Film festivals are the sort of whirlwind affairs young cinephiles dream about. My year seems to revolve around MIFF; Plans for work or school seem to bend at the will of a packed 2 week slate of cinema trips and 7-11 coffee runs. Film festivals are, conceptually, a concentrated dose of everything I love in the world: cinema (obviously), spending time with friends, rigorous debate, etc. I can hardly think of something I'd rather do than spend all day running around trying to catch various screenings with many of my closest friends.
While my yearly schedule is anchored by MIFF, my weekly schedule is largely dictated by film clubs. In the last few years, Melbourne has seen an explosion of film clubs which offer havens for local cinephiles to experience fascinating, underground film programming at an affordable price. I go to at least 1 film club a week, usually 2 or 3. I run one myself. Melbourne's developing underground film culture is swarming with like-minded, passionate film buffs who possess an energy and fervor for the weird and wonderful films of the world which fills me with an indescribable amount of joy. It was only a matter of time before this energy coalesced into something like the Brunswick Underground Film Festival, Melbourne's newest and most exciting film festival.
BUFF was held over 3 days from May 30-June 1 and featured a program filled with underground cinema from all around the world. With a full festival pass, like the one I had, clued-in Melbourne cinephiles had access to 15 sessions worth of the most exciting film programming the city has seen in as long as I can remember. Everything was on display here: from local premieres to exploitation classics to underrated gems from the silent era onwards; there was genuinely something for everybody here. In the lead-up to BUFF I had become a total acolyte, meticulously comparing schedules with my friends, studying the program, spreading the word to everyone I knew. By the time it finally rolled around I was at a fever pitch, itching to spend 3 straight days in front of the 3 screens being used at BUFF. And I did. Here is a recap of everything I saw.
Opening Night
Jackass: The Movie, Jackass Number Two, Jackass 3D (Jeff Tremaine, 2002, 2006, 2010)
The opening night Jackass triple feature was one of my most anticipated parts of BUFF and it did not disappoint. I had seen each of these films multiple times but this was my first time seeing them with a big crowd and they played super well. These are the funniest movies ever made. I cried laughing at various points throughout all three. The woman behind me was cackling and screaming and mouthing along the whole time, it was beautiful. Watching them all together, it did strike me how much more polished they get as they go along. The stunts get bigger, yes, but no less juvenile; what actually changes is the way they're presented: moving from shoddy standard definition to crisp HD, higher profile cameos, more assured cinematography. Seeing them back-to-back-to-back is kind of a trip, watching these people grow up as well as their budgets and filmmaking ability. The other thing that really struck me on this rewatch is just how much these movies do actually have things to say. The thematic content of the films is present from the start, but by the third film they really do start to foreground ideas about found family, friendship and masculinity with a perspective that strangely you don't see very often. These guys are men, they behave in typically masculine ways, but at the same time they are making themselves very vulnerable and constantly expressing a deep love and kinship with each other. In many ways, its extremely queer, and not just because Bam Margera takes a golden dildo up the ass at one point. I have a long, complicated history with these movies, but they really do bring me so much joy and it was a distinct privilege to be able to share that with so many people that night.
Day 2
Vulcanizadora (Joel Potrykus, 2024)
The first 40 minutes of Vulcanizadora is an almost painfully funny examination of male friendship which plays something like a dirtbag Old Joy. The rest of the film, however, is wholly disturbing and bleak and left me wandering out of the cinema feeling horrible about the world we live in and the people in it. It made me so sad about the prospect of never really growing up, of ending up in a dead-end situation I can't get out of, of being a shitty person who believes themselves unworthy of redemption. I'm in awe of how meticulously this film follows its ideas through to their conclusion and how willing it is to take the audience along for the ride. Joshua Burge has a fantastic face.
The Lost Sex Films of Kings Cross (George and Charis Schwarz, 1970-1975)
These 70s Australian sex films are perhaps more interesting as historical artifacts than art, but I had a pretty good time watching them! It's fascinating seeing porn from Australia at this time to begin with, but I was kind of shocked by how much these films are dedicated to being educational tools largely about how to make a woman cum. While I hardly agree with their methods (a little too much fruit for my liking), seeing things like the penis splint really did make me giggle. They aren't sexy at all—with the exception of the first film, The Dream, which is a slight, silent 8mm lesbian scene—but nonetheless I was somewhat captivated and moved seeing these films.
