Sydney-based Wellingtonian BRYN TILLY reviews a film set in his home town, and sheds only tears of amusement, not sentimentality in the process…

The ebb and flow of attraction, the mysterious allure of love’s carnal duplicity, the fragility of domestic bliss and happy families, the longevity of friendship and the basic need for a soul mate.

These are the issues and themes prevalent in the new feature from New Zealand director Paul Middleditch.

From a screenplay by renowned Kiwi political cartoonist Tom Scott, who penned the searing, blackly comic one-man play The Daylight Atheist (of which the original production starred by papa), comes a portrait of Wellington, the windy capital of New Zealand, and a clutch of thirty-somethings dealing with the trials and tribulations of marriage, relationships, and infidelity.

This is a genuinely funny movie, and I was pleasantly surprised, as in all honesty, I don’t find many New Zealand comedies particularly humorous.

There are many pearler lines of dialogue and some very astute characterizations within this network of families, friends, and work colleagues.

The main story thread follows ex-pat Aussie Simon (Joel Edgerton) and his affair with ex-pat Brit Katrien (the utterly gorgeous Rhona Mitra). Simon is married to Pam (Danielle McCormack), whilst Katrien is married to Klaus (Thomas Kretschmann).

There’s Simon’s best friend Harry (Les Hill), another ex-pat Ocker, and their boss Archie (Alan Lovell) and receptionist Julie (Michelle Langstone). Then there’s the family friends; Joanne (Jodie Rimmer), Keith (Phil Brown), and Pip (Stephanie Paul), and Tem (Grant Roa).

All the performances are solid, although Joel Edgerton doesn’t command nearly the same kind of charisma and screen presence as Rhona Mitra, and one never really feels a genuine on-screen chemistry between them.

Stand-out role is Alan Lovell’s hilarious take as the chauvinistic, bourbon-swelling, clueless boss.

Wellington city has never looked so inviting! Director Middleditch and his location manager have gone out of their way to set exterior scenes in some of the city’s most beautiful vantage points.

There’s only one scene that exhibits the city’s truly steady climate, the wind and rain. I’m being harsh of course, but in an affectionately teasing way.

As an amusing contrast, the same scene has the characters holding umbrellas. No one has umbrellas in Wellington. The wind won’t let you use one successfully.

The amusing aside is the scene set in the backyard property that features a large pool.

A pool in Wellington, you’ve gotta be kidding me! Apparently location manager scoured Google Earth over Wellington to find such a rare installation. Someone with a money to blow, and not much sense, indulged, and it serves the movie (and Wellington) rather nicely.

Separation City provides some wonderfully wry insights into the machinations of men and women in the throes of a Love Crisis.

Supposedly the working title of the script, first written more than twenty years ago, was titled The Truth About Men. Yes, well, each to their own Tom Scott.

Later on it became Happy Families, a title I much prefer over the ill-concieved title of Separation City, which makes the movie sound like some kind of dystopian science fiction flick. Actually, from the last few lines of dialogue, a musing from Simon as he lies in bed with his wife, I conjured a more witty and appropriate title: Tide of Love, one that plays with the vernacular and the phonetics, and yet knocks the nail on the head.

But hey, that’s just my two cents.

Forget the light drama drivel of Valentine’s Day, the bittersweet battleground of love and lust hasn’t been as funny or unassumingly attractive as in Separation City.

Film reviewer Bryn Tilly is also a very active Sydney DJ, scriptwriter and composer – and writes the blogs Horrorphile and Bruno Dante’s Cult Projections. Busy bloke that he is – it’s called having a passion for life.

Ideas as parasites and the architecture of the mind as the scene of corporate crime, where the infiltration of dream layers is a labyrinthine gauntlet of projections and deceptions, and the fabric of reality becomes as fragile as footsteps in the surf of time. Christopher Nolan’s Inception is one of the truly great science fiction movies of all time.

The less said about the plot the better (and easier). Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio), is a skilled thief working at an unprecedented level of control; Extraction (stealing an idea from a dream), which involves a high calibre team; Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), his right-hand man, Ariadne (Ellen Page), his dream architect, Eames (Tom Hardy), a forger (imitator), and Yusef (Dileep Rao), a chemist (specialising in sedatives). Their job is Inception: planting an idea in someone’s mind via dream(s).

Their client is Saito (Ken Watanabe), a powerful business player, who wants to manipulate Robert Fischer Jr (Cillian Murphy), the heir to a dying multi-billion dollar oil company tycoon (Pete Postlethwaite), by planting the idea of splitting the soon-to-be inherited company up, so the wealth won’t be controlled by Fischer alone. In return – and this is Cobb’s primary incentive – Saito’s immense political power will ensure Cobb can return to America to see his children again, since Cobb is currently a fugitive accused of his wife Mal (Marion Cotillard)’s murder.

