Movie Review: Home Again

Despite its gutsy topic, Home Again doesn’t quite land as hard as it could have but is still a decent attempt from debut filmmaker Hallie Meyers-Shyer.

⭐ ⭐ 
Elle Cahill

When Alice Kinney (Reese Witherspoon) moves to Los Angeles after taking a break from her marriage, she struggles to keep it all together for her daughters, and on a rare night out on her birthday, she starts flirting with young filmmaker Harry (Pico Alexander). She agrees to let Harry and his two filmmaking buddies move into her guest house for a couple of days, which ends up turning into weeks as Alice and Harry start up a relationship, and her daughters begin to rely on the young men as mentors and role models.

When movies deal with older women going out with younger men, they are generally portrayed as women who negatively influence the younger male and take advantage of their youth. Thankfully Home Again doesn’t stoop to this level. The film is merely about a woman rediscovering her sexual freedom and coming to terms with her continuing her life alone.

After Harry and Alice fail to sleep with each other the first night they meet, Alice attempts to set boundaries, and makes no apologies for being a mother and having other responsibilities that must come first. With the reappearance of Alice’s ex-husband Austen (Michael Sheen), she again makes no apologies for choosing to put him first over the guys to give her daughters a chance at having two parents who get along. Compared to more recent films about mothers trying to get back into the dating scene, this approach is a breath of fresh air.

Home Again is a debut feature for director Hallie Meyers-Shyer and maybe it is this inexperience that lets the film down, but the brilliance of Sheen, Candice Bergen and Witherspoon at her disposal, they were completely underutilised.

Sheen tries earnestly to bring more to the role but the flat material meant that he could have been any old schmuck. Similarly, Bergen’s fantastic comedic ability could have been made use of more but she spends the whole film being pushed to the background, making the odd funny appearance but remaining largely invisible.

The humour is aimed strongly at women, and for the most part delivers, but it doesn’t quite match the comedy that can be seen in other woman-focused comedies such as Bridesmaids. The two stand-outs of the film who beautifully played off each other was Alice’s two daughters. Lola Flannery played neurotic pre-teen Isabel whose impressive ability to list her depression systems and the medication she should be on, is a comment on today’s society and hilariously timed. Little Eden Grace Redfield, who plays Alice’s young daughter Rosie, follows up her sister’s neurotises with her blunt straight-talking, making her seem wise beyond her few years.

The film is a fair attempt at telling the story of a complicated family situation and how the people who become your family don’t necessarily need to be blood. Unfortunately its plot holes leave you with more questions than answers and this holds it back from being a nice, light-hearted film.

Home Again is available in Australian cinemas from October 19

Image courtesy of Entertainment One Films.

Movie Review – Thor: Ragnarok

Thor: Ragnarok is by no means the finest Marvel movie, but it does a fine job of keeping up with the pack.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ 
Zachary Cruz-Tan

If there is one thing true about the Marvel Cinematic Universe it’s that Thor is about as interesting a movie hero as the dried up skin flaking on my heel. It’s the failing of any mythological figure – they are bound by the limitations of their respective traits. Medusa cannot do anything other than turn infidels to stone. Ares knows only how to wage war. No matter how many family squabbles you throw at him, Thor can still only command lightning. So what do you do? Run with it and make it as much fun as possible, I guess.

Thor: Ragnarok is a delightful step up from the first two movies because it proves Marvel is capable of running self-diagnostics. Thor and Thor: The Dark World were horrendous. You don’t take a boring mythical juggernaut and dump him in New Mexico. That’s like trying to treat depression with Schindler’s List. As a result, Ragnarok is damage control. Its director, Taika Waititi, whose What We Do in the Shadows had me guffawing like a buffoon, is the emergency physician. His remedy is simple: Thor is a hulking lug without brains or a character to develop, so I shall construct around him a world that is infinitely more exciting. And it is.

This is the kind of movie that knows precisely what it is and what it isn’t, what it can and cannot do. For example, it can deliver amazing action set pieces and some truly beautiful imagery, but cannot be as deep or insightful as Batman Begins or Captain America: Civil War. Waititi’s approach is fundamentally helpful. He doesn’t try to beef up the lousy characters or outdo more successful superhero films but simply lets the chemistry of his cast flow with the outrageous dialogue.