I DRINK SORROW: The Films of Kalil Haddad (Kalil Haddad, 2017-2024)
This shorts package was one of the most stunning, confronting and divisive things I saw at the festival. I was familiar with Haddad's work through his short The Taking of Jordan (All-American Boy), one of the more confronting and horrific experimental short films I'd ever seen. Seeing a concentrated dose of Haddad's work, I was surprised by how soft and tender some of his other films were in comparison. Where Taking of Jordan is a brutal look at exploitation and violence in gay communities as seen through gay pornography, Haddad's other shorts tackle topics such as urban alienation, suburban teenage queerness and the clashes between immigrant cultures and queerness. I sobbed all through The Beautiful Room is Empty, a short in which Haddad's aunt recounts her experiences of sexual abuse and growing up queer in an Arab family. It hit pretty close to home and put into words many things I had felt at various points throughout my life but had never been able to adequately express. The later shorts in this program, particularly the ones which dealt with pornographic material, are deeply disturbing and gave rise to some small controversy among my friends about the positionality of Haddad to this material. Regardless, this program was one of my highlights of the entire festival and has made me incredibly excited to see where Haddad's career goes from here.
Frankenhooker (Frank Henenlotter, 1990)
It was a bit surreal shifting from the apocalyptic dismay of Kalil Haddad to Frank Henenlotter's remarkably goofy body horror classic Frankenhooker, but once my brain had made the adjustment I was all-in. Frankly, I'm shocked I hadn't seen this (or any Henenlotter) before considering my love for both Frankenstein and schlocky 80s body horror. Incredibly funny, stunningly goopy and, when you break it down, weirdly progressive film. There is genuinely something being said here about the ongoing impact of Reaganism and the War on Drugs, the demonization and criminalization of sex work and even just a broad examination of gender roles in general. It also features something called "Super Crack," which is highly powerful Crack which makes you explode instantly. The world contains multitudes.
Some further notes: I want to dress up as Frankenhooker for Halloween this year; my Dad would probably really like this movie.
Bad Girls Go To Hell (Doris Wishman, 1965)
This B-movie masterclass from exploitation extraordinaire Doris Wishman is mercifully only 65 minutes long and I loved (hated?) every second. I don't know how it's possible to make a movie this fun when it is, effectively, an hour long montage of a woman being repeatedly raped. The ending is among the more bleak I've ever seen, tearing out the happy (if cliché) ending from under us and subjecting us one last time to the horrors of sexual violence. There's an extended sequence featuring a groovy sixties dyke in a tight body suit. It's sort of hard for me to even explain what is so funny or appealing or sad about anything presented here. Just go watch it, maybe you'll regret it, maybe it'll change your life, regardless you'll find it interesting. Doris Wishman was 53 when she made this and would continue making films until she died in 2002, Godspeed.
I.K.U. (Shu Lea Cheang, 2000)
Sexy? Yes? Arousing? No? Awesome? Most definitely. Shu Lea Cheang's experimental sci-fi queer porno is maybe the quintissential distillation of Y2K futurist aesthetics and one of the most important uses of MiniDV I can think of. Every scene is bathed in neo-futuristic special effects, primitive CGI and pixelated wash. The Blade Runner-esque plot is almost immediately rendered illegible and as a viewer you kind of just have to let the aesthetic exercises and future fucking wash over you. In the future genders won't matter and we're all gonna get fist-fucked by CGI penis arms. Amen.
UKI (Shu Lea Cheang, 2023)
This was the part of my recap I was dreading. By the time I was seated for UKI I was very tired and cold. I had loved I.K.U. and was excited to see what Shu Lea Cheang's decades-later follow-up had to offer. Even weeks later, I still have no idea what to make of UKI. In many ways I'm extremely on-board with the horrible Unity animated characters musing on post-humanism in a way I find largely incomprehensible and completely confusing. On the other hand, the live action portions of this film feature characters in a CGI Edward Hopper painting with #BLM scribbled over the walls reciting really bad slam poetry about George Floyd and COVID. They are maybe trans. This movie was made in 2023 when this sort of thing was already well out of vogue. It ends with an incredibly sincere Chocolate Rain needle-drop, a callback to a moment at the start of the film which featured the US government dropping chemicals on civilian populations. Is this an ironic anti-woke artifact which is making fun of liberals by suggesting that COVID is making kids trans? Probably. Is this an entirely sincere expression of radical transgender post-humanism made by someone who was maybe radical in the 90s but whose politics haven't really progressed since? Also probably. My brain cannot make sense of any of this no matter how many conversations I have with people about it. Maybe this is the closest I've ever come to understanding Dialectics. A masterpiece and also one of the worst, most infuriating films I've ever seen.
Day 3
Body and Soul (Oscar Micheaux, 1925)
This silent masterpiece by Oscar Micheaux, the first major African-American filmmaker whose work is largely overlooked today, was maybe the most surprising of my favourites of the festival. I was expecting something which tackled racism and race-relations in an extremely didactic, head-on manner but this film really is anything but. It's a film about America, religion, gender, sex, crime, sexual violence, blind faith, money and so many other things. The assumption that silent films somehow have less to say than other films has always been misguided, but I was genuinely stunned by what a sophisticated visual and thematic language this film develops. Without the benefit of spoken dialogue, Micheaux manages to tie together racial exploitation to religious subjugation and male violence in a way that feels extremely rounded and anything but obvious. Parts of this film were extremely shocking and upsetting, anchored by Paul Robeson's towering, menacing performance (in his screen debut!). A hidden gem!
