Bosch & Rockit is an enjoyable, visually striking Australian coming-of-age picture that deserves a wider audience. It is the feature film debut of Australian filmmaker Tyler Atkins, who served as director, writer, and producer after years of minor film and television credits (and winning The Amazing Race Australia in 2011). An autobiographical tale, Atkins based the screenplay on his experiences growing up on the Gold Coast with a drug-addicted father, an absent mother, and a passion for surfing, as the director believes the ocean saved his life. The resulting story is powerful and moving, a compelling and technically proficient motion picture about a teenager wanting to find a family while using the ocean to escape the harsh realities of his life. With no studios willing to back the project, Bosch & Rockit (or Ocean Boy, as it is also called) was a privately-funded independent feature, and it is a rare win for the Australian film industry.


Bosch (Luke Hemsworth) runs an illegal marijuana farm on a beach community along the NSW North Coast and often neglects his responsibilities as a parent, leaving teenage son Rockit (Rasmus King) to his own devices. Rockit loves to surf, finding solace in the waves as he grapples with his dysfunctional home life and academic problems at school. When a bushfire reveals Bosch's weed farm and makes him a person of interest to police, he promptly takes Rockit and hits the road, heading for Byron Bay to hide out while telling his son they're on holiday. Bosch and Rockit begin carving out a life for themselves in Byron Bay, with Bosch meeting the kindly Deb (Isabel Lucas) while Rockit bonds with the endearing young Ash-Ash (Savannah La Rain). Unfortunately, corrupt police officers are also looking for Bosch and hope to reach him first, threatening the pair's newfound stability.

It is easy to care about Rockit from the movie's early stages thanks to the enormously effective performance from newcomer Rasmus King (15 years old during shooting), a professional surfer who shows miraculous acting instincts that make him a perfect fit for the production. With Atkins shooting the film chronologically, King appears to grow and mature as the story progresses, and his innocence continues to fade. Bosch & Rockit touches on weighty issues, with Rockit experiencing bullying as he grapples with his intellectual shortcomings while wanting to become a better student. Childhood neglect is another of the script's heavy thematic undercurrents, as Bosch is often unprepared to make time for his son, while Rockit's mother does not want to take care of him, leaving Rockit to raise himself (which reflects Atkins's own experiences).


Despite the youthful Rockit at the centre of the story, Bosch & Rockit is not a children's movie. Although the story could be ideal fodder for school studies with its relatable themes, the excessive profanity means this movie earns its MA15+ rating in Australia. However, the swearing does not feel gratuitous; instead, the dialogue feels true to the characters. After all, Australians talk like this in everyday life. Bosch & Rockit is full of humorous banter that features profanity (neither Bosch nor Rockit is shy about using the dreaded c-word) and amusing Aussie slang (including "rockspider" and "grommet"), and the terrific cast gives convincing life to the colourful characters. Luke Hemsworth (brother of Chris and Liam) is enormously convincing as the inadequate and insecure father, while Isabel Lucas makes a fantastic impression as an appealing woman who enters Bosch's life. Another standout is young Savannah La Rain as Ash-Ash. It is easy to understand why Rockit is immediately drawn to her.

Although Atkins and his crew shot Bosch & Rockit during the COVID-19 pandemic, the picture bears no signs of a lockdown-affected production. Australian cinema is not exactly well-known for pleasing aesthetics, but Bosch & Rockit is notable for its slick visual delights that belie the meagre budget. The extraordinary digital cinematography by the experienced Ben Nott (Danger Close: The Battle of Long Tan, Predestination) beautifully captures the NSW North Coast, ensuring nobody will mistake the movie for a cheap television production or soap opera. The attention to period detail is also impressive, with the story taking place at an indeterminate time in the late 1990s before smartphones and tablets. Bosch & Rockit looks incredibly cinematic, and Atkins understands the fundamental filmmaking rule of "show, don't tell" to effectively establish character traits and relationships. Atkins favours mood and atmosphere over intricate plotting, staging vignettes as Rockit navigates his troubled life with its tremendous ups and heartbreaking downs. Luckily, the editing by industry veteran Scott Gray (The Boys Are Back) is smooth and confident, setting and maintaining an agreeable pace that ensures the picture does not devolve into tedium. Shrewd soundtrack choices further elevate the movie, including Dragon's "Are You Old Enough?" and The Living End's "Prisoner of Society," while Brian Cachia's original score perfectly sets the mood.


