San Sebastian Film Festival — A–Z of films

Shot with a loose but observant style that captures energy and thoughtfulness in all the right places.

The lengths of time the shots last and the camera angles that hide more context than they reveal are what formally is most striking about Beginning. But it is the story that sticks with you.

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

This is emotion in the raw, not just from those faced with the possibility of seeing someone else take on responsibility for their kids, but also from the advocates representing them who are being put through the emotional wringer as well.

This is how the film plays out: loose and jumbled but still somehow telling a story. It's a style that suits its subject perfectly.

Mortensen seems to draw particular focus to the aggression, fear and pejoratives associated with neurological disorders - a side only ever faintly explored in cinema.

Zeller elegantly and scarily fuses dream logic with markers of past trauma.

Shooting from odd angles, watching from above or tilting her camera up from below, Kim conveys both the crowded milieu within which her heroine lives and the sense of dislocation that the rape creates.

Yes, Herself is first and foremost a film about a woman's journey. It is also, in a smaller way, about another journey, from selfishness to community spirit.

The personal is prominent, with Domalewski leaving the viewer to draw their own picture of the broader socio-economic failings of all this.

A film brimming with freshness in its ideas and their execution.

There's a relaxed warmth to the, largely, lowkey events, that encourages us to cosy up to the family.

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

Alberdi keeps the tone light and profound simultaneously.

A beautifully observed portrait of a family in crisis.

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

What worked so well in The Rider, namely that people were playing versions of themselves, falls flat because of the casting of McDormand in the lead.

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.

This new film, like all the others, has some of that old Woody sauce as well that gives it some charm, but it’s a mere shadow of its old self.

With beautifully drawn characters and superb performances all round, Icíar Bollaín's enchanting comedy draws viewers into a world where romance is not dependent on a committed relationship and love takes many different forms.

Dosch is in her element here, bringing depth to every glance, captured by Pascal Granale not just in the thrust of sex but in more impressionistic interludes.

Artfully confected and directed with a light touch, this is a layered yet knowingly insubstantial creation, un amour choux.

With eloquent, understated performances from both leads and a willingness to take its time, Supernova explores not merely the issues they face but the life they share.

The scoring from Alejandro Otaola reinforces the otherworldly elements but the action feels underpowered by comparison.

This is a sensuous plunge into a world that's built on simple pleasures.

The writer/director deploys a deft amount of black humour but there's always a disturbing edge to the mood.

Overall, the story is a familiar one, with a predictably, one could even say, cliched tragic sweep - a well-trodden pioneer trail that while watchable for the fine performances, still feels overly stuck in a rut.

There's such a warmth to the comedy here that the inevitable tragic sweep of the film feels all the more steeped in sadness.