Uproar is a movie that speaks not only to New Zealand but to the whole world, reminding us of the ongoing struggle for justice and cultural recognition. It's a film that combines entertainment with deep thoughts, making it a must-see for everyone.

Uproar was released in NZ cinemas on October 5, 2023

CORSAGE (2022)

 

Empress Elisabeth of Austria is idolised for her beauty and renowned for inspiring fashion trends. But in 1877, she celebrates her 40th birthday and must fight to maintain her public image. Seeking the excitement and purpose of her youth, she rebels against her public image and comes up with a plan to protect her legacy.

I love having the opportunity to check out non-Blockbuster Hollywood films. It's refreshing to get away from the familiar formulas and familiar faces, and instead revel in a real experience; or at least a fictional interpretation of a real experience.

Corsage is a fictional period-piece, looking at the year leading up to the death of the real-life Empress Elisabeth of Austria (popularly known as Sisi). A world beauty and fashion icon who, having passed the age of 40, is now deemed an old woman, and has found praise turn to criticism, wonder turn to gossip, as she is pushed into the shadows.

Coincidentally, released in the same year as the passing of Queen Elizabeth II, Corsage focuses on the events leading up to the death of a monarch. Two women in similar roles, a century apart; that time has made them receive distinctively different responses from the public as they age. It is this difference that has led to the culmination of Corsage, an embodiment of the constraints and limitations placed on women all over the world, but in our modern age, something that would look out of place on a person of power. And yet, it is this conflicting idea of conditional outrage that enraptures the audience. 

Polarizing in its creation, the pacing of Corsage changes in a moment, dependent on the whim of our protagonist, Elisabeth (brilliantly played by Vicky Krieps) swings from effervescent and full of wonder, to bouts of melancholy and lethargy. This erratic timing makes everything feel glacial and unimaginatively stolid, but the depth of emotion (and sometimes lack thereof) holds you in place, unable to look away as we watch them voluntarily "fall from grace". 

The film revels in the Empress' rebellious nature, and pivots from regal to slovenly, casting a spotlight on the contrast between what is viewed by the public eye and what can be seen in private, creating an absolute chasm of a divide between the behaviour that one wants from us and the behaviour we want to exhibit. Corsage is an exploration of vices and passion, manipulation, and obsession, honesty and deception, loss and revelation.

We gleefully observe this alternate reality; highlighted by impossible presences in the 19th century. Emergency exit signs, film cameras, motorized tractors, a plastic mop and bucket, acts of flipping the middle finger, and modern music are peppered throughout the viewing, a constant reminder of the film's divergence from reality, but also a sentimental wish of what could have been for the late Sisi. The cinematography from Judith Kaufmann is divine and thoughtful with an earthy palette that provides a sense of warmth and focuses the audience's view.  

A fashion article that is a literal and figurative representation of restriction and vanity, the film centres each act around the performance of tightening a corsage (corset/bodice). The diet required to fit the piece. The youth that it symbolizes, The rigidity and uncompromising nature of social conventions. They all link back to the corsage. 

The film starts off with two distinct versions of Sisi; one with the corset on, and one that is not, the former slowly breaking free of its shackles as the film progresses. This is a story of those of the highest status still confined by patriarchal social conventions, this is a story of rebellion, but most importantly this is a story of freedom; at any cost. 

Corsage is in selected cinemas from March 16, 2023

WAITING FOR ANYA (2020)

 

During the harrows of WWII, Jo, a young shepherd along with the help of the widow Horcada, helps to smuggle Jewish children across the border from southern France into Spain.

Waiting for Anya is a drama genre war film, based on a real story. The actual content of the film, in which the entire runtime is devoted, is bookended on both sides with another subplot. The sophomore feature film from director, Ben Cookson, has some structure choices that prevent the film from having a full impact, due to the placement of certain elements in the screenplay (co-written with Toby Torlesse). This subplot shares a character with the main story and is a part of the theme of the main plot, but the set-up is poorly constructed in the first act. We are treated to an emotional sequence with no context, and then the plot thread is left dangling. This dangling thread is frequently referred to throughout the film's runtime but to the detriment of the main story, as the payoff occurs after the conclusion of the main arc.

It's an odd choice, to continually refer to something that isn't directly part of the main story arc, as it prevents the audience from fully engaging with the characters in the main story. Viewers are constantly being reminded that the titular character is still yet to arrive and relegates all other occurrences to set-up and development to a pay-off that doesn't meet expectations.

If you strip the book of its dust jacket, however, Waiting for Anya is a wonderfully balanced dramatic story. Never before have my eyes been privy to a war film that involves Nazi Germany but takes a human approach. These German soldiers are not all the irredeemable killers out to slaughter every person that isn't blonde and blue-eyed. They may be on the other side of the war, but they are still people with their own children, family, and friends, following the orders of their government. Thomas Kretschmann is an incredibly empathetic and charismatic choice as the Colonel opposite the cold and menacing Lieutenant Weissman (portrayed by Tómas Lemarquis).

It is this dichotomy within the ranks of the German soldiers that finally humanizes them. To see soldiers and officers that still have a clear understanding of morality ethics but are simply following orders to protect their own lives. Similarly, the hatred and anger that are often portrayed, come from both sides of the conflict putting forward a diverse mix of personality types; there is no black and white or good and bad, in war. 

From a visual sense, the film is adequate. There are several moments where it is incredibly obvious that the actors are standing in front of a computer-generated background (usually during the dialogue scenes in the mountains. It does stand out and can take you out of what is otherwise a very engaging and authentic film. The performance from the Noah Schnapp (who plays Jo) is well-executed as a young actor. Smart, resourceful, and curious enough with the need for precociousness and overexcitement. 

Simply put, the choice in title creates somewhat of a red herring and misdirection as to the narrative direction of the film. One expects Anya to have a greater significance is Waiting for Anya, but this is Jo's story of balancing friendships, evaluating trust, and being able to see the good in people, no matter the uniform that they wear. 

Waiting for Anya is in cinemas from July 22, 2021

Originally posted to: https://djin.nz/Kr8892