Harlequin (1980) – Simon Wincer.

An ambitious, media-savvy, eminently corruptible politician (David Hemmings), and his attractive trophy wife (Carmen Duncan), have their aspirationally bourgeois existence demonstratively upended following the apparently miraculous cure of their dying son, by the darkly charismatic stranger Gregory Wolfe (Robert Powell). Harlequin remains a sublimely strange, appealingly enigmatic genre feature, the upgraded Rasputin mythos is strongly realised, as trixter Wolfe maintains his eccentric, sinister, playfully ambivalent facade right until Harlequin's deliciously ill-omened climax. The ruthless machinations of malign power broker Doc Wheelan (Broderick Crawford) provides an authentic, albeit heavy-handed nemesis, his increasingly desperate need to silence the sly, impishly manipulative Wolfe culminating in a suitably bloody climax.

A thrilling 80s Aussie oddity, mirroring Giulio Paradisi's equally Sci-fried The Visitor, Harlequin's central messianic magister, and his increasingly flamboyant flights of phantasmagoria prove utterly irresistible, if occasionally a tad confounding. Powell's performance is positively electric, his deeply penetrating, rapier-like gaze, and commanding presence lend rigorous credibility to Harlequin's more unexpectedly preternatural digressions. Powell receives capable support from an excellent cast, Carmen Duncan delivering a no less charged portrayal of a privileged socialite, anesthetized a loveless marriage, and the grief over her sickening child, galvanized by the virile, quixotic, Svengali-like jackanapes of Wolfe. A compelling cinematic curiosity that bares repeated viewings, and esteemed Australian composer Brian May provides yet another dynamic score.