Release Date – 11th March 2022, Cert – 15, Run-time – 1 hour 37 minutes, Director – Ruth Paxton

Widowed mother Holly (Sienna Guillory) begins to fear for her teenage daughter, Betsey (Jessica Alexander), when she begins to refuse to eat, and yet loses no weight. While it may initially seem as a response to grief, it may be closer to an unexplained possession.

There’s a real attention to detail when it comes to the various dishes and drinks that line the extensive family dining table in which many pivotal scenes involving mother Holly (Sienna Guillory) and teenage daughter Betsey (Jessica Alexander) play out. Plates and glasses full of colour have a dark shadow cast across them as if some form of evil has been injected into them. It’s perhaps exactly how Betsey sees what is put in front of her as what her mother sees as a refusal to eat intensifies. However, what could be a response of grief after the loss of her father could be linked more closely to possession, particularly after a not properly seen event at a friend’s party, as Betsey’s weight remains the same despite not consuming anything. Regardless tensions begin to rise between the two as heated arguments and words fly not just across the table, but across the house as a whole. Holly finds herself unable to understand why her daughter won’t eat, appearing to become scared and from there frustration rises.

While the elements relating to grief are certainly present within the eating disorder walls of the piece as the film begins to lean more into the idea of potential possession it begins to explore such reaches more. It’s around this point where things feel slightly more drawn out. The central line is good and a number of scenes, particularly the interactions led by character’s in-the-moment emotional responses, work well but when everything comes together it doesn’t quite grab you as something overly convincing. Particularly as the idea of Betsey not being in control of her own body is further explored and a feeling of being too treaded begins to settle – particularly when it comes to some of the other elements of the piece that slightly seem to fall behind the primary focus of the themes and narrative.

Despite a handful of interesting moments that focus on the worries and fears of each of the characters, relating to their family unit and how it feels to them as if it may be falling apart after their recent bereavement, overall there’s a feeling that A Banquet begins to lose itself amongst the ideas that it has in its mixture. There are some which manage to rise and work every now and then. They’re conveyed with more certainty and helped along by the performances at the centre of the piece. However, things begin to detach as certain themes and ideas take the lead and create a feeling that the film is starting to lose itself, which carries on throughout much of the third act up until the ending.

It’s hard to properly engage with what becomes the somewhat hectic nature of the piece as points are jumbled and switched and yet true uncertainty, or perhaps rather ambiguity, never properly lies in terms of what the cause of Betsey’s eating disorder is. Tensions between the family may rise, but amongst everything that’s being wrapped up and further explored in the final 20-30 minutes things get lost, and the viewer simply becomes even more disengaged from the piece. The quiet-to-loud table interactions are gone as the darkness begins to settle in. But, there’s little effect due to the sense of disengagement from the film. Pushing the feeling of the run-time and unfortunately not providing much savoury food for thought as the credits begin to roll.

While there are a handful of interesting interactions led by character emotions within A Banquet the film as a whole somewhat loses itself as it juggles between its ideas of grief and possession. It pushes the run-time and gradually as one becomes more focused upon the viewer loses engagement within the slightly over-treaded ideas.

Release Date – 21st January 2022, Cert – 12, Run-time – 1 hour 22 minutes, Director – CJ Hunt

Documentary looking into the feuding reactions and campaigns in response to the New Orleans City Council’s vote to remove four confederate statues in the city, with similar events happening around the world.

When it comes to great editing documentaries are very often left out of the conversation. However, it would be hard to not feel the stirring impact of CJ Hunt’s The Neutral Ground if it wasn’t for the effective editing which allows for the fine balance between the serious and the comedic in what manages to stretch beyond the feeling of a feature length Daily Show segment. Yes, there’s certainly injections of humour that naturally emerge throughout from Hunt as he naturally adapts his wit to the situation, but it contrasts well with the shock and seriousness that comes in a number of montage-like sequences that appear throughout the film. After scenes from the Charlottesville riots Hunt seems almost unable to make a joke after what he has witnessed. It reflects the shocked and terrified nature of the viewer.

