Friday, April 28, 2006

Kokoda Takes Aussie Box Office by Storm

Kokoda captures Aussie box office taking over $1 million in opening week

Director Alister Grierson’s inspiring new Australian film Kokoda has stormed the Aussie box office taking $1,014,455 million in its opening week.

The films’ opening week figures are well above recent releases including Little Fish, The Proposition, Look Both Ways and Somersault. Opening week figures are comparable to the international smash hit Wolf Creek, which went on to take over $6 million dollars.

The producers of Kokoda, Catriona Hughes and Leesa Kahn, who performed the astonishing task of financing, shooting and distributing the film in less than 1 year, said 'we are thrilled with the public’s response to a film that is clearly resonating with Australian audiences around the country.'

Inspired by true events, Kokoda tells the story of a platoon of Australian soldiers from the 39th battalion who became isolated in the jungle behind enemy lines on the Kokoda track.

The film features a fantastic ensemble cast including Jack Finsterer, Travis McMahon, Simon Stone, Luke Ford, Tom Budge, Steve Le Marquand, Angus Sampson, Shane Bourne and William McInnes.

Kokoda is screening in cinemas nationally. Distributed by Palace Films.

Look Both Ways to Screen at Cannes Film Festival

FFC congratulates Look Both Ways on Cannes screening

The highly acclaimed film Look Both Ways has been invited to a special screening as part of 45th International Critics Week at the 2006 Cannes Film Festival.

Brian Rosen, CEO of the Film Finance Corporation of Australia today congratulated the team who created this film, which has already received awards and accolades from film festivals and audiences around the world.

'Look Both Ways is an Australian film we can all be proud of, producer Bridget Ikin and director/writer Sarah Watt have created a film that resonates with audiences all around the world. This special screening as part of Critics' Week is the culmination of the recognition the film has already received from festivals, critics and audiences,' said Brian Rosen today.

Look Both Ways was supported by the FFC through marketplace investment, prior to the changes in the funding models in July 2004 other investors were the SAFC, Adelaide Film Festival, SBSi and Film Victoria.

Look Both Ways has been invited to screen as the FIPRESCI (International Federation of Film Critics) Revelation of the Year, a special screening for a film which has won a FIPRESCI award in recent times.

Other awards received by Look Both Ways are:

* Discovery Award: Toronto Film Festival, 2005
* FIPRESCI Award, Brisbane film Festival, 2005
* 4 AFI Awards, 2005: Best Film, Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Supporting Actor (Tony Hayes)
* 5 Film Critics Circle awards, 2005: Best Film, Director, Actor (William McInnes), Screenplay, Editing
* 3 IF Awards, 2005: Best Director, Screenplay, Editing
* Most Popular Film: Adelaide Film Festival, 2005; Brisbane Film Festival, 2005; Australian Film Festival, London 2006
* Best Screenplay: Mar del Plata Film Festival, 2006Best Actress (Justine Clarke): Mar del Plata Film Festival, 2006
* Critics Award: Rotterdam Film Festival 2006
* Critics Award: NatFilm Festival (Denmark) 2006

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Article - Sydney Morning Herald - April 15, 2006

Absurd encounters began with stones in concert

THE DIARY; William McInnes
Sydney Morning Herald
04-15-2006

A WEEK of bumping into people. Bumping into acquaintances or people you haven't seen for a while is sometimes an occurrence of great joy and surprise. It's supposed to happen only occasionally, that is why it's a surprise, but when you have a string of faces known and names suddenly remembered it means something is happening on the merry-go- round of life.

The first person I bump into is a man I once hit in the testicles. With a cricket ball. I didn't mean to. I was returning the ball and he was supposed to catch it only he looked the other way. We bump into each other in the changing room at the gym. I've just finished showering after a tragic middle-aged attempt at exercise. He stands before me. "Hello you! How are you!?" I look at him through soapy eyes. I give a blokey nod. I have forgotten his name. "How are you ... mate?" He laughs. "Gee, Bill, my nuts took a week to get better after the hammering you gave me." Heads turn and people stare. He smiles and plods off to the showers. I head off into a week of bumping into people.

During a telephone interview I attempt to do over a speaker phone while I try to insert a battery into a smoke alarm, I suddenly remember that I have to be somewhere else. The journalist is already perplexed as I sputter that I have to be elsewhere. She has put up with crazed intermittent beeping from the smoke alarm and my oaths in answer to it. I realise I have to go and read sections of Winnie the Pooh in front of the Victoria State Library. I say goodbye and ring up a taxi on my mobile. I shriek and swear and step on the dog and then realise I still have the speaker phone on. The taxi toots and I run outside.

