Sarah Ward

Demonstrating a light touch — underscored by a whimsy-leaning score and overtly comic moments, but never delving into flimsiness or farce — Yan handles her chosen topic, and the tapestry of tales it’s woven through, with care.

Indeed, the fact that the movie’s youthful lead will have to say goodbye to his childhood might be inevitable, but it never feels as standard as it sounds. Assisting immensely are some naturalistic performances, particularly from Yasan.

This is a beautiful, heart-swelling animated movie, to be certain, but it’s also one that knows that such picturesque sights and pleasant sensations are only part of the equation.

An intimate film tackling an expansive subject — the treatment of refugees around the globe, and the way the world processes the traumas that lead to such urgent, widespread immigration — this is a poignant and morally complex drama.

The film’s coming-of-age story might remain familiar, its emotional arc may be broad, and its messages about self-belief and taking chances fall into the tried-and-tested camp, but DeBlois still builds an engaging, sincere and tender world brimming with depth and detail.

Makala takes the observational approach to the hardships of Congolese life, charting a tough but insightful journey.

Like taking a dip in alluring yet choppy surf, as its characters do often, it’s equally vivid and calm, swelling with emotion yet still in its approach.

Affecting as well as perceptive in how it intimately depicts the awkward blossoming of youth, Heartstone wades into the crowded coming-of-age genre with just the right amount of confidence, compassion and clear-eyed style.

The film’s destination might be apparent, but the trek through past regrets, race relations and the central subject itself never feels drawn out.

Promised Land deftly flits from biography to impact study to cinematic essay on the boom and bust of happiness-peddling myths, drawing a clear line from the music king to the current US leader.

While little here eschews genre conventions, Bana’s weathered performance and striking work by DoP Stefan Duscio ensure that this is a gripping-enough watch, even as it ticks a torrent of familiar boxes.

In its most poignant, resonant moments, the film feels both devastatingly personal and affectingly revelatory: a simultaneously forceful and tender piece of existential contemplation that’s intricately tied to Wilczynski’s life but still universal in its themes. But when it meanders, which is perhaps more often than it should, it requires serious commitment from its audience.

Gabriel and the Mountain offers a moving look at the transformative nature of travel, both on those hopping around the world in search of a new perspective and those they encounter along the way.

An energetic, irreverent, autobiographically inspired affair filled with key swapping, children running amok and a rotting 200-tonne whale, the film proves a mixed bag but, given the era on display, its messiness always feels appropriate.

One of the most astute aspects of Morales and Duplass’ script is how it captures the twists and turns of a new friendship that is buoyed by excitement and yet remains tentative, and how it navigates the constant shifts that come with both fresh and established relationships.

The notion that lives and loves are forged and defined in everyday moments isn’t unique; however it feels both accurate and earned here.

A feature that might not always surprise in its story, but succeeds in its authenticity.

As predictable as their tale may be, Chaplin, Tena and Verdaguer serve their characters well, with the former and latter particularly impressing with the material.

Pondering imbalances of power is always timely, and here, it adds an extra layer of urgency and commentary to an already potent and perceptive offering.

Myers crafts an effervescent yet astute splash of teen life that delights the eyes, warms the heart and tickles the funny bone in equal measures.

Aping sporting conventions, The Workers Cup relates a riveting underdog tale about a quest for glory, while simultaneously probing the reality faced by the poorest people in the world’s wealthiest country.

[An] earnest, entertaining and imaginative old-meets-new adventure.

It’s a breezy trip for the star, making ample use of his usual charisma, urgency, grin and gift of the gab, though the late ’70s/early ’80s-set film doesn’t completely hit the mark.

While the narrative’s dramas feel paper-thin, even as they touch upon timely themes of equality, multiculturalism and the treatment of refugees, the feature’s optimism always shines.

If human resilience remains paramount in zombie films, Cargo goes a step further; here, recognising and redressing the divisive mistakes of the past is more important than merely surviving.

Digger’s loyalties always reside with Nikitas, his quest to keep his home and his devotion to the woodlands; yet Grigorakis shows an environment- and economic-fuelled tragedy, too.

It offers an astute perspective on the immigrant experience, multicultural communities, and trying to reconcile traditional and modern cultures — all while telling a tale of love and life that’s authentic, affectionate and amusing.

In addition to the obviously authentic rapport between the quietly compelling Hill and impressive first-timer Perham, populating the feature’s frames with as many non-actors as possible also adds detail and texture.