The film revolves around the reactions, protests and even attacks spawned by the decision of the New Orleans City Council to remove four confederate statues in the city. We’re eased in to the situation through the comedic slant of the opening monologue. Bringing about plenty of early chuckles the film soon settles and breezes through informing the audience of the situation as it begins to look into the history of the statues and the effects that they have had on the residents of the city, and indeed America where many alike statues stand. While only 82 minutes there’s plenty of unforced information stored within Hunt’s film. Finely delivered through the general construction of the piece that manages to blend the engaging humour with the lump-in-your-throat shock.

Reaching beyond the grand-scale disputes over the controversial, long-standing monuments Hunt manages to look at the idea of black history in America. It’s stated that “we as black people have only heard a small fraction of our story” as the idea of how American history, particularly in response to the near-romanticising of who some deem as heroes of the Civil War, is taught and told. Not just in the modern day, but how it has been over the years. There’s an interesting perspective and set of discussions that are enhanced by Hunt’s clear natural passion for all subjects that are being covered within the film. None of which ever feel tangential or distracting from the main point at hand. Everything links and helps to tell the story in a concise, informative and engaging way. It’s easy to get caught up within the flow of things and have your interest in the subject matter increased over time as more is glimpsed and talked about. All led by an interested, interesting and concerned director and witness.

By the well-tuned ending The Neutral Ground leaves things slightly open. Providing space for discussion and thought afterwards. It doesn’t just ask the various interviewees and contributors questions, but also the audience. Inviting them to play an active role in what plays out in the weeks and months that are depicted. Both in America and around the world, a montage demonstrating statues being removed and toppled all across the world includes the Bristol crowd who took down the statue of Edward Colston. With ease, Hunt makes a film not just for those in New Orleans, or America. But something to create a sense of thought, understanding and progressive conversation around the world. It does it in an engaging and effective manner that manages to create humour, occasionally poking fun, and still create a stunning sense of horror and seriousness. All well-controlled in the editing process which simply helps to craft The Neutral Ground into the finely blended passionate documentary that it is.

Thanks to the fine editing and guiding figure of CJ Hunt The Neutral Ground is a passionate documentary that effectively balances its comedy and seriousness to bring the viewer in for an engaging, impactful, consistently interesting and occasionally shocking piece of work that’ll leave plenty of questions and thought stirring in your mind long after.

Release Date – 11th February 2022, Cert – 15, Run-time – 1 hour 29 minutes, Director – Jonas Poher Rasmussen

Animated documentary following Amin Nawabi as he recounts his childhood in 80s and 90s Afghanistan before finding refuge in Denmark many years later.

“Most people can’t begin to understand how fleeing like that effects you” states Amin Nawabi after having recounted much of his tale from growing up in 80s and 90s Afghanistan, eventually finding refuge in Denmark; after a harsh time in post-Soviet Russia. His words are true, as an audience throughout the course of Jonas Poher Rasmussen’s documentary we witness much of his story as its translated into an animated form. Bringing to life Nawabi’s words and placing us in the world that his words are helping to form. It brings a more visual sense to the piece, and thanks to a handful of different styles helps to get more across and form more of a connection with the viewer.

While holding a short run-time – at just under 90 minutes – Flee is certainly filled with plenty of detail, outside of the animation. It comes in Nawabi’s words as his recounts of events and tragedy in his life, simply to gain freedom. Given freedom by the director and, more clearly, his friend to tell his story as it comes to him. It’s made clear when moments are being slightly filled in, and generally where we are; for example whether we’re looking at the interview or the unfolding story of Amin’s life, thanks to a handful of slightly different animation styles. For example, a number of the darker moments of fighting for safety and survival are portrayed with what feels like slightly scratchier animation, an almost hand-drawn style, to get across a harsher tone. It works and certainly has an effect, bringing the audience further into the story as the world feels even more detailed beyond what we’re already being told. Even by seeing animated interpretations of the interview setup, where Amin occasionally lies down almost like a therapy session, the film could be seen as the events playing out in his mind, adding to the personal and emotional core of the piece.

