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In a year defined by uneven cultural offerings, books stood tall while cinema faltered and television treaded water. From Alexander Armstrong’s enchanting Evenfall to Patricia Briggs’ mystical Winter Lost, the literary landscape offered gems aplenty. Meanwhile, Netflix’s Mary proved a thunderous flop, and Barbie charmed in pink. Let the debates begin.
From reality TV’s contrived narratives to global news shaped by biases, we rarely consume truth unfiltered. Why does raw reality feel unbearable — and how does this shape our lives?
I wish I could tell you why Nobody wants this is so funny without giving spoilers. Add to that the real tenderness between the two lovers, and you’ve got something unusual: a believable romance, funny and sometimes surprisingly honest with little moments of humility and vulnerability.
The latest series of The Rings of Power is a real curate’s egg. Whether having some bits that are good among other bits that are on the nose is a conundrum that this viewer must sort out for herself. Do the bad bits ruin the whole thing?
Slow Horses is one of those dramas that are even better than the books they’re based on. The TV series is blessed by having Gary Oldman as Jackson Lamb, the grisly spy-genius with a preternatural instinct for sniffing out hidden agendas.
With contemporary crime dramas increasingly suffused with a sense of grim fatalism, The Rookie stands out for its optimism, a refreshing throwback to the days when crime series used to be about the mostly goodies chasing the mostly baddies.
You have to admit, the French have form for mocking religion. But with their peculiar take on the Lord's Supper with all its Dionysian excess, the colourfully irreverent opening ceremony left many asking: has Paris 2024 turned the Olympics into a ritual of performative ethics?
Are women truly the villains that modern crime dramas portray them to be? Despite the sensationalised 'evil woman' trope, real-life statistics tell a different story. It’s a cruel irony that the way to really victimise a woman is to tell her that she is the perp when she really is overwhelmingly more likely to be the victim of violent crime.
Most soldiers don’t like to talk about what they’ve been through, the things they’ve had to see; the things they’ve had to do. Uncle George was more willing to talk as he got older and more willing to be coaxed by a crowd of adoring nieces. But there were some things he'd never say. And the war never went away from him.
Since Peter Dutton has reignited the appetite for the dream of unlimited energy from atom-splitting, we have to think about the risks again. Is it more dangerous to keep burning coal and gas and oil and boil the planet than to have a few Chernobyls or Windscales? How do we balance such risks?
What can you say when faced by another season of Bridgerton – that posing, poncing, irony-defying travesty of all history, literature and human relationships? Bridgerton took the Barbara Cartland romance/mild erotica ethos and dumbed it down to fifty shades of fluorescent polyester.
Two books about a 1942 massacre of Australian nurses were released last year. One is reliable, the other is notable for factual omissions. If we leave something out, are we then guilty of censorship? Alternatively, if our truth-telling offends someone else, what is our justification for so doing?