Posts Tagged shameless self-promotion

Time Out Cinema

The Time Out juggernaut recently reached Melbourne, and I’ve been writing features, interviews and the occasional review for them. The best part? While you can still ride your dinosaur to your local newsagent and buy it in print, all its content’s online as well! You can’t search by author if you want to find my stuff, unfortunately, but here are some of my personal highlights spanning the first few issues.

I interviewed writer / director Andrew Haigh about his enormously moving drama Weekend and asked him what movie he finds genuinely romantic.

Inspired by Hugo and The Artist, I wrote about other films that wistfully look back at their own ancestors.

I talked to nomadic French filmmaker Vincent Moon about how his famous ‘Take Away Shows’ capture music in a way that regular concert documentaries can’t.

I reviewed the docos Bill Cunningham New York and Autoluminescent: Rowland S. Howard.

Something non-film: I profiled the inspirational Father Bob Maguire about 38 years of fighting the good fight.

And my favourite – because it did what all my favourite interviews do and exposed me to a world I’d never really considered before –  I was taken on a walking tour of Melbourne’s cinema graveyards:

According to Dean Brandum, the multi-storey car park next to the Forum theatre is “hallowed ground”. It was once the enormous Majestic Theatre, retooled and refurbished as The Chelsea in 1960. By the mid-70s, however, The Chelsea had become Melbourne’s home of exploitation cinema. “Lots of pornography,” says Brandum, “and lots of European horror like Giallo films. The story goes that you could always see more rats than customers.”

Check out Time Out Melbourne here.

, , ,

No Comments

Morgan Spurlock on The American Way

Supersize Me’s Morgan Spurlock is no stranger to brand warfare. (He and Ronald McDonald probably still aren’t speaking.) Spurlock’s new documentary, The Greatest Story Ever Sold, is both about the evils of product placement and entirely funded by product placement. The Guardian just reviewed it, saying “We onlookers seem to be expected to wallow in a kind of knee-jerk indignation that we don’t actually feel” and “For your next trick, Morgan, why not try something less tricksy but a little bit more consequential?”

I interviewed Spurlock about this little while ago for triple j magazine, and found him A) very charming and B) pretty candid about the film’s goals. Here it is.

So this interview is just part of the ‘media impressions’ required by your sponsors, right?

That’s right. You’re complicit in this whole process.

I feel like a DVD extra or something.

You are a walking, talking DVD extra! But it’s not just you. What I love about the film is that it shows you how things are marketed, how that marketing turns into awareness, how that awareness turns into attendance…

In Greatest Movie, we see you getting your Don Draper on and trying to sell the concept to brands. Is this something that comes naturally, or do you hate the business of movie-making?

What I’ve learned is that if you’re going to be in this business, you really need to understand how to manoeuvre in this business. Pitching is one of those things that they don’t teach you in school. You’re thrown into the deep end as a filmmaker when you graduate from college and you’ve got to figure it out. I made it up as I went along.

Your last film, Where In The World is Osama Bin Laden

Question answered by the way. President Obama, you’re welcome.

…that movie was also a kind of sales pitch, just one for tolerance and understanding. Greatest Story feels different because you’re compromised from the start.

Yeah. That’s part of what makes the film work. You see the corruption take place. After making this, I told people that when you get into business with a brand it’s not a 30% or 40% chance – it’s a 100% chance they’ll somehow infect the content.

“Transparency is the new objectivity”. Do you agree?

I think we live in a time where people have been jerked around and lied to for so long that the new thing is just to not jerk people around and lie to them. To finally say: “You know what? I’m going to do something nuts and tell you the truth.” We’re at the end of that rope, and people are tired of being bullshitted.

Is that really where we’re setting the bar? “I know you’re going to screw me, but at least you’re honest about it”?

Yeah! I think it is! That’s exactly where we are!

The movie shows how everyone has their own line between ‘what’s okay’ and ‘what’s selling out’. Where’s your line?

The line I didn’t want to cross was giving up control of the film. The greatest asset they got out was the movie marketing their products, but the greatest asset I got was the film itself. The minute I gave final cut over to a brand or a company, I compromised my ability to tell the most honest and open story I could.

Did a number of sponsors want final cut?

All of them. Every single contract.

They should at least put more money on the table. “Final cut? Ten million dollars!”

I would happily have given it to them for ten million dollars.

Are you worried the film makes product placement seem sort of fun and harmless?

There was a great thing that happened after the premiere of the movie at Sundance. We got a standing ovation for the brands. It was one of the most insane things you’d ever seen. A woman came up to one of the brand representatives and said “First I want to thank you, all your companies, for supporting this movie. I’m going to buy more of your products because you did – but I’m conflicted about it.” Luckily the irony wasn’t lost on her. And I hope that when people watch the movie, just like her, the irony of the situation isn’t lost.

While a lot of the doco is funny, I found the last ten minutes strangely moving, especially with that OK Go song rising up behind it.

What I love about the film is how it comes full circle. Everything I’m critiquing at the beginning of the movie are the tools I’m using to market the film at the end. So you see the snake eating its tail. The lyrics of that OK Go song are “We solved all our problems with bigger problems”. That’s the American way.

This interview first appeared in triple j magazine #53.

, , , ,

No Comments

EXIT’s World Premiere

Is there anything more frightening than the words “BUY TICKETS” next to the title of a movie you wrote?

As we announced last week – after keeping quiet about it for far, far too long – EXIT will soon have its world premiere at the Fantasia Festival in Montreal.

And even better, EXIT will be the closing night film of Fantasia’s Camera Lucida spotlight. Programmer Simon Laperrière has said that the first Camera Lucida spotlight was based on a question:

“What is genre cinema today? And to answer it, I said we have to look at genre film in its most iconoclastic form, in all its differences.”

Last year – the first of Camera Lucida – included Quentin Duplex’s killer tire movie Rubber and Hirokazu Koreeda’s poetic, absurd Air Doll. This year, it opens with William Eubank’s avant-garde sci-fi Love and closes with the world premiere of EXIT on August 4.

Their description of EXIT begins like this: “According to legend, there exists at the heart of the city a door that opens upon a parallel universe. No one knows its origin or where it leads.” It calls EXIT “one of the best science fiction films of the year, merging a small budget with big ideas.”

(Is EXIT a science fiction film? I think that’s a very interesting question, actually…)

You can read Fantasia’s full description here, as well as watch our trailer and buy tickets for the premiere. The director Marek Polgar and I will be guests of the festival, too, and we can’t wait.

, , , , ,

No Comments

Rapture Ready

In Australia, not long ago, we were amongst the first to see the respectable 6pm Saturday deadline for Harold Camping’s predicted rapture. It was impossible to ignore the fact that the world actually didn’t end. Don’t worry – he’s now said that it’ll come in October, and this time was more of a spiritual armageddon. The kind most of us wouldn’t notice.

But all this rapture-talk reminded me of a novella I wrote, inspired by my own odd feeling of disappointment when the world didn’t end on New Year’s Eve 1999. It’s called Zero Zero Zero, and features the hyperactive, advertising-tinged writing style I used a few years ago. (I’ve been trying to tame it ever since.) It stars a conceptual supermodel, a vigilante postman, and a young man receiving private, inexplicable broadcasts of a sci-fi radio serial.

I thought I’d put the first chapter, Midnight, online for anyone who might still be feeling a little apocalyptically unsettled.

, , ,

No Comments