Words on Bathroom Walls (2020), directed by Thor Freudenthal

Adam is in his final year of high school and aiming to attend catering college and become a chef. Cooking has been the only thing that calms his increasingly troubled mind, but he’s fighting a losing battle and winds up with a diagnosis of schizophrenia. A new drug trial and a new school offer a final chance at ‘normality’, but the side affects stop him cooking so he faces an impossible choice. This film is an extraordinary achievement in portraying the reality of schizophrenia and dealing with mental illness. It is credible, funny and heartbreaking. The interesting technique of Adam addressing the camera as his psychiatrist, whom the audience never sees, allows a great deal of exposition and for the most part works well. The embodiment of the voices in Adam’s head gives true insight into the conflicting chaos he deals with. Charlie Plummer is astoundingly good as Adam, evoking a young James Spader or Paul Dano. The solid supporting cast includes Molly Parker as Adam’s loving and supporting mother, Taylor Russell as his confident prospective girlfriend and Andy Garcia in a surprising cameo as a helpful priest. This is a brave film, tackling a challenging subject in a sensitive manner that can only assist wider understanding. The only quibble is a slightly saccharine ending that is out of sync with the bulk of the film, but it would have been very hard to create a genuine ending that wasn’t a complete downer. The Chainsmokers’ soundtrack is a good fit.

Utopia Avenue, by David Mitchell

The story of an unlikely fledgling rock group in the late 60s, this is an extraordinarily detailed tale of rise and fall, with promising careers cut short by tragedy. Aspiring manager Levon brings together impoverished working class bassist Dave, ethereal guitar virtuoso Jasper, jazzy northern drummer Griff and folky keyboard player Elf. Each chapter is named for one of the band’s songs and is mostly told from the point of view of the writer of the song, which means Griff and Levon get less airtime than the three songwriters. The characters are interesting and the way their lives inform the songs is depicted well, although providing full song lyrics is unnecessary excess. The band has lots of encounters with other performers and artists inhabiting swinging London – Pink Floyd, Steve Winwood, David Bowie, Francis Bacon, John Lennon, Brian Jones. Was it really such a small scene that they all ran into each other? Maybe, but it doesn’t read as believable, particularly Bowie. Mitchell allows himself more onanistic touches, referencing his previous novels and introducing a bizarre element of magical realism that links to one in particular. There is a lot of exposition, declamation and clunky dialogue used to set the scene and explain context. The result is a sprawling, self-indulgent mess of a novel that could have used a good edit.

Misbehaviour (2020), directed by Philippa Lowthorpe

In 1970 the women’s movement for equality was just getting rolling and the anachronistic Miss World beauty pageant became a target as a symbol of a patriarchal system that marginalises women. Misbehaviour spotlights ordinary women who got involved in the fight, including mature student and single mother Sally Alexander and activist Jo Robinson. Played by Keira Knightly and Jessie Buckley, these women form the warm heart of a disparate and diverse group. Although articulate on the campaign and its aim, the film is not just polemic. It skewers the shockingly sexist and misogynistic attitudes prevalent at the time, simply by presenting them, but it also shows the human face of all involved. This includes hopeful contestants, immensely popular dinosaur comedian Bob Hope and Sally’s mum. The film promotes the effectiveness of protest and activism, claiming apartheid protests helped force changes to Miss World and that the Women’s Liberation protest helped put the movement on the map. It underlines the power of intersectionality to create a sum greater than its parts. It's also funny. Gugu Mbatha-Raw is moving as eventual pageant winner Miss Guatemala, eloquently making the case for the limited opportunities afforded to black women in particular. Greg Kinnear looks good as Bob Hope, but his accent often slips; Lesley Manville is excellent as always in a cameo as Delores Hope. It’s a really nice touch at the end to see brief images and bios of several of the real people portrayed in the film – real women who achieved real goals.

Writers and Lovers, by Lily King

Casey is an aspiring writer, crippled by student debt and grieving the sudden death of her beloved mother. She has been working on a novel for six years and at 31 is facing the question of how long she can maintain her commitment to the creative life. She also faces a choice between two very different romantic possibilities, which kind of echoes her economic dilemma. Will she take the path of risk or stability? Of heart, head or gut? Will past mistakes and experiences influence her decision? This deceptively simple tale of a young woman at a crossroads is easy to read and hard to put down. Casey is a fully realised, complex and endearing protagonist, with admirable principles, debilitating anxiety, a damaging family history and great supportive friends. King makes some gently interesting points along the way about the differences in the treatment and expectations of male and female writers. She also highlights the casual everyday sexism and harassment endured by women, especially in hospitality. This is an absorbing and satisfying read that prompts investigation of the author’s other work.

Record of a Spaceborn Few, by Becky Chambers

The Exodan Fleet of homestead spaceships departed a wrecked planet Earth many centuries ago. Since acceptance by other species into the Galactic Commons the fleet has orbited a sun as a kind of giant space station nation. The ageing fleet has some maintenance issues and its population is slowly depleting as young people leave for new lives and opportunities in the GC colony planets and moons. The Exodan tale is told through the experiences of several of its inhabitants – mother of two Tess, archivist Isabel, teenage rebel Kip, immigrant Sawyer and caretaker of the dead Eyas. There is also an outside perspective from an alien visitor. The final in Becky Chambers’ space saga trilogy has only a tenuous direct link to the first two, although clearly in the same universe. Tess is the sister of Ashby, the captain of the mining ship at the centre of the first novel. The action is disjointed through most of the novel, the disparate voices painting an engaging picture of Exodan history and culture but providing little in the way of plot. A tragedy brings some of the characters together and overlaps their stories, pointing the way to the future for Exodans. It’s a little sad to farewell this fascinating universe, but this story is a fitting way to do so.

Brazen Hussies (2020), directed by Catherine Dwyer

Students of history and feminism may think they have a good handle on the rise of the women’s movement in Australia. While Brazen Hussies hits some familiar notes and shows a few well-known faces, it also takes a deep dive into all aspects of the movement for change in the key decade of 1965 to 1975. Small actions and consciousness-raising grew into mass protests and political action, with women united by anger and a determination to achieve equality. Contemporary interviews with a huge variety of activist women are bolstered by archival footage of these same women and their contemporaries. Equal pay, discrimination, reproductive rights, sexual harassment and domestic violence – great strides were made on these and many other issues after the Whitlam government was elected in 1972, based on the work done by the women’s movement and its allies. But 50 years later all these issues are still live concerns for women and the progress made cannot be taken for granted. The documentary doesn’t flinch from depicting the conflict and disagreements that were inevitable within such a broad-based movement. Ultimately it was a victim of its own success, with groupings such as lesbian separatists, aboriginal activists and the Women’s Electoral Lobby inevitably having different goals and methods. Through the ages the men who write it have often obliterated women’s history. This film underlines the importance of acknowledging and building on the work done by previous generations to secure the gains women have made and keep moving towards equality.

You Have to Make Your Own Fun Around Here, by Frances Macken

Childhood friends Katie, Evelyn and Maeve have been thrown together by circumstance rather than affinity. Their friendship holds through to adulthood because of habit and the dominance of Evelyn’s strong personality. Evelyn is a pampered princess for whom everything comes easily. Maeve is her poor cousin with few choices. Narrator Katie is a people pleaser, who adores Evelyn and endures Maeve. The dynamic of their friendship is disturbed when a new girl arrives in their rural Irish town and leaves in mysterious circumstances. But it takes many years and much drama for their roles to change and for Katie and Maeve to find their own voices. The girls’ story is told in a series of time jumps through primary school, high school, college and beyond. It provides a vivid picture of small town life in Ireland, with echoes of Derry Girls in its quirky characters with a dark side. It’s a little difficult to accept that Katie stays in Evelyn’s thrall even when she moves to Dublin for University. Would it really have been so clicky that she couldn’t make any new friends? After a tale stretching more than a decade it all comes together a little too quickly and neatly in the end, particularly for Maeve, whose voice has until then barely been heard.

The Grove of Caesars, by Lindsay Davis

Her husband is out of town on a family matter, so Flavia Albia must oversee his building business. Their major project is clearing up a neglected section of some public gardens – the Grove of Caesars. There they find some old scrolls, which may prove valuable. Nearby to the building site a grisly murder takes place and Flavia Albia uncovers a conspiracy of silence about what may prove to be a long history of serial killings. Can she solve the mystery before the killer strikes again? Immersion in ancient Rome is once again total, although the level of detail on the city’s layout does tend to read too much like a Roman street directory. In the end the perpetrator is obvious, more to the reader than to Albia, but it’s still an exciting ride getting there – if a rather dark and grisly one. Already softened up by the addition of a dog to the household, Albia’s personal life takes an interesting turn in this novel, possibly promising a more domestic bent in future tales of the informer.

