comedy – Rating Frames

One Battle After Another: Paul Thomas Anderson’s Latest is the Year’s Best, an Instant Classic

September 22, 2025September 22, 2025Arnel Duracak

One Battle After Another preview screening provided by Universal Pictures

Even as I found myself slouched into the cinema seat, still having not adjusted to the timezone after a recent overseas vacation, Paul Thomas Anderson’s One Battle After Another (2025) woke me up, slapped me around and reminded me why I spent a year researching his work. There are few working directors who have stayed as true to form as PTA has, and even fewer who have dared to push quirky, unpredictable narratives and irreverent characters at such a scale out to audiences; One Battle After Another might just be the quirkiest, most unpredictable film he’s ever made, and easily one of the rare few that a studio has decided to back, with such a big budget.

While One Battle After Another, at least on paper, has all of the elements of a PTA film —themes of surrogacy, a focus on damaged male characters and dialogue that has you think twice and then twice more— it also feels like his most relevant film to date and not because of smart phones or modern mustangs, but because it isn’t a period piece, it isn’t looking back in ways that There Will be Blood (2007) or Inherent Vice (2014) were. This film plays like it’s very much a forward-looking, foreshadowing of what’s to come if we let forces greater than us hunt us down in the little spaces we’ve carved out for ourselves in a world that feels like it’s already getting smaller around us.

And it’s immediately apparent from the opening sequence that this isn’t going to be your stock standard PTA flick, with a harsher, almost street-like quality to the cinematography. We open with Perfidia (Teyana Taylor), a revolutionary who is scouting an immigration camp before we’re introduced to Bob Ferguson (Leonardo DiCaprio), and other grungy looking revolutionaries who are looking to cause calculated havoc in similar encampments and eventually, across banks and other establishments as well. The political undertones of the film are clear, but the whirlwind that’s to follow is unimaginable.

It doesn’t take long for things to shift to fifth gear as narcissistic leader of said camp/s, Steven J. Lockjaw (a career best Sean Penn and shoo-in for supporting actor), someone who detests African Americans but in being humiliated by Perfidia, falls head over heels for her (hey, everyone’s got a kink), is on a mission to hunt down every revolutionary involved in these acts of defiance. While he does hunt/kill most of them, Bob and his daughter Willa (played in youth age later by Chase Infiniti) are extracted to a safe haven while Perfidia, finding herself in witness protection, escapes to Mexico.

LEONARDO DI CAPRIO as Bob Ferguson in “One Battle After Another.” A Warner Bros. Pictures Release.

A time jump to 16 years later caps off a first act that is as balls-to-the-wall as any PTA has attempted (with 1997’s Boogie Nights coming in at a distant second). It’s telling that like Bob, who goes into hiding with his daughter while others hunt him down in this almost cat and mouse plot at the centre of this film, PTA has (in a way) almost been doing the same, or at the very least, trying to find a version of himself who’d warm up to the idea of being more in touch with the immediate world as it unfolds. While PTA can never be accused of playing things safe —in fact, his framing of thematic interests has only shifted as he’s aged and as he’s had his own children— he’s at his most abrasive, rampant self here.

For starters, PTA doesn’t attempt to play to the good vs evil, right vs wrong binary tendencies that so many weaker political thrillers tend to. Instead, he uses this strange love triangle (if it can be called that), between Bobb, Lockjaw and Perfidia, and a focus on character, to let any surrounding commentary seep in from. Ultimately this is a film about a father/daughter dynamic that’s complicated by an equally complicated lunatic whose motive (without spoiling) in hunting them is far more nuanced than simply getting rid of them.

What ensues is an electrifying, chaotically focused, yet hearty film that never slows down but keeps you on your toes until its classic finale that’s already entered legendary status. To get to that point, Johnny Greenwood’s edgy, almost chimey score keeps the tension flowing and builds on the unnerving aura of not knowing what’s around the corner. This is coupled with the equally unnerving performances of Penn, DiCaprio and Infiniti, with the former having a duality and complex that feels insane to have been pulled off, while Leo has a hipster edginess that’s underpinned by a desire to be didactic yet his paranoia is leaving him out of sorts (this pairing between PTA and Leo is a match made in heaven).

Like the characters in this film, PTA is a revolutionary but of a different cause: the preservation of cinema. In shooting One Battle After Another, he decided to bring back VistaVision (a dying breed of film format). It speaks to his desire to find meaning and breathe life into things often deemed unworthy or better left to fade with time, and this desire is almost felt on the screen with a character like Bob who’s brought back from the brink, from a place where he’s almost lost sight of himself and who he was, and risks fading away into someone that once meant something to so many people but doesn’t anymore. In this way, One Battle After Another inextricably ties PTA so closely to its characters and their plights (both of which always take precedence in his films ahead of commentary) which makes its daring finale and all that Bob finds he really stands for and that his daughter hopes to stand for in her own place in the world, feel so deeply personal.

One Battle After Another opens nationally from September 25

Dad, Larrikin, Friend, Genius, Icon, Documentary Subject But Also John Clarke

September 4, 2025September 4, 2025Tom Parry

“Life could be pretty boring if we didn’t make it funnier.”

