Parky at the Pictures (DVD 11/2/2016)

Closer in spirit to Michael Winterbottom's 9 Songs (2004) than Nagisa Oshima's Ai No Corrida (1976) and less contentious in its making than Abdellatif Kechiche's Blue Is the Warmest Colour (2013), this is a picture that is going to provoke more debate than it merits. The storyline feels as though it has been lifted from a 1970s softcore porn romp, as aspiring American film-maker Karl Glusman and Parisian artist girlfriend Aomi Muyock drift into a ménage à trois with new neighbour Klara Kristin that ends in tears after a split condom leaves the latter pregnant. Two years on, Glusman is suffocating in a cocoon of cosy domesticity when he gets a New Year voicemail from Muyock's mother, who has not heard from her daughter in a while and fears she may have committed suicide.

Dotted throughout the flashbacking action are encounters with such seedy characters as cop Vincent Maraval, who suggests that Glusman and Muyock might find a solution to their exclusivity problems by visiting a swingers club, and art dealer Gaspar Noé (wearing a risible wig), who fancies his chances with the vulnerable Muyock. But the focus falls firmly on the bedroom antics of a threesome, who are far more photogenic than they are technically accomplished. One can't help but wondering whether this is a deliberate ploy, as the leads struggle so badly with the improvised dialogue that it's almost a relief when they become amorous again and can swap gasps and moans for peskily elusive words. At one point, they add a transgender prostitute to the mix. But, in a film of this length - especially one centred on characters with libidos rather than personalities - it's a distinct disadvantage to have three stars who can barely act carrying the dramatic burden of a picture that falls far short of those cited in the posters on Glusman's wall - DW Griffith's The Birth of a Nation (1915), Pier Paolo Pasolini's Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom (1975) and Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver (1976).

Noé is no stranger to transgression, having depicted acts of brutal violence in Seul Contre Tous (1998) and Irreversible. He also attempted sensuality in Enter the Void and repeats some of the gambits he employed in that distinctive fantasy (including a cervical point-of-view shot). But, while the gyrations and insertions are capably photographed (often from above and with as much sensitivity as prurience), Noé and cinematographer Benoît Debie make more interesting use of the space and textures within the mise-en-scène, just as Noé and co-editor Denis Bedlow achieve some neat transitions between scenes by blinking to black. Yet, for all the evident craftsmanship and adroit use of mood music, there is little inspiration on show along with the flesh and the fluids and the surfeit of chauvinism. Consequently, while this may be graphic in filmic terms, it feels a touch tame when eye-wateringly hardcore material is available at the click of a mouse.

Vincent Cassel played a key role in Irreversible and he contributes another powerful performance to Ariel Kleiman's debut feature, Partisan. Inspired by an article on a Colombian gang of child assassins and co-scripted with partner Sarah Cyngler, this has much in common with Yorgos Lanthimos's Dogtooth (2009) in its depiction of an enclosed community operating according to its own eccentric rules and rationale. But there is also something Dickensian about the cabal controlled by a Fagin-like mastermind, who sends his charges into the forbidding city to do his wicked bidding.

Eleven years after Vincent Cassel encounters Florence Mazzara at a hospital in an unnamed city, her son Jeremy Cabriel emerges as the most reliable member of a band of juvenile killers who are nurtured and trained in a compound sealed off from the rest of the world. Around 30 women and their offspring live in the warren of rooms leading off from an enclosed courtyard, in which Cassel instructs his charges in everything from gardening to conscience-free slaughter. He rewards effort with gold stars and allows those who excel at target practice and games of paintball to sing during the evening karaoke sessions. On one occasion, he even throws a pool party with inflatable palm trees.

Although Cassel is not his father, Cabriel worships him and strives to carry out his orders to the letter. Whether shooting at targets, balloons or unsuspecting human beings, Cabriel simply seeks to please the man who protects him from the evil that lurks in every corner of the city. Cool, calm and calculating, Cabriel carries out his hits with the minimum of fuss and always remembers to use earplugs to dull the sound of the gun. But he also has a more mischievous side and occasionally exploits the special bond he has with his gruff, but nurturing mentor.

Things start to change, however, when Cassel offers new mother Rosa Voto sanctuary and Cabriel becomes intrigued by her older child, Alex Balaganskiy, who is roughly his own age. He is used to thinking for himself and Cassel struggles to break his spirit. But Balaganskiy openly defies his authority when he is so appalled by the butchering of a chicken that he flies to the defence of another bird and puts up such a determined defence of the helpless creature that Cabriel not only comes to reconsider his diet, but also his blind obedience to Cassel.

