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Words by Wes Brooke-White (he/him) Wes is a film studies student and cinema employee, and now he's Salient’s resident film bro. Aftersun  (Directed by Charlotte Wells, 101m) 5/5 This debut feature from Charlotte Wells is a triumph of feeling—as visually rich as it is emotionally complex. Child actor Frankie Corio is revelatory as Sophie, and is more than a match for Paul Mescal’s sweetness and wounded masculinity as her dad Callum. It’s a film about fathers and daughters, and the gulf of memory and experience which separates them. We watch Sophie and Callum’s  nuanced relationship at the dreamy, formal distance of someone looking back on a childhood photo. Sophie is as inaccessible to Callum as his younger self. Callum’s inner life, meanwhile, is beyond Sophie’s understanding. Only in retrospect do either of them have the chance to fill in the missing pieces. It’s difficult to describe the full-body experience that Aftersun  entails — the burn of it — because it doesn’t feel real once it’s passed through you. As a sketch of cinema’s power to access the past, it’s inexplicable and essential. You can find it on Google Play, Apple TV, Microsoft, or Neon.   Enys Men  (Directed by Mark Jenkin, 90m) 4.5/5 Enys Men  is haunted. It’s a creepy-cosy chiller from Bait  director Mark Jenkin, one of the most exciting British filmmakers of our time, using its rhythms to build something uniquely terrifying. The film, shot without sound and on lush, vibrant 16mm stock, feels like a found object from a different world. Enys Men  draws heft and texture from its analog sense of place. Structurally, it’s tied to the everyday procedures of a wildlife volunteer observing a flower and taking simple notes. The rituals are almost disarming, until Jenkin turns them against you. If you have the patience for it, Enys Men  is as rewarding a horror experience as I’ve had in years. I’m hoping for an NZ streaming release, but until then, you’ll have to get creative.    John Wick: Chapter 4  (Directed by Chad Stahelski, 170m) 4.5/5 John Wick: Chapter 4  is a non-stop Greatest Hits mixtape of the action canon. Not much of it is novel, but its strength is in how precisely Stahelski and his team arrange the building blocks of familiar iconography. The things we’ve seen done before have never been done better. It’s a brutal collage of old-school physical comedy, martial arts, tactical gunplay, car chases, Westerns, and video games, all captured in delirious colour and light. After an early setpiece where archers fight a demonic SWAT team, the movie never hits pause. Every sequence is made up of a dozen moving parts, all interlocking in perfect, ergonomic zen. The film is badly written (which is good), incomprehensible (which doesn’t matter), and lacks nuance (who cares). If you’ve ever enjoyed an action film, you’ll love this glorious celebration of movement, physicality, and getting kicked down stairs. Rent it from the usual suspects. BlackBerry   (Directed by Matt Johnson, 119m) 4/5 Matt Johnson made a name for himself with his anarchic webseries Nirvana the Band the Show , but his three feature films have skewed darker. BlackBerry , about the smartphone of the same name, sees Johnson take the corporate docudrama formula (think Air  or The Social Network ) and place it somewhere completely new—more specifically, Canada. We’re miles away from operatic Silicon Valley psychodrama, following pathetic characters in dorky offices selling their souls for a doomed product. BlackBerry  goes through the motions of a rags-to-riches story, but as an audience, we know from scene one that the BlackBerry doesn’t end up like Facebook. This is the story of a failure and Johnson uses our foreknowledge of that fact to rob these free-market fantasies of their power. As a director known for gleefully pushing the bounds of corporate copyright, he doesn’t want us cheering for the brand. This is a pitch-black comedy about the joys of the creative process and how capitalism conspires to suck them dry. Until it’s available to stream, ask your CompSci flatmate to burn you a copy.   Rye Lane  (Directed by Raine Allen Miller, 82m) 4/5 The colours and compositions of Rye Lane  put everything else happening in modern rom coms to shame. Dom and Yas have the chemistry these films live or die on, and they have it in spades. Their day-long meet cute takes them across South London as they  confront each other’s pasts and decide what they want from their futures. The dialogue is whip-smart and the cinematography is playful. This film pays respect to a lineage of British screen romance, from Richard Curtis films like Love Actually  to successors like this year’s What’s Love Got to Do With It . But it dumps the nauseatingly upper-class blandness of those movies for something living and breathing. Curtis’ films are about romantic grand gestures, and while Rye Lane  has its share of those, it’s got much more to say about the smaller and more deeply-felt rhythms of getting to know another person. It’s available on Disney Plus.    