Taken from here.

“How does he go before the Australian people dressed in the clothes of a Liberal leader and deny more than 20 years of Liberal engagement with the science of climate change?” she said.

Mr Abbott then took another point of order.

“The question was about the Lodge, not the dodge – that’s what it was.”

After outlining her belief in climate change and the need for a price on carbon, Ms Gillard launched another attack on Mr Abbott.

“If he wants to debate political honesty in this place, then bring it on,” she said.

“Did he go to the Australian people before the last election telling them about his $11 billion black hole?”

Amid roars from the Opposition benches and futile attempts by Mr Jenkins to restore order, the Prime Minister went on.

“Did he go to the Australian people before the last election saying [Pauline Hanson's] One Nation would write his economic policy?” she said.

“Did he go to the Australian people before the last election saying senior members of his frontbench like the shadow treasurer would agitate for the return of WorkChoices? No he did not.

“So if we want to have a debate about political honesty then bring it on, Mr Speaker, bring it on because we have the most hollow man with the least conviction sitting in the Opposition Leader’s chair we’ve ever seen in this Parliament.”

The thing about being in your twenties is that you can barely keep track of the years as they whiz by. I mean, it’s been nearly 12 years since The Matrix came out. (Yes, ‘Whoa!’ is the appropriate response.)

I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t been writing as much as I’d like. Hopefully, that’ll change this year. If things go as planned, there will be traveling and meeting up with old friends and family.  And as always, there are bound to be complications, awkward epiphanies and unexpected adventures.

I’m going to ring in the new year like I do every year – with extra helpings of cheese and an overwhelming sense of dread.

Also, I have a tumblelog now. Apparently, all the cool kids are doing it.

Shots from the incredible live show by U2.

Inception was everything I hoped it’d be.  It was sufficiently complex (though nowhere near as complicated as Primer or even, Memento) and despite the 148 minute running time, very very engaging.

(Spoilers)

Then again, like all great films, Inception has its flaws and it’s not just the false narrative or the plot holes. Christopher Nolan has a set of rules for his world – rules that are essential in moving the plot forward; call it cinematic license, but it does feel like Nolan gets away with a little too much. I might be nitpicking but that’s what happens when you go in with great expectations.

Critics who’ve compared it to 2001: ASO or Blade Runner are only kidding themselves. Inception is more than just another great science fiction film – it’s about mathematics and engineering. The narrative is so tightly constructed that when scenes flit across the three (or four) ‘dream levels’, you cannot help but marvel at the genius behind it especially since time is supposed to be relative in all levels. A couple of years ago, the brother suggested I read Douglas R. Hofstadter’s wonderful book, Godel, Escher, Bach and after Inception, I find myself comparing the two. The film’s production design is certainly inspired by M.C. Escher’s art and some of the themes have been explored in other films. In fact, for a much more accurate interpretation of lucid dreams and more specifically, the concept of limbo, I’d recommend Richard Linklater’s underrated Waking Life.

Despite my reservations, I loved Inception. I find it oddly comforting that amidst all the crap that finds its way into cinemas, we can still count on someone to deliver a truly original blockbuster that you don’t have to switch your brain off for. And yes, I’ll be watching it again.

9/10

Caught Tegan and Sara live at The Forum last month. I’ve loved the indie sister duo ever since I was introduced to Sainthood sometime last year.

Thing about a great live performance is that you forget the opening acts. The Jezabels, a relatively new Sydney based band were pretty good and Astronautalis put up an awesome show. I love this brilliantly shot jam session. Thundercats!

(NSFW)

Astronautalis from Coach House Sounds on Vimeo.

Face it, Avatar was never really going to live up to the hype.

Granted, James Cameron’s return to screen is every bit a visual spectacle as they say; Pandora is unlike anything we’ve ever been subjected to especially in 3D. The environments are lush and Pandora’s inhabitants are stunningly rendered. Visually, the film is brilliant and deserves every bit of praise it gets.

Sadly, the script is overwrought with cliches bordering on heavy handedness. It would’ve been enough if it were simply an allegory for civilizations and their misplaced sense of entitlement. Turns out, it’s also about the environment. Thankfully, the last 40 minutes made up for all the preachiness.

