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The 32-year-old has accepted her role but her lawyer, Murugan Thangaraj SC, on Monday argued her “notorious” father also played a part.

The court heard she had succumbed to pressure from her father when she falsified documents for a $150m construction loan.

The NSW Independent Commission Against Corruption (Icac) is currently investigating allegations that NSW Liberal powerbrokers took a $2m payment from Jean Nassif in breach of the NSW Electoral Funding Act.

Nassif, now 58, had offered to appear at Icac on Friday via video link but produced a medical certificate to excuse himself. He fled Australia for rural Lebanon in 2022 and has previously denied wrongdoing.

On Monday, judge Christopher Halburd sentenced Ashlyn to a six-month community corrections order without supervision, saying “this defendant is not some sort of proxy for her father”.

“The defendant before the court is not Jean Nassif, she has not been charged and sentenced today in relation to the vast array of things apparently her father has done, and that needs to be borne in mind.”

Halburd accepted the argument of Ashlyn’s lawyer that “if she hadn’t been under the sway of her father she never would have committed an offence at all”.

Halburd said Ashlyn Nassif had a major depressive disorder that was present at the time of the offending.

The 32-year-old, who was in court with a number of supporters, sobbed when her sentence was handed down.

Thangaraj told Burwood local court on Monday that Jeran’s ex-wife had described experiencing a decade of coercive control and outlined how this was consistent with the way he treated his daughter.

Jean Nassif would tell his daughter to lose weight, get weight-reducing surgery or cosmetic surgery so “she could look better and he could show her off”, the lawyer told the court.

She was “hardly the glamorous heiress as portrayed,” Thangaraj said.

Her father – who was the head of failed construction firm Toplace – is being pursued by NSW police after a two-year fraud investigation.

A warrant has been issued for his arrest and 57 companies linked with Toplace are in administration.

“How any person could leave their child to face charges like this for his company’s benefit – to make her fend for herself, to sell per property for her legal fees … what does that say about who he is,” Thangaraj told the court.

Before his departure, Jean Nassif told his daughter he was “desperate” for the Westpac loan, her lawyer said in court.

“If she wasn’t working for him or if he wasn’t her father, she would never have committed this offence.”

The prosecution argued Ashlyn Nassif knew the purchasers and contractors at Toplace did not meet the definition of an “at arm’s length” transaction. The defence had disputed that. %!s()

Now, 20 years after the film’s release, we are treated to mother Coppola’s gorgeously assembled archival documentary, a project she and her daughter started in earnest during the early days of the Covid lockdown, and that Sofia finished upon her mom’s passing in 2024. (She and Aaron Matthews share editing credits.) Full of love throughout its compact runtime — love for art, filmmaking, beauty and, most of all, that between a mother and daughter — “Making Marie Antoinette” feels like the ultimate making-of movie, a creative artifact and a near-term historical record that grasps what it feels like to be seen and admired through the eyes of a proud parent. There is something sweetly nostalgic about watching this affectionate documentary, and sensing that Sofia always knows when her mom is around, like a kid who glances back to make sure that her parent is watching before she goes on to put her talents on display.

Often accompanied by Eleanor’s diary entries — tenderly read by Diane Lane with maternal affection and self-introspection, like we’re being let in on a secret — “Making Marie Antoinette” not only portrays Sofia’s filmmaking panache, but it also opens a window into two generations of women raised by distinctive values. “Sofia’s generation is different,” Eleanor muses, acknowledging that her daughter’s age group values both family and career aspirations. She admits to having set her own interests aside when she was, at her daughter’s age, a mother of three, wondering why she didn’t have more creative endeavors of her own in addition to observing the achievements of her family.

She feels, of course, immense pride as a direct result of those choices, like when her daughter won the Academy Award for “Lost in Translation” and thanked her mother for always encouraging her to make art. Still, you hear the inquisitive voice of someone who considers whether she should have stayed in the periphery as much. On the one hand, her perspective gave us other brilliant works like “Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse” (1991), the documentary, co-directed by Eleanor, that trailed the eventful production of her husband’s “Apocalypse Now.” But on the other, should it have taken her until 2016 to make her narrative debut, “Paris Can Wait,” a milestone she achieved at 80, primarily with Sofia’s encouragement? “My husband and daughter are directors. And I became the audience,” Lane reads.

These internal thoughts flow elegantly throughout the film while Eleanor admires the outstanding work of costume designer Milena Canonero, which includes 72 unique gowns designed for lead actress Kirsten Dunst; she remains in awe of the craftsmanship and dedication of all departments, from the daily washing and powdering of countless wigs, to color-coded set design and actually edible food pairings often entombed in jiggly gelatin.

