Hugo Weaving & Tom Russell star in LAST RIDE, Glendyn Ivin's parent-child road trip

Parenting can be a bummer, but having a dad like the character played by Hugo Weaving in the not-so-new (it debuted at TIFF in 2009) Australian movie LAST RIDE, is very nearly no fun at all. The film itself is not a lot of fun, either -- but it is a good one, well worth seeing. The child is question is a young lad who seems bright and capable and might very well make something of himself -- if nature, together with the crummy nurturing he's had up to now, doesn't get the better of him.

As directed by Glendyn Ivin -- shown at left, whose first full-length film this is -- with a screen-play adapted by Mac Gudgeon from the novel by Denise Young, the movie takes the form of a journey by the boy and his dad, across the outback of Australia, as they stay a step or two ahead of the law. Just what dad has done to incur being chased becomes clear over time, and what slowly transpires is a very difficult, sad and untimely coming-of-age tale about a boy who should never have to handle what is thrust upon him here.

As well played by Weaving, above, one of Australia's finest actors, and the excellent young newcomer Tom Russell (below, who made this movie prior The Tree, which opened here one year ago), these two performances command our attention and at least a little of our good will, especially where young Russell's character is concerned.

Kev (Weaving) and Chook (Russell) encounter various folk, tell jokes (two out of three are pretty funny) and have some sweet moments along the way -- which becomes all the sadder as we get a better understanding of how dark and problematic is the character of Kev. Times grow rougher as the journey lengthens: "What are we gonna eat?" asks Chook. "We could catch a dingo," Dad answers. "Can you eat a dog?" the kid wonders.

One of the pleasures of the film lies in its glorious locations, beautifully photographed by Greig Fraser (Bright Star, Snow White and the Huntsman). There's an amazing scene, above, shot on what looks like a vast lake that has but one inch of water covering it.

As times grow bad, Dad gets worse, and so, unfortunately does Chook. There's one scene that suggests that the child could easily grow into the man, and the movie does not try to sugar-coat any of this. Though we've seen countless films about father-and-son bonds so strong that they that can't help but produce a happy ending, Last Ride is having little of this.

The film goes from dark to darker, never losing believability, taking us and Chook to places and actions no child should have to witness or engage. And if there is no light at tunnel's end, there is at least one ray of hope in the memory of something useful dad has taught.

Last Ride -- 100 minutes, released through Music Box Films and not to be confused with the movie of almost the same title The Last Ride), which showed up briefly a week or two back -- opens this Friday, July 6, in New York City at the Cinema Village, while simultaneously becoming available via VOD.

The photos above are from the film itself, except for 

that of Glendyn Ivin, photographed by Jeff Vespa, 

which comes courtesy of WireImage.com

Charlotte Gainsbourg & fledgling Morgana Davies shine in Julie Bertuccelli's THE TREE

Two days running and three remarkable performances from talented young ladies: yesterday's came from the two girls of Life, Above All; today we have Morgana Davies' extraordinary work in THE TREE. That anyone could steal the thunder out from under an actress as always-fine as Charlotte Gainsbourg is surprising enough; that it would  be a small girl (pictured at left on the poster, right, and three photos below) with but a single credit behind her (for a film unreleased anywhere but in Australia -- and given but a single star on its IMDB site!) is a further oddity.

Yet Ms Davies, in only her second role, excels. The film's director, Julie Bertuccelli (shown at left, of the much-heralded Since Otar Left), either cast her film strikingly well (every actor is on-point here, including the expansive arboreal giant in the title role) or else she has been able to bring out a remarkable emotional range coupled to an acute intelligence from the young co-star. Probably both.

Death comes quietly, sadly and early-on in The Tree, and while no one in the film quite recovers from this, the event grounds the tale and moves its forward. How mom (Gainsbourg, above), her four kids, and the fellow who joins the family unit adapt to their new life and to the sudden surge of importance of that tree -- each in his/her own way -- becomes the meat of the movie.

Nature plays an enormous part in  this film, and it is rare to see a movie so attuned to the intricacies of character and relationship also handle this theme so well.  From the scene with the bat flying around the house to the frogs in the toilet, the tree itself (with its giant, moisture-seeking roots), the gorgeous landscapes and finally the storm that provides the climax, theme and events in this film complement each other almost perfectly.

