Leeds International Film Festival — A–Z of films

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.

There’s incredible world-building here.

What isn't untrue is that Anora is brilliant.

Amid all the deprivation Arnold, as is her style, uncovers elements that lift the action out of the ordinary and into the realms of fantasy and magical realism.

A hilarious tribute to the best-loved cliches of the genre.

Although most viewers will find themselves flagging before the end, there is a lot to enjoy here.

The camera drifts through it at a leisurely pace, back and forth, up and down, taking in different details one might when wandering around drunk or half asleep. From these, story and meaning gradually coalesce.

Even though we’re essentially talking about a basic shot-reverse shot exchange, framed in creeping wide angles, juxtaposed with close-ups, the feeling is comparable to watching a getaway heist.

Director Edward Berger and his director of photography Stephane Fontaine have made every frame art.

Everything here looks grimy, as if the film itself had been lying around in poor conditions for years, and colours and patterns are artfully mismatched.

Even Kafkaesque ideas are subject to chaos.

The writer/director also zeroes in on the importance of physical contact for Ruth - something concrete in a world that is now full of things that she can’t always grasp.

Laloux has woven a dense tapestry of allegorical resonances that link the theological to the political to the anthropological.

Cat’s viewpoint predominates, and Zilbalodis has an acute understanding of how the world looks from its point of view, of what catches its attention and how its body follows instinctively.

Illusions are everywhere in this film.

The absurdity is one of its delights.

It’s funny to begin with, watching Pansy rant with no filter, sharing her negative thoughts on everything from baby clothes with pockets to sofa salespeople, but gradually we realise just how close to the edge she is.

This kind of layered story construction is a difficult thing to pull off and it makes the film shine.

This is a tactile retelling, inviting us to imagine the sticky feel of Coca-Cola on hot skin in the sun or the heat of a sheepskin coat and the love that goes with it being passed from mum to daughter ahead of a trip abroad.

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.

A creepy one-off.

Elliot time and again marries darkness and light, sweetness with sour to create a satisfying emotional umami.

Nickel Boys is a tremendously daring film.

Nightbitch is of an ilk that is off-kilter. It is unreliable and unstable. It is visceral and dark. It is taxidermy and what I think are freezer potato pancakes.

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.

Eisenberg takes us through the entire journey in a brisk 90 minutes, but the film never feels rushed.

The writing is sharp and succinct.

Two things elevate it. One is Yasuda’s commitment to looking in depth at the culture of the Edo period, rather than just cribbing from past jidaigeki and trying to distract us with swordplay. The other is seasoned jidaigeki actor Yamaguchi’s wonderfully sensitive and sincere performance.

Grittily compelling

The spectacular visual effects are less a product of slick new technology than of pure imagination, and they really are unforgettable.

This playfully filmed coming-of-age narrative never loses its empathetic eye.

Every frame feels like the product of conscious decision-making, with nothing merely carrying us from one point to another.

Successful films like this are few and far between, whilst the genre is littered with the bones of those that didn’t make it.

The imagery is almost dream-like, feverish and intense without straying away from reality.

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

Although its characters are middle aged, their childish games in the first half signal a kind of coming of age; and yet unlike most films on that theme, which end when childhood is left behind, it keeps us there to explore what it means to be an adult.

This is a shocking, visceral work. There are moments of humour, here and there, but it is the gallows laughing.

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