disgusting, overrated, pointless

Brilliant and touching

brilliant actors, brilliant editing

This movie tries so hard to be funny, yet it falls flat every time. Just another example of recycled ideas repackaged with women in an attempt to appeal to a certain audience.

This is loosely based on events that occurred during Frank Sinatra's tour of Australia where, after referring to a female reporter as a "two-bit hooker" he was black-banned by the local unions.Sadly, what could have been an interesting look at a clash of cultures, values and strong-willed individuals descends into something resembling a comedy sketch put on by a country repertory company.Dennis Hopper does a stirling job as Sinatra, with very little directorial support. After a while you start to believe he is Ol' Blue Eyes. But virtually all the other characters are painted in the broad brush strokes of low farce. Joel Edgerton plays the hapless promoter as a dim-witted surfer with a tendency to fall over or get beaten up in every second scene. Portia de Rossi is so loathsome in her role as the maligned journalist that I found myself cheering for Sinatra and the mob for most of the movie.And, in a masterstroke of bizarre casting and makeup, David Field blithely appears on screen looking about as much like Bob Hawke as my mum. Moreover, he seems to have made a conscious decision not to even attempt Hawke's accent, nor any of his well known mannerisms. The overall effect is as if the producers had decided to cast Dame Edna Everage in the role and hope that no-one would notice.Almost every Australian character in the film comes across as either a bumbling half-wit or a self-serving thug. I'm surprised Tourism Australia didn't try to have it banned. The sole exception is the delightful Rose Byrne who, as the love interest/voice of sanity, seems to have been beamed in from a parallel universe.Lamenting the state of the Australian film industry is a national pastime. I think much of it stems from the industry's long love affair with 'daggyness' for its own sake. Who finds this quirky and endearing any more? It's just embarrassing, and the rest of the world obviously thinks so too. This film, with its woeful dialogue, wooden 'school play level' direction, zero character motivation and absurd plot, admirably demonstrates the problem.

ALL THE WAY (aka THE NIGHT WE CALLED IT A DAY) is a docudrama of sorts: it is based on a true incident that happened in Australia in 1974 and still is grumbled about today. Why this flimsy film was made in the first place seems only due to lasting resentments on the part of the Australians at the arrogant and crude behavior of Frank Sinatra when he made an appearance in Sydney during a world tour: he insulted the press, caused the labor unions to react in defiance by cordoning off his connection to the world outside his darkened hotel suite and demanded an apology from the star, an act that Sinatra refused to do.Writers Peter Clifton and Michael Thomas have attempted to make this boring incident viable by revealing the background events and characters surrounding the event. They have created Rod Blue (Joel Edgerton) as a failing show promoter who puts all his money and future into assuring the house for the concert. Australia loved Sinatra: this seemed his ticket to ride. Frank Sinatra (Dennis Hopper playing Dennis Hopper) arrives and one of the Press who alienates Sinatra is Rod's girl Hillary (Portia di Rossi) and when she asks inappropriate questions, Sinatra calls her a hooker and there begins the furor of the Aussies. The people are incensed at Sinatra's foul mouth and insensitivity and boycott the concert. The Labor Unions, representing the people of Australia, strike so that Sinatra is trapped in his hotel without light, water, food, room service, etc. Rod Blue's surefire scheme seems destined to fail.Sinatra is accompanied by his squad of hefty goons and his current paramour Barbara Marx (Melanie Griffith) and it is Barbara who intervenes and helps salvage the situation. She encourages Rod's mousy assistant Audrey (Rose Byrne) to believe in Rod whom she secretly loves and coerces Sinatra into negotiations with the people he has offended.Yes, it all works out in the end - Sinatra does his concert, Rod makes money and the audience appears satisfied and enthusiastic.Sound like a fairly boring film? Well, it is. It is partially saved by the entertainment of watching Hopper lip sync Sinatra songs as sung by Tom Burlinson, by Edgerton's commitment to make his hero Rod a credible human being, and by seeing Melanie Griffith looking terrific in beautiful gowns. Otherwise, despite the casts' best efforts, this is a forgettable film.

That song line from "all the way" is emblematic of The Night We Called It A Day, which starts out as a gritty piece of history, but ultimately becomes a testament to the joys of total romantic commitment.For much of The Night We Called It A Day, I thought I had the movie completely pegged: Frank Sinatra, representing US Cultural Imperialism, running roughshod over the Australian locals. I'm not thin-skinned, and not uncritical of the US myself, so I thought, okay...that along with the voyeur's pleasure of seeing the crude reality of Sinatra's private life portrayed on screen is sufficient for 90 minutes entertainment. But what starts out seeming like a poison pen letter turns out to be more of a Valentine, and the switch from one to the other makes the conclusion especially satisfying and exhilarating. The filmmakers play fast and loose with the facts toward the end, but the result is worth the artistic license.I doubt anyone could play Sinatra and come out on top; in his own films Sinatra had a singular presence that could never be duplicated by any mere actor. Hopper isn't mimicking, however, he is acting, and he does a good job of conveying the essence of his character. I imagine the most difficult part of the role was bringing the audience along in those scenes where Sinatra, without dropping his tough guy act, reveals a tiny glimpse of the sweeter inner man. I bought it.Maybe I was just in a receptive mood, but I immensely enjoyed it.

I managed to catch Paul Goldman's "The Night We Called It A Day" the last time it was being shown in a Toowoomba cinema. I took my sister with me. The movie was about three minutes in when I realised that it was me, my sister and a man in a Top Gun-esque fighter jacket that were going to see it for the final time on a giant screen (well, not giant really. That cinema needs to be repaired). Anyway, three people were watching this movie, and I was p***ed off that no one else bothered. That emotion was countered, I guess, when I paid attention to what was being projected onto this dilapidated screen. Superb performances by Joel Edgerton and David Field and a fine looking Frank Sinatra by the guy (and let's not forget this) who was a frighteningly aggressive rule-breaker in "Easy Rider." I don't know why this movie was bagged to the high heavens by Australian critics and audiences (or lack thereof) alike. It's a great movie and those who don't appreciate it, even marginally, oughta see it again. Go to the Toowoomba cinema to see it, okay? There's nobody around that will talk over the trailers...