The best movies of 2026 (so far)

A world in which Sam Raimi is making demonically over-the-top horror comedies is a good place to be – and the Evil Dead legend has found two willing cohorts in Rachel McAdams and Dylan O’Brien for his deranged version of Cast Away. The table-turning premise sees an egregious boss and his down-trodden underling washed up on a remote island where the latter has the survival skills and the former just the lingering sense of entitlement. Cue a blood-soaked and deliriously nasty battle of wills. We knew McAdams had the chops but Maze Runner star O’Brien is a revelation as a man whose ego trumps his survival instincts.

Unscrew your skullcap, remove brain and surrender to this gloriously gory one-man-army thriller that plays like a lost gem from the VHS era. What starts as a snowbound Fargo-esque mystery explodes into a blizzard of bullets as Bob Odenkirk’s deadbeat sheriff takes on a town armed up to the armpits. Ben Wheatley directs the carnage with unabashed gusto and Odenkirk’s a blast as the ragged, grizzled cop. 

You don’t need to be a jazz buff to get a big kick out of this improbable true-life story about how a German teenager (Mala Emde) organised a landmark concert by legendary improv pianist Keith Jarrett (Past Lives’ John Magaro). Operating at a similarly sprightly cadence to Good Bye, Lenin!, and with an equally nostalgic eye for beige-shaded period detail, Köln 75 is a story of impetuousness meeting virtuosity – and how that offbeat alchemy resulted in the biggest selling solo jazz album in history. As The Fast Show’s Louis Balfour might say: niiiice!

Max Keegan’s striking film dramatises a man-made conflict in the natural world. In the Ariège uplands of France, rural communities are at loggerheads with ecologists who are introducing brown bears back into the wild, an act of preservation that is putting the local livestock at risk. Providing a balanced portrait between the opposing camps, Keegan delivers an exquisite portrait of nature and those who love it and those who rely on it, always keeping the humanity alive among the picture postcard landscapes.

Pixar finds form with an outdoors caper that has had everyone reaching for the Avatar comparisons (who said Avatar didn’t have a cultural footprint?). A nature-loving scamp stumbles upon a secret tech that allows her to infiltrate a beaver community and save her favourite wildlife sanctuary from the developers’ bulldozers. Nature, though, has other ideas. A bright, bubbly yarn with an eco-message and some dam good jokes, Hoppers is not quite top tier Pixar but it sits alongside the likes of Turning Red and Soul as a fun and thoughtful adventure that will have you seeing the world a little differently.  

It’s not a doc but Richard Linklater’s gorgeous monochrome making-of story for Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless is a sparkling, if respectful, document for that unique era in filmmaking. A revolutionary act that tore up the rulebook on editing, camerawork, narrative structure and people looking cool on screen, the French new wave classic is a holy text for Letterboxd devotee and Criterion Collectionistas alike – as well as filmmakers, natch. Linklater assembles a cast of doppelgangers to play Godard (Guillaume Marbeck), Jean Seberg (Zoey Deutch) and Jean-Paul Belmondo (Aubry Dullin) and recreate that ciggie-puffing creative alchemy in all its punky glory.

Add Aleshea Harris to the growing list of debuting filmmakers blasting down the door in 2026. Adapting her own off-Broadway play into a high-style odyssey of revenge, she mashes up genres and inspirations, from Tarantino to Sophocles, yet maintains such control of the tone and vision it injects the pastiche with new life. Kara Young and Mallori Johnson, also announcing themselves with bullhorn-volume, are twin sisters left disfigured by an incident from their childhood on a mission to fulfill their mother’s dying wish: to kill their abusive father. Even the dependable Sterling K Brown is a revelation, subverting his nice-guy image to portray a manifestation of pure malevolence.

A movie spun off from a Canadian cult comedy show that aired a decade ago would seem meant for the most niche of audiences, but you don’t have to be in on every joke to appreciate what Matt Johnson and Jay McCarrol pull off. The series, which mixed scripted bits with hidden-camera stunts, tracked the Torontonian musical duo’s fruitless efforts to land a gig, and so it goes here, only scaled up – the movie starts with an Ethan Hunt-esque guerrilla skydive then transitions into a full-on Back to the Future meta-spoof. Seamlessly blurring what’s real and what’s staged, it plays like an absurdist magic trick, while also being an oddly sweet ode to unconditional friendship.

