REEL TIME
Reviews for Waiheke Cinema by Gemma Korff
SIX INCHES OF SOIL
One Screening Only: followed by a panel discussion on issues raised in the movie and local regenerative and organic supply & distribution.
Six Inches of Soil is a captivating documentary that delves into the world of agroecology and regenerative farming. Through the lens of remarkable farmers, communities, and entrepreneurs, the film paints a vivid picture of courage, vision, and hope.
The documentary introduces us to young British farmers who challenge the industrial food system. Their journey involves healing the soil, improving our health, and supporting local communities. With approximately 178,000 farmers managing 71% of the UK’s land, their impact is significant. By adopting regenerative practices, they restore biodiversity, sequester carbon, and provide affordable, wholesome food.
Six Inches of Soil inspires us to rethink our relationship with the land, showing that small changes can yield profound results. Anna Jackson, a Lincolnshire 11th generation arable farmer, exemplifies this transformative movement. Her commitment to healing the soil echoes throughout the film, leaving viewers hopeful for a more sustainable future.
BACK TO BLACK
This intriguing drama offers an intimate glimpse into the life and artistry of Amy Winehouse, the brilliant London soul singer. Directed by Barnaby Thompson, this film delves beyond the tabloid headlines, revealing the woman behind the iconic beehive and soulful voice. It’s a bittersweet journey—one that celebrates her talent while acknowledging the darkness that consumed her.
Back to Black is a gentle tribute. While it may not match Asif Kapadia’s documentary Amy, it provides a different perspective. Marisa Abela’s performance as Amy is sweet-natured, capturing her essence and the vulnerability beneath the bravado. Jack O’Connell’s portrayal of Blake Fielder-Civil adds depth to a complex character who played a pivotal role in Amy’s life.
As we watch Amy perform “Back to Black” on stage, her voice echoing through time, we’re reminded of her brilliance and the tragedy of her untimely departure. The film doesn’t shy away from her struggles with addiction and mental health, but it also celebrates her artistry and the raw emotion she poured into her music.
CIVIL WAR
Civil War defies easy categorisation. Directed by Alex Garland, this film is a mesmerising blend of psychological thriller, dystopian drama, and journalistic exposé. It premiered in the US to both raves and pans, sparking heated debates among critics and audiences alike.
Set in a future United States ravaged by civil unrest, Civil War follows four journalists who are obsessive war correspondents that thrive on the quest for the scoop. These reporters care less about political meanings and more about being first on the scene, even if it means putting themselves in harm’s way. Kirsten Dunst portrays Lee, a legendary photojournalist with a haunted past. Her lens captures the raw brutality of war zones, but her personal demons threaten to consume her. Jack O’Connell embodies Blake Fielder-Civil, her no-good husband and addiction-enabler. Their lives intersect against a backdrop of epic violence, crumbling institutions, and political turmoil.
Garland’s film is a portrait of pure reporters who chase the scoop at any cost. It echoes classic movies about journalists covering foreign countries’ collapse, but it adds a futuristic twist. The film’s pacing mirrors the dopamine-fueled rush of danger, capturing the adrenaline-fueled mentality of those who document chaos without considering its real-world impact. The stark visuals with the rumbling cityscapes, smoke-filled streets, and shattered monuments all underscore the film’s bleak atmosphere.
Civil War is a furiously convincing and disturbing experience. It doesn’t hold back. The violence is visceral, the moral dilemmas gut-wrenching. Garland’s direction is unflinching, plunging us into the heart of darkness alongside Lee and Blake. Kirsten Dunst delivers a haunting performance as Lee, her eyes reflecting the horrors she witnesses. Jack O’Connell’s portrayal of Blake Fielder-Civil adds depth to a complex character torn between loyalty and self-destruction.
For lovers of thought-provoking cinema, Civil War is a must-watch. It beckons us to explore beyond the mundane, to seek answers in the chaos, and to recognise that sometimes the most dangerous battles are fought not on the frontlines but within our own souls.
MAD ABOUT THE BOY
Noël Coward—playwright, composer, actor, and wit—was a man of many facets. Directed by Barnaby Thompson, Mad About the Boy unravels the enigma that was Coward. It’s a fascinating journey through the 20th century, where public personas hid private struggles, and where artistry danced with vulnerability.
