He Died with a Felafel in His Hand

I have to say I approached this movie with some dubiousness as I had read the book, which had no plot whatsoever, and was unsure how they were going to turn it into a film, but I found myself really enjoying this movie. Readers of the book will recognise many, many characters amalgamated into a few central ones. Basically this movie is about Danny, an aspiring writer who has lived in 49 different houses with an assortment of dead-beats, moontanners, lesbians, Satan-worshippers, neurotics, etc., etc., their antics and tangled relationships. As far as acting is concerned, Noah Taylor takes the bored, lifeless facial expression to new heights. Despite the lack of plot this was a very easy and enjoyable movie to watch, although it put me off share-housing for life. I would recommend this to any movie-goer looking for something different and original with personality.

I thought I knew what offbeat, absurdist comedy was, but I think this is weirder than anything else I can recall watching. A sense of narrative is present but emphatically minimized as we're instead treated to a series of vignettes loosely centered around one character who is around for all of them to one degree or another. Each successive scene is theoretically grounded in some real-life scenario but taken to far-flung, farcically fantastical heights, with characters likewise rooted in earnest personalities and backgrounds but twisted into outlandish new shapes. Every small development along the way, scene writing and dialogue, almost comes out of nowhere, all but nonsensical, in shaping the story from one moment to the next as quasi-protagonist Danny finds himself living with an assemblage of bizarre persons. And all the the while the film maintains a dry, deadpan tone that, in tempering the silliness, adds to it. 'He died with a felafel in his hand' is a curiosity among curiosities.

The abject strangeness in Richard Lowenstein's screenplay is further amplified by his very particular shot composition, some choice lighting, and Andrew de Groot's very particular cinematography. All these lend to the fanciful whimsy that dominates these 100-some minutes, such that any themes or ideas broached that in another title would be serious and sincere (interpersonal drama, social issues, cultural values) are almost completely anything but in this case. Factor in the acting, which thanks to the dry tone comes off as entirely serious and sincere, and the result at all points is a perfectly ludicrous cavalcade of odd tomfoolery that at once is both logical and calculated, and illogical and off the cuff.

For all the abstruseness, there's almost a sense of free-form, improvisational poetry about the proceedings - a keen imagination finding structure where there is little or none, building something extraordinary out of practically nothing. And for all that - this is impressively well made, somehow funny and obliquely heartwarming amidst all the wild turns that it takes. Lowenstein demonstrates a fierce intelligence as both writer and director, bringing order to this left-field tableau like a kaleidoscope turned into a cubist mosaic. The cast give deceptively solid performances of nuance, range, and poise, providing a glimmer of honest humanity amidst dishonest baloney. And all the contributions of those behind the scenes - production design and art direction, hair and makeup, costume design, effects, stunts - are gratifyingly sharp and splendid, a real treat. I'm hard-pressed to think of any point of comparison to what this movie represents, though I'd certainly be interested in watching it. This probably won't appeal to everyone, considering its approach to humor and storytelling, but for anyone who appreciates the more unconventional and off-center side of cinema, this is maybe kind of a must-see? 'He died with a felafel in his hand' is definitely a picture all its own, that's for sure, and I'm so very pleased with just how entertaining it is.

I certainly enjoyed this inventive and unique piece of Australian moviemaking. I think that it was extremely well put together piece of film. I was always in pain from laughing so much. When the scene with the skinheads with the chainsaws happened I almost swallowed my Coke can !!! I must also compliment the casting director as the cast was certainly very well matched to their roles and made this film a pleasure to watch. I have been in the film industry ten years myself and would feel very proud to have been involved in such a production. My favorite character Was the African redneck, a brilliant and hilarious performance. Miss Hamilton is an outstanding actress with a huge future. Along side her alluring beauty is a marvelously dedicated and intelligent actress, I thought Miss Hamilton made the film so much the better. Congraduations to the crew and artists for producing one of the ten best films I have ever seen. And you go Miss Hamilton, you have everything it takes to go as far as it gets.

Craig Wilson

A great Aussie film successfully continuing the tradition of character based humour that made shows such as the BBC's 'The Young Ones' so successful. The protagonist's frequent housing changes and philosophical musings are entertaining and while there isn't so much as an overall plot to tie it all together, you are absorbed by the gripping personalities of the characters. The film contains every sort of bizarre and twisted personality imaginable and flaunts them in a parade of pagan rituals, drug abuse, vaguely criminal activity and postmodern angst. However much of the humour relies on an understanding of Australian stereotypes and only viewers who are able to connect Queensland with cane toads and right wing military nut jobs, Melbourne with gangland crime and dodgy police, and Sydney with anal retentives, will appreciate the farcical situations that arise.

Not nearly as gritty as 'Trainspotting' but if the bizarre lives and apathetic self discovery of that appealed to you then you'll probably appreciate 'He Died with a Felafel in His Hand' as well. Not for people who aren't prepared to accept subtlety in films.

Putting John Burningham's best-selling but episodic reminiscences of house-sharing into a watchable feature film was quite a challenge, but a veteran house-sharer, Richard Lowenstein (`Dogs in Space'), succeeds here by having several of the more interesting and bizarre characters follow the narrator (Noah Taylor) from city to city. The felafel, in fact, a throwaway line in the book, is given centre stage, and the result is a well-focused tale of the horrors of house-sharing – it's the `Secret Life of Us' meets `Romper Stomper'.

Noah Taylor is one of those actors who cannot fail if given a goofy role, and here he is perfect as Danny, the aspiring writer roughing it with a collection of druggies, minor criminals, aspiring sorceresses and actors, while trying to evade his creditors and write a prize-winning story for `Penthouse'. Allegedly irresistible to women, he fails badly with his female housemates. As one of them says, incredulously: `Have an affair with you? I'm not a masochist!'

Romane Bohringer gives another strong performance as Anya, a sort of social bomb-thrower with a taste for Druid ritual, who puts any place she joins into an uproar in no time. Then there is Taylor the mad drunk (Alex Menglet), Flip the junkie (a touching performance from Brett Stewart), Nina the terminally vain soap actor (Sophie Lee hopefully not as herself) Iain the doctrinaire socialist (Ian Hughes in Melbourne of course) and Dirk the emerging homosexual (Francis McMahon), amongst others. Some of the landlord's agents do not lack colour either eg Linal Haft's rent collector as gangster in Brisbane.

All these characters are somehow accommodated in the story, though an early peak (the great bikie party in the Brisbane house) is followed by rather a flat period in Melbourne. Once the circus reaches Sydney, however, things pick up again – perhaps it's the more effervescent air.

The tropical squalor of the first house, a battered `Queenslander,' reminded me a little of `Praise', a vastly different film in tone, but Danny is not necessarily one of life's defeated, though it seems like that sometimes. This movie has a decidedly upbeat tone; the last place might have been pretty rugged, bet there's always the hope of something more salubrious, or at least of more congenial flatmates. No doubt admirers of the book will take offence at what has been left out, but Lowenstein should be given credit for giving it a cinematic context.