Strengths lie in this film’s commitment to understanding an extraordinary, reclusive woman, its weaknesses in a dogged fidelity to relaying the small events of each passing year.

The reck­less tac­tics and brazen skull­dug­gery employed by Hayes are car­ried off with a know­ing wink and a toothy grin, but are also plain­ly ludi­crous – to the extent you may end up park­ing your sus­pen­sion of dis­be­lief. Still, when the results are this thrilling, it seems churl­ish to nit­pick about such fan­ci­ful nar­ra­tive manoeuvres.

This is Nighy’s film and his impact is felt even when he’s nowhere to be seen. But when he is, it’s all the more stunning, not least down to cinematographer Jamie D Ramsay’s striking visuals which pay homage to ’50s melodramas, with colours so vivid it feels like it’s too good to be true and will snap back to reality at any moment.

As each subsection gains steam, the film rises to full intensity before letting the pressure regulate, and so goes the cycle. The unconventional momentum keeps things fresh without overstuffing the narrative with too many moving parts at any one given time.

It may not all add up but this is an ambitious and taboo-tackling debut with an atmosphere that lingers thanks to gutsy performances from Colman and Buckley.

A Real Pain may set out its stall as an empathetic tour of pain, effortlessly exposing the quiet and chaos of the human condition through its multiple characters and the places they visit, but it is also distinctly a film about the boundaries and limits of love.

While other horror directors are busy chasing their tails trying to create genre defining moments, Ben Leonberg has succeeded creating a thrilling mid-budget horror that goes beyond pandering to animal lovers or tugging at our heartstrings.

Through all the accolades bestowed by colleagues, critics and even presidents, the documentary is at its strongest when it speaks to Moreno’s impact on future Latin American performers, giving them the role model she never had.

It’s an unhurried story, one which drinks in the details of existential ennui suffered by kids who are supremely aware of the fact that they’ll probably have to take a bullet very soon. The question that remains is which direction will it come from.

Their voice performances lend the story authenticity even at its most ridiculous, while constantly threatening to derail scenes into excitable or mocking chatter, and it’s an adorable delight whenever it does. That messiness in their conversations extends to the film’s thrilling and funny action sequences, mixing it up between slapdash improvisation and the fluidity of a seasoned martial artist.

In its third act the film falters a little, tailing off rather than coming to a conclusion – this could be a result of first feature teething problems, as at a svelte 85 minutes Funny Pages verges on feeling unfinished. Nevertheless, Zolghadri is a compelling lead, striving for maturity and authenticity when the safety and comfort of his parents’ house is but a short drive away.

Heretic may seek to rock your faith in the divine, but it truly fortifies one’s belief in Hugh Grant.

Along Came Love essays a type of bond where shared secrets eventually erupt, causing both tragedy and release.

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

Better overambitious than the opposite, and hopefully In Camera provides plenty more opportunities for Khalid and Rizwan, who so richly deserve them based on the strength of this feature.

Raimi uses Send Help as an opportunity to flex his patented formal dynamism, and while the camera is a little more sedate than the elasticised excesses of films like Evil Dead II or the underrated Darkman, he’s still a master of of using movement and framing to create emphasis and draw us closer to the characters and their heightened emotions.

Although it celebrates Morricone’s particular genius, this documentary is not greedy with the nostalgia it generates as it casts light on so many parts of 20th century culture.

Alongside beautifully-judged performances and management of a tricky tone, Boonnitipat and Thodsapon Thiptinnakorn’s sentimental but never saccharine screenplay nails something true and relatable about all the complicated responses we can have to the likely death of family.

The story unfolds at breakneck speed, with never a dull moment.

Paying homage to a true hometown pioneer, Stephens’ portrait of a gentleman who knows how to be nothing but entirely himself is a compassionate and colourful character study.

It’s also shot through with the outré symbolism and impulsivity that have long characterised its director’s long, strange career, particularly its late, nothing-to-prove stages. In short, Jerzy Skolimowski is 84 years young, and he is absolutely vibing.

It passes the test that all these films must undergo with flying colours: yes, it makes you want to watch those incredible movies.

It’s a pleasure to see Fraser given a role he can put his heart into, and his nuanced performance saves The Whale from turning into a ghoulish spectacle or a very artfully shot episode of TLC’s exploitative reality show ‘My 600lb Life’.

Wei maintains a highly individual, slippery and fascinating artistic sensibility all his own.

Hussain’s film deftly explores the emotional toll of existing as a modern man who feels out of step with the world around him.

A timely story of broken trust in institutions.

Sitting in the crux between comedy and horror, it presents both a stark reappraisal of conditional acceptance and a needle precision critique of mental health awareness.

While this version of events is perhaps not as accurate, its emotional honesty and narrative sincerity is unquestionable. It’s an incredibly heavy and sobering film, but one that has been made in the spirit of paying tribute to the Von Erich boys.