#music-documentary

#music-documentary

Being able to share this moment globally with my fans, who can experience this together in a movie theater, is more special than I can put into words,

Critic Waldemar Januszczak begins a docu-trilogy on art's most controversial topics with a blisteringly explicit, absolute hoot of a look at sex. What our reviewer said No amount of jackhammering antique buttocks can muffle your gasps of gratitude that there is still, in 2025, a place where Januszczak's brand of factual entertainment considered, accessible, unapologetically adult is allowed to exist. Sarah Dempster Read the full review

One of the cruelest tricks played on the North American women's movement is the way the caricatures, over time, have edged out reality: the ritualized bra burnings ( never happened), the batik hemp dresses (not since the 1970s), the strictly enforced misandry (only on holidays). With regard to Lilith Fair, the late-'90s touring festival of female artists co-founded by Sarah McLachlan, so many jokes were made about "bi-level" haircuts and juice tents and "Lesbopalooza" that the purpose and power of Lilith have largely been relegated to the archives. "I just recently discovered there was an all-female music festival from 1997 to 1999, and I am shook to my core," a young woman exclaimed on TikTok two years ago, prompting consternation from Millennial and Gen X elders at the loss of some of our crucial cultural herstory.

But much like the Coral's music, there's an eccentric, unpretentious charm to this film. Visually, it is an imaginative collage of childhood photos and lo-fi animation mixed with archive footage and home movies. There are no modern-day talking heads, only voiceover narration and the fact that we lose track of which band member is talking kind of fits with their collective ethos.

It's difficult because it's our story, and it was a difficult one because when you come from tough enough beginnings, and I was never very academic.