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Movies to see this week: 'The Birdcage,' 'Carnival of Souls,' 'Friday the 13th'
Movies to see this week: 'The Birdcage,' 'Carnival of Souls,' 'Friday the 13th'

Yahoo

time12-06-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Yahoo

Movies to see this week: 'The Birdcage,' 'Carnival of Souls,' 'Friday the 13th'

Movies to see this week: 'The Birdcage,' 'Carnival of Souls,' 'Friday the 13th' originally appeared on Bring Me The News. Pride Month has proven to be a fruitful impetus for theaters to put some excellent movies back on screens. There are familiar classics like The Birdcage and The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, but also some that deserve to have their merits sung more frequently, including Happy Together and Inappropriate Behavior. Here's more on those and many other movies that you can see around the Twin Cities this week. June 11–12, 14–15, and 18 at Alamo Drafthouse and June 12–15 at AMC Inver Grove and AMC Southdale Dogma is a beloved but (until now) hard-to-see movie in the catalog of Kevin Smith. It had been caught in limbo through a winding series of events that involved producer Harvey Weinstein, who eventually sold off the rights. While the film had a DVD release at one point, it hasn't been in theaters or on streaming, so it's been a big return for the movie that stars Matt Damon and Ben Affleck as a pair of fallen angels who've found a loophole that could get them back into heaven. Bethany (Linda Fiorentino) is tasked by a surly angel (Alan Rickman) to stop their inglorious return. She's given a pair of "prophets" in the form of Jay and Silent Bob (Smith and Jason Mewes), and a litany of cameos that includes Chris Rock, George Carlin, Alanis Morissette, Janeane Garofalo, Salma Hayek, and Jason Lee. Various theaters Thursday, June 12, at Grandview Theatres Director Wong Kar-Wai's Palme d'Or-nominated drama follows two men (Leslie Cheung and Tony Leung Chiu-wai) on a trip to Argentina, where they're isolated from their home in Hong Kong. Their love is tested as they begin to drift apart. Traumatic experiences elicit empathy but not a rekindling of passion as they navigate the shifting sands of their relationship. It's a beautifully shot exploration of the mysteries of love, well-trod territory — both love and beautiful cinematography — for Wong. 1830 Grand Ave., St. Paul ($14.44) Thursday, June 12, at St. Michael Cinema and Friday, June 13 at Alamo Drafthouse and AMC Inver Grove Friday the 13th on Friday the 13th? That's an easy yes. Three Twin Cities theaters will play the movie that started the world of Jason this week. (Though, one chose to play it the night before Friday the 13th for whatever reason.) It may have lost some of its original spark simply for being so imitated, but it remains a classic slasher movie, even if, at this point, everyone knows who the killer is. Various theaters Sunday, June 15, at Emagine Willow Creek Taking place simultaneously in the present, where Shirin (played by writer and director Desiree Akhavan) is reeling from a breakup with her girlfriend, and in snippets from their relationship, particularly moments when she hides her bisexuality from her Persian parents, Appropriate Behavior is a darkly comic dive into how identities are built, maintained, and spurned. Shirin can't seem to settle herself into any single identity — or at least not into the identities that others seem to want for her. She struggles to be the perfect daughter, a politically correct partner to her activist girlfriend, or even to find what her own sexuality means to herself. Akhavan has a knack for finding the awkward moments that not only offer cringe-inducing laughs, but where characters unintentionally reveal themselves. 9900 Shelard Pkwy., Plymouth ($11.60) The Birdcage (1996) Sunday, June 15, at Alamo Drafthouse and Tuesday, June 17 at The Parkway Theater Pride Month series at the Alamo and The Parkway have dropped this classic Nathan Lane and Robin Williams comedy into the lineup this month. (Though, The Parkway's screening has the added bonus of pre-movie burlesque.) Lane and Williams are absolutely fantastic as a team, and it's a shame they didn't get a run like Walter Mathau and Jack Lemmon or William Powell and Myrna Loy. They star as the cabaret owner and drag queen who have to put up a straight-laced front when their son (Dan Futterman) gets engaged to the daughter of a Senator and co-founder of the Committee for Moral Order (Gene Hackman). It's a lot of chaotic humor that is also played with heartening compassion. Various theaters Tuesday, June 17, at Alamo Drafthouse After her car is forced off a bridge and she miraculously survives, Mary (Candace Hilligoss) leaves town to become a church organist. However, she begins seeing a man no one else can see and feels an irresistible pull toward an abandoned carnival. As her reality unravels, the tension builds slowly with incredibly beautiful cinematography that has influenced generations of filmmakers. 