Viva — A–Z of films

The stage begins to feel like the only space where anyone is honest, even when miming to somebody else's voice.

It should come as no surprise, given the kitsch and extravagant props and costumes, that the film has been co-produced by Pedro Almodovar and his brother Augustin.

While the odds are, no doubt, stacked against her, Berneri gives Alanis a real sense of agency.

The rituals set in motion at the start, also tune us into the wavelength of portent, so that a heron's feet on a rug or the sound of locusts carry at least as much threat as the site of a loaded gun.

The film contains grotesque violence and slapstick humour in a nonetheless affectionate take on the horror genre.

The film is laced with both deadpan and sly humour, and is laugh out loud funny.

Megias acquits himself well, presenting us with a complex character whose emotions run deep.

Both Rodriguez and Rohana deliver delicate, nuanced performances in a story that revolves in large part around friendship.

Berlanga excels at the chaos of everyday life - the messiness of human interactions and the way in which lives randomly interconnect.

It's difficult to express just what a bold piece of work this film is.

The writer/director casts his net wide, taking inspiration from auteurs like John Boorman and Sam Peckinpah through to freeze-frame moments that could slot straight into TV detective dramas of the time.

The film cuts every so often to one of the few monuments honouring the victims of Franco’s regime; faceless statues pierced with bullet holes on a deserted mountain side. The Silence Of Others puts real faces to these figures.

It's in dance that the film's strength lies, illustrating, through choreography, Acosta's more abstract - and more negative - emotions, including fear, loneliness and lust.