A distinctive coming-of-age drama in the depths of country France
(M, 92 minutes)
4 stars
Before his world abruptly changes, the young man at the heart of this story, set in rural France, is a typical 18-year-old. Mussing up his hair in the mirror, checking out the attractive talent with his best mates, and always one to take on a dare. He was without a care in the world, until the evening at a village fair when his drunken father drove off, crashing his car along the way home on a quiet country road.
What begins for Totone (Clement Faveau) and his single-parent dad in a haze of alcohol and cigarettes on a long, hot day at the fairground ends in low-lit confusion and loss. A distinctive feature of this film, winner of the youth prize for best first feature in "Un Certain Regard" at Cannes, is its naturalism. If we feel empathy for the film's characters, plain-speaking country folks, it is because of their honesty, commitment or underlying good nature.
The film's title derives from the expression "twenty gods", that translates to "holy cow" and certainly conveys a sense of the preposterous. It isn't the only colourful phrase that can be heard along with other local idioms. Something may be lost in translation here, but it seems to underline the authenticity of this lovely film set among dairy farms in the region near the Swiss alps known as the Jura. It is, famously, the home of comté cheese.
The fatal car accident leaves Totone and his little sister alone to fend for themselves. This is difficult to imagine here, but at 18 years of age, Totone is indeed an adult. And the siblings have a home, after all, the family farm. Totone doesn't have much idea of how to manage it, but an awareness of the potential to make a good living gradually dawns on him.
As the filmmaker grew up on a farm like Totone's, Holy Cow is informed by first-hand experience. The Jura is home for the filmmaker, writer-director Louise Courvoisier, and many of the other creatives involved. She brings an authentic sensibility for language and gesture along with a distinctive eye for the cinematic.
Lead actor, Faveau, contributes an interesting mix of vulnerability and aggression to his character, just on the brink of manhood. He works on a poultry farm in real life.
Other members of the cast are locals and first-time actors, while the musical score is a family affair. The beautiful original musical score that complements the landscapes and the life dramas played out on its foreground, was composed and performed by members of the Courvoisier family. With the vibrant exception of the Jimmie Rodgers song Kisses Sweeter Than Wine, heard over a montage of happy snaps of Totone and friends. The romantic sequence features Marie-Lise (Maiwene Barthelemy), the surly, independent young woman running a neighbouring farm, who becomes his lover.
Their relationship doesn't begin at all well. Totone makes out with her while scheming with his mates how to steal her produce. Marie-Lise sends him packing when she realises the ruse, though there may be something between them still.
A round slab of the semi-hard cheese delicacy could win its producer a prize of between 20,000 and 30,000 euros. After fisticuffs with other local lads gets Totone sacked from his cleaning job on a neighbouring farm, he makes it his mission to master making the nutty and complex flavours of comte cheese. Even little sister Claire, played by Luna Garret, looking wise beyond her years, knew he would get fired but she is there to help him when it matters.
The narrative is book-ended with country fairs, events where the locals proudly display their wares and gather for a good time. Into the evening, young people can meet and even find matter-of-fact sex. It's all rather random. The closing attraction is a stock car race in which Jean-Yves (Mathis Bernard), Totone's recently estranged best friend, is participating with his clapped-out vehicle, ready to perform flips and outlast the competition. At least he has his beloved car back.
Like the race of battered warriors of the road, youthful mishaps and mistakes get generous treatment in this lovely film that is a pleasure to watch. Was it outlandish ambition that brought Totone down to earth? Not in this distinctive and often joyous coming-of-age drama from the depths of rural France.
Holy Cow
(M, 92 minutes)
4 stars
Before his world abruptly changes, the young man at the heart of this story, set in rural France, is a typical 18-year-old. Mussing up his hair in the mirror, checking out the attractive talent with his best mates, and always one to take on a dare. He was without a care in the world, until the evening at a village fair when his drunken father drove off, crashing his car along the way home on a quiet country road.
What begins for Totone (Clement Faveau) and his single-parent dad in a haze of alcohol and cigarettes on a long, hot day at the fairground ends in low-lit confusion and loss. A distinctive feature of this film, winner of the youth prize for best first feature in "Un Certain Regard" at Cannes, is its naturalism. If we feel empathy for the film's characters, plain-speaking country folks, it is because of their honesty, commitment or underlying good nature.
The film's title derives from the expression "twenty gods", that translates to "holy cow" and certainly conveys a sense of the preposterous. It isn't the only colourful phrase that can be heard along with other local idioms. Something may be lost in translation here, but it seems to underline the authenticity of this lovely film set among dairy farms in the region near the Swiss alps known as the Jura. It is, famously, the home of comté cheese.
The fatal car accident leaves Totone and his little sister alone to fend for themselves. This is difficult to imagine here, but at 18 years of age, Totone is indeed an adult. And the siblings have a home, after all, the family farm. Totone doesn't have much idea of how to manage it, but an awareness of the potential to make a good living gradually dawns on him.
As the filmmaker grew up on a farm like Totone's, Holy Cow is informed by first-hand experience. The Jura is home for the filmmaker, writer-director Louise Courvoisier, and many of the other creatives involved. She brings an authentic sensibility for language and gesture along with a distinctive eye for the cinematic.
Lead actor, Faveau, contributes an interesting mix of vulnerability and aggression to his character, just on the brink of manhood. He works on a poultry farm in real life.
Other members of the cast are locals and first-time actors, while the musical score is a family affair. The beautiful original musical score that complements the landscapes and the life dramas played out on its foreground, was composed and performed by members of the Courvoisier family. With the vibrant exception of the Jimmie Rodgers song Kisses Sweeter Than Wine, heard over a montage of happy snaps of Totone and friends. The romantic sequence features Marie-Lise (Maiwene Barthelemy), the surly, independent young woman running a neighbouring farm, who becomes his lover.
Their relationship doesn't begin at all well. Totone makes out with her while scheming with his mates how to steal her produce. Marie-Lise sends him packing when she realises the ruse, though there may be something between them still.
A round slab of the semi-hard cheese delicacy could win its producer a prize of between 20,000 and 30,000 euros. After fisticuffs with other local lads gets Totone sacked from his cleaning job on a neighbouring farm, he makes it his mission to master making the nutty and complex flavours of comte cheese. Even little sister Claire, played by Luna Garret, looking wise beyond her years, knew he would get fired but she is there to help him when it matters.
The narrative is book-ended with country fairs, events where the locals proudly display their wares and gather for a good time. Into the evening, young people can meet and even find matter-of-fact sex. It's all rather random. The closing attraction is a stock car race in which Jean-Yves (Mathis Bernard), Totone's recently estranged best friend, is participating with his clapped-out vehicle, ready to perform flips and outlast the competition. At least he has his beloved car back.
Like the race of battered warriors of the road, youthful mishaps and mistakes get generous treatment in this lovely film that is a pleasure to watch. Was it outlandish ambition that brought Totone down to earth? Not in this distinctive and often joyous coming-of-age drama from the depths of rural France.
Holy Cow
(M, 92 minutes)
4 stars
Before his world abruptly changes, the young man at the heart of this story, set in rural France, is a typical 18-year-old. Mussing up his hair in the mirror, checking out the attractive talent with his best mates, and always one to take on a dare. He was without a care in the world, until the evening at a village fair when his drunken father drove off, crashing his car along the way home on a quiet country road.
What begins for Totone (Clement Faveau) and his single-parent dad in a haze of alcohol and cigarettes on a long, hot day at the fairground ends in low-lit confusion and loss. A distinctive feature of this film, winner of the youth prize for best first feature in "Un Certain Regard" at Cannes, is its naturalism. If we feel empathy for the film's characters, plain-speaking country folks, it is because of their honesty, commitment or underlying good nature.