Admittedly, Bosch & Rockit begins to wear out its welcome in the final act, with Atkins seemingly unsure how to end the story with all of its dramatic baggage, presumably reflecting the reality of his own troubled upbringing. There are other tiny imperfections - such as unconvincing digital flames and banknotes that look too stiff - but the flaws are minor. Wisely, Atkins avoids a conventionally happy ending, even refusing to follow through with a romantic subplot that could have ended in the titular characters living a more regular and stable life. Instead, Bosch & Rockit closes on a satisfying note of optimism, even if the dialogue in the final scene is a tad cheesy. Atkins gets far more right than wrong in Bosch & Rockit, creating a hidden gem of a debut feature that is among the best Australian movies of the decade.

7.9/10

Moana 2 feels like soulless, assembly-line, commercially-focused, corporatised content that only exists for maximum box office dollars instead of a desire to tell a worthwhile story. This follow-up to 2016's endearing Moana started life as a Disney+ miniseries, but the House of Mouse changed course in early 2024 to rapidly rework the project as a theatrical sequel with barely nine months until release. The resultant picture feels like a lacklustre succession of simplistic vignettes that lack a cohesive through-line and, more importantly, are devoid of emotion and meaningful character arcs. Television and film are two different mediums, and merely smashing together a collection of TV episodes does not create an engaging or emotionally satisfying feature film. Let's put it like this: the Dug Days show on Disney+ is a fun and sometimes emotional continuation of Pixar's Up, but simply joining the episodes would not result in a dramatically successful big-screen Up sequel - it only works as a short-form TV show.


Moana (Auliʻi Cravalho) still lives on her island nation of Motunui, and she spends her time exploring other islands in the hope of finding other communities and people connected to the ocean. When one of her ancestors visits her in a vision, Moana learns about the island of Motufetu, which connected all the islands across the sea but was sunk by the vengeful storm god Nalo. Additionally, Moana's ancestor warns that unless she can find a way to raise Motufetu from the depths, everyone in Motunui will go extinct. Moana sets off with a selection of crewmates, along with her pet pig and rooster, Pua and Heihei (once again voiced by Alan Tudyk, who continues to provide lively clucking), to save their island community. Of course, Moana eventually reunites with the demigod Maui (Dwayne Johnson), who happily helps his old friend complete her quest.

Although the screenplay is credited to Jared Bush (who wrote Moana) and co-director Dana Ledoux Miller (a TV writer whose credits include, um, Thai Cave Rescue and Kevin Can F**k Himself), everything about Moana 2 feels like the work of AI. The dialogue is generic and witness, the characters are hollow and meaningless (I cannot name any of Moana's crewmates), and the songs are thoroughly unmemorable. With Lin-Manuel Miranda not returning as the sequel's songwriter, the musical numbers here fail to make an impact, and you will forget about each song before it has even finished. The songs should be catchy and move the story forward by contributing insights into the characters or the story, but the musical numbers here only slow down the story's momentum and pad out the feature's 100-minute running time.


Revealing its origins as a television show, Moana 2's narrative feels jarringly episodic, and the quest is not compelling enough despite what's at stake. Not helping matters is the lack of a proper antagonist - heck, the bat lady known as Matangi (Awhimai Fraser) even disappears in the third act after the story establishes her as someone who's apparently important. Plus, Moana and Maui are just there on the screen, with Disney hoping their mere existence will put bums in seats (and, alas, the $1 billion box office haul proved them right), but they do not change or learn meaningful lessons, and Maui's contributions to the story are so minor that he feels heartbreakingly interchangeable instead of essential. For a character so iconic (Johnson is even playing the role in live-action), it is depressing that Maui does not have a single memorable scene or line of dialogue. The voice cast gives it their all, with Cravalho (reprising her role from the first movie) giving spunk and personality to Moana while competently handling the singing. The songs might be unremarkable, but Cravalho's singing voice is lovely. Meanwhile, Johnson makes very little impact here, which is all the more surprising considering his notorious ego that normally hijacks every project to make his character the primary focus.

Animation for a major, big-budget studio release should not look this cheap. Moana 2 was the first animated feature to be animated and produced at Disney's new production facility in Vancouver, which was only established to churn out budget-friendly content for Disney+. Although the texturing on backgrounds and fabric looks sufficient, and there are some visually striking moments in the third act, the movement looks slightly off, particularly the mouth movements that look like the work of AI algorithms. Facial expressions also look a tad strange. Disney admitted to using AI in the animation process, touting it as a way to revolutionise how animated movies are made, though the extent of AI usage remains a mystery as the wording in press materials is deliberately vague. If Moana 2 remained a streaming show, the animation would look adequate, but there is no reason for a $150 million theatrical feature to lack the visual "wow" factor that animated movies should achieve. A theatrical sequel should not look like a visual downgrade from its predecessor...especially with an eight-year gap between pictures.