A self-professed shy person who does her best to stay out of the way (“Making documentaries goes against my nature,” she explains), Eleanor understatedly captures every opulent detail around her, sometimes intimately and sometimes at a respectful distance, occasionally getting some on-camera remarks from both Sofia and the cast. In one scene, Dunst candidly considers her own coming-of-age as a young Hollywood star as it relates to the themes of the movie, remembering how it felt to know that everyone had opinions and judgments about her. “I see why Sofia relates to the story, too,” the then 24-year-old actress says. In other moments, we get to hang out with a witty Rose Byrne, listen in as Jason Schwartzman plays upbeat riffs on an old-fashioned organ, and witness an elongated rehearsal where leads and extras learn how to bow, 18th century-style.

Every now and then, other Coppolas appear in the frame, like Sofia’s brother Roman who directs second unit and puts his sister at ease, while her father, Francis Ford Coppola, has advice at the ready: “Throw a Marie Antoinette party and invite everyone to it. Do it the way you want to do.” That party is vibrant and alive most of the time, except when Eleanor’s spirited camera catches main cast members taking little power naps, or yawning and stretching to get their second wind.

Cozy and infinitely watchable, “Making Marie Antoinette” is a Coppola family affair end to end, with Eleanor’s unique motherly perspective being the film’s eyes and beating heart. In one scene, her diary entries reminisce about a very little Sofia, pretending to play director and yelling cut at her dad’s “Apocalypse Now” set, now making her own period piece and claiming her own spot in a still largely male-dominated industry. “My daughter is directing it with clarity, grace, and her own hip approach to history,” Eleanor muses in her diary, considering the time-bending nature of filmmaking that allows one to move forwards and backwards in linear history. Her documentary is caressed by that same mysterious quality, bottling fleeting moments in time with awe-inspiring care. %!s()

Chiara, her first child, had been diagnosed with a hole in her heart during a 20-week scan. Since then, Cacciacarro’s pregnancy had been classed as high risk and the growth of her baby had been regularly monitored in hospital.

But when a 34-week scan revealed Chiara had lost weight over the previous two weeks, maternity staff at Worthing hospital in Sussex did not make a plan to expedite her birth, which was planned to take place at 39 weeks.

On the day Cacciacarro woke up and realised Chiara was not moving, she rushed to the hospital, which is run by University hospitals Sussex NHS foundation trust.

Staff were unable to find the baby’s heartbeat and Chiara was delivered stillborn. “I’ve never felt so devastated and so crushed,” Cacciacarro said. “Your world turns upside down and suddenly it’s black.”

She is among the bereaved parents who will give evidence at a major independent review into maternity and neonatal services in Sussex, led by the senior midwife Donna Ockenden.

The review launched on Saturday with a public meeting in Brighton after months of campaigning by bereaved Sussex families. In February, a joint investigation between the New Statesman and the BBC revealed the deaths of at least 55 babies might have been avoidable if they and their mothers had received better care from University hospitals Sussex.

Ockenden, an expert on maternity safety, led the landmark review into maternity care at Shrewsbury and Telford and another into maternity services at Nottingham University hospitals NHS trust. She is also chairing a review into maternity and neonatal services at two Leeds hospitals.

At the meeting on Saturday, Ockenden discussed the review’s terms of reference with the families who will be most affected by it. “We need to get the finer details right to make sure that no family is left behind,” said Cacciacarro, who is now a mother of two. “I felt robbed when we lost Chiara … I’m hoping this review will provide answers to all harmed and bereaved families.”

As well as accountability and transparency, she said what was most important to the families was that the review brought about an improvement in the safety of maternity care services. “We definitely don’t want other families to go through this.”

When her appointment was announced, Ockenden said it was an honour to be asked to chair the review, which is expected to investigate more than 1,000 maternity and neonatal cases dating back to 2018.

“I am absolutely aware of the responsibility I have to the families and babies across Sussex,” she said. “My priority will be to listen carefully to harmed and bereaved families and to engage comprehensively across communities and with staff ‘on the ground’ here in Sussex.

“We will proactively reach out to ensure that the voices of seldom-heard families are heard through this review. It is vital that the scope of the review now reflects the experiences of families and enables a thorough and meaningful examination of care, so that improvements can be made as the review progresses.”

The bereaved campaigners, who are members of the Truth for Our Babies group (TFOB), are urging other affected families to come forward and participate in the review.