Eight years have passed since Australia, and the world lost legendary satirist John Clarke, a New Zealander whose comedic alter-ego made him a national celebrity, before he made the trip across the Tasman, called Melbourne home and delighted another whole country with his distinct brand of humour. His death in 2017 was met with the kind of despair our brethren generally reserve for athletes, movie stars or royalty; praise came forth from all quarters – journalists, thespians, second-rate critics and the very individuals he so often lampooned, politicians, all effusively praising his wit and drawing attention to his huge body of work in written, aural and visual formats.

No figure is better placed to tell the story of this Kiwi multihyphenate than his eldest daughter Lorin, who emulates his diverse artistic talents by performing the manifold roles of director, producer, writer, interviewer and narrator of the very documentary that bares his name: But Also John Clarke (2025). Through monologues, conversations, anecdotes and a treasure-trove of archival footage – including home-videos, and Lorin’s own conversations with her father before his untimely death – viewers are presented with a captivating and amusing portrait that cordially pays homage to its eponymous focal point.

Much of the narrative’s first half is spent (as is often the case with stories of a biographical nature) exploring Clarke’s younger days in his mother-country, detailing a tumultuous upbringing that saw his creative spirit very nearly stymied by an oppressive boarding school, and a court blame him for the failed marriage of his parents rather than the more logical explanations of “irreconcilable differences” or “emotional trauma stemming from the horrors experienced in the Second World War”. Such torment would have broken an ordinary man, but not John Clarke, who overcame this animosity by way of several failed university courses, a brief sojourn to Europe and applying himself to the scene of theatre. This, of course, begat the persona we know as Fred Dagg.

Our attention is soon diverted to happenings in Australia, where John raised his family, refined his craft and began making allegorical waves via supporting roles on ABC Radio’s Science Show – despite having virtually no knowledge of any scientific pursuits – and ABC TV’s The Gillies Report, on the latter programme earning recognition as the globe’s foremost authority on farnarkeling. Then came sketches with Bryan Dawe on A Current Affair, in which Clarke masterfully impersonated political dignitaries and those of a comparable persuasion through the simple act of bearing their name and emulating their mannerisms, followed by the equally-innovative mockumentary series The Games.

Shaun Micallef (left) is one of several talking-heads acquiesced for *But Also John Clarke*

Parties from Clarke’s homeland and adopted nation lend their voices to the film on a pro rata basis, ranging from his theatrical contemporaries to the funnymen he himself would go on to inspire, and some fellow NZ expatriate by the name of Sam Neill (we’re told he’s quite famous). As director, editor et al, Lorin utilises their insights to craft a story warm and moving without succumbing to the egregious crime of saccharinity that all too often befalls personality-driven documentaries. More impressive still is her compelling argument put forward that Fred Dagg, and by extension John not only gave birth to New Zealand’s comedy scene, but also helped to foster an irreverent, self-deprecating sense of national pride.

Faults in the picture are few and far between, especially when viewed on a cinema screen via digital projection. A more discerning eye may be saddened by the lack of consideration given to Clarke’s international standing, with an opening remark from Britain’s Stephen Fry being the only moment to suggest he had any influence outside of the Antipodes; others will be left to ponder why nothing is said of him providing his vocal talents to Wal in the Footrot Flats movie, The Dog’s ~~Tail~~ Tale (1986).

One element certainly not lacking is a steady provision of humorous clips from John’s frequent and plentiful appearances on the stage and screen during his lifetime. Some of these extracts are four or even five decades in age, yet timeless in terms of their amusement value – at the Melbourne International Film Festival screening this reviewer attended, hearty laughs were often elicited from audience members young and old. Most hilarious of all proved to be a very early sketch involving a Fred Dagg precursor named Farmer Brown, the punchline of which had yours truly succumbing to fits of tittering long after the credits had rolled.

Countless luminaries have dreamed of being the subject of a critically-acclaimed documentary that bears their name in years gone by; now, they’ll be hoping such a production is as earnest, mirthful and brilliantly told as what Lorin Clarke has put together in honour of her forebear. But Also John Clarke is a more-than-fitting tribute to a man of infinite jest who meant so much to so many people, not least his ever-talented daughter.

But Also John Clarke is screening in limited release now.

Saturday Night Attempts to Relive the Night SNL Launched

October 30, 2024November 13, 2024Arnel Duracak

Saturday Night preview screening provided by Sony Pictures

The 90 minutes in the lead up to what is now a staple of American television culture in Saturday Night Live (SNL), was a chaotic, frantic race to deliver the goods. As anyone who has previous worked in a live television studio would know (whether seriously or recreationally), getting everything and everyone in one place at one time without missing a beat isn’t for the faint hearted, let alone when hot headed producers are breathing down your neck, hoping you slip up so they can show re-runs of Johnny Carson.

That was the case, at least, for the folks behind Saturday Night, something that Jason Reitman (known for 2007’s Juno and being the son of Ivan Reitman) tries to capture in his 110 minute feature of the same name. It’s an audacious task to say the least: how do you condense 90 minutes into a feature that tries to stick to time in the same way? The answer is, you don’t, but the intensity and scrambling is felt with every cutaway to a timer tracking the minutes.

And Reitman tries to make every minute count in the same way Lorne Michaels did that very night. The lead up to going live is a mess, something that Reitman shows by building tension through multiple tracking shots and long takes that portray the various moving parts as they interject and get in each others way.

At the centre of it all is Michaels (Gabriel LaBelle) who is trying to wrangle everything while convincing TV exec David Tebet (Willem Dafoe) that all is under control. Of course, it isn’t, with contracts left dangling, pieces of the set falling apart, various egos clashing —Chevy Chase (an uncanny Cory Michael Smith) and John Belushi (Matt Wood)— and drugs being snorted. There’s a verisimilitude to the portrayal of disarray, not least because historical accounts by those involved tell a similar story.

