Release Date – 23rd January 2026, Cert – 15, Run-time – 2 hours 8 minutes, Director – Oliver Hermanus

World War I, two music students (Paul Mescal, Josh O’Connor) find their relationship defined by folk music they share and archive, even as the war and years separates them.

The History Of Sound isn’t an 8am film. Especially 8am in the final two days of a film festival. It’s a film that certainly needs time and attention as it itself takes its time with slow pacing, charting the years that pass by – and the distance that increases – between main character Lionel (Paul Mescal) and lover David (Josh O’Connor). The pair’s relationship starts as music students at university, leading them to recording and archiving folk music across America before the war leads to multiple separations between them over the passing years.

Mescal and O’Connor are fantastic together. Gently commanding each scene they appear in together. A musical introduction at a bar piano sets off a sensual bond formed through song. While the opening stages, and indeed marketing, may place this as a two-hander between the pair it’s undoubtedly led by Mescal with O’Connor really not being in this as much as you might expect. It’s his character’s life that we hear of having changed over the years while we actually see that of Lionel’s playing out.

The film’s basis, and depiction of music in the lives of the characters, is summed up rather nicely in the closing stages. Chris Cooper briefly crops up to tell us about “stories with sadness so great they return to songs.” There’s a feeling of melancholy throughout the film which is almost rounded off with this phrase, a reflective sadness from Mescal’s Lionel as he seems to look back on his life, constantly thinking about David, and the music that brought them together in the first place. There’s a clear sadness pushed in the folk music we hear throughout, emphasising the slow and reflective nature of the film. As if something has been lost even before the relationship has started.

That feeling of loss carries over once the pair are distance by the war, however that also comes in the form of losing O’Connor’s presence for good chunks of time. The film is at its best when he and Mescal share the screen, creating an engaging style and intimacy in the conversations their characters have. It means that there’s more interest in their bond together than when largely focusing on one – despite the continued strength of the respective performances, particularly Mescal who acts as lead with O’Connor very much being support.

Particularly when distanced Lionel’s longing emphasises the slow pacing that runs throughout the just over two-hour run-time. The knock-on effect of everything coming together is a slightly overlong feeling to the film with just how slow it is, and especially the strongest elements being somewhat far apart (even if intentionally so). It just makes us, like the central character, wish for O’Connor’s return, largely for that added spark that helps see things through.

While Mescal and O’Connor are both on great form in The Sound Of History it’s particularly when sharing the screen together, when distanced the slightly-too-slow pacing is highlighted and while watchable there feels something missing to really maintain full engagement.

Release Date – 23rd January 2026, Cert – 15, Run-time – 2 hours 19 minutes, Director – Park Chan-wook

Man-su (Lee Byung-hun) is made redundant from his years-long, high-paying job, losing his and his family’s life of luxury. To get a new job, and reclaim that life, he desperately seeks to eliminate the competition.

“Losing your job isn’t the problem. The problem is how you deal with it.” Man-su (Lee Byung-hun) chooses to deal with the loss of his well-paying job of 25 years, leading a small team at a paper company’s factory, by getting out there and getting a new job. However, despite interviews in his former industry, he only finds jobs that just help him and his family to scrape by. Thus, when a job much like his former position comes up he sets out to research the competition and eliminate them as best he can.

It’s not quite the case that the dark comedy in Park Chan-wook’s latest is truly dark, and more that the film as a whole is a very dark affair. Properly finding its flow as this tone settles in with callbacks to Michael Palin in A Fish Called Wanda as Man-su takes it upon himself to off his fellow candidates, starting with those who post the biggest threat to his chances of employment. Yet, unlike Palin’s Ken, Lee’s character is guided largely by dead-pan fear, which itself stems from a sense of greed. After having cancelled dance lessons and tennis sessions, given away the family dogs and moved to a smaller place (without a Netflix subscription!) Man-su is desperate to get him and his family back to the life they once lived.

Lee delivers a strong performance with much veiled behind his straight-faced expression. Park brings about a similar tone to the way in which he views the film, looking on the events seriously and bringing out the sinister edges of the central character’s desperation as it becomes more deadly. Bringing out a good handful of chuckles along the way, especially once past the wealthy lifestyle set-up. It’s the attempt at planning, and stages and struggles of execution, where the film feels most clear and has the best flow. Perhaps why also the ending feels somewhat drawn-out – although the film as a whole generally gets through it’s 139-minute run-time with relative ease thanks to the focus that it develops in the twisted job hunt at hand.

The serious way in which writer-director Park looks at these events is maintained throughout and adds to the layer of commentary present in the social satire that constructs much of what we see. As things go on the familiar idea of machine-working comes into play, although within the much more present modern context and links to AI. It’s worked into brief looks at the wider workforce, also impacted by the layoffs that Man-su is subject to, but not touched upon by his perspective. Pushing the idea of greed, and malice alongside it, that seems to motivate his actions more than anything else – next to the pressure from his family.

