The 2026 Australian Film Challenge Check In

The 2026 Australian Film Challenge Check In

We’ve just hit the halfway point of 2026, so it’s a good time to check in on the 2026 Australian Film Challenge.

For those keeping track, this is a challenge thrown out to the world to encourage folks like you and me to watch more Aussie films. There were 26 prompts for participants to watch different Aussie films, ranging from watching an Australian film in cinema to digging into a short film or exploring the many great comedies out there.

If you haven’t, dive into the prompts on the original post here:

Aussiex26: The 2026 Australian Film Challenge
As we step into a new year and in a bid to get you to open you up to more Australian films, filmmakers, and storytellers, I’m throwing you down a challenge: In 2026, I want you to watch 26 Australian films throughout the year. That’s one Aussie film

Alongside my regular viewing of Aussie films, I’ve been logging and tracking films in the challenge. Dive in to see what films I’ve been watching for the 2026 Aussie Film Challenge.

I kicked off the early hours of 2026 with a Platon Theodoris joint (prompt 13). While I’d usually be either sleeping or looking at out of focus Instagram photos and videos of Sydney fireworks on my phone while Can’t Stop the Music plays on the TV, I got a lovely message from Nitin Vengurleka alerting me to The Lonely Spirits Variety Hour screening on commercial TV. I flicked over and lost myself in this whimsical and inventive film once more.

Somehow, someway, this charming comedy has found a way to become a film that I now watch on New Years. In 2022, I rang in 2023 by introducing some friends to the film. In 2024, I rang in 2025 by reflecting on the year of writing and publishing The Lonely Spirits and the King: An Australian Film Book, a tome that features the main characters of Platon’s film on its cover. Ringing in 2026 with the film felt apt and unexpected.

As I wrote in Lonely Spirits and the King, The Lonely Spirits Variety Hour has become part of me in a manner that I simply can’t separate myself from its existence. May it forever be part of my new years journey.

With a new year comes new films. 2026 kicked off with one of the year’s finest works (prompt 2): Zak Hilditch’s We Bury the Dead, a pseudo-zombie horror film that’s more of a parable on grief and loss than it is about shocks and scares. In what has become a frustrating trend for Australian films in 2026, audience attendance was low for a film that arguably works best when surrounded by strangers who are each moved and left shaken by Daisy Ridley’s Ava and her search for closure. Hilditch pulled from the personal for this exceptional film, one that deserved a wider audience than it received. For fans of physical media, I urge you to dive into the impressive 4K release from Umbrella Entertainment here.

Horror has been one of the major genres of the year too, something that overlaps with multiple prompts. I dived back into Storm Warning (prompt 20), a film which I don’t particularly like and didn’t have my opinion changed all that much on my third rewatch but felt a need to revisit it after the passing of Jamie Blanks. This viewing was paired with a listen to the Umbrella commentary track with Blanks and writer Everett DeRoche, alongside many other creatives on the film. It’s a neat track that highlights just how much Blanks enjoyed the horror genre. It also made me appreciate how Blanks transferred the experiences he had making Urban Legend (1998) and Valentine (2001) under an American system, and then applied that mindset to an Aussie film. Storm Warning has its share of fans, many of whom appreciate the gnarly and cruel violence paired with the bleak sense of humour, but even on my third spin it just doesn’t work for me.  

A bleak and violent film that has not been dulled by time is Greg McLean’s Wolf Creek. I dived into Via Vision’s 20th anniversary set (prompt 1), appreciating the extensive special features given to this searing film; one that many modern Aussie horror filmmakers are still trying to replicate. If anything, the looming cult of Mick Taylor and that laugh and lilt that John Jarratt brings to life has made the film even more unsettling and nauseating decades after its release. I hadn’t seen Wolf Creek since the mid-2000s, and delving into the unrated cut made for a sense-shocking experience that has whetted my appetite for Sean Lahiff’s upcoming Wolf Creek: Legacy.

Warwick Thornton’s The Darkside (prompt 18) is a horror film that operates on a less visceral and more subdued level. Thornton presents a collection of ghost stories from around Australia, most of them related to or told by Indigenous folks. I admired the idea of The Darkside more than its execution with the film playing out like a short story collection. Just like a short story book, some tales work more than others. Bryan Brown’s section is unnerving for its stark simplicity, with Thornton framing Brown against a backdrop of boats at docks, draped in sunlight. Brown’s got that pure Australiana vibe to him, making him a natural storyteller that has you leaning in to the screen to hear what he’s saying, hooked on every word. If there’s a reason to seek this one out (currently available on SBS On Demand), it’s to watch Brown’s short story, alongside the delightful and dark tale from Aaron Pedersen, before being left shattered by Shari Sebbens heartbreaking closing tale.

I’ve got a few more horror flicks on my dance card for 2026 that will tick off other prompts. I’m yet to catch Leviticus, so will make my way to the cinema in the coming weeks to catch that, and will also make time to see Natalie Erika James’ Saccharine in a cinema when that arrives too. I’m also looking forward to diving into the Vinegar Syndrome copy of Ross Dimsey’s Final Cut which I picked up in their recent sale.

