North of the border, BIFF has really mixed it up this year, kicking off proceedings with two nights of film prior to the official opening. The Curtain Raisers included recent release and popular paranoia flick Take Shelter, filmmaker Jafar Panahi's autobiographical documentary This is Not a Film, as well as Gus Van Sant's latest indie treasure Restless, and legendary documentarian Errol Morris' tale of love gone wrong, Tabloid. As was the intention, Tabloid and Restless certainly did whet my appetite for the rest of the cinematic palate BIFF has on offer this year.

The Opening Night film for BIFF 2011 was of course, Attack the Block, the first feature effort from British writer-director, Joe Cornish—a film more Misfits than E.T in its focus, Brisvegans responded hungrily to the Opening Night invitation, pulling a crowd in excess of 800 according to BIFF Marketing Manager, Sarah Ward. Rarely a city for posturing or pretention, guests were treated to a glass of bubbly on arrival before settling in for the film. The after-party at the Barracks treated punters to a BMX and blading display, bolstered by a pumping Rap and R&B soundtrack reminiscent to the music heard throughout the film. BIFF 2011 is indeed off to a cracking start, easing punters in to what looks to be a fun-filled, film-heavy 11 days.

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MIFF closing night was held on the night before the last day of screenings, supposedly to soften the last day blow to cinephiles. Kind of like the methadone program for fully strapped-in cinema junkies. And just like methadone, closing night turned out to be even more addictive than the real thing. Nicolas Winding Refn's (Bronson, Pusher Trilogy) moody, gorgeous Drive replaced Red Dog as the movie to end (almost) all movies at MIFF 2011, and there could hardly have been a better choice.

A loner stunt car driver, part time getaway driver and mechanic (Ryan Gosling) meets Irene (Carey Mulligan) and her young son when they move into the same apartment block; similarly quiet souls, the two connect. When Irene's husband returns from prison and brings trouble with him, the honourable driver lends a hand. Things go very wrong. People get smashed up.

Mulligan is certainly well into her swift ascendance as a leading lady with depth, and Drive is simply more of the same. Ron Perlman is so perfect for his role that he got a kudos laugh upon appearance. Bryan Cranston (Breaking Bad) does the slightly seedy talent manager like I don't remember seeing it done before.

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It's not often that I need time to process a film. Usually, my incessant mind-critic doesn't even have to wait until the movie is over before it has given me a list of the pros and cons, the downfalls, the most captivating moments - it makes it hard to just enjoy. Tonight, I had some idea that it would be different - I hadn't seen a film by Lars Von Trier (Dogville, Antichrist, Breaking The Waves, Dancer In The Dark, Zentropa). The notion of gratuitous sex and misogyny is rarely appealing to me, and because I think sex should be intimate, safe and private, it meant that I wasn't willing to patronise the man who led to porn being legalised in an entire country. But judgments you make without experience are only rarely acceptable, and so I was with a friend when I saw Melancholia. The end of the world? That, I can handle.

How to begin? It might have been the anticipation that made my skin feel cold in the opening sequences, the experience of which had more in common with being in an art gallery in which long-forgotten Dali paintings were coming to life, to music sinister enough to make your ears bleed, than being in a cinema. It's full throttle, dark, unavoidable emotion from the word go. And truthfully, from the first moment until the moment the credits rolled, I was not aware that the cinema was where I was.

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"Most people think of themselves as individuals, that there is no one on the planet like them. This thought motivates them to get out of bed, eat food and walk around like nothing is wrong," opines Oliver Tate (Jane Eyre's Craig Roberts). Oliver, too, thinks of himself as an individual. The 15 year-old often daydreams about how respected he is by his classmates: he is not. He also considers that the female students might be devastated if he died unexpectedly: they would not. He also sees himself as a visionary, and thinks he may become a great artist: again, this may not be exactly true. Oliver, in fact, is close to an unreliable narrator, whose many proclamations are - if not false - then certainly exaggerated, including his sentimentalised relationship with the standoffish Jordana Bevan (Yasmine Paige) and his possessive attempts to prevent his mother (Sally Hawkins) from cheating on his father (Noah Taylor).   

