Cineworld

The Invite

06/07/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Married couple Joe (Seth Rogen) and Angela (Olivia Wilde) are locked in a beautifully-gilded cage of an apartment, inherited from his parents. They’re both desperately miserable, but they don’t know how to break free, trapped by social convention and their own inertia. The couple who’ve moved in upstairs, Pina (Penélope Cruz) and Hawk (Edward Norton), are their polar opposites: lively, curious, fresh and uninhibited. So when Angela invites their new neighbours down for drinks, the scene is set for a perfect storm.

Directed by Wilde, with a snappy screenplay by Will McCormack and Rashida Jones, The Invite is a tragicomedy of manners, at times laugh-out-loud funny but also moving and profound. Joe and Angela’s unhappiness is so horribly ordinary; exhausted by disappointment, they blame each other for their broken dreams, unable to break free from the prison they’ve created. Pina is a sex therapist and that’s the function her character performs: Pina and Hawk’s vibrant, overtly sexual relationship shining an unforgiving light on Joe and Angela’s marriage, prompting the joyless couple to examine their feelings and acknowledge that they cannot carry on. The laughs come in the form of toe-curling awkwardness and physical ineptitude, the clash between fantasy and reality. But we’re never allowed to forget that these are real people, their humiliations causing real pain.

A remake of the Cesc Gay’s 2020 Spanish film, The People Upstairs, this is something of a triumph, Wilde perfectly encapsulating the claustrophobic atmosphere of a failing marriage. Although Joe and Angela’s apartment is twice the size of Hawk and Pina’s, their world is so much smaller, the four walls constraining them. We can feel this in the direction, the actors seemingly too big for the space, unable to move without knocking things over and breaking them.

The four actors work well together. None of the characters is especially likeable, but they’re all sympathetically drawn and we want a happy ending for them. Rogen is effortlessly funny, eliciting most of the laughs with his gloomy defeatism and misplaced anger, while Norton somehow manages to imbue the world’s smuggest, most annoying man with enough humanity to save him. Cruz is so charming that Pina’s sharpness becomes an attribute, while Wilde’s quiet desperation is genuinely painful.

This is Wilde’s third feature as a director. I loved her 2019 debut, Booksmart, and also found a lot to admire in 2022’s Don’t Worry, Darling, although the latter was perhaps a little muddled. The Invite is her most sophisticated to date, and I’m already keen to see where she goes next.

4.7 stars

Susan Singfield

Virginia Woolf’s Night & Day

22/06/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Despite the prominence of the famous name in the title, Justine Waddell’s movie adaptation of Night & Day bears only a passing resemblance to Virginia Woolf’s 1919 novel, stripping away a lot of the author’s thorny political nuance in favour of a lighter, more straightforward feminism.

Kit Hilbery (Haley Bennett) rails against the confines of her class and gender. Her parents (Jennifer Saunders and Timothy Spall) want her to marry her childhood friend, the affable William Rodney (Jack Whitehall), but Kit – an aspiring astronomer – has other plans. She wants to go to Cambridge. Okay, so women aren’t actually allowed to study at the men’s college she’s applied to, nor permitted to join the Royal Astronomical Society, but Kit’s nothing if not determined. Someone has to be the first, right?

Kit isn’t alone in her fight against the old order. Her gay cousin, Cy (Misia Butler), has his own battles to face, and her new pal, Mary Datchet (Lily Allen), is an active member of the Suffragette Society, working full-time to change the world.

And, of course, there’s always a bit of romance to complicate things. Kit doesn’t fancy her fiancé, William, but there’s more than a spark between her and Ralph Denham (Elyas M’Barek), the lower-class radical hired to edit her mother’s sprawling book. But why shouldn’t Kit strive for emotional fulfilment as well as intellectual? After all, she’s used to reaching for the stars…

Directed by Tina Ghavari, the setting is vividly realised, and Bennett gives a spirited performance in the central role, imbuing Kit with an earnest vulnerability that ensures we’re on her side. Whitehall also acquits himself well (I guess ‘congenial toff’ isn’t much of a stretch for him), but it’s Butler’s brittle façade that gives the film its emotional depth.

