
As the first gorgeous black-and-white scenes unfolded, I thought I had stumbled into a documentary.
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As the first gorgeous black-and-white scenes unfolded, I thought I had stumbled into a documentary.
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I was waiting in the lounge of the Capitol cinema, when a previous screening of this homegrown documentary finished. The foyer filled with a joyful throng of participants and their families, whose faces I now recognise for their starring turns in Thomas Highland’s skilful documentary.
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This smart, funny, and scary exploration of toxic relationships was a delightful surprise.
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A ‘talking heads’ documentary can be a bit of a chore when it’s your 33rd film of a festival but the subject matter in Sébastien Lifshitz’s heartfelt documentary keeps you engaged.
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This is one of the most heartfelt and inventive documentaries I ever remember seeing.
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A mental health crisis and ASMR collide to create a portrait of two lonely people in Auckland at night.
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Maite Alberdi allows us to travel back-and-forth through the life of writer Augusto Góngora. Part of the documentation and reconciliation after Chile’s fascist junta, his own memories are now scattering with Alzheimer’s.
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An enigmatic sci-fi-adjacent Moroccan mystical mood piece – which is a term, I never thought I would use.
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“Perpetrator perp-perpetrator, you’re a perpetrator.” The beats of Britney Spears’ Womanizer oddly fit this chaotic, feminist body horror by Jennifer Reeder.
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