Directed by celebrated Norwegian filmmaker Dag Johan Haugerud, this emotionally rich drama charts the awakening of 17-year-old Johanne (Ella Øverbye), whose unexpected crush on her new French teacher Johanna (Selome Emnetu) becomes the starting point for a personal journey of desire, memory and self-expression. As Johanne pours her innermost feelings into a diary, the private becomes public when she shares it with her grandmother (Anne Marit Jacobsen) and mother (Ane Dahl Torp), prompting uneasy conversations about love, generational longing and the blurred lines between art, memory and reality. Through a subtle blend of voice-over narration, intimate dialogue and soft, reflective cinematography, the film invites audiences to feel the tender awkwardness of first love, the longing of adolescence, and the complex ways stories are shaped and reshaped across generations. With its nuanced performances and sensitive direction, it offers a profound meditation on the way memory, confession and imagination can intersect — and the courage it takes to face both.

Directed by Chloé Zhao, this moving adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell’s celebrated novel brings to life the tender, complex marriage between Agnes and her husband — a man whose future renown casts a long shadow across their family. Jessie Buckley embodies Agnes with fierce intuition and vulnerability, while Paul Mescal portrays a young writer struggling to balance artistic ambition with the obligations of home. Set in late sixteenth-century England, the story unfolds through moments of domestic joy, longing and quiet strain, culminating in the devastating loss of their son, Hamnet. The grief that follows ripples through their lives, shaping not only their relationship but also the creative world that will one day define a cultural legacy. With her signature blend of naturalistic storytelling and emotional clarity, Zhao creates a world that feels tactile and intimate. The film reflects on how love endures through distance, how tragedy reshapes identity and how art emerges from the deepest personal fault lines. Buckley and Mescal deliver performances of remarkable depth, anchoring a period drama that speaks with striking contemporary resonance.

Set in a near-future Tokyo teetering on the edge of authoritarian control and environmental collapse, this bold drama centres on two high school friends — Yuta and Kou — whose final year before graduation becomes a crucible of identity, fear and rebellion. When a prank on their principal leads to the installation of a sweeping facial-recognition surveillance system, the school transforms into a microcosm of societal control. As government decrees tighten and earthquake threats loom, the students must decide how to respond. Directed by Neo Sora, with standout performances by Hayato Kurihara and Yukito Hidaka, the film pulses with youthful energy, disquiet and defiance. The storyline weaves together teenage friendships, underground music culture and political urgency, creating a portrait of youth resistance against conformity. With stark, immersive visuals and a score that resonates like a heartbeat, the film captures both the vibrant hopes and anxious dread of growing up in turbulent times. It’s a cinematic reckoning with identity, art, oppression and the search for freedom when the world seems determined to silence you.

In a journey that spans continents and hearts, Jimpa follows filmmaker Hannah (Olivia Colman) and her nonbinary teen Frances (Aud Mason-Hyde) as they travel from Adelaide to Amsterdam to visit Hannah’s estranged father — now known to Frances simply as “Jimpa” (John Lithgow). What begins as a visit becomes a profound reckoning as Hanna confronts the legacy of abandonment, Frances seeks roots and identity, and Jimpa, with his own history and longing, tries to bridge the gaps time created. Under the sensitive direction of Sophie Hyde, the film weaves a multi-generational, cross-cultural tapestry that explores identity, sexuality, memory and family love in its many forms. The nuanced performances — Colman’s emotional depth, Lithgow’s bold vulnerability, and Mason-Hyde’s quiet strength — anchor a story that refuses binary labels and celebrates the messy, beautiful complexity of modern families. With emotional honesty, gentle humour and striking moments of connection, Jimpa invites viewers to question what defines family, who gets to belong, and how love adapts — across generations, geographies, and identity.

In 2018 Los Angeles, Matthew (Théodore Pellerin) drifts through life working at a trendy streetwear store while living with his grandmother. His world tilts the moment the rising pop star Oliver (Archie Madekwe) walks in — and Matthew plays one of Oliver’s favourite songs on the store speakers. Invited to a concert and then into Oliver’s inner circle, Matthew seizes the chance to film a behind-the-scenes documentary for Oliver’s upcoming album. As fame beckons, Matthew’s admiration transforms into ambition: subtle manipulation, blackmail and obsession pull him deeper into a dangerous game where loyalty is forged through proximity. Oliver’s charm and uncertainty, paired with Matthew’s desperation, blur lines between fandom, intimacy and exploitation. Their relationship becomes a tangled psychosexual dance of power and vulnerability, pulling everyone around them into uncertainty. Directed by Alex Russell, this film refuses easy morality or comfort. Instead it offers a ruthless, immersive portrait of modern celebrity culture — how longing for belonging, validation and success can twist identity and fracture trust. With compelling performances, authentic atmosphere and unsettling tension, the film asks: when you finally cross the threshold into fame, who gets to belong — and at what cost?

