For those not familiar with Richard Bell, his works are collected and respected on the international art scene, often drawing upon imagery of iconic moments in Indigenous protest, or in making art of protest statements.

Some of those works we get to see in this film, great smacks in the face like Aboriginal Art: It's A White Thing! or the filmmakers' cameras following Bell to Venice where he stages his own piece - an "Australian Pavilion'" wrapped and in chains - in protest at his not being accepted as Australia's representative artist.

Protest is in Bell's DNA, having come up in former premier Joh Bjelke-Petersen's Queensland and then Sydney's Redfern community.

He's had, as Behrendt unpacks, hard times on top of a lifetime of struggle, but the result is not just his folio of artworks, but his status as luminary on the international art stage.

I'm lucky enough to walk past Bell's powerful collaboration with Emory Douglas A White Hero for Black Australia every day at my (real) job, a work that captures the Black Power salute from the 1968 Olympics, so bright and graphic, and with a power that jumps off the wall at you.

For those not familiar with Larissa Behrendt, she's enjoyed the kind of career your parents could only have hoped for you in their wildest dreams.

Currently Professor of Law at the University of Technology Sydney, she was the inaugural Chair of NITV in the early 2000s, is author of some very readable novels, and her resume as filmmaker includes the documentaries In My Blood It Runs and After the Apology and as writer for the second series of Total Control.

Her work on You Can Go Now is solid, putting her talking-head interview subjects at ease to draw out more than just her film's narrative, including some very personal stories and raw moments.

If the narrative veers away from Bell at times, it's because Bell's own story is informed by the broader canvas of the Australian First Nations peoples.

The filmmakers help us understand unjust administration of missions and the government regulation of life for Aboriginal Australians, the 1967 referendum, the rise of Redfern as a safe haven for dispossessed rural peoples, and the tireless work put in by community members building services the government wasn't offering.

There are layers upon layers to this story and it's a wonder Behrendt was able to pack it into such a tight 80 minutes - credit to film editor Jane Usher.

The film's title comes from Bell's 2017 work Immigration Policy, and as applied to this film adds further layers of meaning.

Introduced just before the credits start rolling, it's telling us the film is almost over.

It is discussed by one interview subject as being about legacy and how Bell must feel content he can one day leave his children behind knowing his legacy is cemented in the Australian arts and Indigenous protest.

But it's also a cutting jab at the colonisers.

In cinema programming terms, putting You Can Go Now on screens over the Australia Day weekend is referred to as counter-programming.

When your cinema knows it has an Avatar coming up, they'll be looking for an Exotic Marigold Hotel to play at the same time, a safe, calm harbour for patrons who shudder at the idea of wearing 3D glasses for three hours to watch blue CGI performers.

I wouldn't consider You Can Go Now safe viewing by any means - there are too many ideas that might upset delicate constitutions.

But for those a bit appalled by the jingoism of the national holiday and the pretences upon which it is constructed, throwing some money at an Australian documentary might feel like a better use of your time.

You'll be supporting the local film industry and expanding your mind at the same time.