Lorne Michaels (Gabriel LaBelle), Jacqueline Carlin (Kaia Gerber), Chevy Chase (Cory Michael Smith) in SATURDAY NIGHT.

There’s clearly a great admiration from Reitman towards SNL, both in the haphazardness of proceedings, the wittiness he injects into character back-and-forths, and the sense of building towards something special. Yet for all Reitman’s attempts to relive the night and build up to showtime, the film feels like a checkbox exercise for actors to do impressions of your favourite 70s comedians — with jokes that you’ll get tired of in no time.

But perhaps the biggest drawback in a film about people trying to make it is the knowing that they will make it. As a result, you’re clinging to thin character threads for 110 minutes based on real people; it almost turns a film about a process into one of the bits that Michaels pulls down from the pin board because it just doesn’t quite fit.

While a tad over-dramatised for its own good, and over-reliant on throwing out average lookalikes to the original cast for a cheesy one-liner every now and then, for people like myself who aren’t SNL diehards or who weren’t aware of the backstory behind the tumultuous opening night show, Reitman’s film provides a welcome insight into something that has continued to persist to this day, even if it’s past its golden days.

Saturday Night opens nationally from the 31st of October.

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice: Tim Burton Turns Back the Clock with a Nostalgic Sequel

September 4, 2024September 4, 2024Arnel Duracak

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice preview screening provided by Universal Pictures.

Whether you like him or not, mesh with his unique aesthetic or run the other way, Tim Burton occupies a space in modern cinema that he’s carved from consistency: in strangeness, in the casting of brilliant oddballs, and in retaining his trusted collaborators. It’s a big reason why Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024), his follow-up to the now classic Beetlejuice (1988), is such a breezy experience at the cinema, one that picks up effortlessly from where its predecessor left off, and feels just as fresh and alive as it did 36 years ago.

It’s all the better, in fact, with this sequel using the foundations established in the first film and elevating them to a level of zaniness and tomfoolery that only Burton is capable of. Beetlejuice Beetlejuice plays out like a celebration of its predecessor, one that’s well thought out and that doesn’t feel like it’s had to reinvent itself for a modern audience. That’s in stark contrast to Burton’s attempt at Dumbo (2019), a film that from the outside looked like it was marred by too much intervention and creative oversight by Disney to the point where it felt like two visions clashing, with the result being a pretty mess.

Burton’s return to his own fabled creation has the opposite effect, showing a director who’s at ease and in his element, as though he needed a reset by returning to something so beloved to find his groove again. The title sequence attests to this, with a sweeping overhead shot of the town of Winter River that’s almost identical to the one he utilised in the first film; it’s a familiar, nostalgic sight, with most of the film leaning on callbacks to the original to appeal to audiences both old and new.

(L-r) WINONA RYDER as Lydia and MICHAEL KEATON as Beetlejuice in Warner Bros. Pictures’ comedy, “BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE.”

From the overhead shot, we land on Winona Ryder’s Lydia Deetz who’s now hosting her own show on paranormal horrors as though this was an episode of Ghost Hunters. She’s still just as quirky as in the first film, but is also much more on edge as she’s clearly still haunted by her own encounter with Beetlejuice (Michael Keaton) many years ago. It could also be that her overly sleazy TV-producer boyfriend, Rory (Justin Theroux) is right up in her business trying to solve her problems the moment she gets a bit jittery; or even that her own daughter Astrid (Jenna Ortega) ignores her texts and doesn’t believe her ghost obsessions.

The truth is, it’s a mix of those things, but especially the former. Beetlejuice’s presence is still felt by the characters of the first film, including Delia (an ever so comical and hilariously bougie Catherine O’Hara), but he’ll play a key part in helping them deal with the film’s wider threats, including an old flame of his, Delores (aptly played by Monica Bellucci), who’s stapled herself back from the dead and wants revenge.

That’s not the least of the backstory that Burton traces through, with the first 25 or so minutes of the film introducing and reintroducing the film’s characters. Others include Wolf Jackson (Willem Dafoe), a dead-actor-turned-detective in the Afterlife who’s full of wits as he’s tasked with tracking down Delores, treating his job like a performance in the process. The standout of the newcomers is of course Ortega who, after her success with Burton’s hit Netflix show Wednesday, slots effortlessly into the director’s zanny world. Her chemistry with Ryder is a revelation, with their pairing singing the tune of the film and its theme around reconciliation and the bond between a mother and daughter.

(L-r) JENNA ORTEGA as Astrid and WINONA RYDER as Lydia in Warner Bros. Pictures’ comedy, “BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE.”

The Afterlife itself is just as teeming with (dead) life, and looks just as vibrant and charming as it did all those years ago. It’s a testament to production designer Mark Scruton’s eye for detail as he decorates this setting with even more personality and character through his whacky designs. In fact, all of Burton’s collaborators are on their A-game, especially his regulars; Danny Eflman’s score has an ethereal quality that is reminiscent of the heyday of this genre of film, while costume designer Colleen Atwood once again dresses the cast to impress, to the point where one’s eye is naturally drawn to all characters lurking in the background.