The film draws from a treasure trove of archival material with letters, interviews, and rare footage. It captures Coward’s autodidactic upbringing, his razor-sharp wit, and his fear of outing himself in a less accepting era. Rupert Everett’s voice as Coward adds depth, while Alan Cumming’s narration provides context. We witness Coward’s rise from humble origins to megastardom, his plays gracing West End stages, his songs echoing through smoky cabarets.
Mad About the Boy is a melodic ode to contradictions. Coward’s brilliance shines through with his biting satire, his sentimental ballads, his effortless charm. Everett’s performance as Coward captures his essence and his inner struggles, and thus adds nuance to a man who defied conventions.
As we delve into Coward’s personal life with the covert gay identity and the clandestine affairs, we’re reminded that even the most urbane façades hide vulnerabilities. The film doesn’t shy away from his complexities; instead, it celebrates his legacy—the enduring tunes, the sparkling repartee, the legacy of a 20th-century great.
Mad About the Boy invites us to revisit Coward’s world with nostalgia and admiration. It’s a reminder that behind every witty line lies a deeper truth—a longing, a contradiction, a humanity that transcends time.
GOODBYE JULIA
Goodbye Julia, directed by Mohamed Kordofani, weaves a poignant narrative against the backdrop of a divided nation. Set in Khartoum during the twilight years before South Sudan’s secession, this film explores love, guilt, and the fragile threads that bind us.
Mona, a former popular singer from the North, grapples with guilt over a southern man’s death. Together with her husband, Akram, they employ Julia, the unsuspecting widow, as their maid. Julia, a Christian, carries her own burdens, unaware of the tangled web she enters. Their lives intersect, revealing the complexities of Sudanese society—its divisions, its scars, and its yearning for redemption.
Kordofani’s lens captures the stark beauty of Khartoum—the dust-laden streets, the whispers of history, and the tension that simmers beneath the surface. The film’s pacing mirrors the slow unravelling of secrets, drawing us into a world where every glance holds weight. Sudan’s political turmoil serves as a haunting backdrop, amplifying personal struggles.
Goodbye Julia thrives on restraint. Eiman Yousif (Mona) and Siran Riak (Julia) infuse their characters with quiet intensity. Mona’s guilt manifests in every note of her silence, while Julia’s resilience hides a well of grief. Kordofani avoids melodrama, allowing their performances to breathe. The film’s emotional crescendo is subtle yet devastating.
The narrative unfolds like a delicate dance. Mona’s guilt, Akram’s indifference, and Julia’s resilience intersect, revealing the human cost of division. Kordofani’s storytelling mirrors Sudan’s fractured soul, where love and loss blur the lines between North and South. The film’s climax is a testament to the power of forgiveness—a fragile bridge over troubled waters.
THE IMMORTALS
ArtBeats The Immortals: The Wonders of the Museo Egizio transports us to the heart of Egyptian mythology, where the sands of time intertwine with the secrets of the pharaohs. Directed by Michele Mally and narrated by the venerable Jeremy Irons, this documentary immerses us in a tale that spans millennia.
The film begins with Kha, an architect and tomb builder for the pharaohs, embarking on a perilous journey to the Underworld. Eternal life hangs in the balance, yet the risk is dissolution into cosmic nothingness. Jeremy Irons guides us through this odyssey, weaving together Egyptian mythology and the history of the Museo Egizio in Turin.
From the grandeur of Giza to the mystique of Luxor and Karnak, we traverse the Nile’s banks. Alongside Italian explorers and archaeologists, we follow the footsteps of those who collected the treasures now housed in Turin. Ramesses II, Tutankhamun’s treasure, Nefertiti’s enigmatic bust, the Red Scribe in the Louvre, and the Rosetta Stone in London—all these artefacts come alive in our quest.
The Immortals transcends mere history. It delves into the soul of ancient Egypt, where gods and mortals danced in a cosmic ballet. The cinematography captures the sun-kissed sands, the labyrinthine tombs, and the Nile’s serpentine flow. Each frame whispers of eternity, inviting us to ponder our place in the grand tapestry of existence.
Michele Mally’s direction is reverent, allowing the artefacts to breathe. The juxtaposition of Irons’ narration with the artefacts’ silent testimony creates a symphony of wonder. As we gaze upon the Rosetta Stone, we glimpse the key to deciphering lost languages. When Nefertiti’s gaze meets ours, we feel the weight of her enigma.
