Never fear – the biting social commentary and incendiary dialogue is still present and accounted for, but as Season 3 opens, it seems the students of Winchester are having trouble staying angry. Samantha (Logan Browning) isn’t helming the titular student radio show or turning up to black caucus, and is instead focussing on her filmmaking work. Reggie (Marque Richardson) is also too distracted byhis studies to attend caucus. Lionel (DeRon Horton) is learning about and forging his new identity rather than honing his investigative journalism skills, and even Coco (Ashley Blaine Featherson) has been distracted from her political aspirations because of her own personal fears and regrets. The situation is best exemplified by Al’s (Jemar Michael) attempts to get his fellow students to sign a petition in episode 1. Everyone’s too busy or, many cases, simply exhausted by the outrage of the week.

If the show is a microcosm of the life of many an activist, perhaps this represents the characters in middle age with their own kids and mortgage, too busy with work to march in the streets to fight for the rights of others.

Don’t get me wrong, there are still razor-sharp observations to be had – the best of which is a jab at ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ and its particular brand of white feminism; the most audacious of which is a self-referential criticism of third-season Netflix shows – but in many ways DWP is a shadow of its former self. To counter the disappointment, the characters are as interesting as ever, so although the season veers towards becoming a soapie, it’s still intelligent and fiercely intersectional.

I do wonder if this season was in the original planned outline for the show. The resolution to the shocking cliff-hanger from last season is dealt with in a perfunctory manner, and a couple of sub-plots are put on hold with the suggestion that the fourth, and final, season will pick them up next year.

As always, the show looks stunning. The cinematography is great, and the costuming and lighting has to be amongst the best currently on TV.

I wouldn’t say that Dear White People is running on fumes now, rather that it’s strange to see a more relaxed season. Gone is the urgency, the passion and the rage. Instead, we delve further into the personal lives of the characters. The self-referential jabs suggest this is all part of the plan, but I’d be lying if I said this season was just as compelling as the first two.

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The central character is Michael Stone, a customer service guru who’s in Cincinnati for a day to deliver a speech. Michael’s clearly dissatisfied with his life, commuting like he’s sleepwalking, and he desperately wants to connect with someone other than the bland people around him. Whilst staying in a ritzy yet dull hotel, he meets someone who might just change his life.

Anomalisa was created with possibly the best stop motion animation I’ve ever seen. The character’s faces were created using 3D printers, and whilst their features are deliberately segmented, the film – incredibly – avoids the slightly disturbing appearance that I usually associate with stop motion attempts at realistic human characters. Part of the reason it worked for me is that their ‘skin’ has a uniform texture. Secondly, the filming technique involves a super-mobile camera, so that there are some wonderfully cinematic shots.

David Thewlis plays Michael, Jennifer Jason Leigh plays Lisa whilst Tom Noonan plays…everyone else. A lot of the film conjures up images of the ‘Malkovich Malkovich’ scene from Being John Malkovich, and I suppose it’s true that Kaufman isn’t really exploring new territory with Anomalisa. The fact that the men, women and children that Michael comes into contact with all sound the same means that his disconnection from the world is much more than simply metaphorical.

Michael’s not a particularly nice person. He’s unhappy in his marriage and publishing a best-seller apparently holds no meaning for him anymore. He does quite a few questionable things throughout the film, but I could never bring myself to hate him. I don’t want to sugar-coat it though: some viewers will dislike him, and not sympathising with a film’s main character is always problematic.

Anomalisa never gets that weird. I’ve generally found Kaufman’s films to be exercises in restraint. He doesn’t go for batshit insane all that often, instead writing about worlds that are only a step or two away from the reality with which we’re familiar. This may mean that Anomalisa doesn’t hit the spot for those craving something completely out there.

I thoroughly enjoyed this, though can’t imagine rushing out to watch it again. It’s at times hilarious, awkward and freaky, but consistently genuine. I’d love to see more animations using this same technique too…

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I hadn’t read Gillian Flynn’s bestselling novel, so I had no idea of the surprises in store when I sat down to watch David Fincher’s latest offering. Suffice to say that the film did not end up where I expected.

Nick’s wife, Amy, goes missing in mysterious circumstances. Very quickly, suspicion is directed at Nick himself. Did he murder her or did he not? It’s a simple premise, and the film starts out following Nick’s movements as first the police then the media get involved.

Fincher brings his usual cinematic style to proceedings. Even with the least impressive of Fincher’s films (step forward, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button), you know it’s going to look good. Here, together with his regular cinematographer, Jeff Cronenweth, he makes dull suburbia look beautiful. Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross are present on scoring duties for the third time although – like The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo – I don’t think the music would make for very interesting listening on its own.