A dark comedy with emphasis on the darkness in its satire, No Other Choice leans best as Lee Byung-hun’s brilliant dead-pan performance fractures amongst the desperate Fish Called Wanda antics where the film feels most direct and solid.

Release Date – 5th December 2025, Cert – 12, Run-time – 1 hour 44 minutes, Director – Jafar Panahi

A group of former prisoners believe they’ve kidnapped the man who tortured them whilst imprisoned, but is it the right person and what should they do with him?

Perhaps because of largely only seeing much of Jafar Panahi’s output post-house arrest and ban on filmmaking from the Iranian government I wasn’t quite prepared for the farcical tones of It Was Just An Accident. Each character is frantic in their growing lack of uncertainty as to whether the man that they have kidnapped, a face that tortured them whilst in prison, is who they believe him to be. The more people we see in the contained ensemble, and the more places we find them in, the more moral questions grow as to what the characters are doing in their possible revenge.

Yet, amongst the patches of humour which crop up here and there the overhanging threat is clear. Both in regards to possible consequences and, again, the moral questions raised by the characters and the film. It brings a consistency to the film while the various stages can be seen as Vahid (Vahid Mobasseri), the man who first sees the suspected Eghbal (Ebrahim Azizi), travels to the different faces who also faced torture in prison.

The set-up takes a quick turn as we initially follow Eghbal after taking his car to Vahid to be fixed, having hit a dog whilst driving at night. From here, and the shift to Vahid’s kidnapping and attempt to bury the unconscious driver in the open desert, the film’s title takes on multiple meanings and perspectives. It’s something that writer-director Panahi keeps as much intense focus on as his camera, steadily and observantly following each interaction and development amongst the questions which some characters are doing a better job of holding back than others – as if some are just looking for an excuse to let out their long-held-in pain and rage in whatever way gives a good enough excuse.

The phrase “you killed me a hundred times, have you forgotten?” echoes long after its asked. Accidents and excuses are looked into in subtle detail as the narrative naturally unfolds, even if the stages are noticeable. Much of this comes through in the dialogue and the often crammed-in nature of conversations. Whether through not wanting to be overheard – rushing out of a wedding photo session proves to be particularly amusing – or being crammed into the back of a van, with the body in a box acting as a seat. Panahi and his camera are quietly analytical of the characters in the film and the things they say, and try to hide. Making for an intriguing, unexpectedly farcical drama.

An analytical drama with enjoyable moments of farce which provide a flow to the clear stages of the narrative, It Was Just An Accident looks into the multiple meanings and perspectives of the title with ease and detail towards the moral questions at hand.

Release Date – 16th January 2025, Cert – 15, Run-time – 1 hour 29 minutes, Director – Kaouther Ben Hania

52 miles from Gaza, a group of call centre volunteers try to get an ambulance to a 6-year-old trapped in a car surrounded by IDF soldiers. Navigating an endless process of requests and approvals.

“This dramatisation is based on real events, and emergency calls recorded that day… The voices on the phone are real.” As the volunteers at a Red Crescent call centre 52 miles from Gaza talk to 6-year-old Hind Rajab, it feels as if they’re actually talking to a child. Perhaps because, in some ways, they are. There’s a shaking sense of false calmness to their voices as they try to keep the child, and in some ways themselves, calm whilst trapped in a car waiting for an ambulance to be given permission to reach the area.

Calls have been re-routed from the strip after communications there have been destroyed in mass bombings. All the action is contained within the call centre, our minds create images that fit right in alongside the fears we hold there, too. Although, after someone manages to find a picture, we see an image of Hind’s face, smiling, before the war (the events the film recreates happened in January 2024). Terrifying rumbles and gunshots in the background of Hind’s call are paired with the peaks and dips of the audio wave recording; like looking at a heart-rate monitor with the growing worry of seeing a straight line, although in this case without a constant beep.

The route to get permission for an ambulance is endless with constant delays in communication with the relevant parties. On many occasions it seems as if it’s too late, with the volunteers struggling to hold back their tears of fear and worry. Motaz Malhees and Saja Kilani who we hear the most from give powerhouse performances overflowing with emotion, the kind that should be in the Lead Actor and Actress Oscar conversation! It’s through the performances of the small ensemble that much of the emotion of the film is conveyed, and exerted.

Yet, the tension continues to be ramped up as the hours go on and darkness starts to descend. Progress doesn’t feel like progress when there are so many hoops to be signed off before they can be jumped through. A moment of guided meditation is for the audience as much as it is those on-screen. It allows us to escape the glaring lights of the darkened call centre just for a moment and see some gentle sunlight. A glimmer of peace and hope, even if just to cling to to calm our minds amongst the tragedy at hand. A more prolonged moment compared to the very light, brief moments of natural, conversational humour more confined to the early stages before the intensity of the situation truly spreads and the gunfire appears to get closer to the other side of the phone, or the call is hung up.

