

I feel enchanted by this unexpected emotional journey from the top of Alaska to the tip of Patagonia.
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I feel enchanted by this unexpected emotional journey from the top of Alaska to the tip of Patagonia.
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I’m not sure what I was expecting out of Julio Torres’s sweet and quirky almost fairytale about speaking up for yourself. Something easy to watch. I wasn’t expecting to find it so poignant.
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It’s quite possible that I should’ve given this film a miss. It started at 11:45 pm and I knew I had a morning film the next day. I kind of got caught up in the rush to get there and enthusiasm to see something a little bit weird late at night, something that I would never have the chance to see elsewhere.
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After sitting through four hours of McQueen’s Occupied City, I walked into slow cinema maven Tsai Ming Liang’s 70 minutes of a monk walking slowly.
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I really didn’t enjoy this film. It felt like a drama camp improv piece with funding. Having spoken to a queer friend afterward though, they have given me lots of links to articles on how it is a trans metaphor and groundbreaking in a lot of ways.
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Late night B grade horror is a bit of a MIFF treat but I think I knew 10 minutes in that this one was not going to be a ‘so bad, it’s good one’.
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This is one of those delightful stories you can’t believe is true but you’re so glad it is.
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I think what threw me about this often delightful, often gross body horror was the expectation from reading the synopsis that it was feminist. It has made me muse on what my expectations are when that term is applied to a film, and I think it is about more than putting women’s stories at the centre, It’s about stories of women’s power and autonomy.
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