The only aspect of Moana 2 with any passion behind it is the portrayal of Polynesian culture, as the filmmakers conducted extensive research into the cultural history and traditions of the Pacific Islands during the film's development. Anthropologists and historians contributed to the picture, and the research provided a foundation for the story. The filmmakers reportedly listened to the experts, using their insights to fine-tune the story and ensure an accurate and authentic depiction of the Western and Eastern Polynesian cultural nuances. Keeping all this in mind makes the disappointment of Moana 2 sting all the more, though at least the original Moana authentically represents Polynesian culture while also being a genuinely good movie. There are some interesting ideas in Moana 2, and some isolated scenes stand out (Heihei's antics are amusing, and the return of a fan-favourite character during the mid-credits scene is a hoot), but there is no reason for the movie to be so dull and lacklustre. I wanted more of Moana after seeing the first movie, but the set-up for Moana 3 at the end of this sequel left me unmoved and unexcited. Unfussy children might enjoy the flashy colours and cute characters of Moana 2, but they deserve better - check out Inside Out 2 or The Wild Robot instead.

4.9/10

A survival horror movie like 2024's Never Let Go needs a strong emotional core and engaging central characters to succeed. John Krasinski's A Quiet Place remains a standout genre offering because of its compelling characters and sharp writing, which make it easy to become invested in what transpires. Unfortunately, despite Never Let Go's intriguing and creative premise, the movie falls short of its potential because it is difficult to care about the characters or their plight. With Alexandre Aja (High Tension, 2006's The Hills Have Eyes) at the helm, the picture is exceedingly grim in tone and execution, as the director refuses to lighten the mood with shrewd moments of humour and levity, and there is no emotional hook. As a result, it's an uninvolving exercise in striking horror visuals that cannot sustain its leaden 100-minute running time.


Momma (Halle Berry) lives in a secluded cabin in a large forest with her two sons, Nolan (Percy Daggs IV) and Samuel (Anthony B. Jenkins). According to Momma, a sinister supernatural entity known as "The Evil" has spread across the world and wiped out humanity, and they are the only survivors. If the Evil touches you, you "go bad" and harm others. Momma and her boys venture into the forest daily to forage for whatever food they can, from frogs to tree bark, and they remain connected to their cabin with a rope that keeps them safe from the Evil. The boys must also recite a chant when re-entering the cabin to keep the Evil away. Momma is the only one who can see the Evil, and the force continually taunts her with supernatural visions of dead loved ones, fuelling the matriarch's obsession with keeping her boys safe. However, Nolan grows curious about the situation, wondering if Momma is telling the truth as he begins untying himself from the rope to see what happens. Although Nolan suspects Momma is lying, Samuel remains devoted to her teachings, convinced that the danger is real.

It is clear that screenwriters KC Coughlin and Ryan Grassby (who have a few minor credits to their name) were thinking about franchise potential from the get-go, and Berry has already confirmed that story ideas for sequels and prequels have been written. Never Let Go vaguely defines the Evil in broad strokes as the story unfolds from the perspective of the two children, who seem equally unsure about the entity's capabilities and need to trust their mother's word about its existence. To the film's credit, it becomes more compelling in the final act as the question lingers about whether Evil actually exists and if Momma is telling the truth as Nolan begins pushing the boundaries. However, it closes with a confusing and surprisingly unexciting climax full of trite moments as Aja tries to make us question what's real and what isn't. The only question I kept asking myself was, "Who cares?"


There is no denying Halle Berry's commitment to the film, as she disappears into the character of Momma and is hardly recognisable. The problem is that she is so relentlessly depressive and dour, without a hint of charisma to make her feel human. Although such a character can work in a supporting capacity, she is a wholly uninteresting main character. Since the story is more about the children struggling to survive and learn more about the Evil, they should pick up the slack and give us a reason to care, but unfortunately, they are wholly interchangeable. Again, there is nothing inherently wrong with the performances by newcomers Percy Daggs IV or Anthony B. Jenkins, but the lack of personality - a flaw seemingly imparted by the screenplay - results in hollow, one-note plot ciphers instead of interesting characters.