Battle of the Sexes (2017), directed by Valerie Faris & Jonathan Dayton

The 1970s saw some great leaps forward for feminism and equality, led by some strong characters who broke new ground for women. In tennis it was Billie Jean King, with great support from her husband Larry, who made the case for equal pay for female players. She did a lot of work over many years to achieve this, but is best known for the rather showbiz stunt of beating former pro player Bobby Riggs. The self-proclaimed chauvinist declared that even he – a 55-year-old has been - could beat the top women’s player of the day. The film is interesting and entertaining, creating King and Riggs as fully rounded characters with strengths and flaws. It focuses a little too heavily on King’s sexuality, at the expense of her tennis and business achievements and really does not do Larry’s role justice. Emma Stone is very good as King and Steve Carell makes a credible Riggs. Jess McNamee makes a rather strange cameo as Margaret Court, but at least they cast an Australian so the accent is right.

Almost a Mirror, by Kirsten Krauth

Teenage groupie Mona and her childhood sweetheart Jimmy live through the music of the 80s. Later Benat’s memories as an immigrant teen in the druggy Melbourne music scene are added to the mix. The action jumps back and forth in time between the 1980s and the 2010s, in a series of sometime confusing vignettes. It’s all sex and drugs and rock’n’roll, with a dash of child abuse and neglect thrown in for fun. Set in Castlemaine and grungy St Kilda, the integration of real musicians sits oddly amid the fictional; it should add authenticity but makes the fictional seem fake. Bold, evocative writing creates a strong sense of place and time, but there is little in the way of character development. Elliptical references in early chapters are fleshed out in rather too much detail later in the book, whereas some questions could use an answer. A classic 80s song, said by the author to have inspired it, heads each chapter. Some inspiration is clearer than others and similarly, some chapters work better than others. The best are knife-sharp, moving, evocative and heartbreaking; others are kind of meh. It seems Mona and Benat are survivors, able to eventually grow up, while Jimmy is not. Is the moral of the story that it is impossible to escape your origins and that we are destined to be the kind of parent we had? The title refers to matching incidents in 1984 and 2018, the only chapters written in first person, with Mona abused as a child and taking a kind of revenge as an adult. These sit oddly out of context with the rest of the book.

Burn, by Patrick Ness

Not so much an alt-history as an alt-reality, this is a fascinating reimagining of the cold war era, with added dragons. Humans and dragons have lived an uneasy truce for the last couple of centuries, after a history of conflict. The peace is threatened when a group of human dragon-worshippers, known as Believers, look to enact an old prophecy. Fanatical disciple Malcolm travels across country, pursued by the FBI, to carry out his destiny. Will a chance encounter lead him astray? Meanwhile Sarah, a vulnerable mixed-race farm girl forms an unlikely friendship with the snarky dragon her father employs to clear their fields. There is rather too much foreshadowing and when the story threads and characters all come together half way through the book, the story takes a sharp turn into an alternate universe. The trick to world building or alternate realities in speculative fiction is to establish clear rules and stick to them. Doing this well allows suspension of disbelief to the extent that literally anything is possible. Unfortunately Burn does not achieve this. There are lots of interesting elements and characters, but they don’t come together as a credible whole.

Judy & Punch (2019), directed by Mirrah Foulkes

There is a fairytale quality to this reimagining of the Punch and Judy puppet show. The setting is long ago and far away, in a country town possibly in 17th century Europe. All the familiar characters are present – the dog, the baby, the policeman, but there is a twist in the traditional tale of alcoholism and family violence. Writer/director Mirrah Foulkes makes it a story of overcoming prejudice and groupthink, as well as vengeance on a violent and manipulative abuser. Mia Wasikowska and Damon Herriman are terrific as the title characters dealing with love gone wrong. The film is beautifully shot, with an almost dreamlike quality that is at odds with its sometimes brutal content. Interesting and entertaining, this is yet another example of an Australian film that did not receive the distribution or attention it deserved.

Providence, by Max Barry

Max Barry ventures into outer space for his latest commentary on human interaction with technology and where the line is drawn, or not, between corporate interest and public good. Providence is a class of interstellar warship built and operated by AI. It has a crew of four: Captain, Weapons, Intel and Life, ostensibly to oversee battle against an invasive alien hive species of deadly salamanders. Jackson, Anders, Gilly and Talia form the crew of the latest Providence to launch its four-year interstellar mission. But are they really there for PR purposes, as the publicly acceptable face of an outrageously expensive exercise that can easily run without them? This mission will expose their flaws, test their characters and cause each to question their purpose. The crew tells the story, mostly from the points of view of Gilly and Talia with occasional insights from the others. It is bookended by an unidentified onlooker, who gives an everyman view of the origin of the story and its outcome. Barry’s characters are always interesting and this time he places them in a thrilling space yarn, with some seriously thought-provoking moral and ethical dilemmas.

The Queen’s Bargain, by Anne Bishop

This latest instalment of the dark fantasy Black Jewels series sees Warlord Prince Daemon Sadi and assassin Surreal SaDiablo struggling in their marriage. This has dire implications for Sadi’s mental health and consequently for the health of the worlds he rules. Meanwhile Eyrian Jillian is on the cusp of womanhood but doesn’t have a wide choice of partners to help her test her wings. Sadi’s Eyrian brother Lucivar must somehow wrangle his powerful and complicated family as they work out how to be true to themselves. The brothers find they must look into both good and bad influences from the past in order to secure their future. Power has a price, but so does love, especially for those who wear jewels. Bishop’s sure hand enables her to introduce interesting new characters and further develop those already well-known and loved in this richly created world. There are always new aspects of the world to discover, with its complex society and politics, which makes it such a joy to revisit. The end of this story, while satisfying in itself, leaves a sense that there may well be more to come. This can only be a good thing, so yes please.

Eighth Grade (2018), directed by Bo Burnham

This film does not really have a plot; it’s a snapshot of a week in the life of Kayla, who is about to finish the eighth grade. This marks the end of middle school, before moving on to high school. The 13-year-old lives with her overprotective and very patient single dad and is subject to all the highs and lows of early adolescence. She navigates acne, mean girls, a crush on a jock and dealing with potential friends who are too old for her. The week starts slowly as we get to know Kayla in all her teenage awkwardness; her attempts at becoming a YouTube influencer are excruciating to begin with. But it gathers momentum as she finds her feet and demonstrates some hope that the future will be brighter. As painful as it is funny, the slice-of-life style is reminiscent of Linklater’s Boyhood. It rings true in the same way and is, if anything, more moving. Elsie Fisher is astonishingly good as Kayla.

A Closed and Common Orbit, by Becky Chambers

This is a sequel to The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet so it’s disappointing at first to find that the focus is on two minor characters from that epic space opera. The crew of the Wayfarer don’t appear at all and they are missed, but the story of tech specialist Pepper and AI Lovelace mark two, who renames herself Sidra, is just as engaging and fascinating as its predecessor. The chapters alternate between Sidra’s new life on the moon Coriol and Pepper’s backstory, when she was Jane 23. Sidra struggles to adjust to her very changed circumstances and to accept the limitations of her new body. An AI assisted Pepper’s escape from a horrendous childhood and virtually raised her, so she is uniquely positioned to understand and help Sidra to adapt. Becky Chambers writes with empathy and intelligence, creating brave new worlds full of diversity and adventure. At the same time she draws topical, meaningful and relatable parallels with real world issues of politics, technology and interpersonal communication. Entertaining, engaging, moving, thought-provoking and satisfying, you can’t really ask much more of a book. There is a third novel in the series, so it will be exciting to see where Chambers takes the story next.

Keeper, by Jessica Moor

Katie’s story alternates between Then and Now; Then details her relationship with controlling boyfriend Jamie from its very beginning to its very end, Now looks into its aftermath. Then shows how Katie’s family background and lack of self-esteem contributes to her submission to Jamie’s control. Now includes the stories of women living in the refuge where Katie works, each affected by male violence in various ways. They are totally diverse in age, class, education, socio economic background, religion, everything. This can happen to anyone and societal institutions – the police, the justice system, even families – are set up to fail women and children at every turn. This is deeply uncomfortable and confronting reading, but also compelling in its truth. A twist at the end is unsurprising as it explains all, including a few small elements that don’t quite gel during the tale. All is indeed revealed, but the small nugget of hope that the truth may eventually out is counteracted by a deeply depressing suspicion that there will be no justice for Katie, or anyone else in her situation.