Outside of feature length films, I’ve been thoroughly enjoying diving into the short films of various filmmakers (prompt 10). If you’ve followed the Curb for a bit, you’ll no doubt be familiar with my continued championing of the short film format, but as a shout out, I’ve really enjoyed diving into the work of Jessica Sofarnos whose short films Punctum and Good Grief have furthered my appreciation for singular voices behind films. Jess acts, writes, and directs her shorts, forging a career which is completely her own. I highly recommend diving into Jess’ work if you haven’t already.

Internal Worlds: Jessica Sofarnos on exploring life, grief, and living in Australian cinema
There’s a calm, lived-in nature to Jess Sofarnos’ films, one where she holds a mirror up to herself, reflecting emotions and experiences that are familiar and relatable, yet rarely seen in Australian cinema. Sofarnos joins her contemporaries (Kaite Fitz, Lucy Coleman, Annelise Hickey) by bringing internal experiences to

There’s also been a few Aussie comedies (prompt 9) which I’ve dived into this year. It’s been a joyous experience to be reminded that we can make great comedies; Zoe Pepper’s Birthright is as acidic and timely as they come while James Woods’ The Birthday Trip is like a Dogme 95 film by way of upper-middle class Aussie culture. But the Aussie comedy that’s surprised me the most has been the perpetual butt of many jokes and the once go-to answer as ‘the worst Australian film ever’: Marc Gracie’s You and Your Stupid Mate.

On a shit day surrounded by a migraine and body aches and pains, I said to myself ‘fuck it, let’s see how bad this day can get’, and threw on this 2005 flick. I’d had the ex-rental disc on my shelves for an age – purchased way back in the day from the Joondanna Video Ezy – and always kept it there more as a reminder of the lows that Aussie cinema can stoop to than anything else. I was one of the thirteen people who saw it in the cinema back in the early 2000s, and my memories had it set as a Gigli level experience by way of Dude, Where’s My Car?, but the reality is that it’s quite charming and rather innocent too.

Nathan Phillips’ Philip and Angus Sampson’s Jeffrey are devout fans of Sons and Surf, a Home & Away style soapie, which is unfairly cancelled. The DVD cover features a low-cut top wearing Rachel Hunter with Phillips and Sampson beneath her, suggesting that they’re two blokes obsessed with boobs and beer, but with the recent murder of Neigbours in my mind, I watched You and Your Stupid Mate with a smile on my mug: here are two Aussie blokes getting behind Aussie TV in a way that’s not lecherous or creepy. They just love Sons and Surf to bits.

Look, You and Your Stupid Mate isn’t revolutionary, but it did make me smile and lift my spirits in what’s been an otherwise shithouse year, and that’s really as much as I can ask for. It’s an unapologetically Aussie comedy that adores our eccentricities and quirks, never belittling or exoticising our ockerisms. If anything, it’s a quietly affectionate ode to the early-2000s Aussie slacker mindset. I’ll hold back from calling the film a neglected classic or a lost gem that needs wide rediscovery, but I will push for it to be reconsidered as ‘less shit than what you remember it to be.’

Another thing that’s been lifting my spirits is how bloody well the Fremantle Dockers have been going in the AFL this year. My film viewing has taken a long spell on the bench as I’ve devoured footy games en masse, even diving into games that I might have skipped otherwise (I’ve watched far too many Collingwood games than I might otherwise care to; here’s to a safe recovery Darcy Moore). On a film-focused front, I’ve also thoroughly enjoyed watching the many different AFL documentaries that have emerged over the years, some more sanitised or corporate than others. The Brisbane Lions headed into 2026 aiming for a premiership threepeat, and given the Brisbane Bears were my foundational team that I supported, I’ve enjoyed watching the documentaries put out about their premiership seasons (prompt 7).

Run Towards the Fire follows their 2025 premiership journey, a genuinely exhilarating piece, even as it momentarily touches on devastating losses like Freo’s late-season stumble which came with the announcement of Nat Fyfe’s retirement. My heart still breaks for the great number 7, Freo’s finest player who has never been able to win a premiership. Its interest is in seeing how the team gets together behind arguably one of the finest coaches the AFL has ever seen: Chris Fagan. Easily one of the nicest coaches in footy, Fages is the kind of figure you can get behind, and when you get behind him, you get behind the team. I’m not converting back to being a Brisbane fan by any measure, not while Freo aim for a deep September run this year, but I do enjoy seeing their continued success play out. Again, these ‘docos’ are a bit disposable, but they do invite a welcome insight into the behind the scenes world of footy.

I’ve still got a swag full of films to watch as I work through the 2026 Aussie Film Challenge and some excellent opportunities to watch Aussie films in a cinema too. I’m particularly keen to catch some of the Aussie films screening at The Revival House here in Perth in July; a double feature of The Piano and Lantana is just what I need, while I’m also toying with the idea of watching Two Hands in a cinema once more.

I want to quickly shout out someone who proudly supports Aussie films through their own annual challenges: JanuAussie (find them on Facebook or Letterboxd). Their annual dives into Aussie films is always a delight to follow, and it’s great to have them ticking off their own #Aussiex26 entries. With six months of 2026 to go, there’s still plenty of time to jump on board and watch Aussie films. I’ll be back at the end of the year with a full rundown of all of the films I watched during the challenge.

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