2026 – Rating Frames

MIFF 2026: Darcy’s Notebook Pt.2

August 31, 2026September 6, 2026Darcy Read

From Cannes favourites to local newcomers making their mark, the Melbourne International Film Festival is a fixture in the Australian cinema calendar, with the 2026 entry in the loaded program having something for everyone. Whether you just want to get the jump on Oscar prediction morning or need to spend the last weeks of a brittle Melbourne winter in packed cinemas, the festival will provide. Below is part two of our resident festival obsessive Darcy’s notebook on what he’s seen and loved this year.

All of a Sudden (2026) – Ryusuke Hamaguchi

As a keen Drive My Car (2021) evangelist, Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s newest film, a near 200-minute luxuriation on connection, empathy, and capitalism inside a nursing home in France, was the must-see event of the festival. And it did not disappoint. With a unique pair of performances from Virginie Efira and Tao Okamoto (who shared the best actress award at Cannes) that glue you to the screen for its extended runtime, All of a Sudden has a dramatic and thematic engine you never want to leave. Whether it’s during a walk along the river or a whiteboard-assisted monologue on the cancerous nature of capitalism, Hamaguchi knows what he has in Efira and Okamoto and his characters, moving through a world of care and empathy without falling into saccharine traps that would doom a film of this nature.

But this isn’t just a talky film; it also contains perhaps the best use of natural lighting since Barry Lyndon (1975), particularly in its duration capture of sunrises and sunsets. There is a unique magic to having radical natural light changes within a durational scene, and Hamaguchi and cinematographer Alan Guichaoua build many of their extended sequences around it. Hamaguchi’s films may not be to everyone’s taste, but the observational clarity of storytelling he builds his work around should be required viewing for anyone still open to having their world altered by a work of cinema.

Minotaur (2026) – Andrey Zvyagintsev

The weaving of a simmering political turmoil with a pulpy affair plot would be an ill-fitting suit, but with Andrey Zvyagintsev, we immediately feel a cool, meticulous guidance. Coupled with a ruthless consideration by cinematographer Mikhail Krichman to achieve a level of voyeurism that probes without gawking, Zvyagintsev’s film is impressive and engrossing. Even when the film’s gentle simmer reaches boiling point, we are asked to observe and consider its characters rather than place ourselves inside their lives. A reimagining of Claude Chabrol’s 1969 classic The Unfaithful Wife — also made into the erotic thriller Unfaithful in 2002 with Richard Gere and Diane Lane — against the backdrop of the Ukraine war, wealthy local CEO Gleb (Dmitriy Mazurov) suspects his wife Galina (Iris Lebedeva) of hiding an affair. As the pressure mounts to sacrifice 14 workers to the war effort, Gleb’s family and personal turmoil begin to boil over.

The film excels as both high art drama and family melodrama through this melding of the weight of the personal and the existential. The political undertow pulling us to the violence of the sea is constant and powerfully considered, landing in a place of resonance in its final act that manages to echo Burn After Reading (2008) and postwar Soviet cinema. This high-wire act of tonal precision has to be seen to be believed, particularly with an active and engaged crowd.

Nagi Notes (2026) – Koji Fukada

A gentle, clear-eyed look at human dynamics playing out across the struggling small town of Nagi, Koji Fukada’s probing drama Nagi Notes is deeply fascinated by places and their impact on people, unfolding itself slowly but warmly. 630 kilometres outside Tokyo, Nagi is a small farming town that was forced to sell off most of its land to the government for an army base, creating a transitory aspect to the once stationary place.

The film is centred around a coming and going. The coming: an ex-sister-in-law from the city, Yuri (Shizuka Ishibashi), moves in with sculptor and farmer Yoriko (Takako Matsu), to sit for an art piece. The going: the son of a military family, Keita (Kiyora Fujiwara), tells his friend and crush HarukiIguchi (Kawaguchi Waku) he has to move away in two weeks. The joy of Nagi Notes comes from how Fukada weaves narrative and character dynamics in unexpected ways through this seemingly simple story, so the less said before viewing the better; just know you are in the hands of a caring and inquisitive writer and filmmaker.

***Sweet Milk Lake* (2026) – Harvey Zielinski**

Harvey Zielinski bursts onto the Australian film scene with a debut to remember. Confidently entering the conversation for best Aussie film of the 2020s, Zielinski writes, directs, and leads Sweet Milk Lake (2026) in dual roles as sibling pair Sam and Jake.

Jake has recently transitioned and is struggling for their place in the city while living under the shadow of his more confident and successful brother Sam. While his brother is wonderfully supportive and offers a job to them, Jake is unsure where they see themselves. On an impulse, Jake travels down to the remote country town of Sweet Milk to see his terminally ill father (Kieran Darcy-Smith), who doesn’t know about their transition. After being mistaken for his brother Sam, Jake decides to stay longer than intended in Sweet Milk. The film is a charming and unique look into wider Australian culture and how gender is performed in different contexts while never losing its narrative drive. Zielinski’s writing is assured and moves with a syncopated rhythm that allows the awkward humour and piercing family drama to arrive and crescendo at unexpected moments, making for a thrilling watch.

Josephine (2026) – Beth de Araújo

“In some ways I’ve been writing this since I was eight years old”. A to-the-core film of devastation from the intimate perspective of a child who witnesses a sexual assault and the emotional ripples of that moment. Told from the perspective of Josephine (Mason Reeves), we view the failed attempts at comfort and understanding from the adults surrounding her, particularly her parents, played by Gemma Chan and Channing Tatum.

Beth de Araújo knows in her bones that the only way to tell a story like this is through force. Some may find moments or scenes manipulative or lacking subtlety, but that is to deny the argumentative nature of the filmmaking. This is a film to be shown to all who can see it, not to be watched passively or with any remove. To understand that perspective is to know the power of Josephine.