The Secret Garden (2020), directed by Marc Munden

The end credits say ‘based on the novel by Frances Hodgson Burnett’, but those familiar with the classic book will appreciate how loose this claim is. The main characters have the same names and the story follows the same trajectory, but there the similarities end. Updated to 1947 from the turn of the century for no discernible reason, there are further major departures from the original story that seem to have little point. The novel features nature as therapy, along with fresh air, healthy food and common sense. The film somehow turns this into magical realism, complete with dodgy CGI creatures. While love of the book may heighten criticism, the reality is it this just not a good film. The dialogue is often stilted and some of the acting is very ordinary. The talents of Julie Walters and Colin Firth are wasted. This is a classic case of an unnecessary remake. If you are going to change the original text so much, why bother? Just write your own story.

Native Spirits, 23rd St Distillery

You can really taste the finger lime and lemon myrtle in this unique gin. It has an almost spritzig, lemonady quality, which is saved from over-sweetness by its other botanicals – including wattle seed and pepperberry. It’s a very different taste from the company’s Signature Gin. Not a flavour for everyone, but it’s definitely worth a try.

The Girl with the Gold Bikini, by Lisa Walker

Instead of spending the summer backpacking with her mates, school leaver Olivia Grace has taken a job as a trainee private investigator with her childhood playmate Rosco. Splitting their time between the office on the Gold Coast and on a case in Byron Bay the pair find themselves embroiled with rival yoga studios and nefarious business people. Olivia has a talent for trouble; luckily she can rely on Rosco to help get her out of it. If you can get past the unlikelihood of teenaged private detectives this is a fun read. The tongue-in-cheek style suits the many plot absurdities, although the plethora of characters can get confusing. The underlying message of forging your own path adds a little depth and Olivia is ultimately an endearing character and a heroine for our times.

Royals, by Emma Forrest

Aspiring fashion designer Steven lives in London’s East End with his Jewish martyr mother, abusive alcoholic father and two brothers. He is the odd fish out, already marked as gay even though he ‘hasn’t decided yet’. In hospital he meets West End girl Jasmine, an ‘it’ girl with family problems of her own. She entrances Steven and inspires him to transcend Thatcher’s Britain and realise his dreams. Set in the summer of 1981, around the wedding of Charles and Diana, the music and fashion references are a lot of fun. The story has echoes of milliner Philip Treacy and his muse Isabella Blow, although the abrupt ending makes it more a tale of what could have been. Forrest evokes a time and culture that strongly resonates; Steven is sympathetic and believable, Jasmine a little less so. It’s an easy read, sad and funny with some insights into issues of wealth and class and the troubles of teens, regardless of where they come from.

Made in Italy (2020), directed by James D’Arcy

Imminent divorce will see Jack Foster lose the successful art gallery he manages unless he can raise the money to buy it from his wife’s family. To achieve this he persuades his estranged father to sell the neglected Tuscan villa they inherited from Jack’s late mother. They discover the villa needs a lot of work to be ready for sale. Can they repair their relationship along with the house and forge some new memories in Italy? This looks like something of a passion project for actor James D’Arcy, who wrote, produced and directed it. It would have benefited from some further input, as only the gorgeous scenery bolsters the slight and predictable story. Despite the wonderful location the film had to work with the cinematography is awful. There are lots of unnecessarily shaky, dizzying hand-held shots and weirdly angled close ups that are possibly intended to intensify emotion. Acting would have been better. It was a real coup to get Liam Neeson to take a break from his action flicks to take on this very small film. He kind of reprises his Love Actually role, but it’s fine. He gets solid support from Lindsay Duncan, playing to type as an acerbic estate agent, and Valeria Bilello, who is delightful as local chef Natalia. The weakest link is Micheal Richardson, who can’t quite carry off the grieving son, which is ironic given it’s a case of art imitating life.

Ancillary Justice, by Ann Leckie

Breq used to be the AI of a giant spaceship in the service of the aggressively colonialist Radchaii. As such she had a multiple consciousness, embodied in multiple ancillaries that carried out work on the ground. Something has happened to sever all her connections, leaving her with a single consciousness in one human ancillary body. Now she is looking for justice. The story jumps between the events that led up to Breq’s change of circumstance almost 20 years previously and her present day actions to redress them. The past deals with a complex political situation on the final planet to be annexed. The present starts on an icy frontier planet, where Breq seeks a weapon – and possible allies in her quest. It’s a complicated story, sometimes difficult to follow, which is made unnecessarily tricky by the Radchaii use of the female pronoun as a default. Everyone is referred to as she or her, regardless of gender, which is often confusing and it’s difficult to see what purpose it serves. Similarly, keeping track of the multiple split ancillaries of the highest power of the Radchaii is a frequent headfuck. Breq’s motivations are often a mystery even to herself, which is intriguing. As an inhuman, supposedly emotionless, AI she shows a lot of heart. This is the first in a series, which lays the groundwork for an epic adventure and possibly an epic love story. Whether it’s between a man and a woman or a same sex couple we may never know and perhaps the point is that we really don’t need to know.

The Good Turn, by Dervla McTiernan

Detective Sergeant Cormac Reilly is almost a secondary character at the start of McTiernan’s third novel about crime and policing in Galway. His offsider Peter Fisher is front and centre in a problematic investigation into a child abduction that winds up with Reilly suspended and Fisher banished. The two officers face losing their careers and everything that matters to them, so do they give up or do they fight? McTiernan’s depiction of the breadth and depth of corruption in the police force is detailed and depressing as she examines very different approaches to policing and the implications of shades of grey. She maintains suspense until the end, her strong character development overcoming the improbable coincidence the plot hinges on. As usual, she leaves the reader wanting more and it would be very interesting to discover what lies ahead for Reilly and Fisher.

Unorthodox (Netflix)

Estee is 19 and has been married for a year to Yanky. They are ultra orthodox Jews, living in what amounts to a ghetto in Williamsburg New York where the rules of life are rigid and women have few rights or freedoms. Marriage is not what Estee expected and she needs to get away. Can she escape her past and learn to live in the modern world? In four tight episodes the story alternates between Estee’s adventures in Berlin as she discovers her true self and flashbacks to her childhood, courtship and marriage. Israeli actress Shira Haas gives an astonishingly good performance as Estee in a nuanced show that provides interesting insights into a little-known world apart.

Taking Down Evelyn Tait, by Poppy Nwosu

Charlotte ‘Lottie’ Murphy is always in trouble. Largely it’s of her own making, but sometimes it’s engineered by her arch enemy Evelyn Tait - who is everything Lottie is not. Now Evelyn has gone too far, romancing Lottie’s best friend Grace just to get to her. But second best friend Jude has a plan to take Evelyn down – outdo her in goodness and get her to show her true colours in school and at home. Nwosu gives a somewhat idealised picture of teens and their ability to rapidly learn and change. Her depiction of their everyday acceptance of diversity is hopefully more accurate and is refreshing. There is a touch of naivety to Lottie that is a little hard to swallow at times, but her spirit and energy is infectious. She is a bright spark and her relationship with her headmaster is particularly enjoyable. For anyone who knows Adelaide there are some glitches in geography and the timeline but the evocation of an exceptionally hot early summer in Port Adelaide is lovely. Despite a few minor twists and turns it is always pretty clear where this story is going and it’s an enjoyable journey getting there.

The Bass Rock, by Evie Wyld

A strange small Scottish town, dominated by the landmark of the Bass Rock, has seen hundreds of years of men’s violence against each other, against children and, overwhelmingly, against women. The story moves back and forth in time, mainly between Ruth and her step-granddaughter Viv, who demonstrate the generational and personal trauma inflicted by this violence. Their stories are punctuated by others; some named, some anonymous, all victims of the patriarchy, which is reinforced by the structures of class and society. It makes for grim reading and should probably come with trigger warnings. Wyld sounds some notes of hope with her depiction of a few gentle men, who are not defined by the violence done to them, and by the women who foster resilience through their support of each other despite their differences. But the town is not unique; it represents the state of the world. Through all the Bass Rock endures, as do women, but erosion is inexorable and inevitable.

Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (2020), directed by David Dobkin

Lars has dreamed of representing Iceland at Eurovision since he was a young child and has honed his craft over decades, with his faithful collaborator Sigrit. Despite his dedication he is no closer to his dream until all other contenders are unexpectedly eliminated. Written with tongue firmly in cheek, this Netflix comedy would be a fabulously funny tribute to the Eurovision song contest if it weren’t for some serious miscasting. Rachel McAdam is a delight as Sigrit, Dan Stevens is great as the oily Russian competitor Alexander, even Pierce Brosnan is ok as grumpy dad. The problem is Will Ferrell as Lars, because he’s just not funny. It ‘s a pity because the silly OTT story is a perfectly joyous celebration of Eurovision, in all its diversity. There are great cameos from Demi Lovato, Graham Norton and many actual Eurovision performers and the supremely catchy and stupid songs could not be more appropriate. It is all an entertaining hoot except for Ferrell, who should really stick to behind the scenes.

The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet, by Becky Chambers

This is proper science fiction, in that it contains both good solid science and good strong fiction.
Set in the far future, when humans have long abandoned the Earth they have wrecked, our species is divided into the descendants of the wealthy who colonised Mars and the remainder who left on a fleet of great homestead ships.
But there are many other species in the universe: some humanoid, some not; some friendly, some decidedly not.
A daughter of Mars escaping her past, Rosemary Harper joins a diverse deep space crew of wormhole tunnellers aboard the Wayfarer, where she makes friends, grows up and has the adventure of a lifetime.
This ambitious novel achieves a lot via its imaginative world building and depth of character development. The road trip the Wayfarer embarks on for a dangerous contract enables multiple stops that add to the picture of the state of the universe and its various inhabitants.
Believable relationships, exciting action, geopolitics, the story has it all, along with a reassurance that the good guys are those with tolerance, empathy and loyalty, regardless of their planet of origin.
Thanks goodness there is a sequel so we can find out what the crew of the ramshackle Wayfarer gets up to next.

When We Were Vikings, by Andrew David MacDonald

Zelda is 21 and obsessed by Vikings. Her brother and protector Gert is struggling to make ends meet on a college scholarship.
The pair has done it tough all their lives, with an absent father; an alcoholic mother who died of breast cancer; and an abusive uncle they had to escape from.
To fund their escape Gert got involved with some dodgy people and it looks like that is leading to trouble.
With help from Gert’s ex girlfriend, Zelda needs to channel her inner Viking to get them out of a mess and let them live their own legends.
It takes a little while to accept Zelda’s voice as authentic, but her charm grows as the story builds and we discover both her disability and extraordinary abilities.
This is an unusual coming-of-age story that shows how bloody hard it is to overcome disadvantage, but how much more possible everything can be when you get the love and support of people who give a damn.

Love Sarah (2020), directed by Eliza Shroeder

Paris-trained pastry chef Sarah had a dream to open her own bakery with her best friend Isabella. When she dies the dream looks likely gone too, but her bereft daughter, friend and mother pull together to try to make it a success.
There are some nice ideas in this film, particularly around multiculturalism, but it is a slight story that would have been more interesting with a better script and a better cast.
Celia Imrie does a sterling job as former circus performer Mimi, but she can’t carry the load alone. Shannon Tarbet is appealing as her granddaughter and the two of them get the best lines.
The romance between Shelley Conn and Rupert Penry-Jones is unconvincing at best.
The plotting is often shaky and clunky, as is some of the dialogue, especially between the aforementioned star-crossed lovers.
It’s all fairly predictable, occasionally moving, mildly amusing and wholly forgettable.

The Perfect Location, by Kate Forster

Established actress Rose Nightingale, edgy action star Sapphira De Mont and up-and-comer Calypso Gable find themselves on location in Perugia Italy.
Each of them has demons and secrets and all are romantically challenged, all of which are addressed over the course of the film shoot.
This is chick lit taken to soap opera levels of drama. Drug addiction, stalking, rape, and sexual harassment, stage mothers – it’s all here.
There is an awful lot of clunky exposition to start and listing every detail of every label of every stitch the women wear gets tedious for the non fashion-forward.
Research has definitely been done – most of it is on the page.
Fewer characters and more character development would have made for a better story.
The actual film is peripheral to the plot, which it’s a pity as it’s refreshingly unusual to read of a Hollywood movie featuring three leading actresses.
The novel was published in 2012, so it was prescient on Hollywood’s me too issues – starkly portrayed here.
There is never any doubt that all three women will find their happy endings and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Grown Ups, by Marian Keyes

Johnny Casey’s 49th birthday sets the scene for a major family implosion, with many secrets spilled and three marriages put at risk, after a head injury leads to home truths.
Jump back six months to another family get-together and then forward through several more, all instigated by Johnny’s wife Jessie – the self appointed family matriarch.
They gradually reveal the complicated history of this large and messy extended Irish family that requires a gnarled tree at the start for reference as to how everyone is related, or not.
Sisters-in-law Jessie, Cara and Nell could not be more different, but then again neither could their husbands – the Casey brothers.
The sprawling tale of all their interactions, children, flaws, mistakes and shenanigans is warm and witty, if at times a little hard to swallow.
Keyes has never been shy of a cause, but she perhaps goes a bit overboard here, with asylum seeker policy, eating disorders, period poverty and gaslighting all getting an outing, along with something of a lecture.
She also veers into exposition a few times to fill in the very intricate back stories of so many characters.
Jessie’s aggressive and oppressive generosity, Cara’s body insecurity and Nell’s terrible decisions don’t make you like them any less. Good people sometimes do bad things, but they can redeem themselves and in the end family matters more than anything else.
Several of Keyes’ earlier novels were linked by one family – the Walshes; each focussing on a different family member. There is scope for the Caseys and Kinsellas to form a similar nexus; it would certainly be interesting to find out what happens next for the younger generation, particularly the luscious Ferdia.

The Personal History of David Copperfield (2020), directed by Armando Iannuci

It was interesting to find a number of people thought this film was about the American illusionist of the same name. This may be a sign that although many may know of author Charles Dickens they are not so familiar with his actual books.
It has been a while since the last BBC adaptation of one of his classic tales, so it is probably timely to see this rather different interpretation for the big screen.
The totally colour blind casting seems odd at first, only because of the 19th century England setting, but as the story is played almost more as fantasy than history it really doesn’t matter that aristocratic black women have white children. As the title says, it is a personal history and in these times the effect is kind of nice.
The production design is sublime and the costumes gorgeous, giving the film a sumptuous look and feel.
Despite its fantastical elements, the film makes some pointed jabs, true to Dickens, about class, snobbery, wage theft and child labour. So there is a little social history included.
Dev Patel does a great job of portraying the ups and downs of David Copperfield, a man of many nicknames who finally claims his true identity when he makes his own place in the world.
A wonderful supporting cast includes a slew of well-known British faces, including Hugh Laurie, Peter Capaldi and Gwendoline Christie, with Tilda Swinton outstandingly funny as aunt Betsy Trotwood.
Many laugh-out-loud scenes relieve the Dickensian sentimentality. There are no magic tricks, but plenty of magical moments in a film that puts a visual focus on the power of words.

The Girl Who Reads on the Metro, by Christine Feret-Fleury

Juliette leads a narrow and regimented life, escaping it only through reading a wide variety of books that take her anywhere and everywhere.
This self-imposed ennui is almost incomprehensible in an attractive and financially secure young woman living in Paris.
She is bored by her job and her main form of entertainment is people watching on her journey to work.
A sudden impulse to get off the metro before her usual stop leads her into an unexpected adventure that literally changes her life.
Soliman and his daughter Zaide offer Juliette a way out of her comfort zone, helping other people through books.
The story has an Amelie-style quirkiness, which is often charming but at times cloying and self-conscious.
It encompasses a mind-boggling array of books, from many countries and cultures. The tone is occasionally didactic; such when describing the Bookcrossing concept to introduce Soliman’s operation, but this may be a fault of translation.
It is a slight book, set firmly in the present and touching lightly on modern-day issues and problems, but with a timeless quality that is probably the secret of its success.

The Truants, by Kate Weinberg

Jess Walker has chosen an obscure regional university over Oxford to study English Literature because of a particular professor.
A classic middle child, Jess quickly finds her tribe: instant best friend Georgie, boyfriend Nick and charismatic journalist Alec, as well as Dr Lorna Clay.
They help her break out of her conventional middle-class mores, let loose and have some fun.
But this is not enough for Jess, who wants what she can’t have – except maybe she can.
Fuzzy plot points and timelines detract from the story. Just what is a South African journalist doing hanging around an obscure English university? And just how long is an Easter vacation that it can accommodate conception, abortion, autopsy and funeral, plus a trip to Italy.
The story begins with a prologue that indicates an idyll gone very wrong (dear reader). The first half unfolds as a coming-of-age narrative and suddenly becomes an almost gothic mystery that is literally an incredible mess.
Jess makes some seriously bad choices, which makes it difficult to sympathise with her when they bring her undone.
In the end there are more questions than answers about Lorna and her motivations in a strangely unsatisfying tale.

