myDylarama

2025 British docs to look out for in 2026

Abla Kandalaft — 2025-12-18T12:54:56Z

As we near the end of 2025, we wanted to flag a couple of placing working class communities at their heart, which will be screening in the new year.

First up is Iron Ladies, a rousing, inspiring doc championing the women at the heart of the miners' strikes that will resonate today.

Given where we are today, it's unsurprising that many people think back to the miners' strike of 1985 with a sense of resignation and defeat. Daniel Draper's doc Iron Ladies attempts (quite successfully) to shift that narrative. The film champions the spirit and tenacity of the women that sustained the fight for a whole year. "It were a win for women", one of the featured "Ladies" shares with Daniel. The strikes were triggered by Margaret Thatcher's government's pit closure plans, which were inevitably going to lead to mass unemployment and poverty, the effects of which are still being felt today.

Through (incredibly entertaining) talking heads, archive footage, and rousing music, Iron Ladies presents us with a global and in-depth appraisal of the strikes and their impact. Daniel speaks to women from the North to the South of the country - Durham, Yorkshire, South Wales, Kent... The film highlights the nationwide character of the strikes and their inspiring community spirit. It also delves into the sacrifices and hardship that the miners and their families had to endure. Crucially, the doc really drives home the remarkable fight that these women put up, in spite of the usual sexism they faced (“my mum told me I wasn't fit to be a wife or a mother”) and the wider pain and misery caused by the pit closures and police brutality. The doc doesn't shy away from revisiting the violence of episodes like the Battle of Oregraves and is scathing about media complicity and framing - "Police didn't clash with the miners. They attacked the miners". I'm mildly inclined to agree with The Indiependent's reviewer in that the film doesn't harness the opportunity to bring up the ways in which the events resonate in today's context. But... I would argue that audiences will invariably be thinking of the current UK political landscape: from the doctors' strikes to police repression and brutality, or the most recent starker echo: the first hunger strikes in the UK since 1981.

The second doc also champions working class voices, this time in the film industry. Rather, it unpacks the many ways in which they are actively and intentionally kept out of - at least - the higher echelons of film and TV. Again, through talking heads from industry stakeholders and famously vocal figures such as Maxine Peake and Paul Laverty, as well as concrete data, Scottish filmmaker Mark Forbes offers a fairly exhaustive account of the elitism that plagues this industry. This is a surprisingly rare doc about an issue that is so widely known and accepted. There's a distinct feeling that producers, funders, those with the keys to success all wax lyrical about theoretically platforming underrepresented voices but are not prepared to properly address the very material barriers that exist. Mark's film underlines the way exclusion really starts from birth. Access to the old boys' type networks is absolutely key - then followed over the years by successive hurdles: access to money, to cities and spaces where it all happens, ability to sustain high living costs and low pay or no pay... Let's hope industry "people" watch it and genuinely address the points it raises.

Here's an interview with Mark Forbes with The Canary:

Palestine 36 - Harrowing and all too rare retelling of the pre-Nakba period

Mydylarama team — 2025-09-18T15:54:53Z

Palestinian cinema is distinctly prolific. The more efforts are made to erase Palestinians as a people and Palestine as a slice of West Asian land, the more urgent the storytelling becomes. 2025 has already seen a number of much hyped premieres and releases, but the novelty this year seems to be the rare inclusion of historical dramas, films set around the time of the Nakba or earlier. These have been few and far between on the mainstream festival/distribution circuit. The Time That Remains or The Gate of the Sun come to mind from the last couple of decades...

This year saw the Summer premiere of Palestinian American filmmaker's All That's Left of You, which she has described as a “Palestine origin story.” The film is built around a Jaffa family saga, covering post 48 decades (the Nakba, the war of 1967, the First Intifada) but the focus remains on the dynamics and the fate of one particular family.