***La Gradiva* (2026) – Marine Atlan**

A worthy winner of MIFF Bright Horizons competition, cinematographer turned writer and director Marine Atlan has crafted what could be a definitional coming-of-age film through its extraordinary blend of modernity and timelessness.

One of the best films of the year, Atlan and her co-cinematographer Pierre Mazoyer have an eye for documentary-like importance even as the scenes flow with the casualness of youth. Following a French school group on a trip to Pompeii on the precipice of their final exam results, Atlan is delicately placing her characters, with their youthful drive and view of eternality in a famous space of stolen time, swallowed by ash. There is depth here I will be mining for years to come, like staring at an ash-encased body, interpreting the life underneath by the surface and shape placed in front of us.

***Erupcja* (2025) – Pete Ohs**

A soft wisp of a modern 71-minute Godard riff starring Charli XCX as Bethany, a Londoner visiting Warsaw with her soon-to-be fiancé Rob (Will Madden). Questioned why Bethany wanted to go to Warsaw over somewhere like Paris, she responds, “it’s more romantic”. This is a half-truth, as the answer is Nel (a magnetic Lena Góra), who owns a flower shop in town.

Their connection is tectonic, as the pair will tell you. Each time they encounter one another, a volcano erupts. Like the magnificent and frightening energy of the natural event, Bethany and Nel radically change the environment around their reunions, oftentimes leaving others in the ensuing ash. Filmmaker Pete Ohs was clearly working with fragments of ideas and a loose plot coming into production, allowing the ease of connection between the cast to drive the story like the French New Wave films Erupcja is indebted to. The key cast members all have writing and producing credits here, which is deeply felt scene to scene and allows the film to reach several poignant moments inside its modest framework.

***The Only Living Pickpocket in New York* (2026) – Noah Segan**

A charming and thoughtful exploration of aging and legacy shot beautifully across the five boroughs, Noah Segan’s newest film as director longs for a previous golden age of cinema with New York streets operating as its veins. John Turturro excels as Harry, a career pickpocket making do in a world with fewer floating wallets and cash than ever before as he hustles to care for his ailing wife.

Segan’s film is Uncut Gems (2019) in a pair of moccasins, with the stakes never raising the blood pressure too high. An over-the-hill pickpocket moving through the city is a lovely way of weaving through modern life in New York. Harry’s reticence to change tactics to online or credit scams gives him an air of a Lupin-tinged gentleman thief, where even his detective rival, Allen (Giancarlo Esposito) respects him. A delightful film that works best on an older crowd.

***The Samurai and the Prisoner* (2026) – Kiyoshi Kurosawa**

Equal parts political war drama and samurai Columbo, horror master Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s adaptation of the 2021 novel The Samurai and the Prisoner (2026) moves to its own rhythms, knowing its audience is hooked to every moment.

Set in 16th-century Japan, samurai lord Murashige Araki (Masahiro Motoki) is locked in his castle as Oda Nobunaga lays siege to his home. The film begins in earnest when rival envoy Kanbei Kuroda (Masaki Suda) is captured by Murashige. The award-winning novel opens with the line “Toss him in the dungeon; do not let anyone see him and do not kill him. Keep him alive until I say otherwise.” In a time of ruthless killing and few prisoners of war, the stage is set for a defensively woven chamber drama that is keen to charm an audience by its movements towards Agatha Christie and other European-style mystery fiction. The pair of performances between Suda and Motoki is gripping and falls easily into Kurosawa’s unique film style that allows long sequences to play out naturally, ratcheting the tension inside a still frame that has made his horror features the best in the genre. Overlaying this perfected style of storytelling over a samurai chamber epic makes The Samurai and the Prisoner a wholly unique and captivating viewing experience.

***The Man I Love* (2026) – Ira Sachs**

There is a certain surreality that occurs when you’re around a sick person who, after a gruelling treatment process, returns, however fleetingly, to their previous self. An almost religious experience. Screenwriters Ira Sachs and Mauricio Zacharias know this intimately.

Handling the AIDS crisis in 1980s New York with a passion and care for those caught in its crosshairs, and how they choose to respond, Sachs imbues his characters with the dramatic tension of uncertainty and sharp edges, complicating each conversation scene with where we expect it to conclude. Rami Malek and Tom Sturridge have never been better, and with the introduction of Luther Ford to cinema with support from Rebecca Hall and Ebon Moss-Bachrach, Sachs can paint with a wider canvas than his previous couple of films to show the community and isolation of this well-documented era of American history.

A Stellar Cast Can’t Save The Dog Stars From an Undercooked Script

August 26, 2026August 27, 2026Arnel Duracak

The Dog Stars preview screening provided by Disney.

From first glance, The Dog Stars (2026) has the makings of a Ridley Scott film with its post-apocalytic setting giving the veteran director an opportunity to build suspense in the unknown, but it feels like anything but a Ridley Scott film.

Having been adapted for the screen by Mark L. Smith from Peter Heller’s 2012 novel of the same name, the film calls to mind the recent hit show The Last of Us (2023 – ), opting for the same sort of lived-in yet barren wasteland as the backdrop to events. Mankind has experienced a plague of some kind that has taken the lives of the majority and left others scraping by, defending the little they can gather while scavengers work to steal it. Jacob Elordi plays a mechanic who lives out on a big block of land with a rugged Josh Brolin and a dog, Jasper.

The film almost carries a tranquil quality with sweeping vistas, shots of a plane flying over said vistas and just a serenity that makes you wonder how it’ll be disrupted. There’s a whole lofty backstory built around Elordi’s character that informs his attachment to his dog, with flashbacks cutting from the past to the present showing these interactions with his wife. At some point though, the plot needs to move forward and what better way to get it moving than by having a scuffle with those aforementioned scavengers which sees his dog be killed. (John Wick vibes, anyone?). This leads to Hig (Elordi’s character) making the decision to head out with his plane to the “Grand Junction” in search of a mystery voice he’s been picking up while surveying the land from the sky.

