If you didn't catch our roundtable discussion on The Golden Compass - the new film based on the first book of Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy - make sure you listen to the podcast! You can read Mark Hadley's review of the books here.

In addition, film critic Jeffrey Overstreet has some great questions to ask your children who read the book that will help them process what they read:

1. If we cast off all "authority" and set up "free will" as the ultimate source of guidance, where will that get us?
2. Has the world shown us that the human heart is a trustworthy "compass"?
3. Does free will lead us always to the right choice?
4. If the heroes accept the "truth" of the alethiometer (the compass itself), aren't they letting themselves be guided by just another source of truth—another "Authority"? But didn't the story tell us "Authority" is bad and we should only follow our own hearts?
5. If there are "many truths," then aren't these heroes being as self-righteous and wicked as the oppressors by demanding that their version of the truth is better than others?
6. What is so inspiring about the battle between the bears? Hasn't this story led us to a place where it's just "survival of the fittest" all over again? Should we really hope that the world falls into the hands of the strongest fighter, rather than into the hands of love?
   

They say you are what you eat. If this year’s television diet is anything to go by, we’re going to develop a taste for the overly buffed, salivate over muscle cars, digest the bitterness of organised crime and be too full for our families…

The Seven Network
LOW: Gladiators
Maybe I’m being overly dismissive, but I can’t really see the new series of Gladiators contributing anything particularly exciting to Australia’s 2008 menu. The fanciful performances of the combatants and the mock-shocked presenters are typically strained and the entertainment, if any, relies solely on the potential for the real injury of entrants. Think Nero’s circus maximus meets WWF. If there is any positive it will be the ideas it passes on to youth group leaders for Friday night games. Otherwise, the only viewers being mentally challenged will be those who thought the ‘Bring back the biff’ t-shirts were a good idea.

HIGH: Packed to the Rafters
This is an Aussie drama that stands a good chance of making us think about our modern family make-ups, though the questions may be too close to home (pardon the pu). Packed to the Rafters is a drama based built around Dave and Julie Rafter (Erik Thomson and Rebecca Gibney), baby-boomers on the verge of retirement with three adult children. Consider the dilemmas that emerge when said off-spring each see the need to move back home due to various life-struggles. For decades Australians have been developing an unhealthy obsession with the day the kids are finally ‘off their hands’ leading to the idea that parenting is a limited responsibility. Hopefully Seven’s new drama will provide opportunities for us to consider just what a good dad God is.

The Nine Network
LOW: Secret Diary of a Call Girl
This imported English drama has already made huge waves across the intervening waters. It is based on blogs posted by a prostitute known as Bel de Jour, recounting in explicit detail her experiences servicing the UK’s middle classes. The television series starring Billie Piper of Doctor Who fame contains similarly explicit material. However the real concern is the glamour the program is likely to lend to the trade. Belle has respectful, good-looking clientele, is never bothered by the police and earns substantial returns for the fun she appears to have. There are gritty sides to various episodes, but the criminal aspects and the dangers associated with prostitution are largely edited out. Predictably some nitwit will get up and talk about how empowering such a series is for women both in an out of this sad situation. Would said person be prepared to demonstrate the strength of their convictions by trying the profession for themselves? Unlikely.

HIGH: Underbelly
There series of underworld assassinations that captured the attention of Australians for the better part of a decade is likely to make captivating television, so long as the producers don’t let their imaginations run wild. The 13-part mini-series by Screentime is based on the book Leadbelly: Inside Australia's Underworld by The Age journalists, John Silvester and Andrew Rule. It’s a massive foray into Australian drama with a substantial cast aimed at helping Nine reclaim its number one status. The way in which Melbourne’s seemingly untouchable crime families spectacularly self-destructed certainly lends strength to Leviticus’ timeless assertion: beware, your sins will find you out. My hope would be that Underbelly doesn’t descend into caricatures like ‘loveable rogue’ and ‘evil psychopath’, at once softening and desensitizing us to the real ordinariness of sin and its deceptive potential to lead any of us on to the most despicable acts.

Network TEN
LOW: Swingtown
Marketing wordsmiths have continued their onslaught on the English language and combined ‘drama’ and ‘comedy’ to create ‘dramedy’ to describe this US import. It’s one collision you’ll probably want to avoid. According to the marketing guff, Swingtown “…peeks into the shag-carpeted suburban homes of the 1970s to find couples revelling in the sexual and social revolution that introduced open marriages, women's liberation and challenged many conventional wisdoms.” That might be enough said, but the real question will be whether those ‘conventional wisdoms’ are successfully but unrealistically overturned. Real life has demonstrated that the liberation gained in this part of history has had the added benefits of freeing us from stable relationships, nuclear families and a sense of community. Since the producer, Mike Kelly, also consults on The OC it’s unlikely we’re going to learn anything helpful here.

HIGH: Kenny’s World Toilet Tour
One-trick pony you say? If I were Shane Jacobson I’d be worried. But the star of the hit Australian comedy about a man in charge of port-a-loos seems the obvious choice for a tour of the world’s toilets. The project sounds banal, and its placement on TEN is not encouraging, but there’s actually something quite equalising and down-to-earth about a view of the world that begins with the realities of the human condition – even a king has to go to the bathroom.  It could be a welcome anodyne to the overly polished characters that often populate television dramas and histories. So long as it doesn’t get bogged down in juvenile humour (again, sorry for the pun) it may be as sobering as it is informative.

ABC
LOW: Family Brat Camp
I’m generally fairly scathing when it comes to programs that promise to fix your family problems, but only deal with one side of the equation. The predecessor to this series, Brat Camp, was a prime example. There, problem children were sent off to American desert locations to suffer until they’d learnt to value the homes they’d left behind. I’m not doubting that some of the lessons were valid, but I wasn’t sure how removing kids from the very situation they’re failing in, and ignoring the parents who are at least partially responsible for it, was likely to produce a positive, long-term result. This new series seems to address some of those concerns, taking both troublesome teens and suffering parents off into the wilderness to bond or break together. However, again, it’s hard to see how it will really result in anyone learning the sort of skills that will help them behave responsibly in the environment they’ve left behind. Character is more likely the result of time, time, time in far less picturesque everyday locations.

HIGH: Jane Austen Fourplay
To be honest, I wasn’t sure if the ABC deserved two ‘lows’ when I read the media release for this series. On the up-side, the public broadcaster is doing what it does best, providing access to high quality productions of four more morality tales from the pen of Jane Austen. However the accompanying description, ‘bodice-ripping frenzy of costume drama delight’ and the obviously sexual reference in the series title leaves you wondering. Still, the fact that productions of Emma, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion will be arriving on the small screen this year gives some hope. Mansfield Park, for one, will provide a tale about the true nature of attractiveness in an age where appearance and income are all that seem to matter – that’s the 19th century rather than the 21st but hopefully the lesson won’t be lost.