There’s rarely ever any wasted space in a Burton film which is something that all filmmakers working in tight runtimes should aspire to. Every frame feels well thought out, every gag is executed cleanly and every prop feels like it’s just where it needs to be. Keaton has more screen time this time around as well, but everyone gets a share of the spotlight. There’s even time for a Chucky-esque demon baby-Beetlejuice, a room full of awkward Bob-like, small-headed, big-bodied beings, and a ‘Soul Train’ that —befitting to its name— transports soul musicians (and has wider implications in the plot). It’s a film that feels like it was made for the 80s gothic B-movie scene, was somehow never shown the light of day, but was unearthed at the right time.

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice opens nationally from the 5th of September.

Fly Me to the Moon: Scarlett Johansson and Channing Tatum Team Up for Space Race

July 10, 2024July 11, 2024Arnel Duracak

Fly Me to the Moon preview screening provided by Sony Pictures.

As far as films about space go, Fly Me to the Moon is about as far from the launchpad as they come —which is not to say there isn’t a takeoff. Set against the backdrop of the 60s, specifically around the Space Race, Greg Berlanti’s (director of 2018’s Love, Simon) film mixes romance with rockets, focusing on one of mankind’s greatest achievements in the man-finally-meets-moon Apollo 11 mission, while throwing Scarlett Johansson and Channing Tatum in the mix to see how they bounce off of one another. There’s a sincere, if not contrived aura about Fly Me to the Moon; in other words, it’s incredibly playful, sometimes to its own detriment.

Johansson plays con artist advertiser, Kelly Jones, whose successful career is noticed by the Nixon administration and one of their shady executives, Moe Berkus (Woody Harrelson). Moe commissions Kelly to sell the moon landing with her advertising chops. On the other side of the coin is Cole Davis (Tatum), a NASA employee and veteran who oversaw the tragic Apollo 1 mission. Their paths briefly cross in a flirtatious happenstance at a diner, one they thought was just a once off, before they realise they’ll be spending more time together.

Berlanti’s film is surprisingly clever, taking the conspiracy ideas behind the Apollo 11 mission and working them into an original script that satirises this notion playfully. But more than that, Fly Me to the Moon (though too long for its own good) makes good use of its two leads who effortlessly bicker and banter amongst all the turmoil around the launch. In particular, Johansson commands the screen, playing the part with the same zest and reverence for the time as in Asteroid City (2023), proving she could be warped back to the 1960s and fit right into the classic Hollywood setting.

Kelly Jones (Scarlett Johansson) and Cole Davis (Channing Tatum) in *Fly Me to the Moon*.

It’s almost bemusing that a film like this would cut past streaming and land on the big screen, not because it isn’t deserving of it, but because it seems like a hard sell —even with the Johansson/Tatum pairing. While the Apollo 11 mission was a big deal at the time, it’s easy to see audiences struggling to stay with it for 132 minutes. Characters like Lance (an unsurprising scene stealer in Jim Rash) and Moe inject energy when the pace starts to falter, giving moments like a sequence around building a fake Apollo 11 stage, a much needed boost.

While still a stud at 44, Tatum doesn’t completely bring the same flair as he does in the Magic Mike films or Logan Lucky (2017). His character is there to bear the weight of deceit from Kelly, but he often plays in Johansson’s shadow, even with their enjoyable jabs, serving more as a weight that levels her character out when she’s reaching for the stars faster than others.

Fly Me to the Moon does come at an interesting time though, where conspiracies and disinformation, truth and reality, are as distorted as ever. Though it doesn’t necessarily usher the audience to think a certain way, Berlanti’s film offers food for thought for those familiar with the controversy around the moon landing, and an interesting foot in the door for those that never paid it any mind. It doesn’t quite hit the landing it hopes for, but it’s not short on fuel.

Fly Me to the Moon opens nationally from the 11th of July.

The Fall Guy: Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt Amplify David Leitch’s Ode to Stuntwork

April 23, 2024April 25, 2024Arnel Duracak

The Fall Guy Melbourne Premiere provided by Universal Pictures

Car flips, ramp jumps, countless explosions and high tumbles are just some of the obstacles that stunt people face, and David Leitch’s The Fall Guy has them all. Leitch’s film seeks to celebrate the unsung heroes of stunts by putting two of Hollywood’s hottest properties, Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt, in the driver’s seat and letting them run amok.

Stuntman Colt Seavers’ (Ryan Gosling) life takes an expected turn after a stunt-gone-wrong puts him out of the business for over a year. To make matters worse, he’s derailed a relationship with another crew member, cinematographer Jody Moreno (Emily Blunt) after ghosting her in the time since. But it’s not until a phone call from producer Gail (Hannah Waddingham), begging him to return to stunt work on a film that Jody is now directing, that his life really takes a turn. And that’s because amidst his awkward return to facing Jody, he’s also been tasked with locating the film’s missing star that he stunt-doubles for, Tom Ryder (Aaron Taylor-Johnson).

On paper, it’s hardly a unique premise, but it lends itself to a rampant few hours at the cinema, largely because of Gosling and Blunt’s on-screen chemistry. The duo, fresh off of their 2023 blockbuster hits Barbie and Oppenheimer, respectively, seamlessly work off of one another here.

Gosling has a penchant for dry humour, as evidenced by his straight faced delivery of lines, but he’s also an incredibly versatile actor and it shows here as he effortlessly exudes charisma —at once being able to cry in the car to Taylor Swift’s ‘All Too Well’ and then go and burst through a door like a clumsy Jackie Chan. Blunt matches him in her charm, where she finds a balance between being obliviously innocent and a straight-up butt-kicking baddie.

