Karlovy Vary International Film Festival — A–Z of films

There's a searing honesty and immediacy about the footage.

Touzani has no time for throwing a pity party for these women, she shows instead that they deserve our admiration rather than our sympathy.

It’s all watchable enough if lacking real dramatic tension.

Scott wrings out every last drop of suspense from the film.

One doesn't need to be religious to find something ineffable not just in the music itself but in the way it is expressed.

Despite knowing, thanks to the consumption of a dozen or so books, how things would play out...I still found myself tensing up when we see the Eagle lunar lander begin its descent

The expression in Daria Kashcheeva's puppets is remarkable.

Jarmusch usually manages to invest his films with a quirky sense of humour, but here the lines fall decidedly flat.

Dogs Don’t Wear Pants ultimately relishes its uncomfortable themes buoyed by a little humour and hopes of a life happy ever after for our two damaged human beings

It's hard to be tough on a film as warm-hearted as this one is in spirit - like Callahan, it's trying hard even when it fails.

Grozeva and Valchanov allow a gentle absurdity to flow through the film.

In terms of basic plotting, there might not seem to be much here, but emotions crackle beneath the surface and the mood burns deep.

Stallone's energy and ambition knew no bounds in the Eighties.

Simple things like a radio suddenly switching on, a wine glass falling to the floor, or an insistent knocking at the door are an object lesson to contemporary horror’s blood-soaked tyros.

The bleak chill of the Quebecois winter seeps into the very bones of Denis Côté's latest film, giving a sense of aching longing to the action.

Repeated viewings also reveal the beautiful circularity of the film that begins at more than one end.

Moreno's travels give us a sense of the enormity of what lies beneath, unhurried but curious in his progress, even homing in to look at the microscopic monsters we might not realise also make these caverns their home.

Introduzione all’Oscuro aims more for emotional beats and resonances than factual musings.

You might not think you're in the mood for buying, but his extravagant sales pitch is likely to win you over by the end.

The film is both intense and frustrating.

We don't see the much of the immediate aftermath of death here, but instead are treated to the way grief can linger, catching anger and guilt in its wake

Only really comes alive in the last ten minutes.

The film has an organic quality, seeming like another product of the land.

Memo to filmmakers: If you’re looking for a failsafe plan to make a delightful film, try showcasing the breadth of Emma Thompson’s talents.

Sarah Kernochan's screenplay is precise and doesn't shy away from the real-life absurdities we all encounter.

Set against a perpetually snowy background the film paces itself perfectly with a gathering sense of an impending implosion.

The Lodge hinges on a powerhouse performance from Keough, who inhabits the troubled Grace so completely that we can stay with her even as her ability to distinguish what's real and what isn't breaks down.

The sense of period and the deprivations of the time are authentically evoked without ramping up the emotional charge.

Visually it is astonishing, not only because of its effects and techno trickery, but cinematically the Wachowskis are so audacious.

There are some good stories - various myths around the filming of Alien are punctured, but one of the film's central theses is a mythological one.

This is astonishing stuff.

Landes' film has the queasy, uneasy feel of a nightmare - and that's before magic mushrooms are involved.

Ogrodnik - so impressive in 2017's Silent Night - is magnetic.

Engages with an energetic and angry vitality as well as authenticity.

Bong Joon Ho's tale of two families explores the wealth gap in South Korean society with wit, insight and a pitch black sense of humour.

Douglas imposes his presence and manages to walk the tightrope between edgy and intense without chewing up the scenery.

Tim Mielants's quirky comedy is shot through with melancholy and holds a deep affection for its earnest hero even when he seems to be the butt of everybody's jokes.

The honesty and decency of his character never forces the narrative into areas of embarrassment.

The writer/director casts his net wide, taking inspiration from auteurs like John Boorman and Sam Peckinpah through to freeze-frame moments that could slot straight into TV detective dramas of the time.

Tightly structured and well-shot

The director has an eye for a strong image that bodes well for future projects, but their use here is often smack on the nose.

This isn't an easy watch but it's a compelling one.

Like many of Ferrara’s films, Tommaso starts out with seemingly insignificant details, but stacks them until they mount ominously.

Director Martha Stephens uses a palette full of soft browns and pastels designed to evoke nostalgia but shows us plenty of cruelty just under the surface.

The situation is ripe with ridiculousness, but Aljem shows a lot of restraint.

A charming and playful consideration of her career.

This creative and visually arresting adaptation of Brian Selznick’s critically acclaimed novel marks a filmmaker at the top of his game.

While content is important, it is context that is king in a documentary, and this film could do with a lot more of it to orient viewers, especially those who don't have a full working knowledge of the American South.

A White, White Day mingles some very dark dramatic moments with the comedy of the absurd.

Is it possible to make an interesting film where only one man remembers The Beatles? Probably. Is this it? Probably not.