Much of the emotional engagement that we have with the film appears to come from the animation which helps to lift up and strengthen so many moments. As we get a look into the world that is being described, and also means that there’s more time to focus on the story instead of hearing descriptions of surroundings and areas. It creates a closer bond with Amin, almost alike to that which he appears to have with Rasmussen. Allowing for a finer sense of flow to his words and an overall stripped back nature to the way in which they speak. The film as a whole, in fact, has the feeling of something quite stripped back, and yet still holding plenty of details within the animation. All particularly helping when it comes to the way he initially interacts with a more open world; the thoughts that come to mind in regards to living in Denmark and visiting America.

There’s thoughtfulness at each turn and stage of the life story, and always a thought of the subject as a person, not just his story. Learning about and understanding his sexuality in a time and country where homosexuality is largely unacknowledged, and, if it is seen, simply deemed as wrong and something to be met with severe consequences. Such moments manage to break through well and fit naturally into Amin’s story. And while the film’s focus is still very much on the physical journeys that he takes in increasingly desperate search for safety and as he later puts it “a life” there’s still time and space to occasionally get glimpses into his life in Denmark and the contrast that it has to the confinement, uncertainty, isolation and fear he felt before. It’s again further show in the animation styles and the way in which they pair up with what Amin is saying. Creating a story that is both visually and more emotionally engaging and allows us to follow what the subject is saying with more understanding and connection. All in an attempt to help us understand the effect that fleeing has had on him. While we might not be able to fully do so, Flee certainly does a good job of getting us some of the way there, particularly on a level of personal change and emotion.

Flee’s use of animation helps us to form a better sense of understanding when it comes to the personal story of its subject. By varying styles we get put into the world and the emotional effects that it creates, and indeed created. Focusing not just on the journeys themselves, but the person (and people) who went through them.

Release Date – 21st January 2022, Cert – 12, Run-time – 2 hours 8 minutes, Director – Asghar Farhadi

When given two days of parole from his prison sentence Rahim (Amir Jadidi) attempts to paint an image of himself as an honest, almost saintly, man in the hope of never going back, despite cynicism from his creditor (Mohsen Tanabandeh).

There’s so much about the general narrative of A Hero that could lead it to so easily fall into comedy that perhaps one of the most admirable things about it is that it’s mostly consistent in the dramatic tone in which it presents. Yes, there’s certainly room for chuckles every now and then, and it threatens to tip into farce as elements lead on to other occurrences, but largely the drama of writer-director Asghar Farhadi’s latest is somewhat set in stone. He follows the increasingly worried and desperate flight of Amir Jadidi’s Rahim as he tries to present the world with a narrative of his saintly actions, in the hope that his jail term for unpaid debts will be terminated, instead of remaining as the two days of parole which he has been given.

It all begins when his girlfriend Farkhondeh (Sahar Goldust) discovers a bag of gold coins, which when proved to not be worth very much are offered up as a found item. Rahim claims he found the bag when searching for the owner, attempting to paint himself in a good light with this heroic deed. While the world goes mad over his gradually increasing yarn, which soon requires family support – especially from his young son (Saleh Karimai); whose stammer is eventually used for sympathy points, and that from strangers, to keep things afloat, his creditor, Bahram (Mohsen Tanabandeh) remains cynical. There’s a strong cast at the centre of this piece, particularly Jadidi in the leading role, consistently reminding the viewer of the drama at play. This is a film that could so easily feel tired, calling back to features we’ve seen before with similar strands and narratives, if played out as an out and out comedy.

Everything sets up for the chaos that all the lies create in the second half. The winding roads of deception that are being spun out as increasing interested is shown towards the story of this lost bag of ‘valuable’ gold coins. As the second half arrives the risk of stepping into something farcical comes back into play, with the film luckily swerving to just about avoid it. Instead while the piece doesn’t quite lose steam it does somewhat dip as you feel the winding nature of the piece pushing along the run-time. While not by much the feeling that one or two scenes could be slightly trimmed down is present, especially as more is added on to make the initial deceit that bit more complex, eventually involving even more people. Rahim’s aim soon becomes not being out of jail for good, but simply not being found out so that he ends up in jail for even longer once he returns.