Will Arnett and Laura Dern bring laughs and depth to a kind of unofficial (and much less traumatising) companion piece to Marriage Story. Based on the story of British comedian John Bishop, it follows a man faced with divorce (Arnett) who stumbles onto the stage of a New York stand-up club and finds freedom and therapy firing out relatable gags to crowds of strangers. Dern is her usual sparkling self, and director Bradley Cooper steals scenes as a struggling actor who thinks he’s Brando, but it’s the laconic Arnett who makes off with the movie. It’ll be the best kind of therapy for anyone going through similar tribulations. 

Three killer roles in two months is not bad going for Dylan O’Brien, a one-time YA star finally getting to show his full range. One of them was in Sam Raimi’s gonzo survival thriller Send Help and the other two come in James Sweeney’s peppery, moving and outrageously funny comedy-drama. He’s Roman, the brooding twentysomething struggling to cope with the death of his twin and – in flashback – Rocky, that extrovert gay twin. Enter Dennis (Sweeney), a lover of Rocky’s who inveigles his way into Roman’s life claiming to be a twin. It sounds like a cuckoo-in-the-next thriller; instead, it’s one of the year’s most unusual, unexpected gems.

Hands up who’s in the mood for a grown-up, ’70s-feeling crime thriller set in the City of Angels? The home turf for electrifying, car-chase-led genre pieces like The Driver, Drive and To Live and Die in L.A. reverberates again to the crackle of gunshot and the squeal of tyres in a stacked character piece that also doffs its balaclava to Michael Mann’s Los Angeles masterpiece Heat. The impressive Chris Hemsworth shows another side to his game as a meticulous jewel thief whose code of conduct goes out the window when Barry Keoghan’s psycho stick-up man enters the scene. Halle Berry and Mark Ruffalo triangulate the gripping drama as an insurer and detective caught up in the crossfire. 

Smartly pivoting away from bro-time bickering of Woody and Buzz, this reinvigorated Toy Story instalment passes the conch to Jessie (voiced, as ever, by an eternally zesty Joan Cusack) to prove that analogue playthings still have a role to play in the lives of tablet-obsessed kids and that, yes, social media is BAD. More than any other Pixar property, Toy Story has always spoken effortlessly to its two audiences: kids, who love the bustling, kaleidoscopic world-building and rescue-mission storytelling; and grown-ups, who will be left sobbing messes by the deeper themes of parenting in a changing world. 

One of the martial arts genre’s most imaginative fight choreographers, nearly every new movie involving Yuen Woo-ping (True Legend) is worth anticipating, and this Chinese comic adaptation finds him squarely in his zone. A traditional wuxia swordfighting epic updated with 21st century production, it boasts a stacked multigenerational cast, including Jet Li, and a classic story of a bounty hunter (Wu Jing) transporting a wanted criminal across dangerous terrain. Woo-ping uses everything at his disposal – intricate in-camera combat, ‘wire-fu’, CGI and, unfortunately, a dollop of AI – to orchestrate a nonstop barrage of headspinning action sequences that are at once visceral and fantastical, highlighted by a battle in a violent sandstorm that redefines ‘dust-up.’

Too sincere for parody yet too funny to qualify as melodrama, comedian John Early’s directorial debut explores the heretofore uncharted territory connecting Todd Haynes to Wet Hot American Summer. The direct inspo is disease-of-the-week TV movies, with Early, in drag, quite literally disappearing into the role of Maddie Ralph, an ascendant food influencer battling an eating disorder. He’s playing it straight – and wonderfully, too – while every other performance is laced with irony. Yet the end result is less a tonal clash than a reinvention of the ‘dramedy’, where the drama heightens the comedy and vice versa, building to a curiously moving end-note.

Documentary-maker Morgan Neville has investigated the complicated relationship between fame and music from different vantage points in 20 Feet From Stardom and Piece by Piece. His warm and fuzzy depiction of Paul McCartney in his immediate post-Beatles era follows a musical savant starting over in the full glare of the spotlight, opening himself to ridicule and the possibility of tarnishing his Fab Four own legacy. Instead, Wings became another global success story. Man On The Run tells its story as a double romance: for his wife and bandmate Linda, and for music itself. 

Part-British indie drama, part-Nollywood period piece, Akinola Davies Jr’s first feature film somehow became the first Nigerian film to enter competition at Cannes last year. It walked away with awards recognition, too, and deservedly so. With His House and Gangs of London star Sope Dirisu as an absentee dad who appears one day to take his two young sons on a mysterious journey into Lagos, it’s a family drama that’s backdropped by political turmoil – a film that asks how you protect your kids in a world where everything is turned upside down and finds a deeply touching answer.

