Punch (2022) Welby Ings, New Zealand -98m-

A young boxer in small town New Zealand trains hard under pressure from his alcoholic father and meets an unassimilated gay man living in a shack on the beach.

Tim Roth has top billing as an exhausted alcoholic with no energy left for anything in life apart from his son's boxing training, but his character definitely takes a backseat to the two distinctive and empathetic young men, played by Jordan Oosterhof and Conan Hayes. Oosterhof plays Jim, a boxer with a lean, muscular body and sensitive blue eyes, who passes in this shitty, uptight small town because he's an athlete and masculine. Hayes plays Whetu, who is a social reject from the start of the film; gay, out and Māori, with no known social connections. He is an artist and a sex worker and has carved a tiny world for himself in a beautifully decorated shack in the sand dunes of a big empty black-sand beach past a “no trespassing” sign.

The two characters are so vividly drawn and delicately performed that their coming together is real and meaningful, because we know why they reach for each other in such a place. Away from the highly constrictive social expectations of the town they have a little paradise in Whetu's shack, decorated with many odd artefacts found and created by him. It is through each of them seeking solitude in the wilderness of the beach that they meet, and it is here that they are able to spend time, nurture each other and find love.

The small town of Pīrau and the other characters that inhabit it are merely mise-en-scene for their relationship and the transformation it allows in each of them. It successfully colours in the background that contextualises their internal and external limitations and their expanding identities. A small town with no opportunities, a culture and people who are determined to aggressively limit each other. They are two young men who have allowed themselves to enjoy rich inner worlds, who have not been deadened by small town life and of course will inevitably escape.

Their first encounter is when Jim, passing with his straight mates, drive past Whetu and call out “faggot”. Whetu is already known as an outsider, but at that moment Jim is curious enough to turn around for another look. Their first meeting is on the beach. Jim often goes out there to train and this time, believing he is alone, he gets naked and runs through the dunes and the surf. Whetu is hanging out with his little dog and Jim is embarrassed and instinctively defensive. They tell each other to fuck off and Whetu shouts, “This is Māori land!” This remote empty beach is clearly a sanctuary of safety and self-expression for each of them, and they have invaded each other's space. Their next meeting, Whetu is weaving flax in the dunes when Jim gets stung by a jellyfish and screams for help. Whetu takes him to his little shack hidden in the dunes on a stream bed, pulls out the tentacles and rinses his stings with vinegar. Jim is very impressed with the tranquillity of the place and the care put into each of the strange objects that decorate it. To Whetu's surprise, Jim returns the next day and they discover a place of mutual sanctuary where they can connect away from the expectations and derision of the town.

This is the first feature film from Welby Ings, who has made various shorts. The two characters here are clearly enriched by the protagonists in his short films Sparrow (2016) and Boy (2004). Sparrow is about a sensitive and isolated boy, who wants to fly and never takes off his home-made wings, coming to terms with the macho images he's expected to live up to. Jim tells Whetu about how when he was a child he used to come to the dunes with his wings and try to fly. We briefly observe a spiritual trace of them discarded in the sand as Jim rediscovers his open-heartedness with Whetu. The protagonist of Boy is an isolated teenager who is scorned by the town, a sex worker who picks up men in the public toilet and who has a sanctuary in an abandoned warehouse where he creates strange and beautiful doll sculptures. Whetu is a sex worker who makes no effort to fit into the roles this small-minded town finds acceptable and who instead creates a solo world for himself with strange, beautiful sculptures. Having seen these shorts, both of which can be streamed for free, the lives of these characters are real outside of the events and timeline of the present film. Though they encounter each other at this pertinent moment when they're both ready for change, they have pasts that can only be hinted at, inner worlds that they can only attempt to express to each other, and futures outside of Pīrau in which they will create something totally different of themselves. We get a joyous and moving glimpse of this future at the end.

These shorts were also poetic in the sense that they didn't really work on a narrative level and though they hinted at the beautiful inner worlds of these strange isolated boys they remained somewhat unsatisfying. In Punch he has created a more conventional narrative film with satisfying character arcs, but retained the delicate, poetic hinting at rich inner worlds; Whetu drinking wine from a china teacup; Jim running naked through the dunes. The narrative takes breaks into moments of subjectivity, some beautiful imagery and a little too much use of distorting lenses. The gentle pacing of the protagonists discovering each other was engaging, though the ending was unfortunately abrupt and unresolved.

It is typical to cast pretty actors to play romantic leads, but here we find characters who we love because they are beautiful as complete humans. The love story refreshingly has nothing to do with perpetuating the romantic myth or attaining the higher state of a monogamous committed relationship. These two characters, so coherently woven into the world of this moving film, are merely two people who take the opportunity to open their hearts to each other before moving on with their lives.