The film's title derives from the expression "twenty gods", that translates to "holy cow" and certainly conveys a sense of the preposterous. It isn't the only colourful phrase that can be heard along with other local idioms. Something may be lost in translation here, but it seems to underline the authenticity of this lovely film set among dairy farms in the region near the Swiss alps known as the Jura. It is, famously, the home of comté cheese.
The fatal car accident leaves Totone and his little sister alone to fend for themselves. This is difficult to imagine here, but at 18 years of age, Totone is indeed an adult. And the siblings have a home, after all, the family farm. Totone doesn't have much idea of how to manage it, but an awareness of the potential to make a good living gradually dawns on him.
As the filmmaker grew up on a farm like Totone's, Holy Cow is informed by first-hand experience. The Jura is home for the filmmaker, writer-director Louise Courvoisier, and many of the other creatives involved. She brings an authentic sensibility for language and gesture along with a distinctive eye for the cinematic.
Lead actor, Faveau, contributes an interesting mix of vulnerability and aggression to his character, just on the brink of manhood. He works on a poultry farm in real life.
Other members of the cast are locals and first-time actors, while the musical score is a family affair. The beautiful original musical score that complements the landscapes and the life dramas played out on its foreground, was composed and performed by members of the Courvoisier family. With the vibrant exception of the Jimmie Rodgers song Kisses Sweeter Than Wine, heard over a montage of happy snaps of Totone and friends. The romantic sequence features Marie-Lise (Maiwene Barthelemy), the surly, independent young woman running a neighbouring farm, who becomes his lover.
Their relationship doesn't begin at all well. Totone makes out with her while scheming with his mates how to steal her produce. Marie-Lise sends him packing when she realises the ruse, though there may be something between them still.
A round slab of the semi-hard cheese delicacy could win its producer a prize of between 20,000 and 30,000 euros. After fisticuffs with other local lads gets Totone sacked from his cleaning job on a neighbouring farm, he makes it his mission to master making the nutty and complex flavours of comte cheese. Even little sister Claire, played by Luna Garret, looking wise beyond her years, knew he would get fired but she is there to help him when it matters.
The narrative is book-ended with country fairs, events where the locals proudly display their wares and gather for a good time. Into the evening, young people can meet and even find matter-of-fact sex. It's all rather random. The closing attraction is a stock car race in which Jean-Yves (Mathis Bernard), Totone's recently estranged best friend, is participating with his clapped-out vehicle, ready to perform flips and outlast the competition. At least he has his beloved car back.
Like the race of battered warriors of the road, youthful mishaps and mistakes get generous treatment in this lovely film that is a pleasure to watch. Was it outlandish ambition that brought Totone down to earth? Not in this distinctive and often joyous coming-of-age drama from the depths of rural France.
Holy Cow
(M, 92 minutes)
4 stars
Before his world abruptly changes, the young man at the heart of this story, set in rural France, is a typical 18-year-old. Mussing up his hair in the mirror, checking out the attractive talent with his best mates, and always one to take on a dare. He was without a care in the world, until the evening at a village fair when his drunken father drove off, crashing his car along the way home on a quiet country road.
What begins for Totone (Clement Faveau) and his single-parent dad in a haze of alcohol and cigarettes on a long, hot day at the fairground ends in low-lit confusion and loss. A distinctive feature of this film, winner of the youth prize for best first feature in "Un Certain Regard" at Cannes, is its naturalism. If we feel empathy for the film's characters, plain-speaking country folks, it is because of their honesty, commitment or underlying good nature.
The film's title derives from the expression "twenty gods", that translates to "holy cow" and certainly conveys a sense of the preposterous. It isn't the only colourful phrase that can be heard along with other local idioms. Something may be lost in translation here, but it seems to underline the authenticity of this lovely film set among dairy farms in the region near the Swiss alps known as the Jura. It is, famously, the home of comté cheese.
The fatal car accident leaves Totone and his little sister alone to fend for themselves. This is difficult to imagine here, but at 18 years of age, Totone is indeed an adult. And the siblings have a home, after all, the family farm. Totone doesn't have much idea of how to manage it, but an awareness of the potential to make a good living gradually dawns on him.
As the filmmaker grew up on a farm like Totone's, Holy Cow is informed by first-hand experience. The Jura is home for the filmmaker, writer-director Louise Courvoisier, and many of the other creatives involved. She brings an authentic sensibility for language and gesture along with a distinctive eye for the cinematic.
Lead actor, Faveau, contributes an interesting mix of vulnerability and aggression to his character, just on the brink of manhood. He works on a poultry farm in real life.
Other members of the cast are locals and first-time actors, while the musical score is a family affair. The beautiful original musical score that complements the landscapes and the life dramas played out on its foreground, was composed and performed by members of the Courvoisier family. With the vibrant exception of the Jimmie Rodgers song Kisses Sweeter Than Wine, heard over a montage of happy snaps of Totone and friends. The romantic sequence features Marie-Lise (Maiwene Barthelemy), the surly, independent young woman running a neighbouring farm, who becomes his lover.
Their relationship doesn't begin at all well. Totone makes out with her while scheming with his mates how to steal her produce. Marie-Lise sends him packing when she realises the ruse, though there may be something between them still.
A round slab of the semi-hard cheese delicacy could win its producer a prize of between 20,000 and 30,000 euros. After fisticuffs with other local lads gets Totone sacked from his cleaning job on a neighbouring farm, he makes it his mission to master making the nutty and complex flavours of comte cheese. Even little sister Claire, played by Luna Garret, looking wise beyond her years, knew he would get fired but she is there to help him when it matters.
The narrative is book-ended with country fairs, events where the locals proudly display their wares and gather for a good time. Into the evening, young people can meet and even find matter-of-fact sex. It's all rather random. The closing attraction is a stock car race in which Jean-Yves (Mathis Bernard), Totone's recently estranged best friend, is participating with his clapped-out vehicle, ready to perform flips and outlast the competition. At least he has his beloved car back.
Like the race of battered warriors of the road, youthful mishaps and mistakes get generous treatment in this lovely film that is a pleasure to watch. Was it outlandish ambition that brought Totone down to earth? Not in this distinctive and often joyous coming-of-age drama from the depths of rural France.