I’m less keen on the (presumably deliberate) anachronism in Datchet’s presentation: Allen’s costume and hair are in line with current fashion, in contrast to the Edwardian garb worn by the other characters. What’s more, we never get to know anything about her or her politics, beyond the fact that she thinks women should have the vote and prints pamphlets saying so. Still, Datchet is positively well-developed compared to Kit’s Aunt Celia (Elizabeth Edmonds) and Cousin Joan (Sally Phillips), two fine actors whose talent is entirely wasted in these pointless roles.

Despite it’s style and elegance, Night & Day is something of a mixed bag: not funny enough for a comedy, not political enough for a polemic and not romantic enough for a love story. It’s an entertaining watch that doesn’t quite cohere.

3.4 stars

Susan Singfield

Hamlet

08/02/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

I’m a sucker for a modern interpretation of Shakespeare, illuminating the continued relevance of his themes. I’m also a menopausal woman who needs to pee quite frequently, so when I read that Aneil Karia’s Hamlet has a tight sub-two-hour running time, I’m sold. I might actually be able to sit through the whole film!

London, 2025. Hamlet (Riz Ahmed) is devastated by the death of his father (Avijit Dutt), the mega-rich owner of a controversial construction company, Elsinore. Numb with grief, the young heir is horrified when his mother (Sheeba Chaddha) announces she plans to remarry without delay – taking Old Hamlet’s brother, Claudius (Art Malik), as her new husband.

As if things weren’t difficult enough, Hamlet soon has a lot more to deal with, when his father’s ghost appears before him, accusing Claudius of killing him and urging his son to seek revenge. True to Shakespearean form, Hamlet devises a convoluted scheme to prove his uncle’s guilt. He’ll pretend to be mad, verbally abuse his girlfriend, and interrupt his mum’s wedding with a play that shows the groom committing murder. What could possibly go wrong?

In this version, Hamlet and his family are British Indians, and we’re in England, not Denmark. In my favourite change to the original, Fortinbras is no longer the defeated King of Norway, but instead the name of a collective of homeless people, who’ve been displaced by Old Hamlet’s cruel business practices. Here, Hamlet’s madness is not just a reaction to his own situation, but a response to the belated realisation that his family’s wealth comes from theft and exploitation. His struggle, in the end, is to restore social justice, as well as to avenge his dad.

There’s a lot to like about this film. It’s exciting and propulsive, stripping Hamlet down to its most interesting parts, while retaining enough soul-searching to make us understand the young protagonist’s despair. I love the depiction of the players’ performing Old Hamlet’s murder, and the famous soliloquy (“To be or not to be…”) is utterly thrilling, as Hamlet – driving through London’s busy night-time streets – floors the accelerator and takes his hands off the steering wheel…

I’m not sure that the omission of Horatio works particularly well: the contrasting counsel of Horatio and Laertes (Joe Alwyn) adds an interesting dimension to the play that is lacking here. I also think that, in a contemporary adaptation such as this, Ophelia (Morfydd Clark) could be given more to do. On the other hand, I like the subtle changes to Gertrude’s character, cleverly rendering her innocent of any crime while also giving her more agency. Chaddha’s performance is nuanced and convincing – and Timothy Spall was surely born to play Polonius.

But this is Riz Ahmed’s film, and he’s as fine a Hamlet as I’ve ever seen: a flawed young man tormented by grief and guilt, behaving badly and impulsively, hurtling towards his own demise. It’s a tale as old as, well, four hundred years. And still it endures.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Is This Thing On?

31/01/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

A man walks into a bar…

Except, it’s not just a bar, it’s a comedy club – and there’s a $15 entrance fee.

Unless you’re there to perform.

It’s been a long and messy night, and Alex Novak (Will Arnett) doesn’t have $15 to hand. But, high on alcohol and edibles, he’s sure his gift of the gab will be enough to get him through a ten-minute open mic spot. Sure enough, although he doesn’t exactly crush it, he does earn a few laughs, and he finds the experience surprisingly therapeutic.

And therapy is just what Alex needs. Recently separated from his wife, Tess (Laura Dern), he’s struggling to cope with living alone in his apartment and being a part-time dad. What’s more, everyone seems convinced that he’s to blame for his marriage breaking down, which he doesn’t think is fair at all. He and Tess have simply grown apart; they’ve split by mutual consent. With friends and family making their disapproval known, the comedy circuit feels like a safe space for Alex to meet people and grapple with his new reality.