Mi vacío y yo [2022] Adrián Silvestre, Spain -98m-

My Emptiness and I

A young trans woman in Barcelona deals with her transition, dating and daily life.

The film has a straight-forward narrative style to the extent that it borders on documentary, though every scene burns with an authenticity that is entirely engaging. It is emotionally intense and yet naturalistic, confronting complex existential issues, yet never melodramatic. Nothing is played for pathos and yet I was entirely emotionally invested.

Written in collaboration with the protagonist, played by Raphaëlle Pérez, the film depicts the process of her being diagnosed with gender dysphoria, taking hormones, support group discussions with other trans people and the general emotion and confusion of transitioning. The joys and pains of dating and sex with men via an app are dealt with candidly. Finding authenticity is difficult when men are likely to have one of various reactions to her transness: shock, curiosity, fetishisation, uncertainty. She moves through these struggles neither as a victim nor a warrior, simply as a person confronting what is necessary in order to create the life she wants for herself.

Of an Age (2022) Goran Stolevski, Australia

Melbourne, 1999. A young Serbian-Australian ballroom dancer on the verge of adulthood discovers a surprising connection with the calm older brother of his chaotic best friend.

A tightly focussed dramatic portrait that successfully reveals the protagonist's emotional state-of-being. Capturing that vivid moment at the end of high school where he has not had a chance to yet discover who he is, how he will live or even what life is really like for a queer boy who will inevitably have to find his own way in a world that offers no role-models. He is so used to being lonely that he is genuinely shocked to discover someone who is not only openly gay, but who he actually likes and can effortlessly connect with in a meaningful and genuine way. Though the connection is brief, the need behind it is deep and long-lasting. Ten years later, the tragedy is that his life has changed drastically but the need is the same and remains equally unfulfilled.

The film focuses on only three characters at two distinct moments to make the most of its limitations. One day in 1999 the two men meet in transitional moments for them both and find a feeling of stability together. One day in 2010 they meet again and the resonance of that brief meeting ten years earlier is felt very strongly. Though the best friend/sister who connects them is vividly drawn and enthusiastically performed, the social milieu of the characters swirls around them and the film wastes no time in cutting to its primary focus. The depth and subtlety of how this brief and genuine encounter plays out, and what it means for the protagonist, are conveyed in a naturalistic way that continues to resonate after the film is over.

Sublime (2022) Mariano Biasin, Argentina

 A teenage boy in Argentina practices with his rock band and falls in love with his best friend, struggling to tell him how he feels.

A film that has been described as “underplayed” but I would describe as undeveloped. Many scenes play out with no clear purpose, nothing is revealed of the characters and nothing is developed in the plot, which becomes quite frustrating. The aspect ratio is wide, though the camera holds claustrophobically close on the actors' faces or the backs of their heads, and the focus is shallow, suggesting an intimacy and interiority. However, even the protagonist, who takes up most of the screentime, we learn nothing about, what he is thinking or feeling, witnessing only his moody eyes and messy, black, curly fringe.

This is a film that wouldn't exist without the undiscriminating market of the international queer film festival. There is an endless array of films about cute teenage boys struggling with their sexuality. However the actors are usually older than the characters and we are privileged with a depth of insight into their external and internal worlds. Here the actors look like they're actually teenagers, they burp in each other's faces for laughs, cannot communicate their feelings and spend lots of time staring moodily at their phones. Rather than witnessing a penetrating artistic portrait, I felt like I was just hanging out with immature and inexpressive teenagers, which was not fun.

There is a genuine feeling to the milieu, but no depth to the characterisations. The authenticity is most evident in the band performances. The characters are clearly writing and rehearsing their own four-piece rock band, genuinely working hard and improving. There is no post-dubbing or conspicuously well-rehearsed performances. But like most newly-formed teen rock bands, they're not very good.

(Spoiler alert.) The film does not justifies the title, awkward being a more appropriate adjective. A more appropriate title would be Nothing Will Change, a phrase that is whispered in one of the only sublime moments, when the protagonist is dreaming of intimacy with his best friend and bandmate. It is indicative of his friend accepting him after the revelation of his attraction, but also an unfortunate admission that there is almost no development in the entire running time of the film. The only point of tension is whether or not he will admit his love, and there are many frustrating scenes in which he does not. When he finally does it is very underwhelming, though there is a certain poignancy to it not being a big deal.

Lonesome (2022) Craig Boreham, Australia -95m-

A young rural Australian man escapes a small-town scandal to Sydney, meeting another guy through Grindr.