Jacob Elordi as Hig and Jasper in 20th Century Studios’ THE DOG STARS.

There’s a sloppiness to the writing to get the plot to this point, and just a randomness to proceedings which doesn’t stop here. Hig ventures out where he crash lands and meets the duo of “pop” (a Guy Pearce who the audience I was with said looked like Brolin) and a young former medical student Cima (Margaret Qualley). Here, the film splits into two: you have Brolin’s character facing a wrath of skinhead-like scavengers who look like they’ve been pulled from Mad Max: Fury Road (2015), and Elordi and co getting acquainted.

The latter side sees a wonky, unconvincing love subplot be thrown in between Elordi and Qualley’s characters that is incredibly underwritten and isn’t helped by the actors having zero chemistry with each other. Elordi’s performance also feels incredibly stale —no doubt due to the terrible writing— and probably wasn’t helped by him being cast on account of Paul Mescal dropping out of the film (there’ll be no Oscar nomination this time like when Elordi was recast in the Frankenstein’s monster role).

It’s as though there was a desire to have a more contemplative approach to a novel with writing that no doubt reads that way, but the need to add action and energy was playing on people’s minds so some of it was thrown in for good measure. Beyond that, there just isn’t the punchiness of a Ridley film; the stakes feel watered down, the set pieces are quite blasé and this just plays like a very ‘autopilot’ project from a director we know can do so much more.

The Dog Stars opens nationally from 27 August 2026.

The Odyssey is the Epic Christopher Nolan has been Working Towards his Entire Career

July 16, 2026July 16, 2026Arnel Duracak

The Odyssey Melbourne premiere screening provided by Universal Pictures

As one of the seminal works in literature, The Odyssey brought the mythical down to Earth, pitted gods against man and set the tone for the sort of storytelling we have seen ever since across various mediums. There have been numerous adaptations in film and TV, some focusing on key moments like Troy (2004) and The Return (2024) while others were more loose in their approach like O Brother, Where Art Thou (2000), but Christopher Nolan’s rendition stands on its own as a triumphant exercise in scale and possibility, breathing new life into a classic.

While scholars largely agree that The Odyssey was communicated orally before ever being written down anywhere, the question of whether Homer was ever actually one person or one part of a whole has always been a point of contention. What is unmistakable is that Nolan writes his version for the screen entirely in IMAX, a trailblazing feat for a director who has constantly worked to push the medium forward. His effort has seen a widespread ‘pilgrimage’ from devoted fans to locations that are showcasing the film in all its 70mm glory (one of which is here in Melbourne), and it’s worth every effort to see in that way.

Nolan’s film finds a balance between the more contemplative moments of the novel and the sudden shifts in momentum as tension brews. Godly interactions are replaced with allusions to greater powers like the crash of thunder, flashbacks are used seamlessly to connect one moment to the next, and the film is underscored by layers of greed and regret that compliment rather than detract from the unfurling of events. After all, Nolan has always been interested in men who have self-destructive tendencies and carry grief, greed and regret within them which makes Odysseus (played expertly by Matt Damon) the perfect vessel from which to delve further into that thematic exploration.

L to R: Anne Hathaway is Penelope and Tom Holland is Telemachus in *The Odyssey*, written, produced, and directed by Christopher Nolan.

Odysseus, like Oppenheimer, carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and people will live and die based on his actions; however, for Oppenheimer that weight threatened to destroy the world while for Odysseus, it threatens to destroy him. It’s why his journey from Ithaca to the beaches of Troy tickles Nolan’s fancy, a journey that is met by moments where the sacrifice of the few is in service of the collective whole. It leads to some of Nolan’s most haunting images of said greed, where the trials and tribulations from the novel bring into question what is morally right (like burying dead warriors) versus what is necessary (escaping and surviving).

It does take a good 30 or so minutes to actually get the ball rolling, as establishing an epic of this scale with so many potential directions to springboard from is no easy ask. This is especially the case as Nolan works to figure out how to get Telemachus (Tom Holland) out of Ithaca and away from the suitors like Antinous (Robert Pattinson) courting his mother Penelope (Anne Hathaway) while bringing Odysseus into the picture as soon as possible.

The Odyssey isn’t a complex story, but finding a way to navigate the presence of gods which so crucially inform every cause and effect chain in the story, is a challenge, especially since Nolan’s approach usually involves crashing non-chronological moments into each other like oars against rocks. His approach here is a bit more considered and surprisingly seamless though, as flashbacks do a lot of heavy lifting, cutting from the past to the present; from Calypso’s (Charlize Theron) gradual unlocking of Odysseus’ memory to Telemachus hearing the stories of his father’s journey from those who battled with him like Menelaus (Jon Bernthal). The key moment the flashbacks come back to, and the part of The Odyssey that even those who haven’t read it will be most familiar with, is the Trojan horse infiltrating Troy. This is the nucleus that bridges the rest of the film together, showing the path that Odysseus and his men took that ultimately led him to his predicament.

*The Odyssey*, written, produced, and directed by Christopher Nolan.

This path leads them from encounters with creatures like a cyclops that was physically built to tower over the actors, to a forest of giants in armour that equally tower like the Mountain from Game of Thrones, and an encounter with the dead men in ‘hell’ where ice and fire meet. A particular highlight occurs with Circe (Samantha Morton), a witch who conjures dark magic to usurp her victims. Without spoilng too much, her presence (along with that of the aforementioned creatures) almost evokes an element of horror that is reminiscent of Sam Raimi’s little horror moments throughout his Spider-Man films, and makes a strong case for a Nolan horror film at some point. The visual effects of these encounters are used sparingly, giving the film its mythical edge without overwhelming the meditative, ponderous tone that Nolan is going for.

