Reichardt and Williams reunite to muted effect to create a portrait of an artist that feels a little unfinished.

Spielberg lovingly restages the classic musical – but while the songs still soar, it feels more indulgent than essential.

A visually stunning directorial debut that’s too intimidated by the original source material to be effective.

Anders Danielsen Lie gives a compelling, deep-etched lead turn, and you'll find yourself drawn in as he searches for a reason to continue living.

Like an arthouse Ghost, this is bold, original filmmaking with a pervasive sense of amused detachment.

All politics and posturing, the first two-thirds of the film are stiff and uninvolving, and although the climatic 45-minute free-for-all is genuinely spectacular, it’s clear where the director’s heart lies.

Filmmaker Azazel Jacobs follows up the highly mannered (and highly strung) French Exit (2020) with a slow-burn study of sibling rivalry, parental mortality and the ties that bind.

This solid if unspectacular finish to the Apes trilogy features an A-game Andy Serkis and incredible VFX, but its darker excesses threaten to suffocate at times.

Musing on memory and machine-emotion, it echoes Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Her. But despite its fine portraits of loss, it never escapes its stage-play origins.

One of the strangest films you’ll see this (or any) year, it unsettles, bores, elates and amuses in equal measure. Not for everyone, but there’s plenty to chew on.

The results – achieved through small cameras clipped to nets, masts and the crew – will hook some and induce seasickness in others.

Two immensely enjoyable central performances and some of the best race sequences yet filmed fuel an otherwise standard sports movie.

Russell follows "The Fighter" with a softer, soapier family dysfunction drama, lightly comic enough to make for palatable Friday-night viewing. As its nutty lovebirds, Cooper and Lawrence save Playbook from the director's surprisingly mundane impulses.

As noble as his ideals are, watching a series of interminably lengthy conversations inside a car makes for stultifying viewing. And the abrupt ending, which highlights the fictional nature of the whole enterprise, is mystifying.

An impressive study of guilt, responsibility and the bad things that happen to good people.

This (will’o-the-)wisp of a film is a beauty depending on the eye of the beholder; frustratingly slender yet with moments of profundity.

There are some stunning moments, such as the eerily green-screened opener, and an unsettling underwater sequence up there with Dario Argento’s Inferno. But the 145-minute runtime feels increasingly indulgent, and Bonello borrows heavily from Kubrick, Lynch and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Not the promised insider’s peek but Assayas and Binoche are still a potent combo, nailing the fragility of an actress facing the ageing process.

A sombre crimer that resists easy thrills, investing instead in grit, intelligence and complex characterisation.

Keep The Lights On feels lopsided in its focus on Erik, with Paul remaining a strangely remote object of the former's romantic devotion.

The resulting pickle may seem alien to many, but Yaron’s navigation of Shira’s struggles make it tangible.

It suffers an abrupt ending and, compared to the creativity displayed in Coppola’s other biopic, Marie Antoinette, is a more muted affair.

Assured, adult filmmaking from a writer/director who knows her way around the ups and downs of relationships.

The performances keep us engaged.

The film strips away ideas of heroism mercilessly.

While director Ceyda Torun lets the focus meander too much, it’ll leave you, ahem, feline good.

For all its attempts to expand the original’s ensemble and embellish its themes, Dory is cod in batter beside Nemo’s smoked salmon. But still tasty.

The restlessness of the camerawork may drive you to distraction, but director/co-writer Calin Peter Netzer’s film is held steady by Gheorghiu’s staunch performance.