Juno

Despite my keen interest in film, I'm regularly playing catch-up with movies that everyone else has seen bar me. For some reason I find it difficult to get to the cinema unless it's for a film festival where I can pre-buy a bunch of tickets and therefore be locked into attendance.

Juno was released in 2007. I finally saw it over the weekend.

Juno won plenty of awards at the time of its release, but still had its far share of people who thought it was over rated. I absolutely loved it. I haven't laughed along with a film so much in ages.

Juno is a sixteen year old who loses her virginity to long-time admirer Bleeker, and ends up pregnant. Rather than some moralistic tale of parents struggling to accept their daughter's actions and the ruined lives of teenage mothers, what follows is a heart felt story about an independent young girl making her own choices in life. She decides to adopt the baby out, and in the process learns a lot about love and relationships.

It sounds cheesy, I know, but Juno is a fiercely individual character who makes the film quirky and special. She always says exactly what's on her mind and that's usually something hilariously out-there.

I especially liked that its teenage characters were all treated as people much more aware of what's going on than adults tend to give them credit for. There was none of the sex crazed, binge drinking, bong smoking stereotype.

Juno also uses one of the best euphemisms for Penis that I've heard yet....

.....Pork Sword.

And on that basis, how could you NOT watch this film?

Is it just me, or is this ridiculous?

Hello, Darkness

I've been rather busy in between posts. I turned 31 (shhh, don't tell anyone), I've been pretty busy with work and most importantly Melbourne had its first ever Horror movie festival - Hello Darkness. Squeeee!

Held at ACMI last week, Hello Darkness featured four nights of Horror double features. Some were old-ish films and others were Australian premieres. Having already seen the older ones (Haute Tension, Shietan, The Descent and Let the Right One In) I opted to see four of the newer films. First cab off the rank was:

This uber low budget ghost flick has caused a real stir in the US recently. Apparently it's made its budget back more than 15 times since its release a few weeks ago. I did everything in my power to avoid gaining any expectations about Paranormal Activity which was freaking difficult because every horror podcast and blog has been banging on about it.

The film's premise is simple (not unusual for a horror flick, huh?) - a young couple have experienced weird happenings in their home, so they set up a video camera in their bedroom hoping to record some evidence. Yes, it's The Blair Witch Project all over again, but Paranormal Activity relies much more on subtle effects to bring on the creeps. Some of it so subtle that I can imagine less dedicated viewers getting bored, but that's also what's so charming about it.

Next on the block was:

Personally I thought that this remake of what many call a Wes Craven classic absolutely outdid the original. Horror remakes generally suck, but this film was awesome. Well, awesome is a bad choice of adjective because it's utterly brutal and I probably won't ever want to sit through it again, but you know what I mean. Last House on the Left tells the story of two parents who seek revenge on the thugs that raped and murdered their daughter. The 1970s original is best known for its extended rape scene, and that's about it as far as I'm concerned. This remake concentrates much more on developing its characters so that when the bad juju begins you actually feel for the people involved. Highly recommended.

And then I saw:
Not knowing anything at all about this film I went in with no expectations.......I was a little disappointed. Dead Man's Shoes describes itself as a revenge film, focusing on a young soldier who returns from the front line to terrorise a bunch of thugs for torturing his mentally retarded brother. noticing some reoccurring themes here? In reality this film tries to tackle too many subjects and ends up saying nothing at all. I think it wants to explore how people deal with loss, the effects of war on the psyche, and to a lesser degree the lives of England's lower class. But none of this is looked at in any depth and the characters are very two dimensional.

I ended the festival with another heavily hyped film:

You haven't seen the first Descent film? Shame on you! Rent it, buy it and then watch it in the dark. It's amazingly claustrophobic, and features a fantastic all female cast of ass-kicking extreme sportswoman.

Part two begins two days after the cavers go missing and this time it's a rescue party that find themselves lost and on the run in the uncharted cave system. It's entertaining, but ultimately no where near as clever as the first film. Part two relies much more on gore, where as its predecessor used the pitch black, constrictive cave system as a terrifying character in itself.

Roll on next year's festival.

Dick

What's everyone got planned for the weekend? I gotta get going, I'm running late for Dick Dale's Ls Vegas show. Hopefully he keeps his clothes on and won't look like he just sat on his guitar (although those outfits are just as scary). Have a good one.

Gastronomic weekend

After a hectic week it was truly a relief to hit the road and visit our friends in Metung for the weekend. This was to be a particularly special occasion, as Toni's son, who is a Chef, had offered to roast a pig for us in a neighbour's woodfire oven. Having eaten this young gent's food before, we knew better than to refuse.