SBS
LOW: Skins
As if Sex in the City and Californication didn’t go far enough, SBS is happy to present sex-based drama that details the antics of British adolescents. Dawsons Creek with cockney accents? Maybe. But is it a reflection of reality or a load of wishful thinking from older producers? Nicholas Hoult plays the pumped up, manipulative ‘fixer’ for a wayward group of friends in a world of drugs, dance and rebellion. But as another reviewer puts it his character “…is overwritten with all the intellectual precocity and sexual confidence of a coke-snorting city banker twice his age.” I’m not suggesting there isn’t plenty of promiscuity amongst the teens and tweens, but you have to wonder how much programs like this act as self-fulfilling prophecies. Extremes like these arguably move the ‘middle ground’ of acceptability for younger audiences.

Open House TV and Media reviewer Mark Hadley, from Anglican Media 

Time to get the Big Picture on film, with a Citizen-Kane style flick about a preacher, an oil tycoon, and moral frailty. There Will Be Blood is loosely based on an 80-year-old novel by Upton Sinclair titled Oil!  It’s a 19th century story of the ambition of two men, the hard-bitten oil man Daniel Plainview (played by Daniel Day Lewis) and the preachin’, teachin’ faith healin’ son of a goat herder, Eli Sunday (Paul Dano). That ambition turns into greed and callousness with the truth and with their fellow human beings.

Eli’s family is sitting on pay dirt and Plainview accepts a $10,000 proviso so Eli can build a church – money that never passes hands. Oil comes through in a great gusher, and that’s where Plainview’s problems really start.

Daniel Day Lewis gives a huge performance in the lead role. His will cannot be contained; he is a terrifying figure but also a broken, pathetic soul. It’s both a study in human potency and an object lesson is mortal frailty. Audiences may recall Paul Dano from his role as the silent but endearing older brother in Little Miss Sunshine. Dano, who plays Eli and the scarcely seen twin brother who scabs a finder’s fee off Plainview, is great as an old time preacher who’s more a carnival barker than a minister of the gospel. 

The film’s gothic power and intensity comes from the two male leads and the music score by Jonny Greenwood of Radiohead, who uses searing discords, bizarre percussion and intense volume to build tension and give power to the conflicts and situations that go down.

For me, There Will Be Blood brought the following to mind:
• The evil twin of capitalism is greed
• Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely
• We can learn from Ben Franklin’s little quote, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive. The truth will come out. More to the point, quoting Chairman Moses, be sure your sins will find you out.

There Will Be Blood is nominated for best movie, director, actor, cinematography, editing, sound editing, art direction and best screenplay based on existing work. It’s a powerful, exhilarating film of biblical proportions. Director Paul Thomas Anderson gave us confronting films such Boogie Nights, Magnolia and Punch Drunk Love, so viewers should know before they show up that they are in for a rocky ride – he loves to challenge the status quo and explore the use of hypocrisy in society and relationships. The truth will come out, and there will indeed be blood in this gothic morality tale. Take the title literally and see this if you have a strong stomach and a love for drama.

There Will Be Blood is M for moderate violence and themes.

Open House film reviewer Barry Gittins is editor of On Fire magazine, and a regular reviewer for the Salvos' Warcry magazine: www.salvationarmy.org.au/warcry

If Underbelly is capable of breaking free from the legal quagmire that continues to dog its production, then it promises to be one of the most significant home-grown television releases of the year. The subject matter alone is compelling: the dramatisation of a real-life Melbourne gang-war that resulted in 33 deaths from 1995 to 2004. This tell-all tale will probably engross Australian audiences for months, but the real reasons for this fascination are likely to surprise...

What is unlikely to impress is the series’ delivery. Underbelly, based on the superbly researched book ‘Leadbelly’ by John Silvester and Andrew Rule, has made a perplexing transition to the small screen. A confusing pastiche of melodrama and documentary is unlikely to win it many fans. The Baz Luhrman inspired opening scenes (think Romeo + Juliet) clash strangely with the Caroline Craig narration that reminds me eerily of Lisa McCune’s work for the investigative crime series Forensic Investigators. The result is a less than successful melding of kitsch melodrama and serious documentary.

It’s the subject matter, though, that is likely to overcome the series’ production draw-backs. Evil is interesting. Watching the debauched and murderous activities of the ‘Carlton Crew’ and Carl William’s gang, we can’t help but wonder what brings a person to perpetrate these outrages? How, for example, can a character like Jason Moran callously beat a woman with a pool cue and not dissolve into a pool of self-loathing?

Underbelly offers few answers unless it is to imply that there is a special breed of human being who differs from the rest of us in their capacity for evil, and so needs to be dealt with in a way that ensures their control, if not their removal. Production company Screentime’s executive director, Des Monaghan emphasises this ‘them and us’ division as he reflects on the villains of this 13-part series. “It must be extraordinarily liberating to have no regard or concern for consequences but most of us, thank God, pause and think before we act.” Do we?

Alphonse Gangitano, the slick stand-over merchant who met his demise on the opening night does seem to show some form of remorse, leading to a visit to his local priest and a seemingly penitent conversation with his mistress. “You believe in redemption don't you?” she asks. “I keep wondering whether it’s possible to change myself, my life. How does it work?” “What? Redemption?” Alphonse responds. “Confess your sins. You ask for forgiveness and you clean the slate - that's it … provided you repent – that’s the catch.” “Sounds too good to be true,” she replies. “I hope not,” he says in an undertone.

The conversation indicates a good idea of the mechanism for entering the new life. But this is one leopard that can’t change his loafers, regardless of his promises. Moments before he is gunned down he is planning his next robbery. For the writers evil is clearly a something of a genetic disposition that needs to be selectively edited from the human genome. Certainly there are no real tears at the gang funeral that follows.

But Underbelly viewers aren’t required to understand the source of evil in order to accept that it has its consequences. Alphonse’s seeming change of heart is greeted by his fellow gang-members as still more evidence of a character out of control, and indeed the feel as an audience member is that he fails to understand that there will be an accounting for his actions. In fact, both in the drama and in real life we expect it. This desire is yet another key to the likely success of Underbelly. As human beings we require a level of justice that is often not achieved in the real world. So, as in the case of a drama like this one, we not only want to understand the motivations for evil, we want to see it soundly and comprehensively punished. Bad guys are not allowed to walk away at the end, nor will they in Underbelly.

Viewers will follow Underbelly from week to week because dramas like these help us to some degree to process the problem of evil. It may not provide the historical accuracy we might hope for, but Underbelly will deliver the resolution we crave. However its unnatural division of the world into ‘bad guys’ (the gangsters), ‘good guys’ (the cops), and victims or ‘normal people’ (the rest of us) is ultimately unhelpful. It leaves us witnessing and condemning evil without actually taking any responsibility for it – something the ultimate judge is unlikely to let slide.

Mark Hadley is the Culture editor at Your.sydneyanglicans.net and Christianity.net.au.

