2025 Sydney Film Festival

If you arrived here after a search, either scroll down to the film you were looking for, or search the text for the name of the film.   

My notes of all SFF Q&As are just notes - they are not complete transcripts, but they should be representative summaries.

This year I was only able to be in Sydney from Thursday to Saturday in week 1, and Wednesday to Saturday in week 2, so I am only reviewing the 25 films I was able to see on those days.

Of those, my top 5 films, in accordance with the rating I gave them, are:

My Father’s Shadow                                                             10/10

Blue Moon                                                                             9/10

The Mastermind                                                                     9/10

The Secret Agent                                                                    9/10

It Was Just an Accident                                                           9/10 

This year, I have once again detected a strong connecting theme between the films. It is “The sins of the father….” Many films addressed the question of one generation’s effect on their children, through crime, guilt, expectation – all forms of influence.  My favourite film of the Festival, My Father’s Shadow, was literally all about this, as its title demonstrates. But other films, like the South African film The Heart Is a Muscle (8/10 from me) also addressed this question. The Sydney Film Prize winner, Jafar Panahi’s It Was Just an Accident (8/10 from me), addressed this on a national, as well as a generational level. The Wolves Always Come at Night (7/10 from me) addressed it on a global level (climate change). Mr Nobody Against Putin (8/10 from me) addressed it in terms of the effect of nationalist politics in the classroom. There are other films too.

This year I found the films to be of exceptionally high quality, with many films rated by me at 9/10, including two on the first day….

Thursday 5 June

The President’s Cake

Iraq, USA, Qatar. Dir: Hasan Hadi     9/10

Intro by Nashen Moodley: This film won the Camera d’Or at Cannes and It Is one of several films at this year’s Festival about “acts of resistance.”

 As I was last year, in 2025 I was off to a flying start at the Festival, with a wonderful, rare film from Iraq. This Is 1990 and Iraq is suffering under trade sanctions (plus ça change…). Regardless, Saddam’s regime has decreed that for the President’s birthday, all sorts of celebrations should take place, including the baking of numerous birthday cakes by school students. Our heroine, Lamia, who is 9, draws the short straw and must somehow get ingredients for the cake. Her grandmother helps her, but it seems to be at inordinate cost, given what Granny has to hock to get the funds to make the cake.

We first meet Lamia when she’s trying to do her maths homework but Is constantly interrupted by a crowing rooster. We soon learn that this is Hindi, Lamia’s pet and constant companion. He’s a real talent! We follow Lamia and Hindi as they travel to the big city and encounter all sorts of difficulties and obstacles to completing their shopping list. There are real hazards, and the film turns into quite the thriller. But the film really Is an exploration of the exploitation of children by adults, from the dictatorship down to the classroom and even the parent. It is a worthy companion piece to Jafar Panahi’s The White Balloon (1995), which it resembles, but it presents its own story in a different context. Highly recommended.

The Mother and the Bear

Canada, Chile. Dir: Johnny Ma     8/10

This was the first of a couple of films set in “Winterpeg” – Winnipeg in winter. You don’t expect to find Korean immigrants in Winterpeg, but they are there and this film concerns some of them. There’s Sumi, who Is working away In Winnipeg, but slips on ice and ends up in a coma. There’s Sumi’s mother, who lives back In Korea but who wants to be in constant contact with her daughter (who ignores her messages), and who rushes to Sumi’s side when she is injured. As she still cannot communicate with Sumi, who decides that what Sumi needs is a husband to protect her and she uses an online dating app to find one. Kim Ho-Jung plays Sara, the mother and she is quite the comedienne. There’s a lot of hilarity and a touch of the supernatural as the story of Sumi’s life is revealed, and Sara learns to live for herself. And to sing “Unchained Melody” with abandon! Charming.

Farming the Revolution

India, France, Norway. Dir: Nishtha Jain     9/10

Intro by director Nishtha Jain and one of the producers. This Indian film Is part of a collaboration between the Dharamshala Film Festival which has reciprocal screenings with the Sydney Film Festival. 500 hours of footage was shot. Farm laws introduced by the government in 2020 threatened  half the population of India, which relied on produce from the farmers. Jain had arrived to see the 10th day of protest, and she realised she had to make this film. She had no funding for 11 months. But the farmers were on the streets for 13 months. She was lucky in that she had a fair amount of the Punjabi language, which was the language of much of the farmers’ discourse.

This extraordinary documentary really taught me a lot about the farmers’ strike In India that I had seen over a period of months on TV on the SBS World News. Little did I realise the struggle would go for 13 months and involve 12 million farmers.

The level of commitment of the filmmakers here is huge. They get right in with the farmers, to see how they conduct the protest in an ordered, Intelligent way. As Jain tells us in the Q&A afterwards, there are no country bumpkins. These are writers, thinkers, philosophers and artists. Their style of communication is absolutely phenomenal. I have never seen political points made so succinctly and yet so Intelligently, with great respect for the intellect of their audience.

Several storylines are followed, personalities emerge, and the story moves from the city to the country and back again. Anyone interested in political discourse and political organisation should study this film intently.

Q&A with Nishtha Jain and the producer whose name I did not get:

Q: How did you keep yourself safe while filming?

A: It took a month to find my characters and gain their trust. You have to ask us questions, they said, in order to “suss” them out – and we sere sort of living with them. We were also lucky not to be beaten.

Q: You had 500 hours of film to be edited. How did you create a balance between information and presence?

A: This film doesn’t do justice to all that was happening. It doesn’t cover everything. I knew the story early on: what do farmers bring to a protest? Farming! Bread was a weapon. Food became a metaphor. They fed everyone, even the poor people, even the police! There’s also the metaphor of community care. You can only fight hate with care. The farmers knew this. This kept me going when I had no funding. The film is also relevant to today.

Q: How many camera people did you have? Did you film and how did you edit?

A: I bought a DSLR camera and tripod. We had one camera person and one sound person and an assistant. They doubled as driver. Editing was difficult. I thought it should be a docu-series, but I couldn’t fund it. But I got funding for 1hr 45mins. It actually boils down to a fight about land.

Q: This is a deeply inspiring film. It is a gift to the world that they were so tenacious – and they won. How did you stay the distance – and what made Modi blink?

A: 1. I was experienced in making long-form stories, but I was also influenced by the farmers’ tenacity.

2. If the party can’t get into the villages to canvas for the elections which were coming up – and the farmers threatened that – that was very important.

Q: Are there Distributors for this film [in India], given the politics?

A: There is censorship in India on most films. That’s necessary for theatrical release in India. I haven’t even tried (I would be refused). But you can still see the film at Film Festivals. The Government hasn’t seen the film – they only go off the synopsis. But the film is being shown abroad.

Q: Did the Congress Party win an election in Utah Pradesh? Does that affect the Minister’s son who’s on bail.

A: The father lost [his seat in the election]. I don’t think he [the son] will be charged. Also, the farmers are not just country bumpkins. They are writers, singers, advocates. Farmers all get the time to read (they get their books from the local libraries). So it didn’t feel like a protest site.

Lesbian Space Princess

Australia. Dirs: Emma Hough Hobbs, Leila Varghese      2/10

Bright and attractive colours, the voices of Richard Roxburgh and Kween Kong, and the odd good joke, led me to give this film its 2 points. Nothing else merited a point. There is a lot of shouting and swearing (in addition to all the genital references that are part of the narrative) and it managed to give me a headache early on. Not many of the cast have good voices for animated film. Some are hard to decipher. A film best avoided, in my view.

Friday 6 June

Agatha’s Almanac

Canada. Dir: Amalie Atkins     7/10

Intro by the director, Amalie Atkins: She is from Saskatoon. The film took 7 years to make, partly without grants. She and 3 other women were the crew. She had a Bolex camera. More in the Q&A afterwards.

This film has a kind of handmade look, which at first I took for amateurishness (the very first scene has quite poor foley work, and some of the subtitles are misspelled (eg “tomatoe”). But on learning that Amalie is a contemporary artist, who has previously made “art films,” I thought perhaps this handmade look is intentional.

The film is about Agatha Bock, who it turns out is the director’s aunt, hence the comprehensive access. We learn quite a lot about farming practices during this film (I took plenty of notes). We learn a lot about having a positive attitude to life, and just “getting on with things,” but do we learn about Agatha? Agatha tells us: “You can have a life of joy and hope… but it is not always easy.” But what do we learn about the hard times. Not much.

And so I was left wondering at the end of the film: does Agatha live on the farm full-time? Even in the midst of yet more “Winterpeg”? Who is John? Where are her siblings? Who will take over the farm, when Agatha has to give it up? What was the story behind her hospital visits? What’s the story behind the labelling obsession? Why does she thresh peas inside the house? Some of these questions were addressed by the director in the Q&A after the film. But it was almost as if there needed to be another film made to take up some of these hanging questions. Some in the audience mentioned to me that they had more than enough about Agatha already!

An interesting and engaging film with a great central character, but a film which did not seem to know where it was going in the end.

Q&A with director Amalie Atkins:

Q: How did you persuade Agatha to take part?