Annemarie Jacir (Salt of this Sea, Wajib - a film that just gets better with every viewing) tackles the pre-Nakba peasant revolt of 1936 and the wider colonial context in ambitious and wide-reaching epic Palestine 36. The film begins in (the titular) 36 in Palestine, then under British administration following the end of WW1 and the fall of the Ottoman Empire. Tensions have been escalating for years in the form of strikes, insurrections, and demonstrations, and culminate in an all-out Palestinian revolt against British colonial rule and the growing number of Zionist settlers.

In order to weave together quite dense geopolitical context and fictional plot, Jacir has quite deftly created a patchwork of characters - the young Yousef who hails from a small village, Afra and her family of farmers, Amir, an influential newspaper editor, and his journalist wife Khuloud, Father Boulos, the village priest, the British dignitaries - whose personal intertwined stories play out against the consequences of the factual history.

So little exists in mainstream cinema about this particular period - the Arab peasant revolt, the plan to partition Mandatory Palestine, which helps expose it (and the later the creation of the State of Israel) as "simply" another tendril of Britain's colonialist enterprises - that Jacir deserves credit for tackling it. Helpfully, the alludes to the earlier Sykes-Picot agreement, which essentially implemented the wider partition of the region and helps shed light on the geopolitics at play today, really driving home the fact that the ongoing wars, occupations, coups, and violence have their roots in political decisions that are only a century old.

Unsurprisingly, and despite weaving so many strands together (including archival footage), Annemarie Jacir does so seamlessly, and although the various protagonists are fairly archetypal, she creates real emotional engagement with their respective destinies, and rouses anger at the cruelty and injustice of the decades that would follow, and that would eventually lead us to what we are witnessing today.

In Vermiglio, the cold bites but it also keeps you alive.

Abeer Qureshi — 2025-03-15T13:34:00Z

1944. Wartime Italy. Icebound village. Maura Delpero's Vermiglio (2025) is truly an exquisite winner of the Venice Film Festival's Grand Jury.

The slow-burn family saga unspools the glimpses of joy swallowed by the void of war. It has the essence of a memoir with the period film rooted in the depths of Delpero's own family history. Timelessness pulses at the heart of the film. Tradition is a familiar, well-trodden path—especially for the schoolteacher and moral arbiter Cesare (Tommaso Ragno), whose esteemed position is built upon upholding age-old customs. The story follows his exhaustingly pregnant wife, Adele (Robera Rovelli) and their many children's lives. In the backdrop, hunger looms, casting a shadow of enduring struggle.

A serene suffocation permeates the snowy alpine landscape where fragile beauty veils seemingly queer moments. Cesare's well-mannered daughter Ada (Rachele Potrich) and her intense friendship with a rebel smoker who she admires (Carlotta Gamba), exposes the fragile dance between yearning and reality. Ada finds herself seeking contraband in her father's drawer, pleasuring herself behind cupboards and eats chicken poop as penance.

The more present thread in the familial tapestry is the romance which unfolds between Cesare's eldest doe-eyed daughter Lucia (Martina Scrinzi) and the charismatic lost soldier Pietro (Giuseppe De Domenico). Their enchanting tale has the resonance of ‘star- cross'd lovers', or perhaps mountain-crossed lovers with the peaks they climb in every sense of the word. She falls pregnant and whispers of unspoken truths soon become
screams. Then silence falls again.

The casting is sublime. Every actor embodied their role with nuance that it was impossible not to be drawn into the familial dynamics. The delicate interplay of desire to please and subtle favouritism felt authentic and the innocence of the sisters was tender, from the intimate late-night talks to curious confessionals.

The symphony of mundanity, from the birdsong to the cows, can at times feel slumberous. Despite the occasional lull, each frame of Mikhail Krichman's cinematography feels worthwhile. It makes space for a simmering undercurrent of sorrow, and does well to delineate the narrative without the shades of icy blue melding into each other. Every minute is distinct.

The impeccable craft, however, suffers at times because of the overly complex, meandering narrative that struggles to remain focused on the family mosaic. The relationship between Cesare and his resentful son Dino becomes one too many threads to follow. In turn, it leads to a blurred and underdeveloped scattershot of some of the children's lives. Lucia's plotline is one that felt it needed more depth as she grappled with much more than the difficulties of motherhood.