I began this week with a conversation with Michael, a solid Christian tradesman and family man, who was concerned about how the media shaped the way we saw ourselves and each other by the way it portrayed sex on television. He was particularly concerned about the Nine Network’s Underbelly, a series that is rapidly earning itself a reputation for graphic sex scenes. “Men need to be warned about the effect watching those images is going to have,” he told me. No argument there!

But as always scratching the surface reveals a somewhat larger, subtler problem beneath. It’s not just the portrayal of sex that has the power to reshape our self-image. Fantasy story-lines centering on power and money are just as likely to undermine our characters as alluring images erode the surface.

Take the two new American releases Dirty Sexy Money and Cashmere Mafia for example.  In the first we’re introduced to the members of an obscenely rich New York family with little or no sense of social responsibility. Tripp Darling, the family patriarch (played by Donald Sutherland) manipulates the world from a leather armchair in penthouse or private jet; the Rev Brian Darling rages over the arrival of his love-child on his doorstep; and Patrick Darling, the senator-in-waiting wonders why people won’t let him and his cross-dressing boyfriend be. Cashmere Mafia is only slightly less incredible. Four highly successful women, friends from business school, beguile the opposition as they pursue their lucrative careers. Juliet Draper, the chief operating officer of a successful hotel chain (played by Australia’s Miranda Otto) places her wealthy husband on notice that if he doesn’t reform his philandering ways, she will shame him by selecting a lover from their high society clique. Now she struggles to choose between two equally rich and attractive men.

In both series the characters’ clothes, personalities and hair-styles are ridiculously larger than life. No-one would seriously claim to model their life off them. But they might be the people we would day-dream about being if we had no restraints, much like men who still fantasize about being the cool and conscienceless James Bond. Power stories are just as seductive and destructive as sexual voyeurism.

Like Bond, what makes the cast of Cashmere Mafia and Dirty Sexy Money’s are their unlimited resources. In short, their money. Think about it: what woman who has been married for 20 years could seriously consider trading in their husband for their lover without fear of loss? But Juliet Draper can because she is a woman of independent means. Money is her freedom.

If I were Screwtape, C.S. Lewis’ famous senior devil, I would advise my junior tempters that this was the real goal of this television genre. Programs like Cashmere Mafia and Dirty Sexy Money don’t exist to create role models for the petty humans. They’re too bold, too ridiculous and so too easy to mock. Anyone can see their characters wouldn’t stand up to the wear and tear of everyday life. No, the real goal is to make the assertion that ‘money = freedom’ seem credible – at any level. Plant the thoughts, “If I only had more money then I could finally do that,’ or “I wouldn't have to put up with him - I would have options.” Get them to bend their minds towards this false god and the damage is done. The scale of their acceptance, whether it be in the millions or the few thousand more a year, is immaterial. The sin itself is all that really matters.

Under the influence of the ‘money = freedom’ delusion people can be coaxed into giving up fulfilling jobs for worse ones with bigger pay packets. Alternatively they can be encouraged to add that extra part-time job with its deceptively small time commitment. The goal in either case is to earn just that bit more to afford the trip or the family essential that will broaden everyone’s horizons. In fact the result is the worker has even less time to enjoy whomever it was they are supposedly slaving for. We tend to smile on such behaviour because it can be described in terms like ‘responsible’ and ‘hard working’. But the sin is no different than if they were to go out and apply for multiple credit cards to feed their perceived needs. Avarice has found a place in their souls, it just entered by a different door.

What really sets ones like Screwtape laughing is that the assertion ‘money = freedom’ is so obviously false, so easy to disprove, that it won’t stand up under even the most cursory examination, let alone the thorough going over a book like Ecclesiastes gives it. Real life, dispassionately observed, provides enough evidence. Consider how chained to their empires the Murdochs and the Packers are. Or on a more personal scale, observe how big the insurance bills become the more we step up our incomes. Money = less freedom, less security in the end. The worship of wealth only knits a person closer to the world. It is in fact the chief weed that threatens to choke the growth of the Gospel in our lives. That is why these philosophies are buried in light entertainment rather than declared in documentaries. One real market crash would reveal the reality of the situation. But the idea is to fuddle the audience, not cause them to think. Get into their day-dreams and slowly establish ‘money = freedom’ as the unquestioned basis for their daily decisions, and their daily betrayals.

Open House TV reviewer Mark Hadley is the Culture editor at Your.sydneyanglicans.net and Christianity.net.au.

Wendy Harmer’s new foray into the life-style focused documentary is a surprisingly considered approach to our obsession with ownership and the objects that give our lives meaning. But at what point do we stop possessing and start to become possessed?

I’ll admit that I thought I was tuning into a series on a celebration of our collective obsession. The sort of program you expect to see elderly women with staggering collections of egg cups and aging men standing at the doors of garages crammed with 19th century type-writers. Wendy Harmer is both the presenter and writer of the series and, after all, she is better known for her lengthy career revelling in the ridiculous on breakfast radio. But I was comprehensively mistaken.

Harmer does bring her light-hearted sense of humour to the topic of the possessions that cram our homes, but the examination is every bit as informative and insightful as you would expect from an ABC documentary series.
The grand question under discussion is, ‘what do we get from all of our stuff?’

It would be very easy, looking out on our consumption-driven society, to conclude that stuff was in fact the problem and we could all just do with a lot less. I’m not going to argue the point, and neither does the series. What Wendy Harmer does draw to our attention though is the multitude of roles that ‘stuff’ serves within our society.
Enter Esther, the expectant mother who is also expecting a gaggle of friends to arrive on her doorstep at any moment for her baby shower. As Harmer points out, “Even in the womb we are starving to accumulate a great big pile of stuff.” But accumulating baby products here is not just about having the latest Elvis-styled Quadruple-0 jump suit. In this context, the presentation of stuff is an essential part of the fabric of relationship. “We want to give support and the way we tend to do that is not just emotionally but by giving materially. By giving stuff,” the episode informs us. In fact, for those familiar with the popular Christian book ‘The Five Love Languages’ author Dr Gary Chapman identifies the giving of small gifts as a primary means of communicating love for a significant number of people.

Possessions also play a healthy role in forming identity. Again, this is not to say that ‘we are what we own’ but that what we own helps us know which communities we belong to (from the tribal Masai to the urban teen) and puts us in touch with our personal histories. “We document for ourselves our lives in terms of our objects,” says sociologist Dr Beryl Langer. The toy car was the one we received when we went to school; the football our gift from Uncle Trevor, and so on. But what happens when our life becomes only about the stuff we have or hope to accumulate?

There are few better times to observe the vast accumulation of useless stuff than in the days that follow a marriage ceremony. Who amongst us married people has not looked down at the sixth quiche dish and wondered what passes through people’s minds when they stand in a shopping centre and consider how best to convey their affection for you and your beloved? As I said above, the temptation would be to say that a drastic reduction in giving was the answer. However Jesus Himself was not adverse to handing out wedding gifts – the wedding at Cana ended in an exorbitant gift to the newly weds – He just made sure they were appropriate and appreciated. Consider how valuable a saleable supply of fine wine would be to a couple in a poor village whose expenses had not stretched to covering their own required celebrations?

