Berlin International Film Festival — A–Z of films

Conversations about internal and external experiences of gender provide structure, but there's much more to Amber as a person.

It takes real craft to hold something like this together for 75 minutes - not to mention tremendous effort on Campbell's part.

Green shows the trickle-down effect of toxic masculinity, as Jane's male colleagues - scarcely higher in the pecking order than her - nevertheless chip away at her.

The D'Innocenzos let the mood do the heavy lifting, stewing us along with the families.

While the roaming handheld cameras bring to mind observational documentaries, the aesthetic also evokes Robert Altman through its observational style and rich tapestry of characters.

The real-life clumsiness, the awkward pauses in human interactions are captured attentively; these are the most precise moments of the film.

A work of brilliance, painful as a punctured lung, fierce, uncompromised, operatic, sexual, startlingly beautiful and yet poisoned with evil.

The complex interactions between the girls are beautifully captured.

The adventure of teenage life is represented in all its glory.

Vats has a background in documentary and it shows in his deep realisation of the world Anjani and his family inhabit.

Morina generates a similar atmosphere to that of the films of Ruben Östlund, prying at the cracks in the male psyche.

Golubovic wants us to feel the weight of all this, and we certainly do, as cinematographer Aleksandar Ilic not only captures the countryside of Serbia but also a sense of dilapidation.

The simplest of pleasures bring the greatest moments of joy in Reichardt’s latest film.

Being hit squarely in the face with the sheer volume of these, often barely watched, entreaties is doubtless part of the point.

The language captured here speaks volumes. The animals’ faces, their reactions and movements, remind doubters of their sentient nature in every shot.

Hope is structured around seemingly small jolts that suddenly illuminate the big picture.

It's a far from perfect film, but it's a lot better than the critical consensus suggests, and at the heart of it is a fascinating character study.

Though the destination of The Last Station holds some interest, much of the journey is far too dull.

Nearly 30 years later and John Mackenzie’s classic is still the yard-stick for any new entry into the genre.

There is more substance of thought in one minute of this film than most movies are able to produce in an hour.

For a short time, this cinematic jewel lets us travel back to when the migration of birds was a mystery to man.

With a moody jazz score full of languorous clarinets, this is a long cool drink before the unseen war.

Rap is a rapid-fire art form, washing you in a torrent of thoughts, the beat carrying you through, and Tariq's film has a similar approach, but there are so many ideas being fired out that it's no wonder it sometimes struggles to retain its rhythm.

Chuat and Reymond’s début feature is grounded in a deep reality.

While the film may be light on political detail, Aïnouz captures the sense of an old struggle being made young again.

It is a portrait of loneliness and alienation, yes, but also of resourcefulness, resilience and unity.

Following her subjects through the tangled streets, in an out of small concrete houses or under the archways and up the stairwells where they take shelter, Navas observes them almost as if she were filming a documentary, perhaps without permission.

Garrone establishes very early on that Pinocchio's woodness means he doesn't feel pain - during an unfortunate fire incident - so even when our hero is in deep trouble, there's always the sense he is protected.

A few contrived moments, such as the metaphorical stag the Queen spots on her estate, only marginally detract from what is otherwise a fascinating drama on previously uncharted cinematic territory.

Before, it often felt as though Decker was drifting off onto self-indulgent tangents but her latest feels much more under control, with those tangents are a fully fledged part of the portrait.

A film that is entirely built on moments and glimpses.

Rasoulof schools us in the ins and outs of a judicial system in which not only those who are directly sentenced to death can find themselves condemned as a result.

When Petzold shows the broken mending again, the magic of cinema becomes the subject

By pushing us into the day-to-day stress of the organisation, France gives a palpable sense of the desperation many of those fleeing feel.

White Riot is as brisk, to the point and direct as any punk song of the period.

Well realised and engaging, with impressive production design.