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014: A BAG OF HAMMERS

Jason Ritter and Jake Sandvig (also writer) aptly represent the undeserving though altogether harmless heroes of the modern age, proving to be the educational and societal forgotten. Making a meager living stealing cars from mourners, the pair bypasses the justifiable shame of their lifestyle through the “you guys!! ” manner in which they approach it.

The lighthearted life of questionably petty crime, is soon interrupted with the introduction of 12 year old Kelsey (Chandler Canterbury) and the devastating affects of his spiteful mother, powerfully portrayed by Carrie Preston. The desperation of a jobless, woman alongside the guilt of feeling burdened by her son, Lynette (Preston) runs all roads to escape her situation before finally giving in to the allure of suicide.

Having jilted any attempt to save Kelsey from the negligence of his mother, the irresponsibility of the lovable rogues is swiftly halted in favour of a childhood never granted to them. A cheesy speech follows when breaking the news of his mothers death to Kelsey, though the scene is drastically saved by the underplayed heartbreak from Canterbury.

After initial kindness from both childlike men, Ben (Ritter) breaks their oddly close bond, unwilling to sacrifice the life they hold for the child that has been thrust on them. After mutual soul searching, the human sanctity gained by Ben through a simple hug from a homeless woman enforces the overriding theme of the film, humanity, and brings the pair back together.

Finally in a state of stability and happiness, albeit with two criminal father figures, there seems to be an amicable future for Kelsey, as well as the unfamiliar feeling of being wanted.

In what feels like a somewhat rushed ending, Kelsey is promptly forced into child protection services, projecting for us a montage of his expectations of being part of the ramshackle family that took him in, expectations that never were. However! A mere 11 months down the line Ben and Alan have somehow managed to secure the position of being responsible, law abiding and foster friendly enough for Kelsey to be put back into their care.

Flawed, yes, but who doesn’t secretly want everything to work out anyway. With this kind of story line in our kind of society, its nice for someone to finally get a break.

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013: TERRI

The 2011 release Terri, opens with a cumbersome Terri, wedged tightly into a bath and  is immediately into our hearts as the lovable antihero. Whether Terri is wise beyond his years or merely a typical 15-year-old prick is undecided, but his flippant behaviour alongside a somewhat daunting physique proves to be the literal middle finger to high school society. 

The sole carer for his debilitating uncle, presumably suffering from Alzheimer’s, Terri begins his almost rebellion, opting for a pajama consistent wardrobe and inadvertently turning to killing mice for a cheap thrill. The minorly psychotic behaviour of the lumbering teen is alto quickly recognised by surprise star John C Reily, in a well-deserved mentor role as the down-with-the-kids principal. Though dependable for some much-needed comic relief, Reilys compassionate character acts as a source of stability in Terris unconventional upbringing.

As Terri ambles along his partially self-isolated life, the relationships he accidentally forms make for truly bizarre yet wonderful friendships. Reily enamors a sense of confidence into the before fastidious reject, that we all (including Terri) have long been awaiting. After dropping some prescription Alzheimer’s medication and forcing down a $200 bottle of whisky, Terri becomes more at home with the local slut and a hair-picking weirdo than most high school cliques ever convince themselves they are.

Most of all, what this immediate classic endows upon us is the idea of hope. We are not washed over with the pretence that everything has worked out and of course Terri becomes head jock with the loveable slut on his arm. Instead Jacobs persists with reality, Terris uncle will never become well, he will always be picked on, but an endearing smile from lead Jacob Wysocki (Terri) assures us at least that for him, life has improved.

