Sutton Grange Films

The assemblage of sound and images illuminates the context of Gurrumul's lyrics. There is hospitality in this, a privilege to experience, which the standing ovation at the close of the evening acknowledges. The juxtaposition of images – the dancing of tribal lore with the orchestra, occasionally glancing up to smile ruefully at their own intercut amplified images – powerfully suggests the traditions Gurrumul's work bridges.

Felicity Plunkett The Guardian

Neither distractingly artful nor documentary-dry, the footage has all the looseness and warmth of a home video, showing men, women, teens and toddlers of the Gumatj nation dancing, singing and sometimes just clowning around. Because the famously shy singer speaks little English, his friend and bass player Michael Hohnen usually introduces his songs. Tonight, however, introductions come directly from Gurrumul's “aunties and uncles”, interviewed individually on their land. They talk straight to camera, tasked with the difficult role of translating not just language but aspects of their culture that are presented with deceptive simplicity in Gurrumul's lullaby-like songs. A beautiful thing occurs. As they intently try to explain, and we intently try to understand, any gaps in comprehension that remain are closed by a mutual resolve to make the exchange work. An aunty tells us Gurrumul is special because he was born “covered with rainbow” and, as he begins singing, his voice just lightly caressed by violins, her words are proved true.

Kate Hennessey Sydney Morning Herald