John Nugent

Monumental stuff: a story about the deadly legacy of America’s colonial sins, both vast and intimate in scope. Exceptional filmmaking, by an exceptional filmmaker.

It’s a simple but artfully effective debut feature from Irish filmmaker Colm Bairéad, with a remarkable, heartbreaking debut performance from Clinch, whose face betrays anxieties she doesn’t yet fully understand.

Haunting, serenely composed and beautiful, this is an elegy for a life and a country that America used to be. 

Absolutely batshit, utterly filthy and a true original: Poor Things is as good as Yorgos Lanthimos and Emma Stone have ever been.

A treat. With astonishing craft and visual storytelling that howls from the screen, Cartoon Saloon have surely secured their place in the animation hall of fame.

A film that recognises there is no single answer to questions like ‘who are you?’ or ‘where do you come from’. Stirring, constantly surprising stuff — with an arresting debut turn from Ji-Min Park.

A thoughtful, meditative thesis on humanity’s relationship with nature, filmed with the kind of cinematographic beauty most fiction filmmakers can only aspire towards.

It isn’t always subtle, but Blue Jean is a gorgeously presented, stirringly performed slice of British queer history that announces director Georgia Oakley and actor Rosy McEwen as major talents to watch.

A mesmerising, wondrous example of animation’s potential; a thoughtful allegory about ecocide and death; and an adorable ode to four-legged (and two-legged) friends. No ebbs here: Flow is the real deal.

A hugely impressive debut. Personal and political, this is a tender and spellbinding depiction of family in fraught times.

A rivetingly weird and exceptionally beautiful fantasy film that offers no easy answers but ponders the biggest questions — through myths, mysticism, and men in crisis. This is major stuff from David Lowery.

Its pleasures lie in the dialogue, the twists, the reveals. It all leads to a delightful Agatha Christie-style drawing room denouement, in which the rat is exposed, their best-laid plans laid to waste. Like the film as a whole, it’s deliciously, lip-smackingly satisfying.

With strong performances in service to a clear, confident vision from Chloé Zhao, this is a wrenching contemplation of the “undiscovered country” of death and grief.

Warmly funny and historically curious, Sally Hawkins’ spirited, humane performance helps overcome a slight lack of dramatic tension.

A storming debut from writer-director Saim Sadiq: emotional, tender, and quietly radical. With any luck, it will herald a new era for Pakistani cinema.

Ridiculously charming, immensely funny, and shot with an unusual zestiness, Rye Lane is purely joyful company — and a shot in the arm for future romantic comedies.

A remarkable, first-hand insight into how a modern-day police state operates, and how any kind of meaningful opposition can exist — as terrifying as it is hopeful.

Cleaner has good people behind it but this British attempt at a Die Hard ends up just being a bit of a mess. Yippee-ki-nay.

A devastating, urgent reminder that art can be dangerous and important and political and powerful — especially in ten-inch heels.

A hugely accomplished horror achievement, and a significant step up from Barbarian: tense, sad, hilarious, unsettling, ridiculously entertaining, and ultimately oddly uplifting.

It doesn’t quite successfully balance its warring tones, but a winningly grumpy performance from Tom Hanks — and a winningly sunny one from Mariana Treviño — ensures for a very watchable take on the ‘giving life another shot’ subgenre.

The chassis may look familiar but there is a very different engine driving Furiosa from that of Fury Road: it’s a rich, sprawling epic that only strengthens and deepens the Max-mythology. It shall ride eternal!

A fizzy, gaudy, joyfully entertaining couple of hours. If there’s any right in the world, Rian Johnson and Daniel Craig will continue making films in the Benoit Blanc Cinematic Universe forever.

Really quite something: a rare remake that only augments and enriches the original. For Bill Nighy, meanwhile, it feels in every sense like the role of a lifetime.

About as powerful as cinema gets. Its hybrid blend of documentary audio and devastating dramatisation is heart-wrenchingly, shatteringly effective.

Gothic, iconoclastic, engrossing, slyly excoriating of modern-day America and very funny to boot, it’s another solidly satisfying whodunnit from Benny B. Keep them coming, please.

Funny, profound, weird, sad, and gorgeously constructed — Marcel is a true original, liable to melt even the most cynical heart. A very special shell indeed.

It’s nonsense — but at the very least, well-meaning nonsense.