Ryan Gosling is Colt Seavers in THE FALL GUY, directed by David Leitch

The duo are really the heart and soul of the film, which sometimes gets caught up in its own self-reflexivity. Characters will often call out wider pop culture references (Winston Duke’s character slams a bad guy through a table while shouting “Dwayne Johnson!”) and sometimes the writing doesn’t take itself seriously enough, leading to a feeling that the stakes just don’t feel that important —or the wider “why should I care if you don’t” aspect that Leitch’s films are notorious for.

Make no mistake, this is a film that revels in blowing everything out of proportion, so much so that it affords little respite. There are boat chases, three major ramp jumps, a sequence where Gosling is tripping on psychedelics and seeing unicorns, street chases throughout Sydney (which has never looked better), and a closing sequence that is committed to blowing things up.

In other words, Leitch (a former stuntman himself, famously for Brad Pitt) and lead stunt coordinator Keir Beck are all-in on going as big as they can and as fast as they can. For the most part they achieve that as the film rarely gives you a moment to stop and think, at times to its own detriment (the third act resolves in a rather eye-roll moment of spewy exposition), but at the same time that’s the name of the game as stunt people rarely hesitate.

Whether or not the stunts themselves will stand the test of time in the same way Tom Cruise throwing himself off of a mountain face will, isn’t clear. For the most part they’re great in the moment, but I wouldn’t call them memorable, especially when it’s Gosling and Blunt who will steal the accolades for their effortless banter. But Leitch (like Chad Stahelski with his John Wick franchise) knows the stunt game better than anyone, and The Fall Guy delivers the popcorn filmmaking goods while celebrating the bodies behind the actors.

The Fall Guy opens nationally from the 24th of April.

Hold up, The Bob’s Burgers Movie is a Tasty Adaptation

November 29, 2023November 27, 2023Tom Parry

Several animated series have made the leap from broadcasting to celluloid in years gone by — The Simpsons, South Park and Beavis and Butt-Head to name but a few. Although most examples have proven enjoyable, to date none of these feature-length adaptations have been of a greater calibre than the shows which inspired them, nor outshone them in the public zeitgeist. Such a problem afflicts the newest addition to this cohort of adaptations, despite the movie being quite enjoyable in its own right.

Father-of-three and small business owner Bob Belcher (voice of H. Jon “Archer” Benjamin) has been issued an ultimatum by his bank: pay his latest instalment within seven days, or see his beloved, self-named burger eatery repossessed. Making that repayment won’t be easy for the perpetually cash-strapped Bob, not least because his busiest period — the summer holidays — are still a week away; worse still, a giant sinkhole has emerged right outside the entrance of his store, robbing him of what little income he already receives.

Before The Bob’s Burgers Movie (2022), there was the animated television programme Bob’s Burgers, which premiered on the Fox Network in 2011 to meteoric ratings. While those sky-high viewing figures didn’t last — as has been the case for most shows the world over — interest remained strong in the seasons that followed, in part due to its many and varied qualities. Such attributes include a wholesome tone, quirky sense of humour, fantastic use of colour, catchy soundtrack, great cast of voice-actors, and bevy of eccentric supporting characters — among them handyman and loyal customer Teddy (Larry Murphy), who is practically a lead protagonist.

Most of those elements have carried over to the Movie including, most pleasingly, the principal voice-cast. Jon Benjamin reprises his role as the series’ patriarchal namesake, so too John Roberts as Bob’s ultra-supportive, high-energy wife Linda; Dan Mintz as their lovesick thirteen-year-old daughter Tina; Eugene Mirman as middle-child and musical prodigy Gene; Kristen Schaal as youngest daughter, the pink bunny-ears-wearing Louise; Murphy as fan-favourite Teddy, plus several other supporting players. All voices involved have nailed the persona and emotions of their characters, giving their all whether they be uttering dialogue, or singing one of the film’s tunes.

Talking of the latter, jaunty music is another quality this picture shares with its televisual source. A trio of numbers is contained within, first of which being the upbeat opener “Sunny Side-Up Summer”, then the Louise-led “Lucky Ducks” and, as the plot enters its third act, “Not That Evil” – sung by the Movie’s hidden antagonist. Though there isn’t much to distinguish the three songs from each other — all have a similar sound and tempo, differentiated only by the lyrics and key they are sung in – it’s the opening track which proves the most enjoyable, being memorable, hummable, infectiously happy, and setting the mood for all that follows.

Bob and Linda Belcher, trying to stay positive in the face their restaurant’s impending closure in *The Bob’s Burgers Movie*.

One of the significant improvements the film holds over its originator is the strength of its hand-drawn animation. Where in the show, a limited budget sees humans move stiffly or remain static for many a scene, here the characters bounce, weave, flex and shimmy with near-fluid motion; likewise, their faces are as rubbery and expressive as they’ve ever been. All this energetic bodily and facial movement only adds to the joyous atmosphere, as does the vibrant palette — note how the buildings and backgrounds are multi-hued, rather than painted in a single shade.

Yet another strength is the screenplay, which contains multiple, interweaving conflicts. The most investing of these threads is one centring a skeleton found in the abovementioned sinkhole; it sees Louise coerce her older siblings into solving the mystery of who placed it there, both in hopes of saving her family’s restaurant and proving to her schoolmates that she’s braver than her pink ears suggest. It’s an intriguing subplot with some great turns, and a strong one too — so much so, it becomes the central narrative by the third act. That in turn, and unfortunately, means the pre-established struggles of the other characters are relegated to tertiary importance.

