Ian Freer

Closer to the gentle humanism of Paterson than Jarmusch’s cooler, ironic output, Father Mother Sister Brother is a small-scale and singular treat.

So intense you’ll want to scarper but so riveting you can’t leave, Sirāt is an assault on the senses, mind and emotions. If only all movies took swings this bold.

It might lack the edge of Godard’s own movies but this courses with love for cinema, creativity, youth, Paris and ’60s cool. Film history is rarely this charming.

Clint Bentley’s Train Dreams is a peach of a picture. At once miniaturist yet epic, it’s an exquisite film that touches on every human emotion – agony, ecstasy, discovery, surprise, togetherness, loneliness – without contrivance or strain.

A powerful story about father and sons, told by a father and son. At once a showcase for a monumental talent, and the arrival of an exciting new one.

Like Talk To Her, it doesn’t completely satisfy when it comes time to resolve its intrigue. But, as with their debut, the Philippou brothers show a real skill for creating believable teen characters, Barratt and Wong create a tender, affecting chemistry that make the chills all the more affecting.

The Ballad Of Wallis Island is a big-hearted, consoling hug of a movie. It might not reinvent the wheel, but it’s the low-(Tim)-key crowd-pleaser of the year so far.

An affectionate bloody valentine to both romcoms and horror, Heart Eyes is a like a Hinge date from hell. Smart, funny, intense; swipe right.

Understated performances and unflashy filmmaking coalesce into an absorbing mixture of the personal and the political. It may take its time but, given the circumstances of its making, this is an extraordinary achievement.

It may be formally unadventurous but A Real Pain is a real treat, a tender, funny treatise on family jealousies and our relationship to the past. Simultaneously light and heavy, it soars on the stellar pairing of Eisenberg and Culkin.

This is Steve McQueen’s most accessible film to date, without diluting any of his power. Mixing epic sweep with textured detail, despite an episodic second half it will make even the stiffest upper lip quiver.

Kravitz expertly flits between tension, horror, black comedy and social satire, sometimes delivering all four simultaneously. It’s a film about the abuses of power, the dangers of being a woman in a man’s world and the importance of female solidarity, but is never didactic, just gripping.

Having the mordant wit and tonal confidence to parlay The Troubles into a punchline, Kneecap has laughs, smarts and verve to spare. Get on board or, as the characters put it, fuck up.

Mike Cheslik’s Hundreds Of Beavers is that rare thing in the current film landscape: a genuine cult classic.

Hugely affecting and perfectly played, Nowhere Special is a peach of a picture.

It’s horror hokum told with unswerving commitment.

Monster is Hirokazu Kore-eda channelling Christopher Nolan: twisty storytelling in the service of wise empathy. There is no judgement in Kore-eda’s worldview, just human behaviour in all its glorious complexity.

A sanitised version of Spielberg’s film, let alone Walker’s novel. But bravura musical sequences and a top-notch cast ensure smiles and tears come the end credits.

If nothing else, Radical Dreamer is a never-ending stream of great anecdotes.

Renaissance: A Film By Beyoncé achieves total Beyhem, a riot of colour, spectacle, inventive staging, stunning vocals and gorgeous grooves. As a self-portrait, it might not delve as deep as you’d like, but it offers a thrilling lesson in what it takes to be a pop icon.

It may not scale the heights of his Paddington duo, but Paul King’s Wonka is a beguiling way to spend 116 minutes, perfectly anchored by Chalamet’s benevolent dandy. All together now: Oompa Loompa, doompety doo…

Maestro never truly gets under its subject’s skin, but it’s mightily impressive, full of brilliant filmmaking, many memorable scenes and a superb Carey Mulligan walking away with the entire movie.

Subject acknowledges sensitivities are shifting but also pointedly makes clear, for the damaged souls here, they didn’t change quick enough.

You don’t have to be cray-cray for Tay-Tay to enjoy The Eras Tour. Taylor’s version of a concert flick might not reinvent the music movie wheel but, as a gift to the hardcore or a primer to her immense talent, it works a treat.

A pressure cooker of a period picture, Brooklyn 45 is a smart take on the spooky séance staple, a film where the scariest spectres are the ghosts of the past rather than any pixel-packed phantoms.

One Fine Morning is Mia Hansen-Løve on tip top form, drawing a fantastic lead performance from a never-better Léa Seydoux. Some flicks need a bearded assassin or ghostface killer to create drama. Hansen-Løve just needs the stuff of real life.

