Friends and Strangers

If you ever wondered what Rohmer would do if he were a young man living in Australia in the early 21st century here is probably your answer

Discombobulated vignettes with the only constant being the main male actor seen in different places with different people in middle-class drifter mode with a level of slackdom and aimlessless one can only gawp at ....

This is an arty film and skillful at that ... it is the first full-length feature film from the director it seems ... will want to see the follow-ups.

Eric Rohmer is one of those figures like Godard, Francis Bacon or Pinter who is not a good influence on younger artists. He's just too distinctive and the creative liberties he takes, which seem like revelations when you see them in his stuff, just end up looking like laziness in the work of the young pretenders. Really, that's what they are, coming not out the specific needs of the artists and their work, but copied dumbly from the master.

It might help if some of the many Rohmer wannabes could work out a little more clearly what their needs and wants actually are. Rohmer always seemed to know: his work is almost always about something. Hell, he even began his filmmaking career with a series of self-described 'moral tales.' The copyists seem to have missed this, only noticing the long takes, muted colour, walking around and the endless talking. Those things, on their own, it turns out, are not going to make your movie.

Here, about the most the writer seems to have to say is, 'Nowt so queer as folk.' We are asked just to enjoy the random foibles, interspersed with static shots of scenery. It would all be inadequate anyway, but a great deal of the dialogue is not as well observed as it means to be and the actor playing the lead is not quite up to it, though there's enough there that I hope he'll grow as a performer, not quit.

OK, there's a little hint of deeper significance in a mid-point exchange in which this protagonist's friend challenges him to face up to the recent trauma of his ex cheating on him. But the events around this mostly have little to do with this experience, and even less to say about the dangers of suppressing feelings, which the protagonist seems determined to do.

My own feeling is, I'm depressed by it all, really bummed. It's so pervasive in art house movies, this endless business of good bits with nothing to say. The thinking is so muddled and just so wrong. These writers all need to take a tip from Samuel Johnson: 'Young writers should go through their work and cross out all the good parts.'

Long still shots of a scene waiting for the characters to enter it or exit it. Drivel conversations. Why do these producers make such crap? Don't waste your time with this gong show.

In Australia, heartbroken Alice starts dating Ray and they go on a camping trip. She's not enthused and rejects him. One month later, he continues to be snake bitten. He has a job with a wealthy home owner which meanders into a Kafkaesque journey.

It's an Australian indie. Some say it's a satire. I don't know if it is. It's punching down. Ray is a sad sack wet blanket. He's more frustrating than funny. I actually like the camping section. There seems to be real tension being built and then the movie just moves on. I really wanted to stay there and work out some drama. The movie starts following Ray and it's boring. Once he gets to the house, it starts becoming surreal and that's a little interesting. In the end, Ray is aimless and rather pathetic. The movie is not as funny as it wants to be.

There's a lot to like in this offbeat, deadpan comedy that's part Rohmer and part Wes Anderson. Beautifully shot, and wonderful, notable performances by many of the actors, especially Emma Diaz. The character of Ray is at the center of the film, though, and the portrayal is too thin to carry it along. Clearly he's meant to be something of a cypher. But there's too little going on with the portrayal to merit the attention.