There’s some familiar moral teachings, but Vinterberg at his most meditative and earnest is a joy to watch. Man isn’t cured of all ills – but he is acutely aware of just how many more rounds are worth having.

Hidden in Martello-White’s bold, assured calling card is a provocative allegory of black experience in white Britain, as characters get caught in an evolving conflict between estrangement and assimilation, individualism and inauthenticity, pride and self-loathing.

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.

Every woman’s uphill battle will look different, and here is one fleshed out admirably.

Everyone’s reaching for a system of support. In most cases, allowed by Koreeda with admirable generosity, they can latch on to one another.

As well as boasting an all-female crew, Martelli’s film exquisitely evokes Carmen’s muted revolutionary spirit, making for an invaluable demonstration of feminine revolutionary cinema.

Gilford’s tale of chosen family awash with bright blues and reds maintains a bold sense of hopefulness at a time when America’s LGBTQ+ population is bracing for the worst.

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.

It gets under your skin, with the audacious and cunning mystique of a magician who always has one more trick prepared. Bonello leaves us hypnotised and hungrily begging for more.

Burroughs believed in magic, and watching Queer, one has an inkling that Guadagnino does too.

Driver is very good in the lead, pulling back some of the favour lost on his futzed stereotypical take on an Italian in House of Gucci. But it’s Cruz who adds the real nitro to this film.

For me, Close gets to the heart of something I know all too well: bone-deep loneliness, grief, sadness and desperation that is hard to articulate, much less as a young child. To show this so masterfully, and without an ounce of judgement, make Close a small wonder.

Alpha is as thorny as her previous two features, but there’s something lonely and longing here too.

This coming-of-age tale from debut writer/director Louise Courvoisier features its fair share of darkness, but it’s shot through with compassion and humour. The film is a testament to resilience in the face of hardship, and a hymn to the Jura region where Courvoisier herself grew up.

Nearly every character in Bring Her Back is drowning in the depths of despair and desperately clinging on for dear life. Some flail and give into their worst instincts, some sink into oblivion, and others break the waves of grief and cruelty, albeit emerging with terrible scars.

Last Swim is a compelling, textured and authentic London coming-of-age story anchored by an exciting new generation of acting talent.

Big budget superhero flicks are a dime a dozen. Woman at War takes a sidelong glance at what it means to look, sound and act like a fighter – one hellbent on serving the world’s greater good.

This is a Serious Movie that engages the intellect with compelling depictions of place, time and people. The ensemble cast is full of small characters with personalities that reveal themselves through political quirks and related creativity.

It is ecstatically violent, both celebrating and interrogating its own killing spree, as it races towards its final destination.

The tight framing ensures we never lose focus of the anxiety gnawing away at him, while small gestures of humanity are balanced against the harshest measures our punitive society can impose.

Gerwig nails how mothers and daughters argue – always at each other’s throat. Because of the tonal breadth of the film, different shades of feeling are found in each grudge match. Love as a combative war of words is an energising force.

Playful in its blocking and heavy on Altmanesque zooms, the movie’s textured visual language complements the script’s comedic and dramatic concerns, enhancing their impact rather than being an excessive distraction.

Cemented by Efira’s restrained, empathetic performance, Paris Memories is a deft exploration of recovery, and a moving tribute to Winocour’s brother Jérémie and other victims and survivors.

Renck’s film floats along with a unique grace, reckoning with the weight of paternal legacy and human folly with sincerity, achieving something quite profound in the process.

Although A Different Man slightly runs out of steam in its second half, it’s an effectively atmospheric and idiosyncratic thriller, deftly examining the patronising attitudes that prevail regarding difference and disability, and the knotty topics of authorship and entitlement to other peoples’ stories.

The relentless pace of the dialogue is at times exhausting, and the tone never really varies, yet this is forgiven when, hours after viewing, you find yourself grinning into the ether, remembering standout hoots from the cornucopia of Meyerowitz tales.

Williams and Uzeyman work in a mode of rich ideas and vibes, both so plentiful that the narrative obliqueness feels less alienating and more like an inviting challenge. It earns the attention it demands.

Perhaps the most surprising thing about Blink Twice is that its message of female solidarity feels sincere without being cynically corporate. Rather than patting itself on the back for highlighting the importance of women’s relationships, there’s an understanding that women are not a monolith, and embracing each other’s complexities enables us to fight structural inequality better.