It’s something you can see running through his mind during a number of the lengthier ensemble conversations, where most of the occasional humour lies in such effective interactions. An increased panic spreading through his eyes with each addition to the elaborate tale he’s telling, with each new detail he needs to craft and, more importantly, remember. All with suspicion and doubt being cast upon him, and an ever-looming creditor (Tanabandeh also on excellent form), insistent on payment before he considers anything to do with Rahim’s jail term.

Such elements and interactions, while occasionally somewhat lengthy, act as some of the highlights of the film as the characters get the opportunity to, while initially through a kind of mediator, bounce off each other and play a, sometimes unknowing, role in the developing course of Rahim’s tale. It eventually pushes the run-time a bit beyond where it would perhaps be better suited, but overall there’s a solid drama to be found within A Hero. One that while occasional straying towards farce in the winding nature of the second half manages to keep its head above water thanks to a selection of fine performances that recognise the drama in the script and bring that about to stop a tired comedic tone coming through.

While a bit overlong, because of the winding additions to the initial lie of Jadidi’s finely performed central character, A Hero never fully strays into comedy or farce. While there are some chuckles the performances largely remind you that what is playing out is a piece of drama.

Release Date – 11th March 2022, Cert – 18, Run-time – 2 hours 8 minutes, Director – Sean Baker

Washed-up porn star Mikey (Simon Rex) returns to his small town Texas roots, trying to start his career back up while getting caught up with his ex-wife (Bree Elrod) and teenage doughnut shop worker Strawberry (Suzanna Son).

With Red Rocket, Sean Baker once again takes a look at the dramas of those away from the mainstream, or rather those next door to it. We see washed-up porn star Mikey (Simon Rex) return after years in LA to the Texas town which he used to call home, to a brick-wall response. He hasn’t thought that turning his back on everyone in his life would cause them to hold grudges against him. Including his ex-wife, Lexi (Bree Elrod), who he ends up living with again while he tries to set his career back up. He’s waiting for his second big break, but doesn’t know where to find it. Until he meets seventeen year old doughnut shop worker Strawberry (Suzanna Son). His initial attention, and frequenting of Donut Hole – almost as much as the builders across the road – begins to switch to his own thoughts of jumping back into the porn industry, with her help. She could be the person to save him and pick him back up in multiple ways.

This relationship between the pair, which becomes more prominent the more Mikey focuses on getting back to California, could so easily become uncomfortable, particularly with the various raunchy (to put it mildly…) discussions that take place between them. The thought does enter your mind that it might begin to reach a point that’s a step too far, however Baker manages to just about restrain things by not making the relationship the core of the film. In fact Red Rocket isn’t even always about Mikey and the way he interacts with the world, more the way the world; and the people within it, interact with, and behave around, him. It forms a set of events with no largely overarching plot, although characters (particularly the comedically determined protagonist, excellently performed by Rex who manages to bring about a fair few chuckles throughout the piece) do have their own personal hopes and goals, and it passes well in this way.

Through Baker’s now distinct cinematography we see the various locations in a hazy, almost dizzying for the characters, light. As they each get caught up in each other’s stories; trying to get used to a new life while attempting to continue on as they once did before, although change can properly be brought about for good, there’s plenty to see and be involved in. Amongst the, somewhat light feeling, dramas there’s a fair handful of humour dashed throughout the piece that keeps things going and certainly keeps you in place as Mikey’s ambitions begin to overinflate and overtake even himself, while never quite seeming unlikeable due to coming across as egotistical.