The omnipresence of fate's cruel design is chilling. The frosty portrait of fragile existence morphs into a tender meditation on loss, longing and surviving. Adele and Cesare's marriage takes on the symbolic significance of a ticking clock. Adele's pregnancy marks the passage of time and the inevitable return of old patterns: a stark muted chaos.

In Vermiglio, the cold bites but it also keeps you alive.

All We Imagine As Light - hope and despair in an indifferent urban jungle

Sally Zarzour — 2024-11-20T10:45:08Z

‘I've lived here for 23 years, but I am afraid to call it home. There's always the feeling that I have to leave.' The opening line of the film All We Imagine as Light perfectly depicts the turmoil of being an immigrant, away from a land you call home.

All We Imagine as Light opens with lively shots of Mumbai's packed streets, capturing the city's bustling energy. The overwhelming yet soft shots immediately set the tone for the film's exploration of migration and new beginnings, as millions arrive in the metropolis, chasing dreams or escaping realities. The camera weaves through these streets, with a stylistic choice of a hand-held camera, almost voyeuristic style, as if we are not merely observers but confidants to the characters' inner worlds.

Payal Kapadia's first narrative feature blends poetic realism with sharp social commentary. The story focuses on three nurses: Prabha, Anu, and Parvaty. Prabha, recently abandoned by her husband after an arranged marriage, navigates a life filled with yearning and duty, while Anu juggles the precariousness of a Hindu-Muslim romance. Parvaty faces eviction due to looming gentrification. Their struggles encapsulate the tension between hope and despair in an indifferent urban jungle.

Kapadia's artistry is apparent in her tactile use of sound and image. Melancholic shades of blue flood the screen, reflecting the characters' loneliness, while moments of surrealism—such as a nearly drowned fisherman becoming a vessel for Prabha's longing—break the narrative's realism, hinting at a mystical undertone. The camera's closeness to the characters creates an intimacy that transforms even mundane moments into profound reflections.

The film's title, All We Imagine as Light, gains resonance from the line: “in the darkness you try to imagine light but you cannot.” It encapsulates the characters' desperate attempts to hold onto a glimmer of hope amidst their suffocating realities. Whether it's Prabha finding solace in poetry or Anu stealing moments of love in public spaces, the film poignantly illustrates the resilience required to imagine light in overwhelming darkness.

Kapadia's work, reminiscent of Apichatpong Weerasethakul's dreamlike storytelling and Wong Kar-wai's color palettes, brings global sensibilities to an Indian setting. Her poetic, yet precise portrayal of Mumbai captures its dual nature: a city of dreams and relentless hardships. This debut confirms Kapadia's place as a vital voice in contemporary cinema.

The London Migration Film Festival will screen All We Imagine as Light as part of their 2024 programme. The inclusion of the film amplifies its themes, inviting audiences to reflect on the struggles faced by those who navigate the precariousness of migration, whether across continents or within the soul.

The festival's 9th edition runs from 20-27 November 2024 at a number of venues across London.

The Fisherman and the Banker: aesthetically powerful and ethically chilling

Judy Harris — 2024-10-14T11:15:13Z

It's odd that, given the current state of things, online lists of ‘films that make you cry' rarely include political documentaries. Maybe to be seen crying at such a film would betray a shameful naivete (‘didn't they know the World Bank is evil? What a chump!') or maybe people don't watch these films to cry but to be inspired or relieved that someone else, somewhere else is fighting for justice (even if they don't win). Probably, in 2024, English-speaking audiences watching films about Indian fishers taking the International Finance Corporation (IFC) to court over the environmental impact of a coal-fired power plant are more likely to feel jaded than heartbroken.

