Operatic in its intensity and lush in its visuals (Anderson shot with old-school film format VistaVision), it’s a sometimes ragged, unwieldy experience.

Aftersun may be small in scale, but it leaves a distinct and lasting impression. No question, it’s the best British movie this year.

It’s not all wide-eyed insight and romantic misery though. Past Lives is also very, very funny.

Uncut Gems is an anxiety-inducing heart-attack of a movie that grabs its audience by the throat and shakes until there’s no breath left.

Lydia Tár isn’t a real person, but this riveting film about the corrupting effects of power and privilege will make you think she is. That’s partly because writer-director Todd Field has created a terrifyingly believable character and world that she presides over.

Hamaguchi’s literary and densely layered drama moves slowly through its runtime, but stick with it and Drive My Car rewards patience like almost nothing else.

Opus is yet another priceless gift from a once-in-a-lifetime talent – and a reminder of what we’ve lost. Goodbye maestro – and thank you.

While the narrative never quite makes peace in the way you would expect and does meander slightly off course, it seems Ross had no intention of a textbook crescendo.

A three hour and thirty minute biopic about art, history, money, sex, trauma and concrete, it’s heavyweight in every sense: a monument to its own greatness that stands a good distance from anything else you’re likely to see at the cinema this year.

It might be brutally upsetting at times, but Haigh’s film disarms you with its tenderness – leaving you with something much more profound to say about the connections we make and break along the way.

The film takes a minute to let the viewer in, to get on Julie’s level, but it’s often rewarding once her heart really does open up.

Not just the definitive account of the man behind the atom bomb, Oppenheimer is a monumental achievement in grown-up filmmaking. For years, Nolan has been perfecting the art of the serious blockbuster – crafting smart, finely-tuned multiplex epics that demand attention; that can’t be watched anywhere other than in a cinema, uninterrupted, without distractions. But this, somehow, feels bigger.

It’s a heartbreaking story and all the more brutal for its surface-level simplicity.

It is a film about living fully and without fear, a cynicism-free zone where, for all their fast-talking, people love each other so much it makes your heart feel like it’s about to burst. Talk about a smash.

Like many of Leigh’s best films, it prioritises authenticity and recognisable glimpses of emotion over a splashy narrative arc. That may make it frustrating for some viewers, but there’s no doubt that Leigh and his cast have created a sad, captivating, fascinating slice of everyday life.

The king of kitschy, campy cinema, understated is not always a word you’d readily associate with Pedro Almodóvar, but in his compassionate hands, motherhood becomes a vehicle for something much more weighty.

While its oddball nature won’t be to all tastes, the championing of female guile over insufferable male idiocy will surely leave many with a big smile on their faces.

Bruce Robinson’s tale of two struggling thesps who go on holiday by mistake is one of the greatest films ever made.

The Banshees of Inisherin is that rare thing: a film that will have you chuckling one minute, gasping the next. A story about what matters more – your legacy or your life – McDonagh has created a work of feckin’ brilliance.

EPiC: Elvis Presley In Concert is a kaleidoscopic mix of documentary and concert movie, replete with a behind-the-scenes peek at the rehearsal process, much of it narrated by Elvis himself. Forget talking heads: Luhrmann has described his tribute as a “tone poem”.

Schoenbrun’s film never feels derivative; instead, there’s something fresh and exciting about it, despite the almost deliberate slow-burn feel to its pacing.

A road movie that really makes you think about the stops it makes, there is real pain inside this film; Eisenberg and his cast do well to ensure you’ll feel every moment of it.

For those who were there, the film provides a portal back to a golden age. For everyone else, it’s a reminder of those special teen years – when a plastic cup filled with warm lager and a sunny afternoon in a park makes for the biggest adventure of your life.

It’s a marriage drama, corporate comedy, domestic farce and international surveillance thriller in a tight 90-minute package.

As ever with Anderson, the design is meticulous. Some can find this style cloying, but it suits this glorified short perfectly, never outstaying its welcome.