I get in and try to politely yell to the driver. He stares at me. He keeps on staring at me even when we are driving. If I am to be polite I will say he has an intense gaze. In other words in the right light he could look pretty scary. We make a fine couple. A big bad-tempered man and the intense driver. As we go through a red light he says, "I know you, don't I?" He says it in such a way that brooks no argument. Just when I think of leaping from the car he laughs. I hear the laugh and realise I know him. He has grown a beard. He is a man I worked with on a working bee at a kindy years ago. My bad temper disappears and I enjoy a bit of a catch-up. His children are good and two are at high school. I remember how he liked to sing to his daughter as he carried her home on his shoulders. Now she is at high school. We sit quietly for a bit. And yes, he says he still drives the cab on Wednesdays as a second job. We wave goodbye. "Until next time Billy!" and he drives off.

A few days later I leave the Melbourne Arts Centre, where I have just finished a performance of Steve Rogers's Ray's Tempest for the Melbourne Theatre Company. During the night I have already bumped into Chris Gabardi and Bud Tingwell and have enjoyed catching up. Also a man who has given up acting to become a psychologist. I assure him he will do well with a long list of clients when he graduates.

I walk down to the railway station and as I go a young man leans out of an old Commodore, which seems at odds among the taxis and limos on the streets. "Hey, William McInnes," he yells at the top of his voice. I look to see him. He's not a young man at all. He's only a boy really. He used to go to school with my son. I go to wave hello and say something. But he beats me to it. "You are such a shithouse actor!" he laughs and leans back into the car. I can't complain. He's just having a go.

I am reminded of being in Los Angeles and seeing Bob Carr walk across Rodeo Drive. Why Bob Carr was there is his business. I suppose former premiers have to go somewhere so Rodeo Drive is as good a place as any. I was being driven when I see him wander across the street. He is a little touch of home, or at least near home. I lean out the window and shriek at the moleskin-clad R.M. Williams-footed former premier in the time-honoured greeting: "Hey Bob! Thanks for that tunnel." He jumps a little bit and then attempts to regain a little bit of former premier-type behaviour and stares at me in what is, I guess, his best withering look.

Oh well, he can take it. I guess we all have to because you never know who you will bump into.

Despite the shape of his nose, William McInnes is a successful film and stage actor.

Article - Sydney Morning Herald - April 22, 2006

All made up for a mates' war

By William McInnes
April 22, 2006

A role that pays tribute to the struggles of an earlier generation is worth a star's day in the mud, but they can stick that army haircut.

I jumped in a taxi that was taking me to the airport and Roger Hodgeman, the director of Stepfather of the Bride, an ABC telemovie in which I am involved in Sydney, trotted up to the taxi window and pointed at me with his finger. "Don't let them cut your hair, William," he said.
I gave him a thumbs-up and the taxi set off from Leichhardt to the airport. I was interrupting the production of Stepfather for a day's shooting on Alister Grierson's feature debut Kokoda.

My hair wasn't that long but then again it wasn't your nice and tight Peter Debnam number. It definitely wasn't your frontline Kokoda cut, but I'd been told. They weren't to cut my hair.

The film was being shot on Mount Tamborine in the Gold Coast hinterland, and when you climb up the high slopes you get a quite stark view of the epic abruptness of the Surfers Paradise skyline.

The last time I had been to Mount Tamborine was on a science excursion in high school, when a bad-tempered teacher had tried to explain what the layers of rings on an old tree trunk meant.

[I remember no one really listened to him as the bellbirds called and his googly eyes searched for anyone to answer his question about why "the history of this place is important". I can't remember anyone answering his question. I don't even think he offered his own answer. I can remember his awful blue striped jumper and his voice echoing in the rain forest: "Well? Well? What's important?"]

Mount Tamborine, now, seemed to be the home of some very pleasant houses. The higher we drove, the nicer they seemed to be, and they sprouted everywhere, like mushies after thunderstorms. It was raining as we drove, and the clouds scudded low over the green hills. We turned down a muddy road and suddenly below us we saw the set.

Sometimes the really great thing about arriving on a set is that it can take you to a different place and a different time. It's an impression, of course, because if you look enough you can see through the work.

But it's all about the moment, and the elements combining: the rain, the greyness of the mist, the greenness of the rainforest, the abundance of mud and the work of the set designers had created a version of Papua New Guinea circa 1942 that was breathtaking.

I got out of the car and gingerly stepped through the mud past returning soldiers made gaunt with make-up, and Papuan stretcher-bearers cradling injured diggers. I carefully managed not to spill any of my large long black, courtesy of a quick stop at a cafe along the way, and headed to a large green tent.