Not all ‘David vs Goliath' films are moving, some are plain didactic, but The Fisherman and the Banker is aesthetically powerful as well as ethically chilling. While the convergence of poetics and politics isn't always a good thing, when they come together here the long shots of the sea and the shore, filmed from a distance, give us a chance to take in the horrible details. The film would have been even more evocative with more of these moments but productivity reigns supreme in filmmaking as well as power plants and the story is (too) quickly resumed.

The Wagher community's battle ultimately lost on appeal in 2022 but their struggle resulted in the legal precedent that international organisations could be sued in U.S. federal courts, which is a significant victory. Despite their failure to win and the fact that we all know how bad the World Bank and how much we already know about the horrific impact of industrialisation on rural communities and the environment, films that direct our attention to specific battles, places and people enlarge our sense of the world and make our awareness less theoretical and more real. So, even if you don't cry, this film will make you feel something, even if it's something you already know.

Girls Will Be Girls Review: Being a Girl in a Man's World

Jana Al-Mughrabi — 2024-09-10T19:49:06Z

Schuchi Talati's first feature film Girls Will Be Girls (2024), starring Kani Kustruti and Preeti Panigrahi, is a tenacious yet tender tale of a mother and daughter in this quiet but dazzling coming of age story. Set in the Himalayas, the film follows sixteen year-old Mira, the first female elected Prefect at her boarding school, as new boy Sri, awakens her sexuality and disturbs her academic routine. Mira's emotionally strenuous and complicated relationship with her mother entangles her in an emotional throuple. Talati's feature delves into the sticky codependent relationship between mother and daughter, fluctuating between overbearing love and hissing jealousy, as both women connect with their inner desires. Anila, Mira's unconventional mother, is lonely and neglected as a stay at home wife. Married at a young age, Mira's sexual awakening stirs in Anila feelings of lust and envy as she is reminded of her adolescence.

Sri, who Talati uses as a catalyst in the story between Mira and Anila's relationship, instantly becomes the main talking point between the otherwise quiet and desolate pair. Cinematographer Jih-E Peng, beautifully captures on screen the ever shifting battle for power between mother and daughter. In a scene between Mira, Anila and Sri, Peng meticulously displays the triangulation of power in a sort of primal courtship dance, as both Mira and Anila fight to dominate the screen and sideline the other. Sri, while often in shot, is caught in between the two women, his back is towards the viewer or his face obscured. Despite the film's flirtations with teenage love, this coming of age is not a love story, but a young girl's quest for sexual autonomy and reconciliation as she begins to understand her mother as a woman first.

Talati's storytelling is endearing yet confronting, as she explores themes of power, sexuality and gender with such nuance and consideration. Set between Mira's home and private boarding school, Talati provides context that shapes Mira's sexuality as a privileged young Indian woman. Despite being elected as school Prefect, Mira is not respected by her male peers, who jeer and harass her as she attempts to crackdown on their predatory untoward behaviour at school. However, when flagged up to Ms Bansal, the school headteacher who also becomes another mother figure, Mira is dismissed and instead Ms Bansal tells her to discipline her female friends for their potential fleeting flirtations with boys in the school corridors. Ms Bansal represents classic Indian traditions, always dressed in a sari (in contrast with Anila's jeans and t-shirt) she upholds patriarchal values and guides Mira, as school prefect, through the conventions she feels young Indian women ought to follow in order to earn their place. Mira's idolisation of Ms Bansal comes crashing down on teacher's day, as Mira's world as she knows it comes to a halt when a gaggle of boys threaten her after she reprimands their inappropriate behaviour and rejecting their advances as she quickly locks herself in the girls dorm. To Mira's utter dismay, instead of dealing with the harassment Mira had been warning her about, Ms Bansal scolds Mira for her relationship with Sri, threatening to take away her Prefect status. In a pivotal scene, Anila comes to her daughter's rescue, defending Mira and criticising Ms Bansal and the boys, she takes Mira home. This is the first moment in the film where we see Mira hug her mother.

