Making fine use of a top-flight Spanish-speaking cast, Asghar Farhadi deftly inserts love, resentment, class, money and family ties into a propulsive narrative replete with doubts, accusations, intimations, red herrings and other welcome ingredients from the suspenseful-drama arsenal.

There’s an observational authenticity that is refreshing in an audiovisual culture whose attempts at self-analysis are too often skewed by melodrama. It’s also heartening to see such delicate stories of ordinary people come to the fore in a country whose filmmakers faces enormous hurdles; technical, financial and bureaucratic.

Meditative in its pacing, painterly in composition, quietly devastating in its low-key drama, the latest film from Xavier Beauvois shares some of the slow-burning potency of his acclaimed study of religious faith, Of Gods And Men.

A film that is a small delight, a perfect cinematic short story.

An indulgent 130-minute running time and a plot that wildly over-stretches sees Racer ultimately bounce off the rails.

Smuggling Hendrix is an amiable affair that gradually grows on the viewer.

If the intimacy of small town existence is cherished here, there’s also an ominous sense of that same life being eroded and undermined.

The film is as much an exploration of often contradictory human attitudes towards migration as it is towards the experiences of the refugees themselves.

Both McGregor, close cropped, and Seydoux, in retro bangs, give tender performances, although there’s not much that’s new in the love story once you push the robotics aside. Tech-heads who rush to Zoe may leave the theater feeling under-charged.

There is not enough in the performances or the script to set it apart from the constant flow of indie crime dramas.

The Seagull, Anton Chekhov’s classic play about failed hopes and tangled attractions, is solid and satisfying in Michael Mayer’s intimate retelling for the screen.

Like McQueen’s designs, it is thrilling, troubling and tinged with tragedy.

The 12-year project – commissioned by the Robert Mapplethorpe Foundation – is evidence that Timoner, who made documentaries before, can craft a nuanced dramatic feature.

A comprehensive remembrance of Radner’s public legacy is underpinned by an engrossing insight into her private struggles, making for an informative and poignant showbusiness story.

There’s real feeling coursing through Jellyfish, even if its insights aren’t particularly trenchant.

This culture clash plays more with delightful nuances than with big surprises, but David Zellner brings plenty of American innocence to the role of a fortune-seeker brought to his knees; as they say in Texas, he’s all hat and no cattle.

It’s ambitious, and she hits some of the right notes, but much of it ends up off-key.

While the character’s resulting journey of self-discovery may follow familiar lines, it is bracing nevertheless.

It achieves stray laughs and some clever moments, but not enough to render it more than a strained curiosity.

Densely factual and sometimes a little unweildy, this is a film in which good intentions outweigh style and execution.

Jessie Buckley is a force of nature in the lead role of this sinewy psychological thriller.

Considine’s strong central performance gives the film an emotional resonance.

The film boasts plenty of comic-book action while also making room for a darker tone and emotional resonance rarely matched in previous installments. In a cinematic world stuffed with big-budget movies, Infinity War is a genuine blockbuster.

Woman Walks Ahead is a story of defying expectations, finding common ground and gaining knowledge.

Ultimately, it works as both a character study and welcome example of an LGBTQ film in which none of the characters are defined by their sexuality or gender, but by their individual choices — both good, and bad.

Vampire Clay is clumsily structured and paced, with the gross-out effects dashed off at the beginning and the laboured explanation effectively defusing the tension just at the point when it should be building into a claypocalypse of gore and violence.

Flitting between demonstrations, recorded addresses and interviews from both sides gives rise to highly relevant observations and intriguing asides — and even when they’re obvious, they’re astute.

Smothering the screen with good intentions, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (adapted from Annie Barrow’s best-selling comfort novel of the same name) is British security-blanket film-making at its finest.