But everything is far from simple. And Murphy’s Law can penetrate the fabric of dreams; in this case Cobb’s subconscious, his memories, his past relationship with his wife, and the love they shared.

Brilliantly writer/director Nolan has concocted the most elaborate narrative structure, primarily an action-movie, but disguised as a spy-thriller, masquerading as a science fiction neo-noir, that works as a dream-nightmare. Yet it is essentially a story of love and betrayal, memory and desire. It works so well on so many levels it is breath-taking as a piece of cinema. It took Nolan eight years to write the screenplay.

The production values are astonishing; I’ve not seen visual effects so extraordinarily integrated into the live action, where one can’t tell where the CGI ends and the real effects begin. The gorgeous dark-hues of the cinematography from Wally Pfister (who has shot all of Nolan’s movies) provide the movie with its significant noir feel. The production design (by Guy Dyas) is immaculate, right down to the superb costuming (a very impressive array of men’s suits is constantly on parade courtesy of Jeffrey Kurland). The incredible choreography of the chase sequences, enhanced by the frenetic editing and Hans Zimmer score. Although Nolan’s screenplay is a towering achievement, his direction and the editing (from Lee Smith) are consummate. And the cast is pitch perfect.

It’s easy to gush over Inception. It demands to be seen. However I’m in two minds about seeing it a second time (of course I will). There is something magical about the first experience, especially since I chose not to read any reviews or watch any trailers prior to the screening. I knew very little about the movie, apart from that it was by Nolan, of whom I’m a huge fan, and that it dealt with the perception of reality (I had no idea how significantly it employed the fabric of the dream state). I know a second (and third) viewing will still be hugely enjoyable, but I also can appreciate that the wonder and mystery (two very important elements of Inception) will be dampened, cracks may very well appear, and the mechanics of the filmmaking and storytelling will penetrate the illusion of the cine-dream.

But hey . it’s only a movie. An illusion. And therein lies the magic of Nolan’s prestige.ntertaining escapade.

Film reviewer Bryn Tilly is also a very active Sydney DJ, scriptwriter and composer – and writes the blogs Horrorphile and Bruno Dante’s Cult Projections.To see reviews of what Bryn Tilly regards as the best movies of 2009 click here. To have a laugh and enjoy Bruno Dante’s article on the best ever sex scenes in mainstream cinema and independent movies click here. To go one step beyond and check out Bryn’s world famous article (it gets over 100,000 viewers per month) on ACTUAL sex performed in mainstream (as in non-porn) cinema / movies click here.

BRYN TILLY reviews his choice as the best 2010 movie release …

Lucien Ginsburg was born the son of Jewish parents, in Paris, France, in 1928, but is best known to the world as the egocentric avant-pop-maestro and agent provocateur Serge Gainsbourg from the late 50s through the 60s and 70s.

And in French graphic novelist, screenwriter and director Joann Sfar’s excellent biopic Gainsbourg actor Eric Elmosnino embraces the celebrated and controversial songwriter and delivers him to perfection.

From his days learning piano from his father and skirting down back cobble-stoned alleys whilst Nazi troops marched by Serge sought attention and mischief. He created an alter-ego, Ugly Face, played on-screen to brilliant effect by Doug Jones, under an elaborate mask that is grotesquely striking, whom would rear his head in and out of Serge’s misadventures, conquests and dilemmas. Ugly Face provided him with both the inspiration and the provocation, the humiliation and the confrontation that would earn him the accolades and the heartache, the fame, glamour and trouble.

Director Joann Sfar has fashioned a wry and playful portrait of Gainsbourg that never wallows, but shows the man as a truly fallible human being, eager to please, loathe to conform, never suffering fools gladly, but always an opportunist, smoking Gitane cigarettes like they’re going out of vogue, and bedding some of the most beautiful and sensual women ever to grace the streets of the City of Lights. Whilst married to highly jealous and suspicious Elizabeth (Deborah Grall) he had a fleeting affair with the elusive and wealthy Juliette Gréco (Anna Mouglalis). Later he flirted and courted Bridget Bardot (Laetitia Casta), wrote her songs, and fell head over heels, but the romance was short-lived.

After two divorces he met the much younger Jane Birkin, an English singer and actress (the late Lucy Gordon) living in Paris. Together they had two children, one of whom is Charlotte Gainsbourg the actress. His last partner was Caroline von Paulus, who went under the stage name of Bambou whom he met at a nightclub when she was 21 and he was 52. She resisted his charms at first, but soon enough fell under his womanising spell. She was with him until his death in 1991.

The movie Gainsbourg doesn’t delve into Serge’s twilight years, preferring instead to fade on images of him still high on life, in a limousine with Bambou, being driven along a beach, having lived a life full of the kinds of highs and lows, most of us can only dream of. But his hard drinking, chain-smoking, and perpetual late nights caught up with him and he was forced to have liver surgery and recuperate. Of course his alter ego would have none of this convalescence.