I noted that one of our major reviewers found that storm less than believable. Low budget or not, Bertuccelli and her crew captured the frightening force of nature believably enough for this viewer. A word should be said, too, for the fine performance from Marton Csokas (above) as the man who comes into mom's life, providing employment and more. The filmmaker, who co-adapted (with Elizabeth J. Mars) the screenplay from a novel by Judy Pascoe, does a smart job of providing reality to the relationship, the impact of which on this tightly-knit family may not be as strong as less believable (but more romantic) movies might have it.

The Tree, which, for its beauty alone, should be seen on the theater screen, opens today from Zeitgeist Films -- in New York City (the Beekman and Village East Cinemas) and on Long Island (Cinema Arts Centre) -- and elsewhere soon.  To see all the many scheduled playdates around the country, including cities and theaters, click here.

Patrick Hughes' primal thriller RED HILL rivets and moves us in equal measure

What a fine, smart, fast, intelligent -- and humane -- thriller is RED HILL, the new Australian movie from writer/director Patrick Hughes. At its core is a country’s history, telescoped down to a single event -- and the long-brewing aftermath of that event. Younger viewers, those who have come to movies too late to remember the 1970s and the resurgence of the Australian film industry during that decade, will probably accept Red Hill on its own initial-if-deceptive, simply-a-thriller terms. And that's fine -- because the movie certainly does provide a series of non-stop thrills, each one backed up by something primal and upsetting. Things are more than amiss here. Civilization is threatened.

After a sweet start, as a husband and wife awaken in their new home and hubby goes off to work (she's pregnant; he's a cop, transplanted from the city to a small-town outpost in the country), the film quickly takes off and never lets up its rapid-fire pace, even as it consistently keeps us on our toes by subver-ting expectations. This is B-movie-making of a very high order, the best of its kind since Wes Craven made Red Eye. Mr. Hughes (pictured, left) is a relative newcomer to the international film scene. He's made only three short films in over a decade, but Red Hill, his first full-length feature, should change his status fast.

Among the things Hughes handles best are clichés. He knows which to use, which to avoid and which to stand on their head for maximum impact and surprise, while making certain that his film never hops the rails of believability. Most succulently, when it does appear to defy credibility, wait a bit and, to your delight, you'll see that this is hardly the case.

Hughes also combines the thriller genre with a modern day western in which the threat comes from a source that appears as frightening as it is lethal. Primal "elements" are also present here, one of which is a major storm that's brewing. And, as with almost all good B movies, the running time is short: just 96 minutes.

Red Hill is an "aboriginal" movie in several ways. It deals with an Aborigine, played by Tommy Lewis (shown above), star of one of those seminal '70 Australian films, The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith). Its themes -- from birth and death to vengeance and the animal nature of man -- while present and accounted for are not driven home with a hammer. Finally, there is the idea of the "imported" menace: the wild animal said to be killing the livestock (below) harks back to the importation of British criminals and the destruction of the Aborigines that soon followed. While none of this is "stated," all of it is present in the tale itself.

Though the film's cast is first-rate, other than its "star," Ryan Kwanten (shown at bottom and best known for True Blood), only Mr. Lewis may ring a bell with older "arthouse" audiences. Kwanten is very good, by the way: direct and real, as believable as a young cop and father-to-be as he is a dead-set hero when the occasion demands. Lewis remains a force of nature who finally and rightly commandeers the movie. Equally fine is Steve Bisley as Kwantan's no-nonsense new boss, who has a surprise or two up his sleeve, as well.

There's a lot of violence in Red Hill, but this is no gore-fest. Considering what might have transpired in the hands of certain other directors, the film is a model of containment and righteousness. Consider, for example, what Hughes does and does not do with the killer-on-the-loose/pregnant woman combination. Suspenseful as hell, the film shows no more blood-and-guts than necessary to make its point. Gorgeous to look at (technical credts are first-rate), this is a model movie in so many ways.
Jimmie Blacksmith chants again!

Red Hill, from Strand Releasing, opens Friday, November 5, in New York City at the AMC Empire 25 and the Clearview Cinema Chelsea.  Other venues should follow fast, once word-of-mouth takes off.