A: She said yes right away because I’m really sneaky and told her I was just taking photos. But she had certain boundaries, eg upstairs where all the labelling was – she was very secretive about it. But she is very easy to shoot, and her world is so full. I wanted the film to show her while she was alive. She died just last month [May 2025].

Q: What does Agatha think about the film?

A: She’s never told me. She doesn’t care.

Q: The film is shot in 16mm. Why? It makes me think of the past.

A: It seemed like the best choice. I always shoot on film. I used to shoot on 8mm, then I went to 16mm. It makes the film seem timeless. Some of the scenes in the film were shot 3 years apart.

Q: The geography of the house is a mystery to me.

A: Agatha sleeps in the living room. The house has a weird feeling to it. Upstairs is heavy and dark. Downstairs is lighter.

Q: Your design and composition is very playful. Did you collaborate with others on the film?

A: It took a long time. Shooting and editing, shooting and editing. As I worked, I found music by “Greeenhouse” from LA. I used a couple of songs. But they kept composing and I used that too. I found musicians on Bandcamp. You can try out music without the musicians knowing it. There are 4 musicians, including a friend, Jas Forest (“Castle If”), AJ Cornell (?), sound mixer, Katarina Gribel (?) from Ukraine. It’s a collage.

Q: Why can’t you stack plates? [This is a rule Agatha made for the film crew]

A: So you don’t have to wash both sides?

Q: Is John her brother?

A: Yes. Aunt Amalie just died, but there’s others: George and Bernie and others.

Q: Is this film intended as a balm for the nervous system? Did you learn something about yourself?

A: Practical things. How to get older – to be myself as I get older. How not to be ashamed. How to be a Mennonite. She’s unapologetic.

Q: Does she stay on the farm in the snow?

A: This is the first year she won’t live on the farm full time.

Q: Will the family take over the farm?

A: I don’t really know. It will stay in the family but maybe someone like my sister will take over the farm.

Blue Moon

USA, Ireland. Dir: Richard Linklater     9/10

I loved Blue Moon. I loved its literateness. And its literariness. I loved its musicality. And its music. And how could I not love a movie which features EB White as one of its characters.

I think the key to appreciating this movie is to be someone who loves musicals, as everyone associated with it seems to do (Richard Linklater directs). Obviously, people will know the main characters: Richard Rogers and Lorenz Hart (with Oscar Hammerstein often mentioned until he arrives in person later in the film). But there are many references to other leading characters of the period: I’ve mentioned the writer, journalist and editor, EB White, who in 1959 updated William Strunk’s “The Elements of Style,” a seminal book for me, and who went on to write “Charlotte’s Web” and “Stuart Little,” among other works. There’s also the photographer WeeGee and a precocious little kid who turns out to be Stephen Sondheim.

It’s a witty and perceptive screenplay (by Robert Kaplow, who also write Me and Orson Welles (2008, also Linklater). But the star of this film (leaving aside a bravura performance by Ethan Hawke as Lorenz Hart in the last days before his death at 48) is the music, and the way it is used. Every song played (there’s a piano player in Sardi’s bar area where the main action takes place) is deliberately placed for maximum meaning or emotion. This elevates what could have been a fairly stage-bound piece to something more, and creatively interrupts the rather talky screenplay.

Yes, it’s talky: Hart does go on a bit. But I really didn’t want to miss a word of this insight into a creative, but troubled mind as it grapples with the end of a fruitful partnership with an equally creative partner.

Saturday 7 June

The Golden Spurtle

Australia, UK. Dir: Constantine Costi     8/10

Intro by Director Constantine Costi and Porridge-making competitor and star, Toby Wilson: They found larger-than-life characters (Costi is an opera director), but the film is as far as you can get from opera. This is a little community. Toby was asked how it was having a fm crew with you when you were competing. He replied: “It was pretty distracting, actually.”

For a film about a porridge-making competition, this film is surprisingly creative and stylish, and very insightful. The film starts with the “Porridge Chieftan,” Committee Chair, Charlie Miller, who introduces us to the small village of Carrbridge, and its various inhabitants. The inhabitants are interviewed, alongside the competitors, and the film comes alive with these fascinating people. They come out with fantastic lines, like this from competitor (and past winner), Ian Bishop: “I used to be in the martial arts – like big time. Now I’m standing here thinking… porridge.”

There’s deadpan humour aplenty, with the film allowing the characters to tell their own stories in their own ways. And they are all either amused or amusing in their own right. What the film never does is make fun of the characters. It respects them, even if it funds what they are doing inherently funny. It never over-sentimentalises either. It generally strikes just the right notes at the right times.

One sour note though: the music is very loud and occasionally distracting. For example, early on we are asked to listen for the “bloop bloop” sound of porridge cooking – but we can’t hear it for the music. But this is a bit of a quibble. Maybe the director loved the music a bit too much. In any case, this is a fun film with a heart and a sense of humour.

The Mastermind

USA. Dir: Kelly Reinhardt.       IN COMPETITION.          9/10

This was really one of my favourite films. Some people I talk to at the Festival found it long and slow, but I found it riveting. The film needs to take its time to unfold the story of a heist set in the 1970s, and it needs extra time to convey what I perceive as its theme: the banality of crime. Crime is tedious, sometimes boring, often doesn’t go well. The problem that “Masterminds” inevitably face (or at least all those we know about because for them crime didn’t pay), is the fallibility, stupidity and (ironically) dishonesty of most criminals.

The Mastermind deals with these issues as we follow our “Mastermind,” James Blaine Mooney (the British actor Josh O’Connor) through the planning and execution of a daring, but rather odd, art theft. I’m not familiar with the work of Mr O’Connor, but he’s in good company here, working with an ensemble that includes Bill Camp, Hope Davis and Gaby Hoffman, with Matthew Maher in a small, but significant role. He’s the one who offers his thoughts about pulling off a crime, just a little too late for our Mastermind: “A little advice from me: never work with a wildcard. You know, for next time.”

There are marvellous tinges of the 1970s throughout: pantyhose in plastic eggs, sewing your own clothes, phone boxes with phonebooks with pages missing, and Chagall prints decorating a home. It is not until 2/3rds of the way through the film that I was able to spot confirmations of its setting in the early 70s – a car’s registration in 1970 is ever-so-briefly shown. And there’s a wonderful 70s-tinged jazz score by Rob Mazurek, featuring lots of drum cymbals and vibraphone. There are the compulsory nods to two of my favourite heist films: The Killing (1956, Kubrick) and Rififi (1955, Dassin), the latter in the barn sequence.

After the excitement of the planning and execution of the heist, director Kelly Reichardt slows things right down as Mooney goes on the run. Now we see the extent of the banality and the widening ripples of the consequences of a crime-gone-wrong. The film takes on a kind of “Nighthawks at the Diner” feel as Mooney catches buses and rents seedy hotel rooms.

In surprising a moment of clarity and self-knowledge, Mooney says on the phone to his wife: “3/4 of what I’ve done is for you and the kids,” But maybe his use of the present tense betrays his self-delusion. It’s that kind of movie. Clever. Challenging. Great.

One to One: John and Yoko

UK. Dirs: Kevin MacDonald, Sam Rice-Edwards     8/10

This film contains lots of footage of John and Yoko that I have never seen. The first part is arranged as a montage and features lots of personalities and celebrities of the times – the early 1970s – which it does not name. Figures such as Gabby Hoffman, Alan Ginsberg, George Wallace and Billy Graham appear without captions. “You had to be there, the film seems to be saying. And don’t we wish we were!

There’s also intimate footage shot inside John and Yoko’s New York apartment, including John looking after the children. It’s all fascinating and the editing job is tremendous. Eventually, from a seeming pastiche, emerges the story of John and Yoko seeing a story about neglected children with disabilities, living in shocking conditions in an institution. They decide to organise a concert to raise money for the children and draw attention to their plight. They succeed. There’s very moving footage of the children they supported.

The footage of the actual concert is interesting because, apar from John and Yoko and a couple of hangers-on, no other musicians are credited. I guess this is all-of-a piece with the general approach of no captions, but it left me wondering who else took part. I recognised Joey Ramone and Stephen Stills. I guess I can look the rest up.

One aspect of John that this film revealed to me was just how much of a feminist he was. Inn his choice of language, and in his sensitivity to women being “put down,” he emerges as ahead of his time. Yoko was invited to attend and speak at the First International Feminist Conference at Harvard in June 1973, with Betty Friedan. John accompanied her. That footage is amazing. There’s also fascinating audio material of his conversations with Alan Klein, his manager.

A very interesting documentary, but not exactly satisfying.

Pike River

New Zealand. Dir: Robert Sarkies     7/10

This is the story of a mining tragedy, but it is not a documentary; it is a recreation, using actors. This has enabled the filmmakers to show things that would never have been filmed and documented, such as the deteriorating relationships affected badly by deep grief. So it is able to tell a very full story of the struggle of those whose loved ones were killed to get “justice,” compensation, and most importantly to them, access to the bodies of their loved ones. It’s a long story and, at 138 minutes, it’s a longish film, but never less than interesting. It is of necessity episodic, but it moves along and the acting is excellent. It also deals very well with quite complex and technical legal issues. The twists and turns in the story once again demonstrate that truth can indeed be stranger than fiction.