These encounters leave Odysseus a wreck just like his ship was for the greed his men showed when they went against the wisdom that he granted them, falling victim to their own desires and demise, and Odysseus, to his self-reckoning. Matt Damon’s performance is enchanting and really crucial in buying into Odysseus’ emotional plight; he commands the screen and, especially in the film’s closing stages, brings an awe to the character that I can best compare to the first time you see Luke Skywalker take his hood off at the end of Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015). The supporting cast are just as crucial, with Robert Pattinson playing the part of a nuisance you can’t wait to see killed, with a grace that has characterised his career, and John Leguizamo grounding the scenes back at Ithaca as the watchful Eumaeus.

The Odyssey is ultimately about one man’s journey home, charting his rise and fall from different vantage points all the while giving an otherworldly and godly feel to his presence without ever having to spell out and showcase the actual gods and their moments of intervention. Propelled forward by a rapturous score from Ludwig Göransson, one that holds tension as it pounds in synths and drumbeats that have the aura of battle about them and is supported by a hefty, transportative soundscape, as well as strong performances across the deck, Nolan’s film has the wonder of Lawrence of Arabia (1962) and the transcendent look of Denis Villeneuve’s Dune films. It is unequivocally Nolan’s film though, with the result being a measured, meditative look at the cost of triumph, the bodies it leaves in its wake, and the weight of decisions that stick with us long after we have made them.

The Odyssey opens nationally from today.

Milly Alcock Shines While Supergirl Struggles

June 25, 2026June 25, 2026Arnel Duracak

Supergirl fan screening provided by Universal Pictures

When James Gunn and Peter Safran were tasked with reinvigorating the DC Universe, it was clear that a shakeup involving culling star faces like Henry Cavill, Gal Gadot and Jason Momoa (to name a few) heralded a no nonsense approach to this task. Of course, actors out-age the characters they play, and Gunn’s first film in this new phase of the DC Universe, Superman (2025), replaced one of the staple names of that universe in Cavill.

The second DC film to be released in this new phase, Supergirl (2026) never had to face that Cavill-ier sized backlash given this was the first mainline Supergirl movie. While Gunn isn’t at the helm this time around, his fingerprints are all over Craig Gillespe’s film, a director known for more measured character studies rather than big budget blockbusters. It’s easy to see why Gillespe was viewed as the right man for this job though: films like I, Tonya (2017) and Cruella (2021) follow the origin story of strong female characters and see them manifest into something larger than life that they never saw in themselves to begin with. Naturally, that makes Supergirl a super candidate for a director like Gillespe.

While that is the case to an extent this time around, Gunn’s said fingerprints have left smudges on Kara Zor-El / Supergirl (Milly Alcock), keeping her feeling like she’s being held back by kryptonite —poor writing, drab subplots and a one dimensional villain — rather than allowed to charge up and shine in a similar way to David Corenswet’s Superman.

Opening with a scene involving a family being slaughtered by chief movie villain Krem (Matthias Schoenaerts), lone survivor Ruthye (Eve Ridley) is left wanting revenge for their murder. She soon finds Kara drinking away in one of her pub crawls, with the duo eventually teaming up after Kara’s dog Krypto, is poisoned by Krem as he steals her ship and flys off. If this sounds like a sort of pseudo-revenge John Wick dog movie, you’re bang on the money. But revenge isn’t what Ruthye should be seeking, or so Kara tries to hammer into her. There’s more to life than revenge, Kara goes on, so let me handle this…oh wait you didn’t listen to me and now we’re on a buddy up adventure involving Marvel like one-liners and less than flashy CGI.

It’s telling that in reinvigorating DC, Gunn has done a control c, control v approach to these first two films. While I can’t blame him for utlising a tried and true formula that (really) he put in motion with Guardians of the Galaxy (2014) —for better and worse— it reduces the film to a predictable, beat-by-beat exercise where Supergirl could be replaced by Wonder Woman and you wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

Milly Alcock does as much as she can with a script that washes over any stakes with a shrug of the shoulder and cheeky wink. Krem is about as one-dimensional a superhero villain as they come, right up there with Christian Bale’s Gorr. His motives are unclear, as he steals swords and young women who he wants to wed off in some sense like he’s Immortan Joe from Mad Max: Fury Road (2015).

The plot is as much tied to Ruthye’s character as it is to Kara, and it leaves a lot to be desired in the way of character development and a reason to care about what is happening to these people. There’s flashbacks to Kara’s home planet, giving us a different perspective to the fall of Krypton that we’ve always gotten in a Superman film. It’s welcome and makes sense for a character we haven’t seen much of on the big screen, but it leaves the moments in the present feeling short lived. Jason Momoa jets around as Lobo on a motorcycle, having as much fun as he can while scoffing down bears and revving the engine (not far from what he does in real life), and some of the action is serviceable, but beyond that this feels like a set up to an inevitable Superman and Supergirl movie at some point.

Ultimately, Gillespe’s film chooses to look forward and remind audiences that Supergirl will be a part of a wider Justice League at some point rather than giving her an origin story worth its weight.

Supergirl opens nationally from today.

The Death of Robin Hood Pierces the Heart of a Legend

June 18, 2026Darcy Read

Screening provided by Madman Entertainment.

As the title suggests, The Death of Robin Hood (2026) begins with Robin Hood seemingly at the end of his journey. Somewhat of an extended coda, he has no desire to continue; Robin Hood (an aged and grizzled Hugh Jackman) spends his days pushing through the days, weighed towards the centre of the Earth by the gravity of his past. Long gone are his famous troupe who scampered across England as outlaws, robbing the rich and giving to the poor.

Instead, the famed outlaw is alone in the English hearth, making do with simple hunting to survive with no home or companionship. It is not until his old friend Little John (Bill Skarsgård) asks Robin for help rescuing his wife and daughter from bandits that the outlaw is pushed to purpose. This scene is quickly riddled with conflict, as in the same breath we learn of how Little John came about this family; having acquired them after he killed their husband and father years prior.

