Part of why Coming & Going feels like a quiet revolution of a film is the manner that Andy presents vulnerability, loneliness, and tenderness on screen. 'Baby, you are gonna miss that plane' is what Julie Delpy said to Ethan Hawke as she danced in the climax of Before Sunset, creating one of cinemas finest romantic moments. Andy pulls from the echo of that scene, creating the pivotal moment within Coming & Going with a scene that has Harry taking a guitar off the wall and playing a song for Julian, gifting his momentary boyfriend lyrics and a tune that will exist only in that moment and only for him. Moments. They're what memories are made out of. They're anchor points in time which we stare endlessly at as we walk backwards into the future, its impact having forever changed how we form new memories in our present.

Part of why Coming & Going feels like a quiet revolution of a film is the manner that Andy presents vulnerability, loneliness, and tenderness on screen. 'Baby, you are gonna miss that plane' is what Julie Delpy said to Ethan Hawke as she danced in the climax of Before Sunset, creating one of cinemas finest romantic moments. Andy pulls from the echo of that scene, creating the pivotal moment within Coming & Going with a scene that has Harry taking a guitar off the wall and playing a song for Julian, gifting his momentary boyfriend lyrics and a tune that will exist only in that moment and only for him. Moments. They're what memories are made out of. They're anchor points in time which we stare endlessly at as we walk backwards into the future, its impact having forever changed how we form new memories in our present.

This is a beautiful conversation, one that's fuelled with tenderness, love for the craft, and love for love. I'm grateful for Andy's time with this discussion, and I look forward to seeing his creative positivity flourish throughout his filmmaking career.

Coming & Going screens in the 'I Know Who You Did Last Summer' shorts package on 29 May 2025 at the Inside Out Festival in Canada. A link is in the show notes for those eager to attend. Keep an eye on Andy's Instagram and his production company, Dandy Films, Instagram page, for future screening details.

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Chad Freidrichs is a documentarian who has crafted a filmography built with a series of fringe stories that unveil fascinating narratives that exist just outside the periphery of normalcy. His first feature doc, Jandek on Corwood, sees a reclusive folk and blues musician gain a following, all the while he never truly engages with his followers fascination with his work. In 2011, Chad crafted the ethnographic documentary The Pruitt-Igoe Myth, which looks at the urban racism that existed in social housing in St Louis. Then, in 2017, with The Experimental City, Chad explores the rise and fall of societal ideas as witnessed with The Minnesota Experimental City, a grand vision that was never truly realised.

Each of these stories have paved the way for his latest film, The Cinema Within, an exploration into the way editing works. Chad explores the language of cinema with Walter Murch, whose book In the Blink of an Eye equally explores the role blinking plays in editing, and also scholar David Bordwell who explores the impact of an edit on our psyche to understand the way it transforms our understanding of cinema. Murch and Bordwell play scene setters for the deeper narrative in The Cinema Within, which sees researcher Sermin Ildirar head to rural Turkey to find a group of people who have never seen a film before, creating the foundation to her research into the role of editing, perspective, and more, on our minds.

The Cinema Within is a fascinating look into the impact of editing, and the notion of taking the language of cinema for granted. Like every language, it's one that needs to be learned and built on over time, and Chad's work invites that perspective of cinema. His films are invitations to see the world from a different perspective, and it's that notion that we explore in the following interview, which sees Chad talk about the notion of ideas, while I bring up my personal connection to Jandek on Corwood, a film that I saw back in 2004 at Perth's Revelation Film Festival, and that has stuck in my mind.

The Cinema Within is now available to view on DVD, Amazon, Apple TV & Kanopy in America.

Follow us on Instagram, Facebook, and Bluesky @thecurbau. We are a completely independent and ad free website that lives on the support of listeners and readers just like you. Visit Patreon.com/thecurbau, where you can support our work from as little as $1 a month. If you are unable to financially support us, then please consider sharing this interview with your podcast loving friends.

