Ruben Guthrie

Patrick brammall is ruben, aussie party animal. He's big and successful, but seems to have a drinking problem. And just lost his model girlfriend. But she's going to give him one more chance. If he can stay off the bottle. And get control of his own life! Everyone around him wants to rule his life...his mom, his girlfriends, his best friend, even his boss at work doesn't respect his effort to get off booze. How low will things go before he gets control of his own life? It's mostly well done. The flashback scenes in the bar just go on way too long. And the ending seems appropriate, but will probably frustrate some viewers. Great scenery of sydney. Written and directed by brendan cowell. Apparently this started as a play.

Like so many Australian films, Ruben Guthrie is thin, shallow and populated by caricatures who never really threaten to turn into fully formed characters. For a few moments here and there I thought - more hoped - that it might prove to be a serious and scathing look at Australian drinking culture. And there's one scene where there is a momentary suggestion that it might have something provocative to say about the dubious cult that is Alcoholics Anonymous (and its even more dubious success rate). But no. Ruben Guthrie not only has nothing new to say, its notions of how alcohol is viewed in Australia seem a good twenty or thirty years out of date. To give but one example: everyone in Ruben's life - his boss, his father, his best mate, his mother - refuses to take his decision to quit alcohol seriously, refuses to really accept that alcoholism could be his problem; indeed, they all actively insist he snap out of it and have another drink. Yes - just like it isn't the 21st century, educated middle-class people aren't acutely aware of the dangers of alcohol, and parents, employers or best friends never respect someone's decision not to drink. This is also a film crammed with the kind of faux-dramatic gestures beloved by writers who can't actually generate genuine drama through actual conflict. At various points Ruben smashes a bottle against his mirrored home bar, throws his mobile phone into the harbour and rips his laptop into pieces... as people almost never do in real life. All this and - just for good measure - an annoying and offensive gay stereotype mincingly played by Alex Dimitriades. The direction is distractingly show- offy at times, befitting a film that is all surface and no substance. Yet again one is left wondering what the film funding bodies saw in the script that convinced them it was worth spending the nation's money on.

Suffice it to say, Australian actors are almost always, in the least, competent.

But after seeing this, the only thing I can say about it is--it's competently made, is Australia-centric, allowed some decent, professional actors to make a living, and is as predictable as tomorrow's sunrise.

"Writer-Director" Cowell appears to prove, once again, that good writer-directors are extremely rare. In Crowell's case, I'd say that it's the writing part that fails here. The script is competently (yet predictably) paced, but the premise itself is about as original as a corporate ad--plenty of time to 'hit the loo', knowing that you'd miss nothing of importance no matter how long you took (sorry but it's not very much about missing any actor's glowing moment-- moments usually only recognized if the film itself is a worthy vehicle for such).

As for Cowell's direction, the danger here for any Australian film- maker, I think, is over saturation a la the 'Luhrmann Effect', in that, the wreckage Luhrmann made of Gatsby (offensive to virtually all those above the age of 'twenny sumpthin') is invisible against his previous success to any wannabe writer-director--while Cowell avoids the gaudy baubles and annoying soundtrack irrelevancies, the source of his inspiration is obvious. There are two likely outcomes for W/D's suffering from this: you either manage to pull off a unique, quirky, original film, or, in failure (as is most always the case), you mill out another ad-carrying vehicle for late-night TV.

To me, one thing I've always liked about Australian actors is their ability to provide an absorbing level of depth to their characters, juxtaposed to what I've recognized as a profound, inexplicably acute dearth of originality coming from the Great Down-Under. Give me an Australian Actor and/or DOP any day--leave the writer/directors at home.

Ultimately, perhaps it is best to view this film as a bit of worthy self-reflection for a country that still has an enormous problem with alcoholics, and that this such relevancy may be lost on outsiders, but other than that, I would never willingly pay to see this film, (I saw it for free through my streaming account) nor have wasted my time seeing it had I known what I was in for.

But in the end, what drives me to critique this and other similar films so energetically is the exasperation I feel when witnessing the waste--so many good scripts out there by competent writers will be consummately ignored by so many wannabe do-it-alls with-- unfortunately for all of us--nice-sized production budgets.

Thanks for providing a living wage for yet another film crew and decent local actors though. If this was merely something done to fill up the contract calendar while working on The Big Thing, then I can better understand.

4 Stars--for the acting and production work. .

Maybe it's because I read the negative reviews before watching it and was prepared for an awful film, but I didn't think it was that bad. I definitely wouldn't pay to see it, and feel bad for anyone who did - especially if it was in the theaters.

I will agree with other users and say that the ending was just awful - almost renders the entire movie pointless. When the scene ended, I had a sneaking suspicion that it was the end, but really hoped I was wrong. There's basically no resolution.

The "actress" who plays Zoya definitely delivers a flat performance, but I think that's due more to the language barrier. And it really doesn't cover the topic of alcoholism all that well. I have to think that the writer either isn't familiar with AA or AA is drastically different in Australia.

Anyway, if you're a fan of Patrick Brammal or any of the other actors and have nothing to do on a Sunday afternoon, it's worth streaming just to kill some boredom, but it's far from award worthy, and as I said, the ending is extremely dissatisfying.

Brendan Cowell's previous screen writing credit was for the woeful comedy Save Your Legs, a film so poor in concept that how it ever came to production simply beggars belief.

Ruben Guthrie, fortunately, proves to be a few notches above his Indian-based cricket caper. Adapted by Cowell from his own stage play, he also directs with some confidence.

The film centres, as the title eponymously suggests, on the character Ruben Guthrie (Patrick Brammall), a high-flying advertising guru enjoying the hedonistic excesses that are perceived as integral to that profession; his persona neatly fits the acronym Lombard – a lot of money but a right dick. Enjoying the trappings of his lifestyle, he drunkenly jumps from a ledge as a stunt narrowly avoiding fatal injuries. This proves too much for his beautiful and long-suffering Czech fiancée who walks out on him but advises she could return if he can stay off the drink for a year and turn his life around. The film then chronicles Ruben's life as he attempts to do just that.

It is at this juncture that the film is at its strongest. Ruben's journey takes something of a random trajectory as he finds a lack of support from close family, colleagues and friends all of whom seem to have their own selfish motives in their dealings with him. Patrick Brammall brings great nuance to his role, injecting depth into his character and carrying the film squarely on his shoulders. The supporting cast – Jack Thompson and Robyn Nevin as the estranged, alcohol-soaked parents; Alex Dimitriades as the caustic gay best friend; Jeremy Sims as the troubled boss and Harriet Dyer as the superficial flake from the AA group who ends up in his bed are all assured in their roles. The less said about Brenton Thwaites' poorly acted, poorly written role as the new social-media face of advertising, the better.

Direction from Cowell was well-paced and cinematography was good, only occasionally let down by some sloppy editing. Locations were well chosen and Guthrie's exclusive waterfront property in which many scenes were shot, always gave the impression of being a trophy house rather than a home. His over the top bar, which amusingly stayed in situ during his abstinence, would not have disgraced the swankiest New York private club.

But at just over 90 minutes the film needed more. It lacked enough wit to be considered a full comedy and required more bite. Guthrie's story alone was not enough for a cinematic release. Although it rarely betrayed its theatrical origins, the story needed to expand to explore more themes, to perhaps satirise the advertising industry and those who inhabit its self-absorbed world. Nonetheless, the film still delivers some punches and Patrick Brammall's performance alone merits great praise.