Filmmaker Michael Sarnoski made a name for himself with his 2021 breakout, Pig, starring Nicolas Cage, a mature and reflective look at an older man with a lifetime of regrets forced back into society through violence — all themes that also drive The Death of Robin Hood. It is fascinating that Sarnoski, the now 31-year-old American, has a deep pull to these stories and is deftly able to probe humanist questions on regret at the beginning of his artistic career.

The metatextual element of casting Hugh Jackman as the waking ghost of Robin Hood is effective, layering on his legacy as an old-fashioned showman to this storied character worthy of reinvestigation. Similar in many respects to Logan (2017), Jackman’s greatest performance as the weathered Wolverine, Robin Hood is a man with a code that can easily morph into self-mythologisation through nothing but the immovable passage of time. The stories we tell ourselves to survive, especially ones that shield us from the stories others tell about us, drive Robin, even in his withered state. Throughout the film, Robin is both correcting the record of his folklore and forgetting the names of those he has slain, a fascinating bit of oscillation that creates an engine of revisionism that powers Sarnoski’s gritty screenplay.

From Left: Hugh Jackman and Bill Skarsgård in *The Death of Robin Hood.*

Whether Sarnoski is deeply connected to the Robin Hood folk tale or just enjoyed one of many depictions across cinema, his iteration on the character is a mere shorthand to investigate the life of an outlaw defined by mythmaking and storytelling that justifies one’s violence until violence is all that remains. This is a film with a relentless drive to revise notions of history at scale through an intimate lens.

The Death of Robin Hood is an adult film that wields its violence with a sharp knife. It cares for its impact both in the moment and in how it ripples through generations. Beginning with a stark moment of brutal violence – Robin killing a teenager who has come for revenge in the night is straight out of Robert Eggers’ grimy historical epic The Northman (2022), a lynchpin inspiration here – Sarnoski is signalling to the audience the film to come. This moment is one of a long line of sons and daughters seeking revenge on Robin’s trail of blood. Even through several wistful and lyrical sequences that weave in and out of the film, it is this graphic violence that chains the story to the damp soil.

After the rescue attempt goes as expected for a film this cold and bleak, Robin is beaten and left within inches of a death he so clearly craves, and shipped out to an island priory to heal. Surprisingly, in a shrewd piece of filmmaking, this island is where we are left for the remainder of the film. The film is split in two, with Robin Hood made to support the small community led by the prioress, sister Bridgid (Jodie Comer), as his wounds heal. A bifurcated film is difficult to pull off, but Sarnoski’s lush visual lyricism creates a flowing river of moments that land.

Jodie Comer in *The Death of Robin Hood*.

Plucked from the Sheffield folk scene, musician Jim Ghedi’s score and soundtrack both shroud and dampen the opening section of the film as much as they light the scenes in the priory. Coupled with an aspect ratio shift after the first act, cinematographer Pat Scola focuses on the warmth of sunlight seemingly hitting Robin’s cheek for the first time in decades. Sarnoski is driven to guide the famed outlaw and us towards the light.

But the past cannot be willfully ignored even at an island retreat. With new visitors steadily coming to the priory for care, Robin’s desire to fade into obscurity becomes harder and harder. Coupled with this is the punishing repetition of Robin Hood not remembering those he has killed along his journey. This is the sturdy rock Sarnoski’s film is built on. The why does not matter, as the why never matters when it comes to those that carry on the legacy of those that have been lost. There is only the loss.

For a film with a loud fight scene set in front of a burning building, it surprisingly has its most gripping moment in an infirmary, involving several intimate bloodletting scenes between Comer and Jackson, with Sarnoski carefully building up the tension of his grisly film to this point. Comer elevates these moments and the back half of the film even as her character is kept to the side, with Sarnoski clearly driven by singular character portraits and how people enter and exit a person’s life.

Whether it arrives at its emotional climax in its dying moments with legitimacy is in the eye of the beholder, but Sarnoski is serious enough about his adult drama to conclude his film with an aching sentimentality that is all too rare. With a sturdy ensemble that occasionally elevates above Sarnoski’s considered lens, The Death of Robin Hood is the dramatic adult period piece probing at the heart of heroism and violence that is rarely seen on a big screen anymore. Now all we need is Sarnoski to make his Ned Kelly film.

The Death of Robin Hood is in theatres now.

Pixar marks the (possible) end of an era with Hoppers

June 16, 2026June 11, 2026Tom Parry

A feeling of unease went through Pixar’s fanbase not so long ago when the animation studio’s Chief Creative Officer, Pete Docter expressed his plans to move away from the auteur-driven, autobiographical narratives of recent years and focus more on universal stories that “appeal to everybody”. Those words proved worrisome, for they implied that Emeryville would forgo the creative risk-taking which helped establish its box-office dominance and regress to producing safe, marketable fluff. Strange words they were too, coming from the very same man who directed tales about creatures who lurk in bedroom cupboards, an elderly widower flying his house to South America, personified emotions who inhabit our consciousness, and a jazz musician coming to terms with his mortality – and, produced this creative endeavour.

Mabel Tanaka (voice of Piper Curda) is a university student and passionate environmentalist whose love of the natural world often places her at odds with her city’s vain and development-willed leader, Mayor Jerry Generazzo (Jon Hamm) who wishes to build a freeway over her favourite forest. In fact, so strong is Mabel’s passion for the locale that she’s willing to hijack her college’s “Hopping” device – experimental technology that allows humans to transfer their psyche into a robot – and disguise herself as a lifelike, mechanical beaver just to find evidence to tarnish the Mayor’s reputation. But her actions give her far greater powers than she realises, not least the ability to understand and converse with other fauna in the forest, which is used to its full advantage. And then some!