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012: 120 DAYS OF SODOM

The film opens with the 4 highest ranking men in Italy, The Bishop, The Judge, The Duke and The President conspiring to turn their darkest and most disturbed sexual fantasies into reality, From that point it is not an easy film to watch to say the least. Based on the book written by Marquis De Sade ‘120 Days of Sodom’ is a rip-roaring ride through the world of debauched Italian fascist lust. The film follows the lives of 16 teenage Italian peasants who have been locked away in a castle and used purely for the sexual entertainment of the 4 aristocrats. With the help of hardened prostitutes the evil-dooers (or ‘libertines’ as they like to be known as) set about to psychologically destroy their captors into engaging in the most horrific acts the human mind can think of (it is worthy to note that the actual term sadism is derived from Marquis De Sade’s last name) what follows is a heart wrenchingly tragic and often difficult to stomach viewing experience. With no character development or real narrative to speak of you might be mistaken into thinking it has nothing to offer other than pure shock value which is part true as you find yourself 45 minutes in and nothing really has happened other than some nasty right-wing men have snatched 8 boys and 8 girls from the nearby town of Salo. But then you realise what the film is doing, slowly moving towards the shock of what you are faced with for the second half. In the latter half of the film you are forced to endure graphic violent sadism, Coprophagia and forced incest. These things all burst out of nowhere and smack you round the face leavening you a little confused about why you are watching this film and ultimately what you are getting out of it other than a ‘cool’ film to tell your friends about. Then it all suddenly makes sense, the constant references to Nietzsche, the over powering fascist iconography and the underlying casual racism involving the servants at the castle. What Pasolini has done is taken the psychotic ramblings of De Sade and used them to make a point against him and others of the same ilk. The main problem with the film however is that whilst watching, you feel that there is far to much emphasis on the act’s that the sadists force out on their victims as opposed to what makes their mind work that way, A good way to look at this movie would be ‘A Serbian Film’ made in the 1970’s, interesting enough when taken at face value but ultimately leaves you feeling empty and a tiny bit disappointed.

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011: THE BROOKLYN BROTHERS BEAT THE BEST

The Brooklyn Brothers Beat The Best is yet another example of the waning success of the alternative post-teen comedy. With the usual quandaries or fading youth and impending responsibility, of course we see Alex, stick it to the man and give his singer-songwriter career one final push. Accompanying Alex’s monotone, self-inspired music (and personality) comes the comedic relief of Brooklyn Brothers, in the form of Jim (Michael Weston). Too childish to hate and yet too absurd to take seriously, Jim, bestows a reluctant Alex the opportunity to make a name for themselves. Road Trip, meet School of Rock.

In O’Nan’s writer-director debut, it’s just a little too hard to shake the presence of the music. Acting almost as Zooey Deschanel’s male counterpart, O’Nan all but forces the dowdy soundtrack upon you, whilst the acting waits. However, when the sound of the many children’s instruments subsides, there are moments of odd contentment to be appreciated. Including an inciting off the cuff speech from Jim and some uncle/nephew liberal preaching.

After enduring the sweeping will-they wont-they relationship of Alex and token hot girl Cassidy (Arielle Kebbel), the improbable band lay in ruin thanks to the shock disappearance of their sultry tour manager along with the little money they’ve managed to make. This blow to the endearingly pathetic twosome however is quickly availed with a painfully sentimental ending. Enter smiling goths, a sun-drenched swan song amidst a montage of the film and a kiss from the girl. Go Team. 

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Keeping with gender dysmorphia  . . .

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010: TOMBOY

  From seeing a truly wholesome family happiest in each other’s company, we suspect nothing as surprising as the shock revelation of Mikael (Zoe Heran) and his true feminine form. Complete acceptance of her boyish nature is a wonderful sight; the rejection of inherent femininity seems to create a child indifferent to any other.

  Life within the new neighbourhood however is inevitably the spark to riff this innocent deception. Introducing herself as Mikael, Laure quickly, if not reluctantly, befriends Lisa along with the male dominated rabble of kids wasting away the summer. Learning to spit, play football and protecting his sister implore a sense of universality to the endearing Mikael, demanding our acceptance of him as a person irrelevant of gender.

  Though as Mikael’s deception becomes more powerful, with the increasing love interest of Lisa and the looming threat of his secret becoming known, the joy of the pretence subsides and Michael’s unhappiness of being is all we see. Despite the makeshift playdoh penis and a rapidly affectionate Lisa, Mikael comes to realize he is no happier as a pretend boy than the pretend girl he once was.

  Through a traumatic outing by his mother followed by a more so horrifying encounter with his friends, once again there is a somber child lost in gender limbo. Laure’s brief experience as Mikael comes to a tragic end, but the relief and freedom this creates is possibly the most sincere experience we come to enjoy. Continuously accepting Lisa asks the simple question, who are you? To which the startlingly jubilant reply is, Laure.

  This prepubescent exploration of a seemingly mature issue avoids any detour into graphic gender dysmorphia, keeping the point simple and heartwarmingly affective. Laure or Mikael, the name or associated gender is irrelevant, we know only a person, and are delighted to do so.