The fog shrouds the storyline here, but makes it all the more intriguing and addictive.

The great storyteller has been careful in interviews to remind us The Fabelmans is only semi-autobiographical, but everything cuts so deep that you’re left wondering if Spielberg left any of the truth out at all.

Sinners really comes to life via the musical numbers.

Sweeney is excellent as the whistleblower who slowly but surely realises the game is up and creeps from poised confidence to frightened, tearful regret. Hamilton and Davis are also very believable as agents in complete control.

There’s no denying this is a powerful portrait of grief driven by a shattering performance from Buckley.

Yes, we get footage of the alien glam god, Ziggy Stardust, strutting across stage and scrambling teen minds with his otherworldly rock and roll. But off-duty, Morgen portrays a quieter icon – deeply thoughtful, often isolated and with a quirky sense of humour.

It’s a staggering feat. In the space of one seamless performance, Swift is at turns a playfully eccentric artist, a country star and a genuine pop icon. Yet for all the spectacle, it might be those acoustic songs that linger longest in the memory.

Linklater is a master of pacing and he times this story to perfection; you’ll be aching with laughter by the end.

Vortex might act as a balm to some viewers who see themselves in this quietly tragic family portrait. But, if you’ve ever had even the smallest existential fear of growing older and dying, or watching this happen to people you love, tread carefully around this one.

Unlike scmaltzy American romcoms, Allen-Miller never oversells the romance as something bigger than two Londoners out enjoying a crazy day together. Instead, she takes an everyday love story about normal people and injects some big-screen fun into it.

Its rich tone of regret, guilt and unspoken malice comes across in careful direction from Tim Mielants, Frank van den Eeden’s shadowy cinematography and subtle, measured performances across the board.

Playful, sexy and compelling, this is one of the best films of the year, with sensational performances from its three leads.

It’s all properly violent and uncivilised.

At the core of This Much I Know To Be True are sumptuously-shot performances of choice tracks from the Bad Seeds’ ethereal ‘Ghosteen’ and Cave & Ellis’ lockdown revelation record ‘Carnage’, all filmed in breathtaking arthouse style in an abandoned factory in Bristol.

In the end, there’s no doubt you’re looking at someone who, as academic Jason King puts it, “represented a complete upheaval of the existing social system” – and that we’re still enjoying the fruits of that bravery.

Dead Reckoning’s spectacular finale does well to bring things back on brand – seriously, the closing action tableau is as impressive as any you’ll see – but by then most will have stopped caring because their heads hurt.

Condemned in Australia by two of the victim’s families, there’s an argument to be made for Nitram not being watched at all. But by refusing to paint Nitram as an out-and-out monster, the film’s masterstroke is its compassion. It exposes politicians as the real criminals in an unspeakable tragedy that we still haven’t learned from today.

With a uniformly impressive cast, spectacular scenes of carnage and the unshakeable feeling that anything could happen, this zombie franchise is as thrilling as it’s ever been. It’s well worth taking a trip to The Bone Temple.

Heart-wrenching, humane and humble, this is something very, very special indeed.

Writer-director Rian Johnson’s script isn’t quite the perfect box of tricks. It’s fairly tenuous that Blanc would turn up for this puzzler – apparently at the behest of Mila Kunis’ local cop. But it’s hard to punch down on a movie with such a riotously entertaining cast.

Sprinkled throughout are marketing messages (“Barbie means you can be anything”) that sound like they come straight from a press release. Gerwig is clever enough to deliver these with self-awareness and some sarcastic jokes (Mirren thanking Barbie for ending misogyny is a highlight), meaning the balance between reality and commercial is never lost. For a movie that ostensibly exists to promote a doll, this is laudable.

This isn’t a perfect film, but it is a funny, fascinating one with terrific performances from Kidman – surely the bravest A-lister around – and Dickinson as an inscrutable wildcard. You’ll submit to Babygirl’s machinations willingly and thrillingly.

Looking and feeling every inch like a film made without compromise, Pinocchio was worth the wait. Del Toro has been talking about making the film for most of his career now, and the pay-off shows in every brushstroke and thumbprint.

