I have, over the
years, received a bit of criticism for being hard on Australians in this
column. I’ve even been accosted at the bar and accused of promoting “Hatred and
Racism” — at least I think that was what she said, I’m not sure why any
one would accuse me of promoting “Rice-jism.”
Of course,
everyone knows “Australian” is not a race, it’s a nationality, and I’m
notoriously hard on all nations (mainly the European ones but I’ll take shots
at Mexicans, Yanks, Eastern Canadians, everyone really). However, since Baz
Luhrman’s new epic
Australia
is now playing let’s hype up the land down under a bit.
First, their
national anthem is pretty key and as the only human-populated country that’s also
a continent (sorry Antarctica) Australia has produced some fine actors –
Mel Gibson may lack social tact but watch
Gallipoli, Mad Max
and the first five minutes of
Lethal
Weapon
and you’ll see a
top-notch thespian. Heath Ledger was truly amazing and should get a posthumous
Oscar nomination this year for his rendition of the Joker. It’s official,
Aussie dudes can act.
But it’s the
Australian actresses that really float my boat. Naomi Watts – can she be
any hotter? Or more talented? She even made
The Ring 2
watchable. Or what about Olivia Newton
John? If you’re older than 28 you can’t deny she was an integral part of your
adolescence– for girls it was probably her role in
Grease
, for dudes it was the gatefold album
cover to “Physical.” And speaking of boats,
Titanic
is not the best boat movie ever, that
honour goes to
Dead Calm
starring
Aussie Nicole Kidman (she’s fallen off a bit since then but Nicole used to kill
it). Cate Blanchett is probably the best actress in American cinema, she’s also
Australian.
And like that
cheesy transvestite song from
Priscilla Queen of the Desert,
I’ve saved the best for last –
Isla Fisher, Borat’s wife. She was actually born in South Africa but was raised
in Australia and has that perfect mix of humour, wit and beauty that may or may
not be directly related to sun, surf and the availability of Tim Tams and
Caramello Koalas. Regardless, if there were an Olympics for acting, the Aussie
chicks would clean up every time.
So I guess I
like Australia, the country, and not the Baz Luhrman movie, which is pretty
boring and kind of reminds me of
City Slickers
.
Switching gears,
the always-fantastic Whistler Film Fest hits most screens in town this weekend
but on Sunday the Village 8 opens
Punisher War Zone
, a flick so bad-ass and ultraviolent
that it makes up for the two lame-ass Punisher movies that preceded it. Maybe
because this one’s directed by a woman, Lexi Alexander, who at age 19 was the
world kickboxing champion. Lexi knows how to take, and dish out, all kinds of
pain.
And this
Punisher
has more pain than ever before. Frank
Castle’s family was mowed down by the mob and the torment drives him to commit
balls-out, neck snapping, eyeball puncturing, shotgun-blast-to-the-face acts of
total awesomeness. This is Punishment doled out in neon-glowing, four-colour,
comic book glory. I wish I could take this movie back in time and give it to a
15-year old version of myself for Christmas. Then me and all my Aussie friends
could make popcorn and geek out rewinding the part where the old lady’s head
gets turned into a pulpy crater.
Oh wait, I don’t have any Aussie friends, they all moved back to Oz right when I was starting to really get into them. Perhaps that’s why I’m hard on the Australians — they’re so damn ephemeral.