A toddler, who believes herself to be God, finds her earliest experiences of the world are equally marked by joy and the threat of death. If that sounds a bit heavy for a candy-coloured cartoon, in the hands of first-time feature directors Maïlys Vallade and Liane-Cho Han it’s anything but. Like its animation style, it initially seems sweet and simple, but it reveals beautiful depths in a story that’s thoroughly charming and surprisingly profound.

Deliverance director John Boorman’s quixotic attempt to make a sequel to The Exorcist was a notorious flop, a critical and commercial disaster that enraged audiences and almost killed not only Boorman’s career, but very nearly him. Fifty years after the seemingly cursed shoot, Boorman and the Devil asks the director, surviving stars Linda Blair and Louise Fletcher, and assorted crew members, ‘What the hell happened?’ Even if you haven’t seen The Exorcist II: The Heretic, David Kittredge’s film is riveting and rewarding, because it’s more than an autopsy of a box-office failure. It’s about an ambitious, well-meaning and determined artist whose reach exceeded their grasp.

In a year of impressive directorial debuts, Canadian filmmaker Sophy Romvari’s first feature doesn’t announce itself with the force of Obsession or Backrooms. Instead, it quietly burrows into your heart, then gently rips it to shreds. Drawn partially from Romvari’s own life, and seen through the eyes of a young avatar, the movie peers in on a Hungarian immigrant family struggling to manage their eldest son’s undiagnosed – and increasingly dangerous – personality disorder. It’s intimate enough to start, then a mid-movie narrative shift allows Romvari to cross-examine her own childhood memories in a way that cuts impossibly close to the bone.

About as far from your usual rock doc as it’s possible to be, this tender, charming and occasionally rather weird treatise on the life of Marianne Faithfull takes as much from George Orwell’s 1984, as it does seminal Dylan doc Dont Look Back. Filmed before the iconic singer and cultural whirlwind’s death at the start of 2025, Broken English places Faithfull firmly in the pantheon of 20th century legends.

As a cultural sensation and Japan’s all-time highest-grossing live-action film, few were surprised when Kokuho took home 11 Japanese Academy Prizes in 2026. But could the appeal of this story of a dead gangster’s son who becomes a national kabuki (traditional dance theatre) icon possibly translate overseas (beyond the chin-stroker’s pen of Cannes)? The Oscars said yes, nominating Lee Sang-il’s film for Best Make-up and Hairstyling, but the movie’s phenomenal technical attributes also extend to the masterful costuming, cinematography, lighting, and art direction – all of which combine for a breathtaking on-stage finale that makes Billy Elliot look like Step Up.

What would you do if you woke up, looked out the window and realised your home had somehow been transported 200 million years into the past, suddenly making you a novel, albeit weirdly wrapped dinosaur snack? That cool question lies at the heart of David Robert Mitchell’s ’80s-suburban spin on the monster rampage flick, which puts regular folk Anne Hathaway and Ewan McGregor – as opposed to dino-experts and gun-toting military types – on the menu for prehistory’s greatest predators. The result is an often surprisingly harsh survival thriller which takes some unexpected turns, even while it embraces its B-movie roots.

A north London family drama dealing with dementia and rape is an admittedly tough sell – but Lance Hammer’s Berlin prize-winner rarely feels like an ordeal. Juliette Binoche is superb as a daughter caught in an impossible moral bind, while Anna Calder-Marshall and 89-year-old legend Tom Courtenay, joint Silver Bear winners, are devastatingly good as her ageing parents. Tender, thorny and beautifully acted, it asks difficult, universal questions about how we care for those we love.

Imagine Taken if nearly every character was harbouring a particular set of skills. That’s the gist of Kenji Tanigaki’s martial-arts spectacular, in which a mute father (Xie Miao) and an investigative journalist (Joe Taslim) team up to take down a child-trafficking ring. Of course, the plot is merely a coat rack on which Tanigaki hangs some of the most frenetic, stand-up-and-high-five fight sequences since The Raid. Sledgehammers and bikes are swung with equal malice, a kid is dangled from a speeding flatbed truck, one guy gets turned into a human popsicle then decapitated, and it all culminates in a nonstop 30-minute throwdown at a police station that’ll cause action fans to levitate. A genre insta-classic.