The second assistant director and I exchanged greetings and had a chat about a telemovie we had made in Darwin that was very funny but sadly never saw the light of day.

"Now," said the friendly second, "you have to go off to make-up. They want to see you about ... your hair."

Me, my coffee, my paper and my not-to-be-cut hair traipsed into the caravan.

When you step into a make-up van on set you are supposed to say "Stepping". This is to inform the make-up people inside to stop momentarily so they don't muck up the face they are creating when the caravan lurches with the weight of the incoming actor.

I have the second announce "Stepping" for me, so I can enter the make-up van with a general "Hello there!" to its inhabitants.

I see Jack Finsterer being readied for battle. He plays the leading role in an ensemble piece and by all accounts has done it well. He looks handsome in a blue-eyed, short-haired way and I tease him a little. We are friends and he is a patient and kind man. In other words, he puts up with me.

"Jack," I say, "you look very good. Play your cards right, because you know if you look good on screen when you shoot a rifle and grimace in a manly way with your white teeth, then Hollywood is yours!"

He laughs. "Have you read this script, William?"

"Don't need to, old mate ... I know who won the war!"

It has been a pretty rugged shoot and the film is quite ambitious in its scale but the cast and crew have worked together to make the most of a modest budget. These are things that are good to hear about Australian films. The commitment and energy of cast and crew. The enthusiasm of the director and producers.

To make films matter to an Australian audience and to Australia - these are the ingredients that are essential to success. Or hopeful success.

I had met Alister Griersen in a Port Melbourne office and he certainly seemed to be enthusiastic and keen to crack the whip. He asked why I was interested in doing a small role like the colonel in the film. I told him that not many films were made about modern Australian history and certainly not about Kokoda.

And the colonel is based in part on Ralph Honner, a man I remember my father speaking about with admiration and pride. "A real cracker that bloke. Would have done well in any man's army. A good man, all right."

My father had a lot of time for the men who fought on the Kokoda Trail. They were a part, he said, of an event that helped make modern Australia.

The Kokoda Trail was fought by Australians not in the interests of rich and powerful friends, or motherlands and foreign monarchs. It was fought by Australians fresh from the streets of our country for the direct defence of our country.

And during the course of this battle something special happened, according to my old man. Something that resonated on a generational level.

White, closeted Australian men came to appreciate themselves as the beneficiaries of the courage and comradeship of the Papuans - black men who dressed and lived differently from those white Australians, but men with just as much courage and humanity as our own slouch-hatted diggers.

My father always regarded this as a step towards a greater tolerance and a greater understanding of the common bond of humanity between black and white. "At least it made people think."

Perhaps it will have some modern resonance in our relationship with the Papuan people - that our support shouldn't just be politically convenient, but should be put in a perspective of a shared struggle and comradeship.

I suppose in a minor way, doing this part is like tipping my hat to my father's generation. It's only a day's work and I decide to donate my fee to Legacy. So at least someone will get something out of it.

So I sit in the make-up van. And sit and sit and sit. My hair that cannot be cut seems to be a bit of a problem.

A hairpiece was a possible solution. It is supposed to thin the hair. But I looked like a rather sad customer of a Greg Matthews-type salon. Yeah, yeah. No, no.

Finally, after hours, my hair is oiled and scraped up and tied in a tight little bun. Then it is sprayed to a finish hard enough to crack open a macadamia nut. I pull on an infantry uniform and wander around with a shower cap to keep the rain off my nut-cracker bun. I sit and have lunch amid the cast and crew.

And then I am introduced to an old man. He lives below the mountain on the flats of Surfers. He is with his wife. He would have been tall when he was younger. Like some of the made-up soldiers. He is a veteran of the trail.

I sit and chat with him. As I do, I feel embarrassed about play-acting a war: making entertainment from this man's - and his generation's - own misery and struggle for life and death.

There is a lot of guff spoken about mateship and its sacredness to the idea of being Australian. Mateship is used to sell almost anything today. This man I spoke to with my hair in a shower cap actually lived it.

Time passes. The Australia for which the old man fought has changed - changed into a big, rich, multi-layered society. It's changed into the crawling traffic of Sydney, Surfers Paradise, a mecca for overseas visitors, a relatively tolerant, multicultural place to live.


I'm told by an assistant director it's time to travel down to the set. I replace my shower cap with a metal helmet. I'm ready to address the troops. I slip and slide in the mud.

Why make the film? Why? Well, ultimately, that is a question for the filmmakers themselves. For me, it's because time is passing and films like this should be made. Hopefully it won't just be a shoot-'em up, good-bloke adventure. I can't see Alister Grierson doing that. The audience will make what they will, and critics will have their verdicts.