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009: TAXIDERMIA

Palfi creates a dark history of events, spanning three generations of questionably related men, and their contribution to an endearingly grotesque Hungary. Each man as unfavourable and somewhat downtrodden as the last, inquire both our admiration and revulsion in Palfis chronicles.

Opening with an unexplained multi-lingual speech we are introduced to the first of the three, a sexually deviant “lover” of fire who plays an alto insular role as a private to a lieutenant’s intimate defense. As the sexual pyromaniac ambles a way through his menial servant like tasks there is a sense of pity for the childlike outcast, masked more obviously in the predominant feeling of disgust. Starting somewhat more jovially with shooting fire from his dick, we must then endure the self-dramatized fucking of the mangled corpse of his beloved pig and his masturbation over the “Little Match Girl”. Scenarios that leave us with little disdain for his concurrent shooting from being found trousers down on top of the pig.

After watching the presumably cuckolded lieutenant brutally chop a pig’s tail from his wife’s newborn child, so begins the life of Kalman Balatony. Initially referred to as my little Kalman, we quickly observe this change as the little pig transforms into a colossal speed eater. The stomach turning sights of gorging followed by enforced purging though hard for us to watch seem alluring enough for fellow speed eater and soon to be adulterous wife Gizi.

Palfi conjures an affable perception of Communist Hungary and the apparent athletic prowess that professional speed eating has. As the immense duo are married and Gizi fucked by a rival speed eater, their professional careers and the paternity of their immanent child are left in jeopardy.

With another uncertain father to this line of peculiar men, so comes the last of the three, the oddly weedy Lajoska. The harmlessly threatening taxidermist keeps his now absurdly large father alive on chocolate bars, unwrapped so to slide down easier. Taking backhand deals within his trade, such as the transformation of a fetus into a handy keychain we understand that yet again this generation is less than normal.

As the film comes to a close there is an almost gratifying ending for Kalman and the underappreciated Lajoska. After speed eating became a young mans game Kalman is unknowingly acknowledged, comically becoming famed in the art world due to his son’s final accomplishments, a fantastic finale to a maybe undeserving figure.

Taxidermia presents an absurdly weird alternative of Hungarian history, using undesirables as it’s driving force, something that without their depraved existence however would not be half as interesting. Though this version of events may not be true to fact, its certainly more captivating than anything you already know of Hungary’s past.

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008: TRASH HUMPERS

Reminiscent of early Jackass, the pointless vandalism and childlike kicks carried out by the fake elderly is attraction enough for any wannabe vagrant. Home movie footage and a seemingly brash editor aid the oddly created reality of the unreal situation.

With Kids and Gummo in her antisocially reputable history, Korine continues the ever-darkening curiosity of sociopathy. From sucking off trees to teaching a queerly adult-like child the complexities of maiming someone, the insular community of 2009s Trash Humpers is a challenge at best to understand.

Holding no real narrative but to “get that trash pussy!” the lives of these obviously disturbed people becomes weirdly desirable. Like kids home alone life is an incessant party without the concept of responsibility, but these are some messed up kids. This juxtaposition of age and morality is in constant flux throughout, the frivolity of humping trashcans to the serenity of listening to Christmas songs with fat hookers. Youth is subsumed and rational actions surpassed, this collection of psychotics are too old to be no hopers, begging the question then, so what?

The repetition of this stream of vandalism and sexual deviance however transforms, from comedic nonsense to a rather hard to stomach freak show. As a steam of “normal” guests is staggered across scenes of subduement, we are offered a source of amusement in that we can only laugh at the regular world.

Normality is something to be mocked within Trash Humpers, and the indent of expected society proves this shockingly. The pain of ordinariness and the restraints of society provide an almost viable explanation for the life choice of these irregular elderly, in a somewhat poignant closing speech.

If not left utterly freaked out by the experience of a dead body being soothed by a demonic nursery rhyme, and a repentant sinner kidnap a baby, we are also left with the lingering doubt in our minds. Why age gracefully, that’s no fun.

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007: ELEPHANT

Based loosely on the 1999 Columbine High School Massacre, Elephant opens on to an immediately altered version of idyllic American suburbia. The erratic driving of a drunken father and the succeeding parental role reversal with his concerned son, introduces a typically Van Sant theme of the arduous life beneath social normality.

