To follow-up a successful film is a daring achievement in itself, but to surpass it is something else, and that’s what DuBois does here.

The Cave is a raw, urgent film about one of the great humanitarian crimes of our times, made all the starker for the utter lack of a global response.

As with much of Miyazaki’s own output, the film offers a winning heroine and a joyful dip into Japanese folklore, even if it does not stand up against the studios most celebrated works.

With The Irishman, Scorsese offers us his first truly autumnal film – a picture about age’s slow, inevitable decline. There are the signature dolly shots, the period pop music, the bursts of brutality, but there is also a frail melancholy we have rarely glimpsed in even his statelier films.

With quite a simple plot, it’s not a particularly challenging or unpredictable storyline, but it’s elevated by great performances, refreshingly dry humour, bold cinematography by Stefan Duscio, and a vibrant original score by François Tétaz.

Mystify: Michael Hutchence is an impeccably assembled, comprehensive tribute to a rock legend and is entirely worthy of being mentioned in the same breath as the aforementioned Winehouse doc.

Laverty and Loach have created another hard-hitting, powerful film, spiked with humour and moments of rare but profound humanity.

In giving rope to Bannon and hoping that he’ll hang himself, we’re instead forced to watch him fashion a lasso and play at being John Wayne, with Morris seemingly powerless to stop him.

Poignantly reflecting the intimate connections humans can create in a short space of time, Chained for Life is a rich and rewarding experience.

Mercier has a presence about him that’s unshakable.

It’s refreshing to see a character with Down Syndrome treated with depth and intelligence, in control of their own story and not being patronised. Gottsagen is truly a shining light, bringing a strong, wonderfully rich performance -and brilliant comic timing- as Zak to the film.

The reticent interactions of Lanthimos’ trio of despairing souls mirrors the faded hopes of a transitory generation of dreamers, yet sadly Kinetta is too lost amongst the small, ostensibly insignificant gestures of its characters to truly grasp the larger movements occurring within the periphery.

While comparisons to Moonlight are not without merit, The Last Tree bucks the coming-of-age blueprint in new, specific ways.

Memory certainly makes a good go of it, weaving together industrial production history with its mythic, pulp and artistic inspirations. The disparate strands of Alien’s origins have never quite been connected like this in a popular documentary, but billing this as the “untold story” of Scott’s film is a bit of a stretch.

The tradition of star-worship and auteur theory has unnecessarily diminished the key roles of others. Thankfully, Making Waves gives these genius-level background figures their well-earned due.

Those looking for a complex, funny and touching family will be more than rewarded for seeking this out.

Scenes come and go with a weightlessness that has nothing to do with zero gravity.

At just over three-hours, So Long, My Son is an emotionally wrenching film that’s epic in scope but intimate in feeling.

Saint Maud is the dive into obsession, isolation and urban deprivation that you need right now.

For Sama is a clarion call to the ignorant West and a testament to the sustaining power of unconditional love in the face of absolute horror. It is terrible to witness and absolutely essential viewing for all.

Saturday Fiction certainly demands patience, shrouded at first in a smog of exposition.

As both director and performer, Waititi is on top form.

This is pop-punk filmmaking – vibrant, disposable, and shallow. Still, it’s difficult to care about the nutritional content of your confectionary when it tastes this sweet.

Babyteeth is a funny, vibrant and deeply moving piece of work. Its flaws are the flaws of youth, overcompensating for boredom with frenetic hyperactivity.

The Temple’s antics are a hilarious middle finger to the establishment, while, their stand against hypocrisy and the Evangelical Right’s blatantly theocratic mission to take control of the levers of power feels vital.

If there is any real complaint to be levelled at Color Out of Space, it’s that it has more ideas than it knows what to do with.

Made up of a series of related but not necessarily connected vignettes, each filmed with a static camera, they resemble New Yorker cartoons scripted by Samuel Beckett.

Is The Painted Bird exaggerated? Does it go too far? Does it break the limits of taste? “Yes” on all counts. Walking out is an understandable and valid reaction but watching, getting angry, suffering and approaching understanding is also important too.