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Taiwanese director Su Chao-pin is more comfortable with audiences rolling in the aisles with glee than fright, so his ghost-horror flick Silk (now showing) seems a curious career move – especially for a man without the slightest ghostly conviction. Su’s latest film chronicles a series of mysterious incidents after the ghost of a 13-year-old boy is captured by a device – a Menger Sponge – invented by a group of Japanese scientists. The idea for the story was inspired by Su’s ghost-fearing mother. “My mom is very traditional and believes very much in ghosts,” he says. “She’s the kind of woman who would tell me not to piss in the street – traditional Chinese believe that pissing in the streets will make ghosts angry because the streets are the ghosts’ domain. I don’t actually believe in ghosts but I got curious about what would happen if we could catch a ghost. And that set me thinking and writing my story.” Although it’s a local story, Su wanted an international cast so the film would have a wide appeal. He chose Yosuke Eguchi from Japan, Chang Chen and Barbie Hsu from Taiwan, and Karena Lam from Hong Kong. He believed the cast would give the film a better chance of global success – though he’s still hoping for a hit at home: “I’ve made a very Taiwan movie and I hope it will survive in Taiwan.” Su had considerable box office success with his directorial debut, Better Than Sex in 2002 – a teen comedy about a boy and his oversize penis. But Su is known more for his script work than directing. Double Vision, 2002’s highest grossing Chinese film, and the multiple award-winning 3 Extremes II (2002), had international releases, but he also penned last year’s Twenty Something Taipei after The Cabbie and A Chance to Die, in 2000. Why did he particularly want to also direct the script of his latest horror opus? “Each movie is the work of the director, not the scriptwriter. I just wanted to film my own story and I thought it would be more consistent if I directed,” Su explains, though he does prefer scriptwriting. Silk took two years to complete: Su says he could have written three stories in that time. And taking the dual role took its toll – “I feel like I am much older after completing this movie.” And so in his next attempt, he is returning to light relief. The Unspeakable Curse of the Ox Family is a comedy about a hex causing mayhem in the unsuspecting Ox clan. “I just want to make a crazy amusing film,” he says. Artists, if they are real artists, he believes, don’t like repeating themselves – and anyway, he may well have had enough of spooks (which he doesn’t believe in, really). “I think it’s time for me to change,” he says. “I don’t want to be woken up everyday. I want to wake myself up.”
Jacky Wu went hurtling through the air for seven metres before landing on the floor with a thump. It was a kick from his outraged father after discovering Wu skipping wushu class that sent the eight-year-old flying. Coming from a long line of martial artists, it was no surprise that Wu found himself enrolled in Beijing’s famous Wushu Academy when he was six. After two years, “easy” lessons bored him, and he began meandering along the local riverbank, dousing himself with water to fool his mum it was sweat from class. Mum was taken in, but not Dad. Wu laughs about it now, but that kick, he says, set him firmly back on course. From then, he concentrated on and excelled in his studies, attracting the attention of Wu Bin, an Academy mentor who had worked with Jet Li. Then, Xiang Xinyang, the man who discovered Li, visited the Academy, and found in Wu a new protégé. Wu became national Wushu champion four times between 1986 and 1991 before appearing in his first feature, Yuen Po Wing’s Tai Chi 2. In China, the actor’s face is instantly recognisable – Wu has notched up over 15 TV series in 10 years and followed Ping’s movie with Tsui Hark’s The Legend of Zu before working with Donnie Yen (Blade, Dragon Tiger Gate). Eagle-eyed moviegoers might recognise Wu from 2005’s Saat Po Long (or, as English-speakers knew it, SPL); his cold-hearted villain, played alongside Yen, drew rapturous praise. But so far, international fame has eluded him. That could all change – his new picture, Fatal Contact, sees Wu in the lead. He abandons the stereotypical tough-guy martial artist for a more sensitive soul, pushed into underground boxing by a calculating girlfriend. He says he drew on past experience for the part, but shies away from revealing the name of his own heartbreaker. He does say that he relishes combining his considerable fighting skills – 26 minutes worth in Fatal Contact – with the demands of acting. Having learnt to ride, dance and dive, he thinks there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to get him into character; he even claims he can spot a thief after trailing one for a part (“It’s in the eyes,” he says, laughing). For all the adrenaline and tension of sparring for a living, and a day of interviews promoting it, Wu remains relaxed, casual and funny – he’d be even funnier if he could speak English, he jokes with his translator. Fatal Contact’s director, Dennis Law, says it was Wu’s personality that first attracted him. “These days not many (action stars) have the charisma,” says Law, also mentioning that Wu’s innocent face – he looks younger than his 32 years – was a perfect fit for playing the rejected lover. Wu is keen to follow his hero Jet Li one more time: he wants fame and he wants Hollywood. Li was 35 when he hit mainstream American audiences with Lethal Weapon 4, leaving competitive Wu just three years to prove himself – something he seems rather good at doing. Fatal Contact opens October 5.