The dogs preparing to sniff each other's butts in hello

The four hour drive is an exhausting one. More so for Andrew who prefers to drive, than for me who prefers to have a doze with my iPod on.......Anywho, we arrived at about 6pm, had a few beers at the Metung pub and returned to the house for a scrumptious piece of eye fillet with a salad of beetroot leaves, fennel, orange, lemon juice and marinated beets.

The following day the woodfire oven was started a little later than planned, and the people who owned it had some errands to run. So I volunteered to hang around stoking the fire, which is harder than it sounds. But who am I to complain when they left me with a bottle of French champagne and a plate of cheeses?



By the time they returned I was lightly roasted myself, and promptly had a snooze upon returning to the house. I awoke to the arrival of our poor little friend, the pig. To be honest, I couldn't look too closely or else I wouldn't have ended up eating anything. Poor little guy.

Dinner started with (more) champagne, and oysters served with lime juice, sliced orange and chili. Oh my god they were amazing! I was too busy eating after that to photograph any of the food, however the following dishes included a cauliflower soup and seared scallops wrapped in angel hair pasta. Burp.

Oh my, these really were the most fantastic oysters I ever eaten.

As if that wasn't enough food, we still had to eat the pig! It was served with an Italian salad which combined bread, onion, tomato and baby spinach to great effect. Unfortunately the woodfire oven hadn't been quite hot enough (not my fault, they assure me!) so the poor little pig didn't end up as tasty as he could have been. But the apple and pear tart that arrived for dessert more than made up for that.

Did I mention that there were 15 of us for dinner?

Things got a little foggy after dessert, I think we got to bed at about 1:30am which isn't too bad considering. One of the guests offered to have us over for brunch the following morning. They have a deck in their backyard with a fantastic view of Metung's lakes, which was a nice way to get used to our expanded stomachs and slightly sore heads.

Why is it that sometimes the more you eat, the hungrier you get? As if the night before wasn't indulgent enough, we were treated to oven baked eggs with spinach, leek and cream. I'll have to do a lot of swimming this week......

Burton tries on his "if I look sad enough they might give me some of that" face at the breakfast table

Designing my life

One moment it's Monday, the next it's Friday night. Where are the weeks going? It's October already! This time last year I was in Paris......

I started a short course this week, at the CAE (Council for Adult Education). I feel so old, although considering there was a white haired, retired guy in my class wearing a hearing aid, I guess I shouldn't complain. Anywho, I'm doing a course in Adobe InDesign which is a graphic design/desktop publishing program. I do a lot of copywriting for my clients and find myself outsourcing the subsequent design of brochures and other documents. I've been thinking for a while now that the design part of the process is something I could likely do myself, bringing in a little extra income at the same.

It's not as much of a stretch as you might think. I originally completed a degree in fine art, and for a while there actually considered a career in Graphic Design. I just need to learn how to navigate my way through the necessary software. It's only one morning a week for five weeks, and after that I'll probably do a similar course in a couple of other programs that will come in handy for what I want to do. I'm actually quite excited about getting involved in something a little more creative. Who knows, I could be the next David Carson!

Phew! After three hours of learning this week I'm super ired, and because it's Friday I think I deserve a beer. Cheers!

More standards in hygiene

Following on from my shock soap-from-the-floor-of-a-change-room story I'd like to discuss another important element in standards of hygiene. I give you: deodorant.

We've had some issues with our couch, which we bought 12 months ago. Basically, parts of the fabric have worn through, which is ridiculous for a 12 month old couch that is used by only two people and even then we're at work five days a week. We've had someone from the company that made the couch come out and look at it, then tell us nothing was wrong. We asked for a second person to come out, who agreed there was a problem and took the couch away for repairs. Things were OK for a while, but now the fabric is coming apart again. We've complained and the couch was collected again this morning for repairs.

When the removalists arrived this morning, I opened the front door and immediately I could smell the most intense, sour body odour emanating from the young guy at the door. You know how BO can sometimes smell really thick, like you could eat it? Yep.......

So I retreat upstairs because the smell is seriously overpowering while he and his assistant are packing the couch to take it out to their truck . However, it only took a few minutes for his scent to find its way upstairs and into my tucked-away office. Fuck! Has this person not heard of deodorant? Are we living in the middle ages? Can he not smell himself? I can only assume he's single, because no girl would put up with that stench. But then again, he might have been some sort of S&M freak with a Daddy who loves breathing in man musk. Actually no, this guy was way to unkempt to be one of our sisters.

They were probably in the house for 20 minutes, and when they left the whole place smelt of him and his armpits. It was totally gross.