Our awkward introduction to this less than stepford community, sees Van Sant’s trade mark tracking shot uncomfortably follow a fraction of American teens in a well presented unfamiliarity. The involvement and closeness offered to us through these elongated shots yet complete oblivion of character personality demonstrates perfectly the sense of irrelevance and insignificance suggested of American high schools. The disorientating mess of sound and pupils as we follow Elias down an almost infinite hallway, contrasted with the running classical music zoning in and out of the film emphasizes an almost psychotic feeling of triviality of being.

As more somewhat meaningless characters are forced upon us, a further insight into the school dynamic through a majoritively unenthused group discussion on social acceptance, greater exaggerating this now dauntingly lonely school existence. Van Sant’s meticulous attention to detail sees multiple scenes replayed from different perspectives, the passing of time shows not only the magnitude of the school but also the disinvolvement of its individually suffering students.

After the suggestion that “some heavy shit’s about to go down” from multiple students perspectives we are ultimately met with the two gun”men”, the importance being as Van Sant makes very clear that these are merely misguided boys.

Elephant scrupulously attempts to offer an explanation for the actions of boys, involving the vices of others, including the modern classics of bulimia, pregnancy and video games. Concluding rather uninspiringly and somewhat undeservingly with the secrecy and shame of homosexuality as a viable cause for the following massacre, as suggested in a sudden shower sex scene between the two boys.

In suit with earlier tracking shots, we now begin our journey with the gunmen towards school, towards what we already assume is the fate of many lives. As their plan begins to crumble, pipe bombs failing, and their presence initially shunned, shots are fired fast and without purpose. With the gunmen as well as pupils emotionless, it takes the smeared blood from a body as he is dragged from a doorway, to signal the reality of the situation. The first time the two gun-wielding students are actually noticed within a school environment.

The lack of emotion apparent in all characters continues to escalate throughout the massacre, with only one attempting to warn others away, from outside - where they’re already safe, concluding with the gunmen’s detachment from each other.

Van Sant dramatically yet monotonously presents the droning pain of high school, if not in an alto broad spectrum, however the stunning reality of the situation he seamlessly forces upon us is scarily familiar. 

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006: THE FUTURE

Forget hope, if the sincere are as corruptible as the rest of us, then we must accept our austere living as fate. Miranda July's 2011 release once again crafts a delicate embodiment of tedium and desire reminiscent of her troublingly beautiful Me and You and Everyone We Know.

Preoccupied with the miniscule, July imparts an earnest childlike perspective on more monotonous aspects of the average life, and it’s the mistaken quashing of this projected innocence that repeatedly leaves a devastating sadness to THE FUTURE.

With all affable oddity of July, we are introduced to the humble pleasantry of The Future by the monologuing of a recently adopted cat. Playing an all too similar character to Christine in Me and You and Everyone We Know, July and her doppelganger counterpart Hamish Linklater dispute the drawbacks of a water fetching winch and the formalities of stopping time. Their anomalous yet endearing shared persona is prematurely weathered through the unexpected substantiality of a cat’s life, forcing them to reprioritize in an effort to fulfill their suddenly unfulfilled lives.

As we warm to the anthropomorphized cat, whose quietly omniscient monologue gives surprising comfort unlike any human character, the self-resigned dissatisfaction with the once synchronized lives of Sophie and Jason (July & Linklater) begins to saturate their lives with pointless definitions of contentment. Whether it’s the incessant awareness of unachieved goals, if they truly have them, or the longing to hold on to their buckling relationship; but their poor attempts at fulfillment seem only a distraction from the realization that neither is as artistic nor important as they believe themselves to be, or should be.

“Inspiration” sparks a riff that inevitably destroys the pair; an annoyingly casual phone call to a stranger and an environmentally fuelled but certainly selfish enlistment as a campaigner, signal the beginning of the end. Oddly enough the missing child within their lives that causes the premature mid-life crisis, forces them like children into the parental arms of unlikely mentors. As Sophie finds solace as a suburbanite, finding motivation through a flippant compliment, Jason’s self-destruction at the loss of his female self has lead to the end of time.