The plot feels less important than the intimacy between the lead actor and the filmmaker. The filmmaking is stark and direct, dealing with the moment-to-moment reality of the protagonist's marginal life. The impressive performance of lead Josh Lavery is unusual and takes time to reach its full impact. At first I thought his character was too underplayed, but slowly throughout the film I felt the impact of his hopelessness and the tangible reality of his survival-mode. Similarly, there is a lot of nudity and no aspect of his experience is excluded for good taste, the cumulative effect of which is deep empathy and familiarity, like the intimacy of getting to know a new lover. Subsequently, the extent of my identification with the protagonist by the end of the film was quite shocking.

His relationship with the Grindr hook-up that doesn't end is also depicted in a matter-of-fact way that somehow creates a cumulative impact, where the casualness of their commitment to each other obscures the evident fact that they have something very real and significant to offer each other. I hope this film gets a chance to reach the world and that Josh Lavery gets opportunities to surprise us further as a performer.

A New Heaven and a New Earth in Sydney

I seem to be more attractive in a state of complete detachment.  As I brisk walk down the street plugged in to my mp3 player I am completely immersed in the Swedish lessons I am listening to.  I am listening very carefully and repeating the language they are introducing me to.  I barely take a few quick moments to direct my attention out into the world to make sure I know where I am going, or to keep half an eye out for the street down which I should turn.  I pass hundreds of people and barely notice their reactions.  Perhaps they find it amusing or confusing that someone is speaking clear simple sentences in some foreign language with a tone as if they are speaking to an idiot.  But the day is hot and I am wearing only a pair of shorts, no shoes or shirt.  My body is exposed to the weather and the world.  A young woman whose beauty deserves more than the attention I give her is trying to elicit donations for the Red Cross.  When she approaches me I assume she will ask me for money, but she asks me if I am going to the beach and then admits that she would love to come with me.  I invite her silently with my hand as I brisk walk away and we both smile and we both know that she's not going to come with me.  Again I am completely immersed in the world of abstract Swedish language until I am stopped again by a couple of guys who tell me they are making a video for a Christmas party and they need me to perform for it.  I give them two minutes of attention and enthusiasm, receive their brief thanks, and continue walking at the same pace as before.  I finish the "tape" and begin the same lesson again.  I am profoundly excited at how fast it is possible to learn a new language.

I am a part of this capitalist world but not so identified with its seriousness.  I am a hypocrite for criticising it with such moral superiority and then desiring its objects.  I desire its food and literary objects.  I am not one who is pathetic enough to be defined by my low economic status.  The fact that I have very little money and currently have no income whatsoever does not mean that I have to buy house brand noodles and white bread for nutritional support.  I desire these superfoods like chia seeds, goji berries, unhulled tahini and New Zealand manuka honey.  I don't see why I would muck around with anything else simply because it is cheap.  There are ways of shopping, of course, that many people are not aware of.  There are now cloth bags which are reused and increasingly common.  One can simply shop with one of these green cloth bags, putting all their items into the bag with the most expensive items on the bottom.  When one reaches the checkout one simply digs as deeply into the bag as finances allow.  Sometimes only the cheapest two items are scanned through the checkout and the rest simply remain in the bag.  Life is more simple than people are telling us.  Of course I would never do this because it is against the law and I face the prospect of an awkward confrontation; and it is morally evil to enjoy the pleasures of the Earth's nutritious plants without financially supporting multinational corporations.

Whatever the city, I can behave in as unusual a manner as I like, and it is only my shame or self-consciousness that will attract negative attention.  If I perform my strangenesses with complete self-confidence I will radiate an attraction that will draw all sorts of beauty into my life.

The city is a place where we live so violently close to one another that at any moment we can create the experience we want and need by finding precisely the right person to share this experience with.  Perhaps this is the real deep-seated reason for the modern tendency towards urbanity.  The world is speeding up, time and space are expanding and we all need to contribute to the exponential increase in novelty in human society.  This tendency we are all manifesting will lead to a collective catharsis because as a universe we need an eschaton in order to be reborn.  Together we will create the global experience we need to experience.  In exactly the same way that individuals carefully subconsciously select each other because we know the experience we need, so the collective mind of all life is bringing about the experience we all need to share in order to destroy the veil of separation and bring us back to our god.

This brings me to my favourite Australian city, which only exists for two weeks per year; one week over Easter and one week over New Year.  I don't see Confest as a festival so much as a city.  A festival is a temporary distraction from life, an amusement or an entertainment.  Confest, however, can be seen as bringing you intensely into the reality of your life in a deeper and more immediate manner than is usually experienced.  As an "alternative" event, Confest is not an alternative to society at all.  Confest is a city, Confest is what a city can and should be, Confest is practice for what the cities will become, once we have achieved the catharsis that will bring about the manifestation of our joy.  The intensity and delight of this world is available now for those who want it and for those who somehow know that in the years to come they will be ready for the inevitable.

A New Heaven and a New Earth have been promised to us and the city is making it happen.  Thank you, Sydney.