Is This Thing On?, directed by Bradley Cooper, is loosely based on the life of British comedian, John Bishop, although the only overt reference to the Merseyside comic is a single scene where Alex sports an incongruous Liverpool FC vest. In his mid-30s, Bishop tried his hand at stand-up while briefly separated from his wife, Melanie; by the time they reconciled, he’d caught the comedy bug and, within a few years, was pursuing a fruitful career as a full-time comic.

Ironically, Bishop’s real-life story is more interesting than the Hollywood version, which is resolutely low-key, and never actually shows us Novak performing a killer gig. In reality, Bishop is hugely successful: he’s a household name in the UK, and his arena tours always sell out. Although Arnett and Dern both perform their roles with consummate skill, there never appears to be much at stake. It would help if we saw Novak’s sets improve, if we could catch a glimpse of the comedic skill that has propelled Bishop into the spotlight.

In addition, the script (co-written by Cooper, Arnett and Mark Chappell) doesn’t flesh out the characters enough: they don’t appear to have lives beyond the scenes we see. We’re told that Novak “works in finance” but we never see the impact of his late-night hobby on his day-job; in fact, he never refers to work at all. He’s a friendly, outgoing character: surely he’d have friends among his colleagues? And the juggling of a demanding job, fatherhood and an all-consuming new passion would make his struggle a lot more compelling.

All in all, this is an enjoyable movie, but not an entirely satisfying one.

3.6 stars

Susan Singfield

Left-Handed Girl

11/01/26

Netflix

I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself this Sunday afternoon: I didn’t sleep well last night, I’ve got a cold and the temperature outside is bloody freezing. We’d planned a long walk but I’m not up for it. Is there anything good on Netflix that we haven’t seen?

Philip’s right on it: yes, there is. He’s just been reading about Left-Handed Girl, written by Shih-Ching Tsou and Sean Baker (the latter a firm favourite of ours), which has not only created a buzz at Cannes, but has also been chosen as Taiwan’s Oscar entry. Apparently, the long-time collaborators penned the script way back in 2010 but it’s taken until now for director Tsou to secure the financing for her debut feature. However frustrating that must have been for her, it’s certainly worth the wait. Because Left-Handed Girl is a triumph.

The film follows the travails of the Cheng family as they return to the bustling capital of Taipei after several years living in the Taiwanese countryside. Single mum Shu-Fen (Janel Tsai) is struggling financially, and she’s hoping to get back on track by opening a noodle stall in the city’s famous night market.

Her teenage daughter, I-Ann (Shih-Yuan Ma) is moody and miserable. She’s left school to work at a betel nut stall, where she’s shagging the boss with the same lack of enthusiasm she brings to her job. Something’s troubling her, and the mystery only deepens when she bumps into an old classmate, who expresses surprise that the former straight-A student is not at university…

Meanwhile, Shu-Fen’s youngest daughter, the titular five-year-old southpaw, I-Jing (Nina Ye), is settling happily into her new life, charming the market traders as she smiles and dances through the stalls. She hasn’t a care in the world – until her granddad (Akio Chen) admonishes her for using her left hand to draw. “It’s the devil’s hand,” he tells her, as she stares in awe at the offending appendage. Although the superstitious old man’s intention is to get I-Jing to start using her right hand, his plan has unforetold consequences as, unwittingly, he has given her a pass to be naughty. “It’s not me,” she tells herself as she steals a trinket from a shop, “I can’t help it; it’s my devil hand.”

Cinematographers Ko-Chin Chen and Tzu-Hao Kao shot the entire movie on iPhones, which lends the piece a convincing veritas, thanks to the agility and immediacy of the footage. We see the market from I-Jing’s point of view, eye-level with the traders’ tables as we run with her between the stalls, ducking through the crowds. We ride with I-Ann on her scooter, hair streaming in the night air, precious minutes of freedom between her household duties and her boss’s demands. Taipei comes to life on screen, a kaleidoscopic riot of colour and sound.

Under Tsou’s direction, this collection of moments slowly takes shape. We learn to care for not only the three main characters, but also those on the periphery, such as Johnny (Brando Huang), the kindly trader with the stall next-door to Shu-Fen’s. These are people on the edges of society, only barely getting by, but they are all afforded their dignity. And, as the various vignettes coalesce, a story emerges – with a pretty explosive denouement.

