A Month of Sundays


Comedy / Drama

IMDb Rating 6 10 297


Downloaded times
May 29, 2020


Anthony LaPaglia as Dick Dresner
Gary Sweet as Hans
Julia Blake as Sarah
Justine Clarke as Wendy McKinnon
720p.WEB 1080p.WEB
1006.9 MB
English 2.0
23.976 fps
105 min
P/S N/A / N/A
2.02 GB
English 2.0
23.976 fps
105 min
P/S N/A / N/A

Movie Reviews

Reviewed by andrewbunney 9 / 10 / 10

Lovingly presented. A rare opportunity not to be passed up.

Real estate agent Frank Mollard (Anthony LaPaglia) can't move on. Divorced but still attached, he can't connect with his teenage son. One night Frank gets a phone call from his mother who died a year ago. This leads him to explore his grief with wise elder, Sarah played by Julia Blake ('Man of Flowers', 'Prisoner', 'Innocence', 'Wolverine'). Set in the leafy suburban streets of picturesque Adelaide, it's a gentle tale of modern life during a real estate boom and of the human connection that makes a house a home. It is really about everything; parents, children, regrets, love, work, grief and ordinary people finding improbable salvation. Adelaidey-odlians will find it especially poignant because it involves a nostalgic nod to the ¼ acre block with fruit trees that is rapidly being consigned to history. But with the superb cast, it's a very fine film, regardless. LaPaglia (ex-Norwood High School) and Julia Blake (at 79 years) are note perfect in the lead roles. LaPaglia's real estate agent, Frank, is a sad sack with his rut deeply, sharply cut. All locations are described with his realtor's double-speak, even when he comes home to his Linden Park unit after work; "Needs a little attention, decorator's dream" etc. Mixed with the serious themes, there's plenty to laugh at in Frank's interactions with his newly successful ex-wife played by Justine Clarke, and in his clumsy interactions with his son and potential home-buyers. His boss is played by ex-Kiwi, the beloved comic John Clarke who inevitably steals all his scenes with hilarious dead-pan contributions. There's also a hearing impaired element to the story which can make this film that rare, rich experience for the deaf community (in its closed caption version) and the wider audience. With equal parts comedy, tragedy and heart-warming wisdom, writer director Matthew Saville (Tim Winton's 'Cloudstreet', 'Roy Hollsdotter Live' & Chris Lilley films) has created an understated masterpiece to sit alongside great suburban Adelaide films such as 'Travelling Light', 'Return Home' and 'Look Both Ways'. (Snowtown is in another genre!) Cinematographer Mark Wareham throws our streets and backyards onto the big screen with great understanding and skill, so best get yourself secure housing in Adelaide if you can, before the whole world sees this big-hearted film and comes a-bidding. Andrew Bunney, Let's Go to the Pictures, 9-11 AM Thursday, 3D Radio, Adelaide 937FM, Digital, iTunes

Reviewed by CineMuseFilms 10 / 10 / 10

A thoughtful and well-acted portrait of an emotionally convoluted archetypal Australian male who exists just this side of clinical depression.

Some films attract critical consensus while others trigger polar opposite opinions like A Month of Sundays (2016). Australian colloquial drama is not for everyone and it takes patience to engage with slow-paced laconic narratives that rely on insider humour for meaning. Aussie horrors and dystopian thrillers are well known but there are few films that stand tall for sensitively exploring the inner world of male emotion. In fact, we have culturally fortified ourselves with a style of Ocker farce to shield us from knowing too much about what lurks within the Australian male. Lacklustre real estate agent Frank (Anthony LaPaglia) is the quintessential Aussie bloke. He is a poor salesman and has neither the verbal wit or emotional maturity to deal with the double-barrel grief of his recent divorce or his mother's recent death. By extraordinary coincidence he takes a misdirected call from Sarah (Julia Blake) who sounds just like his mother and the few minutes on the phone fills an emotional void. One thing leads to another, they become friends, and Frank learns to open up on the various emotional fronts of his life. The sub-plot lines include redeeming the relationship with his son, resolving feelings about his wife and mother, dealing with Sarah's health issues, and experiencing the ordinary pleasure of being nice to people. It's a simple narrative arc, but dense with emotional side-tracks and blockages that Frank cannot resolve alone. Themes of emotional estrangement, aging, death and grief are lightened by the deadpan humour exchanged between Frank and his boss (John Clarke) and the constant running commentary in real estate language, a clever device that mocks the Aussie obsession with property ownership. The filming has many long fixed frames and scenes where nothing happens except what we can infer is going on inside Frank's head. When he appears to be struggling emotionally, the recurring real estate babble kicks in to punctuate the silence while he retreats into his private world of make- believe sales talk with imaginary buyers. Some critics have panned the film's central premise and slow-burn plot, but it stands out as a thoughtful and well-acted portrait of an emotionally convoluted archetypal Australian male who exists just this side of clinical depression. Frank is ordinariness personified and not very likable at all, but he is very recognisable in this country. This is an original funny-sad look at a type of Aussie male who should watch this film for their own good.