It’s as events change because of Mikey’s not properly thought through dreams that the various incidents to bring the film to a close arrive. Much of the third act feels somewhat tacked on to the rest of the film, generally heightening the already existent feeling that things could be cut down a bit. Much like the central figure the film almost begins to get ahead of itself and, while not an entirely different piece, does feel as if it’s gone through something of a shift to match the on-screen panic and desperation in what becomes a true last-ditch attempt to leave the perceived emptiness of small town life for good. Rex is still on great form as his character and his hopes are brought more towards the centre at this time, but the film as a whole begins to sway as it introduces and brings back elements to wrap itself up. It’s a slightly drawn out set of events that pushes the run-time beyond the already lengthy two hour mark and begins to somewhat disengage you from the piece as a whole. There’s still something good playing out, just of a rather different pitch and tone to that which was jogging along beforehand.

By bringing in some laughs, thanks to a great ensemble cast, particularly an excellent Simon Rex, Red Rocket manages to stray away from an overly heavy, or uncomfortable, feel. However, its run-time feels stretched, particular in the shift of, what feels like, the tacked on third act.

Release Date – 4th March 2022, Cert – 15, Run-time – 1 hour 35 minutes, Director – Clio Barnard

Romantically lonely souls Ali (Adeel Akhtar) and Ava (Claire Rushbrook) spark a surprise relationship which appears to create familial rifts as they grow closer.

There’s a highly down-to-earth naturalistic nature to writer-director Clio Barnard’s Ali And Ava. It removes a ‘will they, won’t they’ feel from her romantic drama as you simply watch the relationship between the two initially romantically lonely souls grow. The pair have had their fair share of relationship troubles (to put it mildly). Ali (an excellent Adeel Akhtar) is a landlord with a passion for music, collecting money from his various tenants, who he appears to be on very friendly terms with – seemingly the case with everyone he meets, greeting them with a courteous smile. Meanwhile, Ava (Claire Rushbrook) is a softly-spoken, mild-mannered classroom assistant and caring mother, still recovering from her abusive ex-husband, and a tense relationship with her son, Callum (Shaun Thomas). The pair meet after a chance encounter when Ali is picking one of his tenants kids up from school in the pouring rain, just as Ava is about to begin walking home herself.

It’s an initial click that starts the snowballing effect into a friendship and beyond. The pair natter and discuss and set off on very friendly terms with each other. It’s a close friendship that has clearly been missing from their lives for a fair while and it’s certainly interesting to see it develop in some of the quieter conversational scenes between the pair. However, on discovery the bond between the pair is met with frustration and anger from Callum, going for the attack on Ali, who himself is trying to hide his connection to Ava from his soon-to-be-separated wife Runa (Ellora Torchia) and family as a whole, and vice versa. It’s such moments that lie within slightly longer scenes with perhaps a bit less connection to than those holding the bonding of the central friendship, and eventual romance.

In general the themes are well handled and they fit the short 95 minute run-time well, and with little complaints, however the feeling is present that one or two do feel slightly extended. Things don’t completely stray into ‘this could be a short film’ territory, and this is perhaps largely down to the run-time and the two central performances that are at the heart of the film – capturing the fine, naturalistic bond that acts as the core of the piece in the first place. While the friendship feels more developed than the more romantic side which is introduced later on; perhaps because of the engaging scenes of bantering and bonding over music and general conversations and observations on life, in the simple setting of Ava’s cluttered living room, there’s still enough to keep you engaged in the film as a whole and get you to the end.

It just all gives the ending a slightly rushed feeling as with everything developed, particularly between Ava and her son, adding potential dramas and tensions to the titular pairing. After a handful of longer and slower scenes making up quiet observations throughout the film the final stages almost feel as if something is missing, you’re almost waiting for further development from the quick-feeling ending. Perhaps there’s a want for certainty for the viewer towards the characters after everything we’ve seen them endure and go through. There’s not exactly a growth so to say, but a re-gaining of something they both knew was missing from their lives, having acknowledged and lived within that gap every day. It’s a point made and felt in a handful of scenes, particularly as the relationship begins to grow and we see things develop with interest. There’s a mild warmth between the well-performed Ali and Ava and it certainly helps to heighten the coldness of some of the drama. Some of these elements simply feel slightly drawn out, and engage you further in the perceived light of the initial friendship.