For lovers of history, mythology, and the enigmatic Nile, The Immortals is a treasure trove. It beckons us to explore beyond the mundane, to seek answers in hieroglyphs, and to embrace the timeless quest for meaning.
KUNG FU PANDA 4
“Did the world really need another ‘Kung Fu Panda’ movie?” This question lingers as we revisit Po, the lovable Dragon Warrior, in his fourth outing. While lacking the delicate artistry of its predecessors, Kung Fu Panda 4 still manages to entertain, especially for younger audiences. With the school holidays on the horizon, that is all a child-friendly movie needs to achieve.
Po faces a new challenge: he must take over as the spiritual leader of the valley, a role previously held by the late Master Oogway. Meanwhile, a shape-shifting sorceress named the Chameleon seeks to steal Po’s Staff of Wisdom. To stop her, Po enlists the help of Zhen, a thieving fox with knowledge of the outside world. Their adventure leads them into plenty of scenarios that only a panda trained in the art of Kung Fu can manage.
The franchise’s signature animation style remains intact, with vibrant colours and dynamic action sequences. However, the film leans more toward slapstick humour than the spiritual depth we’ve seen before. Awkwafina’s Zhen provides comic relief, although her wise-cracking sidekick role feels familiar. Sometimes the humour undermines the action, however not many children will notice nor care about the difference.
Despite its flaws, Kung Fu Panda 4 delivers important messages. Accepting change, doing the right thing, and building trust are central themes. Po’s growth as both student and teacher continues, and his bond with Mr. Ping and his biological father adds heart to the story. Po remains true to his original message of achieving greater heights than anyone expects, simply because he does not give up on the impossible.
While not reaching the heights of its predecessors, Kung Fu Panda 4 is a perfectly acceptable family film. It won’t redefine the genre, but it reminds us that even in familiar adventures, there’s room for growth and laughter.
THE MOUNTAIN
In the quiet valleys of New Zealand, where ancient legends intertwine with the whispers of the wind, Rachel House’s directorial debut, The Mountain, emerges as a rare gem—a film that bridges generations, cultures, and the ethereal connection between humans and nature.
Young Sam (Elizabeth Atkinson) faces a daunting battle: cancer has taken root within her fragile body. Her desperate hope lies in the majestic Taranaki Maunga, an imposing mountain that looms large in the landscape. Sam believes that if she can reach the summit and commune with the mountain, it might heal her. But she is not alone on this journey.
Enter Mallory (Reuben Francis), a grieving boy still mourning the loss of his mother. His heartache is palpable, and he clings to the memory of her love. When Sam and Mallory cross paths, their fates intertwine. Together, they embark on a quest to the heart of Taranaki, seeking solace and answers.
Bronco (Terrence Daniel), another newcomer, joins their unlikely trio. Neglected by his father, Bronco clings to his Māori heritage—a connection that resonates with Sam’s longing for something greater. As they hike through lush forests and across rugged terrain, their shared grief becomes a bond, and the mountain watches over them like an ancient guardian.
The Mountain delves into themes of loss, resilience, and the healing power of nature. Rachel House’s heartfelt handling of these themes prevents the film from descending into gloom. Instead, she infuses it with hope and the joy of friendship. The young leads—Atkinson, Francis, and Daniel—deliver remarkable performances, capturing the essence of childhood camaraderie. Their interactions are genuine, their struggles relatable.
Bronco, with his self-confidence and environmental awareness, steals scenes. He understands the impact of plastic waste, yet remains blissfully unaware of the impracticality of carrying his BMX bike along a bush track. Mallory, the shy boy with a penchant for sensible decisions, balances the trio. And then there’s Sam, whose determination borders on the absurd—like asking a fellow child for a gun.
But the true star of the film is Taranaki itself. More than a mere backdrop, the mountain embodies Māori wisdom. It stands as a living entity, a testament to the interconnectedness of all life. Cinematographer Matt Henley captures its majesty in breathtaking shots, each frame a tribute to Taranaki’s grandeur. Whether shrouded in mist or bathed in sunlight, the mountain becomes a character—an ancient ancestor guiding our protagonists.
The Mountain is an ode to resilience, friendship, and the enduring spirit of New Zealand. Rachel House’s deft direction, combined with the natural beauty of Taranaki, creates an immersive experience. It’s a film that resonates with audiences of all ages, reminding us that healing lies not only in medicine but also in the embrace of nature’s ancient whispers.