The chief problems with ‘stuff’ from the Christian’s perspective are context and ownership. The Barbie in one setting is the valued and meaningful present whereas in another it is just doll number 28 to be barely glanced at. In that respect, we have to value the things we have more not less, and seek fulfillment from the love they may represent, not simply their quantity and frequency of arrival. Furthermore, ‘stuff’ can be a great source of joy – it can be beautiful, meaningful, encouraging etc – but how tightly we hang on to it says a lot about the state of our hearts.

Jesus warned people to “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions,” (Luke 12:15). Harmer does a good job of drawing out the problems associated with the unnatural and forced value we put on ‘abundance’ because of the directives of transitory fashions. However it is this concept of ‘possession’ that also causes problems. Karl Marx said the problem began not with objects but with ownership and moved from this to communism. You don’t have to go that far, however, to recognize an intrinsic truth. As faulted humans we move very easily from having to holding to withholding. CS Lewis was keen to point out that we as humans couldn’t ultimately claim ownership of anything, even our bodies. Everything came to us as a gift. The writer of Ecclesiastes was just as keen to point out that we could barely control our possessions during our lives and certainly not after our deaths. Clearly there is nothing wrong with enjoying what God has given, but we might better see ourselves as custodians rather tha owners. Seen in those terms, every object becomes an opportunity to serve someone else.

Open House TV reviewer Mark Hadley is the Culture editor at Your.sydneyanglicans.net and Christianity.net.au.

(Rated PG for mild coarse language and sexual references)
 
 
'Sweden's not a verb, it's a country.'  Welcome to the wonderful world of Gondry, the film's screenwriter and director.
 
Michel Gondry, the Oscar-winning, different-minded rock video genie who gave us Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Block Party , has his own Disney-like attachment to fantasy and could be said to be fairly heavily influenced by the magic realism school of lit.
 
The scene is set around an condemned, old-fashioned video store named 'Be Kind Rewind', in an equally old-fashioned New Jersey suburb, Passaic. The shop's touted as the birthplace of jazz great and all-round jovial cat Fats Waller, but what we know for certs is that Fletcher (Danny Glover) lives there with his pseudo son Mike (hip hopper turned thesp Mos Def).

Business is bad, and not helped any when Fletch wanders off, leaving Mike to watch both the store and Mike's mate, neighbourhood weirdo Jerry (the excellently insufferable Jack Black).

Freakishly, the store's complete holdings are wiped through a magnetised Jerry, so the deluded duo have to 'Swede' (i.e. re-shoot) the movies in their own sweet if not twisted manner.  

This is fun, if frustrating; if you discount the existence and supremacy of DVDs you'll get closer to swallowing the premise.

Be Kind Rewind offers a partly-sentimental, partly-caustic, always self-conscious examination of pop culture through the Sweded remakes and the efforts of the community to help save the stores.

Don't go expecting a plausible plot or characters you can easily warm to: this is hilarious at times, and it is always worth keeping your eyes peeled for reverential references to films of yore. The low tech special effects and over-the-top ham acting (you'll never be able to watch Driving Miss Daisy again without smirking)are memorable without perhaps winning over filmgoers completely. 

Hats off to Melonie Diaz for a breakout role as the dry cleaning femme-fatale-next-door turnd leading lady (hence love interest), Alma, and those old burlesque boilers Mia Farrow and Sigourney Weaver for their classy supporting roles.

While this is a beautiful film, visually speaking, and heart-warming in an essentially heartless way, Gondry coulda done with Charlie Kaufman's help here (Gondry shared the Oscar with the quirky writer for Eternal Sunshine). That said, this is a sweet movie that will annoy you at the same time as it endears itself.

 
Catch it quickly before it hits the DVD shelves (I wouldn't be hanging out for a Sweded version on video).
 

(Rated M for moderate themes and sexual references)
 
It’s the early 20th century and a British MD turned bacteriologist named Walter Fane (played by Edward Norton) is on holidays back in England (he works for the Poms in China), when he’s smitten by the pretty, if vacuous and self-centred, Kitty (Naomi Watts).

Fane, a fairly buttoned down sort of science nerd, plights his troth and Kitty takes him up on his offer of matrimony, mainly to get away from her Visigoth of a mother who thinks ol’ Kitty’s marry-by date is almost up. The downside is that Kitty barely knows Walter, let alone loves him.

When the newly weds hit China it quickly becomes apparent they aren’t compatible. Walter is studious and stares at his microscope more than his missus; Kitty loves tennis, dancing the theatre and all manner of frivolity.

Kitty is seduced by sleazy British diplomat Charlie (Liev Schreiber, Watts’ real-life husband). Hubby Walter finds out in a quiet rage and gives Kitty an ultimatum: go through the scandal of divorce as a scarlet woman or accompany him to the centre of a raging cholera epidemic. It’s not the most attractive of choices but Kitty stands by her man and enters a plague-ridden region rather than suffer the stigma of divorce. 

The unhappy couple deals with their relationship alongside the daily death of Chinese adults and children in and out of a catholic nunnery serving as a hospital. The setting offers various possibilities of redemption.

Dinner parties in England, cocktails and adultery in Shanghai and gut-wrenching cholera in the deep inner regions of China's interior—it's a curious mix. This is a combination of historical romance, chick flick, darkly comedic take on relationships and political homily on the age of empire, Mostly it’s a cleverly conceived morality play.

The 'painted veil' reference in the film’s title has nothing to do with the film’s scenery or plotlines. (The movie is based on revered British novelist Somerset Maugham's work of the same name, it’s actually the third film version of his 1925 book.) But the title, which talks about the pretenses between human beings, is actually a quote from a sonnet by the poet, Percy Bysshe Shelley:

‘Lift not the painted veil which those who live
Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,
And it but mimic all we would believe
With colours idly spread,--behind, lurk Fear
And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave
Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew one who had lifted it--he sought,
For his lost heart was tender, things to love,
But found them not, alas! nor was there aught
The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move,
A splendour among shadows, a bright blot
Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove
For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.’

Pretty, huh?
 
This is a beautifully shot film; and the cinematography, together with a beautiful score featuring the Prague Symphony Orchestra, electric cellist Vincent Segal, and virtuoso pianist Lang Lang, helps drive the movie onwards and upwards.

Director John Curran has actually got this big bikkies American film shot in China, which is a big accomplishment. It is beautiful countryside, beautifully captured and the stronger for being set against a hideous disease that kills people by dehydrating them.

On a lighter side, Ed Norton, the Fight Club legend who has not put a foot wrong since his debut alongside Richard Gere in the 1996 courtroom drama Primal Fear, is perfection here alongside Naomi Watts (with an honourable mention for second banana, local Pommy consul Waddington, played by Toby Jones).

