The King feels disconnected and unurgent. Despite some wonderful moments, it perhaps lacks the requisite majesty.

A Glitch in the Matrix’s incuriosity and unstructured approach to its material at best mirror its subjects’ modes of thinking; at worst, it is little more than a voyeuristic freak show.

It’s not that Abigail is terrible: all its pieces slip together where they should, but its for all its excessive violence and gore it is a dull, lifeless experience.

While nimbly handled, the closed loop of the film’s structure speaks to the brittle circularity of trauma, but prohibits it from plunging fully into its depths.

Put simply, the adaptation doesn’t work and the movie is instantly forgettable.

Amirpour is a talented director with a wonderful eye but her style lacks substance and her obvious influences - the Mad Max franchise and the wonderful LQ Jones film A Boy and his Dog - are so superior as to almost completely nullify her derivative contribution to the genre.

Lucy feels like the work of a filmmaker who has recovered his mojo.

Challenging, daring, provocative, disgusting - We are the Flesh is all those things and then some, but also superbly crafted and always visually compelling.

The performances are fine across the board and Nørgaard keeps things moving efficiently, but this is stylish but televisual fare, ram-packed with familiar hardboiled and shopworn tropes.

Its flesh and heart lie in the private and personal moments.

Capturing Neumann’s fall from grace, this film illuminates some of the most hard-hitting professional and social anxieties of our age.

A lacklustre, clichéd and at times wholly unbelievable film.

Later remade as The Bird Cage, this first adaptation of Jean Poiret’s play is as moving as it is hilarious in its depiction of moral hypocrisy and familial love.

The pacing is methodical but breakthroughs in the case and anxious moments where all is feared lost generate real tension.

Choosing to focus more time on the uncoordinated instinctual trends of the subconscious rather than the moralising role of the cognisant, Enemy lacks the humanity to relate to on an emotional level, ultimately tempering the brooding anxiety and distilling our intrigue into mild curiosity towards the oblique narrative rather than fostering the original menace into something more substantial.

The same ragtag energy which propels it can occasionally become distracting, and there are sequences in the script which feel gratuitous. However, its independent spirit shines through gloriously, reminding the viewer that, really, a decent story and some talented actors is all that’s required to make a movie.

The final moments veer too far towards the melodramatic, especially when the rest of the movie has exhibited a preference for the intellectual powers of argument, logic and reason, however the sense of desperation and accompanying symbolism is tragically potent.

Kröger manages well with moments of pure cinema in between, and a particularly out-there moment of noise and mayhem which threatens to crush the film and the audience in an audiovisual avalanche. There’s an immersive strangeness that only David Lynch has snuck into mainstream cinema.

In a just world, Hadžihalilović would be as acclaimed as somebody like Tim Burton, whose greatest films boast a spiritual connection of sorts to the French director.

While it’s obvious that fans of Lavelle and his many creative ventures will get the most out of The Man From Mo’Wax, this remains a fascinating insight into both the hubris and vulnerability of the music industry, which never shies away from casting it’s subject matter in a sometimes unfavourable light.

No amount of tight corridors and shots of CCTV monitors ever make protagonist Tatyana feel in peril: this, far more than derivative monsters and confusing themes, is Sputnik’s fatal error.

Last Breath makes for a very decent entry into the survival genre of films like Touching the Void with the added appeal of the submarine movie and all the claustrophobia and intensity that comes with that.

Richard Marquand opts largely for more intimate surrounding and manages to squeeze out some memorable moments of Hitchcockian suspense and tension.

Touching sensitive nerves a little tentatively when a firm prod would have been preferable, Bolshoi Babylon dances around some of the harder issues at hand, remaining inquisitive rather than intrusive and asking more question than it answers

An evocative portrait ... Fiennes utilises a good balance of biography and ballet; emphasising how much Nureyev loved to dance and why, when forced, he chose artistic freedom over love of country.

While on the whole Vice succeeds in offering a highly original take on Cheney’s time in office, it does have a number of weaknesses.

Lilting looks set to linger on in the memory of those who seek it out for weeks, months and perhaps even years to come.

Caniba offers no trite explanations or condemnations of Sagawa. Instead, we are offered a small window into his reality.