Aja's execution of the material is state-of-the-art, from the lush locations and Maxime Alexandre's slick cinematography to the unnerving creature design and thick sense of atmosphere. The only technical drawback is the unconvincing CGI flames, but this is not hugely problematic. Unfortunately, this is all mere window dressing that cannot compensate for the script's glaring shortcomings, and the pacing is highly lackadaisical, with too many scenes that do not contribute meaningful information or develop the characters. Aja is in arthouse mode here, striving to create an "elevated" horror movie in the A24 mould (down to folklore links), but such an approach denies any B-grade thrills that might have made the flick more entertaining. In short, Never Let Go is a maddening chore to sit through, with Aja only occasionally enlivening the material with creepy or sinister moments but never managing to make us care.

4.0/10

Over twenty years after the events of 2003's Gettin' Square left the authorities assuming that Johnny 'Spit' Spitieri (David Wenham) is deceased, the international fugitive returns to his home country of Australia on a fraudulent passport. Border officials promptly detain Spit and attempt to ascertain his true identity, sending him to an Immigration Detention Centre along with a few refugees seeking Australian residency. Spit's return immediately catches the attention of corrupt policeman Arnie DeViers (David Field) and career criminal Chicka Martin (Gary Sweet), who recognise that Spit could send them both to prison if he decides to testify against them. Similarly, investigators at the Criminal Investigation Commission (CIC) see Spit's resurgence as an opportunity to reopen their old investigation and finally convict DeViers for his corrupt conduct. While DeViers and Chicka try to orchestrate Spit's demise through their inside connections, the hapless ex-con makes new friends in the detention centre, including a refugee named Jihad (Arlo Green), and he tries to conduct English lessons.


Legacy sequels are a tricky proposition, especially for a cult item like Gettin' Square that seemingly did not leave much room for a follow-up. However, returning screenwriter Chris Nyst and director Jonathan Teplitzky find fertile narrative ground by switching the focus to the titular Spit and delving into unfinished business from the first movie. Promoting a scene-stealing supporting character to the protagonist is also tricky, but the creative decision feels sufficiently motivated, and Spit benefits from fantastic writing and a sharp sense of humour. Let's not mince words here: this is a very, very funny movie that made me laugh out loud frequently and heartily. Teplitzky hits the ground running with Spit shamelessly shoplifting at an airport before his capture and interrogation, and the belly laughs scarcely stop throughout the picture's brisk 100-minute duration. It is hilarious to watch Spit try to teach English to refugees despite his tenuous (heavily bogan-esque) grasp of the language (and spelling), while Spit's interactions with border officials and investigators are equally side-splitting. Spit is the most consistently funny Australian comedy in a long time (perhaps since Kenny in 2006), and the volume of gags puts most of Hollywood's recent comedic output to shame. Happily, the humour is also genuinely witty and seemingly effortless, and it never feels like the actors are wildly improvising or simply mugging the camera for laughs.

Although Spit deals with criminals, it is a change of pace compared to Gettin' Square. Instead of a humorous heist picture, this follow-up focuses on Spit as he navigates detention and deals with personal issues, including his little sister, Julie (Sofya Gollan), and young nephew. Despite a considerable part of the narrative occurring in a detention centre and following refugees, Spit is not a political movie. Instead, it is a movie about Australian values, particularly mateship and the right to a fair go, and Wenham's non-judgemental Spit is the perfect vehicle to reinforce these messages without devolving into controversy or divisiveness. Additionally, the subplot about Spit's sister and nephew gives the former drug addict a renewed sense of purpose, and the material complements the humorous set pieces with genuine heart.


Despite the two-decade gap, Spit brings back most of the creative team from Gettin' Square, including producer Trish Lake, cinematographer Garry Phillips, production designer Nicholas McCallum, and make-up artist Tess Natoli, among others. Director Teplitzky brings the same infectiously enjoyable energy to Spit, including shrewd use of music to drive the proceedings and create memorable set pieces. (Like Gettin' Square, this sequel opens with a montage.) Teplitzky makes the most of a modest budget, shooting in and around the Gold Coast and even using some original sets from the first movie. Most interestingly, instead of filming at an actual detention centre, the production shot at a Queensland quarantine centre that was purpose-built during the COVID-19 pandemic to house returning citizens, but it was hardly used.