In a quiet suburban life, Colin — a mild-mannered traffic warden with a modest hobby of barbershop singing — feels invisible. Everything changes when he meets Ray, a confident biker and member of a queer motorcycle gang, whose dominant presence shatters Colin’s routine and invites him into a world governed by submission, leather, and intense desire. Under the daring direction of Harry Lighton, the film charts their unconventional romance with honesty and sensitivity, peeling back layers of identity, longing and consent. Harry Melling brings heartfelt fragility to Colin, capturing the confusion and thrill of a man navigating new desires, while Alexander Skarsgård embodies Ray’s magnetic dominance — commanding yet strangely vulnerable. Adapted from Adam Mars-Jones’s novel Box Hill, the story investigates the boundaries of love, power and self-understanding. What begins as secret trysts and leather-clad encounters evolves into a deeply human exploration of vulnerability, transformation and belonging. Through moments of tenderness, humour and pain, the film invites us to question what makes a relationship real — and what it takes to accept oneself.

Celebrated with the Cannes Grand Prix, this internationally acclaimed drama centres on a family brought back into orbit by a filmmaker whose return stirs both love and long-standing hurt. When he begins shaping a deeply personal project inspired by their shared past, his daughters are pushed to re-examine the stories they have carried into adulthood. One, a performer grappling with her own uncertainties, resists reopening old chapters; the other, grounded yet unsettled by the resurfacing memories, finds herself confronting truths she had learned to bury. Guided by the assured vision of a distinguished director, the film unfolds with emotional precision and striking restraint. Its performances reveal the shifting dynamics of connection, identity and the fragile negotiations that occur within families fractured by time. With its quiet power and thoughtful craftsmanship, the film offers a resonant reflection on how art can illuminate — and complicate — the bonds we inherit.

In 1916, as the Great War ravages Europe and conscription empties entire towns of their men, the quiet mill town of Ramsden faces a different kind of crisis: its cherished choral society loses nearly all its male voices. In desperation, the choir appoints Dr. Henry Guthrie (Ralph Fiennes), a cultured but controversial choirmaster with a past that casts suspicion among the local community. Undeterred, he proposes an ambitious revival — recruiting teenage singers and veteran patients from a nearby hospital to tackle The Dream of Gerontius, a challenging oratorio by Edward Elgar. As rehearsals begin, the choir becomes a microcosm of war-torn England — a tapestry of grief, hope, class conflict, faith and forbidden identities. With a richly textured ensemble cast including Roger Allam, Mark Addy, Simon Russell Beale and others, every voice represents a story of loss or longing. Humor, tension and quiet dignity interweave, capturing how a small community tries to reclaim grace and solidarity through music. Directed by Nicholas Hytner from a screenplay by Alan Bennett, the film offers a deeply human portrait of resilience, art and conscience in the face of upheaval.

Set during Stalin’s Great Purge, this compelling drama follows a newly appointed prosecutor whose ideals begin to unravel when a blood-written letter from a political prisoner reaches him. The message reveals torture, coercion and a system engineered to bury truth, forcing him into a moral struggle against a vast and unyielding bureaucracy. As he confronts prison authorities, officials and the unspoken rules governing survival, he encounters a world where fear dictates every choice. The film’s emotional power is heightened by exceptional performances from Aleksandr Kuznetsov and Aleksandr Filippenko, who capture the tension and vulnerability of individuals navigating an oppressive state. Under the assured direction of renowned filmmaker Sergei Loznitsa, the story unfolds with stark visual clarity and meticulous atmospheric detail. Its measured pacing and immersive production design create a vivid portrait of a society where justice is reshaped by those in power. This is a resonant examination of conscience, courage and the fragile pursuit of truth under authoritarian rule.

When Mike (Frank Dillane) emerges from prison, he hopes for stability — a hostel bed, a job in a kitchen, maybe a shot at rebuilding something like dignity. But London’s indifferent streets, the weight of his past, and the lure of old habits make that hope fragile. Under the direction of Harris Dickinson, his debut feature, we follow Mike through stints of effort and relapse: a public-house job, meals at community shelters, tense reunions, whispered despair, and intermittent snatches of fragile optimism. Dickinson draws on close personal observation and charitable-work experience to depict a world often ignored — people on the real margins, falling between bureaucratic cracks, longing for safety and acceptance. Mike isn’t a symbol or a villain — he’s human, messy and painfully real. The film’s power comes from its refusal to sentimentalise, offering instead a stark, sometimes brutal honesty about addiction, mental anguish and social failure. Frank Dillane’s portrayal captures every tremor, every moment of hope and every relapse with raw intimacy. Blending gritty realism with occasional surreal touches, Urchin refuses easy answers. Instead, it invites empathy: to see lives often dismissed, and to acknowledge that survival isn’t just physical — it’s emotional, psychological, existential.