Such is the case with Tina, who is hoping to ask long-time crush Jimmy Pesto Jr. (voiced by Benjamin, like Bob) to be her summer boyfriend, yet is reluctant to commit to a relationship; and Gene, who wants to reunite his band but fears their avantgarde sound won’t be accepted — effort is made to integrate both subplots into the main narrative, but with limited success. More frustrating, though, is the lack of story afforded to Linda, who’s given no conflict of her own to explore nor the opportunity to grow as a character, instead tasked with being’s Bob’s better conscience.

Another grievance to be had with the film is how it fails to utilise the large roster of characters who frequent the TV show. This was a deliberate choice made on the part of director (and show creator) Loren Bouchard and his co-producer Nora Smith, who say they didn’t wish to see their adaptation become an endless parade of cameos and risk alienating newcomers. That’s a fair call, but when one considers how effectively and cleverly The Simpsons Movie (2007) incorporated an even-bigger list of deuteragonists into its tale, it more or less makes Bouchard and Smith’s argument invalid. Yet that’s not the biggest gripe to be had.

The Belcher siblings (from left) Tina, Louise and Gene in *The Bob’s Burgers Movie*.

Of foremost disappointment is the low-key manner in which The Bob’s Burgers Movie presents itself. Making an appearance in theatres should be a cause for celebration, an opportunity to take the characters in a new direction, or make some bold decisions that wouldn’t be possible to enact in the medium of TV. Or ideally, all of the above, as was the case with The Simpsons Movie. Instead, what’s being presented seems more akin to an extended episode of the series, one which could just as happily be watched on a smaller screen. And for fans of the show, that’s a real shame.

Having said that, this remains an enjoyable piece of Bob’s Burgers media and, importantly, a great film when judged solely on its own merits, fulfilling Bouchard’s wish of being accessible to “all the good people who’ve never seen the show.” Rating Frames is not alone in this view — upon its initial release, critics seasoned and unfamiliar with the Belcher clan alike found a shared appreciation for the Movie and its merits, as evidenced by a Certified Fresh designation from Rotten Tomatoes and average rating of 75 percent from Metacritic. Which begs the question as to why that praise — and the programme’s avid following to boot — did not translate into box-office success.

There are, as it happens, multiple factors that point to The Bob’s Burgers Movie’s lacklustre theatrical run, such as the constant production delays, limited marketing, wariness around the pandemic, and the negative sentiment toward the programme which has lingered since its first season. Yet ultimately, fault lies with the decision to release it on the very same date as Top Gun: Maverick (2022) in a misguided attempt at counterprogramming. Had it not been released at that time, there’s every chance the film would have found the audience, and the returns, it so rightly deserves.

Even though it falls short of being the stirring adventure that fans desired and were promised, The Bob’s Burgers Movie is nevertheless a bright, joyous feature for viewers of all ages, whether they’re devotees of the original series or not. All the virtues of its source material are there, while the slick animation and mystery element of the screenplay only adds to the delight. Not the Belchers’ crowning achievement, but a letdown it most certainly is not.

The Bob’s Burgers Movie and its associated series are both available to stream on Disney+.

You Will Be Satisfied By The Menu

November 24, 2022Darcy Read

A high-tension, comedic thriller on a bed of murky yet compelling satire, The Menu (2022) blends many styles and influences together with an entertaining wit and snark that is sure to delight audiences. With a strong combination of performances from Anya Taylor-Joy and Ralph Fiennes heightening this loosely structured comedy, The Menu manages to maintain an impressive level of tension and suspense that elevates some of its lacking cultural critiques.

We begin almost in media res as Tyler (Nicolas Hoult) and Margot (Taylor-Joy) wait to board a boat en route to the prestigious and uber-exclusive Michelin three-star restaurant Hawthorn headed by the revered Chef Slowik (Fiennes). By beginning moments before the arrival at the restaurant where the entire film will take place, we are given an active role in sleuthing out details about Tyler and Margot, as well as the other guests and the restaurant. This allows The Menu to be wonderfully engaging, giving the film an almost Agatha Christie-like momentum to the narrative.

Succession director Mark Mylod and writer Will Tracy collaborate with The Onion writer Seth Reiss (Tracy also worked at The Onion for a period) on this uniquely satisfying thriller comedy that blends styles of modern satire, to mostly enjoyable results. Unlike the Palme D’Or winning high-class satire of Triangle of Sadness (2022), the targets of satire in The Menu are not always clear. As the untethering of Chef Slowik’s mind allows an undercutting of his goals to widen the scope of the movie’s satire, Reiss and Tracy take aim more at the culture around the industry through a wider range of archetypes and ideas than cheaply mocking the individuals. This cloudiness may not add depth to its satirical lens, but it certainly adds intrigue through its obscuration.

Nicholas Hoult and Anya Taylor-Joy in *The Menu*

Mylod’s style of heightened realism mixes compellingly with long-time Lynch collaborator Peter Deming’s work as a cinematographer to create a series of tense but compelling images that you will want to savour. Mocking the foodie content that permeates the internet while also executing it to an absurd degree, Deming and Mylod allow the audience to laugh alongside them, while also enjoying the voyeurism of experiencing fine dining from a theatre seat.