9060 Hudson Rd., Woodbury ($11.91)More movies playing in the Twin Cities this week: June 11: Past Lives (2023) at AMC Southdale June 11 and 22: Dinner in America (2020) at Grandview Theatres June 11–12: The Wild Robot (2024) at St. Michael Cinema June 11: Brokeback Mountain (2005) at Alamo Drafthouse June 11–12: Despicable Me 4 (2024) at Oakdale Cinema, Parkwood Cinema, Rosemount Cinema, Southbridge Crossing Cinema, and West End Cinema June 11–14: The Land Before Time (1988) at Riverview Theater June 11–12: The Bad Guys (2022) at B&B Theatres Mall of America June 11–12, 14–15, and 18: Dogma (1999) at Alamo Drafthouse June 11: Mysterious Skin (2005) at The Trylon Cinema June 11: Bride of Chucky (1998) at Alamo Drafthouse June 11: Happy Together (1997) at Mann Edina Theatres June 11: The Panic in Needle Park (1971) at The Trylon Cinema June 11: Twilight (2008) at The Commons in Minneapolis (free) June 11: Twilight (2008) at Emagine Eagan, Emagine Lakeville, Emagine White Bear, and Emagine Willow Creek June 12–15: Dogma (1999) at AMC Southdale and AMC Inver Grove (not June 12) June 12: Friday the 13th (1980) at St. Michael Cinema June 12: Happy Together (1997) at Grandview Theatres June 12: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) at North Loop Green (free) June 12: Moana 2 (2024) for Starlight Cinema at Ojibway Park in Woodbury (free) June 12: The Virgin Spring (1960) at The Trylon Cinema June 12: Scanners (1981) at Emagine Willow Creek June 12: Wonka (2023) at Victory Memorial Drive in Minneapolis (free) June 12: The Out-of-Towners (1970) at Heights Theater June 13: Friday the 13th (1980) at Alamo Drafthouse and AMC Inver Grove June 13: A Disaster at Walker Art Center June 13–17: Star Wars (1977) at The Trylon Cinema June 13–14: My Neighbor Totoro (1988) at Riverview Theater June 13: Inside Out 2 (2024) at The Oval in Roseville (free) June 13: Moana 2 (2024) at Pioneer Park in Monticello (free) June 14: The Last Wave (1977) at Walker Art Center June 14: Moana 2 (2024) at Polar Lakes Park in White Bear Township (free) June 14: Assembly (2025) at The Main Cinema, part of the Cinema Club and Images of Africa series June 14–15: Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) at Emagine Eagan, Emagine Lakeville, Emagine White Bear, and Emagine Willow Creek June 14–15 and 18: Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989) at AMC Inver Grove, AMC Southdale, Emagine Eagan, Emagine East Bethel, Emagine Lakeville, Emagine White Bear, Emagine Willow Creek, Oakdale Cinema, Parkwood Cinema, Rosemount Cinema, St. Michael Cinema, Southbridge Crossing Cinema, and West End Cinema June 14–19: The Bad Guys (2022) at St. Michael Cinema June 15: The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994) at Roxy's Cabaret June 15: The Birdcage (1996) at Alamo Drafthouse June 15: Appropriate Behavior (2014) at Emagine Willow Creek June 15–19: Harold and the Purple Crayon (2024) at Oakdale Cinema, Parkwood Cinema, Rosemount Cinema, Southbridge Crossing Cinema, and West End Cinema June 15 and 19: Carol (2015) at Grandview Theatres June 16–21: Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (2022) at Riverview Theater June 16: Cool Runnings (1993) at Sumner Field Park in Minneapolis (free) June 16–18: The Garfield Movie (2024) at Alamo Drafthouse June 16 and 18: Kung Fu Panda 4 (2024) at Mann Edina Theatres June 16: The Wizard of Oz (1939) at Heights Theater (sold out) June 16: Showgirls (1995) at Alamo Drafthouse June 16: Knife + Heart (2018) at Alamo Drafthouse June 16: Waxwork (1988) at Emagine Willow Creek June 17: The Birdcage (1996) at The Parkway Theater June 17: IF (2024) at St. Anthony Park in Minneapolis (free) June 17–19: Sonic the Hedgehog (2020) at CMX Odyssey Burnsville June 17–19: The Garfield Movie (2024) at B&B Theatres Mall of America June 17: Carnival of Souls (1962) at Alamo DrafthouseThis story was originally reported by Bring Me The News on Jun 12, 2025, where it first appeared.