Ukrainian director Sergei Loznitsa constructs a Kafkaesque labyrinth into which bright-eyed lawyer Kornyev (Aleksandr Kuznetsov) stumbles in his chilling, compelling political thriller. Set during the Stalinist purges of the 1930s but germane to the current moment, it’s a deft exploration of repression – a Pilgrim’s Progress in which the young idealist wades into a mire of increasing despair as it becomes clear that the Soviet state is not the beacon of light he took it for. Double bill it with The Death of Stalin for the ultimate communist takedown.  

Meryl Streep’s Miranda Priestly is still eating interns for breakfast, only now she has to do it in the – shudder – Elias-Clarke canteen and flying in coach. The post-9/11 optimism of the superior first film has been washed away in the uncertainty of the tech, private equity and AI dominated mid-2020s, but there’s a winning honesty to a bittersweet sequel that finds space for all the fan-pleasing menu items you’d expect (chic fashion, celeb cameos, big pop cues) and belting performances from all your old favourites. You don’t have to be a journalist to care about Runway mag’s travails, any more than you need to be a nanny to enjoy Mary Poppins. 

Not all movie weathermen are flakey Phil Connors types. Wielding his barometric readings with steely determination is Andrew Scott’s army meteorologist James Stagg in Aussie director Anthony Maras’ gripping real-life account of the lead-up to D-Day. Looming over him are Allied big cheeses Monty (Damien Lewis) and Ike (Brendan Fraser), demanding clear weather for the assault on Nazi-occupied France… except, the data points to a big storm sweeping in from the Atlantic. Scott is superb as a man with a tempest of his own swirling beneath the surface in a war film that’s unafraid to stay indoors to show the claustrophobic conflict behind a history-altering decision.

Imagine Mother Nature grabbing a Super 8 camera and making a home movie. That’s the essence of Ed Sayers’ crowdsourced nature doc. Each armed with a Super 8, 40 people across 25 countries shoot and share footage of their local wildlife, from orcas in Patagonia to Arizona rattlesnakes, all captured in the enchanting grit and flicker of 8mm film. Inevitably, we see our injurious effects on the environment, but Sayers remains upbeat about the curative powers of nature. Big on spectacle, lo-fi in delivery, it’s a mini-miracle of a film.

A couple of things about YouTube horror sensation Curry Barker: one, definitely don’t be a cat in one of his movies; two, he’s going far on the evidence of this Blumhouse follow-up to his microbudget found footage hit Milk & Serial. The other breakout here is Inde Navarrette who plays Nikki, the crush of mumbling softboi (Michael Johnston), and the subject of a monkey paw-style hex that leaves her deeply – madly – in love with him. Like a romcom that goes majorly off the rails, Obsession picks away at the darkest side of infatuation in icky, unsettling and often hilarious style. 

Taking the reins of Danny Boyle’s zombie franchise, Nia DaCosta (Candyman) turns down the ruminations on grief, amps up the gore and cranks the Iron Maiden, delivering a brutally entertaining sequel. Arriving just six months after its predecessor, the focus shifts to its two most compelling characters: Jack O’Connell’s malevolent cult leader and Ralph Fiennes’ iodine-slathered doctor. Fiennes, in particular, is spectacular in a performance as physical as it is soulful. If only there were an Oscar for Best Heavy Metal Interpretive Dancing.

Dovetailing neatly with excellent British D-Day drama Pressure, De Gaulle offers a rarer-seen, punchily relevant French perspective on World War II. One of the most expensive French films ever made, this epic two-part biopic of the stubborn Resistance leader with ‘a head like a banana’ (Simon Abkarian) is gripping stuff. Packed with spectacular battle action and stirring heroism, Part 2 also closes the curtain on De Gaulle’s affecting bromance with Churchill (Simon Russell Beale) in a finale worthy of Casablanca.

Amanda Seyfried is Mother. That’s the honorific bestowed upon her as the founder of the Shaker religious sect in Mona Fastvold’s strange, rhapsodic musical, but it works in the Gen Z sense of the term, too. Impassioned and unwavering, she’s the anchor for what’s effectively an immigrant story, as she leads her flock out of oppressive 1700s England to the alleged promised land of America. Fastvold, meanwhile, renders their convulsing, caterwauling expressions of devotion like Busby Berkeley directing a tent revival. A truly singular experience.

