The film itself is utterly uncontroversial, solid, occasionally stolid, and perfectly fine.

Superficiality soaks the entire film.

Hopefully, Soderbergh’s film will raise more awareness as well as a chuckle.

A formally dazzling, half-comic portrait of a community struggling against the tides of change.

As heartbreaking as it is acutely observed, Hogg’s deep-diving autobiographical film is a beautiful, confessional tell-all about the brief joys and enduring tragedy that helped her find her voice as an artist.

Spall and Redgrave are both magnificent, rising above the material in a way only talented actors can. One wonders what they could have done with more interesting and passionate material.

Phoenix has created a masterful performance for a film which itself feels like a masterpiece: a cracked masterpiece.

The truth is that The Truth is an above-average French comedy and Kore-eda has succeeded in a finely wrought act of ventriloquism and diva worship. But the Japanese director’s fans can be forgiven for thinking above average is not good enough for such an accomplished filmmaker.

At the heart of Marriage Story are two career-best performances from Driver and Johansson. There is sensitivity, wit and intelligence in abundance, and in one barnstorming scene the kind of raw emotional nudity that’s rarely captured on screen: it’s the painful core of the movie which the laughter might ease but can’t erase.

The Cordillera of Dreams is a stirring look at a nation still recovering from the brutalisation meted out by General Pinochet’s callous and paranoid actions, but Guzmán goes further to offer his opinion of the present issues facing the country, specifically neoliberalism’s assault on land, resources and people.

Pain and Glory is a study of acceptance, revelation and reconciliation; it is about cinema’s relationship with the past and its power to reshape and cohere memory as a means of coming to terms with it.

The revelations and images contained within are individually resonant and telling of a wider picture, but there’s a sense that Wang, or perhaps her financiers, are cautious of pushing too far. Unfortunately, this winds up leaving One Child Nation a muddle of confused half-messages which reach for and fall slightly short of an admirable goal.

Despite its lunkish, ludicrous – and frankly cynical – qualities, this entry retains much of the appeal of previous entries.

It’s a valiant call to arms, a beacon of defiance, but one that could have burned more violently than it ultimately does.

Through Eklöf’s ruthless observations on sex, class and family, one comes to view this world with a cold-blooded voyeuristic gaze.

Jarmusch has opted for a stumbling dead so indulgently pleased with itself that it resembles little more than a precocious home movie filled with familiar faced pals all of whom find the joke funnier than any audience will.

The directors’ regard Hatidze with reverence and respect, allowing her the space to feel the tragedy and confusion of her plight and to sit with her melancholy as her life is changed by forces she cannot control.

The result is a formally loose, but dizzyingly dense and morally forthright examination of national attitudes and the myopia of nostalgia told through ranging meta-constructs and highfalutin debate.

It’s a mesmerising watch for fans of Cohen’s music, a fitting portrait sewn artfully together, and given a greater intimacy by dint of the fact Broomfield himself spent time in Hydra in his twenties and befriended Marianne whilst there. The only glaring absence is the lack of commentary from Cohen himself on their relationship.

The Current War feels like a history lesson with interesting visuals, rather than a compelling, fully-realised historical drama.

Like Pride Rock itself, this remake seems a spectacle to behold afar, but when you step closer all you can see are its monotonous shades of grey.

After all the awards Varda has received, and the tomes of literature that others have written on her, Varda by Agnès, aptly titled, is a carefree, bold and resounding attempt to self-define and articulate the themes, concerns and intentions of her work.

Aster has concocted a weird mixture of dread, black humour and pathos, conjuring sympathy for the devil in a feverish hallucination.

Vita and Virginia is a remarkably chaste and safe film given its wealthy subject matter.

The film is a compelling, concerning artefact which shows demagoguery in action, without coming across as heavy-handed.

In drawing on a melange of influences, Ho’s film succeeds in using fractured time as way of puzzling together the essential drives that move a city and its inhabitants.

Taking its cues from the cinema of Dario Argento and Italian horror, In Fabric, gives audiences the best British horror film since Don’t Look Now.

Far From Home nails its characters, chemistry and sense of humour, while fumbling the action and visuals.