Illuminating.

Sunday 8 June

Mr. Nobody Against Putin

Denmark, Czech Republic. Dir: David Borenstein     8/10

As much as we hear on the news almost every day and night about Putin’s war on Ukraine and the heroic resistance of the Ukrainian people to the invasion, what we don’t hear about is resistance to the war from within Russia. I have listened to one podcast which detailed the thoughts and experiences of a Russian journalist in Moscow in the last year. She described the various changes taking place because of the war – such as ubiquitous recruiting stalls in the streets, and the occasional disappearance of people who had voiced their dissent to the “Special Military Operation,” which has meant that people are unwilling to discuss the war in public. That was chilling enough.

Now comes a film that gives us a cogent picture of the changes taking place in a small school in a small town as they move (or are moved) towards a war mindset.

To illustrate this for us the film gives us teacher-videographer Pavel Talankin, an agreeable young man who seems to have landed his dream job in the hometown he loves. His job is to plan events for the school and video those events. He’s a readymade documentarian and he narrates his own footage. And he looks almost as young as his students, so he has a great relationship with them. This enables him to get a few intimate revelations from some of the older students (and ex-students), and these enhance our understanding of some disturbing aspects of the war.

Talankin senses that government war propaganda is taking over the curriculum and the school hours to an alarming extent and begins filming to document these changes. Eventually, thanks to social media, he finds a collaborator outside Russia, the Danish filmmaker, David Bornstein. Bornstein has said that he realised that Talankin would eventually need to leave Russia forever, because the regime would never tolerate the dissemination of the footage. And indeed, as the film reveals, Talankin does have to risk his life to get the footage out, and he has had to leave behind his mother (a school librarian who appears in the film to great effect) and all his friends and relatives.

The help David Bornstein gives to Talankin must include shaping the footage into a cogent story, and this he does very well. I gather there is even more footage which may well appear in the future in another film, but in Mr. Nobody Against Putin we see the clear arc of Talankin’s story, from his initial misgivings to his extremely moving farewell speech to his students and staff (disguised as a valedictory address), and his final escape from Russia.

So this is an important film which exposes the huge changes taking place within Russia because of Putin and his Special Military Operation. There’s something strange about Talankin that I can’t quite put my finger on. He does rather revel in his role as whistleblower, and he’s not much of a tactician – he resigns from his job in protest, before he realises that the videography is precisely what he needs to expose the regime. So he “unresigns.” But he’s fundamentally an endearing character, and a most unlikely rebel.

One viewer in the Czech Republic told Talankin that he hated the Russians, but that Mr. Nobody Against Putin had made him reconsider. He realised he knew nothing about ordinary people in Russia who might be against Putin’s war. This film had opened his eyes to that possibility. So, it is an important and valuable addition to the debate about the Russian invasion of Ukraine.

Wednesday 11 June

Mirrors No. 3

Germany. Dir: Christian Petzoldt.        IN COMPETITION     8/10

I was a great fan of Christian Petzolt’s last film, Afire (2023) and his earlier work, including Transition (2018) and Barbara (2012). Mirrors No 3 has something of the atmosphere of Afire – a sort of “there’s something here I don’t quite get” feeling.

Like Afire, Mirrors is set in an isolated home in a lovely rural area. There’s a mysterious feeling to the house and the woman who lives there. But there’s also something very strange about Laura (Paula Beer), the young woman whose story we follow. The opening scenes are quite perplexing, as Laura seems bereft and without purpose, losing her bag and forgetting an appointment with her boyfriend to go away for the weekend. There’s clearly something wrong with Laura – and I still don’t know what it is.

Also, as in Afire, there’s a terrible, shocking accident, beautifully staged. But this one occurs early on, unlike Afire’s tragic event which occurs at the end of that film. Petzolt surrounds this event with mystery, as various characters appear and disappear, and we don’t know how significant they might be. Finally the film settles into its main narrative, about the relationship between Laura and the woman who helps her after a tragic car crash.

All the actors involved are compelling, but we get no inkling of their true feelings and motivations, though early on we begin to suspect the reason for the family who takes in Laura acting the way they do. But as to Laura’s problem? I’m still baffled.  I’m also baffled as to why the father and son, being mechanics, relied so much on bicycles to travel between work and home. Don’t mechanics always have several spare cars hanging around?

Being baffled in a Petzolt film is still quite a pleasant experience, and it does seem that Petzolt loves to throw in puzzling details to distract the viewer. As Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons sing in the final song (The Night, from 1972 ): “You know you're gonna lose more than you found/ and the night begins to turn your head around.”

But one can have too much of a good thing, and I can’t help feeling that Mirrors No 3 needed at least one prequel or a sequel.

All That’s Left of You

Germany, Cyprus, Palestine, Jordan, Greece, Qatar, Saudi Arabia. Dir: Cherian Davis.    IN COMPETITION.                                 6/10

“Based on actual events”: this phrase begins the film, and it always raises the question: how much of what we see is true?” It is 1988 in the occupied West Bank and we see a couple of young men chasing each other and running into errors trouble. Then we flash forward, and a woman tells the tale of one of these young men. Who is she? Who is he? What year is this? Suddenly, it’s 1948 and syrupy music plays as the Palestinians flee Jaffa. At last we meet Sharif who owns a lovely home and orange groves in Jaffa and does not want to leave. But bombs are falling and bullets are flying and, eventually, he packs his terrified family off to safety. He stays behind to negotiate with the Israeli enemy, and they reach a deal in principle, but it’s soon broken, and his land is confiscated. Terrifying scenes show cruel Israelis treating Sharif like dirt. It’s also a timely reminder of some of the origins of the current situation in Palestine.

Suddenly it is 1978, Sharif is old, and his daughter is getting married. Salim is his son, who is grown up and has his own son, Noor. Noor acts up, but Salim simply says: “I hate what happened. But what could I have done?”

Now it is 1988 and Noor is older. He is shot and needs a CT scan at Haifa, in Israel. This requires permits. Now, although the situation is grave, I’m afraid we enter soap opera territory. He’s brain dead and the parents must decide whether Noor becomes an organ donor. They consult the Imam. The situation is very unclear. Eventually, Noor helps 6 people and (I knew it) they want to visit all the organ recipients: 4 Palestinian and 2 Jewish. The Jewish boy is dead. What did the other Jewish boy get? The heart (of course). I understand this may be true, but we’ve seen it before. At least the heart problems he has prevent him from having to serve in the army.

Suddenly it’s 2022, and they want to go back to the old neighbourhood in Jaffa. And we all know you can’t go home again. But you can recite a poem.

I’ve relayed so much of the plot because this film is a series of events, which give interesting – and very sad  – context for today’s troubles. But the episodic nature of these “true events” prevented me from engaging emotionally, and, I am sorry to say, it left me rather cold. Beautifully filmed, though.

Ancestral Visions of the Future

France, Germany, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Lesotho. Dir: Lemohang Mosese.                                                                            5/10

Visionary, yes. Director and screenwriter Lemohang Mosese described this film as “An ode to cinema, and an eternal tribute to my mother.” Fair enough, but I should have paid more attention to the subtext of this, and of the description in the SFF brochure: “It’s unlike anything else you’ll see at this year’s Festival.” Warning! Warning, Will Robinson!

We see what (in another pop reference) I can only describe as “An unprotected arm in a cage of bush flies.” If only Yoko had access to those flies for her artwork (see One to One: John & Yoko, from this year’s SFF).

A gangster does circle work in his car, and our narrator tells us, portentously: “I have returned home to remember my face.” A length of scarlet cloth unfolds in unlikely places, reappearing several times, including burning on a table and surrounding the gangster’s car tyre. A woman sews its edges with a sewing machine. And?

Look, I get the anti-colonial aspects of the film and that the lack of a traditional narrative is the whole point of the film. I realise there’s a philosophy there, and plenty of ideas and reflections. But it didn’t speak to me, I’m afraid. And it didn’t captivate me visually.

For me, the best thing in the film is the martial arts puppeteer. And he’s not in it for long enough.

Thursday 12 June

The Wolves Always Come at Night

Australia, Mongolia, Germany. Dir: Gabrielle Brady     7/10

Introduction by Jennie Neighbour with Producers Rita Walsh and Ariana Tserenpil and Director Gabrielle Brady:

This film is eligible for the Australian Documentary Award. It is a co-production of Australia, Mongolia, Germany, Denmark and more. One of the filmmakers (Gabrielle Brady?) said, quoting another filmmaker, “A film is never finished. Only abandoned.”

I had questions about this film from the outset. How can it be an Australian documentary? How is it a documentary? I was alerted to this problem by the obvious use of (bad) foley in the very first scene. But then again, there was an awful lot of flare on the lens in some early scenes. Was this an artistic choice or an accident? Who can tell?

We soon settle into the tale of a fascinating lifestyle in Mongolia. The scene-setting in the first 30 minutes is excellent. The family seems to be quite wealthy, with a lot of sheep and horses. But all is not well. There’s devastating dust storm. A town meeting discusses the phenomenon of “desertification.” It’s climate change! The family makes a decision. At just over the hour-mark, they move to the city in a big “people-mover.” They leave the rest of the extended family behind.

