Simon Kinnear

Initially promising, this Aussie weepie branches unconvincingly into magic realism, with symbolism so clunky it hampers Gainsbourg’s involving turn.

The initially cryptic plotting and low-key realism are familiar from Iranian dramas; what’s striking is how Rasoulof shifts into such a lucid, gut-punching tale of persecution. The film’s flaws are forgivable; its very existence should be applauded.

A timely, inspiring parable of protest, directed with sinewy style and driven by Braga’s rock-solid lead performance.

The film’s power lies in its use of archive footage, voiceover and even Ebert’s computerised speech translator to keep the writer’s voice alive.

The characters are unfailingly polite, whatever their grievances, and there isn’t a single false note in this generous, affectionate portrait of people making the best of their situation.

The simple approach teases fascinating parallels between art and marriage: essential to both, it seems, are a thick skin and an optimism verging on madness.

Shot with a retro chic, their courtship is crisp, but there’s enough grit in this Cannes prize-winner to stop it floating away.

The result is a shrewd look at classroom etiquette and an achingly sad study of grief-stricken solitude, built on ace performances by Fellag and the kids-especially 11-year-old scene stealer Sophie Nélisse.

With film labs closing down and new formats springing up all the time, this is a timely stock-take of 21st Century cinema.

Equally cool and cruel, stuffed with subtext, this ‘Iranian fairytale’ weaves its spell to a flip, hip ending. Amirpour is one to watch.

Arrietty’s craft and charm will invite universal acclaim.

Their wry, odd-couple chemistry is comfortingly familiar, but kept fresh by an insouciant realism that deftly avoids exotic cliché.

Korean maestro Bong Joon-ho’s (The Host) playfully off-kilter Hitchcockian thriller refuses to play by genre rules, stir-frying slow-burn menace and Freudian drama into unpredictable combinations.

Smith casts non-pro Venkatesh Chavan alongside Bollywood star Nana Patekar to achieve credible chemistry, enhanced by his choice of quiet observation rather than Slumdog -style pizzazz and the delicate emotional kick and finespun simplicity of a short story.

It’s technically a doc, but neither Rivers nor his inscrutable subject is interested in backstory.

Vikander brings fresh emotional weight to the familiar scenario of WW1 grief, ensuring that this mostly avoids the traps of dull, dutiful heritage cinema.

It’s a poetic elegy to a lost tribe that conjures up the Meryans’ secret lifestyle via surreal rituals and stunning widescreen visuals, although an over-explained voiceover and clunky symbolism sometimes weaken the spell.

Driven by a committed turn from Witherspoon, Jean-Marc Vallée confirms himself as the go-to director for triumph-over-adversity character studies.

Mostly, it’s a study of an analogue ghost turned digital star; yet because Maloof is vested in building Maier’s reputation, the film leaves some uncomfortable questions about the ethics of posthumous fame.

It takes real talent to make something so studied feel this soufflé-light, especially in the Hatchers’ charming naturalism. Trouble is, Bujalski is too successful – in the end, everything is left hanging.

Propelled by Lust’s performance, this is a fascinating study of solitude and sociopathic obsession, up to a point.

Matthew Akers’ document of the event skews close to hagiography but is consistently informative in charting Abramović’s career, and genuinely engaging thanks to his subject’s witty, unpretentious presence.

Terence Nance’s unique film, freely mixing autobiography, animation and artiness, is a dizzyingly complex collage about romance and memory.

The culture clash comedy cleaves to predictability but the story’s specificity sustains its perceptive look at the human impact of post-9/11 jingoism.

It’s best to sit back and luxuriate in the film’s unhurried pleasures: crisp Mediterranean settings, Alexandre Desplat’s mournful score and a clutch of likeable performances.

Rural life is familiar terrain for British cinema, but with Barnard as our guide, it remains an enthralling destination.