I can imagine that few screenings of The Voice Of Hind Rajab will be met with sound. When I saw it it was one of the few films where people have sat through the credits in silence. Even those who shuffled out during them seemed to do so slowly, quietly and with their heads slightly down, and in this case not in their phones. In some ways it’s a very communal experience, as it is for those on screen. Although in this case one of helplessness, distance and tense fear. I went in not knowing the outcome of the events, but I believe had I gone in knowing there would have still been as much emotion, suspense and tragedy to be experienced. Because, the film is about the inhumanity raging against the attempts to keep the 6-year-old trapped in the car safe, and that leads her to be there in the first place.

An emotionally devastating experience, The Voice Of Hind Rajab is a magnificently performed work where all involved give everything they can to create a tense, fearful depiction of desperation in the wake of tragedy and inhumanity.

Release Date – 9th January 2026, Cert – 12, Run-time – 1 hour 50 minutes, Director – Hikari

Small-time American actor Phillip (Brendan Fraser) gets a job working for a Tokyo-based company which sends people out to play small, often unknown, roles in strangers lives.

Because of the way in which UK awards releases still tend to work Rental Family finds itself with an early-January release date. That almost seems to be the perfect place for it. Not because it’s bad or a faded awards contender, or an abandoned studio horror, but because it feels like the perfect way to start the new year, with a warming hopeful tone.

The film is as gentle and soft-spoken as Brendan Fraser’s lead character, Phillip Vandarpleog. A kind, mild-mannered small-time American actor living in Japan, occasionally recognised for starring in a toothpaste advert. While waiting for a big opportunity Phillip is invited for a small role as ‘Sad American’, being thrown in to a funeral with no script or idea what’s happening. It’s not long until he’s hired by Rental Family company owner Shinji (Takehiro Hira) as the ‘token white guy’, being sent out to play small roles in people’s lives, often unknown to them after having been hired by a friend or family member. Whether it be interviewing a forgotten actor (Akira Emoto) for a pretend magazine or spending an hour or two playing video games with someone “sometimes all we need is for someone to look us in the eye and remind us we exist.”

The main role we see Phillip take on is as a father figure for young girl Mia (Shannon Mahina Gorman) in order to help her mother (Shino Shinozaki) get her into an esteemed school. However, as a bond starts to form between Phillip and Mia – creating some truly wonderful, thoughtfully-scripted interactions, including at a Monster Cat Festival – he starts to question the moral side of the work he’s been doing – as does colleague Aiko (a likable, if slightly underseen, Mari Yamamoto) who’s largely sent out to cover up affairs for cheating husbands. Co-writer (alongside Stephen Blahut) and director Hikari, with the help of editors Alan Baumgarten and Thomas A. Krueger, manages to take us from joy to disappointment and empathy to wonder-induced emotion seamlessly. The emotional course of Rental Family is consistently fluid and the run-time itself passes by quickly and with ease, in part because of the gentleness on display.

There’s a genuine heartfelt nature to everything we see, much of which is caught in Fraser’s wonderful, restrained central performance. It’s through him that most of the relationships and lives touched are seen, and the balance between the different characters and ‘roles’ Phillip takes on is well maintained whilst keeping the focus on Mia, who creates the most confliction in the lead as to what his temporary roles are actually doing.

Yet, even during these questions and the more emotional sequences I still found myself with a warm smile on my face simply from the joy of the film as a whole. The embrace that it creates for both the characters and the audience is close and comforting. Holding engagement and bringing in a number of good-natured laughs along the way. Not only is this a film that’s heart is in the right place, but it’s one that manages to do something with that, to. With the on-screen cast pushing the positive sides of the work we see the Rental Family group do in the core ideas of the film.

Rental Family was shown towards the end of this year’s London Film Festival. After over a week tiredness had well and truly started to settle in. By this stage it’s difficult to not find your head slightly nodding even at the best, and sometimes loudest, of films. Rental Family held me from start to finish with no risk of tiredness at all. Simply from the heartful emotion and gentleness that’s on display. It’s a positive, welcoming note to open the year on when the film finally releases in January. One to simply make us feel something, including a bit less alone whilst in its company.

Gentle and genuinely heartfelt, Rental Family flows through its emotions with ease and without feeling overcrowded. Brendan Fraser leads perfectly with a soft-spoken performance that captures so much of the films infectious warmth and positivity, even amongst the moral questions that the characters face.