Steven Flynn, Former Gramercy Pictures and Focus Features Marketing Executive, Dies at 70
Steven Flynn, Former Gramercy Pictures and Focus Features Marketing Executive, Dies at 70

Yahoo

time06-06-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Yahoo

Steven Flynn, Former Gramercy Pictures and Focus Features Marketing Executive, Dies at 70

Steven Flynn, a marketing executive who worked for Gramercy Pictures and Focus Features, among many other companies, died May 23 at Providence Saint John's Health Center after a four-year battle with renal cancer, his family announced. He was 70. Flynn was instrumental in the marketing of such notable films as Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994), The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994), The Usual Suspects (1995), Dead Man Walking (1995), Fargo (1996), The Big Lebowski (1998), Being John Malkovich (1999), Traffic (2000), Gosford Park (2001), The Revenant (2015), Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019). More from The Hollywood Reporter Joanne Gilbert, 'The Great Man' and 'High Cost of Loving' Actress, Dies at 92 Renée Victor, Voice of Abuelita in 'Coco,' Dies at 86 Devin Harjes, 'Boardwalk Empire,' 'Daredevil' and 'Gotham' Actor, Dies at 41 In September 1993, Gramercy president Russell Schwartz hired Flynn as senior vp marketing at the recently launched label, a joint venture of PolyGram Filmed Entertainment and Universal Pictures. He stayed on as Gramercy merged with October Films in 1999 to become USA Films and USA combined with Good Machine in 2001 to create Focus Features, where he rose to executive vp marketing through 2007. He then served as a marketing consultant for Vivendi Entertainment, National Geographic, 42 West, 20th Century Fox, Focus and Sony Pictures Entertainment. 'Steven was my first hire at Gramercy Pictures and quickly showed himself to be the most optimistic and problem-solving marketing executive I ever met,' Schwartz said in a statement. 'Under his supervision, he handled everything marketing-related and even organized the entire front and back office during Gramercy's early days. 'Gramercy was the closest company to Camelot that many of us had ever worked at, and Steven's presence was a big part of it. It's no wonder his email address is mrmovies@ Raised in Fenton, Michigan, Steven Francis Flynn graduated from Fenton High School in 1972 and attended the University of Michigan, where he studied electrical engineering. On the side, he worked as a manager at a movie theater in Ann Arbor. In 1977, he coordinated a televised college football halftime show that featured Star Wars during its original theatrical run and caught the attention of Salah M. Hassanein, then-president of UA Theaters' Eastern Division. Hassanein summoned him to New York and hired him. Flynn advanced to senior vp advertising at the UA division through 1990, when he moved to Orion Pictures as vp field publicity and promotions/exhibitor relations. He marketed many of that upstart company's films, including the best picture Oscar winners Dances With Wolves (1990) and The Silence of the Lambs (1991). In 1992, Flynn relocated to Los Angeles to launch Edge Marketing before landing at Gramercy. Four years later, he joined the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Survivors include his partner of 43 years, Timothy; sisters Linda and Patricia; niece Shelby; and nephews Jeff and Sean. A graveside service and memorial is set for June 20 in Flint, Michigan, with an additional life celebration to be held layer in the Los Angeles area. Contributions in his memory may be made to the Motion Picture & Television Fund. Best of The Hollywood Reporter 13 of Tom Cruise's Most Jaw-Dropping Stunts Hollywood Stars Who Are One Award Away From an EGOT 'The Goonies' Cast, Then and Now

Kimpton Maa-Lai Bangkok rolls out the rainbow carpet for Pride Film Festival
Kimpton Maa-Lai Bangkok rolls out the rainbow carpet for Pride Film Festival