Things Could Always Be Worse  (Directed by Joel Haver and Trent Lenkarski, 41m) 3.5/5 If you’ve seen Joel Haver’s name before, it was probably underneath one of a hundred short form comedy videos you’ve scrolled past in your YouTube recommendations this week. He’s at the centre of one of the platform’s best-kept secrets: the ‘folk filmmaking’ movement. That is, a loose group of creators who make feature-length movies with no budget and post them for free. Haver’s films are defined by a sense of community and improvisation. Things Could Always Be Worse is a collaboration with his friend Trent, shot entirely during the 2023 Oscars. The movie follows Joel and Trent (as lightly fictionalised versions of themselves) getting trapped in Joel’s bedroom over a long weekend. It’s a tense premise, but the big joke of the whole thing is how relaxed it feels. You spend time with these guys, getting a sense of who they are and why they’re friends. It’s a breezy, funny little picture and a reminder that you don’t need permission to make things with the people you love. Find it on YouTube for zero dollars.  A Thousand and One  (Directed by A.V. Rockwell, 116m) 3.5/5 A.V. Rockwell’s moving, richly-performed melodrama is also a portrait of a vanished Harlem. The film charts the disintegration of a damaged family across a decade, reflected in the systems of state violence which gentrify their city and lock them in cycles of poverty and trauma. The photography is clean, precise, and unsentimental, with a stillness and naturalism that allows a lot of room for the actors to breathe. Newcomer Josiah Cross has a climactic monologue where you can watch decades of little sorrows break across his face like a wave. It’s a story of love’s power to transcend circumstances, but more importantly it’s about people building a life even after that power fails. Find it from your preferred less-than-legal sources.   The 10th Annual ‘On Cinema’ Oscar Special  (Directed by Eric Notarnicola, 210m) 3.5/5 These past 12-ish years, alt comedy legends Tim Heidecker and Gregg Turkington have been busy making On Cinema . It’s a multimedia performance art project, a soap opera, a satire of lazy internet criticism, and a study of two broken men who ruin everything. It’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen online. Each year they pull out all the stops for a special Oscar night broadcast with special guests and shocking twists. Consider this your invitation to start exploring the On Cinema  mythos—from episode one, or, if you’re all about jumping in the deep end, from this 10th anniversary spectacular. On Cinema ’s greatest strength is also its biggest weakness. Individually, the pieces are good, not great, but they achieve greatness by rewiring your brain as you dive deeper. You might love it, you might hate it, but I guarantee it’s the most fun you’ll ever have watching a grown man weep while dressed as Pinnocchio.

Words by Francesca Pietkiewicz (she/they) “Single-use period products are made with plastic, meaning they can take up to 500 years to break down in our landfills. Switch[ing] to period underwear continues to significantly reduce the number of single-use pads and tampons ending up in landfill and waterways.”* - Lena Aziz, AWWA Representative My mum bought me my first pair of period underwear in my last year of high school. They were from the American-owned brand Thinx. When I left home a couple months later, I had misplaced them. Back in 2018, there weren’t any local options that I knew of, and I didn’t have the disposable income to get more pairs of Thinx shipped to my hall bedroom.  I tried a moon cup for a while, wanting to stay on that saving the planet grind. But on every attempt, it popped inside of me like one of those half-circle popper dropper toys from the early 2000s—a sensation I don’t recommend. So I went back to a heavy period’s not-so-sustainable best friend: nighttime maxi pads. As much as I have enjoyed the arrival and accessibility of period underwear from brands such as Libra and U by Kotex on supermarket shelves in the last year or so, I’m looking for a smidgen more out of my period products. I want something comfy, cute, and made to last. I want to support an ethical brand, so plastic, ancient, femme-coded period product brands are really not the go. If I had to choose U by Kotex or Libra though, I’d go for U by Kotex just because they paired up with Thinx to make theirs. Libra has also had numerous transphobic complaints in the past and their period underwear is very much giving pink tax girly (with lace waistbands and their teen line being called ‘Libra Girl’) so not overly inviting or inclusive vibes. For this review, I’m focusing on the Aotearoa-made, wahine Māori-owned period underwear brand: AWWA. (I was gifted AWWA products for this review.) I first noticed AWWA a couple years ago, and was drawn in by how beautiful their products and design were. Here’s the thing with period underwear: it’s boring as shit. I mean, I get it, you’re bleeding through them, so go with black granny panty vibes. But why the hell not make them cute? Am I not allowed cute undies on my period? I’m already crampy, my period underwear should not remind me I’m feeling drab.  