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16 hours ago
- The Advertiser
Can a bus full of Greta Thunbergs save the planet? Damon Gameau hopes so
"The Future Council will see you now." A sharp-dressed CEO steps forward into the light to present his corporation's plan. "We're thinking about drilling for more oil and gas." There's a pause as members of the council seated in front of him glance at each other. One gives an eyeroll. Then they all burst out laughing. The Future Council members are all children. Welcome to the Future Council, a documentary that strives to imagine a totally different way of doing things for kids worried about the future of the planet. The 80-minute film follows eight children travelling across Europe in a bright yellow, vegetable oil-powered school bus to better understand the climate crisis. Director Damon Gameau (That Sugar Film) leads the children, including Ruby Rodgers the granddaughter of singer Jimmy Barnes, on their handsomely filmed excursion through spectacular widescreen landscapes. His film features funny fantasy sequences like the imagined all-powerful council of kids and fantastical visual effects to depict the complicated way the world - aka the global economy - currently works. It also confronts the viewer with upsetting moments of these bright and charming children in tears as they are asked to talk about their fears for the future ("we're doomed," says one). The children also meet adults in positions of power at big corporations. They suggest ideas, ask questions and express their anger. "You are not a powerful leader, you are a disgrace," Skye Neville, a Welsh teenager, tells Nestle's global head of public affairs at the food and beverage giant's Swiss HQ. Gameau, whose 2019 documentary 2040 also drilled into environmental awareness, recently spoke about his provocative new film, which is screening in cinemas from August 7, and the actual child-led Future Council it is launching. This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity. JJ: You took me on quite a journey with this film. I started off feeling quite angry about what you were doing to these kids. I felt upset for them - that they were being asked to take all this on when they are just kids. By the end, there is some hope, inspiration, ideas and energy, which is great. But my first question is, are the kids alright? DG: I think that's the biggest question we can ask collectively right now. Are our kids OK? And I don't think they are. I think we need to be honest. They're not OK because we're not doing anywhere near enough. This generation is watching the ocean and the waterways fill up with plastic. They are watching the evisceration of nature. And they're feeling it. They're the generation that has to live in that world and the point of the film is to let their voices be heard because we haven't wanted to listen to them. Many adults will say they are just children, that we know what's best and we impose our own childhoods onto those children. What I learnt doing 2024 and taking it around the world, visiting classrooms, was that these children have access to far more information than any other generation in history and a lot of them know far more than a lot about adults do, particularly around sustainability. And they're so passionate about it. So, this film is trying to bridge that gap. We don't want these kids to solve the problem. The adults have to step up there. We don't want these children to have to understand the complexities of the system and geopolitics. What the children bring is this refreshing creativity, which absolutely we could do with. They also bring a bloody morality - and a morality that's really missing from the system right now. So many of our leaders and big corporations are acting psychopathically because that's what the system allows: short-term thinking, maximum extraction. And the children get to say 'Hang on, where's the humanity in all this? How are we considering humans in this big system that's just marching forward'. I didn't know what to expect as I watched the auditions - we had 1300 children apply. But I was just bowled over by their acumen and how switched on and how passionate they were. And I thought, you know what, maybe this is a moment in history when they do, and should, have a proper voice. Not just protesting on the streets - because that gets them shut down. How else can we get these kids together as a network so they can alleviate some of their anxiety and feel like they're actually contributing? Let's get them heard by some of these leaders and find a way to unleash their creativity. JJ: Are you saying that it's fantasy or defensive or denial from grown-ups to say: can the kids just please be allowed to be kids? Can't they have their childhood and not have to worry about this stuff until maybe they have actual agency in their lives? Instead of being in tears at age 10, don't they deserve their innocence, their chance to not have to worry? DG: Yeah, but we've got to ask why they're crying? Why is there a child crying at 10? And it's because that child goes and cleans up the plastic from her beach every single Sunday. She started a beach pick-up club but she's watching the plastic get more and more and no one in her government or community is giving a shit like she does and she doesn't understand. If we were doing our jobs and looking after the planet they wouldn't be feeling this way. I'm with you. I wish we were not in this situation and so do these children. But unfortunately adults aren't stepping up so they feel they have to because that's the future they're going to inherit. I still speak to the kids most weeks now and they're all doing well. None of them are obsessed with trying to fix all the things wrong with the planet themselves. They've got lots of other interests. They just also care about this stuff. But I'm with you. I think, gosh, it'd be great if kids didn't have to go through this. JJ: But my heart breaks for Skye, who is so angry. At her age, doesn't she deserve to not have that anger? DG: Yeah, you're right. She does. But she's in a village, Fairbourne, that's about to go under the water - the first one in the Western world because of climate. So, that's why she's angry - because she's losing her home and no one cares. So we can't say 'Skye, it's fine, don't worry about it'. No, no, it's so real to her because she's losing her home and that's why she's got that fire in her belly. It's difficult. We can't ask her just to stop because she's fighting for something bigger than we understand. JJ: But when [Aussie eco-activist] Clover Hogan tells the kids "eco-anxiety is a really healthy response" - that stabbed me. I understand the statement, maybe, as a philosophical perspective. But is it healthy for a 10-year-old? DG: As they discuss in the film, if you're not feeling something right now ask yourself a question. When you look at the dehumanising going on the world; when you look at how much nature we're losing; when you look at the pollution and the algal bloom that's killing sea creatures in South Australia - if you're not feeling some kind of emotion, where are you at? How disconnected are you actually with the living world? So, there are so many complex discussions to have and that's the point of the film. Let's have a proper conversation because children are feeling things more deeply than maybe a few more adults should be. JJ: I'm not sure I will be alone in my initial reaction against the film. I don't want to give in completely to my inner Sky News After Dark voice, but there's an impulse to say 'Just leave the kids alone, let them be kids, stop turning them all into Greta Thunberg'. I think we'd prefer for our kids to be like the boy from Norfolk Island [Hiva] who just cherishes birds and wants to take photos of them. DG: I appreciate you sharing your honesty because, as you know, in so many of these calls people - even if they are feeling that way - they just tiptoe through. But these are conversations we need to be having so thanks for being honest. The whole point of the Future Council for the child is that we partner you with organisations and companies so you can help, so you can design products, start to shape your own future so you don't feel hopeless and are crying all the time and feeling that there's nothing left for your future. How do we bring together all these children around the world that are feeling like this and network them so they can meet the right people to get action and feel like they're doing something? I get it. The reactive response - the Sky News response - is to go 'But the children!' JJ: Won't somebody please think of the children? DG: [Laughs] Yeah, exactly - but that's exactly what I would say back. JJ: I started off feeling angry and upset seeing these kids feeling this angry and upset. Like when we see kids take a day off school to wave placards. They haven't had to make adult decisions yet - like holding down a job or having to buy groceries that only come in plastic packaging - they're kids. DG: The kids in the film do come to realise that there are some really good humans who care about the planet and who have children and who are working in these massive corporations. So, perhaps the Greta bolshie approach isn't actually the only way to do this. We need to humanise this and also work from within to solve these problems because, you know what, let's be honest, activism hasn't really worked. I mean, we're eating more meat than ever despite veganism, we're spraying more chemicals than ever despite 'silent spring'. It can't be the only way. We have to do things differently. JJ: What do you hope the film achieves? Is it about getting more kids picking up plastic at the beach, which everyone should do of course? Or is it bigger than individual action? DG: We don't want this to be just a film. We want this to go bigger. We want to invite other children in, which has happened already. We have set them up as a child-led organisation where the adults are obviously doing all the governance and guiding them but a lot of the decisions are coming from them. So we've got board members, we've got a COO, it's set up as a not-for-profit and we're starting to work with companies. We're doing a trial at the moment with Officeworks, for example, so the children are actually going in and working with Officeworks to help design the most sustainable backpacks and pencil cases and stationery to use in school. They have a tangible outcome