Search: Directed by Bruno Dumont

An inward, austere examination of ideas of madness, empathy and the creative impulse.

If you've ever wondered what a Star Wars pastiche by Monty Python might look like if barely any of the jokes landed then the latest film from Bruno Dumont is for you.

France is a supremely sad film, maybe the saddest Dumont has made in its interplay of the true and the fake.

Its depictions of the callousness and paranoia which can develop in war are intelligently handled, yet they make it difficult for the viewer to feel much real concern for the fate of these people.

For a film about the brimming over of one girl's emotional fervour, it does surprisingly little to elicit a 'gut response' from the audience.

A film of extraordinary power.

Eternal greatness encounters sacrifice and the film dares to musically tackle questions of complicity in evil. Péguy's socialism, patriotism, and Catholicism mix well with the eager young actors. This is unlike any film you have ever seen.

The whole film adheres to the director’s credo that simple story-telling does not mean a lack of depth or subtlety, or roughness around the edges.

Dumont - for all the outlandishness of the film in other aspects - prioritises a messy realism over straightforward likeability in relation to his protagonists.

A jarringly odd mix of dull and disturbing that comes with its own quasi-religious frisson for a jaded age.

The absurd exaggerations and the wild parishes of humor are completely original, never cruel, and attached to a physicality that is pure cinema.

What makes all this compelling is the underlying sense of brooding menace.