Hi Friends!

Summer came to an end with a frenetic, suprising and sweet season of reunions and celebrations. Two weeks ago I watched one of my oldest and dearest friends, Dan, marry his wonderful companion in athletic and academic over-achievement, Annie, in a beautiful ceremony by the harbour. I had the honour of MC’ing the reception, and in the process of preparing excavated twenty-nine years (!) of shared memories via old photo albums, notebooks and trinkets that go all the way back to our primary school days. It’s a precious thing, having good people in your life for that long; I’m so glad I was able to play a part on the big day.

In the spirit of thirty years of parties where the photo record shows I’ve consistently dressed as either a cowboy, pirate or vampire, this past weekend brought the glitter-shrouded Sydney Mardi Gras! I donned a cowboy hat once more for the Cooee wrap party on parade night (it felt like a suitable Cooee x Mardi Gras crossover look), an event over a month in the making. It was a treat to get the gang back together, crack open a beer in the tray of one of our solar-modded utes, and share our first glimpse of footage from the film. I definitely got a bit teary.

Next up was Kylie Minogue’s Tension Tour! Samuel, Sophie and I watched the diminutive pop princess utterly dominate the stage with her undimmed star power (and surprisingly few pyrotechnics) in front of a rather hungover audience of the gays and girls on Sunday night. Kylie was even kind enough to remind us all to hydrate. She radiated such earnest joy at her recent, Padam-powered resurgence, whilst still holding a special place for the “OGs” who’ve danced along for decades. Hell, she even played ‘Locomotion’!

Best of all, my brother Neil’s latest exhibition, your days are numbered, just debuted at LAILA Gallery in Sydney! I think it features some of his finest paintings yet, infused with energies evocative of the Weimar era that unsettle and provoke (I’m always a sucker for a whiff of Cabaret). The show is on until 15 March, with viewings on Fridays and Saturdays, so please check it out — the work is gorgeous!

The Indie Spirit Oscars

Moira Rose’s favourite season (“Awards”) is finally over! The long and faintly ridiculous race for gold ended yesterday with the 97th Academy Awards ceremony. It is really a marathon for the filmmakers involved: a lot of people reacted with incredulity when Bradley Corbet spoke out a few weeks ago about how he “made zero dollars” from The Brutalist (a genuinely successful indie!), but I know from experience it’s true. Indie directors who spend months promoting their films do it for free, and jetting around to festivals, however glamorous it appears, means they’re not actually able to work on the next project. Sometimes a payment for directing or writing has to last you three or four years. Corbet only recently made some real cash by directing a series of ads, and some of his fellow nominees (who’ve been on the publicity circuit drumming up interest for their work since Cannes last May!) have struggled to pay their rent, despite making their studios and distributors a whole lot of money. You wouldn’t do it unless you loved it.

So I think it’s doubly gratifying that this year so many awards went to small-but-wildly-ambitious independent features like Anora and The Brutalist, made by young filmmakers who are genuinely passionate about the art form. There were a whole host of inspiring first-time winners, including the Latvian animators behind Flow, costume designer Paul Tazewell for Wicked, Sean Baker using his multiple trips to the stage to advocate for the sex worker community and independent theatres, and the four Palestinian and Israeli activists who collectively directed the documentary No Other Land. Where other speakers throughout the night only obliquely referred to “division” and “difficult times”, credit to Basel Adra and Yuval Abraham for openly decrying ethnic cleansing in Gaza and America’s complicity from the awards stage.

As a whole, I thought the ceremony itself was pretty damn excellent too. Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo kicked things off with spectacular performances of ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’, ‘Home’ and ‘Defying Gravity’, which were both heartfelt and a deft bit of campaigning for next year when they’ll inevitably be back for Wicked Part 2. Conan O’Brien was a great host, gleefully jumping between goofball gags (a musical sandworm! the stolen Prime delivery!), spicy jokes (Karla’s tweets! Half-time Kendrick!) and earnest expressions of love for fire-ravaged Los Angeles and the art form as a whole. I hope he returns next year.

And thank goodness we finally got a Oscars telecast that celebrated all of the nominated films, rather than behaving faintly embarrassed that more mainstream fare wasn’t in the mix, or resorting to lazy jokes about how no one watched the nominees. It was sweet to see Costume Design and Cinematography given the "Fab Five” presenter format, with a personalised tribute to each of the nominees — it’s rare for craft categories to get this kind of love. Perhaps it’s going to be a rotating thing, and other departments will get their turn next year?

