

How do you rate a film when you don’t understand it?
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As the first gorgeous black-and-white scenes unfolded, I thought I had stumbled into a documentary.
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I loved Babak Jalali’s Radio Dreams (2016), and he doesn’t disappoint with the tonally very different but just as meticulous Fremont.
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Satyajit Ray is a master of pared-back social drama that exposes the class and social structure of India.
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I find myself wanting to like South Korean auteur Hong Sangsoo’s work. Maybe I’m choosing the wrong ones out of his huge filmography as they seem whimsically pedestrian and self-absorbed, albeit in a way that’s meant to be charming.
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Cho Min-ho gives us a measured exploration of the Korean independence protests of the 20s that thoroughly engages with its focus on one women and her plight.
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Like a black and white Amelie (2001) without the whimsy, French director and graphic novelist Nine Antico’s first feature tracks the travails of hapless Sophie (Sara Forestier) as she searches for love.
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In carefully composed black and white imagery, we watch the Soviet propaganda machine go into overdrive to cover up 1960s labour strikes and a subsequent, ill-advised massacre.
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This was the first time at MIFF 68.5 that I really missed being in a cinema. Icelandic composer Jóhann Jóhannsson directs his only feature, bringing together three distinct and disparate components to create an emotional experience that cries out for sensory immersion.
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For its imagery alone, this bleak and beautiful drama by Ivan Ostrochovský is worth a look, although it’s love of an exquisitely composed frame distances you from the characters.
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