Hoppers (2026) emanates from a returnee to the Pixar fold, Daniel Chong, a name most would associate as the creator of Cartoon Network’s We Bare Bears. Having risen through the studio’s ranks as a storyboard artist in his earlier years, one might reasonably expect this picture to mirror the sensibilities of other productions in its catalogue from stalwarts like Docter or Andrew Stanton; yet in truth, it’s closer in manner and style to Domee Shi’s Turning Red (2022) which, alongside Enrico Casarosa’s Luca (2021) and Peter Sohn’s Elemental (2023) has been labelled as one of those autobiographical films that supposedly didn’t resonate with a wider audience. That fact shouldn’t be viewed as a slight, for the idiosyncratic Turning Red is the company’s best release of the past decade on account of its unique premise, energy, and will to stray from an established formula.

More than a few attributes are shared between Chong’s feature and Shi’s – most overtly, both have as their lead protagonist a female adolescent of Asian descent who possesses the ability to transform into an animal, either through machinery or a supernatural inheritance. The parallels extend to the comedy, with no lack of silliness in either title; and the visuals, evidence of which includes the ultra-expressive faces of their characters, and the way their pupils dilate and irises contract rapidly to convey their sudden realisations, fear or excitement. Yet Hoppers is far from a measly duplicate of what Shi produced, on account of its better third-act, a distinctive art-style unlike any seen in a Pixar concoction before, and connections with a certain other property.

Mabel Tanaka (as a beaver) with King George (an actual beaver) in Pixar’s *Hoppers*

Those familiar with the aforementioned Bears will find several of the animated programme’s traits also present in this film, including a family-friendly tone, quirky sense of humour, eccentric talking mammals, ponderings on the juxtaposition of nature and modernity, and two of the series’ principal cast members: Demetri “Ice Bear” Martin, here voicing a flock of talkative birds in a cameo, and Bobby “Panda” Moynihan as George, a beaver and the Mammal King of the besieged forest Mabel seeks to protect. Moynihan’s voice is instantly recognisable, though not the manner in which he speaks; where before he played a neurotic, whiny and easily-lovestruck character, now he’s an outgoing, independent and upbeat leader who provides the ideal personality for Mabel to interact with and Hoppers with its wholesome soul.

Further setting this movie apart from these other two titles, and its Pixar companions is the gags, which find a perfect balance in appealing to both younger and older viewers. The undoubted highlight in this regard is a silly, yet joyous sequence where George leads his fellow beavers in building a dam to the tune of Loverboy’s “Working for the Weekend”, which had this reviewer wearing the dopiest grin, while another somewhat macabre scene involving the death of a character resulted in him falling into a fit of hysterical laughter. The comedy is also refreshingly self-aware, openly acknowledging the similarities its premise shares with James Cameron’s Avatar (2009) and letting the dialogue note the absurdity of what’s happening on-screen.

If audiences are to take Mr Docter at his word and soon pay witness a new era at Pixar Animation Studios, at least this latest epoch has ended on a high with the outfit’s funniest and most bonkers feature-length production yet. Hoppers may not be as original nor as revelatory as its stablemates, but it is nevertheless a charmer with plenty of heart that showcases what’s possible when you place trust in the creative forces behind a project. Daniel Chong is one such force, a director whose hitherto untapped talents are likely to be called on frequently in the years ahead.

Hoppers is streaming in Australia on Disney+ from Wednesday, June 17th.

Scary Movie Brings the OG’s Back for One Last Hurrah

June 4, 2026June 5, 2026Arnel Duracak

Scary Movie preview screening provided by Paramount Pictures

It’s taken 25 years but the original ‘OG’ cast of the Scary Movie franchise is back in this latest outing, promising audiences new and old a “non woke” Scary Movie that unashamedly pokes fun at anything and everything. While they deliver on that promise, it’s more of a tempered return for a franchise that hasn’t had a new entry in 13 years after the dreadful Scary Movie 5 (2013).

With the Wayan’s back and playing a bigger role following the creative fallout they had with producers after the first two films, the level of self awareness is palpable, both in terms of criticism of the drama they had and the whole “this is a movie, we know it’s a movie, we’re doing movie tropes” aspect. This starts right from the reintroduction of Ghostface who is back to deal with some unfinished slicing and dicing. His motives quickly become clear in classic Scary Movie spewed exposition style: use the new “kids of the OG stars” cast as a means to get to the OG stars and kill them for good.

From there a game of cat and mouse takes place, with Ghostface targeting characters one by one, but with the added element of multiple spin-offs on modern horrors peppered throughout. It’s the most a Scary Movie film has satirised other horror titles, with everything from Get Out (2017) to Weapons (2025) in the mix and it delivers the comedic bite sized ‘bits’ that these films have perfected over the years. While the humour feels a bit less zany and original than in the first few films —especially with the added element of a YouTube star and Gen Z humour that, while topical, feels misplaced and done to death— there are some unique bits that I won’t say much on (one involves the Get Out tea cup scene).

Marlon Wayans plays Shorty in *Scary Movie*

Most of the humour is derived from the original cast picking up where they left off with their antics. Legendary final girl Cindy (Anna Faris) brings her classic astonished facial expressions back, Shorty (Marlon Wayans) has his cracker jack stoner down pat, Ray (Shawn Wayans) continues being the most uncloseted closeted gay man in cinema, and Brenda Meeks (Regina Hall) slots back into her unapologetic role as Cindy’s friend. There are other side characters from the first two films mixed in as well, but take that game of guess who with you to the screening.

There’s a triumphant sendoff in the closing act, with a reclaiming of what was once taken from the Wayans’. It’s a subversive closing sequence that spins the idea of passing the torch on to the next generation on its head, and it feels like a big F U to the lack of creativity in Hollywood.

