Karlovy Vary International Film Festival — A–Z of films

His rigorous journey conveys a deep sense of beauty.

It’s fitting for a film set in the “City of Dreams” and that is concerned with life’s illusions and how we navigate them as it is about the here and now.

As much as Architecton rues humanity’s depletion of our resources, it also marvels at our ability to harness materials for our own ends.

The film is a brash, vulgar, joyously realistic portrait of a three-way friendship with roots that run deep.

The Beast explores what Henry James diagnosed so devastatingly. The chill of egotism and the feverish dance around the void are so desperately relevant today that it leaves one breathless.

Lin and Sun studiously maintain the enigma around Shuo so that we are left guessing as to whether he’s just a disadvantaged teen trying to make his way in the world or a cuckoo in the nest.

Slippery in terms of genre and form, the writer/director’s satire puts all his characters and, by extension, us under close scrutiny.

Dying is full of glorious contradictions, many of which occur within the same conversation

There’s something inherently endearing about the way that Nikou always managed to conjure timelessness in his worlds. They’re more analogue than futuristic but ultimately hang in a sort of limbo of ‘here but not quite now’.

Whatever structuring the directors are doing is achieved with the lightest of touches, so that we feel as though we’re just along for the ride with these guys.

Panigrahi is pitch perfect in her debut role.

Illusions are everywhere in this film.

The action is pacy but that doesn’t mean Courvoisier skims the surface.

For all the apparent chaos, this is a tightly controlled piece of work which fully delivers on the promise of Stolevski’s earlier films.

Condensed and symbolic in its approach, sometimes to the point where it becomes surreal, Hunting Daze uses a small story to address big subjects.

Loznitsa’s approach is quietly observational, capturing the quotidian goings on as they continue beneath the shadow of war.

Thoughtful and stripped of sensationalism, each story and its wider implications bite deep.

The director shows how it’s not just Julie’s tennis skills that have been groomed by the coach but large aspects of her life.

The entire cast, especially Stone, who has admitted that Lanthimos is a muse, enter into the grand guignol spirit of the proceedings with gusto.

It's got the musicality that proper swearing should.

The quality certainly shines out.

There's no doubt that by presenting several characters as pure id is quite a dangerous gambit for a filmmaker but Glass keeps things interesting by having them driven by different things.

While many other films feel as though they are really staking out a deliberate political stance against the Iranian regime or coming at it from deep within metaphor, My Favourite Cake is casually, but almost constantly, rebellious in small ways.

The Italian filmmaker employs a minimalist approach that embraces the languorous nature of summer.

No Other Land brings humanity and particularity to a topic that is too often discussed in the abstract.

Nyoni expertly controls her narrative so that it glides effortlessly between the reality of the funeral preparations to the more surreal psychological trauma Shula is working through.

German director Wim Wenders allows Paris, Texas to unfurl with such assured calm that each delicate narrative revelation, no matter how trivial or terrible, seems a natural and almost obvious progression.

A tactile and colour-infused film.

The writing is sharp and succinct.

Writer/director Sandhya Suri - who has a documentary background - is keen to show that everyone plays their part in the prejudices and corruption of the legal system.

There is a feeling of being in a constant movement, with cars and buildings whizzing by as Souleymane is rushing through the city, either riding his bike, or running from one type of public transport to the next.

Brutal, bloody and enriched with a specific dark humour.

A fascinating portrait of a woman ahead of her time.

Philippe’s incisive, forthright approach leaves no room for apologism.

Hoogendoorn crafts the tension around space and body which cinematographer Gregg Telussa captures candidly, usually keeping both protagonists within the frame.

While Verseau talks about how crucial the surgery was to her mental health, the complexity of the emotions experienced afterwards is also made clear.

What makes all this compelling is the underlying sense of brooding menace.

Beyond the dark loneliness of grief, is the soft light of a shared mourning.

Starting as a refined drama about a broken Tunisian family, the narrative becomes a complex meditation on attachment and motherhood, all encompassed by a remarkable female lead.