Thor is once again played by Chris Hemsworth. This time, his home of Asgard is under threat of destruction by Hela (Cate Blanchett), another mythic figure bound to her eternal moniker of “goddess of death”, which is unfortunate because no matter how hard she may try, she cannot play anyone else but the villain. Thor, meanwhile, is stranded on a faraway garbage planet, ruled by the Grandmaster (Jeff Goldblum in Goldblum overdrive), who enjoys pitting superheroes against each other as some kind of intergalactic blood sport. So you can imagine Thor’s consternation and beastly grunting when the Grandmaster forbids him from saving his home.

Let’s face it, this isn’t a compelling plot, least of all because Asgard as a fantastical ethereal paradise looks more like the blown up internal mechanisms of a wristwatch. Hela’s dialogue is all exposition and snark and very little intelligence. The scenes on the garbage planet are colourful and alive, but after you’ve seen one fight-to-the-death arena presided over by a psychotic dictator, you’ve seen them all, especially if the movie’s trailers have already given away all the best bits.

So the plot is merely serviceable. We know the characters are thin soup. And yet I had a really good time with this. I appreciate an action movie that can make me laugh earnestly, that doesn’t betray the idiosyncrasies of its quirky director, that adopts an approach and sticks with it for better or worse. I can’t recall a single memorable quote (except perhaps “the devil’s anus”) but I remember laughing a lot, being impressed by the quality of the entire production, and thanking the Norse gods for finally giving Darcy the day off.

Thor: Ragnarok is available in Australian cinemas from October 26 

Image courtesy of Marvel Studios 2017

Cunard British Film Festival 2017

Jawbone

Unpretentious and unforgiving, Jawbone will make your head spin.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ½

Rhys Graeme-Drury

A former youth boxing champion, Jimmy (This is England’s Johnny Harris) has reached middle age and found himself without a purpose, a job and a home. Looking to pick himself up off the canvas, Jimmy recruits the help of gym owner Bill (Ray Winstone), corner man Eddie (Michael Smiley) and financier Joe (Ian McShane) so that he can step back into the ring for his long overdue comeback fight.

Dripping with blood, sweat and tears, Jawbone isn’t a glorified take on boxing; a washed-up alcoholic alone in the world, Jimmy’s plight is more closely aligned with the titular character in Ken Loach’s I, Daniel Blake, as he fights for welfare and his home on top of victory in the ring. Where Rocky is rousing, Jawbone is about fighting tooth and nail for survival.

Perfectly capturing this is Harris in the lead role; also serving as screenwriter, Harris puts his heart and soul into both the script and his performance, bringing geezers like Winstone and Smiley along for the ride as well. Harris’ writing affords all three a substantial amount of emotional heft and they carry it off with aplomb.

All this culminates in a raw and punishing fight that doesn’t pull its punches. Director Thomas Napper gets up and close and personal, placing you in the midst of every swing, sidestep and slap. What Jawbone lacks in polish it makes up for it character, emotion and genuine catharsis.

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That Good Night

John Hurt effortlessly carries his last film, even as its theatre origins let it down.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ½

Michael Philp

Ralph is an elderly, cantankerous writer (John Hurt) facing death. Hoping to make amends, he invites his estranged son, Michael (Max Brown), to his villa for a weekend of confessions. Things go awry when Michael brings his partner Cassie (Erin Richards), and Ralph brings out his bitter side.

 

There’s a (mostly justifiable) sense of self-indulgence to That Good Night. Partly, it’s that Ralph is a famous writer who rattles off beautiful poetry whenever he wants, but it’s also that this is John Hurt’s last film, so his musings on life and death carry particular weight. You can’t blame him for indulging either. Few actors have the talent to warrant an entire film dedicated to their own mortality, so it seems fitting to give Hurt one last opportunity to show off his abilities.

 

He carries it all, too. Surrounded by adequate co-stars – and Charles Dance with the gravitas of a small planet – Hurt stands head and shoulders above every other aspect of the film. His performance is beautifully naturalistic, rising above its theatre roots to deliver a compelling snapshot of a man coming to terms with his end.

 

Sadly, the film itself can’t quite match him. Director Eric Styles does his best to move things away from the script’s theatre origins, using sweeping vistas and excellent colour to highlight Portugal’s countryside, but it’s not quite enough. He just can’t escape that theatre vibe – slightly heightened and stiff. The worst offender is the dialogue, which is needlessly expository and workmanlike at times. However, even as the rest of the film struggles to keep up, Hurt keeps it all together. A fitting end, then, for an actor who certainly did not go gentle into that good night.