That’s not the case with AWWA. They’ve got cute colours, like pink, periwinkle purple, khaki green, and rust orange. They’ve got different styles, from cosy, high-waisted briefs to sexy g-strings and matching bras. They even have boxers, which, as a non-binary person, I found very slay. Periods are a huge reminder of my femininity and the intensity my hormones bring into my life, so a little bit of masc energy for my flow week was hugely welcomed. They also have swimwear! I had just accepted that swimming on my period wasn’t an option. I’m pumped to purchase some AWWA swimwear for my summer awa swims in the Ruamāhanga. Back when I first noticed AWWA, I had just gotten a hormonal IUD and my flow had gone from excessive to almost non-existent. I didn’t feel the need to purchase any undies. But since the recent removal of said IUD, the seven days of heavy bleeding are back, and my AWWA package arrived just in time to support. I got a pair of periwinkle briefs and rust orange boxers and I squealed while opening them. They’re absolutely gorgeous.  I wore the boxers out to the Milktooth, Maiden Name, and Sheboy wonderfully sapphic gig, the perfect setting to be in gender-affirming period care. I don’t usually have the energy or confidence to go out on my period. But I did that night and that’s exactly what AWWA products promote. Why should my period underwear make me feel worse when it could make me feel fun and cool? Skip the supermarket trip your next period and support a local, Māori-owned business. Invest in some AWWA.

“I’ve been in love. And it hurts, doesn’t it? But it doesn’t have to. Love doesn’t have to be bombs and tears and blood…if you’re lucky enough to find somebody that lifts you up even when you don’t deserve it. That’s where the light is. Find somebody who helps you see the light”  - Daisy Jones I’m in love with a band that never existed.  After my second watch of Amazon Prime’s Daisy Jones & The Six , and spending nine hours listening to Taylor Jenkins Reid’s words via the audio book, I gave in to the narrative that this band had once existed and bought their Aurora  album on vinyl. I don’t usually buy merch, nor do I re-watch a whole show from start to finish (and most definitely not within two months of my initial viewing), but what can I say? I’m a moth caught in the sparkling-spangled disco ball glow of it all.  Daisy Jones & The Six  curates a 1970s scene, where the worlds of two tortured artists collide to create a complex creative enigma, ending in their inevitable crash and burn. It’s a multi-faceted love story about connection and redemption, tip-toeing on a tightrope between stardom and sober sanity. Inspired by Fleetwood Mac’s famous Stevie Nicks stint, it’s a take on the psychedelic, Summer of Love-era rock star-cliche, complete with plenty of love, sex, and drugs (as well as some stellar looks, including, of course, a catalogue full of penny lane coats). Aurora , with its lyrical back and forth, mirrors a similar sound and structure to Fleetwood Mac’s conversational, stunner album Rumours .  The novel has received hearty criticism for its structure. It’s laid out like a Rolling Stone  interview, with the characters reflecting on the band’s rise and fall segmented by small sections of narration to aid the flow of the story. Critics will tell you it’s hard to follow, and to that I’d say that’s where it's nuanced beauty lies. I may just be used to reading transcripts, but it was wonderful to experience multiple characters' storytelling. The ‘interviews’ directly respond to each other, letting the reader in on hints as the story flows and unravels between the lines.  I only actually read two chapters via a Kindle free sample before loading up the audio book. It was a wonderful listening experience, but in my opinion, the voice actors of Billy and Graham should have been switched, and the voices for Karen and Simone are completely wrong.  Initially, I was drawn in by the TV show’s tangerine-hued trailer. It featured home-recorded Super 8 clips of Billy and Camila and their sweet, sensual, honeycomb-scented love, cut between scenes of the hardcore crashing between Daisy and Billy and their electric, creative lust. I knew then that this was a story about the complexities, contrasts, and comparisons of love.  The mockumentary, biopic style of Daisy Jones & The Six  finds its true form within the TV show adaptation, with soft, reflective ‘20 years later’ interviews interwoven in perfect harmony with the jaunt and jive 70s present.  Throughout my second watch, my inner teenager was alive. I was both sobbing and scream-singing along at the top of my lungs, with a sense of reckless abandon I thought no longer existed in me. Maybe I’m just a sucker for a good redemption arch, but it’s more than that. This is a story about the different forms that love takes in our lives: soulmates, twin-flames, karmic connections, soul ties, platonic companions, chosen and biological families, passions, purposes, and vices. There are types of love that are good for us, and others that teach us important life lessons. We will never just experience one. Daisy Jones & The Six  communicates how we are all interconnected influences on each other, and it’s up to us to find the light.