Pedro Almodóvar employs his lens as a mirror in this barbed and abashed autofiction about a celebrated, fashion-forward Madrid filmmaker (cough, cough) who exploits his closest confidantes for material. In other hands, it could be excruciatingly solipsistic, and there are moments where the intercutting between the auteur’s (Wild Tales’ Leonardo Sbaraglia) life and scenes from his new melodrama, ‘Bitter Christmas’, teeters under its own artifice. But Almodóvar pulls it off with his usual panache, stirring chutzpah and humility into a tart cocktail that brings a whole new flavour to his formidable filmography. 

Seaside auteur Mark Jenkin completes his self-proclaimed ‘Cornish trilogy’ (Bait, Enys Men) with an absolute mindbender. Set in a fishing village, it time leaps from the drab present day to a more vibrant recent past, conjuring up a mesmerising parable of entropic decline. Despite working with bigger stars (George MacKay and Callum Turner), Jenkins’ DIY filmmaking aesthetic is very much alive. Hand-cranked 16mm cameras and post-synced sound provide an ethereal atmosphere lacking in the majority of recent mainstream releases. And if that sounds too arty, come for the ‘Back to the Future with mackerel’ vibes and stay for one of the best films of the year.

François Ozon does justice (and then some) to Albert Camus’ literary landmark in a sultry, sophisticated adaptation that puts the sexy into existentialism. As any literature student will tell you, ‘L’Etranger’ always felt like an unadaptable novella but the French filmmaker cracks the code. Enigmatic colonial clerk Meursault (Benjamin Voisin), whose cold-blooded murder of an Arab man in 1940s Algeria is one of 21st century literature’s most iconic moments, is framed in ridiculously cool monochrome cinematography, a man at odds with a world of bourgeoise conventions and colonial hypocrisy. Sex, violence and the fine art of not giving a fuck come together in a period piece that shimmers like a desert mirage. 

Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, take a bow. The dynamic duo have given us a LEGO movie that worked – and then some – as well as an unlikely big-screen reboot of 21 Jump Street and a re-spinning of Spider-Man into a dazzling fresh animated franchise. So can they pull of a man-on-a-mission sci-fi that sends Ryan Gosling into the heavens to team up with an alien rock critter and lift all our spirits at a gloomy time in human existence? Naturally. Like Silent Running on a sugar high, Project Hail Mary follows The Martian as the latest of Andy Weir’s smart, humanist sci-fi novels to light up the screen. Gosling has rarely been better and Greig Fraser’s cinematography proves that, in space, it’s always magic hour.  

Paola Sorrentino went off the boil with his male-gazy misfire Parthenope, but he relocates his fire with a soulful, often exquisite political character study. It helps having his long-time muse Toni Servillo (Il Divo, The Great Beauty) bringing his canny, hangdog presence to the part of a soon-to-retire Italian president pondering weighty matters – two pardons and an assisted dying legislation – and suspicions that his much-mourned wife wasn’t entirely faithful. The writer-director leavens it all with his usual quirky wit and the gilded touch of a stylist.

Hands up who had this down as the weepie of the year? Yet here we are, passing the tissues around at the sight of two estranged brothers clutching each others’ hands aloft as they discover how much their music means to people – even those who weren’t old enough the first time around. Of course, all that personal growth comes with a swagger as Liam and Noel Gallagher – and Bonehead, the band’s answer to Ringo – unleash ‘Wonderwall’, ‘Hello’ and other Oasis classics to adoring crowds, all without punching each other even once for old time’s sake. Co-directors Will Lovelace and Dylan Southern, writer Steven Knight, who finds a strong emotional throughline in this story of reconciliation and emotional connection, and a handful of elite cinematographers make this the best music doc since Peter Jackson’s Get Back.

Having tackled a challenging aspect of child psychology with her first film, Mascha Schilinski applies for a place among the pantheon of great German filmmakers with this ambitious, artistically assured and supremely cinematic examination of the lives of young women and girls living on a farm in rural Bavaria. Decades separate them, yet transgenerational trauma echoes and rhymes through the ages, offering a bleak yet profound glimpse into the darkest recesses of the human condition.

Pressing on a vivid bruise, Mary Bronstein’s semi-autobiographical motherhood tale will be an uncomfortable watch for many parents. Rose Byrne turns in a career-best performance as a psychotherapist and mum struggling to stay afloat as her daughter suffers through a debilitating feeding disorder. Motherhood is stripped right back to its most primal essence: a daily fight to provide for your child and yourself – all while trying to stay sane and dealing with snooty colleagues (Conan O’Brien) and absent partners.