that translates their grief into action. The council then takes a clip of the profits and it goes into a fund and the kids allocate that to nature repair projects around the world. So, the idea is that we are doing that with 50 companies a year from now as we take the film around Australia and Europe and America over the coming months. Really, the film is a small part of it. It's just the recruitment piece and our screenings in Australia have already had 50 kids sign up because they do feel a bit of hope. They want to meet other kids like them and they want to do something. We're setting up a network for the children so they feel like they are contributing to their own future instead of protesting on the streets. JJ: Obviously parents of children up to a certain age are the gatekeepers for watching this film. And maybe schools and teachers. What's the message to parents who might be scared off, not wanting their kids to feel upset or angry or powerless? DG: I guess that's the feeling some parents will have too. Like the previous films I've done, I want to create a space for the family to go and watch and have these feelings together and then talk about it when they get home. We know that some kids are completely oblivious to this stuff. But I reckon there's seven or eight kids in every classroom around the world right now that feel pretty strongly about it but they feel like they're the weirdo or ostracised. This film is the chance to let your child know that they can be heard, that there are other kids like them and there are things they can do. They don't have to just sit in this despair or get overwhelmed by this anxiety - they can join up with other kids and start to take action. JJ: Can you have a crack at social media next? You just said that some kids are oblivious to what's going on with the environment and that's probably the reason! DG: [Laughs] You're not the first person who's asked me that. But you're right. It's clearly a major issue. People are taking this very seriously now thankfully. JJ: The Australian government, to its credit, is giving it a crack. It was impressive to hear the new Communications Minister Anika Wells say "We want kids to know who they are before platforms assume who they are". DG: Yes, that was a great line. And this would be a rare thing in the world right now - actually getting bipartisan support. It's a very uniting issue - and we don't have many of those! So, the seed is planted. Someone asked me years ago to do this after That Sugar Film but I just baulked because it was already bad enough going to dinner parties and everyone would hide dessert. But if I then did something about phones and social media? I'm not going to get invited anywhere! My life's over! "The Future Council will see you now." A sharp-dressed CEO steps forward into the light to present his corporation's plan. "We're thinking about drilling for more oil and gas." There's a pause as members of the council seated in front of him glance at each other. One gives an eyeroll. Then they all burst out laughing. The Future Council members are all children. Welcome to the Future Council, a documentary that strives to imagine a totally different way of doing things for kids worried about the future of the planet. The 80-minute film follows eight children travelling across Europe in a bright yellow, vegetable oil-powered school bus to better understand the climate crisis. Director Damon Gameau (That Sugar Film) leads the children, including Ruby Rodgers the granddaughter of singer Jimmy Barnes, on their handsomely filmed excursion through spectacular widescreen landscapes. His film features funny fantasy sequences like the imagined all-powerful council of kids and fantastical visual effects to depict the complicated way the world - aka the global economy - currently works. It also confronts the viewer with upsetting moments of these bright and charming children in tears as they are asked to talk about their fears for the future ("we're doomed," says one). The children also meet adults in positions of power at big corporations. They suggest ideas, ask questions and express their anger. "You are not a powerful leader, you are a disgrace," Skye Neville, a Welsh teenager, tells Nestle's global head of public affairs at the food and beverage giant's Swiss HQ. Gameau, whose 2019 documentary 2040 also drilled into environmental awareness, recently spoke about his provocative new film, which is screening in cinemas from August 7, and the actual child-led Future Council it is launching. This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity. JJ: You took me on quite a journey with this film. I started off feeling quite angry about what you were doing to these kids. I felt upset for them - that they were being asked to take all this on when they are just kids. By the end, there is some hope, inspiration, ideas and energy, which is great. But my first question is, are the kids alright? DG: I think that's the biggest question we can ask collectively right now. Are our kids OK? And I don't think they are. I think we need to be honest. They're not OK because we're not doing anywhere near enough. This generation is watching the ocean and the waterways fill up with plastic. They are watching the evisceration of nature. And they're feeling it. They're the generation that has to live in that world and the point of the film is to let their voices be heard because we haven't wanted to listen to them. Many adults will say they are just children, that we know what's best and we impose our own childhoods onto those children. What I learnt doing 2024 and taking it around the world, visiting classrooms, was that these children have access to far more information than any other generation in history and a lot of them know far more than a lot about adults do, particularly around sustainability. And they're so passionate about it. So, this film is trying to bridge that gap. We don't want these kids to solve the problem. The adults have to step up there. We don't want these children to have to understand the complexities of the system and geopolitics. What the children bring is this refreshing creativity, which absolutely we could do with. They also bring a bloody morality - and a morality that's really missing from the system right now. So many of our leaders and big corporations are acting psychopathically because that's what the system allows: short-term thinking, maximum extraction. And the children get to say 'Hang on, where's the humanity in all this? How are we considering humans in this big system that's just marching forward'. I didn't know what to expect as I watched the auditions - we had 1300 children apply. But I was just bowled over by their acumen and how switched on and how passionate they were. And I thought, you know what, maybe this is a moment in history when they do, and should, have a proper voice. Not just protesting on the streets - because that gets them shut down. How else can we get these kids together as a network so they can alleviate some of their anxiety and feel like they're actually contributing? Let's get them heard by some of these leaders and find a way to unleash their creativity. JJ: Are you saying that it's fantasy or defensive or denial from grown-ups to say: can the kids just please be allowed to be kids? Can't they have their childhood and not have to worry about this stuff until maybe they have actual agency in their lives? Instead of being in tears at age 10, don't they deserve their innocence, their chance to not have to worry? DG: Yeah, but we've got to ask why they're crying? Why is there a child crying at 10? And it's because that child goes and cleans up the plastic from her beach every single Sunday. She started a beach pick-up club but she's watching the plastic get more and more and no one in her government or community is giving a shit like she does and she doesn't understand. If we were doing our jobs and looking after the planet they wouldn't be feeling this way. I'm with you. I wish we were not in this situation and so do these children. But unfortunately adults aren't stepping up so they feel they have to because that's the future they're going to inherit. I still speak to the kids most weeks now and they're all doing well. None of them are obsessed with trying to fix all the things wrong with the planet themselves. They've got lots of other interests. They just also care about this stuff. But I'm with you. I think, gosh, it'd be great if kids didn't have to go through this. JJ: But my heart breaks for Skye, who is so angry. At her age, doesn't she deserve to not have that anger? DG: Yeah, you're right. She does. But she's in a village, Fairbourne, that's about to go under the water - the first one in the Western world because of climate. So, that's why she's angry - because she's losing her home and no one cares. So we can't say 'Skye, it's fine, don't worry about it'. No, no, it's so real to her because she's losing her home and that's why she's got that fire in her belly. It's difficult. We can't ask her just to stop because she's fighting for something bigger than we understand. JJ: But when [Aussie eco-activist] Clover Hogan tells the kids "eco-anxiety is a really healthy response" - that stabbed me. I understand the statement, maybe, as a philosophical perspective. But is it healthy for a 10-year-old? DG: As they discuss in the film, if you're not feeling something right now ask yourself a question. When you look at the dehumanising going on the world; when you look at how much nature we're losing; when you look at the pollution and the algal bloom that's killing sea creatures in South Australia - if you're not feeling some kind of emotion, where are you at? How disconnected are you actually with the living world? So, there are so many complex discussions to have and that's the point of the film. Let's have a proper conversation because children are feeling things more deeply than maybe a few more adults should be. JJ: I'm not sure I will be alone in my initial reaction against the film. I don't want to give in completely to my inner Sky News After Dark voice, but there's an impulse to say 'Just leave the kids alone, let them be kids, stop turning them all into Greta Thunberg'. I think we'd prefer for our kids to be like the boy from Norfolk Island [Hiva] who just cherishes birds and wants to take photos of them. DG: I appreciate you sharing your honesty because, as you know, in so many of these