Nikki Baughan

While Frank & Louis is narratively unsurprising, its strong performances and emotional authenticity give it undeniable power.

Respectful, frank and moving, this is a small film with a devastating impact.

Cover-Up pays fitting tribute to a man who has made it his life’s work to seek out and expose the hardest of truths.

The result is a vibrant, infectious and surprisingly hopeful portrait of a divided America, fuelled not by idealism but dogged determination.

An assured, intelligent piece of filmmaking.

An impressive filmmaking debut from actor-turned-director Rebecca Hall which largely avoids cliché or soapboxing about race, featuring two excellent performances from Tessa Thompson and Ruth Negga.

With an ambition that far exceeds its relatively small on-screen scale, Atlantis is a remarkable piece of filmmaking from an exciting emerging Eastern European voice.

Open-minded audiences will soon realise that Pillion is not out to provocate, but to authentically and sensitively explore a side of gay culture little seen in mainstream film.

Its layered story, about a rich man and the extraordinary book that changes his life, is particularly well-suited to Anderson, who revels in such Russian Doll narratives and delivers the story as a dramatic reading, narrated by its characters.

Despite the sentimental score, which unnecessarily ramps up the emotion, Daughters is honest about the fact that this programme is not a magic bullet, just one important step on the road to change.

With strong performances and an arresting tone, Black Conflux doesn’t offer anything groundbreaking in terms of its narrative, but is nevertheless a striking calling card for its talented maker.

There’s something strangely beautiful about short filmmaker Elizabeth Lo’s concise, allegorical debut feature documentary, which starts off as a fly-on-the-fur exploration of Istanbul’s stray dog epidemic and becomes a lament about the difficulties of finding somewhere to belong in an increasingly fractured, and fractious, world.

There’s a lightness of touch to the performances, with Silver encouraging his actors to improvise on-set. Events may have made Ben something of a sadsack, but Schwartzman ensures there is still a glimmer in his eye, a hint that his lust for life is simply dormant.

Layering its fairly straightforward story of an adopted Irish girl who tracks down her birth mother with immersive visual and aural motifs, it plays more like modern operatic tragedy than run-of-the-mill social drama.

It effectively combines familiar genre tropes with Jenkin’s unique visual style and a resonant message of community.

Director Julien Faraut, who oversees the French Sport Institute’s 16mm film collection, showcases masterful command of the documentary form. His insightful, entertaining and often humorous film will appeal to fans of McEnroe, tennis and sport in general.

As Gena attempts to live an authentic life in a place which is dangerously prejudiced against her, so Queendom takes shape as a damning portrait of state-sanctioned intolerance and suppression.

Warfare certainly isn’t the first combat movie to take such an immersive approach to the subject, but what’s striking about this film is its overriding commitment to the truth as perceived by its real-life characters.

While any narrative nuance is left in the dust by the film’s singular focus on bloody retribution at all costs, it is one hell of a ride.

Talpe is excellent in the lead, his tightly-honed physique an increasingly transparent veneer for his troubled emotional state.

While the dramatic destination may be signposted fom the off, this well-observed debut from actor-turned-director Prasanna Puwanarajah handles its themes lightly, leaning into dark comedy rather than melodrama, and that approach, together with strong central performances, serves it well.

Exceptional performances, particularly from Caleb Landry Jones in the lead, and a sensitive touch from director Justin Kurtzel can’t shake the unease of giving yet another cinematic spotlight to a real-life mass murderer.

Bold, bloody and blisteringly brutal, this exhilarating follow-up to last year’s 28 Years Later grabs its audience by the throat from the off and never loosens its grip.

There are some tremendous misdirects, effective jump scares, and literal piles of gore. There just happens to be plenty of brains to go with all that blood.

There’s something deeply compelling about this deliberately odd, carefully-calibrated neo-gothic fable, which suggests that rehabilitation can be found in the darkest of places, and that true freedom is simply a matter of trust.