Back in 1985, Ross McElwee’s documentary Sherman’s March – half-Civil War travelogue, half-record of his efforts to meet single ladies – wowed Sundance. Fast forward 40 years and this cine-memoir of the ensuing years reduced the Venice Film Festival to tearful sobs. A stunning, self-scouring piece of work that investigates the cost of living life through a camera lens, it sees the filmmaker pay tribute to the son he lost to the opioid crisis and question his own restless urge to document family life. Divorce, loss, grief: Remake is a film shaped from the rawest materials. There’s a fragile beauty and tenderness in every moment.

Our comedy of 2026 so far, Olivia Wilde’s one-and-a-bit-location gem is a stellar showcase of writing, directing and comic acting of the highest order. Wilde and Seth Rogen are a warring, weary couple, Joe and Angela, who invite their raucously horny upstairs neighbours (Penélope Cruz, Edward Norton) down for a soirée to celebrate their newly renovated apartment. Well, Angela does – Joe hates everything about the idea. Transplanted neatly from 2020 Spanish comedy The People Upstairs to a bourgeois San Francisco oasis of good taste and bad vibes, it’s a feast of bitchy asides, etiquette crises (to open the good wine or not?) and dialogue that cracks like a whip. The four contrasting leads are all note perfect, with comeback queen Wilde magnificent as the brittle Angela. My advice? See it with a crowd.

If Burning Man is your personal vision of hell, then Óliver Laxe’s mid-apocalyptic thriller will hit like the most disturbing horror movie of the year. What starts as a mystery involving a father (Sergi López) searching for his missing daughter at a desert rave in Morocco becomes a slo-mo death crawl that evokes Mad Max: Fury Road if it were paced like William Friedkin’s Sorcerer. Sensorially, it’s a total nerve-shredder. Laxe harnesses the inherently sinister thump-and-screech of bass music to twist the phrase ‘dance like there’s no tomorrow’ into a self-fulfilling prophecy.  

Even his hardcore YouTuber fanbase couldn’t have foreseen Kane Parsons’ extraordinary slow-burn horror film crossing over to the tune of $400 million. For any newbies out there: imagine being trapped with Renate Reinsve and Chiwetel Ejiofor in a kind of endless, Dadaist Ikea in the ’90s, where a wrong turn brings unimaginable terrors and surrealist touches are everywhere … that for two brilliant, immersive, chilling hours. Thanks to the 20-year-old Californian, zoomers now have their own answer to The Blair Witch Project and Hollywood has a dose of fresh optimism.

Like a delirious splicing of Mulholland Drive, Sunset Boulevard and the horror section of your local Blockbuster circa 1988, Jane Schoenbrun’s (I Saw the TV Glow) slasher sticks the knife into Hollywood studios, overheated ideology and plenty more besides with one of the boldest movies of the year. Hannah Einbinder and Gillian Anderson spark as a young indie director and the Norma Desmond-ish scream queen she’s trying to coax out of retirement to headline her slasher reboot. Queer desire, sexual repression and cinephile obsessions build to a crescendo that’ll be an orgasmic, out-of-body experience for any movie-lover looking for new thrills. 

Tunisian director Kaouther Ben Hania (Four Daughters) tunes into a heartbreaking frequency with the story of a six-year-old Palestinian girl caught in the path of the IDF. Using real audio of Hind’s final calls to the Palestinian Red Crescent, reenacted by Palestinian actors, this devastating docudrama presents a portrait of life and death in Gaza more piercing than any political commentary. Released amid the ongoing crisis, it transcends documentation and becomes an urgent act of intervention.

It’s the foundational text of Western narrative storytelling but moviemakers have run scared of adapting The Odyssey – the Coens, Mario Camerini and Uberto Pasolini apart. Enter Christopher Nolan to bring a fearless, IMAX-scaled version of Homer’s epic poem. It’s not just our favourite film of the year to date, but one of the Brit’s very best movies. With peak performances across the board, especially from Matt Damon as the war weary Odysseus and Samantha Morton as fragile but fiery sorceress Circe, and a sense of widescreen wonder that harks back to the days of David Lean, The Odyssey already feels like a bridge connecting classic cinema with a brighter, more optimistic future.