What begins as an interesting, methodical meditation on this elderly couple and their farm, invaded by the suspenseful threat of this duplicitous man, becomes a rote thriller that repeats scenes ad nauseam.
Author: Harry Gay
Where there’s a will there’s a way, and where there’s a pub there’s a railway.
It is absurd that USyd has been kept out of arm’s reach from railway stations for so long, especially considering UTS’ close proximity to Central, or UNSW having their very own light rail stop.
Whistleblowers at Pizza Hut HQ have leaked documents that reveal a hidden clause in the application process for casual staff members.
I am still left perplexed when a book cover so beautiful is tossed aside for very little reason at all. At the end of the day, it will always come back to the same axiom: why fix it, if it ain’t broke?
The website is fascinating, and since users are able to upload anything they want, it becomes an insane collection of prestige films rubbing shoulders with absolute dog crap.
The French Film Festival returns for another year.
Some may wonder why Sydney’s last video rental store mattered in the age of streaming. But for Sydney’s film enthusiasts it was a haven of long-lost cult classics and community.
For the Mardi Gras Film Festival, the erasure of the human subject is a liberatory act of universalising the queer experience
Street libraries are bastions of free knowledge in a world of paywalls and alternative facts.