Through their turbulent relationship, Talati is able to humanise both Mira and Anila as individuals who are stifled and frustrated with their conditions and the social expectations of a conservative patriarchal society. Shot mainly in close up and mid shots, cinematographer Peng is able to illustrate their quiet suffocation. The two women fight for any semblance of power, Anila becomes the overprotective mother with no boundaries, and Mira becomes the detached and rebellious teenager. Somewhere in between this power struggle, Mira comes to the realisation that her gripes are misdirected at her mother and instead evolves her worldview.

In her exploration of sexuality, Talati makes the distinction between male and female. While both are a power struggle, male sexuality is presented as dominance and manipulation. Sri, charming and dreamy at first as we view him from Mira's point of view, is selfish and inconsiderate as he exploits both Mira and Anila for his own personal gain, what he refers to as “keys”, with little consideration for either woman. Male sexuality is also presented in the clique of boys who terrorise the school halls with their phone cameras, upskirting and heckling the girls to little consequence. Whereas female sexuality is explored through sensuality, tenacity, acts of service and self awareness. Some of the most intimate scenes involve mirrors where Mira watches herself rubbing in lotion and dancing, or looks at her vagina for the first time, enlightened as she connects with her changing body. She spends her time helping Sri study, staying up late on the phone talking about his life experiences, and making romantic birthday plans for him.

Girls Will Be Girls is a must watch. Its sensitive portrayal of femininity and female relationships is transformative to say the least.

Girls Will Be Girls is showing in UK cinemas from 20 September.

Bye Bye Tiberias A hopeful by Lina Soualem - A hopeful and nostalgic ode to those we leave behind

Sally Zarzour — 2023-11-10T14:14:12Z

Bye Bye Tiberias follows Hiam Abbass, who leaves her Palestinian village of Deir Hanna, to pursue her dream of becoming an actress, leaving behind her mother, grandmother, and sisters. Abbass returns to her village, with her daughter, Lina Soualem, to explore her the history behind those four generations of women, and through that prism, the Palestinian people as a whole.

Bye Bye Tiberias is what a firm hug feels like, in the shape of a film - nostalgic, raw, powerful, and sentimental. It allows us to indulge and sit with the different ways it has left a mark. It is quite clear why Bye Bye Tiberias is Palestine's official submission in the 'Best International Feature Film' category at the 96th Academy Awards in 2024.

Director Lina Soualem has a personal connection with the various characters in her second feature documentary; this is clear in the intricate conversations that sometimes feel too personal for us to be listening in on. The exchanges between them blend together love and humour, and encapsulates what it truly means to be Palestinian, and indeed Arab. The complication of belonging to a place you may never step foot in or see, whilst trying to navigate your way through life. The concept of being forced to build a home outside of home triggers a lingering feeling, which stays with you long after the credits roll. The longing and pain of leaving behind the ones you hold dearest to your heart in pursuit of making your dreams come true, unaware of the lifelong consequences that may follow.

Lina covers four generations of the women in her family, including her mum, the notable actress Hiam Abbas, known for her role in Gaza Mon Amour and the series Succession. By presenting history over several decades, Lina is able to portray how everything changes, yet remains the same. Bye Bye Tiberias powerfully depicts the numerous experiences these resilient Palestinian women share. In spite of exile, dispossession, and heartache, they preserve their history, heritage, and legacy through the power of their relationships.

In the scene where Hiam is battling between pursuing success as an actress and wanting to go back to her mother is one of the countless moments that really resonates with us viewers. The regular video calls with her mother promising that she will be back before she knows it remind us all of the universal need to make the most of the time we have left with the ones we love. Hiam also narrates stories of her family's displacement, as she
stands in Palestine between the Mediterranean Sea, Syria, Lebanon and Jordan. Her family's story is one of many, representing the dispersion and forceful exile of Palestinians all over the world.

In her own lens, Lina also captures the experience of being a third-generation kid. She mentions in her Q&A how she was not intending to be a part of the film. However, the story felt incomplete without the narrative of the current generation. Bye Bye Tiberias is an encouraging story, one of uncovering the past knowing it may not lead to the answers we seek. The film emphasises the importance of archiving and maintaining our heritage and stories; of preserving them by any means possible.