1. PARANOÏA, TRUE LOVE, ANGELS  by Christine and the Queens Chris, known as Redcar or Red, has crafted a superbly grandiose and sprawling masterclass with this project. PARANOÏA, TRUE LOVE, ANGELS  explores  grief, love, death, identity, and much more. Inspired by the play Angels in America , Red is bare and raw all throughout the album as he weaves complex stories (à la MCR’s Black Parade ) of introspection against spotlit backdrops of heavy bass and crashing drums. The final product is a lengthy but striking emotional experience that will have your jaw on the floor at multiple points. Listen if you like:  Portishead, The Weeknd, Róisín Murphy, George Michael Genres : Art pop, trip hop, progressive pop, rock opera 2. Gag Order by Kesha The past decade for Kesha has been hellish. She’s been stuck in a vicious cycle of court battles with her label executive and former producer, Dr. Luke. Gag Order^ sees her coming brutally head to head with the tumultuous emotions and trauma she’s had to endure. It’s a gloriously passionate record that sees Kesha at her most vulnerable, but also at her boldest. Gone is the party animal Kesha we all know; the popstar approach is abandoned. In her place is a daring music experimentalist utilising singer-songwriter and avant-pop-isms to accurately express a worn and tired woman who is sick of being silenced. Listen if you like:  James Blake, Bon Iver, Caroline Polachek, Alex G Genres:  Art pop, singer-songwriter, glitch folk, ambient pop 3. Stereo Mind Game  by Daughter The latest offering from Daughter comes six years after their last, but it may well be their best. Meditative and melancholic, Stereo Mind Game  is a bittersweet album about acceptance over emotional situations out of your control. The band captures distance in such an impeccable way across the record, through spacious beds of delicate vocals, airy drums and guitars, and glistening electronics. The listening experience of Stereo Mind Game  is poignant and seamless, with many moments of great emotional resonance to be found. Listen if you like:  Julien Baker, The National, Sigur Rós Genres:  Dream pop, indie rock, post-rock 4. Good Lies  by Overmono Lush and fucking banging is one of the greatest combos you can have on an electronic album, and Overmono have got this in spades. After dominating the live electronic scene for the last couple of years, their debut album presents us with hazy, euphoric, and stimulating beats, interweaving some excellent samples throughout. Good Lies  provides a diverse dance experience that is as atmospheric as it is consistently groovy. Listen if you like : Four Tet, Disclosure, Burial, PinkPantheress Genres : UK bass, future garage, breakbeat, 2-step 5. gisela  by NOIA Quite simply, NOIA’s debut album is spell-binding. gisela  is a hopeful and contemplative listen that evokes a mythological beauty, with its soft glitchiness taking your hand and leading you through a misty sort of psychic terrain. Fusing Spanish, Catalan, Portuguese, and English, NOIA delicately trills over this story of an album, her inward-looking poetry constantly sparking wonder and amazement. It’s beautiful and wholly touching. Listen if you like : Björk, Caroline Polachek, oklou, FKA twigs Genres : Art pop, ambient pop, glitch pop

Words by Joanna Fan (she/her) The following review is unfortunately not about ducks. Written by multi-hyphenate actor-writer- producer (and former lawyer?!) Sam Wang, Skyduck: A Chinese Spy Comedy is the best kind of organised chaos. It's a tightly produced piece of pure adrenaline that drags you through a dizzying rollercoaster of highs and lows, leaving you thinking, ‘Wow, I want Sam Wang to organise my life.’ One man shows are a bit of a hit or miss for me—they’re known for being notoriously difficult to pull off. But Wang creates another challenge for himself: playing seven characters, showcasing four cultures, using three accents, and speaking two languages (three if you count an extra Wuhanese dialect for good measure), all in under 70 minutes. Even still, Wang commands the stage. Through all the chaos, the story is (thankfully) straightforward. Set in the 90s, two Chinese spiespose as cute-panda-shaped-noodle-making-karaoke- machine salesmen on a Japanese reality show. Their plan: to steal American top-secret fighter jet software. Along the way, we are introduced to a wealth ofeccentric caricatures, from a bogan Australian air force commander to an overconfident, Paddlepop-obsessed American secret agent. The most outlandish character is Little Swallow, Agent Yan’s sensual love interest, played by a cushion and a plush toy doll. They both give the performance of a lifetime. Wang’s overt and eye-catching quick costume changes are just part of what makes these characterscome to life. His use of different