 Cunard British Film Festival runs in Perth from October 26th – November 15th 

Images courtesy of Palace Films & Cunard British Film Festival.

Movie Review – The Snowman

Tomas Alfredson’s thriller The Snowman starts out solid, but quickly melts into a murky puddle.

⭐ ⭐ 
Rhys Graeme-Drury

Based on the book of the same name by Jo Nesbø, The Snowman sees Michael Fassbender play Harry Hole; a hard-boiled, yet scruffy detective who, like many of his ilk, is an alcoholic, chain-smoking insomniac who only has something to live for when he has a case to dedicate himself too. As luck would have it, a case lands in his lap when Katrine Bratt (Rebecca Ferguson) rolls into town with a cold case that needs thawing out.

If, like me, you were hankering for a slick Scandinavian thriller packed to the rafters with grisly killings then you’ll find that need only serviced by half; The Snowman is undeniably gory and macabre, with limbs and decapitations left, right and centre. What it clearly lacks is polish, with the cinematography feeling flat and pallid, the editing disjointed and the overall execution sorely lacking across the board.

The script, penned by Peter Straughan, Hossein Amini and Søren Sveistrup, can be commended for not spoon-feeding audiences exposition, but joining the dots is something of a chore when the narrative lurches from scene to scene with little forward momentum to speak of. The editing is the guilty culprit here, entering and ending scenes in odd ways and robbing the film of that all-important rhythm that keeps you engrossed.

Strangely, Alfredson often chooses to shoot a number of scenes from a distance, such as through a window from the outside looking in. It creates an icy detachment to the characters at a point where we should be getting under their skin and learning to care for their troubles. Ultimately, The Snowman is deathly boring, especially during its meandering second act.

Fassbender is a good fit for the role but is given very little to work with outside of the cookie-cutter cop archetype. The same can be said of Ferguson, who has an interesting arc until it freezes, dead in its tracks. JK Simmons, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Chloë Sevigny and (weirdly) Val Kilmer complete an ensemble in which no one truly shines.

The Snowman will sorely disappoint anyone holding out for a taut and compelling thriller in the same vein as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo or Se7en. In the hands of a maestro like David Fincher this concept could have gone the distance, but as it stands, the creative team it has been lumped with haven’t made it work, and the result is a squelchy and cold procedural that is leagues below TV fare like Broadchurch or Top of the Lake. My recommendation is to let this one wash away and be forgotten.

The Snowman is available in Australian cinemas from October 19 

Image (c) Universal Pictures 2017

Movie Review – Brigsby Bear

Brigsby Bear is endearingly sweet and earnest. Shame, then, that a lack of care brings down what would otherwise be a fine, lovable film.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐
Michael Philp

James Pope (Kyle Mooney) is approaching 30. He lives with his parents (Mark Hamill, Jane Adams) in an underground bunker, locked into a routine of study and watching the one TV show available to him – Brigsby Bear. A new episode, filled with age-appropriate life-lessons, has turned up every week for the past 25 years, and James has built his entire world around it. That is until the police burst in and arrest his “parents” for kidnapping him as a child. Naturally lost and socially awkward, James sets out to find new friends and give Brigsby Bear the finale it deserves.

Brigsby Bear’s intentions are apparent within minutes of James exiting the bunker. Asked for information on his captors, James calls them “A little older, and boring, I guess.” He’s spent the last 25 years only speaking to two people, and he apparently knows nothing about them. You could call that a plot-hole, but it’s just the film diverting you away from things it doesn’t care about, namely real emotional depth. Sure, Brigsby knows that it needs some level of emotion, but it’s clearly more in it for the fun of watching James make new friends.

Credit where it’s due, the film is good at that stuff. James’ new relationships are delightfully positive and free of cynicism. You’ll wait for the penny to drop – for someone to take advantage of the poor soul – but it never happens. Everyone’s purely interested in helping James in their own way, and that makes the film at least enjoyable to watch. It strains credulity sometimes (no exploitation at all?) but if you can look past that you’ll have a good time.