Since its successful debut at the Toronto Film Festival last year, Richard Ayoade's Submarine has earned deserved plaudits for its delicate emotional intensity and cinematic literacy. Based on the 2008 novel by Joe Dunthorne (who also serves as a script supervisor), this sublime film debut is a remarkable achievement, a coming-of-age comedy/drama made with a technical assurance and comic invention uncommon for this subgenre. The film's tone - part American, French and British - is subtle and expressionistic, simultaeously capturing - and comically undermining - Oliver's adolescent naïvety and zeal. Given that it is the first film from actor Ayoade - previously best known for sincere, but oddball turns on The I.T. Crowd and The Mighty Boosh - the accomplishment is all the more satisfying.   

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The term 'Route Irish' refers to the Baghdad Airport Road, which is the 12km stretch between the Allied Forces' Green Zone and the nearest Iraqi airport. Considered one of the most dangerous areas in the world, Route Irish is often attacked by terrorists, given the Allies' vulnerability outside of the Green Zone: from 2003-mid 2005, there were 14 car bombs, 48 roadside bombs and 80 small arm-attacks on the road, leading to 16 people being killed. 

In Ken Loach's Route Irish, the road's instability and danger is significant - literally and metaphorically - to his charged Iraq War drama. Former SAS soldier Fergus (Mark Womack) is emotionally damaged by his experiences in Iraq. Rather than turn away from the conflict, though, he joins a private security firm, convincing childhood friend Frankie (John Bishop) to join him. After Frankie is killed on the Route Irish, Fergus questions his company's version of events, especially when he is given handheld footage of the team's murder of Iraqi citizens.

Loach is one of the few international filmmakers unafraid to tackle difficult subject matter (Ireland in The Wind That Shakes the Barely, lower class alcoholism in My Name is Joe) and question authority figures, consistently pointing the finger at British politicians unconcerned with the struggles of the working class. Loach, for instance, is one of the few Western filmmakers genuinely interested in the struggles of the Iraqi people. In contrast to other Western films like Kimberly Peirce's Stop-Loss - in which the deaths of Iraqis serve to push Ryan Phillippe's grunt into cynicism against his Government - Route Irish centres the story on this victimisation. For Loach, the Iraqis are important as well, to the extent that he gives a key subplot to Harim (Talib Rasool), an Iraqi expat who questions the motivations to Fergus: significantly, Harim is present when Fergus' attempts to reach catharsis are thwarted by an Iraqi victim. 

The ABC's ambitious (read: expensive) miniseries The Slap is one of the more impressive Australian programmes of recent times. An eight-part adaptation of the Christos Tsiolkas novel, the miniseries is a surprisingly frank and edgy depiction of Australian suburbia. Unlike the faux naturalism of other programmes, The Slap delves into truly uncomfortable social and racial territory, unafraid to tackle the novel's concerns of sex, violence, drug use and class prejudice.   

At a party for his cousin Hector's 40^th birthday, Harry (Alex Dimitriades) loses his temper with another couple's child. After Hugo's parents refuse to reprimand the troubled four year-old - and he continues to misbehave, swinging a cricket bat at the other children - Harry slaps the child. This act of discipline/abuse causes the child's parents Gary (Anthony Hayes) and Rosie (Melissa George) to press charges against Harry, and pushes others - including Hector's wife Aisha (Sophie Okonedo), her friend Anouk (Essie Davis) and Harry's wife Sandi (Dianna Glenn) - to comment on the event, as well. 

At MIFF, the ABC presented the first two episodes of the program - both handled by TV director Jessica Hobbs (Rake, Spirited) - but it is clear that The Slap is closer to the inventive storytelling of overseas programming than any Australian series of recent memory. Certainly, Tony Ayres - a co-producer of the entire series and director of two episodes - compares the series to the superior American television of American cable networks AMC and HBO. The contrast with The Sopranos and Mad Men is more indicative of the series' ambitions than its form or content: certainly, a more apt comparison - in terms of structure, at least - is Jimmy McGovern's excellent serial The Street.

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MIFF is awesome, but sometimes you wonder about your mental health. Waiting for a train at Ringwood station, Melbourne - which, for sure, gets its fair share of Hollywood A-listers... mostly lining up outside the Ringwood RSL - I could have sworn I saw Robert Pattinson (Twilight), and Ben Foster (The Messenger), who starred in the 2011 MIFF film, Here. Now, the men aren't in the country. Three options: either there's a looky-likie convention in town, I've had some sort of aneurysm, or I just missed out on three huge interviews and therefore should never be allowed to write again. And I can't live with any of those options.