In the city (Ulaan Bataar), the family set up camp in what seems to be a spare block of land (or someone’s back yard). None of this is explained. More camera flare. The Father, Davaa, hears a horse whinnying. Are there horses in the city of Ulaan Bataar? He sets off next day to find work and somehow lands a job in a quarry driving an excavator. Did he have to train, or did he just know how to drive the machine. None of this is explained.

A herd of horses gallop down a laneway with 2 herders. Is this real? Meantime, Father, Mother (Zaya) and children try to make a new life. They register with the authorities (it is an official settlement and there are inspections). There is no electricity and they have to dig a toilet (but, being nomadic, they’d be used to all that). An old couple tells Zaya: “Once you come here you rarely go back.” But they do plan to go back and raise horses and cows. Davaa misses the stallion he sold. It knew him well. He begins to cry and Zaya tells him they will go back.

There’s a beautiful song about a wind blowing from the singer’s homeland. The father finds a horse in the laneway: “I knew you’d find me, he says.”

Original music by Aaron Cupples. Could this be the son of singer/songwriter Peter Cupples?

This is some strange type of documentary, for sure, ending with what seems to be a dream sequence and a poetic song. It’s fascinating and lovely and puzzling in equal measures. The Q&A should clarify the attitude of the filmmakers to this.…

Q&A:

Q: Jennie Neighbour to Director Gabrielle Brady: How did you meet [the couple]?

A: I had a relationship with Mongolia for about a decade. I met Ariunaa, a very prolific producer in Mongolia. Our lead researcher, Dobaa, had been active in meeting people. He met that couple. We interviewed them but they actually interviewed us and Davaasuren (the Father) told us how to make the film.

Q: Could you clarify how the filming works?

A: It is filming in retrospect and yet everything was happening in real events. But Davaa wanted us to go back to show what we’ve lost and [we had to film it in retrospect].

Q. What were the little vials or bottles you shared in the spring?

A: (Davaa through interpreter): It’s a traditional thing. A snuff bottle we use to greet people. You treat each other to it as a sign of respect. His is from his great grandfather.

Q: Were you self-sufficient? What did you eat? Did you have to go to the city very often?

A: (Davaa through interpreter): They really go to the city. If they needed to get provisions they went to a near town. Otherwise they lived off their animals.

Q: The ending seems to offer hope…

A: It was really up to us to show parallel realities. It is tough to have the broken connection. So we needed to have a double ending and to show both reality and hope.

A: (Director): As herders, their ultimate dream is to live with their animals, and they aim to go back. They have 100 animals now and they want to go back.

Q: Is climate change impacting the herding practice?

A: (Ariunaa, the Mongolian producer): Yes, 100% they are affected. In the last 10 years the nomads coming to Lambaaka (?) to stay there increased tenfold. Of 80 million head of stock, they lost 10%, which equals 8 million. But sometimes nature gives its blessing. This year the pastures are green! The town is dry.

Q: Did the stallion actually return?

A: (Gabrielle, the Director): That’s more a question for you!

Q: Why was there a big herd of horses in the city?

A: (Director, Gabrielle?): Horses have a huge resonance for Mongolia. There was a big herd that moved around. He really did hear horses at night. And then we made night become day, and day become night.

A: (Ariunaa, Mongolian producer): The horse is a metaphor for us. A horse helps you run away from danger and a horse is your friend. They’re extremely smart animals. The spirit of the horse is so close to Mongolian men.

The Heart Is a Muscle

South Africa, Saudi Arabia. Dir: Imran Hamdulay     8/10

Intro by Nishen Moodley and Director Imran Hamdulay:

Nishen said this was “the best South African film I’ve seen in a long time. And he would know because he would have seen nearly all of them. The director gave special thanks to Nishen and the Sydney Film Festival team and staff. He was thankful for their generosity. Last week, he noted one of the biggest cinemas in Cape Town closed down. He was clearly grateful to be showing his film in the magnificent State Theatre.

This film fits into the overall theme I see in this year's Festival, of “the sins of the fathers” being visited upon their sons. There’s even a point in the film when a character says, “they gave us all their shit.”

The film begins in a familiar manner, in that we see a shopping trolley, hands and arms pushing it, with a child in tow. However, these hands are ringed, and these arms are tattooed. A father is buying whatever rubbish his kid wants and we see the kid only in the background.

From this familiar beginning, we follow a slightly different path. The father, Ryan, is driving a very big truck and he drives towards a suburban get-together with nicely dressed, wealthy and hip young Cape-coloured people with kids. On the way they visit a burned-out house and speak to an older man, whom we later discover is Ryan’s father.

Now the film veers into territory covered by the Australian television series The Slap (2011, Ayres et al), but with many effective South African touches. The group of male friends here are - or seemingly were - members of some sort of gang, and they have a shared past. When Ryan’s sun goes missing they are able to use asome sort of network to get information on a suspect, André. When Ryan confronts André, André says, “Me and you: we’re the same.” This makes Ryan go mad and hit him brutally.

A detailed world has very effectively been created by the filmmakers, and a pair of mysteries set up to boot: where is the boy and what has Ryan got to hide? But now the film shifts gear, as it begins to investigate Ryan’s past. From fast moving action the film turns introspective, and the actor playing Ryan gets to show us another side. It is a very intense performance, and Keenan Arrison is a very talented actor.

There’s a degree of complexity about the relationships of the characters, especially Ryan’s with André, and I applaud the film for not shying away from this. Nothing is a simple as it might be, and evets are turned on their head.

At the end, Ryan’s wife, Leila, sums it up: “We are everything that came before us. All of it.”

Q&A with Director Imran Hamdulay and lead actor Keenan Arrison:

Q: Your film focuses on the lingering an impact of a history of violence. Please also talk about the spark for the film.

A: (Imran): I come from that area and so does Keenan. Often films about violence don't offer the stories of people there. The idea of sins of the fathers centres on trauma. But I'd like people to talk more about the importance of forgiveness and communication.

As to the spark: It actually happened, when a kid of an acquaintance of mine went missing. He was afraid, but the father was always the most level-headed person. When the kid was found, I've never seen anger like it.

Q: Keenan, films of this nature are rare. You do it well. What does this film mean in your body of work.?

A: This film would otherwise be seen as a gangster film. But the complexity of the character appealed to me to try to shift normal perceptions. This role is so different from what I've done before. It was a privilege to play this role. It allowed me to go deeper and explore my relationship with my father and his father.

Q: (Audience): I'm in a beautiful state of shock. The film is not about what toxic masculinity as much as what men inherit from their fathers. It's a moving depiction of aspects of masculinity.

A: Thank you.

Q: The seismic violent event of the past shapes the film, but is never fully explained – a really interesting choice.

A: It was something that happened while I was writing. The script editor told me to hold back, hold back. Memory is not a temporal thing. It just lives inside of you. We asked ourselves: are we being kind?

Q: Thanks for a great film. The language is Afrikaans and English mixed. Does everyone speak like this?

A: (Keenan): Yes, but on the Cape Flats there's a kind of mixed language: Dutch, English... the language was so important to Imran. Language is a character in this world.

A: (Imran): And people in this area speak a different dialect than others do in Cape Town.

Q: About the song at the end?

A: One song we composed together. It's a song of fathers and sons. The musician wrote it to his son. A lot of songs in the film come from the pop artist J. Cole. He writes tough songs to his daughter. Thanks for noticing!

Q: The imagery of the burned-out home and the importance of the homes of the characters...?

A: Home comes back to memory. Does memory have memory? I don't remember much about my dad (he died when I was 9).

Q: (For Imran): What does the title mean to you?

A: The title came during the edit. I couldn't figure out the title. It was to be the title of a Ben Affleck film and so I knew that every producer would have to accept the new title I came up with.  But the heart can be tough, tender, etc [like a heart].

The Secret Agent

Brazil, France, Netherlands, Germany. Dir: Kleber Mendonça Filho.

IN COMPETITION.                                                            9/10

Intro by Nishen Moodley: Kleber Mendonça Filho is my favourite filmmaker, and all 4 of his feature films have been in the Sydney Film Festival. And Kleber is here!

Kleber continued the intro:

In 1979 in Brazil, the oppressive regime was in power since the coup d’état in 1969. They passed an amnesty law to pardon themselves. This gave Brazil a kind of trauma accordingly. This film is not a reenactment of events, but a reconstruction of the atmosphere of the times. In the last 10 years, Brazil went back about 50 years. When I make a film it is connected with all the films I have seen. I was a teenager in England in the 1980s and I saw a lot of Australian films in cinema and on TV. There's a bit of Aussie film in this film – shout out to Peter Weir who is in the house!

Nishen: The film won four prizes in Cannes. This is its first public screening!

All of Mendonça Filho’s films are comprehensive. His eye for detail is second to none. He creates complete worlds – this time Brazil in 1977. I could not believe how every detail was in place so accurately, but looking effortless – as if it were already there, which some of it may have been but most of it won’t be.