Time Out

time06-06-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Time Out

Kimpton Maa-Lai Bangkok rolls out the rainbow carpet for Pride Film Festival

Pride is in full bloom this month, with celebrations lighting up every corner of Bangkok in a dazzling display of colour, love and unity. And Kimpton Maa-Lai Bangkok isn't sitting this one out. For the fifth year in a row, the hotel is rolling out the rainbow carpet with its Pride Film Festival – an annual tribute to every shade of love, every voice and the power of storytelling to inspire change. Happening on June 13-14, this two-day queer cinema event brings together four award-winning flicks that shine a light on LGBTQ+ lives, love and everything in between. In partnership with the Australian Embassy in Thailand, the lineup features powerful stories from Thailand and around the world. Each one is chosen to spark conversation and connection. All films have English subtitles. Here's what's playing: Malila: The Farewell Flower – June 13, 7pmAn intimate Thai drama exploring queer love, grief, and spirituality through the story of two former lovers reconnecting. The Miseducation of Cameron Post – 14 June, 3pmA poignant coming-of-age film about a teen girl sent to a conversion therapy centre, where she discovers friendship and self-worth. God's Own Country – 14 June, 5pmA raw and tender British romance between a young Yorkshire farmer and a Romanian migrant worker. The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert – 14 June, 7.30pmA glittering cult classic that follows two drag queens and a trans woman on a road trip across the Australian outback, serving looks, laughs and liberation. To make the experience even more intimate and welcoming, all screenings will be held at the cosy Maa-Lai Library on the 30th floor with free entry for those who reserve here in advance. Come as you are and settle in with stunning skyline views, signature snacks and drinks available for purchase. Seats are limited and available on a first-come, first-served basis. And the extravaganza doesn't stop there. On June 14 from 5pm 'til late, the party climbs to new heights at with 'Proud & Loud: Queen of the Desert'. This sky-high soiree on the 40th floor turns up the fabulous with a night of unapologetic joy, fierce drag and rainbow realness. Get ready for electrifying solo sets by iconic drag queens Meannie Minaj, ZEPEE and Kandy Zyanide at 9.45pm onwards. Each will bring their own flair before coming together for a grand finale inspired by The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Come loud, come proud and come ready to slay.

Robert Irwin—shirtless & with a snake around his neck—revealed as 'DWTS' contestant
Robert Irwin—shirtless & with a snake around his neck—revealed as 'DWTS' contestant

Yahoo

time23-04-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Yahoo

Robert Irwin—shirtless & with a snake around his neck—revealed as 'DWTS' contestant

The first celebrity announced as a competitor for Dancing With the Stars season 34 is none other than Australian heartthrob Robert Irwin — who walked into a press event fully shirtless, with a snake around his neck (à la Britney Spears at the VMAs), and a nod to the 1994 Australian queer film The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Sign up for the to keep up with what's new in LGBTQ+ culture and entertainment — delivered three times a week straight (well…) to your inbox! The 21-year-old son of the late Steve Irwin — otherwise known as the "Crocodile Hunter" — has been making headlines lately for his steamy underwear campaigns. Now, the Australian bombshell is entering the ballroom and making a huge splash with an announcement that already had him shirtless and playing with snakes. On Tuesday, April 22, Hulu hosted an event called Get Real House to preview some of its programming in the reality TV genre. DWTS cohosts Julianne Hough and Alfonso Ribeiro, along with mainstay judge Derek Hough, revealed Irwin as the first contestant joining season 34 of the long-running dance competition series. In a series of Instagram stories, the Hough siblings excitedly welcomed Irwin into the DWTS universe as he walked around shirtless, in full control of the snake around his neck, and casually revealing that the snake was named Priscilla — which immediately connected the dots to The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, an Australian queer classic film from 1994. In subsequent videos, Julianne Hough had the snake around her neck and served the full Britney Spears performing "I'm a Slave 4 U" at the 2001 VMAs fantasy as Irwin stuck around to make sure that everything was going smoothly between Priscilla and Jules. Derek Hough then tugged at everyone's heartstrings by sharing nostalgic videos of Robert's sister, Bindi Irwin, who competed on DWTS season 21 back in 2015. Derek, who was Bindi's pro dancing partner during that season, went on to win the Mirrorball Trophy right by her side. "10 years in the making," Derek Hough wrote over one of the videos via Instagram stories. There we have it: Robert Irwin is officially entering the DWTS ballroom very soon. season 34 is coming soon to , Hulu, and ABC.