calls people - even if they are feeling that way - they just tiptoe through. But these are conversations we need to be having so thanks for being honest. The whole point of the Future Council for the child is that we partner you with organisations and companies so you can help, so you can design products, start to shape your own future so you don't feel hopeless and are crying all the time and feeling that there's nothing left for your future. How do we bring together all these children around the world that are feeling like this and network them so they can meet the right people to get action and feel like they're doing something? I get it. The reactive response - the Sky News response - is to go 'But the children!' JJ: Won't somebody please think of the children? DG: [Laughs] Yeah, exactly - but that's exactly what I would say back. JJ: I started off feeling angry and upset seeing these kids feeling this angry and upset. Like when we see kids take a day off school to wave placards. They haven't had to make adult decisions yet - like holding down a job or having to buy groceries that only come in plastic packaging - they're kids. DG: The kids in the film do come to realise that there are some really good humans who care about the planet and who have children and who are working in these massive corporations. So, perhaps the Greta bolshie approach isn't actually the only way to do this. We need to humanise this and also work from within to solve these problems because, you know what, let's be honest, activism hasn't really worked. I mean, we're eating more meat than ever despite veganism, we're spraying more chemicals than ever despite 'silent spring'. It can't be the only way. We have to do things differently. JJ: What do you hope the film achieves? Is it about getting more kids picking up plastic at the beach, which everyone should do of course? Or is it bigger than individual action? DG: We don't want this to be just a film. We want this to go bigger. We want to invite other children in, which has happened already. We have set them up as a child-led organisation where the adults are obviously doing all the governance and guiding them but a lot of the decisions are coming from them. So we've got board members, we've got a COO, it's set up as a not-for-profit and we're starting to work with companies. We're doing a trial at the moment with Officeworks, for example, so the children are actually going in and working with Officeworks to help design the most sustainable backpacks and pencil cases and stationery to use in school. They have a tangible outcome that translates their grief into action. The council then takes a clip of the profits and it goes into a fund and the kids allocate that to nature repair projects around the world. So, the idea is that we are doing that with 50 companies a year from now as we take the film around Australia and Europe and America over the coming months. Really, the film is a small part of it. It's just the recruitment piece and our screenings in Australia have already had 50 kids sign up because they do feel a bit of hope. They want to meet other kids like them and they want to do something. We're setting up a network for the children so they feel like they are contributing to their own future instead of protesting on the streets. JJ: Obviously parents of children up to a certain age are the gatekeepers for watching this film. And maybe schools and teachers. What's the message to parents who might be scared off, not wanting their kids to feel upset or angry or powerless? DG: I guess that's the feeling some parents will have too. Like the previous films I've done, I want to create a space for the family to go and watch and have these feelings together and then talk about it when they get home. We know that some kids are completely oblivious to this stuff. But I reckon there's seven or eight kids in every classroom around the world right now that feel pretty strongly about it but they feel like they're the weirdo or ostracised. This film is the chance to let your child know that they can be heard, that there are other kids like them and there are things they can do. They don't have to just sit in this despair or get overwhelmed by this anxiety - they can join up with other kids and start to take action. JJ: Can you have a crack at social media next? You just said that some kids are oblivious to what's going on with the environment and that's probably the reason! DG: [Laughs] You're not the first person who's asked me that. But you're right. It's clearly a major issue. People are taking this very seriously now thankfully. JJ: The Australian government, to its credit, is giving it a crack. It was impressive to hear the new Communications Minister Anika Wells say "We want kids to know who they are before platforms assume who they are". DG: Yes, that was a great line. And this would be a rare thing in the world right now - actually getting bipartisan support. It's a very uniting issue - and we don't have many of those! So, the seed is planted. Someone asked me years ago to do this after That Sugar Film but I just baulked because it was already bad enough going to dinner parties and everyone would hide dessert. But if I then did something about phones and social media? I'm not going to get invited anywhere! My life's over! "The Future Council will see you now." A sharp-dressed CEO steps forward into the light to present his corporation's plan. "We're thinking about drilling for more oil and gas." There's a pause as members of the council seated in front of him glance at each other. One gives an eyeroll. Then they all burst out laughing. The Future Council members are all children. Welcome to the Future Council, a documentary that strives to imagine a totally different way of doing things for kids worried about the future of the planet. The 80-minute film follows eight children travelling across Europe in a bright yellow, vegetable oil-powered school bus to better understand the climate crisis. Director Damon Gameau (That Sugar Film) leads the children, including Ruby Rodgers the granddaughter of singer Jimmy Barnes, on their handsomely filmed excursion through spectacular widescreen landscapes. His film features funny fantasy sequences like the imagined all-powerful council of kids and fantastical visual effects to depict the complicated way the world - aka the global economy - currently works. It also confronts the viewer with upsetting moments of these bright and charming children in tears as they are asked to talk about their fears for the future ("we're doomed," says one). The children also meet adults in positions of power at big corporations. They suggest ideas, ask questions and express their anger. "You are not a powerful leader, you are a disgrace," Skye Neville, a Welsh teenager, tells Nestle's global head of public affairs at the food and beverage giant's Swiss HQ. Gameau, whose 2019 documentary 2040 also drilled into environmental awareness, recently spoke about his provocative new film, which is screening in cinemas from August 7, and the actual child-led Future Council it is launching. This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity. JJ: You took me on quite a journey with this film. I started off feeling quite angry about what you were doing to these kids. I felt upset for them - that they were being asked to take all this on when they are just kids. By the end, there is some hope, inspiration, ideas and energy, which is great. But my first question is, are the kids alright? DG: I think that's the biggest question we can ask collectively right now. Are our kids OK? And I don't think they are. I think we need to be honest. They're not OK because we're not doing anywhere near enough. This generation is watching the ocean and the waterways fill up with plastic. They are watching the evisceration of nature. And they're feeling it. They're the generation that has to live in that world and the point of the film is to let their voices be heard because we haven't wanted to listen to them. Many adults will say they are just children, that we know what's best and we impose our own childhoods onto those children. What I learnt doing 2024 and taking it around the world, visiting classrooms, was that these children have access to far more information than any other generation in history and a lot of them know far more than a lot about adults do, particularly around sustainability. And they're so passionate about it. So, this film is trying to bridge that gap. We don't want these kids to solve the problem. The adults have to step up there. We don't want these children to have to understand the complexities of the system and geopolitics. What the children bring is this refreshing creativity, which absolutely we could do with. They also bring a bloody morality - and a morality that's really missing from the system right now. So many of our leaders and big corporations are acting psychopathically because that's what the system allows: short-term thinking, maximum extraction. And the children get to say 'Hang on, where's the humanity in all this? How are we considering humans in this big system that's just marching forward'. I didn't know what to expect as I watched the auditions - we had 1300 children apply. But I was just bowled over by their acumen and how switched on and how passionate they were. And I thought, you know what, maybe this is a moment in history when they do, and should, have a proper voice. Not just protesting on the streets - because that gets them shut down. How else can we get these kids together as a network so they can alleviate some of their anxiety and feel like they're actually contributing? Let's get them heard by some of these leaders and find a way to unleash their creativity. JJ: Are you saying that it's fantasy or defensive or denial from grown-ups to say: can the kids just please be allowed to be kids? Can't they have their childhood and not have to worry about this stuff until maybe they have actual agency in their lives? Instead of being in tears at age 10, don't they deserve their innocence, their chance to not have to worry? DG: Yeah, but we've got to ask why they're crying? Why is there a child crying at 10? And it's because that child goes and cleans up the plastic from her beach every single Sunday. She started a beach pick-up club but she's watching the plastic get more and more and no one in her government or community is giving a shit like she does and she doesn't