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Nine-year-old Sophie (Chloe Coleman) catches JJ (Dave Bautista), a hardened CIA operative, spying on her family during a routine surveillance operation. In exchange for not blowing his cover, JJ begrudgingly agrees to show the precocious girl how to become a spy. What at first seems like an easy task soon turns into a battle of wits as Sophie proves you don’t need much experience to outsmart a seasoned agent.

When I first saw the trailer for My Spy as a coming attraction while in the movie theatre a while back, I basically had the same thought that everybody had – “this looks awful”. It reminded me of an extremely bad late 90s or early 2000s comedy. Some part of me was holding out hope that it would be a welcomed surprise, but deep down inside, I still had a feeling it was going to suck. Sadly, it did suck. My Spy is a painfully cringe-worthy film with a list of problems.

The first on the list is without a doubt the script, written by Jon and Erich Hoeber. Right from the start, it feels like it doesn’t work. We watch a scene in which Dave Bautista’s JJ is in the middle of a sticky situation after a bunch of people start to suspect that he is a CIA agent. What does JJ, who is allegedly a top-of-the-line agent, do in order to defuse the situation? He starts cracking jokes while there are several guns pointed at his head. Instead of shooting him right on the spot, everybody in the room gives him a sort of confused glare, but there is only a fight scene after this happens. In real life, this would have gone the complete opposite way.

I understand that this is a goofy, over-the-top comedy and it isn’t going for a completely grounded story, but it was just a bit jarring and it was hard to get into. Easily the strongest aspect to the film is the dynamic between Dave Bautista and Chloe Coleman, who do their best despite the weak writing. Together, they are sweet and oftentimes fun to watch. It’s a standout duo in an otherwise lackluster movie.

One of the biggest missteps this film takes is that it tries to aim towards teenagers and young children far too much. This is a movie that tries to take itself seriously one minute, and then the next, we watch the macho-man Dave Bautista himself do the Nae Nae dance along to Cardi B’s “Bodak Yellow”. Not only did this happen once, but twice. Each time made me shake my head in embarrassment.

Surprisingly enough though, the action sequences here aren’t too bad. There is one moment in the final fifteen minutes or so that was truly entertaining to watch and actually managed to include a couple of good jokes as well. Still, though, this is a remarkably tough film to sit through. Even though it’s only ninety-nine minutes long, it feels much longer. It will probably entertain young audiences occasionally, but I still don’t think that this spy comedy has enough up its sleeve to warrant a watch.

Dave Bautista tries his best in My Spy – a poorly written action-comedy that simply doesn’t have enough good humor up its sleeve or a good story to go along with it.

By Rowan Malyon.

A slow-burning but intense film, Tape is sparse in colour, staging, and in its message. Based on true events, this film does not shy away from the point it is trying to make about the entrenched sexual harassment in the entertainment industry.

Deborah Kampmeier’s film follows the mysterious and vengeful Rosa (Annarosa Mudd) as she records producer Lux (Tarek Bishara) in the process of assaulting Pearl (Isabelle Furhman), a struggling young actor, after she becomes the latest in a long line of “protégés”. 

Though somewhat expository at times, the film does not have any reservations about discussing this unfortunately ubiquitous but unspoken problem. A non-traditional horror, Kampmeier captures the fears that women face every day. The audience should understand what kind of story this is going to be from around the 30 minute mark but the suspense built, the how, the where, and the why, keeps us hooked. 

The film could not be more topical. In fact, Kampmeier references a few very recent, infamous rape cases in the US in the climatic final scene. Polanski, Cosby, these were high-profile cases, but Tape assures us that these things happen every day, in innocuous places, to people who never get their stories told.

Through bleak streets and empty apartments, Kampmeier captures the loneliness one can feel despite living in a bustling city, the loneliness that seeps from Pearl. Except she’s not alone. 

Though at some points, the use of Rosa’s secret cameras can separate the audience from the action and is oftentimes clumsy, the film could not work without them. They are also a perfect conduit for the film’s overall message. 

When Pearl looks into the camera hidden in a clock in Lux’s dark and foreboding “set”, she looks Rosa right in the eye, making her question the morality of her actions. But she also looks at us, asking us why we didn’t get involved. Why didn’t we stop this from happening? Why do we not speak up more when women need our help? The cameras make us as culpable as Rosa. 

