On an island off the Queensland coast for a week, with dark worn timber floors, low couches, bamboo matting on the walls, watching the films of this, the master of making the same film over and over. Intricate dramas of choice in marriage. Whether to marry or not. The same actors over and over. The camera always at bartop height, peering upwards at characters. The viewpoint of an old man sitting in a deckchair. The sense akin to peering through a glass bottomed boat into a submerged world where rituals of today are performed alongside rituals of an extinct time. 'Autumn Afternoon'. 'Floating Weeds'. 'End of Summer'. 'Early Spring'. 'Late Spring'. 'Late Autumn'. 'Early Summer'. Only 'Equinox Flower' seemed a slight dip, or of less interest, the lack of familiar faces combined with the centreless story, but a petty quibble for this the most satisfying and consistent of directors. 'Floating Weeds' being the favourite by a nose, with its satisfying symbol of the drama troupe as the film-crew and their flat performances as the cinema screen, the audience bored but immobile.