For me, this is not a perfect film, but a less-than-perfect Mendonça Filho film is still way more interesting to me than most other films. They are so ambitious, and always fascinating. I imagine that they would “get better” wit repeated viewings, by which I guess I mean that I would understand them better and appreciate the nuances more.

The film’s opening title states: “Our film is set in Brazil in 1977- a period of great mischief.” We are immediately captivated by a bizarre scenario, involving a yellow VW beetle, a body in a service station driveway, and police who ignore the body and attend to minor matters.

The film is in 3 parts. Part 1, “The Boy’s Nightmare,” Part 2, “Identification institutes,” and Part 3, “Blood transfusion.” But my feeling is that this is just a kind of loose grouping. The overall story involves our hero, Marcelo (Wagner Moura, magnificent), who is a University Professor on-the-run from the authorities. He has various adventures and close shaves (almost literally!). But he’s not much of a secret agent (I wish I’d asked Mendonça Filho about the title in the Q&A), and his story is more a series of accumulating events rather than a narrative arc.

But them Mendonça Filho told us that in his introduction. He said the film was “a reconstruction of the atmosphere of the times.” And what a reconstruction!  The Q&A explains more of the director’s intentions and ideas.

A post-script from me. The film makes many references to Jaws (1975, Spielberg), probably the biggest film of the 1970s. As the film closes, we see that the hospital at which Marcelo’s son is working is actually the blood bank! And it was formerly the Boa Vista Cinema where Jaws had been screening. In the final seconds of the film I’m sure I saw the tailfin of a taxi passing in front of the blood bank!

Q&A with Nishen Moodley and Director Kleber Mendonça Filho

Q: (Nishen): The film brings together so many elements of your previous films: memory, betrayal, race, fun, eroticism. What sparked it and the many design elements?

A: It's a handful, isn't it? There was a painful start. It takes a long time to start all the elements – I don't pre-design a script. I wanted to allow myself to go back in time. I was 9 in ‘77. It's a foggy memory but I remember tone and atmosphere. I remember things from the newspaper. I read newspapers beginning from the movie ad page – a whole page with all the cinemas. Also, I got info from archives – my own personal archive, the Brazil cinematheque, etc. It's a very personal film in many ways.

Q: the cinematic style of the era – how did you shoot it?

A: It's my second time with Panavision anamorphic lenses... but there's a tone I'm not interested in. If you use technology your films can look too perfect, too cinematic. But I particularly like to use widescreen. I also decided not to use Steadicam. There's more than one kilometre of dolly track.

Q: Wow! Brilliant! I'm proud as a Brazilian. The cinema industry is booming in Brazil. There’s a new documentary by Petra about evangelical people in a hotel who called themselves “refugees.” I worked with refugees in NZ. What do you think is going to happen with immigrants? Why are countries closing to immigrants?

A: I'm interested in the idea that you can be a refugee in your own country. The characters from Angola were based on a woman my mother knew from Mozambique. The world is really just f---ed up.

Q: Please explain the significance of the bizarre scene in the park with the leg.

A: I come from a city that is full of poets, writers and filmmakers – from early silent films. There was violence against the gay community in the 1970s by the police. They couldn't say it in the newspaper and two journalists came up with the concept of “the hairy leg.” It was code for gay bashing – in the news! It also reminds me of the humour in Czechoslovakia after 1968. There were so many ways to discuss awful stuff. And I got to work with stop-motion for the first time.

Q: I was fascinated by all the VWs you're using – in good nick.

A: There are many collectors in the region. They lent them for two months. I like the beetle. My family had one in the ‘70s. But I prefer the police Chevrolet. There were always grey and white, always five men in them. It was a symbol of the dictatorship. People would disappear. Many collectors were delighted to take part, but they want their cars to look perfect.

Q: The first film [of yours] I watched was the Green Vinyl short film [2004]. How do you show reality and misery?

A: Misery is part of any narrative. I like the film to be ahead of me. It has the logic of the 1970s but it also has the logic of Brazil. But it is 100% real. When I was shooting I remembered Australian cinema – a notion of Australian cinema – mystery comes.

Q: (Urgent question): I was wondering if you had heard of the Shark Arm Case. It was a murder with a body in a suitcase and they left the arm outside the case and they found a shark and took it to Manly and the arm [inside] had a tattoo.

A I was researching and looking for stories about sharks and I found the story!

Q: I know you have mentioned Brazilian silent films, but did you connect with the Cinema Nuevo movement?

A: It is part of who we are as Brazilian cinema people. It is like a tax. I come from the north and that is really well-shot by Cinema Nuevo  movement. It is part of us. We get it. I am always quoting it – without making specific references.

The Ballad of Wallis Island

UK. Dir: James Griffiths     7/10

This is a perfectly harmless comedy, but it feels confected – probably because it is!

There are many good gags, the premise is fun, and the setting on a remote island (actually the coast of Wales) is great, but I doubt I’ll remember much of it in, say, a year’s time. Lots of people have said they really liked it, and I liked it at the time (as is sometimes evidenced by my lack of notes), but it has left me wanting something more. Authenticity? I’m not sure. The film is quite sentimental, but it didn’t convince me.

I should mention how effortlessly funny Tim Key is. Without him, playing Charles, a lonely man who fills in all silences with silly jokes and puns, the film would go nowhere. I found the character of Herb McGwyer (co-writer Tom Basden) tiresome, and I thought Carey Mulligan was (strangely) simultaneously miscast and under-utilised. As for the character of Michael, her husband (Akemnji Ndifornyen): he was so intriguing and out-of-the-blue that he almost overbalanced the film. He needs his own film.

I was trying to remember where I’d seen Tim Key before, and I finally realised he was Alan Partridge’s occasional sidekick. He’s also one of the co-writers of this film. He’s very funny, but it is a wearing kind of funny. Too much of a good thing, perhaps.

I found myself looking at my watch after about an hour, and the film did overstay its welcome. I read later that it has been expanded from a short film made in 2007, and I think it shows. The filmmakers have no trouble in finding more jokes to expand the run-time, but they do not seem to have extended the emotional depth of the film. Amusing, but ultimately a bit annoying.

Friday 13 June

My Father’s Shadow

UK, Nigeria. Dir: Akinola Davies, Jnr.    IN COMPETITION.  9/10

Intro: by director Akinola Davies Jr.

The film was written by him with his brother about the relationship he didn’t quite have with his father. It’s about brotherhood, fatherhood and nationhood. There’s a conversation, too, about fledgling democracy. It’s a portrait of Lagos as he remembers it.

The film begins with a classic montage of childhood memories. Of their father, one brother says, “I will see you in my dreams.” There are images of decay in nature, contrasted with these two beautiful boys playing, seemingly alone. They have cut-out dolls which have names like “Undertaker” and “Paul Bearer” and they play wrestling games with them. Their father is photographed from a low angle, so he looks like the inspiration for the wrestling dolls that they make.

An impromptu trip to Lagos begins on foot. On a bus there are lots of headlines and radio stories and this promotes a big argument amongst the passengers about the government. It’s an inventive way to put us in the picture. The bus runs out of petrol and everyone’s walking again.

Once we get to Lagos, we have portraits of people on the streets and in the shops and bars of Lagos, but they are not just extras. They all seem to have emotions and back-stories. This is quite extraordinary. By means of a newspaper headline, we are introduced to a politician who has won the elections – but he’s already being used as wrapping paper.

As they wander the streets of Lagos, the boys discover that their father was very respected in whatever his former life was. People are very glad to see him and address him as “Kapo.” The security guard of an amusement park sings a song of loss to Kapo (his real name is Fola) We will eventually discover that he had an army platoon of some sort. He also has a mistress in Lagos.

Fola tells Akin: “Family is the most important thing.” But, as in this year’s SFF film The Heart is a Muscle (see earlier review), that’s not really true. The theme I perceive in this year’s SFF (the sins of the fathers) is illustrated here yet again by the fact that Fola’s father had told him: “The only job of a man is to look after his family. But he was never there.”

At the beach, Fola opens up about his dead brother who drowned. This memory is kept alive by naming his oldest boy after him. And this was foretold to him by a strange woman he met on a bus.

The personal mixes with the political, as we find that the election results, which were to be announced, are not announced. The military has alleged election interference, so they are going to disregard the results. (Where have we heard this before?). In order to maintain law and order, the presidential election is annulled. The crowd in the bar goes wild! The camera work is amazing here and it is accompanied by urgent drumbeats. In the ensuing panic, Fola is nearly murdered in cold blood by the military leaving Lagos. Or is he? Is he dead? How did he die? We are not told.

After this film, we in the audience had intense discussions about the ending. Was it a dream? (After all, the film opens with one of the brothers saying of his father, “I will see you in dreams”). And the film is called “My Father’s Shadow,” (not “My Father” or “Memories of my Father.” People disagreed and advanced various theories. But everyone agreed that this was one of the most extraordinary films of the Festival. And, for me, it was the best. Unusual, vibrant, full of extravagant background detail and yet impressionistic, and with some of the best performances by extras I have ever seen. It’s a film that makes you want to see whatever this young director does next.

Q&A with director Akinola Davies Jr.

