
Sigourney Weaver commits fully to the Australian accent and the Australian landscape; the scripts commit to neither.

Season two proves that the best Australian drama on television is the one most willing to look silly in a period wig.

Del Kathryn Barton's debut feature looks nothing like any other Australian film this decade, and that is both its weapon and its problem.
The ABC made a miniseries about the Black Summer fires less than two years after the smoke cleared, and the question is not whether it was too soon but whether it was enough.

The score for JJ Winlove's film does its best work in the silences between the cues, where Hazlehurst's face carries everything the music chose not to.

Hazlehurst plays a woman with dementia who gets one lucid day, and the film is wise enough to spend it on repair rather than nostalgia.

Weaving plays a widower on a dating app, and the show's best trick is treating online romance with the same gravity it gives grief.

Eight directors filmed eight stories on a single Western Sydney street, and the accumulation is more than any one of them could have managed alone.

Zarvos scores the recovery around the magpie rather than the woman, and the displacement is exactly right.

Watts returns to Australian cinema for a true story about a magpie and a spinal injury, and the film is better when it trusts the bird.

Ray Lawrence's film is about what happens when suburban walls are too thin, and in lockdown every wall became too thin.

Shannon Murphy's debut refuses to tidy its grief, and the mess is exactly where the film finds its nerve.