Several Gettin' Square cast members return here, each with an important and organic part to play in this story. Front and centre is the iconic Wenham, who's exceptional as Spit, effortlessly slipping back into the role of an uncivilised bogan wearing thongs and eccentric clothes (including a pair of maternity jeans that Wenham himself sourced from a charity shop in London). The schtick does not get old, with Wenham's distinct voice and body language remaining a constant source of amusement. His dialogue is frequently funny, while Wenham also delivers a few memorable moments of physical comedy, such as an erratic dance that is intercut with CIC investigator Niall Toole (David Roberts) reading Spit's 2003 arrest warrant. Teplitzky eventually brings Spit back to the courtroom, where he fixates on minor details yet again, stalling proceedings until his grievances are acceptably resolved. The scene is a fun callback to the memorable courtroom scenes in Gettin' Square ("Excuse me, who's paying for my bus fare today?"), but it thankfully does not feel forced or gratuitous. Other returning actors include Aussie acting veteran David Field, who is still as despicable as ever as DeViers, and Helen Thomson, who scores a few laughs as the now-widowed Marion Barrington. Some notable absences include Avatar star Sam Worthington (he was probably busy filming the sixteen sequels), while Timothy Spall's role of the now-deceased Darren 'Dabba' Barrington only features in photographs.


Despite its connections to its predecessor, you can still watch Spit without having seen Gettin' Square, as this movie confidently stands on its own as a satisfying, heartfelt comedy. However, fans of Gettin' Square will, of course, get the most out of Spit since it is a fun reunion with several colourful returning characters. Spit is also an enormously charming win for the Australian film industry. At a Q&A following a preview screening of the movie at Sydney's Hayden Orpheum Picture Palace, director Teplitzky emphasised that he and Wenham would like to see more people supporting the industry by going to the cinema. Although Spit is a lightweight comedy that may not look like the type of movie that demands the big screen experience, it is worth seeing in a cinema with like-minded film-goers. Indeed, the picture is a side-splitting crowd-pleaser guaranteed to become a cherished cult favourite like its predecessor.

7.9/10

Illumination and Universal Pictures continue to make a lot of money from the Despicable Me franchise, branching out into Minion-centric prequels, a web series, short films, video games, a holiday special and even a theme park attraction. Nevertheless, it is becoming increasingly difficult to care about the movies after 2013's disappointing Despicable Me 2 and the equally forgettable Despicable Me 3. Unsurprisingly, 2024's Despicable Me 4 fails to revivify the series, but not because it feels like a lazy cash grab. On the contrary, the screenplay (by Mike White and franchise veteran Ken Daurio) bursts with intriguing ideas, expanding the lore and introducing several potentially fascinating plot threads, but there is simply too much going on here. With the script devising individual adventures for the central characters, directors Chris Renaud (who co-directed the first two flicks but only produced the third movie) and Patrick Delage tackle numerous plotlines without fully exploring or meaningfully connecting them within a coherent narrative.


A devoted family man and a diligent agent for the Anti-Villain League, Gru (Steve Carell) attends a reunion at his alma mater, Lycée Pas Bon, where he encounters his former class rival, Maxime Le Mal (Will Ferrell). Maxime holds a longstanding grudge against Gru and has turned himself into a cockroach hybrid with superpowers, but the AVL promptly arrest him, thwarting his plans for world domination. But when Maxime escapes from prison with the assistance of his girlfriend, Valentina (Sofia Vergara), he develops a weapon that transforms people into cockroach hybrids and turns his attention towards getting revenge on Gru. As a precaution, Gru and his family - including wife Lucy (Kristen Wiig), newborn son Gru Jr. (Tara Strong), and adopted daughters Margo (Miranda Cosgrove), Edith (Dana Gaier), and Agnes (Madison Polan, the third actress to play this role) - enter witness protection. As Maxime tries to find the family, they have their own troubles adjusting to life in the suburbs, with young neighbour Polly (Joey King) recognising Gru and blackmailing him into helping her with a heist.

Introducing the Mega Minions (a focal point of marketing) is one of the most promising developments here, with the AVL turning a few of the little yellow guys into superheroes. However, the movie does virtually nothing with the superpowered Minions aside from an irrelevant, though admittedly funny, sequence during which they fail to save a city and cause ample collateral damage, allowing the creative team to parody superhero cinema. But the most interesting aspect of Despicable Me 4 is the Lycée Pas Bon school, which is hidden away in the mountains and is essentially Hogwarts for aspiring supervillains, but again, the script does nothing with it. Instead, the school only serves as the backdrop for a heist set piece that also introduces the principal, Übelschlecht (director Chris Renaud), who has a high-tech wheelchair and is determined to prevent anybody from stealing the school's beloved honey badger mascot.