Q: Tell us about the boys (actors)?

A:  The actor father took on the role of the father for his acting sons. The older boy is a better technical actor – he picked that up very quickly. The other one was just a little boy who wanted to play (Godwin).

Q Precise shots were combined with depth of field?

A: I wanted to be an editor initially, so I was pretty precise. And this is the cinematographer’s first feature as well. But I shot a lot of still shots to pick out the Lagos shots.

Q: Which brother are you? Please talk about how the cast and crew took your ideas and help to put them on the screen.

A: I am very collaborative. I leaned on my producers a lot. There were a lot of women in the crew who looked after the children. I have worked in every role of my crew and so I am protective of them.

I am the younger brother - the mother’s boy.

Q: The danger of Nigeria. I was going to Lagos as a tourist, but I got a warning from the government not to go and instead I went to Ghana. Can white people go to Lagos and not be killed?

A: I’ve shot commercials in Lagos before, and agencies always tell people not to come that it’s not safe. But every country has places that are not safe. People in Lagos are warm and welcoming. When you embrace people for who they are, they are a bit more welcoming and let you in. We’ve had very few incidents anywhere in Nigeria. I encourage everyone to go!

Q: You shot on film – what are the challenges?

A: It is super hard to negotiate shooting on film. This is a period film set in 1993. Film makes it more textured and “period.” The logistics were quite intense. We were covering the film on courier airing the film on DHL But it was cheaper and better to send “mules” to England and back. The camera broke in the first couple of days. I love digital, but it gives you the opportunity to nitpick mistakes. So, film was a good discipline. We had to find what we wanted and what we had shot.

Q: How old were you in 1993? And what was the funeral costume at the end and the traditional fabric?

A: I was the same age as the younger brother in 1993 – 8. Most of the politics is based on memory. I remember everyone being excited about the idea of democracy.

The fabric is Adiré, and specific to Nigeria. Dying is done in the north which is famed for indigo dying. Blue is a colour tribally, but also in the textile industry. This was all researched!

Orwell: 2+2=5

France, USA. Dir: Raoul Peck     8/10

These days to say something is “Orwellian” is a commonplace. Everything seems to be Orwellian. Everything nefarious in modern politics seems to have been predicted by Orwell. And yet, how many people have actually read Orwell? Not everyone who is quoting him, that’s for sure! So this film is important, and timely, since it tries to paint a picture of Orwell the man, Orwell the writer, and Orwell the prognosticator.

Orwell: 2+2=5 also illustrates its points, in 4 main ways. First, it uses Damian Lewis’s voice to bring us Orwell’s voice. Next, it recreates some scenes from his life, in live-action footage. Then, it illustrates some political points by means of live action footage. And, finally, it shows pertinent scenes from the many films made of his various books, particularly 1984, but also Animal Farm, and from other relevant films. Here follows an incomplete list, in the order they appear in the film (some are repeated throughout the film).

1984 (1956, dir: Michael Anderson), with Edmond O’Brien and Michael Redgrave.

1984 (1954, dir: Rudolph Cartier), a BBCTV adaptation.

Oliver Twist (1948, dir: David Lean).

1984 (1953, dir: Paul Nickel), with Loren Green and Eddie Albert, a TV adaptiation for the US series Studio One.

The Road to 1984 (1984, dir: David Wheatley).

Babi Yar (1946 documentary footage of Soviet hangings in Babi Yar, Ukraine).

1984 (1984, dir: Michael Radford), with John Hurt and Richard Burton.

Fahrenheit 451 (1966, dir: François Truffaut).

Land and Freedom (1995, dir: Ken Loach).

My Way Home (1978, dir: Bill Douglas).

The Frost Report (1966-67, dir: James Gilbert), a British TV comedy show featuring David Frost, John Cleese, Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett. The clip was one of the famous “Upper class, middle class and lower class” routines.

Riff-Raff (1991, dir: Ken Loach).

1984 Voices in a City (1984, dir: Ted Clisby), a documentary episode in the UK TV series Forty Minutes.

Animal Farm (1954, dir: Joy Batchelor & John Halas). Animated feature.

I, Daniel Blake (2016, dir: Ken Loach).

Orwell Rolls in his Grave (2003, dir: Robert Kane Pappas). A documentary about US media and democracy.

Generation Wealth (2018, dir: Lauren Greenfield). US documentary.

Minority Report (2002, dir: Steven Spielberg ).

The World of George Orwell: Coming Up for Air (1965, dir: Christopher Morahan). A UK TV episode from the series Theatre 625 (1964-68).

Brazil (1985, dir: Terry Gilliam).

Morning in the Streets (1959, dir: Roy Harris & Denis Mitchell). US documentary.

The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928, dir: Carl Theodore Dreyer).

Post-Truth Times (2017, dir: Héctor Carrée). A US documentary about the US media.

American Factory (2019, dir: Steven Bognor & Julia Reichert). A US documentary about a Chinese-financed factory in Ohio.

Our Daily Bread (1934, dir: King Vidor).

War of the Worlds (2005, dir: Steven Spielberg).

Port-au-Prince (documentary footage of rioting from 2022 & 2024).

The need to see all those films that you haven’t seen is apparent!

Generally, I found this documentary fascinating, revelatory, intelligent and well-researched. It reinforces (if it needed reinforcing) how much of the future we are living now that Orwell foresaw. It does not at all address recent claims that Orwell may have appropriated some of his first wife’s work, particularly with respect to Animal Farm. I don’t see this as a deficiency, as those claims have been challenged – and that would have been another movie.

But towards its end, the film moved from the expository towards the declaratory. At one point it offered “equivalent” words to some of the political and other loaded phrases that are bandied about these days. One of them (unfortunately my notes don’t record which) was translated as “legalized tax evasion,” which is inaccurate in my view. A couple of others were also inaccurately translated. It’s a shame, because there are so many phrases that could have been accurately translated to make the point.

Overall, though, this is a fascinating and informative documentary hitch reinforces the importance of Orwell’s words for our times.

Sorry Baby

USA. Dir: Eva Victor.      IN COMPETITION.     7/10

Sorry Baby is structured in 3 non-linear chapters, which always poses the question: why? Is this structure necessary to add extra suspense, so that we are puzzling over what the problem is until it is at lea revealed? Is there any other reason the story is told non-linearly?

Here, I think, we are shown a person acting quite strangely, and we think she’s just quirky, until we find out what her secret is. Does this mean all is explained? I’m not quote convinced. Our main character, Agnes (Eva Victor, also directing and writing), is hard to read.

The first chapter was for me almost off-putting. I didn’t like the acting style and I wondered if that was it, or if it was just that all the people in the first few scenes were just awful people. I wondered why they were all together at dinner, years after graduating? Did they continue to hang out together every though they didn’t really all like each other? What is this strange dynamic? And why is Lydie clearly English, but stuck in this odd academic backwater? That was Chapter 1: “The Year with the Baby.”

Chapter 2: “The Year with the Bad Thing,” seems to go backward in time. There’s a protracted discussion about Ted Hughes and suicide, and academic discussion reconvenes to the academic supervisor’s (Preston’s) home. Things happen that we aren’t allowed to see, but they become clearer later, though muddled by the statements Agnes makes, seemingly rationalising what turns out to be (allegedly) a rape. There’s a strange set of scenes where the doctor and the academic panel are shown having ludicrous reactions to this alleged rape. I found it trivialising: not by the characters but by the writer/ director.

Chapter 3: “The Year with the Questions,” begins with Agnes being called to jury duty on a completely unrelated case. Is this bringing us up-to-date? The process is portrayed, once again, in a flippant way. It’s unrealistic: for example, the prosecuting attorney teaches the jury aspects of the law. That could never happen. At this point, I was beginning to despair that the film would never strike a true note. Finally, something Agnes said explained her strange attitudes and reactions. Of her accused rapist, when asked why she wasn’t prosecuting him, she says: “I want him to be someone who stops doing that. But if he went to jail, he’d just be someone who does that who went to jail.” She has a motive, even if she still can’t use the word “rape.” It’s a motive that is likely to be common among rape victims. It’s all such a complex matrix of motives and emotions.

From here things begin to resolve themselves. In a dreadful irony, Agnes is assigned the university office of her alleged rapist (who has slunk away into the night). It is revealed that he had a track record. And Agnes meets, by chance, a stranger who helps her. This is the truest scene in the whole film, and beautifully done. The stranger is played by John Carroll Lynch, with touching sincerity. Truth, at last.

I’m being harsh, here, because I was not touched by this film until that moment. And I think the problem lies with the lack of balance that sometimes comes when one acts, write and directs. I felt some editing, some leavening, was needed to make this film truly memorable. But as it is, it is certainly sufficient to keep you thinking long after you leave the theatre.

To return to the question I posed at the start, it seems the non-linear structure is designed to help us focus on the process of Agnes’s protracted reconstruction of herself after the rape. And to that extent it works, but it also holds us at a distance from her. So we focus on Agnes’s oddness, which – in my case at least – blocked my understanding of that very process.