Affleck delivers a fine performance in a role that demands our sympathies yet always leaves room for lingering doubt. We feel for this man and the predicament he’s in, but we can’t shake the nagging suspicion that he’s lying to us.

But it’s the supporting cast that really make this film something special. Flynn has written an astounding variety of roles for women, and it’s amazing – and depressing – just how refreshing an experience a Hollywood movie can be when the majority of the cast isn’t male. First and foremost is Carrie Coon as Nick’s twin sister, Margo. Most definitely The Next Big Thing, I immediately fell in love with her character, someone who was prepared to stick by Nick no matter what. Then there’s Kim Dickens, who first came to my attention from her work in ‘Deadwood’. She plays Detective Rhonda Boney with brilliant screen presence. She’s up there with Frances McDormand’s Marge Gunderson in terms of Hollywood’s best female cops. Tyler Perry continues to pick up sporadic work outside of his own films and TV series, and his presence in Gone Girl brings some warmth and humour to proceedings, whilst Neil Patrick Harris has a lot of fun playing, well…creepy.

Then there’s Rosamund Pike as the missing Amy. She’s always puts in a good performance, but it’s her character I had the biggest problem with. There are no spoilers here, but suffice to say that the film goes in some unexpected directions, and some plot developments are a little hard to swallow.

The thing is, Gone Girl starts out as a deadly serious mystery/thriller. But then spends a lot of its second half trying to defy classification. Is it a comedy? A satire? A horror film? To be honest, I’m not sure. And as a consequence, I left the cinema feeling quite uneasy. Thinking about it now, part of me considers the film to be a masterpiece, another thinks that it’s a ridiculously unbelievable tale that not only defies logic, but makes claims that aren’t supported by the narrative. Abrupt changes in tone worked for me in Red State, but here I felt cheated.

This is certainly Fincher’s most challenging film since Fight Club. It may be super-long, but the time whizzes by, and there are half a dozen brilliant performances. It’s just kind of unsatisfying. And maybe that’s the point.

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Set in the near future, when the world has succumbed to a new ice age, Snowpiercer tells the story of the few survivors who live on a perpetually moving train. The train is, of course, massive, with a clear division amongst the passengers. All the rich people live up the front, whilst the poorer folk are squashed in the back carriages like cattle. Curtis (Chris Evans) takes it upon himself to start a revolution, and is determined to make it to the head of the train.

As high concept sci-fi goes, this is a wonderful premise. Sure, the social commentary about the gulf between rich and poor is rather blunt (as it was with Elysium, and less so with The Hunger Games), but it doesn’t threaten to overwhelm the narrative.

If you’ve seen The Host (Gwoemul), then you know what kind of tonal variety to expect. Just when you think that Snowpiercer has settled into a Hollywood action movie rhythm, up pops some slapstick humour. Then wham, suddenly it’s turned into a bloody horror film. The film is often reminiscent of the work of Terry Gilliam, specifically Brazil, and I’m sure it will be that little bit too weird for some.

The trick is to not go in expecting any one type of movie. It might have Chris Evans playing it straight as the film’s handsome hero, but it also boasts Tilda Swinton looking like she’s popped out of a pantomime. You have Luke Pasqualino from ‘Skins’ as a kick-arse muscle-bound action hero, but then you have Alison Pill playing a teacher who appears to have dropped out of The Stepford Wives.

It’s great to see a film so reliant on practical sets, even if said sets get reused in different contexts. There’s something wonderfully tactile about the film, though the just-good-enough visual effects don’t do much in its favour.

Part gritty post-apocalyptic drama, part ridiculous farce, Snowpiercer is difficult to define. It’s a more consistent film than The Host, which had a boring middle section, and it’s got a fantastic international cast. The film comes highly recommended, with the proviso that it will surprise and bemuse you more than once.

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Somewhat understandably, the film doesn’t determine that such a ridiculous premise should be treated seriously, and thus Rubber is extraordinarily self-referential, telling us more than once quite frankly that the narrative simply makes no sense. This postmodern approach has its pros and cons, and at first I couldn’t really decide if it made the film better or worse. It is cool that Rubber tells its story in an unconventional manner, but it also of course prevents us from getting truly involved with the characters. It encourages us to witness proceedings in a very detached manner.

Rubber is beautifully made, and Quentin Dupieux – who wrote, directed, edited, was the cinematographer and contributed to the music – clearly has an incredibly cinematic eye. The cinematography is stunning, and it’s a pity that it was all in aid of such a… barren film. I’d love to see what he could do as a hired gun, actually working on a genre piece written by somebody else, because it could be fantastic.