It won't be the final, or definitive, portrait of the Kokoda Trail. But it will be a story about a period of our history. As that goggle-eyed teacher of mine shouted to the rainforest: "History is important."

And at least I know one thing - I didn't let them cut my hair.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Article - Sydney Morning Herald - April 14, 2006

In economy class the screams are all silent, peanut or no peanut
By William McInnes
April 14, 2006

ON A plane flying across the Pacific you find out certain things. Only when you are locked in the battery hen confines of economy class can you truly appreciate the glorious ruthlessness of economic modelling.

What brain, for instance, came up with the most economically rewarding space between the seats? I would like to meet that person. I think this he or she would be descended from a long line of battery-chook farm owners or perhaps various proponents of crimes against humanity. I am certain this person would never fly economy long-haul.

This is where I find myself. Locked behind a man who decides that his seat should be reclined as far back as it can go and does it as soon as he has the all clear on the flight. I feel like Gilligan would have felt if the Skipper had taken the top hammock on Gilligan's Island.

The safety demonstration video hasn't even finished and the Skipper crashes back into my stomach and stays there for my journey across the Pacific. He likes to recline. In fact, he is the Great Recliner.

The demonstration video! Now there is a piece of work with a sense of humour. "Subtly all planes are different." Yes, they are. Especially the mock plane on the video. The demonstrating models are doing aerobic exercises in unimagined comfort and space. It looks like an old Jane Fonda exercise tape when you compare it with the space actually provided by the plane's seats and the economic modeller.

The brace position is a happy little idea, but the Great Recliner in front of me rules out any realistic attempt at the pose adopted by the happy model in the verdant space of the video plane. I am so close to the Great Recliner's head I can rest my chin on his scalp. Who needs in-flight entertainment when I can happily content myself with counting his hair follicles?

I force my eyes away from his forests and scan the cabin for empty seats. No joy. But I do see the choice of reading favoured by my fellow passengers. Big, thick bulky books by people with names like Wilbur and Clive and Dan and Eric. Books with stories about terrorism and nuclear bombs in suitcases and planes plunging into remote jungles and psychotic killers and conspiracies and a total disregard for human life. I look at a woman reading such a book by a man called Clive. She smiles at me. "Just a bit of light reading to pass the time." Holiday reading. The world is going mad. I smile back.

The in-flight entertainment is good. A small video screen rests in the back of every seat. Its bluish glow shines on various faces. A channel selection lets you see an animated version of our trip. A clunky little plane ekes its way across the ocean.

Somewhere along the way I remember the voice from the in-flight video and the bland tones informing us to remember to exercise our legs during the flight. I squeeze and heave from under the weight of the recliner in front and take a walk. I do this a fair while into the flight. The sights I see as I stagger through the seats are like some ghostly trip through the evolution of the human species. Lit by the eerie glow of the small television screens in the backs of the seats I see about 500 of my fellow human beings at their most vulnerable.

It's humbling to walk through rows and rows of open-mouthed spread-eagled people dead to the world. Some seem to manage better than others. Some, unbelievably, seem to be content. Some have peanuts around their neck, those travellers' cushions. I know these are called peanuts because of the elderly man with the foghorn voice sitting across the way from me. He bellows to his wife. "I have to have a peanut. Did you bring my peanut?"

I stare at him and he looks at me with his watery eyes. "You gotta have a peanut … yes sir, you gotta have a peanut." He waves a flaccid little bag at me and then blows into it. Sometimes he makes a noise like a whoopee cushion. When he is done he holds it out to me and then pops it behind his neck.

"There, my peanut … you gotta have a peanut." He contentedly sleeps with his mouth wide open. It suddenly appears to me as I look around the cabin that all the people asleep, peanuts or no, look like Edvard Munch has painted them. An aircraft full of The Scream.

Save for two elderly men. Two old Aussie football legends who are playing checkers. Their giant dislocated hands dance on the controls of the video screens and the grandpa glasses dangle on their noses. Their rumbling laughter wafts up the aisle as they counter each other's moves. Only instead of streaking down the members' wing at the MCG they're shoulder to shoulder in economy high above the waves.

We are now south of Honolulu. The picture on the screen on the back of the seat tells us so. Over the South Pacific. A name that conjures up a ream of romantic images.

It's only because The Great Recliner has lent back so far that I can see through the gap between the two seats. A computer screen. A laptop. A woman is writing. At first I thought it was the seat's video screen. But no. I stopped when I realised what it was.