As always, Best Actress was the most competitive category of the night. I’m disappointed for Demi Moore, who was superb in the under-rewarded The Substance, but it is ruefully appropriate that a young ingenue upstaged her in the end (and Mikey Madison was very deserving in her own right). It reeks of category fraud that Kieran Culkin and Zoe Saladana won Supporting Actor Oscars for their very clearly co-lead roles (wouldn’t it have been nice to celebrate a genuine supporting performer like Guy Pearce or Yura Borisov?), but it’s hard to argue with the work itself.

There were misses of course. I was absolutely bewildered to see the show end without a tribute to David Lynch. He only popped up for a few precious seconds during the In Memoriam segment, and yet somehow the producers found time for an endless, unmotivated tribute to James Bond (or was that the Academy’s sly way of eulogising 007 following Amazon’s grim takeover of the franchise?). This is DAVID LYNCH we’re talking about — even if his boundary-pushing, surreal work only occasionally broke into the mainstream, he was a singular and wildly influential artist with an immeasurable impact on the medium. On a night that repeatedly paid homage to Lynch’s beloved The Wizard of Oz, it would have only been right to take one last trip down the yellow brick road with cinema’s greatest dreamer.

My 2024 in Cinema

After a euphoric, “cinema is back!” 2023, I unfortunately found last year to be a bit of a let-down. Mainstream Hollywood filmmaking is on a real downswing in the wake of the strikes and yet more corporate retrenchment — I’ve had my fill of remakes, legacy sequels and franchise expansions that exist purely to perpetuate “IP” and flood our screens with drab, poorly shot-and-graded “content”. The big streamers, once a generous home for idiosyncratic filmmakers, are taking fewer chances and pouring their vast reserves into lowest-common-denominator dreck. Look, Megalopolis might have turned out to be a complete disaster (and I had such high hopes for it…), but at least Francis Ford Coppola made something interesting when he set his Marvel-sized mountain of money on fire.

Meanwhile, many of the finest big-budget swings of the year went unrewarded. I wish that the garish Emilia Perez or the enjoyable-but-indulgent Wicked had just an ounce of the musical verve of Michael Gracy’s dazzling Better Man, the Robbie-Williams-is-a-monkey biopic that proves that someone out there still knows how to choreograph and shoot a great song and dance number. Australian-made Furiosa might not have measured up to Fury Road (what can?), but it demonstrates that it’s possible to make a sequel-prequel that’s more than a shallow retread (ala Ridley Scott’s dire Gladiator II), brimming with ideas and great stunts.

So, with a few notable exceptions, I found most of my favourite films of 2024 on the indie circuit. I was glad to wrestle with new work from mid-career masters like Miguel Gomes (Grand Tour) and Andrea Arnold (Bird), argue over Jane Schoenbrun’s I Saw the TV Glow, and discover stories of young love, despair and displacement on the outskirts of New Mexico (Rose Glass’ Love Lies Bleeding), Vietnam (Truong Minh Quy’s Việt and Nam) and Mongolia (Lkhagvadulam Purev-Ochir’s City of Wind).

Hand-wrought claymation made a comeback in Adam Eliot’s Memoirs of a Snail and Nic Park’s Wallace and Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl, whilst Carl Joseph E. Papa’s The Missing used rotoscoping to conjure buried and distorted memories, and Hugh & D.K. Welchman constructed The Peasants with thousands of ravishing oil paintings. And there were no shortage of heart-wrenching flesh and blood performances: Saoirse Ronan in Nora Fingscheidt’s under-seen The Outrun, Nathan Stewart-Jarrett and George MacKay in the provocative Femme, and the unlikely trio of Carrie Coon, Natasha Lyonne and Elizabeth Olsen in His Three Daughters. All worth seeking out!

Which finally brings me to my Top 10 of the year — with the exception, of course, of movies made by people I know and love, because that just wouldn’t be fair! But I am glad to report that Samuel’s Went Up the Hill will make its way to cinemas later in 2025…

10. ALL WE IMAGINE AS LIGHT

I didn’t know quite what to make of this delicate, slice of life drama about a pair of nurses scraping by in the unforgiving metropolis of Mumbai when I first saw it at a festival many moons ago. But where other films have faded with the months, the final fifteen minutes of of All We Imagine As Light have haunted me. A film that up to this point has been committed to documentary-like realism suddenly strays into dream-like surrealism for one spell-binding sequence, turning the film inside out. Sublime.

Coming soon (hopefully) to rent online or stream.