Epic in scope and astonishing in its world-building, Dune: Part Two combines jaw-dropping visuals with imaginative action and morally complex plotting to thrilling effect.

It’s a beautifully constructed and emotionally engaging tale that’s constantly surprising.

With polished visuals and an experienced cast, director Hur Jin-ho concocts a morally complex work that will both challenge and reward viewers.

Hope, then, is the film’s lasting message. Hope that it’ll spark much-needed conversations. But also hope that they won’t be so needed in the future.

Brilliant and unmissable.

What results is a film that both works as a finely-tuned thriller and a meditation on the Church’s place in today’s society.

Spaeny is superb as Priscilla, making you feel every painful aspect of her emotional journey, from infatuation and initial confusion through to heartbreak and finally self-discovery. Similarly, Elordi makes a terrific Elvis.

Kids are scary. If you didn’t think so before, you definitely will after watching The Innocents – one of the year’s most quietly unsettling horror films.

In short, this is a terrific documentary from start to finish, beautifully structured and by turns bracingly political, informative and inspiring.

As honest about his ups as he is his downs, it’s a rare thing to see a movie star being so earnest and grounded on camera. Through the film, Guggenheim helps Fox paint an endearing self-portrait of one of Hollywood’s last few nice guys.

Different by name and different by nature, A Different Man is one of the most original films of the year. Not since the days of Charlie Kaufman, with his brilliant scripts for meta-movies Being John Malkovich, Adaptation and Synecdoche, New York, has there been anything this bonkers.

At one point, he insists he’s not a workaholic but a “playaholic”, which might be the ultimate Macca-ism. In fact, that quip sums up his depiction in Man On The Run: goofy and a little corny, but always endearingly himself.

Top Gun: Maverick does exactly what its intended audience wants it to do – pile on the airborne thrills and steely military heroics without knotting things up with too much moralising or complex character development.

It’s honest and unflinching, tough but not witless and, for the most part, an immersive, overwhelming sensory experience. It should be compulsory viewing for warmongers of all ages and young conscripts.

Genuinely moving from the very beginning, expect to leave After Yang in a flood of tears. Expect, also, to spend the rest of the night questioning all the things that no one really likes thinking about. And, of course, to want to keep rewatching that dance scene on repeat.

Stahelski may traffic in excess, but at least he understands it: how choreography, performance and style can make over-the-top spectacle cohere into pleasurably overwhelming action fizz, rather than congealing into a sweaty special effects overload.

The end result is an achingly gorgeous film that allows his monster-loving sensibilities and signature style to come to the fore.

It’s horrifying in the moment and gnawingly haunting when you process it fully: a sickening satire of society’s obsession with youth and beauty.

This take on Nosferatu may be essential viewing for fans of gothic horror but must be recommended with caution for everyone else.

At times, [Peele] seems to imply that comedy and horror are both ways of processing the perverse mysteries of the world—and looking at things we shouldn’t be looking at. This also makes Nope a film that rewards repeat watching.

Perkins ensures everything services a story that comes armed with at least one almighty twist. Measured in pacing and tone, his film also feels extremely moody thanks to the overcast skies captured by cinematographer Andrés Arochi.

Dodgy depictions of real-life celebs (such as Liam Gallagher) clash with the film’s fantastical tone, which itself can’t support Gracey’s attempt to address serious topics.

Like A Star Is Born, Maestro peters out after an astonishing first act that frontloads all of Cooper’s directing tricks.

If it sounds like Boyle and Garland have been smoking some super-strength Cali weed in the writers’ room, you’ve heard nothing yet.

Just like their insane live shows and debut album ‘Fine Art’, it’s one hell of a laugh. However it’s also full of heart; telling a real working class story as a call for unity without punching down or patronising.

Hardcore horror fans should expect less of a full-on festival of bloody carnage and more a new-school chiller in line with the first two films by Ari Aster (Hereditary, Midsommar) or Jordan Peele (Get Out, Us). Regardless: for a top-ranking summer fright from Down Under, don’t miss Talk To Me.