In a world where family-friendly Kiwi films are scarce, The Mountain stands tall—a beacon of hope against life’s shadows. Let its whispers echo in your heart long after the credits roll.
THE CONVERT
In the rugged landscapes of 1830s Aotearoa, where the echoes of musket fire still reverberate, Lee Tamahori’s The Convert weaves a tale of survival, where strength prevails and violence pulses through the veins of the land. The breathtaking vistas, captured by cinematographer Ginny Loane, set the stage for a primal struggle.
British missionary Thomas Munro (Guy Pearce) arrives in a small Pākeha settlement uncomfortably close to the crossfire between two warring iwi. His mission: to bring salvation to the indigenous people. But salvation proves elusive when he finds himself in a hostage negotiation with tribal leader Akatarewa (Lawrence Makoare), pleading for the life of the other leader’s daughter, Rangimai (Tioreore Ngatai-Melbourne). As tensions escalate, Munro grapples with his faith, caught between cultures and conflicting loyalties.
While the New Zealand Wars would later ravage the land, it’s the lesser-known Musket Wars that haunt this tale. The death toll during these intertribal conflicts dwarfs that of subsequent wars. Tamahori, the director behind the iconic “Once Were Warriors,” masterfully captures this tragic chapter in New Zealand’s history.
Pearce, ever reliable, portrays Munro with proper manners and good intentions. His character skirts the edge of the White Saviour trope, yet Pearce infuses him with vulnerability and nuance. As Munro navigates the treacherous waters of colonialism, he grapples with the weight of his beliefs.
Munro’s brief romance with Charlotte, played by a fantastic Jacqueline McKenzie, adds an interlude between the struggles for power, but ultimately it subtracts from the story as a whole. The cast is outstanding, there is no doubt about that, however the script does split away from the main point every now and then.
While the narrative occasionally meanders, the heart of the conflict remains compelling. The film’s strength lies in its depiction of cultural clashes, where tikanga (customs) clash with colonial arrogance. As the tension escalates, we witness the collision of worlds: the Māori’s ancestral connection to the land versus the Brits’ transient presence.
The Convert may not be a flawless epic, but it is a compelling glimpse into a tumultuous era. Cinematographer Loane’s visual prowess elevates the film, particularly in the bush scenes where nature and culture come together as one. While the storyline occasionally falters, the gritty battle sequences and committed performances keep us engaged.
The Convert immerses us in a world of strife, where faith and tradition collide. It’s a film that resonates beyond its historical setting, reminding us that redemption often comes at a cost.
GHOSTBUSTERS: FROZEN EMPIRE
In a city where paranormal activity is as common as yellow taxis, the Spengler family steps up to the proton pack once again in Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire. Directed by Gil Kenan, this supernatural comedy takes us back to the iconic firehouse, where nostalgia meets high-tech ghostbusting gear. That alone will bring many punters to their cinema seats, and curiosity on how Kenan will keep up with the original will keep people there.
The film opens with a pulse-pounding chase scene through the streets of Manhattan. Phoebe (played by the talented Mckenna Grace) zips around in the revamped car Ecto-1, her proton wand crackling with energy. But alas, the rest of the movie struggles to maintain that initial adrenaline rush. Instead, it tries to lure people in with a great cast.
Paul Rudd injects humour as Mr. Grooberson, a seismologist who’s more excited about earthquakes than ghosts. And yes, Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Ernie Hudson, and Annie Potts return, their presence like a warm hug from the '80s. But with so many characters vying for screen time, the plot becomes as tangled as a Slimer-induced spaghetti mess.
While the original Ghostbusters cast steals the spotlight, keep an eye out for the spectral cameos. The ghostly hot dog vendor who serves phantom franks with a side of ecto-ketchup, and the librarian ghost who now haunts a digital library, and many more.
The iconic Ecto-1, now upgraded with futuristic gizmos, deserves its own spin-off. From its sputtering engine to the neon-green trim, this vintage ambulance turned ghost-hunting machine has more personality than some of the human characters. Even if the whole script gets a bit convoluted, there are many parts to the story that stick out enough to make this film a worthwhile watch- at least, more so than its awkward predecessors that tried to capture the magic of the first film.