Diem’s intimate access and sensitive approach, together with editor Swann Dubus’ keen eye for texture and detail, make for a compelling and eye-opening drama.

While Gerwig and co-writer Noah Baumbach may couch this self-discovery narrative in powder pinks and unrelenting pep, their message is authentic and acerbic: an urgent feminist call to arms wrapped up in a hugely entertaining popcorn movie.

Nicole, Ruby and Elise are powerfully defiant just by refusing to be intimidated or shaped by patriarchal forces: an idea which rises above the outlandish events unfolding on screen to strike a universal, cathartic chord.

Writer/director Corey Sherman’s understated screenplay, inspired by his own experiences as a young gay man, favours nuanced realism over high drama.

While this expansion of Frett’s 2023 short of the same name may, at times, feel like it’s being cornered into making a political statement, the nuanced central performance from Stephan James largely prevents the message from overwhelming the story.

While Wilson stays resolutely — and perhaps for some frustratingly — neutral about whether that link is forged by lived experience or spiritual ability, her film can be read as a celebration of human empathy and the power of shared connection.

Drawing heavily from his own adolescence, director Sean Wang makes a beautifully-crafted feature debut, which manages to be both personal to his own specific cultural experience, and speak to more universal truths about walking that tricky path to adulthood.

Curry Barker’s astute horror takes the simple, familiar premise of a love-sick man attempting to win the object of his affections and shapes it into an incisive, entertainingly schlocky study of romantic co-dependency, patriarchal entitlement and the all-too-easy subversion of good intentions.

Scanlen effectively embodies her character’s internal struggles, unable to vocalise her growing frustrations lest she forfeit her purity — which is seemingly her only value.

Everything about this hard-hitting film is restrained, like a breath tightly held, and all the more powerful for it.

Danny Boyle’s long-awaited return to the franchise he created in 2002 may lack the immediate, visceral bite of his original 28 Days Later, but nevertheless brings a satisfying mix of old horrors and new ideas.

In its refreshingly frank look at the end of life, Much Ado About Dying becomes a thought-provoking study of what it means to live.

This story of foolhardy youth and the hell it can unwittingly unleash is a staple of genre cinema, but first time directors Danny and Michael Philippou tell it well and there’s certainly plenty of atmosphere (and effects) to appeal to hardened horror fans.

In their scenes together, Clear and Duggan spark beautifully, navigating their characters’ emotional highs and lows with a mix of caustic wit and often moving vulnerability.

While the film’s narrative may run a familiar path from conflict to resolution, Rotem’s light, authentic touch makes it an engaging journey.

With the film reminding us that the American system isn’t only failing people with diabetes, the battle for affordable healthcare rages on.

Kasbe has imbued When Lambs Become Lions with the feel of a thriller rather than a polemic.

Centred around two exceptional performances, and taking an intimate, documentary-like approach to the drama, Joy effectively explores the devastating traps of abuse and extortion without ever becoming exploitative itself.

Probing issues of motherhood, adolescence and identity with a delicate dramatic touch while expertly harnessing some outre genre elements, Hatching is a bold, arresting feature debut from Finnish director Hanna Bergholm.

This engaging, eye-opening documentary follows Gordon over six years, as a book deal forces her to give up her anonymity and she further explores her own relationships with food, her family and society at large.

Tracey Deer’s feature debut Beans vibrates with ferocious anger and righteous pride.

Eternal You acts like a modern day Wizard Of Oz as it lifts the curtain on the intricate processes of bringing the dead to life.

Crucially, underneath the music and the soft-focus romance Been So Long makes some poignant observations about community, family and the importance of connection.

Joy Ride could easily have felt like a series of increasingly outrageous skits but, thanks to the chemistry between its leads and the tonal confidence of first time director Adele Lim, it ultimately lands as a raucously authentic comedy.

Director Baltasar Kormákur and his actors err on the side of restraint, delivering a balanced, absorbing human drama.