But moving on - tonight was an interesting one. I was going to watch television at the movies. The Slap should not really be playing at the Melbourne International Film Festival - it's kind of a usurper. Or so thought my friend Kat who, with a bottomless knowledge of everything film and a MIFF supporter, was insulted by the inclusion of the upcoming television release, based on the novel by Christos Tsiolkas. "It's a waste of a slot, I think. But what do I know - it sold out really quickly," she sighed.

Indeed, it was harder to find a single seat at The Slap than in any other screening of the Festival. There were four rows of seats reserved for the special people where there is usually just one. There were more of those camera flash umbrella things in the foyer, and a lot more of the thin, well dressed people. The television-ites seemed to have brought an entourage of importance along for the ride. I'm not sure that it was a good idea. What followed was embarrassing.

Over ten years ago, two of Britain's most critically acclaimed actors - Gary Oldman (Sid and Nancy, J.F.K.) and Tim Roth (Reservoir Dogs, Rob Roy) - made their respective directorial debuts with two chilling depictions of domestic abuse: Oldman's Nil by Mouth and Roth's The War Zone. More than one critic made comparisons between the two filmmakers. After all, the two actors were long-time friends: they auditioned for many of the same roles in the '80s and co-starred in Tom Stoppard's modernist Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead among others. Both men also cast Ray Winstone in their leads, effectively kick-starting his international career for the then-unknown cockney actor. Yet - despite the international acclaim of their very personal portraits of Britain - Oldman and Roth have not made any follow-ups, as both men found it very difficult to find financing for their challenging projects. 

 The similarly acclaimed Paddy Considine, too, has opted to make his directorial debut with a realist drama about domestic violence, Tyrannosaur. Like the work of the earlier actor-directors, Tyrannosaur is also extremely challenging and - in its unsentimental depiction of child abuse, animal cruelty and spousal violence - may lead to some walkouts due to its emotional intensity.

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Here is a quiet film. That might sound like a nothing comment when made in relation to the contemplative, often silent common thread that envelops the international section of a film festival, but Here is even quieter still. Will Shepard (Ben Foster, The Messenger) is a modern form of cartographer, searching for truth in landscape as he attempts to pin satellite images to their corresponding places on the world. Shepard is working in Armenia, where he doesn't speak the language and doesn't try in a very American kind of way, when he meets Gadarine, played by Lubna Azabel (Paradise Now), an Armenian native whose talent has taken her across the world as a photographer, and brought her back to search for a different truth. The two travel together and form a bond.

The film is a strong mix of experimental visual sequences and simple traditional filmmaking. The themes of journey and truth are universal, whilst being completely unique. The film feels more like a novel than a movie, with the use of voiceover 'chapters' that could be the corresponding opening paragraphs of a book. And yet the film does not feel out of place, but restful.

Foster is truly good. The way he manages to show such a sea of tightly wound emotions beneath a flesh surface that gives nothing away, is beyond me, and makes his subtle breakdown believable to the point of scary (true enough to life to remind me of a particular ex-boyfriend) - and yet he remains likeable throughout. Azabel is similarly wonderful, never overplaying what could have been a tricky role.

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Khoa Do (Mother Fish, The Finished People, Footy Legends) wasn't Young Australian of the Year for nothing. Do has spent much of his life tutoring young people, with a focus on those from disadvantaged backgrounds, and Falling for Sahara is no exception. The script was written in consultation with young African Australians (Teklay Gebreslassie, Nathanael Kebede, Daniel Haile Michael, Solomon Salew, Maki Issa) who were given the chance not only to get a taste for dialogue, but a couple of whom star in the film. Falling for Sahara was produced in part with money from the MIFF Premiere fund.

Falling for Sahara is the story of three young African Australians, Ramsey, M.J. and Benaim, living in the council flats in Flemington, Melbourne, all of whom have their distinct issues to deal with. When Sahara, an eastern suburbs Melbourne Grammar graduate comes on the scene, all three boys are enchanted. Jealousy, rivalry and the complications of life and culture get in the way.

This is a film that needs to be critiqued within its context. Do says that it is the first film to be made about African Australians, and the territory is new. It is also a film for young adults, whether or not it was intended to be. It covers issues of racism, immigration and cultural conflict well. The film is beautifully shot, for the most part, and is very Melbourne. Particular highlights include a realistic storyline following Ramsey's training with an Aussie rules team (the Essendon Football Club supported the film). The film is charming.