It’s interesting that Cameron never strays from the basics – there’s the three-act narrative, James Horner’s pounding orchestral score and a voice-over. For all the technical wizardry involved, Avatar is a very conventional film and a very good one at that.

© 2009 Punnen Syriac

I counted seven of them; passed out on the floor surrounded by smoking paraphernalia and empty jello cases. The faint strain of a Marvin Gaye song came from somewhere in the decrepit apartment.

“What the hell does your boytoy want, Gwen?”

Gwen motioned me to follow her in.

“This is the guy I told you about Stu. He’s the one who wants….”

“Yeah yeah.”

Stu walked in from the toilet, wiped his hands on his khakis and plopped himself on the stained couch. The room reeked of cannabis and urine. There were copies of High Times, Extreme Golf and back issues of comic books I’d never heard of strewn about. In one corner of the room, there were giant stainless steel boxes that had wires going in and out of them. Temperature controlled vaults. Nonetheless, the place was the antithesis of what I had expected. Weren’t these people supposed to be a bit more, disciplined?

Stu sized me up and let out a condescending chuckle. I took that he wasn’t too impressed. I looked over to Gwen who seemed to be showing no emotion. Enter paranoia.

“I told you I wouldn’t sell to any wannabe latte sipping yuppie after last time Gwen. Why do you bring these little fuckers over?”

I tugged at Gwen’s sleeve but she didn’t seem to notice. I didn’t want to inconvenience the man any further. He probably had vegetative substance to get back to.

“He isn’t like the others Stu. Besides, why do you care for what he does with it?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t care what he does with it Lady Guinevere. You do. We all do.”

“We’re not having that conversation again. Stop being an elitist prick and just give him what he wants.”

Second thoughts now. An unemployed pothead was on the verge of putting me through another bout of existential angst. And from the looks of it, it’d take more than three bottles of vodka and a Dario Argento film to fix it.

Stu seemed to be contemplative all of a sudden. He picked his nose and drifted off for a minute.

“Alright, but I don’t have it sweetheart. You’ll have to see this Chinese kid. Peng.”

He turned to me, “And no asswipe, he doesn’t live with his mother.”

Hours later, I was trying to keep pace with Gwen as we raced through dingy streets and shady alleys. Screw Melbourne, this was Australia’s best kept secret. We waited by the Indian restaurant as instructed over the phone. Peng was a lot more like I’d imagined. He looked the type. Dressed in a Green Lantern t-shirt and jeans, he walked over and we shook hands awkwardly.

He seemed shy and didn’t make much eye contact with Gwen. From what I could make of his broken English, he wanted fifty more than we had agreed on. I shrugged and gave him the money. Too exhausted to haggle.

“You very lucky man. You take care of this, okay?”

I tore open the paper cover like an impatient schoolboy. Two years. Two whole years of tracking people down, forging unlikely friendships and promising unusual favors. It all boiled down to this.

I felt Gwen’s hands on my shoulder.

“Now, about that other thing.”

Having watched quite a few Kiarostami films, I ended up going for  Correspondences. It’s one of those exhibitions wherein audio-visual elements take center stage as museum installations; an experience that sometimes turns out to be grating and very very confusing (case in point being ‘replay christian marclay‘ a couple of months back).

However, Correspondences was a brilliantly rewarding and moving experience. Viktor Erice and Abbas Kiarostami apparently never met in person till the exhibition but they maintained a very unique rapport with each other through a sort of creative dialogue that gave birth to this particular installation. Despite being from vastly different backgrounds, these two auteurs found common ground in their visions of childhood, memory and cinema. There are some very powerful images (photographs by Kiarostami especially) and an excellent black and white short film by Erice titled, Lifeline (video link). Two very interesting pieces by Kiarostami included projections of a sleeping couple (Sleepers) onto the floor and another ten minute projection of a sleeping child.

Occasionally, you do feel like a voyeur but then again, isn’t that what cinema is essentially about?

(Cross-posted on Couch-Critics)

Links:

• Letters to the World
• Erice-Kiarostami: Correspondences (Paperback)

It’s that time of the year again. The Melbourne International Film Festival is back with a lot less fanfare than last year and unlike last year (when I was broke busy), I plan on catching more films. Two films I’m really looking forward to are the indie sensation ‘In Search of a Midnight Kiss‘ and Guy Maddin‘s acclaimed ‘My Winnipeg‘.

Good times ensue.