If it’s not God-tier level Kore-eda, Broker explores the toughest themes — emotional and physical abandonment — with the gentlest touch. Treat yourself.

TÁR is a masterwork. A gripping, grown-up movie superbly orchestrated by Todd Field and perfectly played by a virtuoso, career-best Cate Blanchett. 158 minutes rarely flies by so quickly.

Chinonye Chukwu’s restrained approach replaces dramatic fireworks with an absorbing, slow-burning study of a broken woman’s politicisation. She is superbly served by star Danielle Deadwyler, who transforms Till from a good film into a gripping one.

It might be a minor work from a major filmmaker but François Ozon’s remix of Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s classic has its pleasures, chiefly strong performances across the board, especially from Isabelle Adjani and the immense Denis Ménochet, embodying the German maverick without ever descending into impersonation.

It works better as a weird relationship movie than a murder-mystery but See How They Run is the whodunnit as hoot, with lots of laughs, oodles of style and played with verve by a quality cast. It also reconfirms Saoirse Ronan as a comedy god.

If it adds little in the way of dissenting voices or a different viewpoint, Explorer tells the tale of a remarkable, stranger-than-fiction life and emerges as an affecting, entertaining portrait of a true eccentric.

She Will is meditative horror, parlaying modern concerns through a thick, ancient atmosphere. It perhaps has too much on its mind, but Charlotte Colbert’s debut works as an imaginative and unsettling calling card.

Filmmaker Bob Weide’s relationship with Kurt Vonnegut may detract from a more incisive critical portrait but it is sweetly etched, and the unparalleled access provides a comical, compelling profile of a singular figure in 20th-century American letters.

It may have a tenuous relationship with nuance, but RRR is a bombastic delight. Making the Fast And Furious series look restrained by comparison, it hits the parts Hollywood actioners just can’t reach. Rise! Roar! Revelation!

Just missing out on top-tier Hansen-Løve, Bergman Island is beautifully played — especially by Krieps and Wasikowska — and retains all the hallmarks of her best work; an intelligent, personal, heartfelt treat.

Avoiding the danger zone of mere retread, Kosinski and co deliver all the Top Gun feels and then some: slick visuals, crew camaraderie, thrilling aerial action, a surprising emotional wallop and, in Tom Cruise, a magnetic movie-star performance as comforting as an old leather jacket. Punching the air is mandatory.

Joanna Hogg delivers an object lesson in how to deliver a follow-up: deeper, funnier, more imaginative than its predecessor, The Souvenir Part II is a filmmaker working at the peak of her powers.

Almodóvar juggles comedy and drama to terrifically entertaining ends, aided by a tip-top Penélope Cruz. It’s hard to think of a more exciting actor-director partnership working today.

Belfast is exactly the kind of film that wins an audience award at a festival — highly entertaining and beautifully done without ever being innovative or challenging, finding the universal in the specific, the upbeat in dire circumstances. Slight but winning.

Perhaps the most ironic title of 2021, Hope isn’t filmmaking to set the pulses racing. Instead it’s a quiet, nuanced study of how a couple who have drifted apart deal with the direst of circumstances, perfectly played by Andrea Bræin Hovig and Stellan Skarsgård.

Don’t Look Up takes the pulse of contemporary life and finds it crazy, scary and, most of all, funny. It doesn’t all land but enough does to make it a sharp, bold, star-studded treat.

The bizarre intersection between Ryūsuke Hamaguchi, Haruki Murakami and Anton Chekhov makes for a thematically fat, ambiguous, absorbing psycho-sexual drama. It’s not for the impatient, but it’s so precise and delicate, you won’t notice the gear-changes.

Paul Andrew Williams and Neil Maskell breathe new life into a familiar one-man-army scenario. Unrelenting, no-nonsense and hard-as-nails — just like its eponymous anti-hero.

Though it doesn’t ever make you really feel, Spencer is a bold, compassionate, poetic riposte to standard royal biopics. It 
also confirms Kristen Stewart as one of the most exciting actors working today.

The French Dispatch is a designed-to-within-an-inch-of its-life delight. If it lacks a compelling story, only one filmmaker could have made this film. And, in these cookie-cutter-director days, it’s a vision to be cherished.

The Verdict Underground is hypnotic but clear-eyed, finding a different way to put a musical biography on film. And for all its radical formalism, it never forgets to be entertaining.