Dr Andy Heeps, the chief executive of University hospitals Sussex, said: “Our thoughts remain first and foremost with the families whose babies have died or who have suffered harm when receiving care in our hospitals.

“We welcome Donna Ockenden’s review and remain committed to fully supporting the process so families can get the answers they need, and we take any possible opportunity to learn and improve. Our overriding priority is always to provide the safest possible care for mothers and babies – that is why our maternity teams have implemented many positive changes in recent years, and why we will work with the review team to find new ways of making our services better, and safer, still.”

A Department of Health and Social Care spokesperson said: “Our thoughts and sympathy are with Susan [Cacciacarro] and all women and families who were failed by maternity services in Sussex.

“Through the national maternity and neonatal taskforce, increased investment in maternity safety, and the wider reforms following the previous Ockenden and Amos reviews, we are working to ensure families receive safer, more compassionate and more consistent care in every part of the NHS.” %!s()

Cookie Clicker did have an antecedent in Ian Bogost's Cow Clicker, which was a very deliberate satire. But Cookie Clicker wasn't presented as satire. And yet, it was so transparently meaningless that people doubted it could be anything else. You click a cookie repeatedly to generate more cookies. Once you earn enough cookies, you can invest those cookies into various ways of expediting the cookie making process. You click and watch numbers go up. It's stupid.

Fast forward more than a decade later and idlers, also known as incremental games, are massive on Steam. Last week, 54 games with the tag "idler" released. In total, there are 4,314 games with that tag on Steam.

Some of these look pretty good as far as idlers go. Next Reign: Kingdom has pretty handmade pixel art, atmospheric music and strategic elements. We Need More Humans! Has a novel premise—you have to become increasingly proficient at abducting humans—and, as far as this genre goes, a distinctive art style. Zad Archery's art style, on the other hand, is very generic but it has nearly 700 "mostly positive" reviews, so it must be doing something right.

None of those listed above are likely to rival genre heavyweights like Bongo Cat (currently being played by 135,803 people), Task Bar Hero (66,292 people) and Banana (3,628). But they have at least managed to rise above the onslaught of idler AI slop. The vast majority of the idlers that released on Steam last week have an AI disclosure.

And many of them look oddly, almost uncannily similar. Compare the UIs in the gallery below:

There's a special fondness for a roughly similar shade of blue, isn't there? They are not pleasant UIs. What is going on here? Why do these games all look roughly the same?

From the creators of Edge: A free weekly videogame industry newsletter, featuring in-depth news, expert analysis and exclusive interviews

A quick look at their AI disclosures may be telling. Vespera has "AI generated images and other AI made components". Nexus: "Some assets were created using AI. I'm not as [sic] artist lol." Brainrot Clicker, fittingly, has "some pre-generated visual assets, written content, and development-related creative work", while Path of the Idle Cultivator used AI "for UI and some translations".

These are just four examples: browse the raw unfiltered list of Steam idler games and you'll find many, many more examples of games with loosely the same approach to UI, both in terms of layout and that gravitation towards a dark blue background colour.

The amount of games bearing the idler tag spiked dramatically last year, according to SteamDB. In 2020 there were 100, in 2024 there were 647, last year there were 1033 and this year—so far!—there are 1811. There are 1119 coming soon and 380 "TBA".

I don't mean to be too dismissive of the idler as a genre: there are decent examples. But the whole situation feels almost implausibly silly: Steam is being flooded with thousands of mindless "numbers go up" games developed primarily with the aid of generative AI. It's got to be the quintessence of brainrot.

If you'd told me in 2013 as I dumbly clicked on cookies that this was the future of the idler genre, I wouldn't have believed you at first. Then, maybe five minutes later, after giving it some thought, I'd probably have to admit to the inevitability of it.

Top Steam games by revenue (August 25 - September 1)

Swipe to scroll horizontally

Star Wars Zero Company tops the list, which wasn't necessarily guaranteed: yes, it's a Star Wars game, but it's also a strategy RPG in the style of XCOM. Unfortunately, the offices at Bit Reactor probably aren't thrumming with post-launch elation: 80 percent of its workforce has reportedly been furloughed.

The Blood of Dawnwalker and Onimusha both released after the period tracked by this chart, but for what it's worth—and perhaps that's not much—The Blood of Dawnwalker's pre-orders had it at 17, while Onimusha came in at 28. Given The Blood of Dawnwalker has already sold a million units just three days after release (across all platforms) but we don't know how Onimusha has done.