	Could It Be? Actress Sydney, back and belly dancing onto the big screen. When producer Daniel Yu conjured up the idea of hiring glamourous actress Sydney to play a dowdy housewife in Lee Kung Lok’s quirkily titled movie My Mother Is a Belly Dancer, many were surprised. It had been more than five years since she’d last set Hong Kong’s TV screens alight with her fiery sexy characters, and since then she’d all but disappeared. It was the life mimicking art thing that Yu was after – Sydney plays a once passionate woman shrouded in the role of submissive housewife – he wanted to know what became of the siren he’d idolised. In the end, life did mimic art – for Sydney. She says that, like her character, she found belly dancing a voyage of self-discovery and enjoyed slipping into the tight fitting gauzy outfits. The challenge of perfecting the slinky routines – she spent three months rehearsing – left her feeling fresh and liberated. So had she entered a life of normality? Not really – her five years ‘off’ were spent acting in Taiwan, Singapore and Canada and she cites the meatier adulteress and evil captor’s aide parts as her favourites. But she still has yet to be offered her dream role – she’d give anything to play a drug addict. My Mother is a Belly Dancer opens October 19.
	The Black Dahlia Starring: Josh Hartnett, Aaron Eckhart, Scarlett Johansson, Hilary Swank Director: Brian de Palma Scheduled Release: October 12 Brian de Palma’s generally limp adaptation of James Ellroy’s novel The Black Dahlia – a mystery about the infamous 1947 Elizabeth Short murder – starts off smartly, setting us up for the bruising friendship between the stars, a couple of LA cops who also happen to be boxers and get paired up for a publicity-machine fight that touts them as "Mr. Fire and Mr. Ice." Ice is "Bucky" Bleichart (Josh Hartnett), a cool and low-key guy charitably described as a loser who gets his shot at a good chunk of change as well as reassignment to the LAPD's hotshot Warrants department for agreeing to the fight. Fire is Lee Blanchard (Aaron Eckhart), one of those bigger-than-life cops who cuts corners with aplomb and seems happy enough to bring Bucky on as his partner after knocking his teeth out (literally) in the ring. Further binding the two men together, besides work and friendship, is Kay Lake (Scarlett Johansson), the sultry blonde dame on Lee's arm who takes a shine to Bleichart that doesn't seem to be entirely platonic. The murder of Elizabeth Short – a horrific true-life case that was never solved, even after causing the largest manhunt in California history – comes in after the film is already well underway, and it becomes the thing that will expose the corruption already hinted at in practically every scene up to that point. Unfortunately, it also marks the point at which de Palma shifts from a mildly engaging neo-noir in the LA Confidential mode to a shrieking campfest in which the film's actresses seem to be competing for who can go furthest over the top. Oddly, in this context, the usually uncharismatic Hartnett comes off best by keeping things low and brooding, not stretching his limits. Against his quiet competency, an Oscar winner like Hilary Swank (playing a rich bisexual femme fatale who ensnares Bleichart) comes off as comically amateurish, while Fiona Shaw seems to be trying to one-up Joan Crawford, and the normally unflappable Johannson, who may look the part, is strangely unsure of herself and utterly unconvincing. Of the actresses, only Mia Kirshner, playing Short herself in some film clips discovered posthumously, creates a memorable character, her tear-stained, wounded innocence practically the only clue in the film to explaining Bleichart and Blanchard's obsession with the case. If de Palma seems to have little idea what to do with his actors, he has even less control over the story, which quickly drops any interest in the central murder case and goes looking for fun in places like a preposterously glam lesbian nightclub where k.d. lang croons Love for Sale amid a bevy of sleek, slinky dancers. The de Palma of yesteryear could have conjured some gritty magic out of a place like that, or some of the later confrontational scenes between Bleichart and his accused, but the camerawork is shoddy, the editing patchy, the score generic, and the whole enterprise depressingly devoid of the dark desires that such a story should conjure up. Chris Barsanti