More so than seeing Sophie fucked by her father figure and Jason restarting time through an obvious metaphor of mental progression, what is hard to digest is the death of a humanly assumed animal that holds no real stake in the film. Sick of the pessimism of the pair as I was, the death of “Paw Paw” allegorically signifies an end of their self-definition, a retreat to a now unloving uniformity. 

The Future, in retrospect of July’s earlier work adapts a familiar enchanting bleakness to the mundane. We are offered a place within the lives of the dully eccentric, though the exclusivity of our position within their lives I feel is sadly unjust. 

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005: FINISTERRAE

Two ghosts, a wheelchair and a mechanical horse. Probably the weirdest form of self-discovery, but ineffably cute.

More than anything, Sergio Caballero’s FINISTERRAE leaves you with an unexplainable feeling of jollity, but by no means is that a bad thing. For two men in sheets, the familiarity we find in these lost souls is surprisingly endearing. Maybe it’s the subtle marveling of nature, or the obscurity of narrative, either way it’s a separation from reality everyone could use.

Battling with trips to the psychiatrist and an un-life of medication, desperation for purpose is what drives our two unnamed ghouls, on their trek across all manner of landscapes. The 2010 Rotterdam festival winner creates a bizarre flirtation between death and being, avante-garde and comedy rarely merge as well as this.

The obscurity of Finisterrae’s narrative becomes harder to digest, intertwining long shots of minimal action with a concurrent barrage of seemingly pointless occurrences, but you’ll come to realize this only furthers the full affect of this spectral adventure. Reminiscent of the more fantastical kids films, we become captivated with the journey, and in all Never Ending Story fashion there’s a parade of outlandish, if not more sinister mentors. Trippier than any Jim Henson creation, this voyage in self-discovery spans through forests of ear-blessed trees and see’s the lighthearted murder of a slutty hippie.

With no idea of facial reference and a serious lack of dialogue, Caballero employs a more magical narrative for those patient enough to sit through and watch as the deceased pair rambles across the bleakest of scenery. Flitting between whimsical stick therapy and the pain of lost identity, our emotive relationship to the apparitional duo is in constant flux, just as their position in limbo. These faceless creatures offer an apparent lacking in any sense of consequence, but they are dead, so it gives a quaint view on life.

Caballero’s childlike imagination pops a tab of acid as continuity falls out of frame and experience is praised. The antics of the two friends including wheelchair fishing and giant ghost sex transpire for no higher reason than simple enjoyment, ending with watching a deer walk through an empty house, because when else will you. This running theme of carefree hijinks can only be further exploited through the ethereal form of the two perpetrators, boding the limited time for fucking around.

To say Finisterrae will change your life is untrue; it’ll weird you out to some extent. All I can say is that it offers a real feeling of freedom on a somewhat unexplored level of mortality, that you simply don’t get from the living. Also if you’ve never seen a ghost motorboat someone, this is the film for you.

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004: TAKE SHELTER

And so paranoia breaks the common man. TAKE SHELTER sees the disruption of a man in wake of the wellbeing of his family, a proverbial story in a twisted narrative.

Jeff Nichols’ ominous approach to the lives of the ordinary is starkly present in his first film since 2007 release SHOTGUN STORIES. The monotony and subtle disappointment of Midwestern American living seems to be the thriving origin of the sinister actions of Nichols’ characters.

Our perception of reality is immediately called into question through the opening of Take Shelter; as we see a nervous Michael Shannon ponder the thick petrol-like rain, fall fat from an apocalyptic sized storm. Left idle in the reality of this scenario, we are introduced into an almost sickeningly traditional way of life. Labouring, beer-swilling men contrasted with childbearing bitchy women welcome us to Ohio, and then something maybe more welcoming, an escape from this.

As visionary dreams begin to plague Curtis’ (Michael Shannon) life, his once prominent position within the community wavers, as does his rational mind and grasp on reality. Nichols’ powerful incite into delusion, paranoia and mental instability are portrayed in such a brutally vivid manner that you cannot help but identify with it. The ever-present threat to himself and his family within his dreams makes a shattering contrast to actuality. In acting upon his dreams, he risks more harm to his family than could ever equate from the parameters of his mind.

Remaining true to gender stereotypes, Curtis represses his anguish, finding solace in self-diagnosis and sleeping pills to rid him of the divination of his dreams. Consequential to this however is an invasion of his subconscious, further stretching the boundaries of his sanity and the inherent need to protect his family.