Bye Bye Bye Tiberias is a compelling commemoration of existence defined by exile, banishment, and obliteration. With the current events we are witnessing, the relevance of the film shines bright for the region, encouraging us to never stop sharing our narratives.

"It offered solace and an outlet in its silent form of rebellion" - Exploring Nüshu in Hidden Letters

Asma Ibrahim — 2023-09-29T12:17:18Z

Violet Du Feng's film tells the story of two Chinese women trying to balance their lives as independent women in modern China while confronting the traditional identity that defines but also oppresses them.

Nüshu (女书), literally ‘women script', is described as a secret language developed by women in Jiangyong Prefecture in China to communicate with each other. At one point as an undergraduate, I came across Nüshu while reading on the intersection between gender and literature in East Asia. The story of a language created as an act of rebellion against a society that treated them poorly drew me in, but I didn't come across it again until Hidden Letters.

Violet Feng's Hidden Letters is a documentary that focuses on the modern manifestation of Nüshu and its treatment as a commodity. In doing so, it unwittingly reveals and comments on the challenges women face in modern day China.

Nowadays, Nüshu is a hobby, a commodity, and a performance. It is a remnant of history that has been preserved but in a way that was utterly unforeseen by its creators and participants. What was once a private form of communication subtly appearing on handkerchiefs and fans, domestic items easily passed between women, is now public, preserved in museums and public displays. It is noted in the documentary that Nüshu literature was rare as women were often buried with all of their writings. Its ‘discovery' has only been recent, as late as the 1980s.

Three women are at the forefront of the film. They share a deep interest in Nüshu albeit in different ways. Hu Xin receives various awards for her mastery over the language, and acts as a guide at the museum. Simu is a singer and calligrapher of Nüshu, and both look up to He Yanxin, the last of her generation that practised Nüshu. UNESCO notes it as the world's only language created and used exclusively by women - it is a language that is gendered in its existence.

This background knowledge makes the interactions of men with Nüshu very bizarre. There is a scene where a man talks about the necessity of commercialising Nüshu for its survival, and we are subjected to awkward scenes that reveal what this might mean. Singing to a crowd or performing is fairly standard, but there is a bizarre scene where a male developer proudly brandishes a phone that can translate Mandarin into Nüshu. Charging $300 for the phone, the crowd quickly starts to criticise it. There are more instances when a man complains about the size of Nüshu calligraphy (which is deliberately small), and another who comments that obedience, one of the qualities of Nüshu, is lacking in many women nowadays. The irony of these moments cannot be overstated, the spirit of Nüshu is utterly misunderstood by the various men that interact with it. No longer a secret, a series of men have waltzed in to make various decisions concerning Nüshu that do very little to honour its meaning.

It is only in the intimate and peaceful conversations with He Yanxin that we are reminded of the essence of Nüshu. Nüshu provided solidarity and sisterhood, it allowed women to voice their pain and suffering without fear of discovery. It offered solace and an outlet in its silent form of rebellion.

There is a scene in the documentary that will remain with me for some time. Simu is engaged and discusses life plans with her fiancé. His priority is for them to work as much as possible so they can buy a home. There is a moment when Simu questions her fiancé about what time she will have to actually practice Nüshu. The response of her fiancé is that her hobby isn't comparable to a real job. While Simu does not confront him on this point, there is a clear look of deep unease and dissatisfaction with this response. He adds that his mother worked in the day and then did house chores in the evenings, with the clear implication that Simu should work like his mother did without complaint. For a documentary that focuses on a language borne out of gendered oppression, the deliberate inclusion of this scene is to remind us that the past might not be as distant as we might assume.

The film is playing at Fragments Festival.

Unidentified Objects: A deftly made and good-looking sci-fi road movie

Judy Harris — 2023-09-28T12:03:40Z

North America: neon motel signs; lens flares; two unlikely companions embarking on a road trip (he's uptight and reads Chekhov, she's into aliens and couldn't name a single Russian author). Have we all seen this movie before? Yes! And no.

