“I knew that it was a very unsexy idea,” says John Wilson. “But I thought it was an ace in the hole. Just because it’s arguably the most relatable subject matter that you could possibly think of. Other than making a movie about water or skin.” Wilson is telling me this sitting in a windowless backstage room in a Copenhagen theatre – “in interview jail”, as he describes it – moments before his debut feature film will screen to a rapturous sellout crowd at the documentaryhellip;

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