Told in three acts in reverse, Mike Flanagan has made a lovely little Stephen King adaptation about how Tom Hiddleston came to be an exceptional dancer who contains multitudes.

I suppose it’s kinda cool that the Hollywood’s hottest young stars now establish their acting cred by the rite of passage of playing gay on the big screen. At least Jacob Elordi and Daisy Edgar Jones avoid tragic weepy stereotypes in Daniel Minahan’s handsome literary take (an adaptation Shannon Pufahl’s 2019 novel) on queer identities in the 1950s American West.

Thought if anyone could make the smack-addled writings of William S Burrows romantic it would have to be Luca Guadagnino, but alas.

To its enormous credit and occasional detriment, Jacques Audiard’s improbable musical is as mercurial as its title drug kingpin-to-society queen would-be heroine. With something new every few minutes the boldly ambitious film succeeds in never being boring while it has an enormous amount to say (sing). 

A movie about a lost robot and a cynical loner fox raising an orphaned goose, plus the power of unlikely animal friendships? It’s as if this gorgeously animated marvel was built in a lab specifically to make me weep. Task accomplished, satisfaction rating 10/10.

At long last, someone is brave enough to answer the question of whether there is anything grosser than watching Dennis Quaid eat shrimp.

Amy Adams is phenomenal as an artist who set her career aside to raise an adorable child; she sells the madness of isolation as her identity attempts to reclaim itself with hallucinations (maybe) that she’s turning into a dog.