"I have never written a letter like this before. But I must in answer to your note. When you said you loved me I was speechless … but heartbroken…" I looked away. The Great Recliner heaved. I yelped. The man with the peanut woke up and muttered something about hardware shops in Portland.

When I settled and all was Munch-like again on the plane, I snuck a look back between the seats again. The laptop had been folded away and we, all of us in that little clunky plane on the animated screen were flying high above the sea. I closed my eyes and thought of broken hearts and friendly footy legends and Edvard Munch and peanuts and … fell asleep.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Official Kokoda Website and Still Photo from Movie




















http://www.kokodathemovie.com.au/

This is a still shot of William taken from the website.

Friday, April 07, 2006

Article - Sydney Morning Herald - April 7, 2006

Click Here for Article

Look Both Ways wins big overseas

Award-winning Australian feature Look Both Ways has continued its successful run on the international festival circuit, winning major awards from film festivals in which it has screened.
Written and directed by Melbourne filmmaker Sarah Watt, and produced by Bridget Ikin of Hibiscus Films, Look Both Ways has won major awards at three international festivals this year, continuing a dream run for the low-budget feature, which was released in Australian cinemas last August by Dendy Films.

The film, which stars William McInnes and Justine Clarke, won a top honour at the NatFilm Festival in Denmark on Sunday night.

A popular festival on the international circuit, Natfilm awards the TV5Monde Critics' Prize, sponsored by the French-language television channel, to acknowledge the best film of the nine new directors selected by festival organisers. Look Both Ways also won two major awards at the Mar del Plata Film Festival in Argentina on March 19 - Best Screenplay and Best Actress for Clarke — and the Critics Award at the Rotterdam Film Festival in January.

According to the Danish critics, Watt’s first live-action feature is 'manages to entertain, at the same time as it captures the zeitgeist and the big and small worries of everyday life. In a playful way it deals with life and death, and tells the audience that it's not always best to look both ways - sometimes it's better to just dive in.'

'What I’m really thrilled about is the range of international awards that it has won,' says Look Both Ways producer, Bridget Ikin. 'It seems to strike a chord with people in so many countries, and that is fantastic for something that has a real Australian quality.'

The film opens across the US on April 14 and the UK in June, and was recently released in Australia on DVD.

Look Both Ways began its winning streak even before its release when it won Best Film Script in the 2004 Queensland Literary Awards.

It picked up the prestigious Discovery Award at the 2005 Toronto Film Festival.

Last year it also won four awards at the Australian Film Institute Awards, including Best Film for Ikin, Best Director and Best Screenplay for Watt and Best Supporting Actor for Anthony Hayes. Watt also won Best Director and Best Screenplay at the if Awards, while Denise Haratzis won Best Editing; the film won the FIPRESCI Prize at the Brisbane International Film Festival, and picked up five awards at the Australian Film Critics Circle awards, including Best Film, Director, Actor (for William McInnes), Screenplay and Editing. It was voted most popular film at the Adelaide and Brisbane Film Festivals, and at the Australian Film Festival in London, this year.

Look Both Ways: a winning streak

Discovery Award: Toronto Film Festival, 2005

FIPRESCI Award, Brisbane film Festival, 2005

4 AFI Awards, 2005:Best Film, Best Director, Best Screenplay, Best Supporting Actor (Tony Hayes)

5 Film Critics Circle awards, 2005:Best Film, Director, Actor (William McInnes), Screenplay, Editing

3 IF Awards, 2005: Best Director, Screenplay, Editing
Most Popular Film: Adelaide Film Festival, 2005Brisbane Film Festival, 2005Australian Film Festival, London 2006

Best Screenplay: Mar del Plata Film Festival, 2006Best Actress (Justine Clarke): Mar del Plata Film Festival, 2006

Critics Award: Rotterdam Film Festival 2006

Critics Award: NatFilm Festival (Denmark) 2006

[release from Dendy Films]

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Look Both Ways wins Award at Natfilm Danish Film Festival

Click here for link to article in the Melbourne Age

Sunday, April 02, 2006

Kokoda - Stars William McInnes

Set in Papua New Guinea in 1942, Kokoda is based on the true story of survival of a small band of untrained and inexperienced ‘chocolate soldiers’ who were set out to patrol a village on the Kokoda track.

After sustained bombardment and initial attacks from the Japanese, the men are cut off from their supply lines and all communications. Isolated in the jungle behind enemy lines, they must make their way back through the most unforgiving terrain on earth to get to safety and the main body of Australian troops. Allegiances form, strengths and weaknesses emerge, and leadership battles threaten to destroy the group, as the going gets tougher and tougher.

Kokoda is in Cinemas April 20th.