Working with three-star Michelin chef Dominique Creen as a consultant, there is an air of realism to this highly arch film that allows the comedic moments to flourish. The best of these moments are handled by the maître d’ Elsa, played by the perfectly cast Hong Chau, who makes an absolute meal out of this script.

Having a compass realignment structure of the courses, formalised in the metronomic Slowik clap, allows the film to bounce around different ideas and set pieces over the night. A series of comedic set pieces set out in an episodic format established by the meal courses, The Menu feels at times like a free-flowing sequence of comedic bits, attached to a lifeline of the structure established by the restaurant. This freedom allows the film to have its cake and eat it too; exploring different characters and comedic moments, while always having the ability to return to the tense thriller story with a powerful clap.

Certain writing decisions feel rebellious, like allowing us access to Chef Slowik’s motives early on, destabilising your expectations of where the night will take you. This creates an almost free-associative middle act that makes each individual moment enjoyable but lacks a certain level of cohesion (a comment literally made on one of the film’s many spinning-food-plate sequences) that leaves a unique taste in the mouth. This complication of knowing whether these decisions improve the film or work to its detriment will make The Menu a fascinating rewatch.

A consistently compelling and interesting script, critiquing a form of art culture in a very similar style to 2019’s Velvet Buzzsaw, without the third-act issues that derailed that film. Where filmmaker Dan Gilroy asked the most from Jake Gyllenhaal in a truly bombastic performance, Mylod has Fiennes working with a sense of reserved enlightenment that allows the film to thrive in a truer thriller sense, while still achieving a wonderfully arch critique on both the creators and consumers of a certain high art field.

Joining a group of truly enjoyable all-in-one-night films, The Menu thrives more in its balance of genuine tension and comedy than its biting satire of high-end dining culture. It does, however, leave the audience much to chew on about the codependent relationship between consumer and creator in all forms of art mediums, with high-end dining as the most literal example. It’s impossible not to empathise with Slowik when he asks his regular customers to tell him what their last meal was, his existential dread permeating out of the screen, to find his obsessive devotion to his craft has not been responded to in kind.

Whilst not overly successful as a satire (we may be in a cinematic era that is impossible to craft a successful satire), The Menu is highly enjoyable as a comedic thriller in the world of fine dining. Like any great restaurant or food spot, it’s important to appreciate a location on its own terms, and the film’s like The Menu are no different. Anchored by terrific genre performances by Fiennes and Taylor-Joy, you will be charmed by the biting and absurdist humour while you also find yourself on the edge of your seat.

The Menu is in theatres now.

Ticket to Paradise Revives the Rom-Com

September 24, 2022September 27, 2022Arnel Duracak

The heyday of the rom-com might be behind us, but a film like Ol Parker’s Ticket to Paradise (2022) is a stark reminder that there may still be hope for the subgenre. In fact, a ‘ticket to paradise’ is exactly what’s on offer in this George Clooney/Julia Roberts helmed feel-good flick, and that might just be what the once thriving subgenre has been missing.

That’s not to say that there hasn’t been the odd romedy in recent years, with Long Shot (2019), Marry Me (2022) and Crazy Rich Asians (2018) all coming to mind. But until Ticket to Paradise, there hasn’t really been a rom-com that one can firmly say is reminiscent of the biggest and best the subgenre has to offer. Titles like Notting Hill (1999), Pretty Woman (1990), Sleepless in Seattle (1993), and my personal favourite, Forgetting Sarah Marshall (2008), in many ways defined what a romantic comedy is, what it looks like, and what sort of faces work in bringing these far-fetched stories to life.

One of those —and perhaps the most prominent— is Julia Roberts. No other name is as synonymous with rom-coms as her, with the proof being in the pudding of some of those aforementioned titles. She brings a certain warmth and infectious magnetism that reminds viewers that everything will be okay, even though that is known long before you’ve even entered the cinema. But when you pair Roberts with Clooney, you’ve got a recipe for success.

The dynamic duo, re-united for the first time since Money Monster (2016), play a divorced couple who want nothing to do with each other. It’s their daughter Lily (Kaitlyn Dever), however, who acts as the bridge that keeps the two connected; this so much so that her abrupt decision to marry a Balinese seaweed farmer, Gede (Maxime Bouttier) while holidaying in Bali is the perfect dilemma to bring her estranged parents back together, but for a common cause — to prevent her from throwing her life and career away in a rash decision.

(from left) Wren (Billie Lourd, back to camera), Gede (Maxime Bouttier) and Lily (Kaitlyn Dever) in Ticket to Paradise, directed by Ol Parker.

The premise is about as rom-com centric as can be: you have a star-led couple who loathe each other (tick), you have the obstacle that ultimately brings the characters together (tick), and you have a tropical setting that builds and restores love (tick). These are obviously ingredients that have been employed in films like Couples Retreat (2009) and Just Go With it (2011), and they can be moulded to fit different romedies.

With Ticket to Paradise, however, Parker knows how to make the most of these elements. He lets his star duo play off of each other with such an ease and with the room to adlib if necessary. Of course, being the Hollywood heavyweights that they are and maintaining a great friendship off screen, that’s hardly difficult for Clooney and Roberts. But it’s in the way Parker frames his actors and how, even with the predictability of where the film is going, he is able to maintain this finesse in getting you where you need to go plot wise.

