Character and psychology aren't really the point here. Bozon's world is one of adult grotesquerie splatting against the wall of youthful hostility.

It's a good-looking film and the three leads hold our attention, yet the lacklustre plotting and lack of narrative drive undercut The Man from U.N.C.L.E.'s overall charm.

The film itself is fairly conventional given the wildness of its subject matter and Jim Jarmusch's pedigree.

It is evident that her art is what she has used to plough through the attendant difficulties – lack of success and recognition, mental health issues – of the life she chose for herself. And as the documentary confirms, she has indeed been rewarded for it at long last.

Mektoub My Love is an often beguiling work, drenched in beauty and humour and an inclusive warmth.

The measured narrative and anti-climactic finale do mean that Mystery Road doesn’t pander to all tastes, and it never conforms to thriller conventions, but Sen has undoubtedly succeeded in fashioning a thoroughly engrossing journey into a modern Australian wilderness that’s well worth seeking out.

Campillo doesn't edit for our comfort and we feel both the tragedy and the boredom of death.

Gerard Johnson's sophomore feature might look on the outset like the type of London crime thriller usually populated by Jason Statham, but it's more emotionally complex than its outset gives it credit for.

In an age where many horror franchises attempt to adhere as close to the original film’s formula as possible, Hooper’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 is a fun reminder of a time when makers were able to rewrite their own rules and go for broke. This was never going to top what had gone before, and by acknowledging that, the filmmakers have crafted a wonderfully demented alternative in its place.

Rather than confront the guilt related to the sins of the past it paints over them in vivid colours, hoping the viewer will collude in its melodramatic muddying of the water.

Panahi keeps everything as softly spoken as his own onscreen presence and yet some of those quiet observations are devastating.

Its stately pace doesn't preclude Mr. Holmes (2015) from being a delightful romp all the same.

Ultimately, Everest is not concerned with the why, but with the how and it's grimly efficient at building up the drama, helped on by Clarke's wonderful character study, even if the film as a whole never quite reaches the dizzying heights of its subject.

As with Kaufman's own stunts, it's difficult to know what to take seriously.

The fear of old age’s erosion of our faculties, our agency and our relevance is a potent, almost paralysing one: the way we perceive and treat our elders invariably reveals something about ourselves. In her charming and off-kilter documentary The Mole Agent, Chilean director Maite Alberdi confronts that fear literally through the eyes of her subject.

While not entirely successful, the film’s sense of finality gives the main players space to grow, unhampered by the usual carousel of upcoming sequels and spin-offs.

Once seen, Aldrich’s What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? is hard to forget, as it charts the sad path of many a former child star to the backwaters of the Hollywood hills.

Killing Ground isn't terrible. Far from it, in fact. It uses the non-linear narrative structure well to toy with the audience and create a sense of mystery around the duel arcs of the characters involved.

Though it can't bear too much comparison with Sicario, Wind River is far better than its title suggests and a promising directorial debut.

If you can forgive the cardboard villains and suspicious editing, there is plenty here to hold your interest.

There’s a dark streak of comic absurdity running throughout Harold and Maude that serves a dual purpose; it gives the film its unique, heightened tone, but it also conversely grounds the more whimsical element by hinting at a greater darkness beyond the events portrayed within.

Del Toro’s latest ventures away from fantasy, revealing the monsters in this fable to be all too human.

Its lasting resonance and wider humanitarian message is diluted by a second half that drags it down.

Sono throws everything at the screen – samurai battles, shootouts, Cage shouting and threatening to karate chops the locals – but it rarely provides anything but the sense you’re watching bizarre performance art in place of a good film.

Once beyond the babble of the Mindfulness merchants, the latter half of the documentary, however, is far more interesting and compelling as Shen has his experts round on the noise pollution that so disrupts our lives.

The Capote Tapes show a talent that seemed to go to waste while at the same time teasing us with the possibility that there is more yet to come.

The Vatican using VR technology to seek out victims of the demonically possessed is an intriguing and weirdly logical progression for the 21st century (move over exorcists, now we have techxorcists), but what generally lets the movie down is its bland dialogue, bland casting, and routine approach to frights.

For all its heart and warmth, the desire to offer as many contrasting viewpoints as possible leads to a sense that the biggest elephant in the room isn’t really being dealt with. Support the Girls, ultimately, is a film about an industry built on sexism, that prefers not to dwell too long on the question of sexism itself.