Dupieux, who has a musical career under the pseudonym “Mr Oizo”, has also been very clever and giving the antagonistic tyre life. More than once I found myself wondering just how they managed to make the tyre appear to move of its own volition. I’m sure there are some very simple techniques behind it, but rest assured that it’s quite impressive, and shows just how blinkered I’ve become since the rise of computer effects.

Rubber is entertaining, especially for those craving something truly different. As a one-off piece of oddball cinema, it hits the spot. There’s nothing quite like seeing a tyre so offended by the presence of a nearby rabbit that it vibrates until the rabbit explodes. It’s a pity, though, that the absurdity precludes any chance of the audience feeling for the characters, or indeed investing any emotion whatsoever in the film.

If Dupieux hadn’t drawn attention to the ludicrousness of the concept, the film might have been better off for it. As it stands, the film kind of feels like it’s laughing at it’s own joke, which really detracts from the experience.

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Dogtooth basically chronicles several weeks/days/months (it’s impossible to tell) in the life of a really screwed up family. The parents never let their three grown children outside the property, constantly get them to compete with one another and teach them the incorrect meaning of words. When her son asks them what a zombie is, Mother explains that it’s a type of flower. When a cat enters their property, Father explains that these are one of the most lethal predators known to man, and would tear you to pieces if given half a chance. Oh, and to top it all off, Father regularly pays a co-worker of his to come to the house to have sex with his son.

It’s child abuse, basically. But it’s so bizarre that the audience doesn’t quite know how to react. At first it’s funny. Hilarious at times, like in the opening scene when the three siblings discuss the logistics of a competition in which they hold their hands under running hot water as long as they can. It’s eerie in other moments, as when one daughter uses a medical textbook to examine her sister, and flat out horrifying when the kids act under their own misguided initiative to fix the problems with which they are faced.

Dogtooth is quite impossible to pin down. It doesn’t seem to be purely farcical and if the film has an agenda then it’s hidden deep within the borderline psychotic behaviour on display. It doesn’t feel wrong for good reason, as with much of Todd Solondz’s work, yet isn’t comical enough to be classed as an absurd comedy.

This could be seen as a good thing, however you’d have to be in the right frame of mind to enjoy it. I can’t imagine why I would ever recommend this to anyone, but at the same time it’s weirdly involving. The performances are stunning, particularly from the younger cast members. The innocent, confused puppy-dog expression of Younger Daughter (of course, no one has a name) is so incredibly perfect that you simply couldn’t imagine this actress as a normal, functioning member of society. The parents are good, too, though the script never lets on to their objectives (if they have any) – they simply do what they do.

If you’re up a strange, powerful film, then Dogtooth fits the bill. Its off kilter-scenarios and strangely placid pacing make for a compelling if emotionally sterile feature.

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Yolande Moreau is Louise, a middle-aged factory worker whose factory has just been closed around her. Not especially bright – in fact it’s often hard to know if she’s intellectually impaired – she and her workmates come up with a revenge plot that relies on the dubious skills of a hired ‘security consultant’ (Bouli Lanners as Michel). Louise and Michel’s quest will provide more than one surprise for each of them.

There are strong strands of farce intermingled with a more subtle humour that make Louise-Michel an enjoyable romp,along with several moments of outright absurdity in which the audience will laugh out loud. A further component of black comedy may be off-putting for some, and it is perhaps only in its latter stages that the level of discomfort outweighs the pleasurable comedy of the earlier film.

Louise-Michel relies heavily on the performances of Moreau and Lanners, and Lanners is particularly good in the early sequences in which his character demonstrates his ‘credentials’. His skill at physical comedy is evident in these scenes, and allows his character to be far more accessible to the audience than that of Louise. Moreau makes Louise amusing, if a little hard to actually like – she is far more withdrawn, and in some scenes Moreau simply can’t make her sympathetic enough for the audience to get behind.

It is in the third act that the film loses much of its good will, becoming a far darker experience full of absent-minded brutality. One scene in particular – more hinted at via audio of events occurring off-screen – borders on offensive, and the fine balance that must be maintained for characters of this type is lost. This is an unfortunate waste of the potential on view in the first two-thirds of the film.

At just 90 minutes, the film feels too long and one wonders whether the removal of several scenes may have allowed for a more successful experience. As it stands, however, Louise-Michel overstays its welcome in spite of its strong performances, and ends up simply disappointing.

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