Phuong Le

My Sailor, My Love is worth watching for Walker’s excellent portrayal of a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown and the damage accruing from being the perpetual caretaker of the family.

Boonie Bears: Guardian Code is not going to blow the minds of the adults – or the more discerning little ones – but this can make for a fun, though possibly not very memorable, cinema outing.

Believable performances, along with a deep understanding of place, lend Drunk Bus a cheeriness that is entertaining and heartwarming.

Considering the complex sociopolitics of the region, this representation of community and geographical identity is much more fragile than it seems, and should not be taken for granted.

Despite beings shaky in terms of tone – as well with its occasionally obtrusive handheld camera movements – Lola impresses with its refreshing blend of analogue and digital flourishes.

In fashioning a call for better sex education in the American school system, Liu is an enjoyably charismatic guide, as his doubts and questions about the birds and the bees mirror many of our own.

A Prince might reinterpret the pastoral through a queer lens, but the point of view remains a white, French one.

Thanks to the breezy chemistry between its largely Inuit cast, Slash/Back has an endearing charm that is hard to resist. From a first-time film-maker, this is a fresh, entertaining update on well-worn tropes.

What 100 Meters lacks in narrative subtlety and pacing, it makes up for in dazzling visuals.

Though effective in filling in the gaps of Chau’s story, the impressionistic animation dramatising his final moments commits a similar sin as the swashbuckling tales of yore, and makes a spectacle out of a tragedy that is ultimately not all that mysterious or abstract – but in fact grounded in material sociopolitical contexts.

While the lurid twists and turns are enjoyable in a 90s erotic thriller kind of way, the sudden shift towards suspense hampers Padukone’s performance.

The resulting documentary is anything but conventional.

Here is a visual portal to a hidden side of a controversial artist – one that is not for sale.

The deft camerawork showcases a dynamic Ethiopia – from tiny villages to the gritty underbelly of bustling Addis Ababa – and, let’s face it, everyone loves a good training montage.

Forgettable story aside, the film is a visual treat, full of joy and zaniness.

In addition to confronting the past, Mourão’s film also makes possible an intergenerational dialogue between Martim and his son, the young musician seen in the beginning; he also harbours his own secrets. Emerging from their conversation are sparks of understanding and compassion, which constitute the emotional beating heart of the film.

The film really comes alive when it simply lets Donna be the star of the show. From her spontaneous dancing in the streets to a moving reunion with her sister, her warmth and vivacity towards others distils the essence of LGBTQ+ solidarity.

Instead of letting the visuals do the talking, the voiceover steps in to verbalise the characters’ feelings, and the need to provide multiple backstories through flashback veers into over-exposition. Still, Departures remains a highly thoughtful exploration of love and identity, and an excellent showcase for northern talents on film.

The film is elevated by the tender rapport between MacKenzie and Smith; when a film-maker is clearly captivated by their subject, the film can compel viewers to fall in love as well.

Shot in tight closeup, Domagalska’s documentary brilliantly conveys the unseen psychological toll of this social work. At the same time, the film overflows with the joy of activism.

Revolving around a tender true love story, this first narrative feature from seasoned documentary director Heidi Ewing (which won a couple of awards at Sundance) is a fascinating – though at times uneven – blend of film styles.

The recurring dependence on sexual violence as a shock tactic is, however, a desensitising misstep. Nevertheless the assured command of style situates Jabbaz as an impressive new voice in horror cinema.

Fizzy and bubbly, the film feels like a cool glass of lemonade on a hot day, leaving us with a pleasant reminder of the thrills that summer can bring.

This extraordinary story of an extraordinary person is told via bland film-making reminiscent of a public service announcement.

While the juxtaposition of different timelines results in occasional clunkiness, the breathtaking cinematography more than makes up for the uneven telling. In the face of global climate change, these images of the glacial otherworldliness of Alaska carry a wistful splendour and a bittersweet urgency.

The kooky premise of Jumbo – a young woman falling madly in love with a fairground ride – might invite bafflement but Zoé Wittock’s idiosyncratic comedy-drama is an entertaining blend of sensory overload and sincere empathy.

The refreshing – and rare – blend of Jewish humour and horror makes Attachment a fun Valentine’s Day watch for those who like their queer romance with a sprinkle of spooky chill.

As Sokol’s style matures, Glob’s direction also becomes visibly more assured. The meandering beginning in which the film-maker’s narration does a lot of the heavy lifting soon becomes more stylistically coherent.