Sasha’s parents are inspiring in their determination to give their daughter the childhood every girl her age deserves.

Maybe not quite enough to warm a sceptic’s heart, but certainly a pleasant enough outing for your nan.

Rather than critiquing practices it purports to condemn, The Other Lamb becomes party to the evils it depicts.

Doing his part to keep his father’s work alive and relevant, Gorō Miyazaki steers the Ghibli ship even further away than Yonebayashi dared, resulting in the studio’s most cheerily radical film to date.

The Suicide Squad is crass, noisy and brash – a disturbing glimpse inside the mind of James Gunn.

Reeves and Moss are magnificent at resurrecting Neo and Trinity, and they blend exquisitely into Lana Wachowski’s matured style of filmmaking.

Titane is a genuinely weird, sweet thing, even in a time where those descriptors get thrown around far too much. There has not been a more surprising motion picture in years.

The Humans won’t work for many – it’s a slow burn with a mean ending. Some may insist that the story lacks cogency offstage, but it’s those frenetic, intimate and often senseless moments that justify its title.

No Way Home feels like a greatest hits package specifically designed to hit every fan service button. It doesn’t give us any indication of where this story is going, or why we should care.

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.

Lamb’s premise is intriguing too – a pleasing twist on the familiar horror trope of monstrous motherhood. Even so, the imaginative conceit is let down by a rather sudden and underwhelming climax.

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.

It all feels a little toothless.

While Sorkin, Kidman and Bardem breathe life into these sitcom icons, their lives ultimately prove too big and too messy to fit within this film’s constraints.

By capturing the culture of fetish, party and riot, feminism, sex and politics, this unique blend of styles offers a fitting representation of a punk subculture that gave ’80s queer and feminist activism its vibrancy.

Through his infectiously likeable and talented protagonists, Yates’ rollicking dialogue captures the brilliance of youth in all its bold foolishness and earnestness.

Visually and dramatically, the film doesn’t reinvent any wheels, nor does it set out too, instead happy to splice together a satisfyingly intense period drama with some nice moments of genre pay-off.

The tone never defines the stakes in such grave terms, but that’s the key to the potency of Mills’ cinema: life’s pivotal turns come in idle moments, from inconspicuous sources. All it takes is the willingness to listen.

The dynamic of the central four is a pleasure incarnate. Equal parts funny and warm, each actor brings a specific dynamism that, when combined with the rest, crackles with life and love.

Despite an excessive 150-minute runtime, a fair share of abrupt tonal shifts and a somewhat heavy-handed execution of metaphors threatening to rob the anthology of power and cohesion, the dramatically consistent depictions of contempt, grief and rage bring an adequate sense of uniformity.

[Chon's] execution is heavy-handed, with the ending steering into a mawkish spectacle which undercuts the seriousness of the topic at hand.

It’s a deeply unpleasant and reactionary film that even compelling central performances can’t save.

It’s a rare, backwards looking misfire for this director who has always been at the vanguard of cinematic innovation. The care and attention that has gone into the making of this film is undeniable, though at times it feels misplaced and others overwrought.

Hassan doesn’t need to provide a grand framing device. You sense their powerlessness, you are embedded within it. There is no omniscient camera to take the audience away because there is no freedom of movement for the Fazilis.

Faces Places is a subtly self-reflexive documentary that swims against this tide, inviting audiences to see that filmmaking is a process of having conversations with people, and enveloping each individual and their private creativity within the wider collaborative process. Art is a form of social work or, rather, it can be with the right people at the helm.

The lure of intense mystery that beguiles you into trying to solve it again and again; the transference of an intoxication that makes you feel physically different afterwards. It sounds hyperbolic to describe art as having such power, but surely the reason we care about art is a belief that such power exists. High Life is too layered, too ambiguous, too potent to be about any one thing.

A striking portrait of Shelly’s life that will have you seeking out her work and wondering what could have been.

A Hidden Life is, underneath it all, a love story. The Jägerstätters are a private microcosm imprinted by history. The Nazi regime is almost incidental, as these people could be anywhere opposing any evil regime. The substance of the film is buoyed by unselfish, enlightened love, shaped by a couple’s faith in each other’s morality.