Unidentified Objects is deftly made and good-looking, attempting to merge, if not subvert, generic conventions. While the plot remains on familiar territory the film is elevated into another dimension by Matthew Jeffer's performance as Peter, a hot, misanthropic, gay little person accompanying his woo-woo neighbour on a road trip to find the aliens that abducted her as a teenager. Funny, sexy and only a little vulnerable, Peter is winsome in the best way, never descending into a stereotype or a victim, while enabling the film to consider what it means to be someone ‘prone to illness' in a world where the pandemic is barely acknowledged. This is an issue of such little interest to the film industry that the masks he wears are more alien to post- pandemic cinema than the aliens themselves. Rebecca Hay's performance as Peter's sex worker neighbour in denim cut-offs also manages to avoid becoming a full-on stereotype, but only just. Roberta Colindrez, who jump starts their car, is magnetic as always.

The film glides along at a brisk pace, with only a few clunky scenes. The surreal sequences are enjoyable and the fantastic score really punches things up. It's disappointing, however, that even an indie movie with an alien subplot doesn't take more risks with the sci-fi sequences. While the cyberpunk inspired magenta-pink dreamscapes are eerie and beautiful, they're nothing new.

All in all, a fun trip that could have been trippier.

The film is currently playing at the Fragments Festival at the Genesis Cinema in London.

Smoke Sauna Sisterhood - Healing, cleansing and unburdening in an Estonian sauna

Robin W. Mac — 2023-09-27T12:04:12Z

The documentary Smoke Sauna Sisterhood (d. Anna Hints) almost entirely takes place in a smoke sauna in Vana-Võromaa, South-East Estonia. In the sauna a group of women come together to purify, cleanse, heal and converse. Opening with haunting chants in a fairy-tail woodland and wisps of smoke, I was reminded of Midsommar, and ignorantly wondered if this Smoke Sauna Sisterhood was going to be a matriarchal cult, albeit in rural Estonia not Sweden.

While the documentary deals with the sinister spectre of misogyny, the sisterhood is just that - a sisterhood, not an insular sect, and the sauna a safe space to share. What struck me most was that the sauna - recognised by UNESCO on their list of the intangible cultural heritage of humanity - is seen as a purification ritual physically but also psychologically. The smoke sauna is described as a “sacred place where you cleanse yourself” and the women ask the water to “take the pain away.” It is a steamy confessional and a form of therapy for these women, who share their memories, anxieties, secrets and the traumas they have faced. The documentary revolves around women talking - and would make for a fitting double-bill with the Sarah Polley film. How women have been put on display and prized for beauty contrasts with their un self-conscious bodies, which ironically intercuts with meat being hung to smoke in the very same sauna. Naked together, without shame or fear from their fellow bathers and the camera, they come together in this cleansing ritual and share their experiences. Ruminating on frequent feminist topics - a woman's right to choose, sexuality, romantic relationships, domestic violence, unrealistic beauty standards, intergenerational trauma, sexual assault, birth and motherhood. The women are comfortable talking and sharing often taboo topics. In particular, there is a very distressing moment where a participant vividly details being raped and how the men who found her after treated her as a sexual object, not the victim of a violent crime. I found it disturbing to passively watch this unfold in such an intimate setting, feeling like you were there in the sauna, and if you were, you would comfort the crying survivor. However, it did not feel salacious or intrusive, for her, the sauna serves as a place of comfort to unburden this memory with trusted friends.

While the majority of the documentary takes place in a sauna full of naked women, it never feels voyeuristic. You are a guest of these Estonian women, sharing in their stories that are sadly experienced by women globally. Oftentimes, the women giggle like schoolgirls when discussing sensitive topics; these women care for each other and use the sauna as a place to “take away the pain” through talking together. Director Anna Hints has so carefully captured a snapshot of these women's experiences and the sanctuary the sauna offers them and most likely for generations of women before.

Smoke Sauna Sisterhood is screening as part of the upcoming FragmentsFestival.