On the other hand, there’s a darkness at the heart of Brigsby that it just doesn’t want to deal with. The film wants to acknowledge the truth of James’ situation, but it has no idea how to, so it settles for pointing and then running away.

That’s the lack of care that drags the film down. Everyone’s so happy, and James is so awkwardly endearing, that Brigsby thinks a lack of emotional detail doesn’t matter. But that detail is what carries the best of its peers. Judged against the giants of indie film – Little Miss Sunshine, for instance – Brigsby falls disappointingly short. It just doesn’t care enough about its characters, not even James. Brigsby would rather smile and bask in childhood nostalgia than deal with its main character’s pain. Maybe in a few years, the filmmakers will have the skill to do both, but right now they only seem capable of smiling.

Brigsby Bear is available in Australian cinemas from October 26 

Image courtesy of Sony Pictures 

Movie Review – Ingrid Goes West

This clever dark comedy will leave you wondering exactly who’s “following” you on social media…

⭐ ⭐ ⭐
Elle Cahill

In a world where we share our personal details and activities all over social media, how often do we stop to consider who has access to view our various posts and accounts? After seeing Ingrid Goes West, you’ll probably want to revisit your privacy settings…

Recently released from a mental institution, Ingrid (Aubrey Plaza) decides to move to California to start over. Following a chance meeting with her favourite Instagram star Taylor Sloane (Elizabeth Olsen), Ingrid sets out to ensure the pair become friends, inserting herself into Taylor’s glamorous life with the aim of building her own Instagram following.

Where Ingrid Goes West succeeds is in its sincere, albeit not entirely flattering, reflection of Gen Y. Most filmmakers tend to go down the path of the Gen Y stereotype; selfish, shallow and technology obsessed, and while director and co-writer Matt Spicer does adhere to some personality types, he presents them with unforgiving honesty.

Every character is someone any of us would recognise; there’s the overly upbeat, happy-go-lucky girl who has a knack for putting a shiny gloss on her life, even though it’s an absolute mess. There’s the troll or stalker whose uncanny ability to dig up information verges on psychotic, and the pretentious artist determined to avoid the corporate trap. Finally, there’s the rich guy who does what he wants, when he wants, and gives zero fucks about anything other than which party he’ll be able to get his next hit at.

All of these characters support the main trio of performers. Plaza brings her usual offbeat, dry humour and gives Ingrid a certain sensitivity and instability that makes you empathise with her throughout. Meanwhile, Olsen plays Insta-famous to perfection, making you wonder who is really the crazy one – Taylor or Ingrid. But the stand out here is O’Shea Jackson Jr as Ingrid’s trusting landlord and fling; on top of being hilarious, he’s the only truly endearing character in the whole film.

Ingrid Goes West ultimately looks at the mental health repercussions in our technology driven world. Drawing similarities to Frank, Welcome to Me, and The Voices, the film is an ode to our generation and also functions as a warning. Social media is an integral part of our lives, but there’s also a dark side that’s often overlooked. Ingrid Goes West puts that dark side under a microscope to show just how far people will go in their desire to construct a certain image of themselves on social media.

Ingrid Goes West is available in Australian cinemas from October 26 

Image courtesy of Rialto Distribution 

Movie Review – Happy Death Day

Live. Die. Repeat… wait, where have we heard that one before?

⭐ ⭐ ⭐
Corey Hogan 

Tree Gelbman (Jessica Rothe) awakens hungover on her birthday in the dorm room of Carter (Israel Broussard), a boy she doesn’t remember going home with the prior night. Heading home, she goes about her day and tries (mostly unsuccessfully) to enjoy her birthday, until, on her way to a party that night, she’s tormented by a mysterious masked assailant and promptly stabbed to death… until she wakes up once again on the morning of her birthday, back in the dorm room. Jessica soon discovers she’s stuck in a perpetual loop, forced to relive the same day (and her subsequent death) over and over until she can solve who her murderer is and put a stop to them.

It was only a matter of time before the high concept of something like Groundhog Day became a free-for-all for Hollywood to milk. It’s actually quite surprising that it’s taken this long. Apparently a fit for any genre, the results so far have been both surprisingly good (sci-fi actioner Edge of Tomorrow) and ponderously feeble (tween anti-bullying PSA Before I Fall). Happy Death Day sits somewhere in the middle of that scale, though thankfully it’s a little closer to the unexpectedly decent end.