Against logic, criticism and marital stability, Curtis strives in a Noah-esque manner to complete a sanctuary from the unknown evil he so gravely assures is coming. The forced prophetic demonstration made to a crowd of his once was friends, compels his rejection from a community met by an unexpected family engrossment. With his newly acquired support, it is now Curtis seems to be proved right. Birds falling dead, thunder cracking across the sky, we revel in the admiration in eyes of his wife. The odd serenity of a family adorned in gas masks makes for a beautiful distraction in a surreal situation.

We are left in a constant indecision on Curtis’ sanity. The journey of self-affirmation that Nichols’ creates through Curtis’ mental turmoil leaves us in a world of confusion, but it is this sense of disorientation that we truly inhabit the world he creates.

The storm is ubiquitous to Curtis and his family, it is our decision however if it is a sincere or manifested threat. 

(Release Date: November 2011)

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003: DRAGONSLAYER

Tristan Patterson’s DRAGONSLAYER will indulge you in a reminiscent picture of your teens, with the bittersweet undertone that you grew up. This skate park bum documentary leaves you in a disorientated state of emotions, questioning why you care so much for the tie-dye sprawled vagabond that is Josh "Skreech" Sandoval. 

From the opening scene, with Skreech's painstaking commitment to skating the watery remnants of an abandoned pool, only to make way for a barrage of harsh falls and his denouncement from the area by an elderly vigilante, we are forced into an almost maternal relationship with him. If we pity or admire the aging skater I can't be sure, we're as Skreech describes it, the hot girl, enabling a dependent figure just so to care for something. It’s at times where Skreech is at his most vulnerable and inevitably dependent however, that the sense of relatability assumed to him absorbs our emotions completely. To watch the gawky, somewhat unloved young father approach his problems in an impressively blasé fashion is unexpectedly inspiring. We come to realise that Skreech, despite his material faults and our assumed benevolence, actually understands himself and society in a sophisticated if not hidden demeanor.

Patterson guides us through this intimately shot document, of a community usually adorned with animosity, in an almost educative and sincerely compassionate drive. Scenes including Skreech’s explanation of his depression to a young fan and the awkwardly infantile manner he conducts himself can easily be construed as hard to watch cinema. Though when paired with new girlfriend Leslie and her equally meek mannerisms its hard not to feel a sense of appreciation for their mutually docile approach to life.

The community Skreech seems to revere and ridicule, who atone him the same attitude, is the foundation to a lifestyle and the introduction to the bare frivolity of the California skate population. Between his dishearteningly understanding girlfriend and the flocks of indistinguishable friends that wash through this documentary, Patterson insights the notion that life is something taken far too earnestly. From the nonchalant acceptance of a distant relationship with his family to the ubiquitous presence of his fading skate career, Skreech becomes the unlikely role model for a more complaisant lifestyle.

Enthused within this society detached lifestyle is the rather far-fetched formation of a political agenda. The powerful manifesto read by Skreech’s girlfriend attributes a mature perspective on skate culture, whilst remaining quietly cute. Though we may see trivial offences such as skating disused pools and using social drugs at times, Patterson explores the fathomable existence of a caring community. Skating seems to transform into exemplification of a life direction rather than an act of defiance or a social pastime.

As Dragonslayer comes to an end Skreech’s skate career becomes more transient and less important , but in no way a defeatist exploit. Grimacing at Josh “Skreech” Sandoval’s misshapen life through the gaps between your fingers, reminds you why you’re not hanging out with Jay Adams, but makes you feel like such a pussy for not. 

DRAGONSLAYER will be screening at the DOCHOUSE (London) in March 2012. This is one of the first UK screenings of the SXSW multi-award winning documentary, I would urge you to see it whilst you can. More information will be uploaded when available.

Dochouse, Riverside Studios, Crisp Road, Hammersmith, London W6 9RL

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002: DONNE-MOI LA MAIN

A haunting rendition of the monotony of similarity. Pascal-Alex Vincent’s DONNE-MOI LA MAIN, explores the complexities of being a twin with a precedent lack of understanding from outsiders as well as of one’s self.

