Updated July 06, If sexual assault was treated like any other crime, I might have gone to police that night covered in bruises and DNA evidence. Instead my silence has cost me dearly. Growing up, I was a gymnast.
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This movie is suffused with golden and near-emerald hues, from its very beginning. In narration, it tells of both the lake and the song, a catchy tune made popular by a female vocal group in the era of 78s. In most other respects, the movie comes off like a severely unfocused coming-of-age story. The grandmother seems a hardy old goat, one making vocal opposition to the noisy jet skis and rapacious land development plans overrunning the lake that bears her family name. The movie veers listlessly between the poles of its story, never alighting satisfactorily on any of them. Gold seems most enthusiastic about the record-collector wonk stuff. Just listen!