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Matthew Rankin is a Canadian filmmaker who hails from Winnipeg, Manitoba. His work, which includes the acclaimed award-winning 2019 feature The Twentieth Century, has often been called 'experimental' or a slice of 'absurdist comedy'. That's partially true, but I'd go a step further and say that there's a touch of humanist storytelling to his work, one that's crafted from a globalist perspective. That mindset is accentuated with Rankin's latest film, the tender and superb Universal Language, a Canadian film where characters speak in Persian rather than English or French, where a guide shows a group of bored tourists the banal sites of Winnipeg, where turkey shop owners wear pink cowboy hats, and where two young kids, Negin (played by Rojinia Esmaeili) and Nazgol (played by Saba Vahedyousefi), find money frozen in ice and seek a way to retrieve it so they can buy their classmate a new pair of glasses.

This is our world knocked off its axis ever so slightly. It's a place which is familiar, yet distinctly different. It's a place where cemeteries sit in the desolate concrete islands that exist within a sea of swarming highways. It's a place that, for Matthew Rankin, is a version of home. The choice to present a Canadian story in Persian is not accidental, but instead it's one that's driven by Rankin's affection for the work of the Iranian masters and for their distinctly considered perspective of the world. That kindness that sits at the core of Universal Language is a reflection of the innocence and kindness within the world of filmmakers like Abbas Kiarostami, particularly in a noted work like 1987's Where Is the Friend's House?, which sees a young boy trying to return the book of his classmate who lives on the other side of the village.

The foundation of kindness is one of the notions that is explored in the following conversation with Matthew, recorded ahead of Universal Language's national release in Australia on 22 May 2025. Throughout the interview, Matthew also talks about his journey into appreciating and valuing Iranian cinema, an affection which lead him to learn Farsi. Matthew also talks about the way his parents factor into Universal Language as a mirrored presence, before closing on the emotionality of bringing a version of their story to life on screen.

Universal Language is a work of pure kindness and comedy. There's a sweetness to it that makes the film feel like an antidote to the times we are currently living through.

Follow us on Instagram, Facebook, and Bluesky @thecurbau. We are a completely independent and ad free website that lives on the support of listeners and readers just like you. Visit Patreon.com/thecurbau, where you can support our work from as little as $1 a month. If you are unable to financially support us, then please consider sharing this interview with your podcast loving friends.

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Isabella Tree is a noted conservationist and the author of the acclaimed book Wilding, which tells the story of Isabella and her husband as they undertook the immense and impressive journey to rewild their failing four-hundred-year-old estate in England, bringing beavers and cranes back to the country for the first time in years.

Wilding, alongside the work of fellow conservationist Derek Gow, author of such books as Birds, Beasts, and Bedlam and Bringing Back the Beaver, have become foundational texts for me, having guided my perspective as a wannabe conservationist, albeit with a minimalist perspective as someone trapped in the midst of suburbia and rental life.

Wilding is a lovely film, green and grand with its ideas and vision. I was lucky to be able to speak with Isabella ahead of the films run in Australian cinemas from 22 May. The following interview kicks off with a nod to our respective stacked bookshelves which stood behind us in our Zoom windows to our lives and the importance of not just rewilding our environment, but also rewilding our minds too. Isabella then talks about reflecting on the years since her rewilding project kicked off, and how she has engaged with global rewilding, including nods to local conservationists and ecologists.

Wilding is out in Australian cinemas for a limited run from 22 May 2025. Check your local cinema for screening details. To find out more about Isabella's work, visit IsabellaTree.com.

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Co-writer and actor Archie Lush, director Alex Power, and producer Mark Zanosov take us to the streets of Fremantle, Western Australia, where their short film Blunt pushes us into the simmering heat of the kitchen. Under the spatter of duck fat and the glint of sharp knives is the mounting pressure of being a top tier chef, a notion that's amplified by Archie Lush's emerging culinary creative need to try and save his fathers struggling restaurant. Shot with a vivid realisation from one of Australia's finest emerging talents, cinematographer James Dudfield, and edited with precision by Hamish Paterson, Blunt is a rapid fire short that immerses you in the world of fine dining in a way that'll scratch that itch between seasons of The Bear.