Signature Gin, 23rd St Distillery

It’s been such a thrill to see more boutique gins popping up in the non-specialist liquor outlets, although sometimes the price can be eye-popping due to the excessive federal excise.
This one is from the South Australian Riverland town of Renmark and it’s another warm little number, with notes of mandarin and lime.
This can finish a little sweet on the palate, so choice of tonic is key if mixing.
It is available in neat little 200ml tasters, as well as the standard 700ml bottles, which is the perfect way to check it out.
It has been a revelation to a lover of the London dry style – heavy on the juniper – learning to appreciate the more delicate and subtle botanical flavours created by local distilleries.
Keep an eye out for special offers to try some of these lovely gins and form a new habit.

The Mirror and the Light, by Hilary Mantel

It has been a while since the second novel of this Thomas Cromwell trilogy was published and it takes a bit of effort to get back into to Mantel’s unusual style.
It can be difficult sometimes to work out who is speaking, compounded by extended passages of Cromwell’s thoughts, memories and even dreams.
It begins immediately after Bring Out the Bodies finishes, in the aftermath of Anne Boleyn’s execution and the instant marriage of King Henry VIII to Jane Seymour.
The almost 900 pages of dense, 16th century politics is surprisingly easy to read once you get into the rhythm of it.
Cromwell is a fascinating character. Was he an avaricious schemer and social climber? A religious and social reformer? A power-hungry manipulator? Possibly all of the above.
Revenge appears to have been his great motivator; he was a loyal friend; a great mentor to young men; kind to children and a collector of enemies.
Mantel transports readers into the heart and mind of the 16th century’s most astute politician, until he wasn’t.
Class was to be Cromwell’s downfall; even those who greatly benefitted from his policies resented his extraordinary social mobility and worked actively to undermine him.
The second half of the book flags a little, with rather too many lingering memories that add little to the illumination of Cromwell’s character or the steps that lead to his downfall. This may be because they unnecessarily elongate the path to the inevitable.
Mantel paints a picture of Cromwell as a true renaissance man, ahead of his time in many ways that became his undoing. As such he elicits sympathy, despite his many faults, not least for surviving and thriving for 10 years in the service of a most capricious king.

A Capitol Death, by Lindsey Davis

The Emperor Domitian is getting a grand triumph through the streets of Rome and it had better go smoothly or heads will literally roll.
In the lead up to festivities the transport coordinator falls from a cliff on the Capitol Hill. Did he jump or was he pushed? It’s up to intrepid informer Flavia Albia to find out.
There are a few too many coincidences in this mystery and Albia seems slower on the uptake than usual, with the reader ahead of her in making the connections on several occasions.
Perhaps she has taken on too many cases in too short a time, as this is around the third murder she has tackled since her wedding a scant two months previously.
The glimpses into her domestic life and the cameo from her well-beloved parents are the most entertaining elements of the story.
This is a pity as it means it falls short of Davis’s usual high standard tales of ancient Rome. This one has way too many descriptions of navigating the city’s hills, streets and landmarks, rather than its industries and underbelly.
The colourful characters just about save the book from the shortcomings of its plot. It is possible that Flavia Albia has run her course, although hopefully not as there is at least one more book in the series.

After Life (Netflix) Season 2

Grief-stricken Tony is slowly getting himself together in this second series of Ricky Gervais’s tragi-comedy.
He is not ready to move on from his lovely wife and will not even contemplate the first steps of doing so, much to the frustration of Emma - who could be more than his father’s carer.
But he is able to look beyond his sadness enough to actually help out other people and demonstrate what Lisa saw in him.
He shows support and kindness to friends and colleagues who have helped him, offering hope of better times.
Many of the supporting characters are fleshed out a little more, allowed to have agency beyond Tony, which adds greatly to both breadth and depth. And the cast is just great.
There are some self-indulgent aspects to the series, enabling an unnecessary gross-out factor that adds little to the story. The prime example is the disgusting psychiatrist, whose toxic masculinity serves no purpose.
This aside the series is once again sad, funny, moving and hopeful.

Wolfe Island, by Lucy Treloar

The author’s first novel, Salt Creek, was a moving and frustrating look at Australia’s dystopian past. This one takes a leap forward to a dystopian near future in the US, where climate and other refugees are demonised and persecuted.
Artist Kitty Hawke has an almost mystical connection to the island she lives on, the last of generations of her family. Her attachment has cost her a marriage and a good relationship with her children and she is the last inhabitant, all others having fled to the mainland as their houses succumbed to the sea.
Her satisfying if solitary life is disrupted when her estranged granddaughter turns up with some friends, who clearly have secrets and troubles that could threaten everyone’s future.
Kitty is drawn back into a family of sorts, which ironically takes her off her beloved island.
But with love comes loss and Kitty becomes a vagabond, adrift in a dangerous land, searching for what is truly home.
Treloar employs poetic and evocative language that never goes OTT into the realms of pretension in the telling of her tale.
The scenario is all too believable and Kitty’s painful reengagement with the world and her family is moving and emotional.

Ogin, KI Spirits

Small distillery gin is just so different from the mass-produced product.
This distinctive offering from Kangaroo Island has a heady herbal bouquet, with a tinge of orange blossom, which promises all that the gin delivers.
This is not one for a classic G&T – the quinine swamps the delicate flavours. It is far better sipped neat, served over ice with the suggested orange and rosemary garnish. Also recommended on the label is using it as the foundations for a martini and this is a great suggestion – stirred, not shaken.
A worthy winner of an international trophy for best contemporary gin, the only quibble is with the rather awkward glass stopper. Once this has been successfully navigated, it’s all good.
KISPIRITS.COM.AU

A Visit from the Goon Squad, by Jennifer Egan

This is a very odd book, a story told in a series of interconnecting vignettes from different points of view. They start with Sasha, a kleptomaniac music industry executive with commitment issues. The vignettes move back in time with snapshots of people closely and distantly connected to Sasha, although at first it’s not at all clear where we are going or how it will all connect. This happens with a sudden leap forward to Sasha’s future and a particularly annoyingly structured entry from her daughter. It all ends back where it started, although much later in time, with the connection of two men who were in Sasha’s life in very different ways. It’s an interesting way to paint a picture of a life - in fragments, memories, perceptions and tangents. The whole does give a movingly bleak picture of how women move through the world, dealing with the damage inflicted by men. It is reminiscent of a Robert Altman film, with a bewilderingly large array of characters and some hit and miss storylines that add up to a not-quite satisfying result.

The Cuckoo’s Calling (BBC)

Glamorous model Lula Landry fell to her death from the balcony of her luxury London flat. It is considered a suicide but her brother is not convinced and he hires private investigator Cormoran Strike to find the truth. What follows is a twisty whodunnit with plenty of juicy red herrings. Adapted from the first Strike novel by Robert Galbraith, the alter ego of JK Rowling , this three-part drama series is very well cast. Tom Burke is just right as war veteran turned private investigator Strike and Holliday Grainger perfect as his new offsider Robin. Both capture the nuances and development of their complex characters, which are actually more interesting than the murder mystery. The series is very true to the book, even down to the plot weakness at its heart. As with the books, London is a major character rather than just a backdrop.

Darkness for Light, by Emma Viskic

Private detective Caleb Zelic is determined to make better decisions. He is in therapy, has reconnected to the deaf community and may be on the verge of reconciling with his pregnant ex-wife. But it’s not so easy to escape the past. The Australian Federal Police and his treacherous ex-partner Frankie will make sure of that. A brutal murder, a violent assault and a child in danger draw him away from his safer choices and back into a world of pain. He risks losing everything he has fought to gain, but there is a child’s safety on the line so good decisions are not an option. It’s satisfying to see Caleb growing and trying, but chilling to realise how a twist of fate could bring it all undone. A few minor plot holes and the odd typo could have been fixed with an extra edit and proofread, but the speedy action skates quickly over most concerns. Sometimes success can extend a franchise beyond its natural life. This is the third outing for Caleb Zelic and it will be interesting to see if there is sufficient energy and appetite for more.