Properly investing in the story of Despicable Me 4 is impossible since the film consistently and erratically switches between plot threads, including Agnes questioning the morality of lying about her identity, Gru bonding with his newborn son, Lucy trying her hand at hairdressing, Maxime trying to get revenge on Gru for stealing his talent show act in the ninth grade, and more. These ideas deserve proper development, but the movie haphazardly glosses over everything, with too many characters vying for screen time. In theory, the way the directors breeze through everything over the feature's 95-minute runtime should, at least, result in fast pacing, but the lack of coherency and emotional resonance makes this sequel feel strangely leaden and unengaging. As a result, the experience feels aloof, and the directors keep us at arm's length. The sharp narrative focus of the original movie is sorely missed here.

The most expensive Despicable Me instalment to date, this fourth picture is expectedly visually lavish, but fluid and attractive animation is the absolute bare minimum at this point, especially with the mindboggling advances in animation techniques in the fourteen years since the first movie. Nevertheless, Despicable Me 4 does have its moments of ingenious invention, with amusing Minion antics as they continue to fulfil as many jobs as possible, while Gru needs to use his baby supplies to pull off a heist after mixing up his bags. However, several scenes fall flat, including an uninspired tennis match between Gru, Lucy and Poppy's wealthy parents, complete with a Minion umpire. Plus, the script lacks the side-splitting dark humour of the first movie. Sure, Gru no longer has a mean streak after becoming a father, but there are other villains here. On a more positive note, Despicable Me 4 brings back composer Heitor Pereira and musician Pharrell Williams, the latter of whom contributes another original song destined for endless radio air time: the incredibly catchy "Double Life." The jaunty music is still infectiously enjoyable.


Despicable Me 4 brings back most of the original cast, from Steve Carell and Kristen Wiig as Gru and Lucy to Steve Coogan as the AVL's retired director, Silas Ramsbottom. With seven years separating the third Despicable Me and this fourth picture, a new actress takes over to voice Agnes, who seemingly never gets older (neither do Margo or Edith, for that matter). Romesh Ranganathan also takes over from Russell Brand to play Dr. Nefario in a tiny cameo appearance. The most notable newcomer here is Will Ferrell, who plays the villainous Maxime. It is surprising that it took so long for Carell's Anchorman co-star to join the Despicable Me franchise, and Ferrell refuses to phone it in; instead, he goes for broke with manic, over-the-top energy. Unfortunately, with Despicable Me 4 trying to do too much, Maxime fails to make much of an impression with limited screen time, making the character feel tragically forgettable. Other actors join the fray, including Joey King and Sofia Vergara, but their appearances do not amount to much.

Despicable Me 4 is bursting with potential, particularly as the key ideas behind the movie will appeal to long-time fans of the series: more Minion antics, a colourful bad guy, a school for supervillains, and Gru engaging in villainous escapades while trying to maintain a healthy family life. However, the resulting sequel is a jumbled, discordant mess that lacks narrative cohesion and never coalesces into a compelling story. Despite the occasional comedic highlights, Despicable Me 4 is an enormous disappointment; another disposable, forgettable sequel that fails to recapture the lightning-in-a-bottle magic of the 2010 picture that spawned one of the most lucrative animated franchises in history. The law of diminishing returns is in full effect here, with this instalment easily the weakest in the ever-growing franchise so far.

5.4/10

September 5 is another dramatisation of the 1972 Munich Olympics massacre, but it offers a different and compelling viewpoint. Whereas Steven Spielberg's Munich was about the aftermath of the attack as Mossad agents assassinated the terrorists responsible, September 5 is an account of the events at the Olympic Village as they happened in 1972 from the perspective of the ABC Sports crew whose media coverage attracted hundreds of millions of viewers worldwide. Director Tim Fehlbaum (2021's The Colony) does not show the violence or shootouts that unfolded during the hostage crisis, instead concentrating on the reactions of the news crew as they receive accounts of what is happening from those on the ground. It is a tricky notion to orchestrate an engaging drama that perpetually takes place within the confines of a cramped newsroom decked out with analog broadcasting equipment, but Fehlbaum rises to the challenge, robustly executing the screenplay he co-wrote with Moritz Binder and Alex David. September 5 is a gripping, edge-of-your-seat period thriller that presents a tasteful dramatisation of the tragic events, buoyed by an exceptional cast and superb technical execution, making it one of 2024's standout motion pictures.


