Visions du Réel — A–Z of films

This blending of the truth and invention is a key plank of Chinese director Jia Zhang-Ke's work, which skates so close to documentary it is hard to spot the join.

Although the structure is offbeat, and the muscular scoring from Jonas Colstrup (The Square) emphasises the emotional rollercoaster, Fredriksson’s film remains empathetic to all concerned.

Liubyi’s film succeeds in bringing home not just the enormity of the crash itself but of the scale of what was lost aboard.

As the modest camera follows Younes and his family, the directors dignify his struggle.

The camera is close when it needs to be but often focused on a detail, such as hands on a rosary or capturing the detail of surroundings, including religious iconography or the texture of a horse’s coat that help us to feel Mother Vera’s place within these spaces.

Through a collage of footage shot by numerous brave protesters, she pieces together a statement about film as identity, in a country where the individual slowly fades away.

A heartfelt film.

Beautifully shot and measured in its purpose, Okurimono invites the viewer to patiently discover the emotional layers of a story about generational pain and the need to constantly address it to pave the path for rejuvenation.

Jia Zhang-Ke 's style has an honesty that may be limited, but is admirable, too.

These are the nooks and crannies where the ghosts still hang out, whistling in the dark, eager to haunt anew a crowd.

The Devil, you might say, is in the details.

It’s quickly apparent that entering prison means becoming part of the collective body that is the prisoner population, with the choreographed movements that accompany the songs reinforcing the sense of synchronicity.

More of a mood piece than a strong narrative tale.