

This thoroughly enjoyable schlock horror game show pastiche is, as my MIFF buddy Not a Sexy Vampire aptly calls it, “the Don Lane show gone to hell.”
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This thoroughly enjoyable schlock horror game show pastiche is, as my MIFF buddy Not a Sexy Vampire aptly calls it, “the Don Lane show gone to hell.”
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Isabel Darling’s The Carnival reminded me of a particular ilk of great Australian documentary storytelling, like Maya Newell’s Gayby Baby (2015) and In My Blood it Runs (2019) and Justine Moyle’s Tall Poppy (2021). The storytellers find a subject or a family who seem absolutely ordinary and build a rapport that allows them to tell the story of how they are extraordinary.
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On the surface, this is a story of a woman trying to leave an abusive marriage, but it shines a light on the insidiousness of domestic violence and its roots in patriarchy.
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My mum was politically conservative. She and my dad were Liberal voters but I still remember the yellow triangular No Dams sticker on her car.
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A gentle love letter to Melbourne that will make you look up with a new appreciation of what you probably walk past every day.
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Granaz Moussavi has followed up her 2009 hit My Tehran for Sale with an intimate look at street kids in Kabul.
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You always hope for a gem at a film festival – a film you know nothing about, that you have no particular hopes for but that transports you somewhere transcendent.
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A surprising gut punch of a documentary that is as tense as a thriller and an emotional tribute to volunteers.
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I was instantly transported back 40 years in Richard Lowenstein’s chaotic love letter to 70s post-punk subculture.
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