Heard about The Ghan, Australia's famous train? Try The Indian Pacific instead
Heard about The Ghan, Australia's famous train? Try The Indian Pacific instead

Yahoo

time03-04-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Yahoo

Heard about The Ghan, Australia's famous train? Try The Indian Pacific instead

This article was produced by National Geographic Traveller (UK). Three hours: that's how long it takes Shelita Buffet to get ready. There are false eyelashes to glue and cheekbones to contour; there's a neon-bright wig to preen and a sequined pink leotard to tug on — and then there's the generous application of glitter to beard. Looking this good takes time. The first honeyed rays of dawn have only just begun to wash into the mining town of Broken Hill and Shelita is standing on the station platform in a pair of blocky white heels, watching as I step off the train. I'd boarded in Sydney the day before, leaving behind the skyscrapers and the Opera House's monumental clutch of alabaster shells to make tracks on a journey of continental proportions, rattling east to west across the bottom of Australia aboard the Indian Pacific. It's a journey of 2,704 miles in all from Sydney to Perth, roughly equivalent to travelling from London to Moscow and halfway back over the course of three days. Around the midway point we'll pass through the Nullarbor Plain — a landscape so arid it was once described by Victorian explorer Edward John Eyre as 'the sort of place one gets into in bad dreams'. Broken Hill is one of the stops en route, a remote town 300 miles northeast of Adelaide — in what undoubtedly qualifies as the middle of nowhere. Many might assume that this outback outpost may not be the most progressive place, given the traditional reputation that back-of-beyond country towns generally have. But drag queens like Shelita have long reigned here. At least, they have since the 1990s, when original royalty Mitzi, Bernadette and Felicia first rolled in on their clapped-out bus, en route through the outback to perform in Alice Springs. Shelita is a local and tells me she remembers when the cult classic Australian film The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert came out. She was seven, and many of her parents' friends appeared in it as extras. 'At that time, I had no idea what a drag queen even was,' she says, as we embark on a tour of the town. 'It wasn't until my teenage years that I realised what the movie was about.' Silver was discovered nearby in 1885, and many of the road names in Broken Hill now take their inspiration from the elements: there's Cobalt Street, Crystal Lane, Sulphide Street. As we reach Argent Street's broad avenue, the only sign of life this early in the morning comes from a tree dotted with squawking, white tufts — cockatoos. We pause opposite The Palace Hotel, where an ornate balcony wraps around the second of its three floors in a melange of heritage iron lacework worthy of an Old West saloon. Built originally as a 'coffee palace' in 1889 for the then-princely sum of £12,190, to provide a teetotal alternative to the alcohol-fuelled hotels, it's now known for its collection of maximalist 1980s-era murals that featured heavily in the film — among them an unconvincing reproduction of Botticelli's Birth of Venus. 'It's an iconic building as the home of Priscilla,' Shelita says, placing one manicured hand on her hip, as we take it in from the shade of a shop's domed veranda, the sun now beginning to heat the dry air. At the town's peak in 1915, around 35,000 people lived in Broken Hill. Today, it's a rather sleepier place: old train carriages gently decay in station yards; a lone man in overalls thumbs a newspaper on a terrace; at the end of a broad, straight boulevard, a slag heap from ongoing mining looms ever taller. Back in the day, trains like the Silver City Comet were a lifeline through the surrounding wilderness to Sydney to the east. It went by another moniker: the Rattler, named for its party trick of rattling tea out of cups as it traversed the uneven terrain. I'm travelling in comparatively more comfort. Back at the station, I leave Shelita and climb on board the Indian Pacific in time for a late breakfast. As the train heaves off from Broken Hill, an orchestra of squeaks, rattles and creaks starts up, the soundtrack of the carriages that strain to follow the same path they have for the past 50 years. I head to the Queen Adelaide dining car, which appears likewise much as it always has, time capsule-like in its undying commitment to all things retro: the browns and golds, the white tablecloths, the gilded ceiling panels and etched glass booth dividers framed by faux-Grecian columns. Breakfast today is a mix of both refined and unrefined Australian dining: creamy scrambled eggs with hot smoked trout, and a side of toast with Vegemite. Slowly, freight carriages and pylons pass beyond the windows to reveal a broad, flat plain of blue-green saltbush, broken up by dry creeks and gaping maws of that characteristic red earth. Every so often, a kangaroo raises its smooth head to watch our locomotive interloper, or an emu sprints on gangly legs in the direction of the great, flat horizon. Out here in the Australian bush, the only measure of