Elden Ring Tarnished Pack came in at 29, which is quite low considering it's Elden Ring DLC. Most reviews suggest it's not worth the $5 wasn't worth it: "Not worth the money," one Steam user wrote. "Should have been free as it is a very small update made to promote the launch of the game on the Switch." A lot of reviews are in agreement.

Last week's Steam deep cuts

Shaun Prescott is the Australian editor of PC Gamer. With over ten years experience covering the games industry, his work has appeared on GamesRadar+, TechRadar, The Guardian, PLAY Magazine, the Sydney Morning Herald, and more. Specific interests include indie games, obscure Metroidvanias, speedrunning, experimental games and FPSs. He thinks Lulu by Metallica and Lou Reed is an all-time classic that will receive its due critical reappraisal one day. %!s()

The crown jewel of those previous thrillers is undeniably The Wailing, the last feature-length film Na directed before Hope. The rain-slicked mystery opens in a remote village where a string of gruesome murders leaves the local police scrambling. Anchoring the chaos is Jong-goo (Kwak Do-won), a bumbling police officer forced to confront a force far larger than he can handle. What masquerades as a standard procedural gradually evolves into a supernatural nightmare, executed so seamlessly that the transition is almost imperceptible. Na embeds the occult so deeply into the fabric of his world that your brain reflexively tries to rationalize it.

Image: Disney/Side Mirror

Environmental storytelling has always been one of Na’s sharpest tools, as he often refuses to treat the natural world as mere background decoration. Hope is filled with its own sweeping drone shots of the verdant forests and mountains surrounding its setting. In The Wailing, the landscape itself similarly breathes with the narrative. The film opens on the calm banks of South Korea’s Seomjin River, where towering mountains and dense forests sit under the soft orange glow of morning. Na focuses first on the natural beauty of the world that surrounds his story before quickly switching to a Japanese man (Jun Kunimura) fishing in the river. Although seemingly incidental, you’ll find the fisherman's lingering presence one of the film’s greatest tools.

What grounds that occult terror is an overriding sense of duty wrapped in tragedy. Jong-goo is a tired family man and a bit of a fool, utterly ill-equipped for the unimaginable conspiracy that awaits him and his family. Like the growing sense of desperation that drives Hope, the village’s police force at the center of The Wailing feels overworked and under-resourced. Officers often struggle to maintain order against circumstances outside of their control, all while a fierce rain beats down upon them.

Image: Disney/Side Mirror

The gloomy weather of The Wailing is how it adopts the visual grammar of a grimy noir even as it violently careens between horror, comedy, and folklore. The tonal instability is another one of the film’s strengths, pivoting from grotesque body horror to unexpected hijinks, thanks to the sheer incompetence of Jong-goo and his partner, Oh Seong-bok (Son Gang-guk). Even as the film drops out of its noir sheen, Na manages to maintain the film's overriding spell. If anything, these jarring shifts make the world feel authentic and deeply human, heightening the impact of the horror when it inevitably strikes.

That same jarring brilliance extends to the mystery itself, which culminates in a finale that must be experienced blind. Without spoiling the film's devastating conclusion, Na orchestrates a climax where three disparate storylines violently collide in real time, placing the audience in the exact same frantic headspace as Jong-goo. We’re forced to decide who to trust as an enigmatic woman issues cryptic warnings and a rooster's crow acts as a ticking clock for a family's survival. The movie pulls off a breathtaking bait-and-switch, making you absolutely certain of one reality before brutally pivoting to another. It’s a sequence that proves the film's narrative structure is just as unpredictable as its genre shifts, and lands with a devastating truth that wraps back to its opening phrase, citing Luke 24:38–39:

"See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have."

Image: Disney/Side Mirror

Fans of South Korean cinema will naturally place The Wailing alongside Bong Joon-ho’s Memories of Murder, another genre-blending mystery, though based on real events. While Na isn't outright mimicking Bong's masterpiece, both films brilliantly escalate a rural procedural into something unfathomably bleak, while also centering on two out-of-their-depth investigators, communities buckling under paranoia, and mysteries that grow more sickening the more the truth is revealed. Distinct echoes of Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Cure also appear in how Na presents evil. The antagonist isn’t your conventional monster, but what feels like an eerie contagion slowly seeping into the ordinary world.

The Wailing stands as a flawless companion piece to Hope. It trades the Alien-inspired action set pieces for a darker, more slow-built mystery that pulls you ever-deeper into the terrifying secrets of its world with each chilling second. Na refuses to be confined to a single box. His films demand a complex narrative mystery that bleeds together different genres, like action, comedy, and horror. The Wailing remains one of the most razor-sharp presentations of that vision yet.

The Wailing is streaming on Philo %!s()