accents, dialects, and body movements are exceptional—they’re simple but distinct, repeated and always consistent. The seven character line-up is no easy feat, but Wang pulls it off with ease. When I meet up with Wang for an interview, I’m pleasantly surprised by his calm aura and gentle nature. After all, Skyduck has been a 10-year work in progress. I guess you’ve got to maintain composure somehow. But this show hasn’t always been the spectacle I witnessed. Wang tells me that Skyduck had humble beginnings, originating from his solo performance at drama school. Whilst the show has broadened, visually and spatially, he says that the content has largely remained constant. I ask him how he even came up with this idea in the first place. Wang says that he was inspired by a love for reading spy books from authors of different backgrounds, ranging from non-fiction memoirs to investigative journalism. As for the Chinese characters, he was largely influenced by 爱情公寓 (iPartment), a sitcom introduced to Wang by a cousin. He described iPartment to me as a Chinese version of Friends, and I’m going to trust him on that one. I can attest, Wang’s own characters, Agent Yan and Chang, truly did allude to many of the personalities seen on Mainland Chinese sitcoms. For many of the other characters, Wang credits his childhood love of watching Jim Carrey, Mr Bean, and many other Rowan Atkinson characters on screen. If you didn’t think performing seven characters was impressive enough, let me reiterate that Skyduck is a bilingual show. As a fluent(ish) Mandarin speaker myself, I can’t help but admire how seamlessly he switches between both languages. Wang surprises me further by admitting that he left China at age 6, and never learnt to read or write in Chinese. Luckily, his cousins often came to stay in Sydney, where Wang would practice his mother tongue and watch movies in Mandarin with them. He would also like to thank Google Translate. But performing in Mandarin hasn’t come without challenges—when there’s a quiet crowd, Wang can’t help but think to himself, ‘Oh my God I’m dying here!’ Go watch Sam Wang showcase his many talents next time Skyduck comes to town (or if you’re in Sydney soon). And make some noise.

The Loud & Queer showcase was stuffed full with glorious LGBTQIA+ talent from this year’s NZ International Comedy Festival, and enough Best Foods mayonnaise to feed a small army. Equipped with two free comms tickets, I headed to the most vulnerable seat you can take at a live comedy show: second row, dead centre. An audience member getting the shit ripped out of them is, arguably, the most entertaining part of live comedy (if you’re in the back row). So when Sainsbury turned the house lights up mid-way through the first half, my second- row anxiety peaked. Unfortunately, his jokes fell on flat ears, owing to too many straights with free PR tickets in the audience. Thankfully, audience member Sandra stole the show in a runway showdown between four other attendees. Sainsbury better call Houston, because I’m deceased. The first act concluded with Mx. Well, a self-described “hot bitch”, oozing with unapologetic pride. I love me a bit of musical comedy, especially when it gives me a chance to joyfully sing “I’m not friends with Nazi scum!” After an interval, the curtains parted to reveal the Glamaphones, Wellington's very own 60-gay-strong choir. Listening to their rendition of ‘Don’t Tell Mama’ from Cabaret whilst holding my girlfriend’s hand, I couldn’t stop smiling. Following the Glamaphones, we were treated to a lengthy set with Dancing with the Stars level NZ celebrity Eli Matthewson. Matthewson’s jokes landed extremely well—there’s something for everyone in his set. His lines about growing up ‘chrisso’ had me cracking up, while his comparison of coming out in a car (door slamming, amazing dramatic effect) to coming out on an electric bike (I’m gay! Bzzzzzzz) kept me cackling. ‘The Scottish Kiwi’ Ryan McGhee provided something different to the campy set, but I’m not sure his many jokes about driving on Aotearoa roads hit well with a Wellington crowd (hint: they only have their learners licence). The night ended on the highest note possible, with the iconic, live-singing drag queen Nova Starr. The Glamaphones returned to the stage to back her up, providing a powerful, roof-shattering performance of ‘This is Me’ from The Greatest Showman. This showcase was a big, fat, queer celebration, and a big fuck you to TERFs and bigots. Loud & Queer comedy provided a much-needed safe space for pride and for community. I could finally see myself, and the people I loved, reflected in the mayonnaise glaze of the NZ International Comedy Fest. I was prepared for another comedy showcase with one too many millennial jokes, but the Loud & Queer showcase pleasantly surprised