understand. If we were doing our jobs and looking after the planet they wouldn't be feeling this way. I'm with you. I wish we were not in this situation and so do these children. But unfortunately adults aren't stepping up so they feel they have to because that's the future they're going to inherit. I still speak to the kids most weeks now and they're all doing well. None of them are obsessed with trying to fix all the things wrong with the planet themselves. They've got lots of other interests. They just also care about this stuff. But I'm with you. I think, gosh, it'd be great if kids didn't have to go through this. JJ: But my heart breaks for Skye, who is so angry. At her age, doesn't she deserve to not have that anger? DG: Yeah, you're right. She does. But she's in a village, Fairbourne, that's about to go under the water - the first one in the Western world because of climate. So, that's why she's angry - because she's losing her home and no one cares. So we can't say 'Skye, it's fine, don't worry about it'. No, no, it's so real to her because she's losing her home and that's why she's got that fire in her belly. It's difficult. We can't ask her just to stop because she's fighting for something bigger than we understand. JJ: But when [Aussie eco-activist] Clover Hogan tells the kids "eco-anxiety is a really healthy response" - that stabbed me. I understand the statement, maybe, as a philosophical perspective. But is it healthy for a 10-year-old? DG: As they discuss in the film, if you're not feeling something right now ask yourself a question. When you look at the dehumanising going on the world; when you look at how much nature we're losing; when you look at the pollution and the algal bloom that's killing sea creatures in South Australia - if you're not feeling some kind of emotion, where are you at? How disconnected are you actually with the living world? So, there are so many complex discussions to have and that's the point of the film. Let's have a proper conversation because children are feeling things more deeply than maybe a few more adults should be. JJ: I'm not sure I will be alone in my initial reaction against the film. I don't want to give in completely to my inner Sky News After Dark voice, but there's an impulse to say 'Just leave the kids alone, let them be kids, stop turning them all into Greta Thunberg'. I think we'd prefer for our kids to be like the boy from Norfolk Island [Hiva] who just cherishes birds and wants to take photos of them. DG: I appreciate you sharing your honesty because, as you know, in so many of these calls people - even if they are feeling that way - they just tiptoe through. But these are conversations we need to be having so thanks for being honest. The whole point of the Future Council for the child is that we partner you with organisations and companies so you can help, so you can design products, start to shape your own future so you don't feel hopeless and are crying all the time and feeling that there's nothing left for your future. How do we bring together all these children around the world that are feeling like this and network them so they can meet the right people to get action and feel like they're doing something? I get it. The reactive response - the Sky News response - is to go 'But the children!' JJ: Won't somebody please think of the children? DG: [Laughs] Yeah, exactly - but that's exactly what I would say back. JJ: I started off feeling angry and upset seeing these kids feeling this angry and upset. Like when we see kids take a day off school to wave placards. They haven't had to make adult decisions yet - like holding down a job or having to buy groceries that only come in plastic packaging - they're kids. DG: The kids in the film do come to realise that there are some really good humans who care about the planet and who have children and who are working in these massive corporations. So, perhaps the Greta bolshie approach isn't actually the only way to do this. We need to humanise this and also work from within to solve these problems because, you know what, let's be honest, activism hasn't really worked. I mean, we're eating more meat than ever despite veganism, we're spraying more chemicals than ever despite 'silent spring'. It can't be the only way. We have to do things differently. JJ: What do you hope the film achieves? Is it about getting more kids picking up plastic at the beach, which everyone should do of course? Or is it bigger than individual action? DG: We don't want this to be just a film. We want this to go bigger. We want to invite other children in, which has happened already. We have set them up as a child-led organisation where the adults are obviously doing all the governance and guiding them but a lot of the decisions are coming from them. So we've got board members, we've got a COO, it's set up as a not-for-profit and we're starting to work with companies. We're doing a trial at the moment with Officeworks, for example, so the children are actually going in and working with Officeworks to help design the most sustainable backpacks and pencil cases and stationery to use in school. They have a tangible outcome that translates their grief into action. The council then takes a clip of the profits and it goes into a fund and the kids allocate that to nature repair projects around the world. So, the idea is that we are doing that with 50 companies a year from now as we take the film around Australia and Europe and America over the coming months. Really, the film is a small part of it. It's just the recruitment piece and our screenings in Australia have already had 50 kids sign up because they do feel a bit of hope. They want to meet other kids like them and they want to do something. We're setting up a network for the children so they feel like they are contributing to their own future instead of protesting on the streets. JJ: Obviously parents of children up to a certain age are the gatekeepers for watching this film. And maybe schools and teachers. What's the message to parents who might be scared off, not wanting their kids to feel upset or angry or powerless? DG: I guess that's the feeling some parents will have too. Like the previous films I've done, I want to create a space for the family to go and watch and have these feelings together and then talk about it when they get home. We know that some kids are completely oblivious to this stuff. But I reckon there's seven or eight kids in every classroom around the world right now that feel pretty strongly about it but they feel like they're the weirdo or ostracised. This film is the chance to let your child know that they can be heard, that there are other kids like them and there are things they can do. They don't have to just sit in this despair or get overwhelmed by this anxiety - they can join up with other kids and start to take action. JJ: Can you have a crack at social media next? You just said that some kids are oblivious to what's going on with the environment and that's probably the reason! DG: [Laughs] You're not the first person who's asked me that. But you're right. It's clearly a major issue. People are taking this very seriously now thankfully. JJ: The Australian government, to its credit, is giving it a crack. It was impressive to hear the new Communications Minister Anika Wells say "We want kids to know who they are before platforms assume who they are". DG: Yes, that was a great line. And this would be a rare thing in the world right now - actually getting bipartisan support. It's a very uniting issue - and we don't have many of those! So, the seed is planted. Someone asked me years ago to do this after That Sugar Film but I just baulked because it was already bad enough going to dinner parties and everyone would hide dessert. But if I then did something about phones and social media? I'm not going to get invited anywhere! My life's over! "The Future Council will see you now." A sharp-dressed CEO steps forward into the light to present his corporation's plan. "We're thinking about drilling for more oil and gas." There's a pause as members of the council seated in front of him glance at each other. One gives an eyeroll. Then they all burst out laughing. The Future Council members are all children. Welcome to the Future Council, a documentary that strives to imagine a totally different way of doing things for kids worried about the future of the planet. The 80-minute film follows eight children travelling across Europe in a bright yellow, vegetable oil-powered school bus to better understand the climate crisis. Director Damon Gameau (That Sugar Film) leads the children, including Ruby Rodgers the granddaughter of singer Jimmy Barnes, on their handsomely filmed excursion through spectacular widescreen landscapes. His film features funny fantasy sequences like the imagined all-powerful council of kids and fantastical visual effects to depict the complicated way the world - aka the global economy - currently works. It also confronts the viewer with upsetting moments of these bright and charming children in tears as they are asked to talk about their fears for the future ("we're doomed," says one). The children also meet adults in positions of power at big corporations. They suggest ideas, ask questions and express their anger. "You are not a powerful leader, you are a disgrace," Skye Neville, a Welsh teenager, tells Nestle's global head of public affairs at the food and beverage giant's Swiss HQ. Gameau, whose 2019 documentary 2040 also drilled into environmental awareness, recently spoke about his provocative new film, which is screening in cinemas from August 7, and the actual child-led Future Council it is launching. This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity. JJ: You took me on quite a journey with this film. I started off feeling quite angry about what you were doing to these kids. I felt upset for them - that they were being asked to take all this on when they are just kids. By the end, there is some hope, inspiration, ideas and energy, which is great. But my first question is, are the kids alright? DG: I think that's the biggest question we can ask collectively right now. Are our kids OK? And I don't think they are. I think we need to be honest. They're not OK because we're not doing anywhere near enough. This generation is watching the ocean and the waterways fill up with plastic. They are watching the evisceration of nature. And they're feeling it. They're the