What makes Gainsbourg so entertaining is the fast pace, the surreal sequences, the superb performances, the tongue-in-cheek tone, and the cult of personality that was Serge Gainsbourg. He may not have looked like the matinee idol he exuded through his sultry, alluring pop songs, but he got his leg over time and time again, much to the frustration and exasperation of those around him.

If you’re a music lover, a Francophile, a pop culture freak, a hedonist, perhaps even a cartoonist, you must see Gainsbourg, it is essential viewing as contrast to this current climate of manufactured bubblegum pop, fabricated fame, and fake plastic beauty. Gainsbourg is the antidote that whispers “I love you . I don’t either,” in your ear, giggles, then pops the champagne, whilst firing up another Gitane.

Film reviewer Bryn Tilly is also a Sydney DJ, scriptwriter and composer – and writes the blogs Horrorphile and Bruno Dante’s Cult Projections.To see reviews of what Bryn Tilly regards as the best movies of 2009 click here. To have a laugh and enjoy Bruno Dante’s article on the best ever sex scenes in mainstream cinema and independent movies click here. To go one step beyond and check out Bryn’s world famous article (it gets over 100,000 viewers per month) on ACTUAL sex performed in mainstream (as in non-porn) cinema / movies click here.

BRYN TILLY reviews his choice as Best 2009 movie release…

I’ll be the first to admit I’m a bit of a SF geek, so there’s plenty to relish. I very much enjoyed the nu-Star Trek movie, the re-booting, as they call it. But I can’t really compare, because District 9 is so unequivocally original, whereas Star Trek, well, most people know the basic elements of that movie like the back of their hands, even if they’re not Trekkies …

The name Peter Jackson carries the same kind of kudos as the name Quentin Tarantino. The inclusion of it on a movie can make or break it. In the case of Tarantino, it doesn’t necessarily mean the movie will be any good, for example the recent biker flick, Hellride, which Tarantino produced was a piece of crap. But Peter Jackson has yet to put a foot wrong.

District 9, the feature debut of South African ex-pat (lives and works in Canada) Neill Blomkamp, is produced by Jackson and his New Zealand-based company Wingnut Films, however the 2009 movie is set and was shot in Blomkamp’s old stomping ground of Johannesburg, or as it’s more commonly called: Joburg.

This is a contemporary science fiction action flick with an emphasis on hardware and squalor, on socio-politics and corporate corruption. This is the extraterrestrial flick for those who won’t be choosing to see Aliens in the Attic, if you get my drift. Check your sensibilities at the door, District 9 spits expletives and blows chunks hard and fast; this is a hardcore action flick that takes no prisoners.

An alien mothership has been left derelict floating above Johannesberg for the last thirty years. It’s original occupants were discovered as helpless malnourished humanoid crustaceans, or “prawns” as the derogatory xenophobic term is coined by racist humans. A large-scale housing project is erected, a compound known as District 9, and the aliens are forced to dwell in a segregated co-existence with humans.

A private corporation, Multi-National United, is keen to evict the aliens, and re-locate them out of the city. Field operative Wikus (Sharlto Copley) is supervising the transition, but he gets a lot more than he bargained for when he discovers the secret agenda of the MNU which involves the alien’s biotechnological weaponry. Basically all hell breaks loose.

This is the best science fiction in 2009 movie ever released for this year, and certainly one of the most exhilarating movie experiences I’ve had in a while. I’ll be the first to admit I’m a bit of a sf geek, so there is plenty to relish. I very much enjoyed the nu-Star Trek movie, the re-booting, as they call it. But I can’t really compare, because District 9 is so unequivocally original, whereas Star Trek, well, most people know the basic elements of that movie like the back of their hands, even if they’re not Trekkies.

Neill Blomkamp was originally slated to direct Peter Jackson’s big screen adaptation of the popular futuristic combat video game Halo. The budget was going to be around $145 million. A short six-minute “trailer” was created to woo financiers and distributors, but after months of pre-production the project was canned. In the wake, Jackson’s wife and screenwriting collaborator, Fran Walsh suggested turning Blomkamp’s short satirical alien movie Alive in Joberg into a feature. Jackson and Blomkamp were very enthusiastic and the project was immediately greenlit for a budget of only $30 million.

Considering what the finished movie looks like, it’s astonishing what the production team have done with the budget. It looks like something that cost ten times as much. The brilliantly conceived visual style, production design and integrated CGI effects are state of the art. But what adds so much real weight to the movie, apart from all the photo-realistic digital compositing and pyrotechnics and cleverly weathered hardware, is the excellent screenplay and central performance by Sharlto Copley, co-written with partner Terri Tatchel.

District 9 is a perfect popcorn in 2009 movie to be seen on the biggest, loudest screen possible, even if it is just your 42-inch home TV. Grab your mates and make a Saturday night of it. You’ll be talking about the movie for days after. This was and always will be my pick for best movie of 2009.