Hannah Strong

The film director creates the sensation for viewers of being dragged through the various levels of hell across the course of 2.5 turgid hours, riddled with incomprehensible dialogue, baffling accents and some of the most egregious continuity in recent film history.

Emerging blinking into the foyer after Disclosure Day, one isn’t confronted with a sense of wonder or curiosity, but instead of abject confusion at the incoherence of Koepp’s script and lack of technical ambition on Spielberg’s end. Perhaps this is the film’s real truth: never underestimate mankind’s capacity for disappointment.

It’s a strange, uniquely compelling film, empathetic enough to make any carnivore think twice about their chicken nuggets while never becoming a screed about meat-eating or farming. Moreover, it’s a great introduction of the irreverent eye of György Pálfi, who has just as unique a view on the world as his beloved hen heroine.

Lowery’s got the courage of his convictions, and while it’s hard to not hunger for more of the artistry which is so evident (choreographer Dani Vitale also deserves a nod) Mother Mary represents the sort of individual, original storytelling that feels all too rare in an industry pushed more and more towards adaptations, reboots and sequels.

It’s a shame the film that exists around this technical experiment oscillates between ludicrous and tedious, undermining any scares that might be generated through the wonder of creative foley and effective mixing.

The resulting film is an uneven one – occasional flashes of intrigue are hampered by Fuze​’s strange structure and uncertainty about how funny it wants to be. Although the 90 minute runtime is welcome during an age of ill-advised action film bloat, there’s not much good in a film being short if it’s also largely unremarkable.

The Drama wants you to believe it’s outrageous, but this unnecessary posturing gets in the way of a black comedy that is otherwise well-observed and amusing about the prickly nature of relationships, both sexual and platonic.

There’s nothing subtle about these films, from their Eat The Rich messaging to the just-go-with-it in-world lore, but in all of their schlock they strike a welcome tone between winking self-awareness and retro absurdity.

It’s a crowd-pleasing package, and Gosling is likeable enough to sell even the corniest jokes.

Wheatley captures the volatility of emotions during the festive period, where every familial anxiety seems to come to a head, and does so with compassion and humour.