Norton’s not known for bunging on non-Yankee tones, but his British accent here is note-perfect. We expect that from modern Aussie actors, it is a rare accomplishment among US thesps.
 
The underlying message of the film, as the wizened old Mother Superior (Diana Rigg) tells Kitty, is that 'when duty and love are one, grace lives within'.
 
The source of the film, ol’ Maugham, reckoned the only love that lasts is the unrequited variety; this film toys with that kind of despondency but offers genuine hope that this need not be so.

This is the best arthousey, Merchant Ivory flick since The English Patient. Enjoy this while ye may.

A bit of historical trivia for you: Watts’ role was first played by none other than Greta Garbo, in 1934.

Barry Gittins

A Win for Tin Sinner

Iron Man (M)

The noughties continues to reign as rthe dace for tinpot superhero movies and the geek nerdboy fans who buy tickets to see 'em. In the case of Iron Man, however, they have expanded the possible audience by packing some serious acting muscle behind the costumes.

Like Dorothy’s metallic mate from The Wizard of Oz, the hero (or anti-hero) Iron Man, or at any rate, his altar ego, millionaire industrialist and munitions dealer Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr), is initially portrayed as a heartless, rather hollow chap. (Kinda what you’d expect from a mechanical genius turned robotics wunderkind who is scared of a real relationship.)

After he is kinapped and critically wounded, and literally has a ‘you beaut’ power pack embedded deep in his chest to keep him alive, even the densest of us filmgoers will ‘get’ the overt symbolism. Dur, Iron man has gootta find his heartsong of truth, justice and a more gentle American way .

For Tony’s emotionally absent, amoral party boy, life was a box of chocolate-coated candy girls. (Stark makes Batman’s altar ego, Bruce Wayne, look like a stay-at-home agoraphobic.) But with Stark’s, um, stark redemption as a human being (via the hand of Middle Eastern terrorists lurking in Afghanistan’s hills, who want him to build a ‘Jericho bomb’- it makes the walls come a tumblin’ down - we find a more likeable, more human character. The little boy lost is gaining some missing qualities.

Encased in robotic armour, Stark turns his back on the arms trade, fights his internal corporate enemies and starts to advance his friendship with platonic love interest, girl Friday, Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow).

While there is some fine work from Ms Paltrow, Terrence Howard as Stark’s military attaché, Colonel Jim Rhodes, and director Jon Favreau (as personal chauffeur Harold ‘Happy’ Hogan), the film belongs squarley to Downey Jr and Jeff Bridges as balded beardy Obadiah Stane, his dubious father figure and business associate (cue the boos).

With Hollywood’s production as hectic as ever, the need for mono-dimensional ‘baddies’ has branched out in the past decade, with Middle Eastern henchmen superseding communists (Iron Man’s original comic-book foes), Nazis, Mafiosi, Redcoats, American Indians etc. While Iron Man’s plot suggests a dodgy alliance of Afghanis, Russians and Iraqis, the film strikes a more intelligent note by showing villainy also resides squarely in the US’ military industrial complex and principally within the human heart.

This is cutting edge tech coupled with lotsa cash and old school chivalry. i'd suggest Iron Mansets a new standard for superhero flicks, in terms of comedic levity and CGI. As well as a few obligatory in-jokes for comic book nerds, Iron Man even manages a first of sorts—a genuinely amusing cameo by Marvel comics supremo Stan Lee, the inspiration behind ‘Ol’ Shellhead’ (wait for the sequel) as well as the key originator of Spider-Man, The Fantastic Four, Ghost Rider, The Incredible Hulk, The Uncanny X-Men, etc.).

This is a funny, 'no-brainer' of a flick brought to life by Downey Jr. It holds the seeds of discussions about power, prestige, love and life, revenge and 'repulsor rays'.

Open House film reviewer Barry Gittins is editor of On Fire magazine, and a regular reviewer for the Salvos' Warcry magazine: www.salvationarmy.org.au/warcry

A good head for Hollywood

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (M)

The obligatory henchmen toss an embattled, bloodied figure to the ground. Gingerly (he is a senior citizen, after all), our hero girds his loins, picks himself up and plonks a dusty fedora back on his scone. Indiana Jones, rising to face his foes. You can't putt a price to that kinda brand recognition and character identification.

Well, actually, you can. The few seconds of screen time it takes to reintroduce Indian Jones (65-year-old Harrison Ford) would cost a few thousand bucks per second, as part of the US$185 million Paramount Pictures invested into Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. And that’s not counting the US$150 million the moguls have spent marketing the action flick around the world. The bottom line (somewhat conservative, judging on the billions gleaned from the first three films) is that the filmmakers need some US$400 million to feel the movie’s a hit. By the 27th of May it had already made more than US$305, 962,920. That suggests Spielberg, Lucas etc. know (and have always known) they are on a winner with the Jones boy. 

I was one of the favoured few to enjoy Indy’s latest (but possibly not ‘last’) romp before it premiered; I can happily report the old bloke can still crack his whip.

It's 1957 and part-time (now tenured) archaeology professor Henry ‘Indiana’ Jones Jr. is yet again in the wars, this time at the hands of those unamused Cold warriors the 'Ruskies, led by Joe Stalin's favourite spymaster, Irana Spalko (a beautifully over-the-top Cate Blanchett).

The common quarry is an elongated Inca relic—a mysterious crystal skull of unknown properties and origins. Intrigued? Don't get too obsessed; plots have always been secondary (if not inconsequential) to the Indiana action sequences. Indy, old spy mate Mac (Ray Winstone) and James Dean wannabe 'Mutt' (Shia LaBeouf) end up with othere odds and bods in Peru, where Indy is reunited with the love of his life, Marion Ravenwood (from Raiders, reprised by Karen Allen).

See Indy run. See Indy duck. See Indy kapow! his way past local opposition and shrink from snakes, bugs and assorted ills as he tries to retrieve the seemingly otherworldly skull.

There are classic stunts, punch-ups, car and motorbike chases, explosions, prat falls and one-liners, more car chases, and assorted 'hoo boy' moments.

It was back in 1989, with The Last Crusade alongside retired thespian Sean Connery, playing as his dad, that we last saw this character, so people were a bit curious as toi how Indy would shape up so long after his last hurrah. (Connery was no coincidence in casting, by the way—Indy creator George Lucas has stated the character was designed as ‘an “Everyman” version of James Bond’.)

The greatest link between the films, beyond the homage to the action serials of the 1930s, is the plot device (or, as Spielberg explains in Hitchkockian terms, the ‘McGuffin’) that brings Indy closer to God and the search for the divine. Messers Lucas, Spielberg, Ford and composer John Williams hit creative paydirt when Indy first went digging around for religious treasures in 1981’s Raiders of the Lost Ark (the ark of the covenant being the biblical luggage that contained the Ten Commandments and other paraphernalia of the Jewish faith).