It’s something that’s often lacking in modern romedies where, like Couples Retreat or Just Go With It, too often the dialogue falls flat as most of it is throwaway for the sake of a cheap laugh. Even with the constant verbal jousts that Clooney and Roberts display, there is a method to their madness, and it isn’t without purpose. It ultimately makes that predictable ending all the more worthwhile as, like the characters who fall for each other either for the first time or those that fall for each other all over again, the audience is nurtured to fall for them as well when all is said and done.

In order to get that point though, Georgia (Roberts) and David (Clooney) have to act like the cool, calm and collected adults they know they aren’t. Doing all they can to sabotage the wedding, Georgia and David engage in childlike antics. Whether that’s nabbing the rings from the young and oblivious child ring bearer or setting up a tour of a temple that curses all unmarried couples, there isn’t a shortage of things they won’t do to prolong the wedding.

At the end though, Ticket to Paradise is a reminder that no two people are the same, and by extension no two paths are the same. Nothing is ever set in stone if you don’t want it to be, be it a career choice or a divorce. Love ultimately triumphs, or at the very least, the realisation that not everything has to be planned out — sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith.

Ticket to Paradise is screening in cinemas nationwide.

Wes Anderson Triumphs Again with The French Dispatch

February 3, 2022Tom Parry

He’s a director who shouldn’t need an introduction. As one of the few, true auteurs actively working in Hollywood and certainly the most popular, Wes Anderson’s name has become shorthand for offbeat, idiosyncratic cinema, and drawn a legion of passionate followers. And for those same devotees, or even newcomers to his filmography, his latest picture is nothing short of enjoyable.

The year is 1975, and in the village of Ennui, France, an American literary journal known as “The French Dispatch” is about to publish its final issue ever. Among the articles planned for its pages are an essay from Ms. J. K. L. Berensen (Tilda Swinton) about incarcerated painter Moses Rosenthaler (Benicio del Toro); details of a student uprising through the eyes of Lucinda Krementz (Frances McDormand); and the words of Roebuck Wright (Jeffrey Wright) as he recounts the kidnapping of a policeman’s son.

Anderson’s film is a visual depiction of these magazine stories, with each writer serving as a narrator for their respective pieces. All three reports are told from a contemporary perspective, with happenings in the present bathed in the auteur’s trademark pastels and those of the past in greyscale, which is occasionally livened by splashes of colour. While Anderson purists may bemoan a dearth of vibrant hues in these flashback sequences, the black-and-white photography is no less impressive, for the meticulous lighting and shading ensures a sense of artistry in every shot.

Being a Wes Anderson picture, the grey sheen applied to historic events is just one of many peculiarities to be found in The French Dispatch (2021). Another worth noting is the old-fashioned 4:3 aspect ratio, previously utilised by Anderson in The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) – as with that film, the director uses the tighter frame and subsequent lack of space to his advantage, imbuing affairs with an intimate and cosy vibe. The difference here is that the smaller ratio is employed throughout the narrative and only changes during particular sequences, such as when the film is showing different points-of-view simultaneously.

To help realise his vision, Anderson has called upon the services of his favoured collaborators, including production designer Adam Stockhausen, whose adorable dollhouse aesthetics are visible throughout; costume designer Milena Canonero, who adorns every character in dapper, retro clothing; cinematographer Robert Yeoman, who shares the auteur’s eye for symmetry and detail; and composer Alexandre Desplat, whose score retains the trademark playfulness of his previous efforts. The result, naturally, is a film that looks and sounds unmistakably like a Wes Anderson product.

Roebuck Wright (Jeffrey Wright) in *The French Dispatch*

It’s a feeling that’s reinforced by the ensemble cast, with most of its players having appeared previously in Anderson’s projects – among them Owen Wilson, Adrien Brody, Willem Dafoe, Edward Norton, Jason Schwartzman, Anjelica Huston, and Bill Murray, who has been a mainstay of the director’s filmography since Rushmore (1998). Though the performances from all involved are memorable and faultless, the highlight is undoubtedly Jeffrey Wright, who exudes charisma and appears more than comfortable in his role, suggesting that he and Anderson shall have many more collaborations in the years ahead.

Because The French Dispatch contains so many of the motifs found in his previous works, comparisons with it and Anderson’s other movies are inevitable, and in most respects his latest fares well. This picture is wittier, more quotable and slightly more energetic than his preceding feature, Isle of Dogs (2018), whilst also being lighter and breezier than his earlier output; yet the narrative here is less compelling than usual, lacking the intrigue and emotional heft of Anderson screenplays past. It would probably benefit from adding more impishness to its protagonists too, most of whom are bland and indistinguishable.

There has been criticism from some quarters about The French Dispatch being formulaic and too similar to Anderson’s prior films, but in this author’s view, such claims lack merit. Although this movie is never one to stray from that which has come before – and it certainly won’t change the opinion of the auteur’s detractors – Anderson does just enough set it apart from its contemporaries through the anthological plot, greyscale imagery and intermittent use of hand-drawn animation, ensuring he can’t be accused of lazily using the same old tropes in this instance.

The French Dispatch is yet another pleasurable turn from Wes Anderson, emanating with the distinctive visuals and quirky, irreverent humour for which he is renowned, and made even more resplendent by the settings, cast, and old-school touches. For strangers to Anderson’s work, it’s an ideal entry-point; for the converted, it’s a just reward for their dedication.

The French Dispatch is currently streaming on Disney+, and available to purchase on home-video and on-demand services.