Hannah Strong

Even as the death roll of capitalism continues to clutch Hollywood in its jaws, No Other Choice proves that, in the hands of a master, there’s still fertile ground to be found. His biting, incendiary dramedy calls into question how much we’re willing to accept – and how far we’re willing to go – in the name of preserving our own comfort.

It’s stylish and sad and funny and bleak and a thousand other things. But most of all, it’s a pure hit of Sandler and Safdie.

The film is fun. It’s smart and sexy and engaging.

It’s a ghost story, but it’s a love story too. One that will break your heart.

The Zone of Interest seems to welcome division in its responses – such a bold, horrifyingly eerie work serves as a catalyst as much as an artistic statement.

It’s a film with fingerprints all over it; one that has been crafted rather than manufactured, and rewatches reveal a chance to revel in its sharpness; a scene in which Amleth seeks the counsel of a blind Seeress (the incomparable Björk) teems with intricate set and costume details, while a violent game of Knattleikr – a Viking cross between lacrosse and rugby – proves more adrenaline-inducing than any CGI special of recent years.

It is, like those beautiful concrete monstrosities which are revered and reviled in equal measure, a film that towers across the Venice line-up this year, tragic and wry and gorgeous and disturbing – any number of hyperbolic terms might apply to the beast that Corbet has created in The Brutalist.

It’s a character study for the ages, with Reinsve, Danielsen Lie and Nordrum delivering three magnetic turns.

Its delicate blend of wryly observed humanity and thoughtful, understated visuals mean that the more dramatic beats hit harder. Even the occasional moments of gore feel shocking for the sparsity with which McDonagh chooses to deploy them.

Ramsay articulates the inarticulate, here through her saturated blues, yellows, browns and greens, the colours of grief and sickness and rot…but also new life, summer skies, and hope.

While Decision to Leave might lack the grandiose scale of Park’s most-lauded work, its intimacy is no less apparent.

The real beauty of Priscilla is its delicate portrayal of the all-consuming fire and flood of first love, and what happens when you grow up, and begin to realise the fairytale doesn’t always have a happy ending.

Frenetic and obsessive, this is still a love story amid the gore and slick of body oil – a heart-pounding, iron-pumping descent into the heady heart of obsession and desire.

This is by far Haynes’ funniest film to date, with shades of Almodóvar in its dramatic zooms and heightened domestic tension.

This comforting, crass blast from the past confirms the Jackass gang as modern-day legends. Pandemics come and go. The tides turn and pop culture trends live and die on the whim of social media. But Jackass? Baby, Jackass is Forever.

Although the third act sags a little under the weight of Marty’s hubris, it’s impossible to deny Safdie is working at a remarkable technical level. Just as Good Time and Uncut Gems played to the strengths of their stars while also transforming them, Marty Supreme challenges Chalamet and he meets the play with fleet footwork.

The mistakes we make as children have the power to echo through our lives, and we have to live with them, for better or worse, and only distance provides clarity. Armageddon Time understands the past is a foreign country, and not one you can live in forever.

Gerwig’s filmmaking enriches our world, earnest and joyous and thoughtful. Even under the guise of a piece of massive IP, she maintains that spirit where others have failed.

This is no kitchen sink drama; those most marginalised by years of British austerity are making do, and they’re as entitled to magic as the rest.

The French Dispatch is Anderson’s most impressionistic and unusual film, not to mention his most ambitious.

It’s a cosy, classic Aardman treat, perfect for Wallace and Gromit fans of any age – and Feathers McGraw remains as menacing as ever.

It’s a film that understands there’s nothing to be gained from making oneself an island, but remains stoic and unsentimental in its vision of the past.

Despite being an obvious meditation on the potential for impending climate catastrophe, the film is never cloying or condescending – instead Flow feels warm and delicate, like the fur of a cat who’s been lying in a sun spot all morning.

Perfect Days encourages a sort of radical presentness in our own lives – learning how to truly connect with our existence, even when it’s difficult or causes us to confront unpleasant truths.

It’s certainly an enjoyable watch, though Östlund gestures towards big questions about gender and class divisions without making any truly bold statements. Instead, his characters noodle around inside increasingly outlandish scenarios, and the eventual ending feels rather abrupt after two hours of build-up.

Although the first 40 minutes in the buttoned-up period setting do drag a little, once The Beast finds its groove, its imaginative and melodramatic spirit are hard to resist. It’s a big swing for the fences from a singular French filmmaker, and one that absolutely pays off.

Perhaps it’s his fidelity to this team of collaborators that creates such a fluid vision; much like the honey bees that Teddy lovingly tends to in his garden, every artist moves in service of a grand design.

So it’s not the Michael Jordan story, or a two-hour lesson about the science of sneaker design. Instead Air is an engaging Hollywood fairytale, about extraordinary people and the scope of their ambition, and the importance of advocating not only for your own worth, but for the worth of those around you.