Everybody knows that heaps of awesome wacked out shit happened in the seventies. But the decade wasn’t all about disco and deep throat and Doobie Brothers and Dr Who, you know. Apparently some pretty seminal performance art went down too – the only thing is that nobody really documented any of it.
Tom Cochraine knew what life was about and to a lesser extent so did Ace of Base,and arguably so did Morrissey but probably not this guy.
As reassuring as it may seem to tell yourself ‘Life is a highway I want to ride it all night long' sometimes it doesn't hurt to engage in a slightly deeper dialogue about life and the human condition.
Breast milk! Betrayed! Wake up, Winnipegger! Even the titles that flash up during Guy Maddin's My Winnipeg are infectious. It's a kinda-sorta love-hate documentary about his hometown, populated by dreamers, lorded over by his all-powerful mother, and made mythical by an avalanche of surreal new facts.
If you’ve seen one American teenage film you’ve seen them all. While it’s obviously testing for us as cinemagoers to watch the same old sex, drugs, drama and insecurity that plays out in these high-school sitcoms, imagine how hard it is for film-makers and directors still interested in cinematic explorations of this treacherous and fascinating period of life?
Instead of making another ‘American Pie’ or ‘Mean Girls’ or ‘Can’t Hardly Wait’ director Nanette Burstein thankfully decided to work with something a lot more fascinating – actual real high school students from American’s actual Midwest.
It seems strange that so many people ache for this thing called domestic bliss. The entire course of history, coupled with television shows like Desperate Housewives, would suggest to us that domesticity is less about bliss than it is about boredom, repressed desire, piles of dirty underwear and a gradual appreciation of television personalities such as Kerri-Anne Kennerly.
We here at FourThousand are all a little bit queer, some more then others, some more then they would like to admit. Some have been a little bit queerer for a little bit longer, but do not fear age will not weary them. Luckily for us, we can just remember the first Brisbane Queer Film Festival, or at minimum the fabulous Opening Gala Night parties that have come and gone over the years.
Most of the time, when people feel like getting all classy and European and provocative on first dates, they’ll just grab a French film on their way home from work. There are only a few clever, one-track-minded amigos around this town who know the truth: Spanish cinema is what you watch when you want to inspire real passion.
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