Backdraft clichés notwithstanding, this is a stirring fact-based tribute to public servants putting it on the line.

Hail, Caesar! is a love letter inked in arsenic, at once celebrating the artistry of Hollywood and cringing at the crass commercialism and rampant phoniness of it all.

Political without point-scoring, Jacir remains true to a child’s-eye view, with Asfa’s delightful, exuberant performance always upfront.

The film treads a fine line between saccharine and crowd-pleasing, though there’s no doubt a few moments will elicit tears.

Deliberately paced and expertly acted by a weathered ensemble including Hugo Weaving, Mystery Road also boasts some of cinema’s most gorgeous magic-hour photography even if, elsewhere, light is in perilously short supply.

Mostly, this is fantastic fun: a two-hours-plus blockbuster that doesn’t bog down in exposition or sag in the middle. There are reversals and rug-pulls galore, most of them executed with whiplash skill.

Famuyiwa’s teen pic mixes a cocktail of crowd-pleasing vim and political punch, lent charm and conviction by Moore – a star in the making.

While sympathetic to their plight, the directors prove alert to the story’s wider impact, speaking to proud parents and outraged opponents alike.

This is a clever, all-ages charmer.

The result is so far-fetchedly entertaining it feels like a fantasist’s fevered imaginings. Which, in a way, it is.

Stunning fights and creepy CG come wrapped inside a blade-sharp story, as the swordsman vows to hunt the killers of a young girl’s parents. Truly epic.

Director Amat Escalante channels Cronenbergian carnality and Andrzej Żuławski’s Possession, while Simone Bucio and Ruth Ramos deliver stunning performances. Beware: this is explicit stuff.

El Camino, then, offers a final – if not wholly necessary – farewell to some of the greatest characters ever put to television screens. And Jesse, poor Jesse, finally gets the closing chapter he deserves.

Sharp social commentary and slick genre trappings make for thought-provoking entertainment, even if it never entirely hooks you.

At the heart of both movie and boardgame is that deep sense of community and camaraderie, which bonds the quartet of misfits nicely.

There's something rotten in Denmark, as Mean Streets meets GoodFellas in Copenhagen, and while it could never rival either of the above, this striking, powerfully gritty tale about a week in the life of a drug dealer is still well worth seeing. A promising debut.

This is a chilling portrayal of a deeply unsympathetic protagonist.

It's probably the best three-star movie this month. An effortless, emotional, funny little indie that few people will see. Be one of them.

Midsommar features a standout performance from Florence Pugh and an expertly assembled atmosphere of dread, even if its lacks the propulsion and all-consuming terror of Hereditary.

Cumberbatch fits Doctor Strange like a pair of snap-tight surgical gloves, in yet another MCU triumph. Beautifully designed, brilliantly executed.

Task Force X has the X factor in James Gunn’s lively, funny, and very bloody improvement on a DC disappointment.

Tiny Furniture announces Dunham as a talent to watch.

A gentle tale, tinged with melancholy told with all the loving attention to detail you expect from Studio Ghibli.

Moore gives a controlled portrait of emotional implosion, bringing quietly heartbreaking nuances to a calm, considered treatment of a life-shattering situation.

Dastmalchian shines as Delroy, mugging to the studio audience as things spiral out of control, all the while rubbing his hands that he has managed to create the TV event of the decade. And along the way, the filmmakers pull off some rather nasty surprises.

The storytelling can feel a bit plodding, but Jim Broadbent’s exuberant Ernest and Brenda Blethyn’s timid, upwardly mobile Ethel give the marriage a touching intimacy and warmth.

Marx, Tristan Tzara, André Breton, Werner Herzog; Constructivism, Dadaism, Futurism… on it goes. Impressive, sure, but ultimately stultifying.

In his feature debut, Swiss director Baran bo Odar counterpoints the tranquillity of the landscape with the mental torment of everyone involved, and what could have been just another serial-killer whodunit becomes a complex study of grief, obsession and the persistence of guilt.