David Michôd's ferocious Sundance winner ANIMAL KINGDOM arrives from Australia

Few films have opened this year (or, for that matter, over the past few years) trailing such extravagant praise as ANIMAL KINGDOM, the new criminal-family, character-study, cops-n-robbers thriller written and directed by David Michôd, whose first full-length film this is. I'm happy to report that in some important ways, the film fully justifies that praise. Gripping and surprising in equal measure from its first few frames, the movie is at once fascinating and ferocious in its depiction of a near-complete absence of, appreciation for, or understanding of the social contract, so far as the family at the center of things and their police nemeses are concerned.  You'd have to go back to Gomorrah to find a more shocking and deadening movie, though that one dealt with an enormously wide canvas of society.  Michôd keeps his story (and often his camera) much more tightly focused.

The movie opens with a young man and an older woman both on the living room sofa.  The young man is watching what appears to be some sort of "bridal show" on television, as the woman next to him sleeps. While this description nicely fits what we see, it does not begin to describe what is actually going on -- all of which comes clear in the minute or two that follows.  From this simply terrific beginning, Michôd, shown at right, takes his young protagonist (below), who hails from a side of the family that has fallen from favor, and places him in the middle of an explosive situation that could easily destroy, if not utterly degenerate, him -- but in either case will force him to grow up very quickly.

From here, we're introduced to the rest of that family and some of its friends, business partners and enemies -- the last made up mostly of cops, both clean and dirty.  The dialog slams us into the midst of it all and like much good screen-writing, allows us to piece things together only bit by bit, somewhat in the manner of our protagonist, called "J," who is a fairly strapping 17-year-old, but one who seems innately shy and retiring.  This places him quickly and (in)securely at the bottom of the family totem pole, and the performance by newcomer James Frecheville is stunningly on target.  This young actor captures nearly everything possible about his unformed character; he seems utterly real at every moment, perhaps because of the urgency involved in his immediate need to grow up.

The family that "adopts" J includes "mom" (a great performance by evergreen Aussie star Jacki Weaver, above), two of her three offspring and their business partner. A hotter lot of males you'e not likely to see on screen these days: beefy, sexy, energized to a fare-thee-well and ready for anything, especially what's not so good for them.  (That's Sullivan Stapleton as brother Craig, below.)

When we finally meet the missing brother, the oldest, nicknamed "Pope," who's been on the lam, we soon realize that, compared to Pope, everyone else here is a piker so far as weird, unsettling behavior is concerned.  As played by Ben Mendelsohn, shown below, left (remember The Year My Voice Broke? 23 years can sure mature a guy!), Pope is one scary dude.  Luke Ford plays the youngest brother Darren, as a passive, seething-below-the-surface blond Adonis (below, right), while Joel Edgerton shown at bottom), lately of The Square, plays the business partner, now happily married, who'd like to see this crazy criminal life come to an end.

Among the coppers, only the ever-reliable Guy Pearce (shown below) stands out, possibly because we know that handsome/
pretty face, and he's also the only one of the men-in-blue on view who is for-certain trustworthy.  All these actors eat up the fine script and spit out terrific performances.  And for well over half of the movie, Michôd keeps things running fast and smart.

Then, at last, coincidences begin to pile up, at the same time as believability starts to falter.  There may be spoliers ahead, so be warned.  But I cannot give examples of the above without perhaps ruining a surprise or two (I'll try not to, in any case): the bracelet a bit too conveniently discovered (and not by the person most likely to do this;)  the car smash-up (how in hell does the smasher, who didn't even know the address of the house in question, suddenly know the car he's never before seen so that he can come out of nowhere for a nifty little surprise crash; how does the key witness (who's in and then out of witness protection -- or what passes for this in Australia) manage to meet again and again in a public place with the very people he's supposed to be helping to prosecute -- with nobody noticing; and finally the finale: As full of rough justice as it may be, it is also utter crap in the do-you-believe-it dept.

You can accept all of the above (there's more; time will not permit), but it means turning off  your antennae that would normally pick up coincidental, fake or simply too far-fetched moments.  You may agree to switch off because the movie is good enough to make you want it to be better.  But Michôd's use of shorthand to reach his finale by piling up events without giving us the details that might make these events more believable is unwise -- except for audiences sitting on (instead of wearing) their "thinking caps."

Animal Kingdom, so very good in so many ways, does leave me looking forward to the filmmaker's next movie. It opens, via Sony Pictures Classics, this Friday, August 13, in New York City at the Lincoln Plaza Cinema and the Landmark Sunshine Cinema, with a limited nationwide rollout to follow.