Of interest purely as a historical document. Was kinda hoping for more of a view of Kings Cross itself but outside of the magnificently intense spruiker in Stage literally pushing people into a strip club, most of these films are all set inside non-descript locations. They are instead more like sex education films which pleasingly really push for consent and give an eye-opening glimpse into 70s sex toys. That man putting on a penis splint as an erection aid yet…
Lo-fi Canadian Yellowjackets, except the girls strand themselves on purpose. The goal is ostensibly to create a utopian society free of the boredom and structure of the everyday which naturally falls apart into shocking eye violence, dreamy drug trips and boyfriend stealing. The relationship between the girls is beautifully sketched and the boys all suck, but this kinda falls apart at the end. I get what its going for (any society will probably rip itself apart because of petty jealousies) but it still feels unformed somehow. Really enjoyed the no budget nightmare terror of this though, unsettling and creepy even in the bright daylight.
Scathing, hilarious takedown of the dudebro horror cinephile. Reminded me a lot of that douchebag boyfriend in May, his horror cinephilia a boring affectation useless against the real frustration of feminist rage. Great scene in here has the guys watching the Zombie Flesh Eaters eye kill and it becomes almost like a group orgasm; sick, twisted and funny. I do think director Avalon Fast misses a trick by having the division so clearly be on gender lines (the men like…
really though this captured a specific australian city-suburb listlessness (antipodean maybe? certain songs off pure heroine also do this for me, and mallrat's uninvited EP). i must imagine it's particularly striking for people from adelaide, as opposed to me who just visits my bestie sometimes and knows what rundle mall looks like. i do not want to appropriate the adelaidian experience but i appreciated it :)
felt like a very lived-in film. there's also definitely something about being forced to sit and watch…
BUFF 1:
inspired filmmaking !!! great!!
this played so well, awesome feeling to watch independent films like this with an audience that’s excited to laugh !
"The camera of the dispossessed." Archives reclaimed where little else can be.
Not my jam, but a good reminder that sometimes filmmaking is just fucking around with your mates.
I quickly got onto the vibe of this lovely little film and coasted for a brisk, dialogue-free 60 minutes. Enjoyed the incredibly dry comedy found throughout. Loved when the food stopped coming from the mall and started coming from *the mall*.
Glad I saw it this way. Absolutely the right venue and festival for it. Cheers.
Good fun but it went on a bit - the sex tableaux got repetitive and ran out of story to string them together. Loved the narrator/emcee.
Preceded by Sex Aids And How To Use Them which frankly ruled. Particularly the absolute commandment about partners being into stuff - consent has always been sexy, babes.
Beautiful mixture of documentary footage and fiction of an erotic dancer who falls in love, has a baby and is forced to give it up. The scene with the welfare worker - the first with post-synched dialogue i think? - is brutal in its dehumanisation of such workers, but the film overall has a freewheeling sense of splendour. These ladies have better lives than you!
Preceded by The Dream, a colourful 4-minute erotic montage of a rose and a clitoris.
Using this space to log the amazing Twin Peaks 35th Anniversary Full Season 1 Marathon that played at Static Vision HQ on Saturday. I've seen the first season a long time ago but was really glad to get a chance to see it again, especially in such a concentrated way (from 11am-8pm baby). I don't usually binge TV shows but doing eight episodes in a row fits the dreamy, unsettling vibe of something like Twin Peaks.
Not sure I got…
An old man says he spends all his time cleaning a mirror, but that mirror is smudged all over, new smudges coming with every young thing he draws to its reflection. An impressive collection of abject leathery men in low fidelity close up third, a pitch black comedy of womanhood against the world second, a study on the way streetlights and fireworks and motel lamps illuminate these lead actresses’ faces first. Threatens to end with an act of cheap violence but wisely stops just short, leaving nowhere for the rising tension to go. A movie that doesn’t end (compliment).