9. A REAL PAIN

In a year teeming with indulgent films that long outstay their welcome, Jesse Eisenberg’s travel drama was so brisk, intimate and to-the-point that it genuinely surprised me. It’s a simple short story, told in under 90 minutes, with a clear theme (hell, it’s in the title) and thoughtful writing, performed by two great actors: a tender and generous rumination on how we choose to handle life’s disasters and disappointments, from the historic — the shadow of the Holocaust looming over the estranged cousins’ trip to Poland — to the unspeakably intimate — the wounds that each man disguises, medicates or chooses to bare to the world.

In cinemas now, available to rent online, or streaming on Disney+.

8. DUNE: PART TWO

From the intimate to the epic — and when it comes to scale, Villeneuve is almost without peer. He’s threading a near-impossible needle here: creating a rousing action-movie climax for a two-part adaptation without sacrificing Frank Herbert’s bitter critique of messianic, charismatic leaders. Not every big moment works, but Villeneuve’s real triumph is in the details: the procedures for extracting water from the dead, the fluttering of a thopter’s wings, the fearful shuffling of Harkonnen servants down the halls, even the imperfect fit of a Princess’ clothing. It’s in the texture that his world of spice and sand feels most alive and true. I have no idea how he’s going to adapt the bleak post-script Dune Messiah into a satisfying sequel, but I can’t wait to see him try.

Available to rent online, or streaming on Netflix (Australia) or Max (International).

7. BABYGIRL

Every few years, Nicole Kidman signs up for a film so out-there and uncompromising that it jolts you into remembering that she’s one of the most audacious actors we have. Think Eyes Wide Shut, Birth, The Paperboy… and now Babygirl. It’s a high-wire dance of consent and submission between Nicoles tech CEO and and Harris Dickinson’s intern that seems like it could topple over into nihilism, absurdity or self-parody at any moment, and yet somehow director Halina Reijn manages to keep it balanced from beginning to end. I was particularly enamoured with the shallow-focus, roving handheld images conjured by cinematographer Jasper Wolf, giving the sex scenes an elusive, breathless energy.

And just to shower a bit more love on Nicole — while she’s recently been derided for her steady stream of flashy-but-average TV melodramas (e.g. The Perfect Couple), I think it’s impressive how she’s built her own self-sustaining industry niche, and in doing so bought the creative latitude for big swings like Babygirl with young directors who otherwise struggle to get their worked funded. Unlike certain other industry veterans who talk a big game about championing female filmmakers, Nicole has actually followed through, working with nineteen female directors since making her resolution in 2017. And to top it all off, just two weeks ago she gave the Brian Walsh Award for Emerging Talent to the extraordinary Kartanya Maynard (star of Cooee!), which just goes to show Nicole knows talent when she sees it.

In cinemas now.

6. PROBLEMISTA

I already wrote a little about Problemista (and the next two films on my list) after Sydney Film Festival, and nothing has changed — it is still the funniest film I saw in 2024. Julio Torres makes for a delightfully fey “straight” man amidst the surrealist chaos, and Tilda Swinton manages to indulge all her wildest scenery-devouring instinct without undermining the film’s foundations of curiosity and kindness.

Available to rent online, or streaming on Netflix.

5. THE SUBSTANCE

I screamed, I hid behind my fingers, I held my breath, and I laughed like hell — often in the same few minutes. Coralie Fargeat delivers a symphony of gore and debasement that demands to be watched in a packed cinema with everyone losing their minds. Yet no matter how insane The Substance gets (and it gets pretty damn insane), at its core is an all-too-familiar image: a middle-aged woman studying her reflection in the mirror, unable to find the beauty in the face staring back at her, and driven by this terrible lack to obliterate herself. None of the bloodshed is quite as stomach-churning as the scene in which Elisabeth (Demi Moore) cannot bring herself to leave the house for a low-stakes dinner with an old high school admirer — imprisoned by the impossibility of measuring up to her younger, “better” self.

Available to rent online, or streaming on Stan (Australia) or MUBI (International).

4. THE SEED OF THE SACRED FIG

The story of Sacred Fig’s journey to the screen — shot in secret in Iran, smuggled out of the country, with director Mohammad Rasoulof barely escaping and many of the cast and crew detained or imprisoned — is so dramatic that it threatens not only to overshadow the film itself, but hide its real virtues behind dull praise for its “courage” and “relevance”. Above all, Sacred Fig is a savage and relentless thriller. It builds slowly, as political violence encroaches on a seemingly tight-knit, upper-class family unit in Tehran, until something finally snaps, and both dissent and danger are undeniably coming from inside the house. Rasoulof suggests that under an authoritarian regime, there can be no real separation between the personal and political… and that there’s only a short journey from an “I’m just doing my job” lackey to outright monstrosity.

In cinemas now.