Film-wise, 2026 has started off in great style, with Left-Handed Girl our third five-star cinematic experience in just eleven days. Long may it continue!

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Hamnet

10/01/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

There is a tide in the affairs of [wo]men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune – and the confluence of Maggie O’Farrell, Chloé Zhao and Jessie Buckley exemplifies this theory. All three are at the pinnacles of their respective professions and their combined talents make for a flawless film. Hamnet is artfully crafted and beautifully realised, a privilege to watch.

Adapted by O’Farrell and Zhao from the former’s critically-acclaimed novel, Hamnet stars Jessie Buckley as Agnes, more commonly known as Anne Hathaway or, let’s be honest, “Shakespeare’s wife”. Here, she is reimagined as a kind of woman-of-the-woods, her deep connection to nature a central tenet of her character. Her nephews’ Latin tutor, William (Paul Mescal), is beguiled by her, and – before long – they are pledging their commitment to one another in a secret ‘hand-fasting’ ceremony. Their families are horrified when Agnes falls pregnant, and only reluctantly agree to making their marriage official.

Agnes and William don’t care: they are deeply in love and adore their three children, Susannah (Bodhi Rae Breathnach), Judith (Olivia Lynes) and Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe). But that doesn’t mean it’s all plain sailing. While William can’t bear the confines of country life, Agnes knows she couldn’t survive in the city, away from the natural world. William doesn’t want to become a glove-maker like his father; he’s driven: he needs to write, to tell stories, to make his mark in the capital. Agnes realises there’s only one option, and tells him to go, to seek his fortune on the London stage, while she and the children remain in Stratford.

And so William departs for a double life with his wife’s blessing, at once successful playwright and loving family man. Meanwhile, Agnes grows ever more concerned about Judith’s health, fretting over her premonition that she will have only two children when she dies. And when calamity comes, she has to deal with it alone…

Readers often worry about movie adaptations of their favourite books, but I don’t think anyone needs to be concerned about this one. With O’Farrell on board as co-writer, the screenplay complements the novel perfectly. Buckley is magnetic, the intensity of her performance drawing us deep into her heartbreak and recovery, turning Agnes into a living, breathing woman instead of a mere footnote in her husband’s history, a cast-aside irrelevance, mother of his children but inheritor only of his “second best bed”. Mescal is also well-cast as William, torn between his vocation and his love for Agnes, turning his own anguish into a dramatic memorial to his lost child.

Under Zhao’s direction, Hamnet moves at a dreamy pace, yet never feels slow or dull. Lukasz Zal’s cinematography captures the symbolic importance of the forest, both to Agnes and – by extension – Shakespeare’s plays, where it is a place of magic and transformation, simultaneously dangerous and healing. The colour palette emphasises Agnes’s singularity, her red dresses distinctive in a sea of brown and green and grey. In her own way, she is every bit as extraordinary as William.

The three children play their parts well, and props to Nina Gold for casting Jupe’s real-life brother Noah as Hamnet’s fictional counterpart in the original Globe Theatre production of Hamlet. Their likeness adds to the cathartic effect of the performance, underscoring Agnes’s realisation that this is William’s theatrical expression of his grief. This final section is also a hymn to the shared experience of live theatre, the way plays can touch their audiences made literal as Agnes reaches for the hand of the young actor so reminiscent of her son, inspiring those around her to do the same.

Flawless from start to finish, Hamnet is an unmissable film, fully deserving of its Oscar nominations, and certainly worth a trip to the cinema to see it on the big screen.

5 stars

Susan Singfield

Wicked: For Good

06/12/25

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Despite being dazzling, bold and unashamedly in-your-face, Wicked: For Good somehow manages to fall flat. Perhaps the problem lies in the year-long gap between the two parts of this story; it’s like a glass of champagne that’s been left out too long and lost its fizz.

That said, in many ways I prefer this second act (which I’m refusing to call a sequel, because it isn’t: the story arc spans both films, and neither stands alone). At least there’s a resolution here, and I enjoy the creative ways the storyline feeds into The Wizard of Oz. Narratively, For Good – directed by Jon M Chu – is stronger than Wicked, but as a musical? I’m no aficionado, but even I can tell there’s only one real banger in this show (Defying Gravity), and it isn’t reprised here. As a result, the big song and dance numbers, even with Christopher Scott’s sumptuous choreography and the cast’s impressive vocals, just aren’t very memorable.