Release Date – 9th January 2026, Cert – 12, Run-time – 2 hours 6 minutes, Director – Chloé Zhao

The marriage between William Shakespeare (Paul Mescal) and wife Agnes (Jessie Buckley) is put under consistent strain as he goes away to stage his plays, especially in the wake of familial tragedies where the pair struggle to communicate and express their grief with each other.

Jessie Buckley’s Agnes has pushed her way to the front of the audience at the Globe Theatre to watch the debut performance of her husband’s new play Hamlet. The pair have had little conversation for weeks as he flies to London to work on his latest production while she stays at home building up sadness, grief, anger and pain. As the performance begins we’re not watching Hamlet, or just Hamnet. We’re seeing Agnes relive the film’s events over again through a new lens.

While much of their relationship is seen as close, starting off with frequently running off into the woods, or nearest barn, together in the wake of familial struggles and tragedy communication begins to break down. Expression, especially loss and grief, isn’t present between the pair as Shakespeare (an excellent Paul Mescal, who could be a quiet threat in next year’s Supporting Actor Oscar race) consistently flies off to work – “that place in your head is now more real to you than anywhere else” – leaving Agnes even more alone to look after her children. Buckley’s overboiling emotion comes to the fore in an excellent turn that lands multiple punches. The biggest of which sees co-writer (alongside Maggie O’Farrell) and director Chloé Zhao use silence as extended and pronounced as Buckley’s traumatised scream that breaks it up.

After spending time seeing Will and Agnes’ relationship form and develop into a family over the years, once the most emotional course starts to be defined the film as a whole is better established and in turn more compelling. It allows for the subtleties in the performances, particularly Buckley’s quietly commanding turn, to land even more of an effect in just how personally rooted the characters are in everything that happens. The effect and communicative abilities of art is quietly explored through the lens of the couple’s reactions, and interactions, with it. Framed with equal strength from the various visual elements at play. It makes for the extended finale to surround you in the emotions on display – and translate the dialogue of Hamlet in multiple ways at once without having to change the words.

Emotions in Hamnet are given time and space, both to swell and be unfurled, and in the end confronted and experienced. Throughout the film is quietly engaging, and for a good while throughout and afterwards I couldn’t quite put my finger on why that was the case, but perhaps it is because of the emotions dwelling within the characters, hidden in the performances whilst going largely unspoken between the couple – although starting to overflow rather than leak out. There are many moments throughout which deliver an impactful punch, especially in the perfectly involved performances in the finale.

A film led by its overflowing emotions, with a brilliantly affecting conclusion, while gradually establishing itself Hamnet’s strong central performances shine.

Release Date – 5th December 2025, Cert – TBC, Run-time – 1 hour 57 minutes, Directors – Laura Poitras, Mark Obenhaus

Documentary looking at the work of political journalist Seymour Hersh, who uncovered and reported on some of the biggest cover-ups and exposés of the last 60 years.

Seymour Hersh appears to want to focus on his work more than anything else, even then he’s somewhat hesitant. “It’s hard to know who to trust. I barely trust you guys” he tells directors Laura Poitras and Mark Obenhaus, and in turn their cameras. Hersh has spent his life working on some of the biggest, most shocking, exposés of modern history. We see him still working today, communicating with sources over the phone about the war in Gaza. This insight into his continuing work and the ways in which he’s engaged are among the closest we get to the personal side of Hersh – “I was very happy not talking about myself” – who is still kept largely quiet as Cover-Up focuses on key stories from his life’s work.

Cover-Up isn’t quite a whistle-stop tour. We spend a good deal of time with only a handful of major uncoverings that Hersh was involved in, but there’s still a lot of ground covered meaning that things aren’t always as in-depth as they perhaps could be. That doesn’t mean there’s not a sense of shock at some of what the subject has been behind. Images and details from the Abu Ghraib tortures still provoke a sense of horror. Each story and the various elements that crop up within them creates interest, but I never found myself fully engaged over the near-two-hour run-time.

Perhaps that came from wanting to know a bit more about the man behind all of the discussed exposés, even if just seeing more of him at work and his thoughts whilst learning about what was happening. But, perhaps that’s wanting the film to be something it’s not. Especially, again, with Hersh seeming to intentionally put focus onto his work and being wary of the cameras and what he’s saying about himself.

The ways in which he talks about trust and the ways in which he communicates with people certainly bring something to the film and add a layer to the man and what he’s done throughout his career – Hersh is currently 88 and continues to fight through his reporting. A layer which certainly brings more to the interest in what the film covers, but also feels like something which could be explored just that bit more, even through the many details we hear about the various stories at hand. Again, perhaps I was wanting Cover-Up to be a different film to what it actually is, but it does feel as if it could have a bit more about the man that leads it to bring more engagement to his work.

While certainly interesting, especially when seeing work and communication in progress, Cover-Up’s look at the career of Seymour Hersh means that the man doesn’t always come through meaning that the documentary is more interesting than fully engaging.