The result feels like a Gabriel García Márquez novel with a rocket under its bum.

Like many films at the festival this year The Dreamed Adventure is too long, but a running time of almost three hours does let you get under the skin of Veska, played with grit, soul and wit by Yana Radeva.

Welcome back the British rom-com! It’s been a while since we’ve had a profoundly lovely film that swaggers into life from the opening disco beats (New Order’s Blue Monday) and subsequently demonstrates an unwavering surety of purpose.

It’s Jones who provides the tale with emotional ballast. His softly espoused beliefs in the values of home, family and living in glorious anonymity.

The film is cooler emotionally than Almodóvar’s early work but full of wit and self-awareness.

Soderbergh, as proved with his Ocean’s franchise, is a veritable heist-meister. Yet this is possibly the genre’s loosest, least rigorous entry, a film that instead opts for existential inquiry and complex character portraiture.

It is difficult to overstate Streep’s importance, and how deeply she inhabits a role that, for any other actress, would certainly be cartoonish — the outfits, the glasses and the whispered catchphrase “that’s all”.

At just 80 minutes it’s small but perfectly formed and packed with more ideas and infused with more heartbreak than most overlong arthouse epics.

It’s an exquisite portrait of a musical genius at work. And Yoko Ono.

Concert films are often an underwhelming proxy for a fine night out, but Cameron’s technical virtuosity and storytelling verve bring the whole shebang to life — as does shooting in 3D. I’m no Eilish superfan, but I enjoyed it a lot more than the last Avatar flick.

Insolia and Riondino, meanwhile, are quite perfectly cast. Their characters have soul chemistry and their scenes together are the film’s best.

Sam and Mother Mary’s chemistry is the film’s big sell, and the impeccable Coel and imperious Hathaway prove the ultimate dynamic duo.

MacKay and Turner acquit themselves handsomely with many silent stares, tortured looks and grimaces. Like all Jenkin’s films, it looks extraordinary and the deliberately “tinny” post-sync sound only adds to the sense that you are watching something ancient, meaningful and quite magical.

In a project that took a full year to edit, with unfettered access to the Orwell estate’s entire archive, Peck proves impossibly adept at layering in seemingly disparate clips, quotes and footage without ever once losing sight of his central message. Much like Orwell, in fact, it’s the clarity of his polemic that impresses most.

A nuptial apocalypse has rarely been explored with such dark intelligence and mordant wit as in this often piercing and cringe-out-loud dramedy starring Robert Pattinson and Zendaya.

It is a fascinating, often moving exploration of Japanese family life in the traumatised, bomb-blasted aftermath of the Second World War.

Boon’s already considerable charisma is somehow magnified by Tommy’s incarceration and Graham and Riseborough prove yet again that they can find humanity in even the most disturbing characters. Please let this not be their last joint project.

Halfway through Louis Theroux: Inside the Manosphere (Netflix) I thought, yes, these toxic young men are awful but are we actually learning anything new?

Ryan Gosling on charisma overdrive and buckets of deadpan irreverence are enough to power this otherwise familiar sci-fi story to the highest possible entertainment orbit.

No, it’s not subtle. The rock soundtrack thumps along with propulsive vigour (cue original tracks from Grian Chatten of Fontaines DC and Amy Taylor from Amyl and the Sniffers), the screen pulses with stylish slow-mo from the director Tom Harper (Heart of Stone), while the top-tier acting duo of Murphy and Keoghan bring some unexpected poignancy to an otherwise familiar Oedipal clash.

The sidewinding rhythm of the film will probably throw some, but that’s all the more reason to see it in the theatre: a lot goes on beneath the surface, the lack of signposting has a cumulative power, and the ending is a beauty, mixing heartbreak, hope and the boy, Fernando, who has been patiently waiting for his father all along.

There’s a hint of repetition in the mid-section and a schmaltzy third act courtroom scene. But all flaws are overcome by Aramayo’s technically precise and heart-rending turn. It’s astonishing.

This is a celebration of the King doing what he did best, and loving every second.

It’s a testament to Nayyef’s ingenuous performance and the mesmerising sense of place that the film is always compelling and sometimes bleakly funny, although there are no happy endings.

Ultimately this protagonist looks to nature and to Mabel in an admirable attempt to reconcile the ubiquity of death, the brevity of life and the urgent, though possibly pointless, search for meaning.

The film is a hoot, possibly the most gloriously macho cop movie since the writer-director Joe Carnahan’s previous cop movie Copshop (2021), or his breakout cop movie Narc (2002), or the cop movie he wrote for Edward Norton, Pride and Glory (2008).

Gosh, I hope that Ralph Fiennes’s back is OK. Because the 63-year-old certainly did a lot of heavy lifting in this latest instalment of the long-running zombie franchise. I mean that metaphorically, of course, because in this movie it’s up to Fiennes to provide the emotional, intellectual and comedic fireworks.

Reinsve seems to give nothing away and yet there’s not a scene she’s in where we’re not clued into Nora’s emotions. The acting is almost invisible. Nora, it becomes clear, is the mirror image of her father: giving free rein to her emotions only under the cover of the art.