All the Way

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.

Besides just the title change between the Australian release and the rest of the world, this is a film that obviously stirred up a lot of controversy and passion in Australia, given the reviews posted below. Quite understandable, given the political and social portraits it painted, very sharply and yet with great humor. (My favorite laugh: not even spoken, the newspaper headlines in the street when the "incident" becomes full-blown: "Regrets: He Has a Few" Ha!) And also that the Aussies know Bob Hawke and some of the other characters, and remember this outrageous incident well, and the rest of the world doesn't.

I found it to be a little gem of a film that I just discovered in my ongoing drive to see more Hopper films and revisit some that I hadn't seen since the '60s and '70s. And Hopper's performance as Sinatra was not the least of its charms: the romance and tribulations of the eminently likable promoter Rod Blue (who could forget that name?) and the utterly charming Audrey had that light touch of Hollywood and still the honest edge of Australian films.

Melanie Griffin is fully typecast as Barbara Marx and her complex and yet vapid relation with Sinatra is pathetic at first and gradually becomes a thing of warmth and understanding. The dramatic arc just really worked for me, although I kept thinking "How much of this really happened? They couldn't make up stuff about FRANK SINATRA, for crying out loud!"

This movie had fairly good reviews when it hit the cinemas here - and I frankly expected a lot more than it delivered.

Having been around at the time, I wondered then why so much was being made of Sinatra's well known behaviour and his hatred of the press in general. I thought it was a predictable series of events blown up - mainly by Union intervention - into an imagined insult on Australia and all it stood for. A classic example of our cultural cringe. That the aforesaid cringe is still rampant is illustrated by the fact that anyone decided to make this movie.

Itis totally impossible to cast anyone successfully as Frank Sinatra - the man was unique in so many ways. Dennis Hopper was I suppose a reasonable compromise, but his grating voice and total lack of charm spoilt much of the movie for me. Sinatra had a musical speaking voice, as well as his singing one - and his charm (when he chose to turn it on) was inescapable. Anyone unfamiliar with the Man, watching this movie would wonder what all the fuss was about. The ludicrous portrayal of Bob Hawke, a man who excelled in being ludicrous, was another disappointment. Tom Burlinson's delivery of the few songs was, as usual, competent and wooden - Hopper's "on-stage" lip-synching missed everything that was magical in a Sinatra performance. Melanie Griffith was - Melanie Griffith, the rest of the cast was competent and did their best with what in the end was nothing more than a fairytale wound loosely round an actual series of events.

Not a totally bad movie - entertaining in parts - but on the whole a waste of time and money.

I watched this title billed as a comedy. It's not really because there aren't any laughs in it.

This film gives a version of events from a notorious Frank Sinatra tour of Australia in the 70s. I'm not a big Sinatra fan - but I rented this film for a £1 from my satellite provider. You can afford to go wrong for a pound.

Sadly it isn't a comedy on any level really. It just doesn't function in that way. It's a solid (solid to wooden) sentimental romance story though - gentle if somewhat uninvolving, take it or leave it affair. Roguish main character with straight-laced opposite number - will they or won't they chemistry (which never really becomes that compelling).

A good solid performance can be found with pretty much every actor involved in this uninspiring, two dimensional script in a robust and professional fashion.

Nobody really manages to lift the script with a standout display.

If I would offer any criticism, it would be the lack of character development. The characters are incredibly under developed and shallow. We know that Audry Appleby is supposed to be intelligent because Rod Blue clumsily points out her degree certificate, and she stands next to it in shot a couple of times. We know that Rod Blue is a bit of an Aussie bloke because he gets into a couple of fights (you see the injuries, but generally not the fights). That's about the depth that you get offered.

I would describe this as forgettable and bland. I wouldn't recommend it - albeit, it's far from awful. You never really care what the film is ultimately going to culminate in. It won't irritate you, you won't dislike it - there is nothing to be offended by here. They are remarkably delicate with the portrayal of Frank Sinatra himself - so even the fans won't be barbed.

Watch it or don't watch it, but don't expect too much.

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.