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.