Deodorant: use it, people.

Something tells me the scene in this photo would have smelt a little....funky

Wishing you all a man-powerfull weekend!

Soapy standards in hygiene

People who know me in person might roll their eyes at what I'm about to say, because at a glance I possess a rather thin physique. I've never ever had to watch what I eat or worry about exercise before. However, I recently discovered that I now weigh 10 kilos more than I ever have at any time before.

Andrew has taken to calling my new stomach 'Miffy'.

I'm not mad on the idea of going to the gym, however I do enjoy swimming and used to swim a few kilometres a week. At a guess I haven't swum laps in more than seven years, but last week I went out and bought a new set of swimming gear, and last night I ventured down to the Melbourne Sports and Aquatic Centre, or MSAC as it's known.

MSAC is where the swimming events for the 2006 Commonwealth Games were held along with various other high profile Swim Meets. Ian Thorpe has graced these waters with his pearls. So to speak.

Ian "I'm not gay" Thorpe

Anyway, I struggled through my first swim in years, but what I really want to post about is what happened in the change rooms after wards.

Stop.

Lift your mind out of the gutter. Now read on.

As I changed into some dry clothes, I noticed a guy in the shower opposite me picking up scraps of other people's soap - YES SCRAPS! - from the shower floor and using them to wash himself. He even washed his face with them. Who the hell does that?!?! He looked like he could afford soap, and he also looked (somewhat) sane. After dry retching a little I quickly packed my bag and exited before he began 'borrowing' people's dirty underwear.

It gives new meaning to the phrase 'don't drop the soap'.

Surprise!

It was very quiet here in Melbourne today with the football grand final taking place. I'm not the sporty type and don't follow any particular team, which is odd given I've been born and bred in the 'footy' capital of Australia. So while Andrew watched the game on TV, I pottered around in my studio, finished editing episode 8 of Boysfornoise and then decided to watch a DVD.

My first impulse was to watch the 1980s remake of The Blob, which arrived from Quickflix on Thursday. However as I stood in front of the television I had a change of heart, and decided to put on a French film called The Piano Teacher instead. My Quickflix account sent me out a copy of The Piano Teacher a few weeks ago now, and it's been sitting on the cabinet asking me to watch it ever since. Being a huge fan of Michael Haneke's films since Funny Games (his original Austrian version, not his American remake) I knew that The Piano Teacher wasn't going to be a piece of light-hearted entertainment, and lately I haven't been in the mood for anything too brain taxing. But you know how sometimes those things you find yourself avoiding end up really surprising you? That's totally what happened to me today.

Born in Germany, Mr Haneke is (in)famous for writing and directing confronting films that revolve around the darkest corners of modern day life. His films are never easy to watch, but he has an incredible knack for creating characters that are both repulsively human and incredibly engaging. His films are rarely gratuitous, but his camera never flinches from what we don't want to see.

Michael Haneke

The Piano Teacher was a film that I'd previously avoided because I'd been misled to believe it was a Lolita style love story about a piano teacher who has an affair with a pupil. There's far more to it than that.

Erika (played by Isabelle Huppert) is a 40-something year old Professor at a music conservatory. Although she displays little emotion, it's clear that she takes great joy in belittling her students. In fact she's a complete bitch. Erika still lives with her mother, a total control freak who protects her daughter as if she were a five year old. They share the same bedroom and sleep in twin beds. Together, they're just plain weird. As Erika's character unfolds we learn that underneath her ice-queen persona, and unbeknown to her mother she harbours sadomasochistic fantasies where she is the 'victim'. Erika has a penchant for visiting film booths in porn shops and smelling the discarded tissues; she likes to cut herself with razors. You know, the usual sexual urges......

As viewers we're privy to Erika's strong facade, as well as her sad and isolated inner self. When 17 year old Walter becomes besotted by Erika she divulges her darkest secrets to him, but Walter is repulsed and things quickly go very pear shaped.

I could not take my eyes of Isabelle Huppert during this film. She is completely amazing as the confused, lonely and outwardly emotionless Erika. Huppert's ability to display a huge range of emotions with only the subtlest of facial expressions or gestures, makes Erika and her icy persona a very powerful character.

I thoroughly enjoyed The Piano Teacher although it won't be everyone's cup of tea. The pace is slow and some of the characters are so overblown they border on parody. And like a lot of European cinema, there is no real conclusion to the story, which is likely to drive some people crazy. However, if you're open to the experience I'd highly recommend it.