Frozen Empire tries to balance fan service with fresh storytelling, but it occasionally stumbles. The weightier tone—less anarchic than the original—may leave die-hard fans yearning for more ectoplasmic chaos. Still, the film’s heart is in the right place, and the nostalgia factor alone makes it worth a watch. The original film did not have an in-depth script either, so it makes sense just to let flaws of both wash over your head and just enjoy a great movie experience.
In the end, Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire may not capture lightning in a proton trap, but it’s a fun ride down memory lane with an extra zing. Just don’t cross the streams—unless you’re feeling particularly daring.
THE INNOCENT (L'INNOCENT)
Louis Garrel, known for his sultry charm both on and off-screen, takes a delightful detour into directing with The Innocent. This romantic comedy heist caper serves up equal parts amour and intrigue, sprinkled with a dash of caviar.
Abel (played by Garrel himself) is worn down in life, his melancholy eyes hiding secrets. His mother, Sylvie (Anouk Grinberg), teaches acting at a prison—a peculiar choice for a woman who dreams of the stage. When Sylvie falls for Michel (Roschdy Zem), a talented student and convicted thief, their lives take an unexpected turn.
The streets of Paris become the backdrop for a flower shop, a front for Michel’s less-than-legal activities. Noémie Merlant adds spice as Abel’s best friend, who instead of backing Abel in his outrage, sees how happy his mother is and encourages Abel to go on a heist with Michel instead. The chemistry between the cast is spectacular and adds great momentum to the well thought out script.
As Abel and Michel tiptoe around each other, the film explores the delicate dance of attraction and deception. Sylvie, with her acting background, becomes the unwitting accomplice in their clandestine affairs. The flower shop becomes a meeting ground for stolen glances and whispered confessions, all while customers browse bouquets oblivious to the drama unfolding behind the counter.
Garrel’s direction keeps us guessing. Is it love or larceny? The plot twists like a Seine river current, and just when you think you’ve figured it out, another layer peels away. This film is thoroughly engaging, especially compared to other predictable movies that have come out in recent times. There is something captivating about a film that does not treat the adult viewer like a child, leaving people to figure out their own theories before the actual one comes into play. And then there’s the caviar. Yes, it’s an obsession. Yes, it’s Gallic. And yes, it’s the secret ingredient that binds this quirky romcom together.
The Innocent may not be a cinematic masterpiece, but it’s a pleasurable watch. Garrel’s playful approach and surprising storyline make it a delightful addition to the genre. So grab your popcorn and let love—and perhaps a stolen truck—lead the way.
WICKED LITTLE LETTERS
In a small village around 1920, Edith Swan is rudely awakened from her polite, civil way of life by a vulgar letter. Rose Gooding lives next door, and is rudely interrupted from her boisterous way of life by an accusation that she is the owner of the obscene pen. Before the post came along, the two barely came across one another, but now they must come to understand one another to find the true culprit.
As the scandalous letters multiply in Littlehampton, we’re drawn deeper into the web of intrigue. The film’s pacing is reminiscent of a well-orchestrated dance, and allows us to savour each revelation. Who is the elusive letter writer? Why do they target seemingly innocent townsfolk? The suspense builds, and we find ourselves playing detective alongside Edith and Rose.
Olivia Colman’s portrayal of Edith is a masterclass in restraint. Her prim exterior conceals a maelstrom of emotions: the shock, the indignation, and the determination to unmask the culprit. Jessie Buckley, as Rose, adds a delightful layer of chaos. Her unabashed swearing and devil-may-care attitude provide comic relief, but beneath it lies vulnerability. Together, they form an odd-couple duo that keeps us invested.
Wicked Little Letters isn’t just about expletives; it’s a commentary on societal norms. The letters serve as a pressure valve, as a way for the repressed to rebel. In a world where politeness reigns supreme, the profane becomes revolutionary. The film nudges us to question our own inhibitions, to ask what lies beneath our veneer of civility.
Director Thea Sharrock brings this delight to screen and it is an instant success, not only because it is fantastic comedic material, but because the story is based on a true scandal that occurred in 1920. The stranger-than-fiction storyline is perfect fodder for the silver screen, however Sharrock’s comedic twist is what keeps the minutes whirling away to the end. Together with the ideal casting, this film is perfect for a night out, just make sure to freshen up one’s ears after the screening.
Wicked Little Letters is a whimsical delight, a film that dances on the edge of decorum. It invites us to embrace the unexpected, to revel in the absurd, and to recognize that sometimes, the most profound truths are hidden in plain sight.