Unlucky numbers: 1% (2017), The Death & Life of Otto Bloom (2016)

Sandy Harbutt’s Stone—with its ambitious scale, impressive action set pieces, and an ensemble studded with excellent character actors—casts a fairly imposing shadow over any Australian biker films in its wake, but 1% (2017) carves its own scrappy, gnarly place at the table, with shades too of Rowan Woods’ The Boys and David Michod’s Animal Kingdom. Directed by Stephen McCallum and also known as Outlaws, it centres on the power dynamics in a motorcycle gang between its president (Matt Nable), recently released from prison, and interim leader (Ryan Corr, surprisingly adept in the role) who’s covering for his erring brother’s (Josh McConville) misdemeanors. There’s a more interesting side story to be told about fraught relations with Aaron Pedersen’s charismatic rival gang leader, but 1% manages to tap a Shakespearean vein or two with its themes of succession and Lady Macbeth-esque wife characters, played well by Abbey Lee (Mad Max: Fury Road) and Simone Kessell (Liquid Bridge).

The Death and Life of Otto Bloom (2016), written and directed by Cris Jones, centres on the titular Bloom (played by Xavier Samuel), whose consciousness experiences time in reverse. The film unfolds in a mockumentary format utilizing, among other things, talking head interviews, archival media, videotape & home movies, and stills, depicting Bloom’s early romance with an academic psychologist (Matilda Brown and later Rachel Ward), later relationships, international celebrity, and subsequent controversies and retreat from the limelight. The potentially lumpy concept is fairly well-executed, with whiffs of its more stylized antecedents The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Zelig, the latter most notably in the talking heads interviews (themselves cribbed by Woody Allen from Reds). The film is somewhat hampered by casting the likeable but thoroughly ordinary Samuel as the extraordinary Bloom; he’s serviceable, but lacks any enigmatic quality.

Ben

Beyond Innocence (1989)

Published 2017 on Down Under Flix Director: Scott Murray Stars: Katia Caballero, Keith Smith Scott Murray is one of the premier commentators on Australian cinema. He’s best known as editor and contributor to Cinema Papers and Senses of Cinema , as well as for editing, authoring, and contributing to various volumes on Australian film, including one particularly indispensable resource for my work on Down Under Flix, Australian Film 1978–1994 . In the 1980s, Murray directed the film Beyond Innocence , also known as Devil in the Flesh . It was both his theatrical feature debut and swansong, though he’d later helm a music documentary, Massenet: His Life and Music .

Six pack: Furiosa (2024), Force of Nature (2024), No Escape (1994), The New Boy (2023), Mary and Max (2009), and Sweet As (2022)

There used to be a nerdy adage—at least until contrary instalments countered the point—that even-numbered Star Trek films were better than their odd-numbered counterparts. I wouldn’t be surprised if a similar adage emerges about the Mad Max films: while the obviously odd-numbered original was a trailblazer, it’s The Road Warrior and Fury Road that have commanded universal acclaim, while Beyond Thunderdome and Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (2024) have proven divisive. There are striking moments—as expected in both a George Miller film and a Mad Max film—in Furiosa , and Miller remains the most idiosyncratic generator of sequels: Furiosa (technically a prequel) is his sixth, after a Babe sequel, a Happy Feet sequel, and three other Mad Max sequels, with none of these offshoots feeling the same. However, if you’d told me Furiosa was based on a five-part prequel comic book series, I’d believe you, based on its chapter structure and the narrative dead end it arrives at. As it stand...

Malcolm (1986)

When penning my review of Black and White , starring Robert Carlyle, I was reminded of my two theatrical viewings of The Full Monty : one in a packed theatre with patrons lapping up the film, the other a few weeks later in a large theatre with less than a dozen, far more polite punters. As a dumb teen, I took away the wrong lesson: that the film didn’t work/wasn’t successful outside a packed auditorium. As an adult, I have a more rounded appreciation of the film and its grace notes that aren't dependent on an enthused opening weekend crowd — the thoughtful, non-condescending working-class milieu it sketches (much more effective and less caricatured than the likes of Billy Elliot ), the lovely work from Lesley Sharp, and so on—but the two distinct viewings remain an instructive lesson in the role of an audience in galvanizing each other and collectively elevating a film experience [1]. Malcolm (1986) is a film I’ve also watched twice—albeit at home and with a much longer interva...

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