Indy’s derring-do has always revolved around the mysteries of faith and the search for answers. The evil ‘thuggee’ cult was tackled head on in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984), while Indy tag-teamed with Dr Henry Jones Sr (Connery) to pursue Christ’s legendary cup—the Holy Grail—in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

If prayer is said to be the last resort of the scoundrel, then God is the first resort of popular filmmakers. It’s often the ‘big picture questions’ of faith and doubt that inspire the big (motion) pictures.  

Welcome back to the big screen, Indy; long time no glee.

Open House film reviewer Barry Gittins is editor of On Fire magazine, and a regular reviewer for the Salvos' Warcry magazine: www.salvationarmy.org.au/warcry

Stouthearted badgers, macho mice, dubious dwarves and a conquered kingdom. Welcome to ‘Narnia—the wounded years’.

Those ever-lovin’ ‘sons of Adam and daughters of Eve’—Peter (William Moseley) Susan (Anna Popplewell), Edmund (Skandar Keynes) and the very sweet Lucy Pevensie (Georgie Henley)—are whisked back to Aslan’s land by a horn-blown SOS.

Thirteen hundred years have passed since the Pevensies had left the fabled realm, and they’ve got some derring do to, um, do, to support noble interloper (and their summoner) Prince Caspian (Ben Barnes).

Director, co-screenwriter and producer Andrew Adamson (of Shrek fame) has done a sterling job of adapting the novel for the screen. The liberties he takes (such as the cameo from Tilda Swinton’s ice queen from the first Narnia flick) generally pay off and do not compromise the plot’s integrity.

After Peter Jackson’s Middle Earth sagas and the Harry Potter flicks, moviegoers have exacting standards for action and battle cinematography and CGI characters—these are more than satisfied here as, all the while, Aslan plays hide and seek to test the kids’ faith.

While billed as a family adventure (a rather lengthy one at that) this deserves its M rating for ‘frequent battle violence’. It is principally (screen)written and shot for older children and teenagers.

Open House film reviewer Barry Gittins is editor of On Fire magazine, and a regular reviewer for the Salvos' Warcry magazine: www.salvationarmy.org.au/warcry

Dubbadeedubbadeedubbadeedubbadeedubbadeedubbadeedub...
 
Du duddaaaaaaaah, da!
Du duddaaaaaaaah, duh.
Du du dadad dud du dadad dud du dadada dududududududuu. du du du duuuuuuuuu dop.
 
Every time that theme music blurted out of my telly I was entranced. Would the Chief finally lose his patience and fire Max. Would agent 86 cotton on to the loveydovey eyes the exquisite 99 kept firing at him? And would agent Fang leave poor old 13 alone in that tree costume?
 
In the re-imagining the Cold War is over and Maxwell Smart (Steve Carell) is an analyst, not a field agent. So, Smart is...smart if not 100% competent. Bit of a dissapointment, really, but fear not - as well as being interminably dull, ol' Max is also fairly thick. Don Adams can rest easy.
 
The show comes to life when Control is invaded and all its operatives are done in or identified. The Chief (a feisty Alan Arkin) promotes Max to the big game, where he is partnered by the deadly but gorgeous agent 99 (Anne Hathaway).
 
The plot's predictably mindless and over-used - they gotta chase down some missing nukes from the Ruskies - but it';s the jounrey towards that goal that lends excitement and ludicrous mirth.
 
The film;s laughs are fairly frequent and shared around an entire cast. I dips me lid to Terence Stamp as Kaos's ruthless head and Dwaye 'the rock' Johnson as a muscular Control superagent.
 
rated PG for comedic violence and coarse language, this is not the innocent dopey sight gags and stooopid Get Smart of the TV series, but it doesn't suffer completely in its redesign and pays sufficient homage to please the nostalgic faithful.
 
Steve Carell doesn't try to 'outsmart' the late Mr Adams and - in a crtedible ensemble cast - his is the performance that the show hangs on. It may not reach the heights of Mel Brooks' original TV genius (or his movies for that matter) but it is well-intentioned, fun and cleverly done for the most part.
 
Get out, be seeing these movies; and loving it.

Open House film reviewer Barry Gittins is editor of On Fire magazine, and a regular reviewer for the Salvos' Warcry magazine: www.salvationarmy.org.au/warcry

After a long time no TV, the movie that the fans* demanded be made has finally besieged the big screens of the world. Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) and her gal pals - feisty redhead Miranda (Cynthia Nixon), sultry blonde Samantha (Kim Cattrall) and prissy brunette Charlotte (Kristin Davis) - are unleashed in all their designer glory.
 
Our heroine and narrator Ms Bradshaw has finally landed her paramour, 'Big' (Chris Noth) after years of breaking up and making up. Wedding fever ensues, as the other gals pitch in while simultaneously dealing with their own life crises (and you just know there are going to be some doozies).
 
The film perambulates around the subjects of matrimony, fidelity, intimacy, joy, pain and, not surprisingly, sexuality. None of the big issues are fully resolved, which is a reflection on the realities of the characters' lives perhaps, as well as, possibly, some scripting issues.
 
There are good, life-affirming messages to be found, which may surprise some viewers: the film does serve as a homage to friendship and a reminder of the need to be able to forgive and be forgiven.
 
The big point to be made re friendship is that it is strictly 'girly friendship' (the guys, for the most part, are cyphers or commitment-phobes). Without her crew it's doubtful if poor old Carrie could get out of bed .
 
There is a manic quality of these bonds of camaraderie but that support base is also the source of the movie's strongest (and I'm talking 'surprisingly strong') dramatic and moving scenes. A big wrap goes out to Jennifer Hudson (Dreamgirls) who rolls in as Carrie's new PA, Louise from St Louis.
 
That said, there is also an interminable amount of 'fashion porn' to endure for the dags among us. There are designer labels, couturier dresses and handbags aplenty in a non-stop product placement frenzy.
 
This movie is often tacky but worthy of consideration. There is a market for this kind of nostalgic, femme culturefest as evidenced by the box office takings internationally. But it trudges on for 2 hrs 22 mins. Unless you are a hapless fan of the series (the taste police are on the way) you may want to wait for the DVD. Ladies, please don't drag your fellas to this.
 
Re the title, let's get this clear: the movie earns its MA (mature adults, 15 plus) rating for brief depictions of sex. There are also elements of voyeurism, tacky dialogue and strong language for moviegoers to contend with. It ain't a pic for everyone, nor - definitely - a movie for children.
 
Concerning the sex happ'n'ng in NYC, it is either famine or feast for the characters. There is a sadness, a tawdriness, to the worldview expressed.
 
The film and the church would both agree that a healthy expression of sexuality is vital to the health of individuals and relationships. That said, the church would disagree as to how that 'healthy expression' of sexuality is, well, expressed.
 