While much has changed in the 26 years since Scary Movie (2000) there’s a bitter-sweetness with seeing this cast reunited on-screen again, especially knowing that these sorts of films were such a staple of early 2000s teen cinema. Other titles that really should never have had a sequel like Happy Gilmore 2 (2025) have pandered to audiences and were unable to capture the glee of their unhinged, uncompromising humour when they were released. At least with the Scary Movie franchise, poking fun has always been the name of the game, and you can always count on a new Scream movie to give you a reason to riff on Ghostface one more time.

Scary Movie opens nationally from today

Masters of the Universe Banks on Nostalgia to Revive He-Man and Friends for the Big-Screen

June 2, 2026June 2, 2026Arnel Duracak

Masters of the Universe preview screening provided by Sony Pictures

The last time I felt this head-scratchy about how a big budget fantasy adventure film got such a… well… big budget, my expectations were surprisingly surpassed. That film was Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves (2023), and while it was based on a board game that’s revered by millions around the world, I couldn’t help but wonder whether an 80s animated show like He-Man and the Masters of the Universe could resonate with audiences in the same way. While a more formulaic adaptation compared to Honour Among Thieves, Travis Knight’s Masters of the Universe (2026) is serviceable, sticking close to its source material and offering audiences both familiar and new, an alternative hero action brawler.

This isn’t the first time He-Man and friends have come to the big screen in live action form either, with a 1987 film of the same name starring Dolph Lundgren being the first foray, and there are callbacks to the original including a little cameo from Lundgren himself. But this version of He-Man (played by Nicholas Galitzine) carries less of that 80s machismo that characterised the 1987 film and many other classic titles like Running Man (1987), First Blood (1982), Conan the Barbarian (1982) and more. Unsurprisingly, all of those titles have gotten (or are getting) modern adaptations that have toned that machoistic vibe down while still retaining the stoic qualities of their ‘hero’ characters.

Knight’s Masters of the Universe builds a down-on-his-luck HR worker backstory to this version of Prince Adam of Eternia (He-Man) after he is sent crashing to Earth along with the Sword of Power following a takeover by Skeletor (Jared Leto). Having lost the sword while being teleported to Earth, Adam’s next 15 years on Earth are spent trying to locate it so that he can wield it and say some magic words that will help bring him back home. This involves him going out to dates that he makes weird by talking about how he’s from another planet and he goes to his soul sucking HR job where he spends time posting ads on internet forums to locate the sword. While he does eventually locate it and return home with the help of childhood friend Teela (Camila Mendes), his home isn’t how he remembered it, with crumbling ruins and enslaved people under the rule of Skeletor.

Jared Leto stars as ‘Skeletor’ in *Masters of the Universe*.

Everything happens rather quickly once Adam is back on Eternia including just how quickly he becomes a brute thanks to the power of the sword. I’m sure Masters of the Universe fans don’t see this as out of the ordinary as it’s clear the sword gives him god like power and strength, but the speed at which Adam comes out of his shell and morphs from his scrawny physique —which doesn’t make sense as he looks huge under his pink shirt— into a Steve Rogers type beefcake, is jarring. I can appreciate Knight wanting to just get audiences into the thick of the fun and games, but it’s almost like a Rey Star Wars moment where she harnesses the force willy-nilly. The action that follows, however, is solid, even if the CGI that supports it can look quite washed out like when Adam rides his trusty green lion into battle or when he’s flying a little ship through a green forest — large set pieces just don’t blend well with the actors.

Most of the plot revolves around this Sword of Power, something that Skeletor uses Adam’s enslaved parents as leverage to obtain. It brings much of the action together including a big battle sequence in Skeletor’s lair above a sea of lava, and ties the closing act at Castle Grayskull together. The stakes ultimately don’t feel like they ever threaten to overwhelm Adam though, even after he is captured along with his friends. But that 80s charm does still shine through in moments, especially with the signature theme song serving to amplify each punch and tussle, with these nostalgia aspects being what Knight’s film rides on to be as faithful to people’s memories of the show while carving out its own place as a modern blockbuster.

Masters of the Universe opens nationally from 4 June.

This Power Ballad is Off Key

May 28, 2026May 31, 2026Darcy Read

Power Ballad preview screening provided by Madman.

Like the familiar restaurant on the corner that knows your order as you open the door, one knows what to expect coming into a John Carney film. A focus on the healing power of music. The power music has in mending frayed relationships as well as allowing new ones to bloom.

In Power Ballad (2026), Carney shifts into a contrasting mix of styles, with a more Judd Apatow American studio-comedy style pushing up against his sharp but enchanting Irish swoon. Carney’s characters are always down on their luck but never out for the count, an element that allows for some iconic screen performances over the last 20 years.

Enter Paul Rudd as the washed-up wedding band singer, Rick. Settled into his life in Dublin with wife Rachel (Marcella Plunkett) and teenage daughter Aja (Beth Fallon), Rick tours around local weddings performing the thankless task that has been swapped out to DJs in recent years. This is somehow not a pressing issue for a film that has a strange, outside-of-time quality that is destabilising, one of many aspects that slow the film down in its desperate search for greater drive.

Nick Jonas as Danny and Paul Rudd as Rick in Power Ballad. Photo Credit: David Cleary

The drama that pushes the film forward occurs when an ex-boy band member, Danny (Nick Jonas), gets up on stage and performs with Rick and the band at the wedding, which spirals into an all-nighter between the pop star and the wedding singer. The conversations are as you expect, without a hint of passion or interiority that is needed for these scenes to serve as the spark that allows a feature film to burn.

Desperate to be taken seriously, Danny steals one of Rick’s songs he plays for him late at night, turning it into his breakthrough hit, wielding the song’s lifetime of anguish and pain for his own gain, never fully grappling with the song he’s singing. There is a powerful thread Carney weaves throughout the film about the potency of original songwriting compared to the pop machine version of being given a song to sculpt, even if it never develops into much inside the film’s narrative. Upon hearing Danny’s version and his ensuing success, Rick is driven insane, especially as none of his loved ones can remember him ever playing it for them.