In the following interview, Archie, Alex, and Mark talk about shooting in Freo, the importance of having stylistic and stunning food - as created by key food stylist Iara Arruda, and where they each see their creatives journeys going over the coming years. They also talk about the dedication and visual talent that exists within James Dudfield.

Blunt is heading out on the festival circuit, so keep an eye out for it.

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Genevieve Bailey is a documentarian who has drawn attention to the impact of societal struggles with mental illness through her empathetic and nurturing body of work. With feature films like I Am Eleven and Happy Sad Man, Gen embraces a supportive mindset, using the power of cinema to bring real stories to audiences. It's that sense of support that is keenly felt in her latest documentary, Always Listening, a short film about the history of Lifeline Australia. Gen takes us to the end of the telephone where we meet the many counsellors and support people who volunteer their time, emotions, and empathetic listening skills to guide people through mental health crisis events, suicidal ideation, and other critical mental struggles.

Like Gen's previous film Happy Sad Man, Always Listening is a beautiful and moving experience, opening audiences up to the power of understanding emotion and empathy, while also guiding people who live with their own mental health struggles to understand that there is help available and that people are there to support you through your most difficult moments. It's these two mindsets - the support and the supported - that has changed how I navigate my interviews and film coverage, leading me to ask questions that are focused around the emotion of a film, rather than the creative process of 'how it was made'.

That mindset shift comes from getting to see who the people are on the other end of the line: everyday folks who have sometimes been through their own mental health crisis, or live with their own struggles, or simply know what it's like to be in a place of need and are able to support those who need it most. These are gentle, genuine folks who are caring, engaged, and understand the complexity of the weight of the mental health crisis Australia, and by extension, the world faces.

Again, that's a notion that underpins how Genevieve Bailey embraces her work as a documentarian, telling stories that matter about people that care. I'm grateful to have been able to talk with Gen about Always Listening, but to also be able to share with you her stories, including the impact her films have had on audiences around the world.

Always Listening is screening on SBS On Demand right now. It's only thirty minutes long, but will leave a mark. If you or someone you love is going through a mental health crisis, Lifeline Australia is available 24/7 on 13 11 14. For more information, visit Lifeline.org.au.

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Nadine Whitney had the wonderful opportunity to speak with Karan Kandhari and Radhika Apte about Sister Midnight and how as original and ‘weird’ as it is, it’s also representative of people who are rarely seen as (essential) inhabitants of Mumbai. Both Karan and Radhika are an absolute joy to listen to.

Kandhari’s film is a marvel of inventiveness. The work itself breaks the rules of what is considered genre cinema by never settling on one. Sister Midnight is much like the artist who performed the song after which it is named. Igwald Popstar – known to people who haven’t chosen a ridiculous nickname for him as Iggy Pop or James Newell Osterberg Jr., – a man for whom conformity is as anathema as wearing a shirt. It’s punk, it’s unpredictable, and it has no time to explain itself to people who aren’t feeling its strange and wonderful rhythms.

Uma and Gopal barely speak to each other but when Uma does open her mouth the crude (but funny) invectives pour out. Her spikiness doesn’t bother her neighbour Sheetal (Chhaya Kadam) greatly who takes her under her own resigned wing. However, even when Uma tries (and fails) to be wifely Gopal isn’t particularly receptive preferring instead to drink alone than to accommodate Uma. When they do try to be a young couple, they end up taking a pointless thirteen-hour excursion to a beach, only to have to turn around and go home again. Life seems to demand that when they are with each other it is in extremely close quarters which makes Uma more aggressive and Gopal more avoidant. The green wedding bangles she wears (and shakes in anger) become shackles she can’t wait to have cut off.