Despite Cassel's efforts to demonise Balaganskiy by pointing out the dangerous nature of his rage and aggression, Cabriel is disturbed when his friend suddenly disappears. He is also surprised when a grocer offers him some chocolate after he visits his shop on the way back from murdering a mechanic to buy some meat to replace the piece his pregnant mother had dropped earlier in the day. Thus, when Mazzara gives birth, Cabriel becomes highly protective of his baby brother. Moreover, he starts to ponder the orders he had always followed without hesitation and watches quizzically as the blood seeps out of his next victim. On his way home, he allows another boy to look at his weapon and notes his reaction at seeing a gun at such close quarters. Back in the compound, Cabriel puts his earplugs in his sibling's ears and points his pistol at Cassel.

Exposition is at a premium in this self-consciously gnomic picture that ultimately fails to deliver on its promising premise. The bearded Cassel is typically effective as the brooding, ruthless, but curiously benevolent patriarch, whose reasons for forming a commune, preying on needy women or operating an assassination bureau are never even vaguely outlined. From his lectures, it's easy to glean his political leaning. But the wider context for his cult is never explained and, thus, the viewer is left to draw their own conclusion about the action's location and time frame.

Kleiman and Cyngler (who also worked on the costumes and aided Steven Jones-Evans with the atmospheric production design) are clearly very pleased with their conceit. But one is left with the nagging suspicion that the best part of the story has been left in the ellided decade occupied by Cabriel's off-screen childhood. The young actor has the steely eyes and the presence to cope with the initial demands made by his role. But he starts to struggle when he has to exhibit genuine emotion and, in this regard, he brings to mind Félix Bossuet in the Belle and Sebastian remakes. He is not helped, however, by the awkward ambiguity and the reluctance to explore the psychological aspects of a situation that is often overwhelmed by the incessant drone of Daniel Lopatin's infuriatingly manipulative score.

Another well-ordered household is disrupted by character from below stairs in Anna Muylaert's The Second Mother, which follows Argentine Jorge Gaggero's Live-In Maid (2004) and Chilean Sebastian Silva's The Maid (2009) in exploring how changing circumstances alter the relationship between the members of affluent South American families and the loyal domestics they have all taken for granted. Lacing the breezy comedy with astute social observation, this may not be the most demanding arthouse picture to reach UK cinemas in 2015. But it makes its points with the same assured insight and empathy that characterised the script Muylaert co-wrote for Cao Hamburger's delightful rite of passage, The Year My Parents Went on Vacation (2006).

Housekeeper Regina Casé has devoted 13 years of her life to São Paulo doctor Lourenço Mutarelli and his wife, Karine Teles. She understands their needs to well that they hardly have to give orders. Indeed, she has played such a key role in the nurturing of their son, Michel Joelsas, that he feels closer to Casé than he does to Teles and, even though he is about to take his university entrance exam, he still slips into the fiftysomething maid's bed for a reassuring cuddle.

Casé also knows her place and always refuses the small kindnesses offered by Teles and the indolent Mutarelli, who inherited his wealth and has few social graces to match his sense of entitlement. Everything changes, however, when Casé receives an unexpected visit from Camila Mardila, the teenage daughter she left behind when she separated from her husband. Racked with guilt, Casé has always striven to give her child the best she can afford. But, when Mardila asks if she can stay while sitting an exam to secure a place to study architecture at the city university, Casé discovers how little she has in common with the confident and independent young woman who sees the world in a very different light.

Thus, instead of sleeping on a mattress beside Casé in the basement, Mardila accepts Joelsas's offer to use the opulent guest room. Moreover, realising that both Joelsas and Mutarelli have developed a crush on her, she starts taking her meals with the family, eats the expensive ice-cream and even goes for a dip in the pool. Casé tries to browbeat Mardila into showing some deference and confides her concerns to junior maid Helena Albergaria. But Teles is also discomfited by Mardila's behaviour and declares the pool out of bounds when she spots a rat swimming in it. She also takes exception to the fact that Mutarelli buys Mardila some books and helps her study, while neglecting his son. However, she loses her patience when Mutarelli proposes to Mardila and no one believes his protestation that he was merely joking.

Joelsas flunks the exam and accepts a place at a university in Australia. However, Mardila gets top marks and is awarded a place. The only thing stopping her accepting is the fact that she has an infant son whose existence she has kept hidden. On learning she is a grandmother, Casé resigns her post and moves in with Mardila, so that she can improve herself and she can give her boy the start in life he deserves.

