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Standing and waiting in a crowd at peak hour outside Newtown train station at the pedestrian crossing. A crossdresser wearing a one piece orange swimsuit, a tiny matching frilly skirt and platform shoes pushes through. The sound of a communal inbreath as she runs dangerously through the traffic to the other side.
Julianne Nguyen turns a smartphone, webcam and head-mounted go-pro to the purposes of self-examination. A child of Vietnamese parents but born in Australia, she practises Christianity and Buddhism, and is trying to parse these various elements. 'I'm Australian. I feel Vietnamese,' she says, then chants: 'West. East. No, West. No, East.'
Hannah Gadsby's Nanette critiques comedy as an imperfect tool for processing and transcending trauma. Funny Cow, about a woman comedian in 1970s northern England, attempts something similar. Both say something about the intersection of comedy and trauma and what it reveals about how we relate to each other as human beings.
This sleight of hand from Albert sets a pattern, as the two go on to collude on an elaborate ruse, selling Edouard's designs for patriotic memorials that they never intend to build. Edouard, having plumbed the depths of opiate addiction, comes alive in the scam, a puckish schemer in a series of elaborate papier-mâché masks.
There has been a recent spate of men making inappropriate remarks. Barry Hall made a sexist joke on air. David Leyonhjelm told Greens senator Sarah to 'stop shagging men'. Bert Newton made a rape joke at the Logies. They were all called out. The way each responded left a lot to be desired.
Film buffs might regret there's not a more detailed technical breakdown of Bilcock's craft. Still it it is a warm-hearted tribute to the art of editing, the process by which a film takes its final form, often as different from what was shot as the footage isfrom the original script; and to one editor whose sense of character and audience is hailed by these directors as defining their films.
My Friend Dahmer, based on the memoir by John Backderf about his teenage friendship with the soon-to-be killer, is a complex character study of which Dahmer's troubled home life, repressed homosexuality, abuse of alcohol, and experiences of bullying and social alienation are motley features rather than defining characteristics.
'If only we could sit down with Palestinians for a bowl of hummus, all the problems would be solved,' says my Israeli friend, as we wipe hummus down with warm pita. He isn't the first to say this. Indeed, a film was made about the virtues of hummus, which asked if a regional love of hummus be the recipe for peace. Personally, I'm not so sure.
The pressure starts to get to Annie when she begins to suspect her mother is haunting her. This exacerbates pre-existing tensions; her husband is caring in a mildly condescending way, but is more concerned with the wellbeing of their children. Is the haunting real, then, or just a symptom of Annie's reluctance to let go?
In Mexico, every two hours a person vanishes. Most likely they are executed and thrown into narco-fosas, the term given to the thousands of clandestine graves used by narco-organised crime to bury their victims. Most of the victims are young. More than 46,000 young people were killed between 2007 and 2016.
Chappaquiddick notes the effects of these expectations on Ted's actions, without sympathising. 'I'm not going to be president,' he murmurs, by way of announcing Kopechne's death to Gargan. He comes off as more pathetic than Machiavellian, the future Liberal Lion rarely having the courage of his convictions.
At the time of his death in July last year, Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunupingu was the most commercially successful Aboriginal Australian musician to ever grace this world. Anyone expecting Gurrumul to resemble anything like your typical popular music documentary will be quickly dissuaded. Gurrumul was a far cry from your typical popular musician.
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