generation that has to live in that world and the point of the film is to let their voices be heard because we haven't wanted to listen to them. Many adults will say they are just children, that we know what's best and we impose our own childhoods onto those children. What I learnt doing 2024 and taking it around the world, visiting classrooms, was that these children have access to far more information than any other generation in history and a lot of them know far more than a lot about adults do, particularly around sustainability. And they're so passionate about it. So, this film is trying to bridge that gap. We don't want these kids to solve the problem. The adults have to step up there. We don't want these children to have to understand the complexities of the system and geopolitics. What the children bring is this refreshing creativity, which absolutely we could do with. They also bring a bloody morality - and a morality that's really missing from the system right now. So many of our leaders and big corporations are acting psychopathically because that's what the system allows: short-term thinking, maximum extraction. And the children get to say 'Hang on, where's the humanity in all this? How are we considering humans in this big system that's just marching forward'. I didn't know what to expect as I watched the auditions - we had 1300 children apply. But I was just bowled over by their acumen and how switched on and how passionate they were. And I thought, you know what, maybe this is a moment in history when they do, and should, have a proper voice. Not just protesting on the streets - because that gets them shut down. How else can we get these kids together as a network so they can alleviate some of their anxiety and feel like they're actually contributing? Let's get them heard by some of these leaders and find a way to unleash their creativity. JJ: Are you saying that it's fantasy or defensive or denial from grown-ups to say: can the kids just please be allowed to be kids? Can't they have their childhood and not have to worry about this stuff until maybe they have actual agency in their lives? Instead of being in tears at age 10, don't they deserve their innocence, their chance to not have to worry? DG: Yeah, but we've got to ask why they're crying? Why is there a child crying at 10? And it's because that child goes and cleans up the plastic from her beach every single Sunday. She started a beach pick-up club but she's watching the plastic get more and more and no one in her government or community is giving a shit like she does and she doesn't understand. If we were doing our jobs and looking after the planet they wouldn't be feeling this way. I'm with you. I wish we were not in this situation and so do these children. But unfortunately adults aren't stepping up so they feel they have to because that's the future they're going to inherit. I still speak to the kids most weeks now and they're all doing well. None of them are obsessed with trying to fix all the things wrong with the planet themselves. They've got lots of other interests. They just also care about this stuff. But I'm with you. I think, gosh, it'd be great if kids didn't have to go through this. JJ: But my heart breaks for Skye, who is so angry. At her age, doesn't she deserve to not have that anger? DG: Yeah, you're right. She does. But she's in a village, Fairbourne, that's about to go under the water - the first one in the Western world because of climate. So, that's why she's angry - because she's losing her home and no one cares. So we can't say 'Skye, it's fine, don't worry about it'. No, no, it's so real to her because she's losing her home and that's why she's got that fire in her belly. It's difficult. We can't ask her just to stop because she's fighting for something bigger than we understand. JJ: But when [Aussie eco-activist] Clover Hogan tells the kids "eco-anxiety is a really healthy response" - that stabbed me. I understand the statement, maybe, as a philosophical perspective. But is it healthy for a 10-year-old? DG: As they discuss in the film, if you're not feeling something right now ask yourself a question. When you look at the dehumanising going on the world; when you look at how much nature we're losing; when you look at the pollution and the algal bloom that's killing sea creatures in South Australia - if you're not feeling some kind of emotion, where are you at? How disconnected are you actually with the living world? So, there are so many complex discussions to have and that's the point of the film. Let's have a proper conversation because children are feeling things more deeply than maybe a few more adults should be. JJ: I'm not sure I will be alone in my initial reaction against the film. I don't want to give in completely to my inner Sky News After Dark voice, but there's an impulse to say 'Just leave the kids alone, let them be kids, stop turning them all into Greta Thunberg'. I think we'd prefer for our kids to be like the boy from Norfolk Island [Hiva] who just cherishes birds and wants to take photos of them. DG: I appreciate you sharing your honesty because, as you know, in so many of these calls people - even if they are feeling that way - they just tiptoe through. But these are conversations we need to be having so thanks for being honest. The whole point of the Future Council for the child is that we partner you with organisations and companies so you can help, so you can design products, start to shape your own future so you don't feel hopeless and are crying all the time and feeling that there's nothing left for your future. How do we bring together all these children around the world that are feeling like this and network them so they can meet the right people to get action and feel like they're doing something? I get it. The reactive response - the Sky News response - is to go 'But the children!' JJ: Won't somebody please think of the children? DG: [Laughs] Yeah, exactly - but that's exactly what I would say back. JJ: I started off feeling angry and upset seeing these kids feeling this angry and upset. Like when we see kids take a day off school to wave placards. They haven't had to make adult decisions yet - like holding down a job or having to buy groceries that only come in plastic packaging - they're kids. DG: The kids in the film do come to realise that there are some really good humans who care about the planet and who have children and who are working in these massive corporations. So, perhaps the Greta bolshie approach isn't actually the only way to do this. We need to humanise this and also work from within to solve these problems because, you know what, let's be honest, activism hasn't really worked. I mean, we're eating more meat than ever despite veganism, we're spraying more chemicals than ever despite 'silent spring'. It can't be the only way. We have to do things differently. JJ: What do you hope the film achieves? Is it about getting more kids picking up plastic at the beach, which everyone should do of course? Or is it bigger than individual action? DG: We don't want this to be just a film. We want this to go bigger. We want to invite other children in, which has happened already. We have set them up as a child-led organisation where the adults are obviously doing all the governance and guiding them but a lot of the decisions are coming from them. So we've got board members, we've got a COO, it's set up as a not-for-profit and we're starting to work with companies. We're doing a trial at the moment with Officeworks, for example, so the children are actually going in and working with Officeworks to help design the most sustainable backpacks and pencil cases and stationery to use in school. They have a tangible outcome that translates their grief into action. The council then takes a clip of the profits and it goes into a fund and the kids allocate that to nature repair projects around the world. So, the idea is that we are doing that with 50 companies a year from now as we take the film around Australia and Europe and America over the coming months. Really, the film is a small part of it. It's just the recruitment piece and our screenings in Australia have already had 50 kids sign up because they do feel a bit of hope. They want to meet other kids like them and they want to do something. We're setting up a network for the children so they feel like they are contributing to their own future instead of protesting on the streets. JJ: Obviously parents of children up to a certain age are the gatekeepers for watching this film. And maybe schools and teachers. What's the message to parents who might be scared off, not wanting their kids to feel upset or angry or powerless? DG: I guess that's the feeling some parents will have too. Like the previous films I've done, I want to create a space for the family to go and watch and have these feelings together and then talk about it when they get home. We know that some kids are completely oblivious to this stuff. But I reckon there's seven or eight kids in every classroom around the world right now that feel pretty strongly about it but they feel like they're the weirdo or ostracised. This film is the chance to let your child know that they can be heard, that there are other kids like them and there are things they can do. They don't have to just sit in this despair or get overwhelmed by this anxiety - they can join up with other kids and start to take action. JJ: Can you have a crack at social media next? You just said that some kids are oblivious to what's going on with the environment and that's probably the reason! DG: [Laughs] You're not the first person who's asked me that. But you're right. It's clearly a major issue. People are taking this very seriously now thankfully. JJ: The Australian government, to its credit, is giving it a crack. It was impressive to hear the new Communications Minister Anika Wells say "We want kids to know who they are before platforms assume who they are". DG: Yes, that was a great line. And this would be a rare thing in the world right now - actually getting bipartisan support. It's a very uniting issue - and we don't have many of those! So, the seed is planted. Someone asked me years ago to do this after That Sugar Film but I just baulked because it was already bad enough going to dinner parties and everyone would hide dessert. But if I then did something about phones and social media? I'm not going to get invited anywhere! My life's over!