We catch up with Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) and Glinda (Ariana Grande-Butera) after their erstwhile friendship has been well and truly shattered by the Wizard (Jeff Goldblum) and Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh). Neither young woman is exactly happy about the way the duo uses propaganda and misinformation to control the citizens of Oz but, while Glinda opts for a pragmatic, ‘if-you-can’t-beat-’em-join-’em’ approach, Elphaba favours revolution, exposing the truth at any cost. Each feels betrayed by the other…

The two leads are magnificent: perfectly cast and with crackling on-screen chemistry. Their combined talent is beyond formidable, and the strongest scenes are those where they’re together. But they’re let down by a histrionic script (by Winnie Holzman, Dana Fox and Gregory Maguire), where emotions are always dialled up to eleven, and unrequited love is enough of an excuse to destroy a realm. It’s all very teenage – and all very one-note. Nessa (Marissa Bode) fares especially badly, her death-by-Kansas-farmhouse so fudged that you wouldn’t know what had happened if you weren’t familiar with the tale.

There’s plenty to admire here: the production values are second-to-none, and the world-building is exquisite. I just think that it would have been better to make one excellent three-hour film rather than two quite good ones, whose combined five hours add up to less than the sum of their parts.

If you’ve already seen Wicked, then you’ll need to watch For Good to see how it all turns out. It’s not dreadful (there are certainly worse ways to spend a winter afternoon). But is it worth all the money and the hype? You’ll have to decide for yourself if you want to follow the yellow brick road back to Oz.

3.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Baba

02/11/25

George Street, Edinburgh

We’re dubbing today the ‘Double-B’ – we’ve just been to Cineworld to see Bugonia and now we’re in Baba, keen to sate our hunger while we chat about the film.

Baba has been on our radar for a while. It’s part of the Scoop group, which also boasts the excellent Ox and Finch and – our favourite – Ka Pao. Like these, Baba is a fusion restaurant, this one blending Levantine cuisine with distinctly Scottish ingredients. The menu is very enticing.

After some deliberation, I decide to start with buffalo mozzarella. A generous portion of creamy cheese arrives, topped with sour cherries, harissa and basil, a flavour combo which comes as something of a revelation. It’s delectable. It’s served with pitta as standard but, as I’m in the process of working out if I have a gluten intolerance, I ask for the NGCI alternative. This takes the form of a paper bag filled with two charred slices of GF bread, which complement the mozzarella perfectly.

Philip opts for pan-fried cod cheeks, which come with prawns, merguez, butterbeans and toasted pitta. The dish as a whole is excellent, but it’s the prawns that stand out. They’re huge and wonderfully flavoured.

For our main, we decide to share a Baba mixed grill, comprising slow-cooked lamb shoulder, pork neck, chicken thigh and grilled veg, accompanied with harissa, zhug, tahini and herbs. It’s a simple dish, but the meat is tender and very well cooked, and we enjoy it immensely. We also have a side of blackened sweet potato, elevated by a mixture of saffron crème fraîche and harissa, which I’m planning to try to recreate at home.

Naturally we both want pudding. I have a dark chocolate and tahini crémeux, wiith sesame tuilles and my second helping of both cherries and crème fraîche, while Philip has a tahini cookie, with peanut praline, orange and chantilly cream. Both deliver the lip-smacking sweetness we’re craving, and we scrape our plates clean.

We leave the restaurant feeling pleasantly full, and head out into the November evening, debating whether or not to call at the Filmhouse bar for a (non-alcoholic) nightcap to round things off. Of course the answer is yes. After all, we’ve still got loads to discuss about the film, and what better place to do it?

4.4 stars

Susan Singfield

I Swear

10/10/25

Cineworld, Edinburgh

I Swear follows a tried and tested feel-good formula. You know the one: a vulnerable protagonist struggles to live with a misunderstood condition until their saviour arrives in the shape of a kind and unassuming friend, allowing them to flourish. So far, so seen-it-all-before. But writer-director Kirk Jones gives the format a kick in the baws with this tale of grit and humour in the face of great adversity.