3. THE BRUTALIST

Perhaps the best compliment I can give The Brutalist is that, despite the gargantuan 3.5 hour run-time, I was enthralled for every damn minute. It’s hard to imagine trimming a frame — I can’t honestly say that for many other films on this list — and Corbet makes every single one count. This is a film about the bleak dance of art and capital, where the cost of “making it” in America is laid bare, not only in dollars and cents but in the conjoined demands of submission and assimilation. Guy Pearce’s industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren is a uniquely American monster: charming but capricious, vain enough to yearn for the cultural capital of being seen as “a visionary” but wholly contemptuous of the workers whose talents he can buy but cannot understand.

And a special shout-out for the intermission! Not only is it creatively worthwhile — splitting the film at a crucial point, and letting a plot-relevant image linger on-screen during the break — but it comes with a handy on-screen timer, telling you precisely how long it’ll be until the movie kicks in again! If we’re going to normalise making 3+ hour epics, we’ve got to bring back intermissions. They’re great!

In cinemas now.

2. ANORA

Sean Baker knows how to show you a good time — and then stick you in the gut with a shard of ice. Anora begins with a whirlwind of rom-com wish-fulfilment between stripper Ani and her Russian nepobaby client-turned-boyfriend-turned-husband, only to make a hard pivot into violent screwball comedy with the hilariously drawn-out “kidnapping” sequence (my favourite set-piece of the year — just as thrilling as Furiosa’s “Stowaway” chase, and twice as funny!). From there it keeps changing shape, as if the film and its characters were trying to break free of reality’s inexorable gravity, and every misadventure rattles Ani’s hopes (and our own). In the end, all that remains are two lonely souls in a car in the cold, stranded on the margins of the American Dream.

In cinemas now, and available to rent online.

1. CHALLENGERS

I couldn’t resist. Challengers is certainly not the most profound, challenging or graceful film of 2024, but it is my favourite. This deeply sexy bisexual tennis love triangle is a pure soap opera delight. Countless audacious moments have stuck with me almost a year later — Josh O’Connor trying to charm his way into a free breakfast bagel, Zendaya’s glee at manoeuvring her would-be suitors into a sloppy kiss with one another, Luca’s bonkers coverage of tennis matches (1st Person! Ball POV! Low angle from underneath the court!), Trent Reznor’s club-ready score intruding on the scantily-clad sauna confrontation, and, of course, the boys taking bites out of that damn churro. Not all of it works, and all of it is faintly ridiculous, and I don’t care one bit. Hollywood used to make a dozen mid-budget, star-powered confections like this every year. Thank goodness the over-productive Italian maverick Luca Guadagnino still knows how to tell satisfying stories about messy human beings with a little bit of razzle-dazzle. More please.

Available to rent online, or streaming on Amazon Prime.

And that’s my list! Naturally there are still many movies I’ve missed, including I’m Still Here, No Other Land, Nickel Boys, Hard Truths, Evil Does Not Exist, A Different Man and more I’m sure I’ve forgotten. I’d love to know your favourites, and anything I need to catch up on!

Odds & Ends

• As an annual alternative to the still-stunt-trophy-free Oscars, check out the latest edition of Vulture’s Stunt Awards! A celebration of action cinema, voted for by industry vets, this year finds Furiosa leading the way, with honours for Rebel Ridge, Life After Fighting, and a Lifetime Achievement honour for Eunice Huthart (i.e. Angelia Jolie’s longtime stunt double and the legs behind Xenia Onatopp’s killer thighs in Goldeneye).

• Huge news in “things Stuart is liable to rant about after half a glass” stakes — the original Theatrical Cut of Amadeus (i.e. the version that won all the fucking Oscars) has FINALLY been restored and released on blu-ray and streaming. This is a big deal because for the last twenty years, only the Director’s Cut has been accessible — and it’s 20+ minutes longer and ruins the original cut’s perfect pacing (and Amadeus was never a short movie). Yes, I am aware that the Director’s Cut has bonus nudity. I don’t care. The shorter, PG-rated version is superior. I will die on this hill.

• Side note — I’m convinced that the (already pretty excellent) A Complete Unknown could have been even better if it had borrowed Amadeus’ structure and centred more firmly on Edward Norton’s Pete Seeger or Monica Barbaro’s Joan Baez, artists of conviction who found themselves used and surpassed by the brilliant, shape-shifting and insufferable Bob Dylan. They’d have made ideal modern Salieris to Timothée’s asshole Mozart.

And that’s it for this week, thanks for reading! Next time I’ll be back to writing about history, with a visit to the Weimar Republic and the shape-shifting Kit Kat Club…