time's passing comes from the steady arc of the sun. Clouds waft overhead, the dust settles as the breeze softens, and the world seems to hold its breath. Traversing the breadth of Australia by train is a considerable feat of engineering. Back in the 20th century, around the time of the Rattler, the beginnings of a cross-country railway did exist, but it was missing a central belt between Kalgoorlie and Port Augusta, spanning almost 1,243 miles. Western Australia was instead reached via treacherous sea voyages across the Great Australian Bight. Why this was deemed preferable is unsurprising — consider the technology, the sheer grit and determination, required to cross the breadth of a continent generally characterised by the inhospitality of its landscape. With the gold fields of Western Australia too isolated in a newly federated country, the first tracks of what would become the Trans-Australian Railway were laid in 1912 — using picks, shovels, carthorses and camels. Five years, 2.5 million hardwood sleepers and 140,000 tonnes of rail later, it was done. In 1969, the route was rebuilt and extended from Sydney to Perth, making it possible to ride a train 62 hours between the Pacific and the Indian Ocean for the first time. And the first passenger train to make the full crossing? The Indian Pacific. That evening, I crank open the blinds in my cabin to better watch the stars, so bright and clear in the inky darkness that they're more like beacons than pinpricks. Some time during the night, we cross into the Nullarbor, the place from John Edward Eyre's nightmares. It's here that the Indian Pacific quietens, its familiar clanking rhythms fading to a low, continual rumble. Where the route to Broken Hill had been thunderous, rattling skeletons as much as it once did teacups, the passage west feels calm and straight, almost like we've left all trace of land behind and set sail on the calmest lake. At some far-flung point in history, this vast expanse of limestone bedrock was an ancient seabed, which rose from the waves over the millennia at this near-southernmost edge of the world. There are few trees on the Nullarbor because the soil is a calcium-rich loam, derived mainly from unfathomable quantities of seashells. The following morning, the magic of the Nullarbor unfolds beyond the window. I watch, transfixed, from my narrow bunk — it's monotonous yet somehow utterly entertaining. Only sporadic, low-lying pockets of stunted eucalypts, saltbush and wild acacia break up the great expanse of perfectly flat, Lucozade-red earth, which unfurls in seemingly limitless quantities in every direction, beyond every window. Few places on Earth are so featureless, few horizons so unbroken for so long. It's a view that tugs at your feet and suggests you take a long walk. But set off here, and trouble surely follows; daytime temperatures can reach 50C, the plains go on for around 124,000 sq miles, and there's a reason why its Aboriginal name is 'Oondiri', or 'the waterless'. Australia is the sixth-largest country in the world, about 30 times the size of the UK, and on this mighty plateau you finally gauge a sense of its mammoth scale. This, the longest straight stretch of train track in the world, is even identifiable from space. Edward John Eyre was the first European to cross the Nullarbor on foot in 1840-41. He walked in the footsteps of three Aboriginal guides, eating kangaroos and sucking water from the roots of gumtrees to survive. Partway across they also ate their horses, and not long after that two of the guides mutinied — the year-long crossing only succeeding thanks to supplies donated from a passing French whaling vessel. Our crossing will take just over a day, with the contemporary luxuries of live music, air conditioning and an open bar — although in the Queen Adelaide dining car, kangaroo is still on the menu. In the lounge car, the train's equivalent of a living room one carriage along from the restaurant, proximity fosters conversation and friendships forge easily. Sitting on one of the pink banquettes facing each other across the narrow aisle, a tall man wearing a backwards cap offers the passenger next to him a crisp. 'Don't mind if I do!', says a passing septuagenarian, flashing a grin as he takes one. It's after lunchtime, and the carriage's usual soundtrack of light jazz and clinking wine glasses is punctuated with shouts of 'Indiana!' and 'North Dakota!' as a group makes a game of trying to name the 50 US states from memory. By evening, they'll switch to telling ghost stories. On the Nullarbor, the art of doing nothing becomes an Olympic sport. For there's virtually nothing here — its name is from the Latin nullus arbor, meaning 'no trees'. The Groundhog Day nature of the landscape means the world narrows to just 27 carriages. At first, it makes you feel nervous — what will you do? — but then your thoughts slow and you remember you like reading. You strike up conversations with strangers in the hallway, barely wide enough for one, grinning sheepishly and scuttling into your cabin like a crab evading the tide whenever another passenger needs to pass. Or you lie back on your bunk and watch all that nothing roll by. There's a screech as the train slows, red earth still rolling