A few of the jump scares are ruthlessly effective and, with its cartoonishly gothic tone, Hokum does what it says on the tin.

A fresh spin on a difficult topic, it’s a high-wire walk that balances sensitivity and sensationalism. You won’t find a more compelling film this winter.

Blending fact and fiction in intriguing and unexpected ways, the film is consistently entertaining and can be enjoyed whether you’re a longtime fan of the band or a total newcomer.

Gary Oldman made his directorial debut with this startling portrait of life in a deprived part of south-east London.

Swapping out historical accuracy for crowd-pleasing scenes of blood-curdling female empowerment, The Woman King is somewhat conventional as it plots its emotional beats, but it’s power comes from its rousing performances, especially Davis, who can knock a man dead with her stare, let alone her machete.

Anderson and co-writer Roman Coppola have great fun with the idea, channeling 1950s B-movie vibes. Like all of Anderson’s work, it’s very affectionate, even if every camera move appears to have been calculated with the precision of a mathematical equation.

Nouvelle Vague is made with the precision of a super-fan.

Less a horror than an occasionally bloodthirsty character portrait, West dances us through the mind of a serial killer with a visual flair that soars on the big screen.

It’s definitely the sexiest film of 2022 so far, but also the one with the most heart.

It’s easy to question the motives of pop stars who get behind a cause, but the end-product here is a joyful night for people who’ve experienced unimaginable hardship. Cynicism can (and should) be put aside for now.

The Naked Gun isn’t big or clever and that’s just fine – silliness has been missing from comedy cinema for far too long now. It might not smell quite as ripe as the original trilogy but it’s never not wonderful to hear Frank Drebin let ‘er rip on the big screen.

A career of such breadth and note deserves deep exploration, certainly, but so much of the greatness of Morricone’s music speaks for itself that exposing the workings rarely enhances the piece.

Apart from the usual stylistic clichés, this isn’t your typical Anderson movie. Structurally, it’s unconventional.

It all adds up to a film that’s brave, fascinating, grim and irreverent: in other words, vintage Verhoeven.

It’s best to think of Belfast as a great, crowd-pleasing coming-of-ager set in the city, rather than a serious, nuanced depiction of the conflict. Branagh’s tale leans heavily on the autobiographical and it’s about feelings rather than facts.

Civil War is something of a staggering achievement of spectacle and sound, with vast swathes of the US convincingly up in smoke. Not once do we get the foul whiff of CGI; not once are we taken out of the engrossing reality of the protagonists.

The Bob’s Burgers Movie is substantial enough to justify its 102-minute runtime and manages to supersize the show’s appealing recipe without diluting its flavour. It’s a meaty treat that fans and newcomers alike can devour with relish.

Pink Floyd At Pompeii: MCMLXXII captures a moment that’s as bygone as the good citizens of Pompeii themselves.

For better or for worse, Raya And The Last Dragon is not your traditional Disney princess story. It ambitiously tries to subvert those tropes by going against the grain with a dark narrative about human mortality and selfishness. But the film forgets storytelling fundamentals, instead jumping the gun with a mishmash of influences that leads to an uneven plot and unsatisfying finale.

There’s a kindness and companionship – and freedom – to Jackass Forever that makes for 90 minutes of pure joy.

Throughout, Guadagnino audaciously but successfully balances some gut-wrenchingly grim and gory scenes with moments of genuine tenderness.

Denis Villeneuve’s new reboot thankfully ditches the silly, but it does take itself extremely seriously.

Superbly marshalled by Gray, the ensemble cast is excellent – though if you had to pick a stand-out, it’d be Hopkins, as the kindly-but-principled grandfather. He casts a huge shadow over the film, a moral compass for all to follow.

The core Eno that emerges is one dedicated to the deconstruction of music and its making at a fundamental level, then recreating it in amorphous terms: feeling, landscape, peripheral perception, belonging.