The film’s locations are a feast for the eyes.

Malkovich and Rockwell are magnetic.

I suspected there'd be ideas introduced that lesser films would attempt to spin out while this grabbed another and another and another, and so it came to pass.

La Bola Negra was an unfinished work in a life cut short but the film named (variously) for it is extension and tribute and triumph.

Anchored by Anthony Ippolito’s performance – he not only bears a striking resemblance to Stallone, but his physical and verbal mimicry is uncanny.

While there are undeniably parts built for the big screen spectacle, which are juxtaposed with an emotional weight, the film's rudimentary form is the enemy within.

Writer/director Hanna Bergholm walks the line with skill.

Seydoux takes us into the maelstrom with Lucy, determined and doubtful, angry and grief-stricken, fearful and belligerent all at the same time.

More poetic than narrative, its disparate stories connecting as a sort of shared elegy to what and whom has been lost.

The most volatile, morally complicated material is treated as turbulence to pass through rather than weather to be reported.

This is about war being fought in a moral maze as Hawkins considers the invasion of space owned by others and the way that borders, both physical and ethical, can be redrawn from a very corporeal perspective.

Credit is due to John G Avildsen for directing (he won one of three trophies), but the real victory here belongs to Sly.

With its beautiful look and haunting themes and sublime performances, Raise The Red Lantern is Yimou’s master work.

A masterpiece of accomplishment.

In making V a symbol of vengeance, valiance and victory, V For Vendetta does for a letter of the alphabet what Kill Bill did for the colour yellow.

A film of extraordinary complexity and fascination.