Beyonce and the margaritas

On Tuesday night Cloudcontrol and I saw modern-day diva, Beyonce perform at Rod Laver Arena. Regular readers will know that top 40 pop music is not usually my thing, however I think Beyonce is quite suave and works with some catchy tunes. I've never been to a giant, pop spectacle performance before either, so I was curious to attend.

On our way to the venue we'd decided to refrain from purchasing drinks before the show, due to the exorbitant pricing of very average beverages at Rod Laver Arena. However, the moment we saw that margaritas were being served in plastic glasses with lights in the stems - LIGHTS PEOPLE! - we just knew we had to gay it up a notch.

Cloudcontrol licks his margarita

So, sufficiently excited after our drinks we braved an arena full of screaming teenage girls and their bored boyfriends (and accompanying parents) and shook our booties along with Beyonce. Although, as WE didn't have a giant sparkly bow attached to our bottoms our booty shaking paled in comparison to Beyonce's. The show was plenty of fun although I was kinda expecting something similar to this:

Leave her alone.

I don't really follow Sports, so I had never heard of Caster Semenya prior to this morning's announcement that the Female World champion 800 metre runner is a hermaphrodite.


Caster has internal testes instead of ovaries and a womb, which has given her larger amounts of testosterone than the average woman. Now that the secret's out there's talk of stripping Caster of her gold medal. Personally I think this is ridiculous and I feel sorry for her. As if she wouldn't have felt self-conscious enough about her body during her life, now the whole frigging world is talking about her genitals.

Imagine how awkward life must be for people born as neither male or female? Everyone should read Jeffrey Eugenides' Middlesex; not a book about freakshows, rather it's a tale about a hermaphrodite's struggle for acceptance and understanding. A beautiful read.

You Basterds!

Quentin Tarantino's last couple of movies disappointed me - both Kill Bill 2 and Death Proof relied far too heavily on contrived dialogue and not enough on the story telling he's so good at. Inglourious Basterds is an awesome return to form.

Dialogue is always an important element in Tarantino's movies, and here he uses the device to great effect. Each of the five chapter's that make up this film centre on a witty and fast-paced conversation that builds tension and intrigue before exploding into some sort of climax. Usually a violent one. There's plenty of blood and gore, as you'd except from the master of genre cinema (poor Andrew was peeking through his fingers at the scalpings!).

What I loved most about this film was the way it turned the typical World War 2 movie on its head. It's true that Brad Pitt looks odd with moustache, but I highly recommend Inglourious Basterds regardless.

The Chiropractor

About six weeks ago after our first trip to the snow for the season, an extremely tense and sore back led me to a chiropractor for the first time. Andrew's been going to a youngish practitioner down the street for a while now, and visible improvement in his long-term back problems gave me some sense of encouragement.

I've heard chiropractors described as being a cult; my own parents refuse to believe that the therapy is doing anything for Andrew's back and wonder when he's going to see a real Doctor. So I trekked down to the 'health and well being' clinic with trepidation, and maybe a little skepticism.

I have to admit that once he'd assessed my problem and I was 'manipulated' for the first time, not only was my back markedly better but that night I had the most rejuvenating sleep I can ever remember. Weeks down the track though, he still has me visiting twice a week and I'm not sure what I'm getting out of the experience. The theory is that your spine/nervous system needs regular 'tuning' to alleviate aches, pain and stress; but how regular is regular? He spends two minutes with me, leaving my wallet $45 lighter and me feeling unsure about what I'm actually getting out of it.

He's a nice enough guy, and I don't think he's out to rip me off. I'm sure he genuinely believes in his practice and what it can do for people. Why else would he says things like 'That's fantastic, Evol, I can feel the healing flowing through your body' as he massages my neck?......

Why else would he tell the lady on the table next to me that her friend, who's just had two miscarriages should start seeing a chiropractor......

I guess there is something slightly cultish about it all. Especially when the practice is positioned as something you need to continue doing forever if you 'truly want to be healthy'. And perhaps I wouldn't be so skeptical if he was attractive enough for me to enjoy having his crotch in my face.

Even so, I'm happy to continue seeing him for the time being. My back does feel much more relaxed and flexible, and I'm able to stay rationale when the jargon comes out. What makes me think twice is the music he plays while you wait for your turn to be cracked. I'm sure some people find Enya and other ambient world-music soothing enough, but personally it makes me want to pull my hair out in clumps and crawl around bent backwards an an unnatural angle like Linda Blair in The Excorcist.

This morning we had Rod Stewart covering Frank Sinatra which segued into some kind of bootscooting, fiddler hoe down. My back goes into spasms just thinking about it. But then, perhaps that's all part of his cultish plan. Use godawful music to ensure people are tense like a spring by the time he comes around to manipulate you.........