That said, don’t expect anything overly thought-provoking; there’s no denying that HDD is an unashamedly daft and daffy time that invites you to turn off your brain and just roll with it. This is an easy and enjoyable enough task, thanks largely to its best asset – the attractive, fresh-faced Jessica Rothe, who has graduated from a small part in La La Land to leading lady. She balances the terror and confusion of her doomed situation with a healthy amount of charm and humour that earns her appeal, and even manages to challenge the stereotypes usually associated with the female victim in slasher flicks.

This is the other startle; it’s genuinely quite funny throughout, with an unexpectedly quirky and bizarre sense of humour keeping it consistently amusing and entertaining. There’s even a few small emotional moments involving Tree coping with her mother’s death and reconciling with her father that don’t feel forced.

Given his bad to so-so previous films (including Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones and Scouts Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse), Happy Death Day is at least a confident step in the right direction for director Christopher Landon. It’s unashamedly trashy, and not all that original, especially given how creative the horror genre has proven to be the last couple of years, but it is good fun, and throws in just enough curveballs to feel fresh and engaging enough to kill an hour and a half. And to its credit, it at least uses a punchline to acknowledge its resemblance to Groundhog Day.

Happy Death Day is available in Australian cinemas from October 12 

Image (c) Universal Pictures 2017

Movie Review – The Mountain Between Us

An admirable attempt at an adventure film falls short with a misplaced focus on a weak romantic subplot.

⭐ ⭐ ½
Elle Cahil

When Ben (Idris Elba) and Alex’s (Kate Winslet) small charter plane suddenly crashes, the pair must battle the snowy wilderness to find their way home. While making the treacherous journey, they begin to develop affections for each other, as they come to realise they may never make it home…

Winslet and Elba may be in fine form here, but this adaptation of Charles Martin’s romantic adventure novel squanders its potential by not making full use of their acting calibre. What could have been an incredibly uplifting story of survival, instead only breeds disappointment and exasperation. Director Hany Abu-Assad (Paradise Now) pushes the bounds of what you’re willing to accept, with some of the more dramatic moments entering unconvincing territory.

Meanwhile, the romantic chemistry between Winslet and Elba is stale and contrived. Winslet is supposed to be a photographer who frequents war zones, yet her reaction to their crisis is erratic and irrational; not what you’d expect from someone who is regularly surrounded by intense situations. Elba balances her out by remaining cool and collected, but in doing so he almost becomes too emotionally disconnected. Beau Bridges’ appearance is quite memorable, although short-lived, but the best performance comes from the dog. Aptly named Dog, he playfully leaps through the snow and explores nooks and crannies, regularly providing cheerful relief.

Thankfully, Abu-Assad at least gets the visuals right, with cinematographer Mandy Walker pulling out all the stops. Filmed on location in the Purcell Mountains of British Columbia, Walker makes full use of the landscape; dramatic sweeping shots highlight the volatile nature of the location, while Walker’s gentle touch simultaneously magnifies the beauty of the mountains. She’s developed a bit of a trademark for breathing life into natural scenery through films such as Australia, Tracks and Red Riding Hood.

Overall, the film is passable as a survival story, but the romantic elements don’t hold up, and lead to corny moments that jar with the rest of the experience, despite the best efforts of all involved.

The Mountain Between Us is available in Australian cinemas from October 12

Image courtesy of Twentieth Century Fox

Movie Review – The Only Living Boy in New York

Get ready to roll your eyes and endure another insufferable upper class New York family – and this time they aren’t even generous enough to be interesting.

 

⭐ ⭐
Corey Hogan

The youngest of a wealthy New York family, Thomas Webb (Callum Turner) has just graduated college and is trying to find his place in the world. His best friend Mimi (Kiersey Clemons) does not reciprocate the romantic feelings he has for her, and his father (Pierce Brosnan), a renowned publisher, does not feel his son’s writing is worthy of his business. Thomas finds solace in the words of wisdom spouted from the alcoholic author W.F. (Jeff Bridges) who has just moved in next door, though even he can’t comfort Thomas when he learns that his father is having an affair with an attractive mistress (Kate Beckinsale).

