The film may not blow minds, but it is a rough-around-the-edges adventure with heart.

As superficially entertaining as it all is, it feels like Loquès is on a mission to keep things fun, lively and romantic, to the point where Nino wouldn’t be a massively different film if its hero had been given a clean bill of health.

Despite feeling like a fairly typical genre exercise in some ways, it’s a film that resists easy answers and categorisation. Contemporary cinematic works like this are only made possible when the stars align in terms of funding, talent, a degree of luck and a singular vision.

Chalfant is a stellar lead, to say the least.

Despite some missteps, directors Varghese and Hough Hobbs clearly have put a lot of love into this project, an independent animation that showcases the brightness of queer joy in the darkness.

To be honest, the first half of the film is a little scattershot, and it’s hard to know what the filmmakers are actually driving at in terms of a thesis (or, indeed, ample justification for a 5th run-out). Yet when Jessie’s big scene arrives, everything appears to naturally coalesce and it’s plain sailing from there on in.

The film director creates the sensation for viewers of being dragged through the various levels of hell across the course of 2.5 turgid hours, riddled with incomprehensible dialogue, baffling accents and some of the most egregious continuity in recent film history.

By reframing climate change as a crisis of memory, Dosa achieves what many climate documentaries struggle to accomplish. This is not a eulogy for a lost world, but a reminder of our responsibility to remember it.

Emerging blinking into the foyer after Disclosure Day, one isn’t confronted with a sense of wonder or curiosity, but instead of abject confusion at the incoherence of Koepp’s script and lack of technical ambition on Spielberg’s end. Perhaps this is the film’s real truth: never underestimate mankind’s capacity for disappointment.

The franchise’s backbone and greatest asset has always been the duo of Hall and Faris, two of the century’s most prodigiously skilled – if criminally neglected – comic performers, and this film has the good sense to foreground their genius.

Erupcja is a delightful detour that soaks up the sights of Warsaw with a curious eye.

As a punchy portrait of a young woman railing against a dreary future, Köln 75 is diverting and entertaining. As a portrait of a singular artist who pushed at the boundaries of his form, it’s somewhat less accomplished. In blending the two it ends up caught in a middle ground that seems unsure who the film is really for.

Backrooms ends with most of its mysteries still unplumbed. Like those yellow-wallpapered hallways themselves, it is endearingly open-ended and peculiarly captivating.

The film works because the earworm at is core is exactly the type of slushy ballad that you would imagine would capture the public imagination, yet it all hinges on Danny’s character being completely unscrupulous despite the fact that he’s introduced as a sound and reasonable guy.

Beyond representational qualms, Tuner is simply a bad film. The first safe-cracking sequence might be reasonably entertaining, but repeated over and over it becomes extremely dull.

It’s a slick and fitfully amusing affair that never quite penetrates deeper than the surface in its broad critique of the uncomfortable intersections between culture and state.

It’s a strange, uniquely compelling film, empathetic enough to make any carnivore think twice about their chicken nuggets while never becoming a screed about meat-eating or farming. Moreover, it’s a great introduction of the irreverent eye of György Pálfi, who has just as unique a view on the world as his beloved hen heroine.

Beyond occasionally marvelling at the lively work of the puppeteers, there’s not a lot to hold on to in The Mandalorian & Grogu, not even the supposed father and son connection between its marquee characters.

It’s a brilliant showcase of both McKellen and Coel’s talents. The contrast between them is rich and layered, down to the detail of costume designer Eleanor Baker’s choice of knitwear and corduroys in warm and cool tones.

The film takes great pains to give both sides of the debate an equal platform, but it’s clear what side is the one of rational common sense, empathy and creativity.

While the subtextual gleanings may not be particularly illuminating or fresh, Obsession delivers everything you could want from a story that is as terrifying, maddening, and tragic all at once.

While it’s a decently entertaining exploration of an interesting figure’s life, there is not much of substance to say regarding the treatment of female artists or the lasting legacy of the Surrealist movement.

Romería is loyal to its sense of withholding almost until the very end. It is then, finally, that Simon reaches the grand apex of her journey of self-reflection, one that holds in the stunning clarity of carefully chosen words a moving encompassing of how one can only build a sturdy foundation for the future after lovingly repairing the unrectified cracks of the past.

While all the variations on A Star​’s formula are tailored to a specific moment in time, what’s most interesting about Kokuho is the way it trails through an extended period of Japanese history, embedding one in the culture without feeling the need to explain its appeal.

Despite the heavy metaphors and emotionally weighted hauntings, there’s nothing new here – it’s all painfully dull and familiar horror territory.

Make no mistake – The Devil Wears Prada 2 scratches every itch a legacy sequel ought, with callbacks and cameos and jokes galore. But if the first film is Tom Ford and Calvin Klein then this time it’s Vivienne Westwood and Alexander McQueen – less slick, and with something darker underneath.

Running at just under 90 minutes, the film Ekner has crafted not only examines the politics and socioeconomics of each country she visits, but also channels the atmosphere of each locale via potent vistas and exhilarating revelry. The danger she speaks of early on in the film is expressed as a looming threat, yet the final result yields the same mood of a wildly passionate love affair.

As with the titular Ravel piece, this is a work that is mellifluous, melodious and mysterious in equal measure. A Sphinx-like Beer, once again, seems to connect with her director on a level which transcends the purely professional, and through her economic yet forceful use of body language and expression, she makes certain that the film adheres perfectly to Petzold’s immaculate calculations.