Leeds International Film Festival — A–Z of films

Protagonist Adam (Andrew Scott) lives in a neatly furnished home, no longer feels the need to hide his sexuality, and tells himself he’s fine, but the music says otherwise.

Hüller has always been an unfussy actress, who allows a character's flaws to shine out in interesting ways.

Most of the film has been assembled out of Zoom chats, but it’s so well done, and the story is so compelling, that it might take you a while to notice.

Even if you might get a hint of the film’s final destination before it arrives, the way Bustillo achieves his aims will leave you with a warm glow.

Hamaguchi isn’t scared to completely change the rhythm of his film on a dime, something that is likely to frustrate as many people as it delights.

An amuse-bouche of a film, Aki Kaurismäki’s latest comedy romance may leave you wanting more but it’s also a fully rounded, good looking experience packed with all the flavours we’ve come to expect from the master of deadpan down the years.

In only his sophomore effort as James Bond, Sean Connery shows he has already mastered the role.

A fresh spin on territory that has been frequently explored.

While Louis-Seize’s treatment of the night is atmospheric, the emphasis here is firmly on comedy rather on gore.

What’s remarkable is that director Mike Cheslik manages to sustain this for so long.

A sort of soft-faced tyrany abounds.

By the end you might not only ask yourself if someone is losing their marbles but whose marbles, in fact, are the ones that are being lost.

This cinematic exploration, a manifestation of Christian bigotry, speculates with cinematic icons and religious imagery, laying bare the power-hungry clergy.

Unashamedly quirky but burtsting with the love of film, this is the sort of one-off doc that’s as much about the engaging playfulness of its construction as it is the content.

Despite having all the elements of a classic Hitchcock mystery, this is really one for fans of the master's early, funny films.

As engaging as it is ridiculous.

Jacob Oostra's work in sound design is part of an overwhelming naturalism, an intimacy of sensation and a sense of intimacy.

Confident enough in its characters to tell its story without sensationalism or stylistic overcompensation.

It's a nonsense, but when the storytelling is this good it doesn't matter.

Capturing the experience of living in a world where one’s gender doesn’t fit better than almost any other film to date, Preciado’s work is all about claiming space and present day narrative.

La Palisiada emerges as a cinematic riddle, a playground where Sotnychenko revels in teasing the audience.

Lanthimos skillfully transforms this lustful carnival into a coming-of-age drama, emphasising the protagonist's mastery of sexuality as a connotation of her mental evolution.

Mirza may sometimes over-indulge in sentiment, but there’s a warmth to the film that makes it easy to like, and she handles its more chaotic scenes with flair.

Raging Grace is a Gothic thriller with the potential to appeal to a wide audience. It’s also a fierce critique of the racism embedded in a culture which still treats it as normal for some perfectly capable people to be waited on by others, and to treat them as less than human in the process.

It is an assured and relentless exposé.

It’s nice to see a film which problematises familiar, overly comfortable assumptions about the sociological response to new technologies, and which doesn’t insist that babies need to be thrown out with bathwater.

Yamaguchi and his regular writer, Makoto Ueda, have such a deep understanding of their characters that it’s the emotional timeline, rather than the physical one, that becomes the subject of real concern.

A true original.

While attempting to describe the crux of Samsara is, essentially, as impossible as catching lightning in a jar, join me on a journey of imagination and we’ll give it a go.

The mix of action and satire also turns it into an absorbing hell of a ride.

Sultana's Dream's dense philosophical backbone proves quite meandering in places but even if not every abstract idea hits the target, the animation is always on point.

While the end result is important, Hùng’s film is all about savouring the moment, something that becomes more urgent as it progresses - although talk of speed has little place in a film that unfolds with the pace and beauty of a flower.

Details leap out from the photographs, not just the faces of those she captured, but the twist of cigarette smoke, metal ashtrays recalling the tang of wet ash, plasters on scrubbed knees.

At the heart of it is the complex relationship between mother and son.

Viewers are likely to go away appreciating Aubrey’s frustrations and perhaps, if they share them, feeling validated, but without the tools to do anything about them.

There are no shortcuts in this film, no conventions and nothing careless.