The titular Ali and Ava are brought to life by two excellent central performances who understand and fill the gap in the others life. While some dramatic elements feel slightly drawn out there’s enough within the central relationship, particularly the initial bonding, to keep you in place for the short run-time.

Release Date – 4th February 2022, Cert – 15, Run-time – 1 hour 47 minutes, Director – Joanna Hogg

Student filmmaker Julie’s (Honor Swinton Byrne) graduation film becomes a lookback in multiple ways as she attempts to capture her past relationship, after her partner passed away from an overdose.

2019’s The Souvenir perhaps gained something of an eventually mixed reception. It focused on the relationship between student filmmaker Julie (Honor Swinton Byrne) and her older partner, Anthony (Tom Burke). A number of their conversations revolved around art and film, particularly when his friends became involved. In this intended second part to writer-director Joanna Hogg’s semi-autobiographical story we see Julie using her experiences as the basis for her graduation film, however her real world experiences begin to overlap with her creative vision, causing frustrations for her cast and crew.

While she wants to make a perfect film, a good final product to prove herself, she’s striving to make an accurate depiction of events that demonstrates what she’s been through – almost as an act of therapy. We see her struggle trying to piece things together, especially with a very tight budget, with her stresses flowing in her everyday life – her slight doubts and worries felt in each scene. Occasional meetings with Richard Ayoade’s more present Patrick don’t always help. His strive for perfection in his big-production musical, and indeed his own life, aren’t always sources of consolation for Julie – all finely displayed within a strong central performance from Swinton Byrne.

While perhaps mostly for those who have seen the first film, The Souvenir Part II concerns itself deeply with the creative process. The forms of expression in which Julie concerns herself with when it comes to making her film as perfect as possible. She’s both got full control and yet appears to be losing it as realism is aimed for. There’s a shift as we reach an almost unexpected turn into dream-like sequences which eventually act as some of the most engaging points in the film. Capturing something new within the piece overall and the central character. It captures your attention with an almost unpredictable nature as to where this will take the film and the character as a whole, particularly at a pivotal point in the creative process of the work that Julie and her crew are producing. All floating within the swirl of the conflicting words “just make what makes you happy, what you like, what you’re interested in, and it’ll work”.

There’s perhaps more to hook onto and engage with in this sequel, particularly for those who may have been more lukewarm, or even generally negative, towards the first film. It feels different, matching the new stage in the life of the protagonist, and while initially similar to the original and holding some slightly scattered ideas things manage to draw you in as it delves into the conflict of creativity and personal experiences and accuracy that’s being experiences at the heart of the film. Acknowledging what the past may have actually been like, what was went through, instead of potentially sugar-coating it like before – especially when told “I’m coming up against your idea of him, rather than the reality of him” when trying to cooperate within the actors bringing to life her remembrances in the cramped and tightly-built set.

It’s interesting to see where the film reaches and where Julie, as a character, goes over the course of the narrative. There are plenty of engaging notes, not just within the scenes involving the film production and creativity. Even scenes involving Tilda Swinton and Julie’s mother, Rosalind, have a sense of thought, and slight calm to them – this is Tilda Swinton in the role of a caring mother, after all! (Forming a number of brief and emotionally ranging highlights within her scenes).

Once all is pieced together and Julie’s relationships throughout the film are established, as she’s opened up to the world outside of her past relationship, there are a handful of points to help bring you in to The Souvenir Part II. Mostly revolving around the progression of the well-performed central figure, and the film she’s trying to make – whether it be semi-autobiographical narrative, or documentary style-recreation. Such feelings are present within this sequel and they blend well together to tell a form of dual lookback; acting with personal and creative confliction that help to bring you in further. Swinton Byrne’s character has been allowed to open up into the world, but is almost closing herself off to her vision of the past. This is a film of a handful of strands and subtleties that build up overtime, developing into something quietly engaging and interesting, all down to the detail and thought of the central figure’s personal arc.

The Souvenir Part II is largely concerned with the personal and creative conflict and unity of its well-performed central figure. Details expand overtime, helping to bring you in, and lead to further engaging surprises that work well for both Hogg’s and Swinton Byrne’s central character’s visions.