Although the twist feels a touch telenovelettish, this poignantly upbeat ending is neatly judged and allows Muylaert to draw the parallel storylines together. It also completes the sequence of twinned and mirrored incidents and traits that have recurred throughout the picture, along with the telltale signs that reveal the extent to which Casé is reminded of her status. But, for all the narratorial and thematic intricacy, this remains a highly accessible and engaging sitcom that is knowingly played by a fine ensemble.

With her beaming, toothy grin, Casé steals the show, although she is well supported by Teles, who shares many of her hopes, fears and prejudices across the class divide. But Mardila also revels in challenging convention and exploiting the man-childish chauvinism of Mutarelli and Joelsas (who has grown up a good deal since he headlined The Year My Parents Went on Vacation). There are moments when the action seems to be lapsing into a Brazilian version of Pier Paolo Pasolini's Theorem (1968). But Muylaert avoids arch symbolism and keeps the humour and the socio-political critique rooted in a reality that is deftly delineated by production designer Marquinho Pedroso and cinematographer Barbara Alvarez.

Finally, Swedish debutant Sanna Lenken demonstrates the difficulty of knowing what is going on under one's own roof in My Skinny Sister, which was awarded a Crystal Bear by the youth jury at the Berlin Film Festival. Having struggled with an eating disorder as a teenager, Lenken is well qualified to offer fresh insights into a subject she has already considered the viewpoint of several sufferers in her acclaimed 2013 short, Eating Lunch. Given the prevalence of the problem, it's surprising that features like Mike Leigh's Life Is Sweet (1990) have been so comparatively rare, especially as countless TV-movies have explored anorexia and bulimia with a melodramatic tone that is usually as patronising as it's well meaning. But, while she doesn't quite avoid moralising, Lenken does manage to avoid histrionics.

Teenager Amy Deasismont is showing signs of becoming a talented ice skater and parents Annika Hallin and Henrik Norlen agree to let her train with German coach Maxim Mehmet. Twelve year-old Rebecka Josephson idolises her sister and, even though she is a tad envious of the attention she receives, couldn't be more supportive of her bid to break into the big time. It helps, of course, that Josephson has developed an enormous crush on Mehmet and spends hours composing poems in a notebook she keeps carefully hidden away.

As Deasismont rises through the ranks, she begins to lose weight and Josephson becomes concerned when she sees her throw up her birthday dinner. Uncertain what to do for the best, as Hallin and Norlen are permanently busy, she asks her sister what she is trying to achieve and wonders whether striving for success is actually making her happy. But the furious Deasismont tells Josephson to mind her own business and threatens to tell their parents about her erotic verses.

Scared that the combination of starvation and excessive exercise will do the emotionally erratic Deasismont permanent harm, Josephson becomes more conflicted when her sibling collapses during a workout. Realising that Deasismont is simply getting better at keeping her secrets (such as retrieving crisps from the bin), Josephson eventually feels she has no option but to tell their parents, who sweep their daughters away for a week in a remote cabin in a bid to regain control of the situation. Racked by their failure to spot the telltale signs, Hallin and Norlen attempt to force feed Deasismont and it's only when she is hospitalised after she falls on the ice that she is able to appreciate that Josephson has been trying to help all along.

The granddaughter of Ingmar Bergman regular Erland Josephson, 11 year-old Rebecka Josephson excels as the tweenager caught between loyalty to her adored sister and wanting to save her from herself. However, even she struggles when the subplot involving Mehmet takes a regrettable twist after Josephson decides to tell him how she feels. But this is a rare misjudgement in a film whose small moments deftly capture the bond between sisters moving towards adulthood at different speeds.

Deasismont, who is primarily a pop singer and TV presenter, is slightly more mannered in the tricky role of the spoilt brat who is the apple of her father's eye. However, she is not helped by the sketchy characterisation that also hinders Hallin and Norlen, whose neglect isn't entirely excused by their hectic schedules and implicit trust in Mehmet. Lenken also seems confused over whether Deasismont is bulimic or anorexic and never quite solves the problem of getting inside her head when the dramatic focus falls on Josephson. Moreover, she misses the opportunity to discuss body shape, self-acceptance and the pressure placed on young girls to conform to the types vaunted by the media. Ultimately, therefore, this works much better as a study of sibling rivalry than a psychiatric case study. But cinematographer Moritz Schultheiss neatly contrasts the muted indoor colours with the sun-dappled exteriors and adopts Josephson's eye level to give the action an affecting mix of mischief and melancholy.