What’s more, when Lux tries to convince Pearl that sex scenes are not only something she will have to deal with as a real actress, but a necessity, something she will not succeed without doing, the camera is knocked out of line. We don’t see him coerce her, just as society turns its face away from abuse. His distorted voice does not belong to him anymore, it could be anyone’s, any of the countless abusers inside the industry and out of it. 

Stark references to Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus remind us that this is not just a modern issue. It is something that has haunted society since it began, and the series of other videos that Rosa collects on her tablet illustrate this endless cycle. 

Tape is gritty and realistic, perfectly capturing the anxieties of living as a woman, from the subtle microaggressions of the media and coercions from men in power, to simple things not often discussed, like Rosa’s obvious unease when she is escorted by a man twice her size, a man who obviously does not understand or even notice her discomfort. This film highlights how often women are forced to be alright with situations that make them uncomfortable, and how they are made to feel guilty when they react.

What is refreshing about Tape is that despite its seemingly unsatisfying ending, there is a different sort of triumph here. When Rosa holds Lux at gunpoint, it is a far-fetched and rather jarring climax to such a naturalistic film. However, the vacuum it creates allows for a very powerful scene in which the all-female witnesses discuss their own experiences of sexual assault. Unlike the tragic Lavinia, so often referenced by Rosa, the women in this film actually gain voice. 

Despite its jumps between realism and fantasy, Tape is a good film about an important issue. It doesn’t lecture or push too hard, it simply holds a mirror up to its audience and to life, while Peal’s fated words ‘whatever it takes’ echo forebodingly in our ears.

If you have ever been to a student showcase or short film festival, you’ll know there is no shortage of fifteen-minute films of people living in seclusion on an island. Such films almost always revel in their simplicity and can hide any shortcomings on story or character with long location shots. At least then it can be assessed on a technical level, if nothing else.

It seems that examples of this sub-genre of sorts can be found outside undergraduate showreels or exhibits at the Encounters Film Festival. One of the busiest film industries around are also making them. With his second outing as writer and director (After Dinner with Stranger from 2018), Hong Konger Linhan Zhang explores a slice of small island life with The Last Ferry from Grass Island.

The name comes from one of the many islands that make up Hong Kong and the boat which brings a young woman, Xiaoma (Yang Wang) from Grass Island to an unnamed, remote one. Her reason for going there? She is there to help the only visible resident of this new location, Ah Hoi (Tai-Bo), care for his elderly Ma (Yee-Yee Yeung), who is unable to do anything for herself other than watch TV.

One thing that is undeniable about this film from the outset is how well it is photographed. Cinematographer Girogos Valsamis’ every shot is beautiful, but almost to a fault. Even though the film is short, it could have been even shorter. There are plenty of establishing shots, panoramas and close-ups which go on a bit too long. While they are all pristinely photographed, that they linger for so long is , most evident in the myriad of scenes of Ah Hoi caring for Ma.

Last Ferry starts off so basic, but it’s not long before something is amiss. The first time Xiaoma is seen entering Ah Hoi and Ma’s house, she produces, from a laundry basket, a silenced pistol. When Ah Hoi sees her pointing the gun at him, his reaction is just a sigh. He convinces her to put it away with the promise of dinner and she sits down to eat instead.

With everything else sticking to formula, there are questions that still hang in the air: Why did Xiaoma turn a gun on Ah Hoi? Why did he not seem bothered seeing her with the weapon? It’s this element which holds Last Ferry together and it is handled in a very sophisticated way.

Linan keeps the subtext the subtext, never spelling it out for the audience, and the film is better for that. This also prevents any further interruption to the film. Early on it feels non sequential, but at the end Linhan is able to bring everything together, without interrupting the rhythm and pacing of the story, and make it all feel like a complete film.

There are problems with The Last Ferry from Grass Island, but in the end it works. It has a simple story but it does have some ambition, it’s not just out to impress with pretty photography but leave the audience with more than just an aesthetic appreciation. It’s in its credit that it wants to more and, crucially, succeeds in doing more, which merits a viewing.