After the self-contained and simmering Assistant this feels like Green’s attempt to make similar material more accessible.

Inu-Oh plays out as if it is a modern version of a song by an itinerant musician, relating a blend of history and folklore to us in terms we can understand.

Dillane is a remarkable discovery.

In the authentic way is captures this unique world, Jockey shares similarities with Chloé Zhao’s The Rider, another quietly meditative and poignant tale of life on the fringes.

Better Man works because it is that rare biopic which acknowledges its inherent ridiculousness, poking fun not only at the star machine but Williams himself (who, regardless of your opinion of his music, has always been quite open about his shortcomings).

It’s an accomplished directorial debut, focusing on the power of faith and the strength of motherhood to become symbiotic beasts fighting for dominance in its hero’s mind during her quest for autonomy.

In Kent’s beautifully balanced and exquisitely shot film, this is the best you can do for someone without negating their experience or agency. The Nightingale similarly does not ask its audience to identify with, root for, or relate to any of its characters. It only tells us to watch and to listen.

Soderbergh’s enjoyably swift chiller demonstrates genuine curiosity towards its occupiers and the choices they make through difficult circumstances.

Maestro is a film to be swept along by, as heady and bombastic as a golden-age Hollywood musical.

It’s a crowd-pleasing package, and Gosling is likeable enough to sell even the corniest jokes.

Relic is an exercise in control and denial.

While the beautiful directorial flourishes are still there – the fluid cinematography, striking performances and airtight soundtrack – Alex Wheatle is the first Small Axe film where the blend between the informative and the pointedly artistic feels a little unsettled.

There’s no doubting June Squibb’s charisma, and it’s refreshing to see her in a lead role at the grand age of 94.

Frenetic and obsessive, this is still a love story amid the gore and slick of body oil – a heart-pounding, iron-pumping descent into the heady heart of obsession and desire.

For a director whose career has centered human connection at every turn to create some of the most vulnerable and emotional stories on romance and human connection within the field of Japanese animation, it feels like a rare misfire.

What’s most important here is how Philibert captures the patience of the nurses and attendants, who never ever interrupt or talk down to the people whose conditions and wellbeing are L’Adamant’s raison d’être.

The feverish and feral performance by Araya drags the film back from operating as a wispy metaphor.

This is a high-energy caper with lots of larger-than-life characters circling to kill, and two innocents at its centre about whose fate and very survival, against all odds, we are made genuinely to care.

Carnivalesque both literally and metaphorically, it is a surreal affair, but for all its unnerving strangeness, the depressing subtext is spelt out very clearly.

It’s a film which man­ages to have its daft thrills and con­vinc­ing­ly piv­ot to wist­ful philo­soph­i­cal intro­spec­tion, and while there are cer­tain­ly some rough edges and unex­plored plot avenues, it prob­a­bly counts as one of Boyle’s strongest works this cen­tu­ry.

The humour is merciless.

Jarmusch’s film thrives in acknowledging the ultimate unknowability of our parents.

It’s a film about making art that feels good in the moment, as the act itself can be as rewarding – and possibly even more so – than the delivery of that art to an audience.

It’s a harrowing and powerful film that navigates the intricate terrain of going against tradition and longing for freedom, one that aims to extend the personal confines of cultural conflict beyond the fictional characters it portrays.

Kreutzer crafts an elegant portrait that grants this historical figure a new lease of agency and autonomy.

Vibrant, wicked and welcoming, [Baker] is putting these people on the map like nobody else.

Delightfully, Islands doesn’t patronise viewers. The film refuses to confirm or deny suspicions. It’s an exhilarating feast from co-writers Gerster, Blaž Kutin and Lawrie Doran who pen this winding tale with sharp subtlety.

Soul-stirring. One of the most exceedingly lovely coming-of-age films in a long while.