Monday, September 26, 2005

f(AFI)ng about

Turns out BB wasn't the only person who was majorly offended by Wolf Creek. The AFI audience yesterday morning was buzzing, and all around me I could hear things like 'I couldn't bear anymore', 'we had to go for a bit of a debrief afterwards with a stiff drink', and 'I had so much trouble sleeping'. BB had trouble sleeping too, and I'm profoundly grateful I chose not to go. The consensus seemed to be that it was pornographic snuff.

Yesterday we saw Oyster Farmer, which had, for me, a similar feel to Peaches. All very beautiful, great actors, bit of humour etc etc. Enjoyed it a lot, just not as much as I enjoyed Look Both Ways. But that's just me, with my weakness for animation.

That was followed by The Illustrated Family Doctor, which is quite dark and kooky, but lacked the charisma that could transform it into a cult classic. It does put the boot well into Reader's Digest, something I enjoyed as that company seems to be fleecing my grandmother of every penny she has... and it brought back memories of looking through our RD Medical Encyclopaedia when we were kids, scaring ourselves with the endless and revolting photos of suppurating wounds and aggressive rashes, feeling a thrill of horror equal to an olden-day freak show.

Finally for that day's AFI viewings we saw The Widower, described as a 'poetic tale exploring ageing, isolation and love in an Australian rural setting, based on the poems of Les Murray, with a live soundtrack featuring guitarist Slava Grigoryan.' Again, very beautiful, and mercifully short (60 mins). Half the words are sung and half are spoken, but I would have preferred all the words to be spoken. It felt like something made for tv, but it looked good on the big screen.

We came out of that session wanting a bit of pace, because all the movies had been soooo sloooooowwwww. So what did we do? Go to the movies! Gawd, we're getting widescreen eyes. But it was Murderball, and it was great. Pace, pace and more pace. I loved the way the newby quadraplegic's eyes lit up when he realised that being in a wheelchair didn't mean he had to be wrapped in cotton wool, and I was shocked at the sight of crippled Gulf War veterans who looked no more than 15 if they were a day. Blood-boiling stuff. Buck Fush, says a t-shirt I saw the other day cruising the internet. Indeed.

Tonight I'm staying home. I don't think even the tv screen is going to come on. I need some visual space!

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