It’s a joy to see them performing energetic old hits like ’Popscene’ and ’Song 2’, and a privilege to watch them create their more introspective new material.

Featuring superb turns from Vicky Krieps and the late Gaspard Ulliel - in his final role - as a couple facing the most difficult of choices, More Than Ever persuades, rather than forces, its audience to stare death in the face, and proves surprisingly life affirming in the process.

In lesser hands, this could have been merely a gimmick but, with his feature debut, director Ben Leonberg delivers an effective, genuinely unsettling chiller.

The chemistry between these three is the film’s greatest strength, and Good Grief plays best as a love story between friends.

This …Matilda is not just a big movie about a little girl finding her voice, but about the need to speak up against injustice, wherever its found, and to find people who believe in you enough to lend their support.

Taking pleasure in subverting romcom tropes and boasting a satisfying attention to detail, Timestalker is a showcase for Lowe’s considerable talents on both sides of the camera.

Part cringe-comedy, part diagnostic study of the modern pandemic of male loneliness, Friendship has several inspired moments, and strong performances from Robinson and Rudd. Ultimately, however, its determination to straddle both camps means it stretches itself rather too thin.

Considine’s strong central performance gives the film an emotional resonance.

It’s one of the most powerful King features for some time.

It’s a serious message delivered in typically entertaining Lanthimos style and hammered home via a bravura climax which manages to be both gonzo and gut-wrenching in equal measure.

For all its visual prowess, the film’s most successful element is its balance of the fantastical with the familiar.

While her work certainly speaks for itself, it’s fascinating to hear Addario tell her own remarkable story.

While Michael Pearce’s second feature may not deliver quite the same wallop as his debut feature Beast, it demonstrates the same mastery of filmmaking craft and another incredible performance from Riz Ahmed.

Successfully mining the awkward humour of the adolescent experience, Karen Maine’s coming-of-age feature makes the most of a strong central performance from Natalia Dyer.

Any dramatic convenience can be forgiven as the platonic chemistry between Ferreira and Leguizamo feels natural, empathetic and genuine. And as they both begin to let down their guards, it’s a pleasure to watch them; so much so, in fact, that it doesn’t really matter that the characters in their orbit are far less vividly sketched.

It’s to Hepburn’s credit that Never Steady, Never Still avoids any of the histrionics or melodrama often associated with such stories. Instead, she offers keen-eyed, compassionate observation of the impact of illness that, while not shying away from its emotional toll, celebrates the strength and sanctuary a family can provide.

Companion looks fantastic. But, underneath that glossy surface, it makes some biting comments about power dynamics, free will, and what it really means to be human.

The Devil Wears Prada has become something of a modern classic, thanks largely to its eminently quotable, whip-smart observations about the world of fashion and its enduring sense of style. It’s unsurprising, then, that this sequel (again directed by David Frankel) is cut from exactly the same cloth, deliberately designed to be a narrative retread – albeit with a few Gen Z updates – that should delight existing fans.

Debut feature director Sebastien Vanicek proves to be adept at wringing every drop of tension out of this slim narrative, elevating this B-movie creature feature to A-grade horror.

Ariane Louis-Seize’s debut feature plays like a coming-of-age genre mash-up, and features a tortured blood-sucker protagonist reminiscent of Only Lovers Left Alive, A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night or even The Hunger, although it is narratively and stylistically striking enough to make its own impact.

While this stirring dramatization of Davidson’s life hits conventional narrative beats, sensitive handling and a remarkable central performance from Robert Aramayo do heartwarming justice to a remarkable life.

Charline Bourgeois-Tacquet’s intriguing, modest drama keeps its focus tight on Gabrielle but, thanks to a keenly observed screenplay and Drucker’s finely balanced performance, presents a wider view on the female mid-life experience.

Strongly acted and effectively staged, The Boys In The Band has lost little of its impact in the five decades since its first debut, and is a fitting tribute to its creator Mart Crowley, who died in March.