Despite the generic title, Only You is an emotional treat, lit up by stellar charisma from Laia Costa and Josh O’Connor. And debutante Harry Wootliff is a filmmaker to watch.

Shorta is a Molotov cocktail of a movie. For co-directors Ølholm and Hviid, it’s a Hollywood calling card. For the rest of us, it’s a tense actioner, anchored by powerful performances from its leads, who add layers to good cop/bad cop clichés.

The most original film of 2021, Annette is a ride like no other, a spellbinding waltz in a storm. See it for truly hypnotic filmmaking, a clutch of great songs and Adam Driver at his most magnetic.

Filled with both passive aggression and aggressive aggression, The Nest has the trappings of a haunted-house movie but delivers something much scarier — the slow death of a marriage, performed to perfection by Jude Law and Carrie Coon.

Wildland is an original, a compelling gangster film unusually driven by women and told in stark, measured strokes. A unique calling card for director Jeanette Nordahl.

Riders Of Justice is an oddball delight. Taking a leaf from the Coens’ playbook, it’s by turns ultra-violent then drily funny and surprisingly wise. Come for Mikkelsen, stay for his winning band of lovable losers.

1666 mostly operates in a different register than 1994 and 1978, but is no less entertaining. It rounds off an ambitious triptych chock-full of horror-history allusions, strong world-building, sharp scares, palatable gore, lively filmmaking and a likeable set of characters. Other scary-movie franchises take note.

The Truffle Hunters is a low-key delight, a poignant lament for a fading art that doubles as foodie heaven. Go on a full stomach.

It’s a short-film premise at a feature-film length, but few films take as many chances or go for broke as much as Jumbo. Wittock is an exciting new talent to watch, and Merlant spins something potentially laughable into a rollercoaster — or at least, waltzer — ride of emotions.

Fear Street Part 1: 1994 is a wild ride through ’90s horror tropes that somehow feels affectionate and fresh. It is, as they said back then, insane in the membrane.

If it says nothing new about the dangers of over-indulgence, Another Round is funny and rich, a fresh, perfectly played, clear-eyed take on middle age ennui. Intoxicating.

Supernova is a tender two-hander that gradually crushes your heart. What it lacks in cinematic width it gains in well-earned emotional depth, courtesy of delicate writing and two subtle but towering performances from Firth and Tucci.

Sensitively made, thought-provoking and ultimately moving, The Reason I Jump provides telling insights into the neurodiverse worldview. The result is a powerful documentary that presents life through fresh eyes.

It’s a visceral experience; part survivalist drama, part slash-and-stalk thriller, filled with intensity and dread, all amplified by wild editing strategies (flash cuts, jump cuts, abrupt cuts to black) and strobe effects to stoke up the atmosphere.

First Cow is archetypal Kelly Reichardt, slow, small and perfectly formed, elevated by stellar but understated performances from John Magaro and Orion Lee.

A low-key treat about rising above the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, The Dog Who Wouldn’t Be Quiet is something to shout about.

A modest, taut nailbiter. It lets itself down in the final third, but for the most part Oxygen leaves you gasping for air. And Mélanie Laurent, in practically every frame, is terrific.

Apples is an offbeat treat that manages to embrace ironic distance and emotional weight through a prism of perfectly judged absurdism.

Nomadland is a Springsteen song in movie form, a beautifully rendered tale of what it means to be disenfranchised in America. Life on the road has never been so tenderly captured, politically alive and profoundly moving.

Love And Monsters is a blast, an unassuming, immensely winning monster movie filled with great lo-fi creatures and a likeable cast. As a template for making a leaner, less bloated summer movie, Hollywood could do a lot worse.

A striking debut from a blistering talent. What it lacks in narrative oomph it makes up for in beautiful imagery, natural performances and a worldview all its own.

A beautifully argued parable about the need to go where life takes you, Darius Marder’s debut thrives on the soul of Riz Ahmed and the bold creativity of sound designer Nicholas Becker. Together they make Sound Of Metal sing.

Song Without A Name is a true original, at once rooted in a raw emotional reality but told with the striking beauty of a dream. Writer-director Melina León is definitely one to watch.

The Dissident explodes genres by combining them, equal parts political analysis, murder investigation, cyber thriller and paean to free speech. It also celebrates the life of late journalist Jamal Khashoggi, who tirelessly gave a voice to the voiceless. 