Throne of Glass, by Sarah J Maas

Celaena Sardothian has been an assassin since her tweens, trained to be the deadliest killer in Ardalan. Betrayal sent her to salt mines as a slave, but a year later the Crown Prince pulls her out by to be his champion in a competition to win her freedom. This is yet another fantasy novel that seems to have all the ingredients for success but is let down by mediocre writing. Eyes are obsidian, sapphire, bronze or turquoise. Crowns rest atop or upon heads. Spines regularly straighten in response to danger or fear. The assassin with a heart of ice and a will of steel spends most of her time either furiously angry or mooning after the young men in her orbit, so more like the brattiest adolescent in Ardalan. The trials of the champions are interesting, but the topic is all but abandoned half way through in favour of a bizarre murder mystery, involving supernatural elements and a torn-between-two-lovers scenario. It‘s like a lame romance novel poorly disguised as an action/fantasy tale. There are just too many adjectives in a ludicrous plot with no character development and motivations that change between paragraphs, let alone chapters. There are apparently two sequels and a prequel. Don’t look for reviews of them here.

Booksmart (2019), directed by Olivia Wilde

Amy and Molly have been good girls all through school, putting the work in to get the results. And it has paid off; they will soon be off to study at Yale and Harvard. On the last day of school they realise that many of the hard-partying students they look down on have also gained entry to good colleges and they set out to make up for what they have missed out. As a tribute to female friendship Booksmart works well. As a teen comedy it is less successful, falling flat in a few places that are meant to be funny - such as the inversion of the creepy teacher trope. It’s as though the film tries too hard to be the next Bridesmaids, upping the profanity and gross-out factor to no real purpose. Kaitlyn Dever is very good as Amy. Beanie Feldstein is a little OTT in the less sympathetic role of Molly. Much has been made of this film as an undiscovered gem. Meh.

Maybe the Horse Will Talk, by Elliot Perlman

Stephen Maserov is a former teacher turned corporate lawyer, who is struggling in every aspect of life. The career change was meant to get his family ahead, but has only led to debt, fear and a marriage breakdown. He stumbles on an opportunity that could buy him some time in a precarious work situation, or could mean he loses everything. Does he have the chutzpah to go for it? Maybe the horse will talk. You don’t discover that this novel is set in Melbourne until around 60 pages in. This is likely quite deliberate as it could be set almost anywhere with a dehumanising corporate culture – New York, London, Hong Kong etcetera. It is reminiscent of the TV series Suits, with its power games, stupid working hours and business amorality. It is interesting that as Stephen gains autonomy the story setting becomes more and more Melbourne – streets, suburbs and pubs. A recurrent theme, which starts at the very first sentence, is that so many people are terrified of losing a job they hate – this is the world we live in. But the story gives hope that once we realise we are not alone in this feeling or in this world, there may be a way to make things better. This is Three Dollars on steroids; partly satire that teeters on the edge of farce – the law firm is called Freely Savage Carter Blanche - and partly polemic on sexual harassment and assault in the workplace and the toxic corporate culture that protects those in power. The story ends somewhat abruptly, leaving the reader wondering whether the horse will indeed talk.

Locke & Key (Netflix)

A strange blend of fantasy, gothic horror and teen romance, this 10-part series makes a slow build to something interesting and then a quick fade to something less so. Guidance counsellor Rendell Locke has been murdered by Sam, a disturbed student he tried to help. Nina Locke and her three children have fled the trauma in Seattle for Rendell’s hometown in Massachusetts to start over. The plan is to renovate the Key House – the old family home that Rendell left behind and told them little about. Younger son Bodie finds some old keys that call to him and start to unlock the door of his father’s dark past. The keys and their various powers are fascinating and well done, but the graphic violence can be a little much and sits oddly with the familiar high school tropes. The acting is patchy and some of the characters are inconsistent, with teenage daughter Kelsey the best of them. The need to spell out absolutely everything in flashbacks gets tedious by the last few episodes and underestimates the intelligence of the audience – it’s not that hard to figure out what has happened.

Words in Deep Blue, by Cath Crowley

Rachel is 18 and grieving. She has failed Year 12 after her brother drowned eight months ago and she can no longer bear the ocean, which she used to love. She moves back to the city, after three years away, to live with her aunt and try to get her life back on track. To do that she first has to reconnect with her friends, who don’t know her situation, especially her former best friend Henry. The action is set in and around a second hand bookshop owned by Henry’s divorcing parents that is also their family home. The chapters alternate between Rachel and Henry’s voices, which is fine to get each of their points of view on life and their friendship. Although, towards the end the repetition of events does get tedious. The book includes many letters to and from various characters that are tucked into the books in the bookshop’s library section of well-worn novels that have been annotated by many readers. This quirky conceit is interesting and integral to the plot, but is undermined by the choice of a script font for the letters, which is very hard on the eyes. It’s quite a moving tale of grief and friendship, but the romantic aspects are less credible and when it waxes poetic towards the end it risks disappearing up its own backside.

Reasons to be Cheerful, by Nina Stibbe

This odd little book resembles the Ian Dury song it is named for; it starts off as quirkily innocuous but creeps up and gets its hooks into you so that you can’t dislodge it. In Leicester 1980, 18-year-old Lizzie left school very early and has already burned through several jobs. She lives in the shadow of her overwhelming mother, a larger-than-life character who aspires to be a novelist. Lizzie finds her feet when she lands a job as a dental nurse and moves out of home to live in the flat above the practice. The dentist might be obnoxious, but she acquires some friends and even a boyfriend of sorts, although her mother manages to insert herself into this relationship. Reminiscent of Caitlin Moran’s Raised by Wolves, Reasons to be Cheerful paints a gently scathing picture of growing up in the early years of Thatcher’s Britain. Funny in a very understated way, some characters border on caricature but don’t quite topple over the line. At the centre of all is Lizzie, self-confessed weirdo who finds the strength after great sadness to strike out on her own.

Thymus Gin - Encounter Coast Spirits

This boutique distillery was opened in late 2015 at Hindmarsh Valley, just outside Victor Harbor. The handcrafted spirit is distilled in a copper still and infused with lavender and lemon thyme. It is delicious. Encounter Coast Spirits also makes vodka and several intriguing liqueurs, as well as a range of fruity vinegars, jams and chutneys. It is fantastic to see people with initiative producing top quality products that compete with the best in the world, such as the amazing spirits coming out of Victoria, Tasmania and South Australia. It is a pity however that their progress is impeded by an excessive excise of $40 per litre. This gobsmacking tax is a huge impediment to small businesses competing with the large commercial operators. It means that almost half the retail price of these top quality products goes in tax. When you consider that according to recent reports many major companies have made an art of tax avoidance it means the playing field is far from level. Gin lovers who would like to buy Australian but can’t afford these local boutique products should take heed and demand better. www.encountercoastspirits.com.au

Emma (2020), directed by Autumn de Wilde

Yet another ‘did we really need another remake?’ film, Emma is visually stunning. The costumes, architecture, décor and scenery are sumptuous and the camera lingers lovingly over them all. The adaptation is faithful to the Jane Austen novel, set in Regency England where young women must marry to secure their futures. The casting of the leads is slightly off. Anya Taylor-Joy does a nice job of meddling matchmaker Emma, but the camera’s intense focus on her very wide-set eyes is distracting. Johnny Flynn is as adorable as ever in his portrayal of the exasperated Knightly, giving him a softer edge than is often seen. A nude scene early in the piece is a treat, but his hair is all over the place in a manner completely out of sync with the period. The supporting casting is more successful - Bill Nighy, Miranda Hart, Rupert Graves and Gemma Whelan all suit their roles and Mia Goth is very good as Emma’s protégé Harriet. The overall tone is light and frothy, but there are some strange, dark notes. Several scenes of a gaggle of schoolgirls marching along dressed in red capes is reminiscent of the Handmaid’s Tale, creating a jarring note that seems unnecessary. Austen’s tale is a love story with an edge, lightly poking fun at English society’s obsession with class along the way. The film strikes all the right notes, but somehow the whole is slightly less than the sum of its parts.

Across the Void, by SK Vaughan

Astronaut May Knox wakes in the intensive care unit of her ship, her mind foggy and her memory patchy. With no idea what has happened to her crew or how her ship went off course, May has to keep herself alive and her ship functional while she tries to figure it out. The year is 2067 and the ship is returning from a mission to Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons. She has the help of the ship’s AI, which she names Eve, but with no means of communicating with NASA she is essentially on her own. There is an awful lot of exposition in the early chapters, which gets a little eye-glazing at times. There are also temporal anomalies; it’s 2067, but we’re still driving petrol cars, smoking cigarettes; and changing surnames at marriage. The action moves back and forth in time, filling in the details of May’s past and her whirlwind relationship with her husband Stephen. In between flashbacks we see May’s resourceful determination to survive. This is tense and interesting until around half way through the book, when the plot starts to get really silly. It moves from decent SF mystery/thriller to full-blown conspiracy theory soap opera with enormous plot holes and inexplicable character motivation. It was a relief to finally be done with this deeply stupid book.

