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The Prestige

Outside a church stands a man with a microphone. Over on his left are three school boys, waiting for the bus and to hear anything that makes up the traffic that flows down the main road. Passersby pick up a pace when the squawk and squeak of the portable speaker system kicks in. Rambling and reeling off scripture, the gent diverts his attention toward the supposed mystic to his religion, "And what do they call that fiction writer who dreamt up Evolution? David? Robert? Chris?"

Nobody answers back from the comfort of their wait. Save for the man making the third session of the day for The Prestige. Starring a host of magic wielding plentiful with hands holding Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale, Michael Caine and Scarlett Johansson.

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Duck - Written by Stella Feehily - Downstairs Theatre, Seymour Centre - 23/06/06

Pause for even a second in the automatic doors of the Seymour Centre and feel the clench of the glass swings go cracking a rib. Breathing and walking take a chance and go out with the doors unsure of the passage. In or out, either way there is nothing like skittish electronics.

Menacing with just a bat and hood, an onstage goon keeps an eye on the incoming audience. The walk in features photos in frames along the wall. Lighting is soft and the timing way off for casual or even cursory readings. Conflicts of existence beckon as their placement serves no purpose than to create a block.

Rest of the review of Duck - Written by Stella Feehily - Downstairs Theatre, Seymour Centre - 23/06/06

In A Heartbeat; 28 Days Later

Managing to both offload an extra double pass that came into my possession and wolf down a foot long meatball sub in thirteen minutes there was an anxious wait. Suddenly, as if someone had decided to take a line, a queue formed and filing was under way. A short usher named Vincent was adamant on taking the passes and as I tried to reason with him I knocked the still closed door of cinema 8 to which a guy thought would be a good time to utter, "watch yer step mate." An extremely limited comical situation to him and his partner.

Still largely unoccupied, the seats were slowly filling up with people. Wanting a buffer of at least a seat I drifted between faked sleepiness and saving them for those who would not come as eyes and eyes climbed the steps and darted back and forth looking for an empty seat in the mid section. For those who came in after the initial flood, they were coming in holding a card of UNDEAD. "Two for one offer" one of them said to another, fanning the card. No idea on what they meant. Screening crept as slow as a man whose legs had been blown off.

Rest of the review of In A Heartbeat; 28 Days Later

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