Sex, as seen in the film and in the western culture we swim in, is reduced to a commodity. There is incredible body pressure and expectations put on women, in particular, and we are all in danger of being sucked into a vertiginous matrix of constantly wanting more and more for ourselves - more money, more resources, more toys, more pleasure, more freedom, more friends, more power - which invariably leaves less and less for others.
 
Ultimately, the film follows the mantra that success and pursuit of happiness are gained at the expense of another. Selfishness and self-absorption are constant companions of the fab four. They do transcend those 'travelling fools' at times, but you tend to regret the melodramatic damage done along the journey.
 
* Here follows the reviewer's declaration of selflessness (cue the violins): I am not a fan. On behalf of you, dear readers, I saw this for Sheridan and the review process. Sitting through SITC rates as the most noble sacrifice this poor servant has undertaken in some time (akin to a visit to an especially inept dentist).

Open House film reviewer Barry Gittins is editor of On Fire magazine, and a regular reviewer for the Salvos' Warcry magazine: www.salvationarmy.org.au/warcry

Where in the World is Osama  Bin Laden? (M)

Reviewer: Barry  Gittins

This quaint, often hilarious  little travelogue reminds us that Morgan Spurlock is a very funny guy who is  willing to do all sorts of things to himself (remember the McDonald’s-loving  doco Supersize Me?) to get his point across. 

Self-disclosure is again  the catalyst for Spurlock’s movie: his wife falls pregnant and the world as he  knows it—complete with al-Qaeda supremo, terrorist yet hero to some Muslims,  Osama Bin Laden—is not a safe place.  

In 1996, against his  wife’s better judgement, Spurlock trained up and got his injections before  whooshing around the world to track down Bin Laden to make the world a safer  place for the new bub. The ensuing phone conversations with ‘the missus’ back  home keep a sense of balance to Spurlock’s musings, and lend an emotional  authenticity to his stunts and visual treats.  

And the treats keep on  coming: apart from some fancy dress and the odd camel ride, Where in the  World offers video/computer games (you will gain a new respect for facial  hair), baseball card rankings of the baddies, and—the ultimate universal  deterrent to villains—country music.  

‘When you’re dealing  with something that is as incredibly heavy and dense as terrorism and bin  Laden,’ Spurlock opined about the film’s treatment of the subject matter, ‘I  think you need to take the gravity out of the situation. We see all the sadness  on the news every day. Is there a way where people can be entertained and still  get some information out there?  

‘I tried to make it fun  while at the same time trying to demystify this person that so many people look  up to. I really think if you can make someone laugh you can make someone  listen.’  

This premise allows for  a multitude of bizarre interviews and experiences (including a frenzied,  ramped-up ‘How to survive assault and abduction’ course) with folks in  Afghanistan, Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Morocco, Pakistan, Palestine, Saudi Arabia  and the US.  

This reviewer found the  sentimental nature of the film, which could have been off-putting, actually  ingratiates itself to filmgoers because Spurlock is genuinely interested in the  lives and opinions of people he meets along the way.  

It’s as if Spurlock  wants to revisit the 1980s homily of singer/songwriter Sting; the Muslims, just  like the Russians during the Cold War, ‘love their children, too’.  

Mind you, there is no  lack of gravitas when called for: the movie’s most poignant scene comes when  Spurlock visits a bombed-out schoolroom a half-hour or so after the  attack.  

Spurlock, a very  charming man and shrewd filmmaker and documentarian, portrays himself as an  innocent hick abroad: sort of a ‘Mark Twain’ (two bob) short of a cunning  jihadi-hunter. 

His theme can be summed  up by the Elvis Costello track he deploys to great effect: What’s so funny about  peace, love and understanding? 

Rated M for conflict  themes and coarse language, Where In The World is a timely reminder that  the underlying problems of terrorism and hatred will not be resolved with the  death or capture of a single zealot. Barry Gittins

Highlight: Morgan  Spurlock’s much-shown capacity to find a common humanity with other  nationalities.

Red flag: A predictable  but somewhat lame end to the chase.

 
Open House film reviewer Barry Gittins is editor of On Fire magazine, and a regular reviewer for the Salvos' Warcry magazine: www.salvationarmy.org.au/warcry

You remember the 1980s, surely? It was largely the decade of 'chop sokky' - Hong Kong's finest martial artists, and the host of western wannabees who clung to the dragon's tale (think Chuck Norris, Dolph Lundgren, Jean Claude Van Damm, Steven Segal, Patrick Swayze, Wesley Snipes, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera....).

The new Jackie Chan and Jet Li movie The Forbidden Kingdombrings us the best of martial artists (i.e. Chan and Li) in a tale that will be vaguely familiar for all those who spent hours glued to the TV watching Monkey Magic (based on Buddhist mythology).  The Monkey King (played by Jet Li) has been imprisoned in stone for being, well, a cheeky monkey. Thankfully there’s a young lonely boy in real life Boston, named Jason (played by Michael Angarano) who finds himself attacked by bullies and mysteriously transported to ancient China. His mission? To return the magical staff of the monkey king, freeing him, defeating the jade warlord (Collin Chou) in the process.

To get there he needs a bit of help from his friends, notably a warrior monk, also played by Li, and an old drunk who just happens to be a kung fu master named Lu Yan (played by Jackie Chan). The movie is spiced up by the good guys’ lady companion, the feisty Sparrow Girl (played by Yifei Liu), and the wicked femme fatale Ni Chang (played by Li Bing Bing), who memorably gets her own way by using her bullwhip and her magic hair.

This film owes a lot to the themes in the Karate Kid films of the 80s, where the little scrawny kid masters the arts of self-defence to help others. There is also a strong debt to The Wizard of Oz, as the hero learns he needs to fulfil a quest to get back home. You almost expect young Jason to click his ruby red slippers and skedaddle back to Boston.

This is the first time Chan and Li have worked together, and they share great chemistry and some memorable fight sequences (and the odd sight gag). In fact these guys could spend the whole movie sparring and people would still pay to see it. There is a physical grace and dexterity to their performances, more than any great depth of characterisation (that kind of comes with the territory of Jackie Chan movies). As it is, the film's sparse plot allows for extensive and extensively-choreographed fight scenes.

The film's ladies also hold their own in mortal combat, with some impressive moves and the obligatory wire work. The movie is as good as it is because of fight choreographer Yuen Wo Ping, who set up the battles in so many huge films; all the Matrix movies, the Kill Bill films, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

The film's message is not highly significant. This kiddies'/teenyboppers' action film is 'philosophy lite', really, a bit like Diet Coke or Pepsi Minimum. There’s the odd reference to Buddhism and Zen and Jackie Chan tells his young mate at one stage : 'don’t think, just do’ That’s easy to say when you’re having a quiet chat but if someone is raining blows down on your noggin it might be a bit more difficult to zone out. There is a strong emphasis on loyalty and justice. Perhaps the film's biggest message is that revenge is a futile exercise that only rebounds on us; hurting us when we seek it.

