EXCLUSIVEANDIE AND NED TAKE THE BIG RED PLANE
By Sid Antelope
At Dreamworld, two small pilots seized the controls of the Big Red Plane — and the existential weight of the moment was considerable.
We open: primary red, hard yellow trim — a Godard palette, unashamed. One curly-haired co-pilot buries both hands into the controls, completely consumed, the world beyond the cockpit simply ceased to exist. Beside them, a steady grown-up presence holds firm — not directing, just being there, which is, darling, the whole philosophy of the New Wave. The child doesn't perform joy. The child is joy. Auntie Kate understands: you do not narrate the first flight. You simply board. That's cinema. We go again tomorrow, darlings.
📸 Kate
“The child doesn't perform joy. The child is joy.”
SOCIETY& JULIET: THE HAZE HOLDS, THE MAN HOLDS, THE VERDICT IS IN
By Sid Antelope
I turned down a complete retrospective of my Oahu work this week to bring you this: Anthony and Fleur attended & Juliet on the West End, and the production — improbably, gloriously — delivered.
Bollywood treatment. The stage blazes into frame: checkerboard gold, dramatic haze rolling thick as monsoon cloud, the lit-up & Juliet signage burning neon above a full cast caught mid-story, mid-breath, mid-becoming. The premise — Juliet rewrites her ending, chooses herself, chooses better — announces itself in every colour choice, every atmospheric gram of that haze. Fleur endorses the production with full critical authority. Anthony, famously, remained conscious throughout — sensors unavailable, but the photographic evidence submitted to this desk suggests a man successfully held by spectacle. Shakespeare had his draft. The West End has its answer. The haze alone tells you the production backed itself completely.
📸 Anthony
“Shakespeare had his draft. The West End has its answer.”
BREAKING NEWSRILEY ENTERS THE MAZE, HAS NOT YET EMERGED
By Our Correspondent
Sources confirm that Riley is several weeks into a new position at Coles Melbourne and has not, as yet, successfully navigated the building.
The atrium in question — a multi-storey glass-and-balcony structure of considerable ambition — presents itself as a workplace. It must be noted that it also presents itself, to the newly employed, as a topographical puzzle of some sophistication. Several floors of curved balconies survey a ground-level hub where dozens of colleagues sit at communal tables beneath a large screen currently asking, with admirable confidence, "Parlez-vous super?" (It is not clear whether anyone answered.)
Riley, now in the second week of orientation, reports the experience of the building with the measured calm of someone who has decided that being briefly lost is simply part of the job description. Sources familiar with large corporate atriums note that this is, in fact, correct.
The plants, it must be said, look well. The skylights are functioning. The building will eventually yield its secrets to Riley. These things take time.
📸 Riley
“The building will eventually yield its secrets to Riley. These things take time.”