Reviewed by imdbusrr 10 / 10 / 10

Film Makers' Film That Dignifies Australia And Our Craft

Even favourable external reviews of this witty, wise and beautiful film have been almost dismissive and certainly offhand. One shouldn't be surprised that the aggregated rating on Rotten Tomatoes is so preposterously low [29% at last glance- I will glance no more!]; it's a representation of the level of ignorance that's out there in official critland, especially North American critland, but as well in the UK. They have almost no clue what makes Aussies tick, and they won't get this film. 'Professional' reviewers lacking the ability to bring real wisdom to bear no matter how broad their knowledge of film, and still feel entitled to adopt such condescending tones as the following: "could find a few art house takers in Anglophone territories", "well-worn notions of redemption and acceptance". To take this tone, vaguely accusatory of unoriginality while finding it crucial to make sure the reader takes note that the reviewer has IDd at least two of the themes is a lot like that old joke in which a man wouldn't join any club that would accept him; 'I guessed what the film is about, therefore it's too easy and beneath me'. Shakespeare dealt in 'well worn' themes. They're well worn because they are deeply required themes to be represented for humanity, and they should be eternally worked over. One external newspaper reviewer, someone we need to know is super- clever, found fault with a long camera shot which, being a tribute to another director/film, was 'distracting'. Bring it on I say. The richer the film's material, the more there is to love. Life is also full of subplots and digressions. What's wrong with a little whimsy? It's thoroughly enjoyable. Another claims that the film's central friendship is too unconventional and that suspicions of serial killer madness might be fitting; that the film might better have been made as a thriller. What a poisonous notion, that friendships can only be allowed to exist founded on introductions by mutual friends with the right credentials. I'd like to thank the film makers here for showing Australians what we really do still need to be reminded of, namely that the most desolate culturescape is enriched by the people who dwell therein. We have everything needed for nourishment of the soul to offer each other if we can transcend convention and ennui and only connect. There is nothing wrong with editorialising, nothing wrong with a little didacticism. Why conceal it? You don't have to agree. Just don't find fault with the fact some real values are being presented. Australia has for years been afflicted with a housing 'bubble'. Whole generations of the population are being screwed. People can't afford to buy shelter these days, and television therefore proliferates with architecture/house/reno/interior design porn. In Month of Sundays we are shown that even profiteers in this giant racket are demoralised and damaged in such a climate of greed and exploitation. As in another film I love, The Cave of the Yellow Dog, Month of Sundays has plenty of amusing little 'lessons'. As two people cathartically indulge grief-filled nostalgia on the site of a demolished former family home with their backs to the street, behind them processes a bunch of fairy-costumed little girls with party balloons in colours impactfully vivid. The lost past is desolation, but here behind you is the bright and alive present if only you could turn and look. A death is a cruelly unexpected breakup, but if and when you can find the courage to let go, the many colours of life await. The welcome mat is reversed: welcome to the world. Everybody is vulnerable without a single toothmark on the scenery, ever. The acting in this film is really seriously fine and so are the editing decisions. I love a contemplative film that respects actors and the subject enough to let duration pass. This sort of style is powerfully immersive, especially for anyone who may recognise the many cultural references that bring us straight to our memories of very particularly Aussie times and places without recourse to cliché or stereotype. Not enough can be said in praise of this film. External critics, drop your complacent posturing and lift your games!

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