Tokito: The 540-day Journey of a Culinary Maverick

Japan. Dir: Aki Mizutani.                7/10

Intro by a SFF representative (perhaps Amanda Maple-Brown), the film’s Australian cinematographer, Matt de Souza, and the film’s subject, chef Yoshinori Ishii.

Matt de Souza: We made the film to introduce Japanese character, nature etc. But it turned out that it was about humanity.

Q: How did you come to film it?

A: The producer asked me to come on an adventure. We started in Hokkaido on a boat for 12 hours at 15° [presumably Fahrenheit].

Q When did it premiere?

A: Chef Ishii: October, I think, in the USA. It was at Palm Springs. I couldn’t attend but I’m happy to be here with you.

Q. (SFF head programmer, Justin Martyniuk, arriving late): What were the highs and lows for you?

A: Chef Ishii: The best part was how many fish I caught. You will see something happened to me, but everything became positive even though I stopped working. Also, lots of friends came to Tokyo to say hello to me. All by chance. After 20 years of being outside Japan. Also, Matt explained what he’s done. We went fishing together – it was 15°. You will see what happens afterwards.

Chef Ishii explained he would be around after the film and at the hub.

At a small hub town, one hour west of Tokyo, in Tachikawa, Michelin-starred Chef Ishii decides to build a restaurant from scratch. He also wants to build an auberge on the site. He had returned from working for many years in Umu restaurant, London, and before that, he worked 9 years at Kyoto Kitcho, one of Japan’s most awarded restaurants in Kyoto (3 Michelin stars). He wants to make meals with ignored, cold-water fish from the sea of Oshkosh. He is also a potter and it appears that making the plates for his London restaurant got Umu a second Michelin star. At Umu, he also taught London chefs how to handle fish.

Chef Ishii has several chefs who collaborate with him. One says, of Auberge Tokito: “We want to make Japanese cuisine that never actually existed.” To this end, Chef Ishii seeks out exquisite produce from all over Japan, which also needs to be sustainable. He visits various places, all of which seem to be situated in exquisite landscapes: including a farm that has existed for 400 years, and a wasabi plantation in the middle of nowhere. 

“Tokito” has two meanings: “time” and it can refer to the crested Ibis. Colours are called “toki” colours after the Ibis. He also visits the Izu peninsula, and they hunt boar. As if this it weren't enough, he decides to make bowls out of the trees that used to grow on the grounds of his new restaurant.

But then, tragedy strikes, and Ishii is distracted from the restaurant. His staff continue bravely, and eventually Ishii returns. There’s even more stress and anxiety, even from the usually calm chefs. But on 6 April 2023 the restaurant opens stop it looks magnificent will stop I resolved to visit it.

A young head chef sums it up: “I want people to visit Japan just to eat at Tokito.” As a film it looks beautiful, and the story is very well-told, unfolding gradually but in a deliberate way. If anything, it is understated.

After the screening, I managed to speak with chef Ishii and, speaking in Japanese, I congratulated him on both the film and his accomplishments with the restaurant. He was delighted and duly invited me and my husband to dine at his restaurant next time we are in Tokyo. We will do so!

Saturday 14 June

The Blue Trail

Brazil, Mexico, Netherlands, Chile. Dir: Gabriel Mascaro, Tibério Azul.        IN COMPETITION.                                                 8/10

Intro: Director Gabriel Lascara tells us this is the first screening outside Brazil, and there will be a Q&A afterwards.

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The Blue Trail has a very interesting production design and particularly it sound design stands out for its originality. I also immediately noticed the 4 to 3 Academy ratio in which the film was shot. This seems counterintuitive: this is a film about the longest river in the world. So it’s an interesting choice. Perhaps the director was keen to emphasise that this is not your regular travelogue.

We are soon plunged into a dystopian future for Brazil, with the government ironically announcing: “The future is for everyone.” “Since when was getting older an honour?” our heroine asks. Indeed! She works in a factory processing alligators. The Brazilian government seems to take away old people in what our heroine calls a “Wrinkle Wagon.”

This film begins to look like either Brazil (1984, Gilliam) or 1984 (George Orwell’s book). Certainly, the slogans of the government recall George Orwell (see Orwell: 2+2 = 5, reviewed earlier in for this SFF). There are snitches, too, and when Teresa is forced to retire she is told: “The government wishes you to rest.” Even in restaurants they ask for ID. It happened there. It could happen here!

The government says family values are a priority – but they separate a boy from his grandfather. All our heroine wants is to take a flight before she is put away, but she has to go through a tremendous amount to get her wish.

This is really a road movie on the Amazon River. I guess now that our heroine has nothing to lose – she’s going to a place from which there is no return – she may as well try everything. The whole idea is very disturbing, but also liberating. The Q&A is very illuminating on this point.

The Blue Trail is an interesting film, intriguing and beautiful to look at, but I don’t believe it will win the Sydney Film Prize for audacious, cutting-edge cinema. It may, however, become a cult favourite in retirement villages!

Q&A:

Q: (Festival representative): I love the Amazon River, represented by the snail trail. What was the inspiration for the film?

A: I’m interested in the ambivalent Amazon. This is a dystopian movie but not with flying cars. I’m more interested in the change in behaviour of society. So the ambivalent Amazon captures and processes alligators, but it is also powerful. The tiny snail is like an allegory. The movie is dystopian but there is lots of affection for the characters who are elderly. I rejected widescreen in favour of 4:3 squared format.

Q I love the boats. Did you find or buy the boat? Did you use drones to film the other boats. Did the boat captain find his wife?

A: We used a lot of boats. We had five production boats. We are playing with reality. The soundtrack invites the audience to share in playfulness. It was very complicated with the boats, but interesting to work with people from the north. Many actors were from Amazonia.

Q: (audience): Did you ever have to line up the boats and then have to re-shoot?

A: Yes, there were lots of takes. It was hard to communicate between two boats. We had to physically signal. We also learned a lot from the amazing characters – actresses of that age are quite rarely seen in movies about that age.

The film took 10 years to write. Most movies about the elderly are about death. I tried to do the opposite and write about bodies pulsating in the present.

Q: How many days of shooting, pre-and post-production? How many people in the crew and how many days shooting?

A: 10 years writing, six weeks shooting, almost 3 years editing, two days travelling to Australia.

It was not an easy movie to make in Brazil under Bolsonaro. He shut down the ministry of culture, but now we’ve gone back to normal where the government is proud of its artists.

Q: Why did you choose the epiphany moment to be success in gambling?

A: The movie plays with the idea that the government forces the elderly to rest. The main character has only one dream – to fly in an aeroplane, but she then flies higher than ever she thought. She transforms from someone who wouldn’t gamble to one who would gamble everything – and has beginners’ luck.

It Was Just an Accident

Iran, France, Luxembourg. Dir: Jafar Panahi.    IN COMPETITION.  9/10

Intro by Nishen Moodley:

“This film won the Palme d’Or at Cannes. It’s the 10th film in competition for the Sydney Film Prize. Its director is Jafar Panahi. He is a beacon of artistic expression, and freedom under repression. This is a really striking thriller with a moral centre. We are the first audience after the Cannes audience to see the film.

Panahi is not well today, and, given recent events [the USA’s bombing of Iran was overnight], he could not be here, given also the need to be in constant contact with his family and friends.”

This film went on the win the Sydney Film Prize, and it was no surprise. It’s great film by a great director, and I really liked it, but it wasn’t my favourite film of the Festival. I knew it would win the Sydney Film Prize, though, because that normally goes to a politically edgy film.

It Was Just an Accident starts with a camera focused on a couple in the front seat of a car. So many Iranian films begin this way. They hit a dog and the mother says that God surely put it in their path for a reason. Their little daughter disagrees. Then the car breaks down, and the mother says this is “another sign.” A man passing on a motorbike says he could try to repair it. They go to a garage but the things there are very suspicious. The man on the motorbike, a mechanic, Vahid, begins acting strangely. It turns out he recognises the motorist as Eghbal, “the peg leg,” a shadowy figure from the past. Or is he?

Vahid begins to stalk Eghbal and other characters get involved as well, all of whom are trying to work out if this really is Eghbal and if it is, what they should do about it. The tension ratchets up, but so do the laughs. There are many incongruous scenes which either terrify you or make you laugh uproariously. But there’s also the balancing and rebalancing of moral questions, to keep you ethically challenged. The film constantly asks the question: is it OK to use the same techniques of torture on your torturer? It’s the sort of ethical question I love to see posed in a fictional setting.

But this film is also a pitch-perfect thriller, of Hitchcockian proportions. And it has one of the creepiest endings you’ll see. Of course, you must see it.

Prime Minister

USA. Dir: Lindsay Utz, Michelle Walshe.                              8/10

Intro by SFF international documentary programmer, Paul Struthers, with co-Director, Michelle Walshe (Australian) and cinematographer Leon Kirkbeck (NZ). Together they are a couple:

This film won the audience award at Sundance. It launches in US cinemas today! Liam built up trust and access with Jacinda Ardern over many years.

Liam: I apologise for stealing away an Aussie storyteller – Michelle. Michelle and I started the company together, just the two of us. We have passed our dream. Filmmaking is privileged from an experience point of view – but not financially. So, thanks to Jacinda and Clarke [Clarke Gayford, Jacinda’s husband] for the experience. Thanks to Michele and producer Cass Avery for the work that you did pulling us together.