The film is elevated by two things: an extraordinary true-life story and a stellar cast. The central character is John Davidson, an MBE-decorated Scottish activist, who lives with Tourette syndrome and campaigns to raise public awareness. Played here by Scott Ellis Watson (as a teenager) and Robert Aramayo (as an adult), he lights up the screen, his frustration and sadness leavened by his innate sweetness – and the undeniable funniness of his inappropriate comments and sweary outbursts. “I’m a paedophile,” he says at a caretaking job interview, when informed that the role includes setting up a hall for youth groups to use. The same prospective employer asks him about his tea-making skills. “I’m good,” John assures him, “I use spunk for milk.”

Despite the jocularity, Jones’ screenplay never mocks John, never laughs at him or belittles what he has to deal with every day. Instead, it’s an honest account of a young man floundering in a hostile world, rescued from despair by finding acceptance. John’s protector is his pal’s mum, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse with a terminal cancer diagnosis, who takes John in. While his own mum, Heather (Shirley Henderson), is uptight and puritanical, embarrassed by his language, making him sit apart from the family to eat because of his tendency to spit, Dottie ignores his tics and profanity, welcoming him at her kitchen table, telling him not to apologise for things he can’t help. She encourages him to see a future for himself: one where he can hold down a job and live independently.

Another positive influence in John’s life is his janitor boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), who champions his young assistant, serving as both mentor and father figure. It’s Tommy who tells John he needs to raise awareness of his syndrome: “The problem isn’t Tourette’s; it’s people not knowing about Tourette’s.” It’s Tommy who stands up for John in court, when the judge seems ready to penalise him for contempt, unable to accept that his shouting is involuntary.

At the end of the movie, we see the real-life John, a familiar figure to those of us old enough to remember the 1989 BBC documentary, John’s Not Mad, which featured the sixteen-year-old Davidson. I’m a little confused as to why this influential TV programme is never mentioned in the film, as it must have made him something of a local celebrity and changed the way he was perceived. Still, he’s been spreading the word ever since, organising conventions, giving presentations to school kids and police officers, making sure that everyone knows about Tourette syndrome. We’ve no excuse for condemning those living with it to the years of misery John himself endured.

Engaging, enraging and hilarious, I Swear is something of a triumph.

As John himself might say, “Fuck off to the cinema and watch it, ya wankers.”

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

A Big Bold Beautiful Journey

20/09/25

Cineworld, Edinburgh

I’ve never been a rom-com fan: too cynical for ‘rom’ and unamused by mawkish ‘com’. But – schmaltzy subtext notwithstanding – when it’s served up as beguilingly as this, you can count me in.

A Big Bold Beautiful Journey is a fantastical drama about a mundane situation. David (Colin Farrell) rents a car to travel to a friend’s wedding, where he meets Sarah (Margot Robbie). Their instant attraction is scuppered by the fact that they’re both commitment-phobes. So far, so ordinary. Luckily – for both audience and characters – David’s sat-nav has a mind of its own and, before long, their separate drives home have become a joint road-trip down Memory Lane towards Promising Future. Via magical doors.

Written by Seth Reiss and directed by Kogonada, ABBBJ adds up to more than the sum of its parts. It doesn’t hurt that the two leads are so likeable, nor that the cinematography (by Benjamin Loeb) is so vivid and picturesque. As the duo step through the various portals to the past, we are treated to some real visual delights: the art gallery Sarah used to visit after-hours with her mum, enraptured by her favourite painting of a grey couple with rainbow heads; the re-enactment of the high-school musical where David had the lead.

There’s some pleasingly quirky book-ending too, with Kevin Kline and Phoebe Waller-Bridge as the mysterious car rental company’s mechanic and cashier (respectively). These benign puppet masters have seemingly orchestrated both the meet-cute and its subsequent developments, their mystical business more about love than motor vehicles.

Is this enough to counteract the sentimental ‘open your heart’ messaging? Just about. More variety would help: the final third feels samey and repetitive and, without the thrill of inventiveness, the saccharine is just a little too cloying.

On the whole, however, I’m sold. This is an arch and idiosyncratic piece of cinema, quite unlike anything else at the multiplex this year.

3.7 stars

Susan Singfield