Seemingly built out of a desire for metatextuality with Nick Jonas’s casting, Power Ballad doesn’t seem all that interested in developing the film into a tale of two musicians, but rather of a faded musician and singer having what he views as his life’s work taken from under him. Carney seems completely unsure of the relationship we should be cultivating with Danny, leaving him for long stretches of the film where the crux of his emotional narrative is taking shape.

Nick Jonas as Danny and Havana Rose Liu as Marcia in Power Ballad. Photo Credit: David Cleary

When we finally do return to Danny’s story, the audience spends the majority of the scene playing catch-up with the film to understand the emotional context in which we find him. This never gives Jonas a chance to prove himself here or elevate the material, which is in desperate need of a great performance. While it’s charming to see Rudd settle into a role in a small-budget film with this and the wonderful 2024 comedy Friendship, the results are mixed. Due to the hacked-up nature of the film and edit, Rudd’s relaxed improvisational style gets no air to breathe in scenes compared to the Tim Robinson film, ending up in a bizarre mixture of languid pacing and disjointed scene shifts.

Coupled with these issues is the film being fuelled by a confounding engine of anti-drama. So reticent to enjoy the fruits of the music film genre tropes that we do not enjoy much of anything throughout. So when we eventually arrive at the climactic confrontation between Rick and Danny, the film rests its shoulders on, none of the legwork has been done to appreciate anything in the scene, falling completely flat.

There is no more egregious sin the film makes than introducing a fascinating relationship with Danny and Marcia (Havanna Rose Liu), only to break up this relationship through a choppy news clipping montage straight out of 2006. Do Carney and co-writer Peter McDonald not believe audiences are interested in that personal dynamic? Was this a studio note to cut down time? These are not questions that should be asked of a light dramedy of this scale.

Power Ballad is in theatres now.

Mortal Kombat II is Rollicking Popcorn Cinema 101

May 7, 2026May 6, 2026Arnel Duracak

Mortal Kombat II preview screening provided by Universal Pictures

Delivering the batters and the blows, Mortal Kombat II is an unhinged follow-up to the 2021 hit, Mortal Kombat. There’s combat, sometimes it’s mortal, but more often than not it’s downright bloody and brutal, and it makes you wonder where the last two hours at the cinema went. That’s usually a good sign as Simon McQuoid’s film wastes no time throwing you into the action and giving you exactly what the poster spells out.

Earth’s mightiest heroes are tasked with once again defending Earth from an external threat —I know, that sounds a lot like another franchise about superpowered butt kickers— but this time around they face a new threat: Shao Kahn (Martyn Ford). It’s in Johnny Cage (a brilliantly cast Karl Urban riding his success from hit TV show The Boys), the unlikeliest of heroes, that salvation for Earth might be found. Teased at the end of Mortal Kombat, this out-of-work former action star has been chosen by the gods as one of Earth’s saviours, much to his own surprise. Encouraged by the existing heroes like Lord Raiden (Tadanobu Asano), Liu Kang (Ludi Lin), Sonya Blade (Jessica McNamee) and others, he will form a crucial part in stopping Shao Khan from taking over Earth as its ruler.

That’s really the crux of the premise. There’s a secret amulet thrown in for good measure that grants immortality to its wearer, and Josh Lawson’s Kano is resurrected to help locate it (it turns out it wasn’t that far away, in his pocket), but beyond that the film is a pure action showcase with cheesy one liners, decently choreographed action sequences, and just everything a fan of Mortal Kombat might want in a film about Mortal Kombat.

(L-R) Max Huang as “Kung Lao”, and Ludi Lin as “Liu Kang” in New Line Cinema’s “Mortal Kombat 2,”

When it comes to the standouts, Lawson brings his signature larrikin humour with quirky observations and pop culture references aplenty (from Dumbledore to Voldemort, there’s no shortage). It brings added respite to the action which, while the CGI isn’t groundbreaking (look out for Karl Urban falling down some rocks in Hell and you’ll know what I mean), delivers all the pows and whacks that you’d expect. Speaking of Urban, he is charismatic and slick as Johnny Cage and really nails the brief of a has-been-actor turned real-life-buttkicker.

The same can’t be said for the remainder of the cast. The supporting performances feel quite stale and jaded in comparison to these two, which is owed to their one-dimensional writing (it’s like if the actors from The Bold and the Beautiful suddenly stumbled onto a real movie set). At the end of the day, great storytelling isn’t what one signs up for when going into a Mortal Kombat film; the stakes are as simple as: fight to survive. But it’s ultimately a shortcoming in the script that you can’t ignore and that leaves you really just hoping the supporting characters talk less and fight more.

With superhero movies having had their heyday and running a bit out of steam for the moment, it’s telling that video game adaptations are as popular as ever. Between the Mortal Kombat and Sonic franchise of films, A24 is producing a live action Elden Ring movie helmed by Alex Garland, The Legend of Zelda is being shot in New Zealand, and Street Fighter (2026) is around the corner. While Paul W. S. Anderson’s Mortal Kombat (1995) will always hold a special place in my heart, Mortal Kombat II finds its strengths in not reinventing the wheel too much, but in letting its mayhem wash over you for a few hours while you chow down on your popcorn and coke (maybe with some Jack), and sometimes that’s all you really need.

Mortal Kombat II opens nationally from today.

All of a Sudden (2026) – Ryusuke Hamaguchi

Minotaur (2026) – Andrey Zvyagintsev

Nagi Notes (2026) – Koji Fukada

Sweet Milk Lake (2026) – Harvey Zielinski

Josephine (2026) – Beth de Araújo

La Gradiva (2026) – Marine Atlan

Erupcja (2025) – Pete Ohs

The Only Living Pickpocket in New York (2026) – Noah Segan

The Samurai and the Prisoner (2026) – Kiyoshi Kurosawa

The Man I Love (2026) – Ira Sachs