Maggie’s going Nowhere, by Rose Hartley

Maggie Cotton embodies every cliché of the entitled millennial. At 29, she is in the 10th year of her three-year degree and she sponges off her long-suffering mother and inadequate boyfriend. She thinks she’s smarter, cooler and knows better than everyone else. Her saving grace is her best friend Jen, who is about to marry a total creep despite Maggie’s best efforts. Her mother cuts her off, her boyfriend dumps her and her Uni kicks her out, so resourceful Maggie moves into a caravan and starts volunteering for a charity to claim Centrelink benefits. What could possibly go wrong? Well, plenty of course and finding out just how low Maggie can go and how she lifts herself back up again is an entertaining read. Despite her awful behaviour to family and friends Maggie does have a good heart and talents beyond blow jobs, when she puts her mind to it. You can’t help liking her, event though you she needs a kick up the arse. Hartley paints a realistic and colourful picture of true friendship, family dysfunction and the minefield of modern relationships in a way that is smart and funny. Quality chick lit.

Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears (2019), directed by Tony Tilse

Phryne Fisher is in Jerusalem, searching for missing Bedouin girl Shirin. The British Palestine authorities have jailed her for trying to raise questions about what happened to her tribe 10 years earlier. Several costume changes later, the action transfers to England, where the ‘guardian angel’ who saved Shirin from the desert massacre holds the key to the crypt of tears and a curse that must be broken. The rapid action largely charges past the many plot improbabilities, paused only to continue the unnecessary and uncharacteristic romance that the TV series annoyingly departs from the Kerry Greenwood books. The costumes are gorgeous and Essie Davis is impeccable as the supremely competent Miss Fisher. The supporting cast includes a slightly creepy turn from John Waters as one of Phryne’s many exes and John Stanton as the dodgy butler. Nicole Chamoun is mesmerising in a small non-speaking part. It’s pretty silly stuff, but all good fun.

The Scholar, by Dervla McTiernan

This sequel takes place immediately after the events of The Ruin, with Detective Cormac Reilly still trying to find his place in the Galway Garda. His partner Emma finds a hit and run victim outside the University lab where she works and calls Cormac to the scene. Station politics hamper the complicated murder investigation and blocking tactics by the wealthy family that funds the lab don’t help. A second murder brings Emma under suspicion and compromises Cormac. Can they clear her name and even if they do, will their relationship survive? McTiernan’s tight prose zips the story along, making it hard to put down. Her characters are fully rounded, complex and interesting and that goes for the victims and witnesses, as well as the police investigating the murders. This is the best kind of crime writing, so it’s good to know a third Cormac Reilly novel is on the way.

Seberg (2019), directed by Benedict Andrews

The story of actress Jean Seberg is interesting and worthy of a film, unfortunately not this film. From the start there is confusion about whose story this is. Too much time and effort is spent on a fictional ‘decent’ FBI agent, who becomes obsessed with Seberg and questions the tactics against her, rather than on Seberg herself. We are told she is an activist, but don’t see any evidence of it apart from dishing out cheques and hosting parties. There is only the flimsiest treatment of her long career in the French and US film industries. The final scene between the rogue FBI agent and Seberg in Paris is unbelievably stupid. End titles disclose Seberg’s mysterious death eight years later, implying the FBI harassment broke her and was why she never worked in Hollywood again - but again no evidence. Kristen Stewart is really good as Seberg; it’s a pity her performance is lost in a mediocre film.

Kill the Queen, by Jennifer Estep

Lady Everleigh is the poor relation of the Royal family of Bellona, treated badly because of her seemingly low level magic. Her hidden skills enable her to escape a palace coup and she hides her identity to join a band of gladiators. Epic fantasy needs a few ingredients to successfully carry the reader away from prosaic reality. Strong, relatable characters; a setting that fires the imagination; a plot with enough mystery and intrigue to keep you guessing, but not so obscure as to be impenetrable; and language that binds the whole together and soars to a satisfying conclusion. Estep is an experienced fantasy writer and provides most of the essential ingredients but what lets her down is the terribly pedestrian writing. Evie is an appealing heroine, with a strong back story and an interesting future. But the plot is telegraphed from the start, the villain is pantomime and the over exposition is painful. On the first page we are told the royal family will be massacred, ok spoilers, but it then takes 100 pages for this event to take place, as every element of the royal family and Evie’s place in it is told in tedious detail. The action picks up as she becomes an improbably successful gladiator, but the thwarted romance with a stereotypical bad boy ticks all the cliché boxes. Ultimately this is a yawn rather than a yarn and the inevitable sequels can stay on the shelf.

H is for Happiness (2019), directed by John Sheedy

Candice Phee is a super smart but slightly naïve 12-year-old who maintains a sunny outlook on life despite her dysfunctional family. Her mother is severely depressed following the cot death of Candice’s baby sister. Her dad is permanently on the computer and doesn’t speak to his brother, Rich Uncle Brian, following a business quarrel. Candice is determined to fix her broken family, aided by her new friend – Douglas Benson from another dimension – and a horse. This absurdist tale dips into cartoon territory, without ever going over the top. Daisy Axon perfectly portrays the precocious, but appealing, Candice. She is ably supported by a terrific cast, including Richard Roxburgh, Deborah Mailman and Miriam Margolyes. Based on the book My Life as an Alphabet, by Barry Jonsberg, this film is funny and moving, with some gently educational things to say about bullying, depression and family relationships. Little jokes inserted throughout provide a nice payoff at the end. It deserves a much larger audience than it is likely to receive, judging by how poorly it has been marketed. It covers similar territory to the much-hyped Paper Planes, another Australian film from a few years ago, but does it much better.

Your Own Kind of Girl, by Clare Bowditch

In a different kind of memoir, singer-songwriter Clare Bowditch details her long struggle for body acceptance starting from a very young age. The book has a curious overlapping structure. The first, and more substantial section, details Clare’s childhood, the slow accretion of anxiety that led to her breakdown at the age of 21 and her slow, ongoing recovery. The second goes into her relationship with music and her career, which are inextricably linked with the development of her relationship with her life partner Marty. It’s a bit odd at the start of the second section to realise that the early gigging and songwriting were happening at the same time as the increasing unwellness. But this actually works well to demonstrate that people seemingly functioning well and doing good creative work may still be touched by mental illness. In fact, of course, it can happen to anyone. Even people with supportive families, good friends and loving relationships can struggle with anxiety, eating disorders and getting help to deal with them. Imagine then how much more difficult it is for people without those things in their lives. Clare Bowditch is honest, funny and empathetic, baring her soul in the interest of helping others. Her book is an entertaining, if sometimes painful read, offering insights and resources to those who may need them.

Ruin, by Dervla McTiernan

A seeming suicide leads to the reopening of a 20-year-old overdose case; were they both actually murder? Detective Cormac Reilly must investigate Maud Blake, the woman who links both cases. He was the officer on the scene of the overdose death, in his first months on the job. What did he miss? At the same time he has to navigate the complex politics of the Galway police department, as a recent transfer in from Dublin. He has learned a lot in the last 20 years of policing and he will need all his experience to get to the bottom of this mess. McTiernan weaves a dark tale of abuse, tragedy and treachery, deceit and corruption – and that’s just the cops. The slightly world-weary Reilly is believable and relateable, stepping down in his career to support his partner. His move back to the west country brings personal and professional challenges as he works out who he can trust. A sequel has been published in what looks likely to be a satisfying series.

JoJo Rabbit (2019), directed by Taika Waititi

In Germany 1945, 10-year-old Johannes has been indoctrinated by Hitler Youth despite his moderate family. Adolf Hitler is his imaginary best friend and he strives to be what his friend expects. His obsession starts to unravel when he discovers his mother has been sheltering a Jewish girl and he has to decide what to do. The opening music is the Beatles singing in German over historical footage of crowds of Hitler fans demonstrating the mass hysteria of teenage girls. The tone is absurd rather than comic, eliciting the occasional smile, rather than laughs. And then every now and again Waititi smacks the audience in the face with a scene that shows the reality of Hitler’s Germany and the true horror of war. The accents are all over the place, which is a bit distracting in the early part of the film before the story really gets going. Roman Griffin Davis does well as JoJo and Scarlett Johansen is very good as JoJo’s loving mother. Thomasin McKenzie, Sam Rockwell and Alfie Allen provide good support. Casting comic actors Rebel Wilson and Steven Merchant as Nazi extremists was an interesting choice that adds to the sense of the absurd but little else. The closing music is David Bowie’s Heroes, which provides a nice counterpoint to the start.

