"The World to Come": A Stunning Period Romance
Mona Fastvold’s nineteenth century lesbian romance is emotionally charged, restrained, and poetic without feeling forced.

On October 17, 1961, 30,000 Algerians demonstrated peacefully in Paris to protest the discriminatory curfew imposed upon them and to demand Algerian independence. Under the authority of the then Prefect of Police, Maurice Papon, the demonstration was brutally repressed, resulting in the deaths of dozens of Algerians. Historians cite eleven thousand arrests, dozens of murders, demonstrators thrown into the Seine, hundreds of expulsions, and just as many complaints that went unanswered; all for a night that would become a blind spot in the national narrative. No investigation, no trial, and certainly no commemoration. The day after the demonstration, Jacques Panijel began filming *October in Paris* to alert the public to the massacre that had just taken place in the streets of Paris. The film was banned by the French authorities. It obtained a distribution license in 1973. It was first shown in theaters in October 2011.
Mona Fastvold’s nineteenth century lesbian romance is emotionally charged, restrained, and poetic without feeling forced.
Documented human suffering is never easy to view or read about and is understandably triggering for many people, but it can be educational, and education is a key to change. An overwhelming amount queer people worldwide (and in my own country) have it far worse than I could imagine, and documentaries such as Welcome to Chechnya bring issues to light that certain groups of people would never see.
The May Incluvie Movie Highlights features 3 fantastic coming-of-age films. We explore butterfly-inducing Sneakerella and Crush, and the sadly timely feature - The Fallout, about the after-effects of a school shooting.
The quiet ache of guilt sitting at the dinner table, the silence after a truth is buried, and the way pain is passed down like a name.
Like most young people, Leviticus is imperfect. But I love it anyways.
Can a piece of bad representation truly be reclaimed? We Are Pat (2025) attempts to answer this question.