me. Maybe all I needed was comedy that wasn’t straight (just like me). The legendary Judy Virago opened the showcase in a stunning, fuchsia, mermaid-skirt gown, and she blessed us with two more costume changes throughout the night. Her co-host, Tom Sainsbury (loved by queers and middle-aged white women alike), warmed up the audience with a skit about arts administrators. Virago and Sainsbury’s years of friendship shone through as they bounced off each other’s unique styles, creating a perfect co-host stage presence. Chills were sent through the collective audience spine by Amanduh la Whore, who performed a powerful lip sync in the first act of the night. While a performer who commands respect, la Whore was not a comedic act, and watching drag while sitting politely in the St James Theatre left me craving the sweaty confines of Ivy Bar. la Whore was followed by Clarissa Chandrahasen, who showcased a delightfully narcissistic comedic style. Her relatable set ranged from quiet quitting to misreading red flags. The show really took off when the iconic Neil Thornton sailed on stage in a unicorn onesie and light-up, pink roller skates. His set was energetic and entertaining, as he argued that New Zealand was possibly ‘too nice to the gays’. Apparently, our small towns and suburbs (ahem, Newtown) are in serious need of some repressed gay gentrification. Undeniably, the show’s highlight was parody sketch duo Jez and Jace, straight from Whanganui’s Got Talent. Cosplaying a bogan farmer and tradie, they wheeled onto the stage on a trike, chugging protein powder. Their set was a hilarious parody of straight masculinity and its repressed sexuality—the comedy I never knew I needed.

Hēmi Daly (he/him) Kāi Tahu (Kāti Makō, Kāti Irakehu) The Government has just introduced a Bill which will make getting project consents easier. The sort of projects which might be consented range from housing, to aquaculture, to mines, and so on. You might be thinking this is a good thing—after all, these projects have the potential to boost our economy, get us houses, key resources, more yummy salmon, etc. You might be right, except for one thing: this new Bill completely destroys any democratic process or chance for meaningful expert input that we had. How does the Bill work? Once projects become eligible for fast-track they go before an expert panel, who will apply relevant consent and permit conditions, with a maximum of 6 months to make the decision. Private lobbyists can make submissions to these panels, but members of the public cannot. Once the expert panel has accepted the project with conditions/declined it/whatever they want to do, the Minister can go with that decision, or he can just do whatever the fuck he wants and ignore what the expert panel says. The lobbyists who are getting the profits can have a say, but if the government wants to put a new mine by your hometown, or a new housing development over the top of your favourite walking track, or a salmon farm up the river from your family whitebaiting spot, you don't get any say in it. If you want to appeal a decision to the courts, the Government can ignore what the courts say and go ahead with it anyway. This isn't just about Māori or greenies hating on the Government. This Bill has the potential to affect literally anyone who interacts with their environment. This is a massive erosion of democracy, and you won't notice it until suddenly you do, and there's nothing you can do about it. If you don't like what this Government does over the next three years, sure, you can vote them out. But remember, a lot of these decisions have permanent consequences. Consenting systems and red tape might be annoying. But they also keep us and our mokopuna safe. Once they plop a mine down on top of your local dairy (obvious hyperbole but who doesn't love their local dairy), it isn't coming back. It might already be too late.  What can you do: Make a submission on the Parliament NZ site (search ‘Fast-track Approvals Bill submissions’ in Google) by Friday 19 April. Sign the Green Party petition ( https://action.greens.org.nz/naturebeforeprofit ) Talk to family and friends about this Bill, especially those who voted for this Government. Remind them that this is an issue that will negatively affect pretty much everyone who isn’t going to directly make millions of dollars off it. Write to your MP. Te Pāti Māori, National, Labour, Greens, ACT, it doesn’t matter, send them an email. Write to Chris Bishop and/or Shane Jones, both of whom did the bulk of the work on this Bill. If you hear about a protest, turn up. Show that we have numbers. When this inevitably gets shunted through Parliament, don’t forget about this. Keep an eye out for the bs and don’t let go. Kia kaha tātau. Hēmi Daly (he/him) Kāi Tahu (Kāti Makō, Kāti Irakehu)