It is ultimately a heartfelt, inspiring story about ordinary people who choose to stand up and make a change – and a reminder that, for so many women, the fight goes on.

While the character’s resulting journey of self-discovery may follow familiar lines, it is bracing nevertheless.

Israeli teacher-turned-filmmaker Matan Yair mines his own experiences for Scaffolding, bringing depth and poignancy to what could have otherwise been a familiar tale.

Debut director Prano Bailey-Bond crafts a stylish, effective horror that is both an homage to genre cinema of that period and a psychological dive into the combined traumas of grief and guilt.

Inevitably, this will mean it draws comparisons to The Babadook, the current high-bar for grief manifestation horror, but Daddy’s Head, which premiered at Fantastic Fest, is sharply drawn, well-shot, and genuinely unsettling in its own right.

Returning director Dean DeBlois (who helmed the animation alongside Chris Sanders, as well as its sequel) has retained the energetic spirit of the original, and he’s helped by some fantastic CGI and a game cast, both of which lean into the fantastical charm of this tale of a hapless young Viking who discovers he is something of a dragon whisperer.

While the film is contemplative, intimate and visually arresting, its deliberately slow pace lessens its dramatic impact.

Featuring strong performances and excellent effects work, The Vigil is a genuinely creepy debut which explores the ways in which our psychological demons can get their claws into our entire lives.

A moving exploration of the realities of growing old, Maite Alberdi’s documentary effectively blends documentary with dramatic elements to charming, if not always transparent, effect.

This intriguing feature debut from Bafta-nominated Scottish short filmmaker Louis Paxton makes effective use of its striking location and a trio of strong performances from Domhnall Gleeson, Gayle Rankin and Grant O’Rourke.

This is an undeniably moving story, and Winson — who died in 2015 aged 106 — a man worth honouring, but One Life comes across as an orchestrated tearjerker.

Beautifully designed, carefully measured and expertly cut, The Outfit is a handsome debut from director Graham Moore.

Director Gus Van Sant turns this fascinating true crime story into both an entertaining period drama and an evergreen tale of ordinary men pushed into desperate acts.

This romcom offers a heady slice of appealing escapism fuelled by the chemistry between its two leads.

For the most part The Life Of Chuck remains a moving drama that comes close to capturing the infinite value of an individual life.

Like I Lost My Body, Meanwhile On Earth is a moving elegy on the power of grief, and the lengths to which we are driven in order to feel whole. While it may not have quite the same visceral impact as Clapin’s animation, and culminates in a soft, somewhat-obvious ending, it nevertheless leaves its own mark.

This remake of the 2022 Danish-language chiller maintains much of what made the original so effective but, in swapping that film’s shocking ending for a more audience-friendly take, loses some of its bite. Nevertheless, a striking performance from James McAvoy keeps things interesting.

While the subtle world-building may be more consistently impressive than the familiar narrative, The Kitchen nevertheless makes its points with style.

Catak retains an effectively claustrophobic atmosphere and a tight focus on his characters and their issues.

Exceptional near-future production design and a strong dual performance from Mahershala Ali as a man and his clone fuel Benjamin Cleary’s impressive, thoughtful sci-fi debut.

The Convert promises the potential for plenty of fire and brimstone but, despite some committed performances, lacks the dramatic passion that would have really left a mark.

The film moves at a languid pace, with long periods of silence, and there’s not a great deal of action until a final cathartic orgy of violence. Yet this world is richly drawn.

While the entire cast impresses, standout performances come from Murphy and Lycurgo. They make it clear that Steve and Shy are two sides of the same coin, both shaped by past trauma and finding it almost impossible to exorcise their demons.

Gay Chorus Deep South draws its strength not only from its subject, but also the effective way in which it it presents its arguments.

As was the case with the source material, however, glamorous visuals and a kitschy vibe aren’t enough to paper over a threadbare plot, thinly drawn characters, obvious dramatic beats and an ill-advised central conceit.