I wonder if Gillian Armstrong realised the commitment she was taking on when she began documenting the lives of three teens from Adelaide in the 70s.
Last night a group of us (women all) went to the Nova to catch up with her latest instalment for this documentary - Loves, lust and lies . It was a late session and we shared the cinema with another group of women. At the end of our voyeuristic journey, we sat and talked, still in our cinema seats, while the group behind us did likewise. Finally we turned around and the discussion group expanded as we put forward our opinions about the women on screen whose lives were we picking over like scavengers over a carcass.
Is it just women who feel the need to poke and prod and turn things inside out? Or are we just more vocal about it?
The film has stayed with me today as I wonder where to from here for those three women and their families. Good films are like good books, they stay with you beyond