beyond one bank of windows, a grove of eucalypts now visible through the other. Once it stops, we step out into the dust one by one, our boots crunching on a fine layer of terracotta scree. It could be Mars — not least for its sense of utmost remoteness. We're still on the Nullarbor, as we have been for more than 24 hours now, around 620 miles from Adelaide but still some 1,000 from Perth. To my right, beyond the locomotive, the tracks plough on before surrendering to the horizon. Ahead, a jumble of low-lying houses is just visible through the trees. The township of Cook was established in 1917 as a service centre for the transcontinental railway, with a school, hospital, general store and golf course. Around 300 people lived here at its height, with the weekly 'Tea and Sugar' train supplying the families with sheep, groceries, haircuts — even a present-wielding Santa at Christmas. But by 1997, when the Australian National Railway was sold, it was decided that the town was only needed as a watering and refuelling station — and, almost overnight, it all closed. Cook became a near-ghost town. There are now no permanent residents, though a handful of railway workers endure. I walk towards the houses, the train's riveted stainless-steel carriages an incongruous procession of silver bullets in an otherwise elemental landscape. I pass a signpost pointing to Sydney, Perth and Souvenirs — though the word 'Souvenirs' has been scratched out. A flaccid windsock briefly stirs as a breeze whispers across the plain. Electricity wires undulate overhead; the only sound, beyond the low rumble of our refuelling train and the crunching of my boots, is the lonely call of a little black-and-white bird perched on one of the pylons. Ahead, town caretaker Brady Bennett is leaning against a low fence in a fluorescent orange jacket, attempting to flatten his cowlicked silver hair with such fervour that I wonder when he last had a visitor. 'G'day!' he calls over to me with a thick Australian accent, his eyes concealed behind dark glasses, his skin blushing pink from the sun. 'I'm Brady, like the Bunch.' He tells me he used to work in mining but now cleans the train drivers' quarters, usually remaining here for three weeks — sometimes up to six — before getting a week off. I ask him if it ever gets boring at the heart of the Nullarbor. 'Waking up every morning like this? How's that boring?' he says, his tone incredulous. 'I like the quiet — when I knock off, I go back to my house to have a couple of tinnies and listen to my records, do a bit of gardening.' He points to his house on the end of the row, where spiky succulents emerge from the gravel. On a rusted barrel, he's lined up a row of toy cars with the precision of a drill sergeant. 'I live in Adelaide, but I hate city life really. The traffic jams, everything else. Here there's no traffic, no roundabouts, no crime,' he says. 'I've got a couple of friends here. You sort of keep to yourself but sometimes you might go and have a drink or two with 'em, sometimes we'll have a fire out front and have a yarn. It really is the simple life.' He pauses thoughtfully, before adding: 'But if I want a hamburger, it's 140Ks that way.' He points back the way I've come along the tracks. Brady directs me along the path to the remnants of the school, past a decaying basketball court, the hoops' nets a tangle of forlorn strings. When I find it, decades spent beneath the Nullarbor sun have begun to erase all evidence: windowpanes peel, machinery rusts orange and an outbuilding classroom slowly turns to splinters, the bleached dingo painted on one side now a ghostly apparition in a field of desert flowers. The next morning on the train, I wake to something I've not properly seen for days, and Brady hasn't seen for weeks: water. So much of it that it froths and churns in the sunrise's amber light, threatening to spill over the rocky banks and surge into the forested hills that rise steeply on either side. The view through the windows is jarringly bucolic, the red earth of the Nullarbor traded overnight via scenic sleight of hand for green, endless green. The Avon River washes far below and runs parallel to the train tracks; in the far distance, trees dot emerald hummocks like broccoli florets. After a few hours, the Avon meets the Swan, the mighty watercourse that begins north east of Perth and coils right through the heart of the Western Australian capital before washing out to sea. As we approach the city, humanity appears in greater and greater concentrations: coffee-drinking suburbanites drive to work; people cycle between low bungalows; and workers tend to rows of manicured grapevines. And then I see them: skyscrapers emerging from the haze on the distant blue horizon. Over three days, we've crossed the breadth of Australia from the Pacific to the Indian Ocean, from Sydney to this westernmost terminus, via a landscape so empty that ours were the only footprints for thousands of miles. And now, with a jolt, we're about to rejoin society. Published in the April 2025 issue of National Geographic Traveller (UK).To subscribe to National Geographic Traveller (UK) magazine click here. (Available in select countries only).

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