	An Inconvenient Truth Starring: Al Gore Director: Davis Guggenheim Scheduled Release: October 5 We are all so going to die. Al Gore says so. In the deeply scary documentary An Inconvenient Truth, Gore shows more personality – and poses some even more devastating consequences – than he did in his entire election campaign. The issue of global warming is clearly one that is close to Gore’s heart, as he took to the road after his failed presidential bid on an international lecture circuit to raise awareness and inspire action on the near-crisis levels of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere and the havoc they are already wreaking on the planet. Essentially a filming of Gore’s polished, straightforward, and compelling lecture, Truth is pretty much the slickest, best-produced classroom filmstrip you’ll see at the local theatre. It’s at its most effective when director Davis Guggenheim does not try to be something more artsy than an educational tool and simply lets Gore’s pictures and staggering number of graphs of the assorted bar, line, and pie varieties do the razzle-dazzle for him. This is when Gore plainly explains how Earth is now home to levels of carbon dioxide literally unmatched in the last 600,000 years, and how the numbers are only going up. He does a great deal to show the damage this is already doing to the planet, with rapidly rising temperatures, weather disasters, instances of both flood and drought, new communicable diseases, and ecological patterns having detrimental effect to plants, animals, and humans alike.' Interspersed with Gore’s lecture, though, are brief segments on Gore-the-man, instead of Gore-the-cause, and the fawning and obsequious tone does nothing to strengthen his point. I do not need to be convinced by contemplative voice over and what looks an awful lot like blatant Apple product placement that Al Gore is just the bestest guy ever in order to be deeply swayed by his message. Between these indulgent interludes and the sheer volume of the graphs and data presented, it doesn’t take long for Truth to feel like it’s preaching to the choir. Gore is convincing, sure, and he repeatedly casts global warming not as a political issue, but as a moral imperative. But between rehashes of the 2000 presidential election quagmire, and the overt glorification of Gore at his tree-hugging liberal best, Guggenheim does little to reel in the disbelievers. By the time Gore gets to the misconceptions about global warming, including how its reversal can potentially help the global economy and how reports of its questionable veracity have been greatly exaggerated, audiences who may have needed those misconceptions corrected will have long since walked away or tuned out. What’s unfortunate is that it takes so long to get positive – Gore claims that he is not trying to scare us, but I’m not buying it, what with the profoundly disturbing truth of his statistics and images. He certainly scared the crap out of me. But what he doesn’t do is offer me anything that can be done about it. The only politicking Gore does is when asked what we should do about it, and he gives a great call to action, but he doesn’t give an answer. There is some hope offered in the form of existing technology that can reduce our carbon output, but frankly, this is a guy who was VP of the United States, and he wasn’t able to effect change. Now he’s telling me to fix it by… recycling? Yeah, we’re all gonna die. Anne Gilbert
	Volver Starring: Penelope Cruz, Carmen Maura, Lola Duenas Director:Pedro Almodovar Scheduled Release: October 5 Raimunda (Cruz) is a tempestuous housewife saddled with a layabout husband (Antonio de la Torre), a teenage daughter and several menial jobs. Her milder-mannered sister Sole (Lola Duenas) runs an illegal hair salon. They have escaped dusty village life for Madrid, but remain plagued by memories: the death of their parents in a fire, the angry seasonal winds, and small town gossip and superstition. Sole returns to the village for an aunt’s funeral while Raimunda must deal with her own tragedy. At the wake, Sole learns of the latest village rumour – her mother’s ghost is haunting the old family home – and is drawn to uncover a few secrets of her own. In an about turn from his last film, 2004’s male focused Bad Education, Almodovar returns to one of his favourite subjects: women. Volver scrutinises three generations in a circular script that picks at the secrets of two deeply intertwined families. It’s a bawdy film; characters fart, swear and tussle, but giggle about everything afterwards, and subjects that could be morbid are transformed into comedy in a delightful blend of dark and light. Men remain on the periphery, and women are celebrated for their strength. The script crackles with affection and crass wit: “You’re vulgar,” scorns Paula, Raimunda’s daughter, disapproving of her mother’s rapid cursing, but smothers her with kisses in the next breath. Almodovar delights in putting his characters into zany larger-than-life situations, and the whole cast turn in fine, truthful performances but Cruz especially makes a fantastic stab at a meaty character she looks too young to play. Even in polyester cleaner’s garb her Hollywood-toned body stands out and scenes showing her wielding a pickaxe and digging an enormous grave are deliciously humorous. In the end, Volver is an incredible tale of make-believe, sizzling with juicy characters embedded with secrets that unwind playfully, gently and beautifully. EK