The Owls (Cheryl Dunye, 2010)
I love Cheryl Dunye and this film in particular is really the sort of thing that gets my juices flowing. Dunye's trademark mix of fact and fiction reaches a fever pitch here as character/actor/filmmaker all blend together. The classic thriller set-up is basically a ruse so that Dunye can explore questions about queer identities, generational differences, racial/class relations and ideas about authorship, characters and the relationship between fiction and reality. It's pretty funny, kind of dark and just the sort of thing I'm always looking for. Digital has never really looked this gross and shit. Everything is grey and so are all of us.
Secret Screening: The King of Darkness (Nick Murcott, 2025)
I know Nick and it really was a great privilege to see an unfinished rough cut of his debut feature The King of Darkness. This screening was maybe the encapsulation of the most exciting thing about BUFF for me, which is that the BUFF programmers are so enthusiastic about young, local underground filmmakers and are extremely willing to showcase their work to an audience which it might not otherwise have.
Where do I even begin writing about this film though. It features a neo-Shakespearian narrative surrounding The Prince of California whose father, The King of California, has just been killed. The narrative follows the newly crowned King through a heartbreaking odyssey of narcissism, consumerism and, naturally, AI slop. Every element here is pitched to be as alienating as humanly possible, from the drawn-out takes extended by bad AI to the overdubbed AI vocals to the incessant brand name-dropping through every single sentence. Melbourne is made out to be LA by way of China in what is actually a very interesting look at the flattening of culture in the face of globalisation. It's all incredibly silly but, importantly, completely unironic. While a lesser filmmaker would consider themselves above this material, Murcott is wise enough to know that the only way any of this works is if it's entirely sincere and I'm happy to report that it is. In many ways its kind of a damning self-portrait—considering Murcott himself plays the titular King of Darkness—of a man entirely consumed by the narcissistic promises of capital to the point where his only option is total self-annihilation. Impressive stuff from one of Melbourne's brightest young stars.
Wanda (Barbara Loden, 1970)
This is probably the film I saw at BUFF which was least suited to the hectic festival vibe and the one which I most want to rewatch at some point. Wanda is a slow, understated portrait of a woman at the end of her rope. It's really upsetting and sad and doesn't really seem to offer any resolution or solace. I wish I could have sat with it for longer but I was whisked away to my next session and immediately obliterated. I don't have much else to say about Wanda, though I wish I did.
Cuddly Toys (Kansas Bowling, 2021)
Easily the best thing I saw at BUFF. A completely life-changing film and by far the longest 102 minutes of my entire life. This is the sort of uncompromising, unrelenting art that is so rare and so thrilling when you finally encounter it.
Cuddly Toys is one of the only true modern-day exploitation films. It features filmmaker Kansas Bowling as a fictionalized professor guiding the audience through her research into the lives of teenage girls. What she has found is horrific and Bowling is hell-bent on making sure you feel all of that horror. Cuddly Toys opens and closes with a Monkees song—from which it gains its title—where-in Davy Jones sings about how the exploitation his unnamed subject faces is not unique or special and is, perhaps, her own fault for keeping particular company or not telling her mother. Cuddly Toys puts this concept into action, presenting countless tales of teenage girls in compromising situations where they are exploited, abused, kidnapped, drugged, raped and/or murdered. Bowling has no problem making equivalences between the exploitation of the cosmetic surgery industry and violent gang rape. These are all symptoms of the same misogynist machine which chews up and spits out young girls with no regard for their safety or well-being. Bowling offers no answers. We, as audience members, are forced to endure this violence with no way to stop it or even reconcile our role in the cultures of exploitation which create and perpetuate this violence. It is sickening, heartbreaking and shockingly confronting. To say I was holding back tears is an understatement; I felt like my entire body was screaming at me to look away, to break down, to hide and cower. I can't remember ever feeling that uncomfortable watching a film.
The Code (Eugene Kotlyarenko, 2024)
This is the worst movie I'll see all year. I don't even really want to write about it to be honest. Neo-fascist garbage in line with all the other Dimes Square slop its stars are associated with. The faux sincerity is sickening, particularly considering how annoyingly ironic 99% of the material is. I can't even get excited about the bold editing and camera choices because I've seen it all done before or better by the likes of Ryan Trecartin or Conner O'Malley. This shit just makes me sad and it's only ever occasionally funny. Ivy Wolk innocent. This is all I have to say.
So that was BUFF, probably the best weekend I've had/will have all year. Thank you so much to all of the festival organisers/volunteers/anyone else who helped make it run. Thank you to all of the beautiful new people I met and talked to between films. Everyone involved in BUFF is amazing and passionate and the whole event was completely invigorating so again, thank you all.