The Advertiser
3 days ago
- The Advertiser
History, culture celebrated at 25th Garma festival
What began as a backyard barbecue and a "jam session" now attracts thousands of people to one of Australia's most remote regions each year. It has been 25 years since the annual Garma Festival's humble beginnings, and the Yothu Yindi Foundation, which organises the event in northeast Arnhem Land, is paying homage to those who started it. "This year is a real acknowledgement and a proper nod to the Yunupingu brothers who had some pretty large ideas for the Garma Festival," Youthu Yindi Foundation chief executive Denise Bowden told AAP. "Many of us had some catching up to do when we realised what they had created because now it's a nationally iconic event attracting 3500 people each year to a very remote location." The location is the culturally significant ceremonial grounds of Gulkula, where each year art, song, bunggul (dance) and storytelling are showcased. Garma has become an important policy forum, with Prime Minister Anthony Albanese, Indigenous Affairs Minister Malarndirri McCarthy and other politicians slated to speak at the four-day festival. These talks co-exist with discussions of culture, education and other significant issues for First Nations people. Ms Bowden said the 2025 Garma theme "rom ga waŋa wataŋu", or "the law of the land, standing firm", reflected the Yolngu fight for empowerment and land rights. The most recent example of this fight was in March, when the High Court upheld a Federal Court decision that found the Gumatj clan's Country in northeast Arnhem Land was not acquired "on just terms" before being leased to the Swiss-Australian mining consortium Nabalco in 1968. The late Gumatj leader Dr Yunupingu brought the case in 2019, alongside an application for native title on behalf of his clan. "A lot of cultural elements and deeply ingrained beliefs of culture still exist here," Ms Bowden said. "You hear it in the language, you hear it in the songs, you hear it in the dance and the law of the land." Garma Festival runs until Monday. What began as a backyard barbecue and a "jam session" now attracts thousands of people to one of Australia's most remote regions each year. It has been 25 years since the annual Garma Festival's humble beginnings, and the Yothu Yindi Foundation, which organises the event in northeast Arnhem Land, is paying homage to those who started it. "This year is a real acknowledgement and a proper nod to the Yunupingu brothers who had some pretty large ideas for the Garma Festival," Youthu Yindi Foundation chief executive Denise Bowden told AAP. "Many of us had some catching up to do when we realised what they had created because now it's a nationally iconic event attracting 3500 people each year to a very remote location." The location is the culturally significant ceremonial grounds of Gulkula, where each year art, song, bunggul (dance) and storytelling are showcased. Garma has become an important policy forum, with Prime Minister Anthony Albanese, Indigenous Affairs Minister Malarndirri McCarthy and other politicians slated to speak at the four-day festival. These talks co-exist with discussions of culture, education and other significant issues for First Nations people. Ms Bowden said the 2025 Garma theme "rom ga waŋa wataŋu", or "the law of the land, standing firm", reflected the Yolngu fight for empowerment and land rights. The most recent example of this fight was in March, when the High Court upheld a Federal Court decision that found the Gumatj clan's Country in northeast Arnhem Land was not acquired "on just terms" before being leased to the Swiss-Australian mining consortium Nabalco in 1968. The late Gumatj leader Dr Yunupingu brought the case in 2019, alongside an application for native title on behalf of his clan. "A lot of cultural elements and deeply ingrained beliefs of culture still exist here," Ms Bowden said. "You hear it in the language, you hear it in the songs, you hear it in the dance and the law of the land." Garma Festival runs until Monday. What began as a backyard barbecue and a "jam session" now attracts thousands of people to one of Australia's most remote regions each year. It has been 25 years since the annual Garma Festival's humble beginnings, and the Yothu Yindi Foundation, which organises the event in northeast Arnhem Land, is paying homage to those who started it. "This year is a real acknowledgement and a proper nod to the Yunupingu brothers who had some pretty large ideas for the Garma Festival," Youthu Yindi Foundation chief executive Denise Bowden told AAP. "Many of us had some catching up to do when we realised what they had created because now it's a nationally iconic event attracting 3500 people each year to a very remote location." The location is the culturally significant ceremonial grounds of Gulkula, where each year art, song, bunggul (dance) and storytelling are showcased. Garma has become an important policy forum, with Prime Minister Anthony Albanese, Indigenous Affairs Minister Malarndirri McCarthy and other politicians slated to speak at the four-day festival. These talks co-exist with discussions of culture, education and other significant issues for First Nations people. Ms Bowden said the 2025 Garma theme "rom ga waŋa wataŋu", or "the law of the land, standing firm", reflected the Yolngu fight for empowerment and land rights. The most recent example of this fight was in March, when the High Court upheld a Federal Court decision that found the Gumatj clan's Country in northeast Arnhem Land was not acquired "on just terms" before being leased to the Swiss-Australian mining consortium Nabalco in 1968. The late Gumatj leader Dr Yunupingu brought the case in 2019, alongside an application for native title on behalf of his clan. "A lot of cultural elements and deeply ingrained beliefs of culture still exist here," Ms Bowden said. "You hear it in the language, you hear it in the songs, you hear it in the dance and the law of the land." Garma Festival runs until Monday. What began as a backyard barbecue and a "jam session" now attracts thousands of people to one of Australia's most remote regions each year. It has been 25 years since the annual Garma Festival's humble beginnings, and the Yothu Yindi Foundation, which organises the event in northeast Arnhem Land, is paying homage to those who started it. "This year is a real acknowledgement and a proper nod to the Yunupingu brothers who had some pretty large ideas for the Garma Festival," Youthu Yindi Foundation chief executive Denise Bowden told AAP. "Many of us had some catching up to do when we realised what they had created because now it's a nationally iconic event attracting 3500 people each year to a very remote location." The location is the culturally significant ceremonial grounds of Gulkula, where each year art, song, bunggul (dance) and storytelling are showcased. Garma has become an important policy forum, with Prime Minister Anthony Albanese, Indigenous Affairs Minister Malarndirri McCarthy and other politicians slated to speak at the four-day festival. These talks co-exist with discussions of culture, education and other significant issues for First Nations people. Ms Bowden said the 2025 Garma theme "rom ga waŋa wataŋu", or "the law of the land, standing firm", reflected the Yolngu fight for empowerment and land rights. The most recent example of this fight was in March, when the High Court upheld a Federal Court decision that found the Gumatj clan's Country in northeast Arnhem Land was not acquired "on just terms" before being leased to the Swiss-Australian mining consortium Nabalco in 1968. The late Gumatj leader Dr Yunupingu brought the case in 2019, alongside an application for native title on behalf of his clan. "A lot of cultural elements and deeply ingrained beliefs of culture still exist here," Ms Bowden said. "You hear it in the language, you hear it in the songs, you hear it in the dance and the law of the land." Garma Festival runs until Monday.
Perth Now
3 days ago
- Perth Now
History, culture celebrated at 25th Garma festival
What began as a backyard barbecue and a "jam session" now attracts thousands of people to one of Australia's most remote regions each year. It has been 25 years since the annual Garma Festival's humble beginnings, and the Yothu Yindi Foundation, which organises the event in northeast Arnhem Land, is paying homage to those who started it. "This year is a real acknowledgement and a proper nod to the Yunupingu brothers who had some pretty large ideas for the Garma Festival," Youthu Yindi Foundation chief executive Denise Bowden told AAP. "Many of us had some catching up to do when we realised what they had created because now it's a nationally iconic event attracting 3500 people each year to a very remote location." The location is the culturally significant ceremonial grounds of Gulkula, where each year art, song, bunggul (dance) and storytelling are showcased. Garma has become an important policy forum, with Prime Minister Anthony Albanese, Indigenous Affairs Minister Malarndirri McCarthy and other politicians slated to speak at the four-day festival. These talks co-exist with discussions of culture, education and other significant issues for First Nations people. Ms Bowden said the 2025 Garma theme "rom ga waŋa wataŋu", or "the law of the land, standing firm", reflected the Yolngu fight for empowerment and land rights. The most recent example of this fight was in March, when the High Court upheld a Federal Court decision that found the Gumatj clan's Country in northeast Arnhem Land was not acquired "on just terms" before being leased to the Swiss-Australian mining consortium Nabalco in 1968. The late Gumatj leader Dr Yunupingu brought the case in 2019, alongside an application for native title on behalf of his clan. "A lot of cultural elements and deeply ingrained beliefs of culture still exist here," Ms Bowden said. "You hear it in the language, you hear it in the songs, you hear it in the dance and the law of the land." Garma Festival runs until Monday.