Well, try though he may have, it looks like director Marc Webb is a confirmed one-hit wonder. After the funny, witty and original (500) Days of Summer he’s flailed around and failed to recapture his magic in both the tentpole blockbuster arena (The Amazing Spider-Man) and the indie comedy-drama world (Gifted). The final nail in the coffin is The Only Living Boy in New York, a “classy” Bourgeois drama that reeks of an attempt to emulate Whit Stillman, Woody Allen and Peter Bogdanovich, but, sadly, isn’t half as clever as it thinks it is.

In smugly assuming he’s outsmarted his audience (he hasn’t), he’s on a completely different wavelength, rendering the majority of his characters unlikable. For the most part, it feels like we’re attending a fancy dinner we weren’t invited to, only to be forced to stand in the corner and look on, while desperately wanting to leave.

Amidst all the pseudo-intellectual ramblings, a first-rate cast falls flat on its ass. Unfortunately, most of this is down to the “boy” at its centre – the relatively unknown Callum Turner. He doesn’t quite fit the role, and lacks chemistry with most of the more experienced actors he’s working with; a fatal flaw, given that he’s the only one to interact with the rest of the film’s characters. Given that he does little to earn our sympathies over his arc (or lack of), it’s hard to justify investing time in his story.

In fact, every player in this tedious chess game suffers a similar lapse in likability that becomes increasingly infuriating – most gratingly, the hazy motivations of the mistress and Mimi’s jealousy when Thomas moves on, despite condemning him to the friend-zone beforehand. To its credit, Only Living Boy tries to make things deeper with a twist at its climax, but it’s one that stretches and feels a bit ridiculous – not to mention that it’s hardly an original one. The stars we know at least do what they’re reliable for; Bridges, Beckinsale and Brosnan are respectively gruff, seductive and charming, but there’s plenty of better places we can see them.

Those wanting to feel a bit classier seated in a cinema might get a kick out of this, but it seems unlikely anyone else – even the snobby hip crowd in its aim – will enjoy this meandering misfire.

The Only Living Boy in New York is available in Australian cinemas from September 12

Image courtesy of Roadshow Films 

Movie Review – Battle of the Sexes

At a time where the genders are more at odds with each other than ever, history’s most famous sports match between the two couldn’t be timelier.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ½
Corey Hogan 

It’s the early 70’s and the women’s movement is on the rise, as is the growing popularity of female athletes. When the current female tennis champion, Billie Jean King (Emma Stone), is denied equal pay to her male counterparts by her label, she leaves and forms her own with a group of other top women players. Their growing following catches the eye of the former men’s champion Bobby Riggs (Steve Carell), a notorious hustler with a gambling addiction, who soon begins placing bets that he can take on these women. Fearing her progress for women could be undone by this, King agrees to take on Riggs in a match billed as the “Battle of the Sexes”.

If you’re all for Hollywood’s political agendas dominating its films, you’ll most likely enjoy Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Farisz’ dramatization of one of history’s most famous tennis matches, but if – like me – you’ve become sick of it, you’ll find Battle of the Sexes becomes a little tiresome. Thankfully, it has enough positives – namely strong performances and moments of great spectacles – to make it bearable.

First and foremost, Emma Stone is the standout. Already on the finest form of her career after La La Land, she matches and possibly even surpasses that Oscar-winning role in getting under the skin of Billie Jean King. She’s determined and fierce, but far from flawless, as she juggles the enormous pressures of representing her entire gender with her personal issues.

Less sturdy is Steve Carell’s Bobby Riggs; Carell is typically excellent and very funny as the famous show-boater, but Simon Beaufoy’s script handles him unevenly, seemingly altering his character at times that feel advantageous to the message he’s pushing. Riggs begins as a truly loving family man who’s made a few mistakes, then, after a lengthy absence, jarringly transforms into a misogynistic, narcissistic egomaniac obsessed with humiliating women for seemingly no reason.

It’s these points where the film feels less like it’s telling the real story than servicing today’s political opinions. The widely held speculation that Riggs played unusually poorly and purposefully lost the battle to win a bet against himself and pay off his debts is conveniently ignored.

There’s also surprisingly little tennis; though when the great match does finally show, boy, what a spectacle it is to behold. It’s brilliantly immersive, and really does feel like you’re there among the millions of people filling Madison Square Garden. It’s ultimately these real moments that triumph over the superfluities and make Battle of the Sexes emerge a winner.

Battle of the Sexes is available in Australian cinemas from September 28

Image courtesy of Twentieth Century Fox