Optimism is high for Munich's 1972 Summer Olympic Games, with the West German government eagerly hosting the game to portray the country more favourably. The ABC Sports crew are in the country to cover the event, with channel president Roone Arledge (Peter Sarsgaard) and operational head Marvin Bader (Ben Chaplin) overseeing the complex technological task to televise the Olympic Games to the rest of the world. Stepping into the newsroom to continue orchestrating the live coverage is Geoffrey Mason (John Magaro), a rookie who is enthusiastic about becoming a director. When the team hears gunshots early in the night, they promptly investigate to find out what is happening, with local translator Marianne Gebhardt (Leonie Benesch) even listening to police radio broadcasts. Upon discovering that the Palestinian terrorist group Black September have taken the Israeli Olympic Team hostage, Mason scrambles to cover the event, facing broadcast cameras at the Olympic Village and covertly sending in a crewmember (Daniel Adeosun) to record 16mm footage from within athlete-only areas. With ransom demands coming out and a deadline approaching before the athletes lose their lives, the ABC Sports crew grapple with ethical considerations and limited satellite time as they try to maintain their coverage, with Mason desperately wanting to broadcast each scoop as it arrives.

Fehlbaum swiftly establishes the characters and their personalities before the crisis breaks out, ensuring viewers can easily discern who's who within the newsroom. An excellent cast tremendously aids the movie, and the lack of A-list superstars underscores that the performers were selected for their talent instead of their bankability. The likes of Sarsgaard and Chaplin make fantastic impressions, but Magaro (who was an extra in Spielberg's Munich) is arguably the star of the show, convincingly portraying confidence and nervousness throughout the ongoing situation. Since filming took place in Germany, the movie also features terrific European talent, with German actress Benesch making the most significant impression as a translator who is eventually assigned to help cover events on location.


The production's verisimilitude is overwhelming, with September 5 featuring extensive archival footage from the event. Editor Hansjörg Weißbrich (She Said) effectively intercuts footage of the actors with actual news reports (ABC's Jim McKay features prominently in archival footage) and media coverage, including 16mm material shot by ABC camera operators from inside the Olympic Village as the hostage crisis unfolded. Fehlbaum does recreate some material out of respect for the victims, as the crew understandably felt it was inappropriate to include footage of the real terrorists or hostages. However, it is genuinely difficult to discern the difference between the dramatisations and the archival material, with an astonishing sense of authenticity pervading virtually every frame. Additionally, with the production team going to great lengths to recreate ABC's newsroom in Munich, the resulting set bursts with authenticity, from the low-res monitors and the cameras to the vintage headphones and playback equipment. September 5 never leaves the newsroom, but the scope does not feel disappointingly restrictive as the movie creates a sense of the bigger picture through the media coverage at the Olympic Village and later at the nearby military airport.

Cinematographer Markus Förderer (who worked with Fehlbaum on The Colony) captures the action with Paul Greengrass-esque immediacy, opting for steady, engrossing handheld photography that further solidifies the "you are there" illusion. Although Förderer shot September 5 with digital cameras, the use of specific vintage lenses to soften the footage, combined with precise colour grading and thick film grain, creates an astonishing illusion, as the picture looks like genuine celluloid instead of a digital approximation of 16mm film. Förderer also uses the newsroom monitors to remarkable effect, as the screens provide a distinct but not overwhelming lighting source in the cramped space, and the imagery on the monitors is often reflected in characters' glasses. With the movie coming in at a reasonable 94 minutes, September 5 does not outstay its welcome, and interest seldom wanes as Fehlbaum stages tense exchanges as the characters feel the pressure and grapple with the gravity of the crisis, with human fallibility also inevitably creeping in. The director even mines fascinating material from the behind-the-scenes workings of news broadcasting in the 1970s, from sharing satellite time with other networks to the analog method for adding captions to news footage.


Understandably, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict makes the timing of September 5's release uncomfortable for some, particularly with the conflict causing much controversy and political unrest. However, Fehlbaum wisely avoids political grandstanding and condemnation, never using the material to make a statement on the ongoing Israel-Palestine conflict or draw clumsy parallels. Instead, September 5 is more about the ethical implications of broadcasting news that is shocking, violent and politically charged, with the crew emphasising the necessity for emotions over politics and discussing the possibility of on-air hostage executions and whether or not to broadcast unconfirmed reports, even with on-air caveats about the veracity of those rumours. Additional underlying themes relate to the Munich Olympic Games' significance, as the West German government hoped the event would provide catharsis after the Second World War by showing the country was eager to host other nations in a peaceful, democratic, uplifting setting. This material offers thought-provoking underpinnings to elevate the movie beyond a simple technical exercise. Instead of drab Oscar bait, September 5 is a sharp and thrilling feature brimming with anxious energy that recounts an important event from a compelling new perspective.