The godlike character of the Jade Emperor finds some common ground between Christianity and Buddhism. The film speaks strongly on the importance of free will and making and honouring our own choices. Also, this character, in particular, resonates with Judeo-Christian theology in that the presence of 'God' is not separate from our lives, but in fact suffers alongside us.

The Forbidden Kingdom got a PG rating for ‘Martial arts violence and infrequent coarse language’. Admittedly it’s no bloodbath, but I don’t find it ‘mild’ when stuntmen, actors and makeup artists simulate shoving darts or arrows through people’s necks. I’d have preferred to see it with an M rating for mature audiences. That said, this is an hour and 45 mins of light entertainment, with some very skilful martial arts moves and some very graceful twirling on wires. Would make a good night out for the boys.

Open House film reviewer Barry Gittins is editor of On Fire magazine, and a regular reviewer for the Salvos' Warcry magazine: www.salvationarmy.org.au/warcry

If you are going to see Journey to the Center of the Earth, see it while it's still showing (dur, Barry) and see it in 3-D.

This is great fun for kids, and amusing for anyone prepared to switch their brains off re the science. (The idea of eco-systems living in eco-systems, encaspulated in air bubbles, is beautifully twee, while the premise that dinosaurs are still around, drooling as they roam the earth's core, doesn't really play that well to anyone.)

Sad scientist Trevor Anderson (Brendan Fraser) lost his bro, also, coincidentally, an adventurous scientist, some years back in mysterious circumstances (his disappearance is 'central' to the plot...sorry). Trev takes his bro's kid, Sean (Josh Hutcherson) and jumps on a plane to Iceland, the last known whereabouts of said rellie. They hook up with beautiful mountain guide Hannah (Anita Briem) to check out some seismic shift monitors and, bing bang bong, before you know it they are rock and rolling into another world.

This movie, as with earlier and more melodramatic efforts, is based on the book written by Jules Verne back in 1864. In a very cute shuffling of plot cards, it turns out the missing bro is a 'Vernian' - someone who believes Jules Verne's writings are factual (or 'science faction'). They use the missing bro's copy of the novel as a guide throughout their adventures. Just don't get stressed as to how the novel and made its way back 'topside' but the bro didn't.

Highlights to watch out for are the 'falling' scene and it's bookend piece, where Our Heroes rise back to the surface world. While battles with carnivorous plants are merely ho hum, the T Rex chase and an aquatic fight with freaky fish and sea monsters are equally riveting.

The mention of the sea scenes raise the question of the 'fun factor' of 3D: it may cost a tad more to see it in this format, but if you are due an outing then why wouldn't you spend a few extra shekels, knowing a lot of the stunts and choreography was consciously and effectively designed to utilise the 3D magic? Kids rightly love that stuff. That said, the movie overall still works in '2D': director Eric Brevig excels at set action pieces (he's the bloke who devised the action sequences in movies such as Men in Black and The Day After Tomorrow).

There is no huge moral to the story, which plays lip service to themes of abandonment and loss, hope and the need to cling to your dreams.

Rated PG for action adventure and some scary scenes, this film offers bloodless violence (not counting plant goo) and batting practice - you are unlikely to be genuinely scared or shocked, but you may end up with sore ears from Brendan Fraser's yelping.

Journey to the Center of the Earth has already made more than 100 million US. It's more than 90 minutes of childlike, occasionally childish, fantasy. 

Barry Gittins

PACKED TO THE RAFTERS: TV Review by Mark Hadley

The Seven Network has a heritage of marketing to the middle ground. It is the family station, full of household improvements, lifestyle features and feel-good drama. So it’s no surprise that Seven is also the home of Packed to the Rafters, a new one-hour tale about the trials of baby-boomers coping with an unexpected influx of adult children.

The question is, will the series rise about the sentimentality of forbears like Always Greener, or the simplistic morality of Home & Away? The answer may lie in its early commitment to the concept of truth.

Julie and Dave Rafter are the veterans of 25 years of marriage and the parents of three adult children. The series begins with them looking forward to that modern nirvana for Australian baby-boomers, the ‘empty nest’.

However even as their final child takes flight, the family is struck with a series of tragedies that sees a sudden influx of unexpected, long-term house guests. Their daughter returns home to escape an abusive boyfriend; the youngest son and his new wife arrive looking for a shelter from mounting financial woes; and the unexpected death of Julie’s mother sees Grandad take up residence. The result is drama heaven:  a house full of frustrated dreams complicated by adult insecurities.

Packed to the Rafters is not your traditional escapist drama. To begin with episode storylines often run concurrently, so viewers keep travelling back in time to see difficult family days from the perspective of a different house member. It’s a neat tool for demonstrating that households are often dealing with more than one crisis at a time.

But more importantly, the series avoids the usual selection of quirky characters and sets its sites firmly on exploring the anxieties of the middle class. Dave Rafter (Erik Thomson) struggles to reinvent himself after a late-life retrenchment and Grandad Taylor (Michael Caton) provides some career performances as a comfortably retired man coming to terms with the loss of a life-partner.

However the most familiar member of the cast is the grim spectre of financial collapse that stalks the young as well as the old. It is a character that many Australians, particularly Sydneysiders have become all too familiar with. Nathan Rafter (Angus McLaren) struggles under the burden of tremendous credit card debt, and Julie Rafter (Rebecca Gibney) is kept awake at nights wondering how she will pay the mortgage now her husband has lost his job.

For the Rafters and many other Australians, the golden years of financial security promised to all hard workers still seem to be somewhere over the horizon.

The Rafter family solution, though, is to pin their hopes to the power of truth. Nathan realises that the pride that keeps him maintaining the fiction of his financial success is threatening to undo his marriage. “Not telling the truth was the problem,” he tells the viewer. “It was the ticking time bomb that was threatening to blow us apart.” Julie realises that her marriage has problems when she comes to the conclusion that, “Some subjects were still off limits even with the person I normally talk to about everything.”

In every episode so far the Rafters have learned that even the most humiliating truths are better than destructive deceptions, particularly self-deceptions. It is also incredibly refreshing to view a series that presents small lies as the beginnings of betrayal rather than the regrettable necessities of day-to-day life.

Packed to the Rafters has its limitations – what series doesn’t? Mum and Dad Rafter seem to approve, even admire their children’s sexual explorations and the announcement that they are moving in with their partners is invariably celebrated like the news of an engagement.

But for a society that has basked in the deceptive freedom of postmodernism for so long, it is good to watch a show that steadfastly presents truth as its own reward. Episodes often end with the key crisis unresolved. But the relationships remain sound because the people involved have been honest about their problems – which is, of course, the first step to dealing with them.

One step is lacking though if Packed to the Rafters is going to be truly useful to modern Australia. The sort of honesty we really need is that which admits the problem, then admits that we aren’t capable of finding a solution on our own.