Uma begins to make her own way through the city encountering other people whose lives are on the fringes. A trans sex worker who feels a kind of kinship with Uma’s oddness. An elevator attendant in a building she begins working at as a cleaner (“Can you clean?” Uma is asked. “I’m a domestic goddess.” She replies), and then there are the goats who seem to follow her wherever she goes. Something is rising in her – something feral and undeniable – neither welcomed nor wholly unwelcomed.

Trying to describe what goes on in Sister Midnight is much like humming a blisteringly brilliant song and hoping your paltry version matches up. Karan Kandhari’s marvellous vision simply needs to be seen and heard (the soundtrack is incredible) for the fantastic jolts to pull you into its idiosyncratic and singular orbit.

Sister Midnight is vivid and infectious. Radhika Apte is towering as Uma who inability to just “be a person” makes her an outlaw setting her own rules. Expect the unexpected in Sister Midnight and trust wherever it takes you is going to be rebellious and irresistible.

Follow us on Instagram, Facebook, and Bluesky @thecurbau. We are a completely independent and ad free website that lives on the support of listeners and readers just like you. Visit Patreon.com/thecurbau, where you can support our work from as little as $1 a month. If you are unable to financially support us, then please consider sharing this interview with your podcast loving friends.

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Lorcan Finnegan's wild and weird trip-fest flick The Surfer is one that's had local audiences salivating at the prospect of its arrival. That anticipation went into hyperdrive when Oscar winning actor and walking cult-factory Nicolas Cage was announced as the leading man, a bloke returning home to the South West to buy his family home, reconnect with family, and surf a little. His idea of a Christmas sojourn is scarpered when 'the locals', headed up by Julian McMahon at his career best, thwart his chance of escaping the heat and securing the home he has his eyes on.

The Surfer is, admittedly, a divisive flick, with reactions ranging from comparisons to Wake in Fright, to our own critic Cody Allen voicing displeasure with it. I personally found the film akin to that of a dehydrated fever dream, as if you're continually out of reach of hydrolytes and salvation, so instead you have to resort to drinking dog shit filled water and maybe chowing down on local rodents to get by. It's sweaty, filthy, and at times, oddly representative of what it feels like to visit Margaret River and Yallingup after downing too many bevvies at Beerfarm. And yeah, those comparisons to Ted Kotcheff's flick feel apt given its presentation of masculinity, but to me it's more like a West Aussie version of the seventies thriller The Swimmer.

There's something really sweaty about The Surfer, a mystery embedded in a world of mean and mad folks who each have a sly streak of cruelty, wrapped up in that familiar Aussie friendliness. I was never sure where Lorcan Finnegan and writer Thomas Martin was taking me, but I was bloody happy to be dragged along in the process. There's a risk taking mindset to The Surfer, one that pushes at the boundaries of what Aussie films or stories can be. If this is where Aussie stories told from non-Aussie perspectives might be going, then strap me in, I'm on for the whole ride.

As Western Australia ramps up to becoming a full throttled filmmaking state with the 2026 arrival of our first 'film studios', it then became a good time to touch base with surrogate sandgroper Robert Connolly, this time wearing a producer hat, to talk about his role in bringing The Surfer to WA shores, what his experience of having made films like Paper Planes and Blueback brings to a major production like this one, and additionally, what his producing presence means for filmmakers, actors, and Aussie creatives.

It's always a delight to be able to talk to Robert, just as it's been a delight to be able to see the global reaction to a film like The Surfer. If you're in Australia, you'll have your chance to catch the film on the big screen - just how it's meant to be seen - from 15 May, before it heads onto Stan. later in the year.

Follow us on Instagram, Facebook, and Bluesky @thecurbau. We are a completely independent and ad free website that lives on the support of listeners and readers just like you. Visit Patreon.com/thecurbau, where you can support our work from as little as $1 a month. If you are unable to financially support us, then please consider sharing this interview with your podcast loving friends.

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