Michelle: the film is not always a comfortable watch, but I hope whatever your political views, you can take away what leadership can look like when it is paired with empathy.

This documentary film gets 100% for access to its subject. It combines News footage with footage shot by the filmmakers, plus amazing footage shot by Ardern’s husband, Clarke Gayford, and made available to the filmmakers by the couple. In addition, an amazing trove of archival material suddenly presented itself to the filmmakers. So this film is – on the surface at least – very comprehensive.

At just 37 years of age and pregnant, Ardern became New Zealand’s 40th Prime Minister, and she brought with her a completely fresh approach to politics. The film illustrates this at the start. It opens at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where Ardern is speaking. She says: “We want the world to be simple again. Part of that oversimplification is that we look at the world in binary terms: good, bad, right...”

It is striking, watching this film, how many difficult things happened during Ardern’s time as PM. And I’m not talking about her pregnancy (she’s the 2nd world leader to give birth while in office: India’s Benazir Bhutto was the 1st) and the difficulty she had breastfeeding (though how frank she is about all that!). I’m referring to the Christchurch Mosque shooting on 15 March 2019, the volcano eruption in December 2019, then the Covid pandemic. And I had not seen the rather terrifying footage of the backlash against the Covid restrictions in NZ and the crowds camping in the Wellington Parliamentary precinct who then misbehave and trash the place. It was very confronting for New Zealanders, as this film shows.

Through it all we see her coping in the office (she can be a little passive-aggressive!) and at home, with very intimate footage. All this is expertly assembled into a very interesting behind-the-scenes view of leadership. By 2023, she reveals she was not feeling well and not sleeping – no wonder she resigned. She must have been exhausted. The filmmakers do not really probe this, and her early life is also skipped through, so the detail we see in this film is mainly of her time as PM. And fair enough, too, as it accords with the film’s title. But by the end of this seemingly-comprehensive film, I felt that I still only knew Ardern in a superficial way.

There’s no doubt that film veers towards the hagiography: there’s not much critical material here. Ardern’s autobiography, Jacinda Arden: A Different Kind of Power came out in June 2025, so the timing of a film like this is perfect for her. But those criticisms do not make the film less than interesting. It is actually fascinating to revisit the near past and realise how much one has forgotten and how much was missed.

Q&A with Paul Struthers, Michelle Walshe and Leon Kirkbeck:

Leon: Access was very important. We had access to Clarke Gayford, but we didn’t know about the archival diary interviews. Jacinda thought they would all be released only when she died. And then they used them. Also, there were more archive under Casey's control in the US and elsewhere. And so we were lucky to have a child growing up to anchor the timeline.

Q: How did you go having a US team in LA?

A: This was an opportunity too – it was a global film, and they gave us that. We had Michelle in LA it during the fires, trying to get the film to Sundance.

Q: To Liam: the intimate scenes with Jacinda?

A: It was hard to stay in focus! I was lucky to become friends with her very early on, before she was even in Parliament. I could then disappear into the background – often having to call the director for instructions on things that came up. Clarke's footage was crucial, too. His footage really brought the intimacy.

Q: Audience: While making film, did you talk to Jacinda‘s parents? There’s stuff in the film about them and Shackleton, or did you cut it out?

A: Yes, we did have access and Clarke also interviewed them, but when you start interviewing other people, where do you stop? We tried to bring in her values by referring to Shackleton. It was a difficult decision to make.

A: The story Jacinda‘s mother told the director was interesting. 

Q: Did you ask Clarke to do the film, or did he just do it?

A: Jacinda knew the value of Clarke filming, but it drove her mad at times. Clarke was used to TV and filming, and he leaned into the job.

Q: How did you feel, seeing all the things to be proud of and those to be ashamed of? Things [done] that weren’t like the Kiwis?

A: There’s a lot that’s tough, but to be true to her experience and truth we felt we had to take you there. The protests feel very extreme – and it was.

Q: There was a 14-hour cut. How did preproduction differ from fiction?

A: We didn’t have a script! Editors have a huge responsibility here because they know all the footage and they can shape the story. We could have made a film about one of the many issues (e.g. Covid was so big initially). You must let the film show itself.

A: The co-director, Lindsay Utz, is an Academy Award-winning editor, so she had a great expertise. It took a year to cut.

Q: When did you start? And how did you respond?

A: Liam: You see her integrity as a world leader, and we were generally capturing moments for them as a family, especially knowing that Neve was growing up and we wanted to capture what her parents went through. Then we realised we had an amazing story to tell. It has a huge passion to encourage female leadership and to inspire the next leaders.

Q: One of you said that the Californian production team brought a different perspective…?

A: We often read things about a political leader through a New Zealand humble lens. The US production people had never seen anything like Jacinda Ardern. To Americans, it was extraordinary. The heavy lifting, the personal response to Christchurch, and they just wanted to keep every bit of it.

The Love That Remains                                                      7/10

Iceland, Sweden, Denmark, France

Intro with lead actor Sverrir Gudnason, who will stay for the Q&A at the end:

This film comes to the SFF straight from Cannes.

It is clear from the first scene that this film is not going to be naturalistic: a roof is lifted straight off a house, and throughout the film we peer through the roof area, metaphorically, at a family going through the upheaval of a marriage split. Early on we are sent a tonal message for the fully when a character says: “Life is nothing but a f*****g hassle, but the animals bring us joy.” This is not going to be a feel-good experience to end my SFF viewing.

The director, Hylnur Palmason, is a polymath working in the visual arts. We will learn in the Q&A that many of the artworks we see in the film are his: one character, the wife, Anna (Saga Garoarsdottir) is also a visual artist. We also see lots of beautiful photography of Iceland, bit the land and sea: the husband works on a fishing ship and is away often, which may explain in part the marriage split. These sections are mostly naturalistic, including the family enjoying a lovely lyrical day out hiking.

But there are also notable fantasy sequences. I mentioned the lifting roof. There are also sequences where we see a clip from The Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954, Arnold; there’s another in which a half-finished artwork comes to life; and then the husband, lead actor Sverrir Gudnason (Magnus), fights a giant rooster in a dream!

Then again, there are. Some very funny scenes, including one in which an art dealer takes advantage of Anna’s good nature, hospitality and need to please, and leads her on only to leave her in the lurch. This is followed by what must/might be a wish-fulfillment sequence. It’s funny! There’s also an accident sequence with the kids that is extra-funny because it is so inevitable.

The children are excellent, and they are in fact the children of the director, so I assume they are relaxed and used to life on and around a film set.

This is an unusual and inventive film, but not an entirely satisfying one.

Q&A with lead actor Sverrir Gudnason:

Q: How was it working with the director’s kids with you as a film father?

A: We’ve been doing it for years in short films and the director lets them use their own dialogue.

Q Was “Panda” a professional? [Panda was the family dog in the film].

A: She is probably the best actor I’ve ever worked with. She’s a star. And now she doesn’t talk to us!

Q: How was it shooting the scenes?

A: We worked with professional fishermen and fished with them, catching 800 tons of herring. We were nine hours from the coast of Iceland. It was very exciting and I really felt alive.

Q: How much was scripted versus improv? It all felt very natural.

A: it was mostly scripted. Often with the kids we would not rehearse too much and wing it.

Q: This was a good manifestation of male loneliness. How was the physical exertion and how did you get through it?

A: I just jumped off the ship and floated. It was easy. But it was cold.

Q: What was the wooden thing in the film?

A: This is really for the director and writer. But in the script it is called “the scarecrow” or “Joan of Arc.”

Q: The scene with the Swedish gallerist and the artist: is it a joke between Sweden and Iceland?

A: Yes, definitely. I am Icelandic but I live in Sweden. The Icelanders team up with the Danish and the Norwegian and go drinking and the Swedes are left behind.

Q: How did you do the catching of the [live] rooster?

A: This is the director‘s hometown world and rooster. I didn’t manage to catch it [over and over again].

Q: What was the hardest thing to do? Which scene did you enjoy the most?

A: I enjoyed the long walks with the family, walking for 12 hours straight. Also being on the ship gave me a lot of energy. My family were all fishermen. I was afraid of getting seasick, but I kind of like the routine of fishing.

Q: Dreams and nightmares: the chicken that attacked you and the face-to-face with the knight in shining armour – but you couldn’t connect with the wife.

A: For Magnus, he’s lost contact with the family. He’s away too much, but he doesn’t belong anywhere. At home or on the ship. Fatherhood is hard. The kids are changing. His dream sequences indicate his anxiety about being a man.

Q: The seasons passing and the timeframe of the project?

A: The director, Hylnur Palmason, often works with time. The artwork is also made with time, rusting over winter. He even makes a box that contains the camera. I was in Iceland for eight weeks and he was… [always making something].

Q: The creative impulse for the artwork in the film?

A: It is the director’s artwork. He is also an artist. He’s fantastic.

Q Does the floating [at the end] mean death?

A: it is a tricky situation. I wish to believe he’s still floating. The last time I saw him he was….