8.4/10

How can a filmmaker make another "ghostly presence in a haunted house" horror movie feel original and fresh? For Presence, writer David Koepp and director Steven Soderbergh (reteaming after 2022's Kimi) achieve precisely that by telling the whole story from the perspective of the spirit through a series of extended point-of-view shots. Soderbergh, who temporarily retired from filmmaking over his frustrations with the industry's lack of innovation, guides the story with a sure hand, orchestrating thrills and creating a thick, pervasive sense of atmosphere, making the low-budget feature (it only cost $2 million) feel more like an indie film than a mainstream horror flick. The resulting movie is not packed with big set pieces or endless jump scares, as Presence is more interested in characters dealing with domestic problems and dysfunctional relationships. It is not exactly an "elevated" horror film like The Babadook - instead, Presence is a psychological thriller with a mystery at its core.


While searching for a new place to live, Rebekah (Lucy Liu) and Chris (Chris Sullivan) pounce on a sizeable home in a good neighbourhood, moving into the residence with their two children, Chloe (Callina Liang) and swim champion Tyler (Eddy Maday). However, an invisible apparition already inhabits the house and silently observes everything, soon making itself known to Chloe, who believes the spirit is benevolent instead of evil. Chloe mostly withdraws from the family after losing her best friend to a drug overdose, while her parents encounter marriage trouble as Rebekah is committing financial fraud at work. Tyler also makes a friend in Ryan (West Mulholland), who soon connects with Chloe, a notion that the Presence seemingly disapproves of.

Avoiding the banal monotony of In a Violent Nature (a slasher film from the killer's perspective), Koepp and Soderbergh have an interesting story to tell for those with the patience to stick with the deliberately paced narrative. More than a simplistic horror movie about a poltergeist randomly appearing and terrorising a family, Presence has a few surprises and twists up its sleeve, with the apparition serving a legitimate purpose in the narrative beyond wreaking havoc. Plus, as the spirit silently observes the characters and their conversations, the movie provides crucial information about the family and their domestic situation without forced, unnatural dialogue. Koepp's script even has an answer for the usual "Why don't they move out?" crowd, even after the apparition reveals itself to the family. Although Rebekah broaches the topic of leaving, Chloe refuses to move because she believes the Presence is friendly, and Chris chooses to stand by his daughter by staying in the house. Admittedly, however, Presence incorporates a few well-worn genre staples, including a psychic medium who comes to help and investigate during the picture's weakest scene. Additionally, there is insufficient payoff for an intriguing subplot about Rebekah engaging in illegal activities at work, but these are the only real shortcomings.


Captured with smooth long shots by Soderbergh, who served as cinematographer and editor (under his usual pseudonyms, Peter Andrews and Mary Ann Bernard), Presence establishes a thick sense of atmosphere, while the photography deliberately makes the titular Presence feel like an unwelcome voyeur with unclear motivations. The house feels authentic and lived-in, with realistic lighting instead of obvious, over-the-top soundstage lighting, underscoring the feeling that Soderbergh's camera is observing a real family in their home. Equally worthy of praise are the special effects, as Soderbergh convincingly shows the unseen Presence interacting with objects around the house, from moving books to pulling down shelves and toppling dozens of trophies. The seams are invisible, making it unclear whether the director achieved these moments using CGI or shrewd practical effects with digital assistance to remove wires and crew. The impressive sound design further assists the production, and Zack Ryan provides an effective score that does not lean into jump scares.

With recent movies like Unsane, No Sudden Move, Kimi and now Presence, Soderbergh continues to prove himself as a reliable purveyor of fascinating and innovative features, making it all the more fortunate that the filmmaker did not stay in self-imposed retirement. Instead of another by-the-numbers ghost tale, Presence is a compelling, visually unique psychological thriller with terrific performances from a cast of recognisable performers and newcomers. The only well-known star here is Lucy Liu, who submits a nuanced, realistic performance and comes across as a highly believable suburban mother who dotes on her high-achieving son. Presence feels like an auteur movie all round, with Soderbergh ensuring viewers will not mistake it for a Paranormal Activity sequel.

7.9/10