A Quiet Life, by Natasha Walter

The mid twentieth century Soviet spy ring gets another workout, from a slightly different angle, in this quiet thriller. Naïve American Laura sails to Britain in 1939 to visit family, meeting onboard a dynamic young activist who influences her political views and becomes a friend. An outsider in every way, Laura keeps the different parts of her life separate from the start. Her family knows nothing of the communist meetings and rallies and her acquaintances know little of the decadent social set she is drawn into by her ambitious cousins. Her worlds are brought together when she meets and marries Edward Last, who turns out to also have a foot in both camps. Laura’s story is based on that of a real-life spy couple and it’s a fascinating examination of the dilemma of a loyal wife, under enormous pressure from all quarters when her husband disappears. In the time spent waiting for resolution after Edward has gone, Laura discovers that she hardly knew him at all and her divided life looks set to continue indefinitely, albeit in a different setting.

The Comet Seekers, by Helen Sedgewick

Astronomer Roisin is from Ireland; Francois is a chef from Bayeux, France. They meet in Antarctica and bond over Roisin’s obsession with comets. The story takes us back and forth in time, following the visits of various comets to the solar system and the effect they have on the Earth and its inhabitants. These effects are seen through the prism of one particular family, which has an almost mystical connection with comets that is passed on through the generations. We also follow the arc of Roisin’s relationship with her ‘kissing cousin’ – the push and pull of family and love versus that of science, the stars and the wider world. Beautifully written, with an almost poetic application of the science,the magical realism aspect gets a bit much as the intersection of Roisin and Francois’ lives becomes more than coincidence. The story comes full circle in more ways than one as the special two come to terms with their respective pasts, but it has perhaps taken too long and too many visiting comets to get there.

Sean the Sheep: Farmageddon (2019), directed by Will Becher & Richard Phelan

What a pleasure it is to enter the funny, clever and joyous world of Aardman. A blatant rip-off of ET, Farmageddon is a much better film. It avoids the button-pushing clichés of its progenitor, while retaining its moving moments, along with continuous LOLs. The beauty of Aardman animation is that it makes films ostensibly for kids that actually operate on several levels, with many smart jokes aimed at adults. And it is all done with so few words. Gestures, noises and facial expressions do the bulk of the communication work, which is particularly meaningful in a film about an alien visiting Earth. The music is well chosen to support the non-verbal communication, especially in the second half. It’s a nice touch that traditional farmyard antagonists wind up becoming allies to save the day.

The van Apfel Girls Are Gone, by Felicity McLean

A lowly lab technician in Baltimore, Tikka seems to have moved as far away as possible to escape the childhood tragedy that haunts her. She is certainly not in the US seeking fortune or fame. Recalled home to the Sydney suburbs because of her sister’s illness, Tikka has to acknowledge that she never has and never will escape her guilt and sadness over the disappearance of the three van Apfel girls when she was 11 and her sister 14. Was the creepy teacher involved? Was it the violent religious father? Or did the girls just run away? Twenty years later, it seems no-one will ever know. You can almost smell the gum trees and mangroves as McLean evokes the long hot summer days of an Australian suburban childhood. Outwardly serene and ordinary, secrets and resentments lurk beneath the surface. Discussion and emotions are repressed, so that an event as disturbing as the disappearance of three sisters is even more shocking – not in our backyard! It is a little hard to believe that Tikka and her sister never told anyone what they knew; surely they would have said something? But the reality is that even now there is a taboo on discussing domestic violence and sexual abuse, with a misplaced sense of shame for the victims. There is also a strong culture of not dobbing, especially among kids. So on further reflection it is all too likely that children would keep secrets that haunt them into adulthood.

Sweet Sorrow, by David Nicholls

Charlie has just finished school, having trashed his final exam. His mates are working and he’s at a loose end so meanders around town on his bike, occasionally dipping in to a book. Charlie’s dad is unemployed and in a deep depression following the failure of his music shop business. His mother has left, taking his little sister and leaving Charlie as virtual carer of his father. The world starts to look brighter when he meets Fran and gets drawn into her world of amateur theatre and a production of Romeo and Juliet. As a tale of first love, coming of age, outgrowing your peer group, the novel works quite well. Charlie is a far from perfect hero, but he has a lot to deal with and could easily take a wrong turn. Unfortunately the tone is very uneven, with Nicholls switching in and out of the voice of Charlie at 16 and Charlie as an adult. This is compounded by insertion of snippets of Charlie as an actual adult, which add nothing to the story and in fact undermine it by foreshadowing much of the outcome.

Little Women (2019), directed by Greta Gerwig

After several film and TV adaptations, did we really need yet another interpretation of Little Women? It turns out we did. This adaptation is faithful to the main events of the book but presents them in a different way, which for the most part works very well. The film moves back and forth in time over seven or eight years, comparing and contrasting different events and feelings in the lives of the March girls. There are a couple of glitches in the timeline, but it’s a minor quibble. The cast is outstanding, with Saoirse Ronin bringing out Jo’s passion and frustration at the lot of a girl in the 19th century and Florence Pugh portraying Amy as a brat who grows into a classy woman. It is a little odd that in this classic American tale, none of the four girls is played by an American. Emma Watson and Eliza Scanlen were interesting choices for Meg and Beth, but the four actors work well as an ensemble of believable sisters who fight hard but always have each other’s backs. Laura Dern makes a fine Marmee and Meryl Streep is a hoot as Aunt March. The details of period costumes and buildings are meticulous and the cinematography makes the most of the gorgeous New England setting. Gerwig’s screenplay makes the implied feminism of the novels more explicit, with well-made points about the economics of marriage and women’s limited choices. There is a slight blurring of identities at the end, with the book Little Women accredited to JL March, but this seems appropriate given the wide acknowledgement that Louisa May Alcott’s novel was heavily autobiographical.

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (2019), directed by JJ Abrams

What a hot mess this film is. The dead rise again and again and again, to the point that it’s almost a zombie movie. The parts that use outtakes of Carrie Fisher from previous films just don’t look right and the script has very obviously been tailored around them. There are few surprises, as most plot points are heavily telegraphed. It is just not possible to be carried away by the story as there are way too many eye-rolling ‘oh really’ moments, many involving how people get to places and how they survive the many, many crashes and shootouts. Daisy Ridley as Rey is the best thing about the film; she does her best with limited material. The end of the franchise really deserved better, but hopefully it is now finally dead and buried.

Akin, by Emma Donoghue

At 79 widower Noah lives alone in his Manhattan apartment with only his much-loved wife Joan’s voice in his head for company. They were childless by choice and following the death of his younger sister Noah has no family. He is about to embark on a trip to his home town, Nice, in the south of France, for the first time since leaving at the age of four, during World War II. Noah suddenly finds himself thrust into the role of temporary guardian to an 11-year-old boy, his sister’s grandson Michael, whom he has never met and whose existence he was barely aware of. Discovery of some strange old photographs of his mother’s has impelled Noah to investigate the circumstance of her staying in Nice until the end of the war after sending Noah to his father in New York. Michael’s company both helps and hinders the investigation as Noah comes to terms with history and starts to see a different future. Donoghue evokes a strong sense of place as Noah moves between several different worlds. Her characters are believable and sympathetic, despite their flaws and with few false notes in the developing relationship between an old academic and a troubled child. At the end of the day it’s all about family over everything.

Wild Rose (2019), directed by Tom Harper

Leaving Glasgow prison with an ankle monitor, Rose-Lynn’s first stop is her boyfriend’s place for a quick shag in the park. Then it’s off to her mother’s house, where her two children have been living while she’s been inside. Children and prison have been annoying interruptions to Rose-Lynn’s aspirations to a brilliant career as a country singer in Nashville. Her mother gets her a job as a cleaner and tries to bring her down to earth, but Rose-Lynn has big dreams and will do almost anything to achieve them. Jessie Buckley is compelling as Rose-Lynn, imbuing her prickly character with enough sympathy to overcome her often-challenging behaviour. It helps that she enables the audience to totally believe in Rose’s talent and therefore her crazy dreams don’t seem completely impossible. Julie Walters is terrific as her long-suffering mother, and the actress playing her vulnerable daughter is exceptional. Sophie Okonedo heads up a fine supporting cast; Nicole’s Taylor’s screenplay is sharp, funny and unsentimental; and the music is great even if you’re not a fan of country.