 We are in a constant sense of severe unease, watching twin brothers Antoine and Quentin’s eerie relationship unfold its sinister inner workings. Opening scenes of childlike dependency, concerning their lives close proximity and the routinely exercised unity of everyday life creates an obscure paradigm of youth. The flippant nature of the brothers’ bond is constantly played upon, contrasting their sometimes overly affectionate mannerisms with repetitive fighting and petty vengeance. Whatever the emotions that are bluntly expressed through their actions, they are focused solely on one another and always leave us on the outside of their relationship.  This privatised view of twindom makes a bold statement on the search for individuality and the inevitable decline to mutual dependence.

 Vincent’s portrayal of the two brothers follows their lacklustre attempts in crossing France to attend the funeral of their otherised mother, with all the affect of a classic American hitchhiking tale. Society seems to represent a system of individuals not accepting of this bond, which continuously strengthens and threatens their vulnerable existence. Fitting this theme, their detachment from society is apparent not only through the barren landscape they endless trawl through, but also their affliction to anyone they meet whom one doesn’t wish to fuck. The cavalcades of sexual exploits the twins embark upon on their journey are the only things that briefly separate them. Though these in themselves are less intimate than either realise, each experience is endured together - with knowledge of the others presence or not. Whilst sex may be the defining peak of individuality for one it acts as a jealously motivated re-instilment of dependency for the other.

 The initially blasé endeavour to reach their mother’s funeral becomes inherently more important as the brother’s become more aggressive towards one another. We see Antoine essentially sell his brother to a sexually belligerent stranger, followed by his own somewhat forced Oedipal experience. The search for a maternal figure is obvious through the twin’s childish behaviour, though no more desperate than in the harsh sight of Antoine’s submissive acceptance of a handjob from a welcome motherly form.

 Our conception of twindom is severely altered through Donne-moi la main, creating an image of the inescapable lacking of individuality, which points towards the only solution being the demise of one half of this unified being.

 This being the dreary realisation of both brothers.

(Release Date 2008 - Available Online)

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001: SNOWTOWN

Fucking brutal. SNOWTOWN intimately illustrates a much darker side to Australian living, with an all too familiar route to evil. Justin Kurzel’s compassionate depiction of sexual abuse, mental turmoil and inevitably serial murder, offers a heartbreaking rendition of events that devastated the south of Australia across the 90’s.

Following John Bunting’s enlistment of lost souls, mentally unstable vagrants and easily corrupted communities; Kurzel explores how a seemingly attentive father figure leads his devoted “family” into a depraved social cleansing. The confessional dream, lead character Jamie Vlassakiss (Lucas Pittaway), opens the film with immediately assures us this is not your classic episode of Neighbours. This introduction into his mind, accompanied by the cigarette smoke choked community he exists in, is only the precursor to the misguided life we grimacingly watch unfold before us.

 With no sense of authority whatever throughout the film, we see a community left to its own devices, isolated and increasingly paranoid. Stuck within this rightfully fearful town, a ramshackle collection of unlikely dad shaped replacements, including a cross-dressing fag-hater, and the good word of the Lord, take the Vlassakiss boys swiftly under their self-appointed, community-policing wing. Kurzel’s empathetic interpretation of being accepted into a friendship, even in such sinister forms as throwing dismembered Kangaroo limbs at a suspected pedophile’s house shocks us, well of course, but sustains the focus of the good intentions that seem to provoke this act. It is simply the bleakest form of uplifting cinema.

 The focus on family togetherness and a somewhat ironic instilment of traditional values is merely the beginning of the purification of the community of Snowtown, “an Australian Tradition” as referred to by Bunting. We come to expect it after first seeing the three Vlassakiss boys posing naked for their neighbour’s camera lens, but Kurzel’s effortless application of unease is incessant. Torture and murder forcibly become a part of Jamie’s life, by his own means or not, this pattern of events is inescapable. The delicate, childlike character Kurzel makes of Jamie, is a harsh contradiction to the world of murder and prejudice thrust upon his somewhat meaningless, but honest life. This representation completely inverts our concept of a serial murderer. The amazing cinematography definitive of Kurzel’s films molds the character of Bunting, from a heartwarming mentor into the controlling narcissist that made murderers out of children.

Snowtown is as grim as it comes, but I assure you, you will never feel so compassionate towards a serial murderer than Jamie Vlassakiss.

(Release Date 2011 - Available Online)