News Of The World is narratively slight, but it is a terrific showcase for two actors at completely different ends of their careers and a quietly emotional dispatch about two broken souls learning to heal.

Part mystery, part black comedy, part metaphor for loss, Patrick is a nakedly true original. It also has the best caravan fight since Kill Bill Vol. 2.

Part mystery, part black comedy, part metaphor for loss, Patrick is a nakedly true original. It also has the best caravan fight since Kill Bill Vol. 2.

Shot in stunning black-and-white, Mank delivers Hollywood in a multitude of greys. Built on a towering performance by Gary Oldman, it’s smart, sophisticated, by turns thrilling and difficult, and amongst Fincher’s best.

Generic title, strong movie. Relic is smart (but never smart-arse) horror. What it lacks in incident it makes up for in a troika of top turns and tangible tension in service to an interesting parable about the gnawing effects of dementia.

Superbly written and performed by actual friends Kyle Marvin and Michael Angelo Covino, The Climb is a smart, funny, small-scale delight. More please.

An early entry into documenting Covid-19, Totally Under Control doesn’t have all the answers, but it is a vital, powerful examination of how one political administration could get something so wrong by ignoring the experts.

A holiday romance perfect for the dark nights with the added bonus of a flashback structure that builds genuine intrigue into the outcome. It also includes a use of Rod Stewart’s ‘Sailing’ that guarantees its place on your 2020 movie playlist.

Time may be shot in black and white but the world it captures is anything but clear-cut. By turns moving and angry, it’s a thought-provoking hymn to love, family and the power of Black female courage.

A brilliant Sally Hawkins stands atop Craig Roberts’ perceptive look at mental illness. Small but beautifully formed.

The Eight Hundred bites off more that it can chew but it consistently serves up gripping filmmaking on the biggest canvas.

Don’t confuse it with Russell Crowe staring out of a window. After a patient build-up, Les Misérables becomes a Molotov cocktail of a movie, tense, explosive and urgent. A powerful fiction debut from documentarian Ladj Ly.

Get Duked channels both Trainspotting and Deliverance to create a scattershot shotgun-blast of gags, gore and bedlam. Winningly performed by its young cast, it’s a (laminated) calling card for director Ninian Doff.

Part political drama, part history lesson, part gripping spy thriller, Coup 53 gives what has been relegated to a small footnote in Iran’s story the big, expansive, dramatic treatment it deserves.

Young Ahmed might be major filmmakers in a minor mode, but it is still a riveting, beautifully made character study that provokes compassion and controversy in equal measures.

Claire Oakley has created a vivid sensory experience out of limited means. Make Up is anything but cosmetic — it gets right under the skin.

Even if it hits well-worn beats, Come As You Are still shines a light on the oft-ignored sexual wants and needs of the disabled community, with humour, empathy and poignancy.

Part film industry satire, part winning love story, Benjamin is low-key and shambling but emerges funny, bittersweet and affecting.

It’s a potentially mid-’90s B-movie premise, but director Patrick Vollrath and star Joseph Gordon-Levitt keep it taut, tense and classy. Just a shame it doesn’t stick the landing.

The Vast Of Night is a modest film about small-town dreamers that delivers big-time rewards and announces a singular, exciting talent in director Andrew Patterson.

And Then We Danced is a well-made love story, anchored by a mesmerizing Levan Gelbakhiani and enlivened by electrifying dance numbers.

It could easily be twee twaddle, but A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood is a nuanced, formally playful delight, a perfectly pitched and played ode to goodness. All hail Marielle Heller.

If you don’t like Malick’s movies, A Hidden Life won’t convert you. But this is the filmmaker on sublime form, putting his artistry and obsessions at the service of something frighteningly relevant.

Anchored by great performances from Liam Neeson and especially Lesley Manville, Ordinary Love is alive to the feelings and moments other hospital dramas overlook. Its accumulation of details form a shattering whole.

Beautifully played — especially by Wang Jingchun — So Long, My Son is sprawling, audacious, sometimes bewildering, ultimately moving. It tests your patience but it’s worth it.

The Two Popes shouldn’t work, a two-handed conversation about Vatican minutiae. But with great writing, smart direction and late career-high performances from Anthony Hopkins and Jonathan Pryce, it’s a high-end treat. Send up the white smoke, we have a winner.

An affectionate portrait of a remarkable woman that loses its grip when it bites off more than it can chew.