Parky at the Pictures (DVD 3/4/2014)

As the rain cascades outside, shoe manufacturer Laurent Grévill composes himself before jumping to his death, while, across Paris, his teenage daughter, Lola Créton, stumbles in a daze through the nocturnal streets bleeding between the legs and wearing nothing but a pair of high heels. On being interviewed by the police, Julie Bataille accuses financier Michel Subor of being responsible for her husband's death and her daughter's assault. But inspector Nicole Dogué is clearly unimpressed by her hysterical outburst and urges her to calm down and go and put her house in order.

Unable to cope, Bataille contacts estranged brother Vincent Lindon, who takes extended leave from his duty as a tanker skipper and, one month after his brother-in-law's demise, he moves into the building in which Subor has installed mistress Chiara Mastroianni and their young son Yann Antoine Bizette. Leaving the apartment unfurnished, Lindon sleeps on a mattress and spends his time surfing the internet for information about Subor and his personal and professional dealings. However, from the first time they meet in the lift, there is a tension between Lindon and Mastroianni that intensifies after he fixes Bizette's bicycle and she launders his white shirt after it gets spattered with oil.

Determined to get to the bottom of Créton's injuries, Lindon goes to the clinic in which she is being treated and is informed by doctor Alex Descas that she has been overdoing the drink and drugs and will require surgery to repair her damaged genitals. Dismayed by the news, Lindon tries to rebuild bridges with teenage daughter Jeanne Disson when she comes to stay, but he admits to being a poor husband and father and doesn't blame his ex-wife for keeping their two girls away from him.

While Lindon is willing to accept his shortcomings, Bataille insists on blaming everyone but herself for her plight and lawyer Eric Dupond-Moretti warns her that unless she declares herself bankrupt within 45 days, she could lose both the factory and her home. Lindon reveals that he had given his share of an inheritance to help his sister launch the business and she raves that Subor lured Grévill into bad business decisions. But Dupond-Moretti refuses to lodge an official complaint against him, as there is no evidence to support her contention.

As they drive away, Lindon berates Bataille for not being straight with him about the state of the company and the fact that Créton has been allowed to spiral out of control. But he seems to share her dislike of Subor and watches from his window as the tycoon comes to collect Bizette and holds his hand in the back of the car as they drive away for the weekend. Yet it is never made clear whether it is revenge or passion that motivates him to seduce Mastroianni when she returns his shirt. They make love with urgency, but have little to say to one another afterwards and she hurries away fully aware of the risk she is taking to assuage her evident loneliness.

Ignoring the advice of banker Hélène Fillières, Lindon quits his job and cashes in his life insurance to help Bataille. He also sells his beloved Alfa Romeo to fellow skipper Christophe Miossec and takes the train back to the factory, where he is annoyed to see the piles of unsold stock, which he considers to be cheap and tacky. As he writes her a cheque, he ticks off Bataille for ruining a good venture and she gives him their father's revolver and tells him he is going to need it when they rendezvous at the remote country sex shack where Créton was abused. Lindon views owners Grégoire Colin and his pregnant partner Florence Loiret Caille with a jaundiced eye before throwing a punch at the former, but he is still unable to piece together precisely what happened to his niece.

Back in Paris, Mastroianni spots Lindon's watch in the window of a secondhand shop and buys it back for him after another bout of love-making. He tells her she is too good to be a rich man's concubine, but she assures him that Subor has been a caring companion who did much to boost her self-esteem when she was cast adrift by her parents. Nettled, she scoffs at Lindon's track record as a family man, but he merely strugs. Similarly, he makes light of being attacked in the street. But he refuses to shake Subor's hand when they meet in the lobby of the apartment block and Mastroianni sends him an angry text ordering him to leave when he accepts Subor's invitation to coffee.

Despite suspecting Mastroianni of infidelity, Subor collects her for a night out and she returns in the small hours to find Lindon sitting on the staircase outside her door. Ignoring the possibility that babysitter Elise Lhomeau might hear them, Mastroianni responds to Lindon's advances, as he loosens her hair and unzips her dress. Indeed, they are canoodling when the land line rings inside the apartment and she dashes in to field a call from Subor, who is checking up on her before boarding a plane for a business trip. Hurriedly paying off Lhomeau, Mastroianni pleads with Lindon to leave, but he stays as she gives Bizette his breakfast and only departs when he gets a call on his mobile.

Lindon goes to a café to meet with Sharunas Bartas, who is angry that he abandoned his ship and tells Lindon that his chances of getting another captain's post have deteriorated markedly. However, he has no time to feel sorry for himself, as Descas calls to let him know that Créton has run away. Bataille is furious and brands Descas a disgrace. But he calmly retorts that she has hardly been a model mother and he commends Lindon for trying to do the right thing by such difficult people, as he gives him a lift home.

Convinced that Créton would seek sanctuary with Colin and Loiret Caille, Lindon takes a taxi to the sticks and asks the driver to wait. He finds Loiret Caille tossing items on to a bonfire, but, as he starts searching the out-buildings, she smuggles Créton into the cab and they speed away, leaving Lindon to walk home down the central reservation of the main road. He asks Miossec if he can borrow the Alfa and meets with Colin in an internet café. He shows Lindon CCTV images of Subor and Mastroianni arriving on his premises and informs him that even more damning footage is available for a price.

Meanwhile, Mastroianni has gone to collect Bizette from school to discover that Subor has decided to take permanent custody of him, as a punishment for her fling with Lindon. He explains in a letter that he does not want the mother of his son consorting with such a debased family and, naturally, she is distraught. While Subor teaches Bizette how to sail his yacht, Lindon confronts Bataille with the photos he obtained from Colin and she tries to deflect the blame as he accuses her of using Créton to coax Subor into underwriting their failing business. However, when he returns home, Mastroianni denounces Lindon for using her to exact his revenge on Subor, but he insists he has done nothing wrong and that Subor is the bastard, not him.

Créton has very different ideas about who is responsible for her misery, however, and she turns off the headlights as she speeds along a country road, with Colin and Loiret Caille high on drugs and lust alongside her in the front seat. A brusque cut reveals the latter staggering away from the wreckage of the vehicle and, even though she is bleeding, the implication is that she and her child will survive. Bizette will also be fine, as he returns to the apartment with Subor to collect some of his belongings, including his bike. The boy rushes upstairs hoping to see his mother, who is seeking solace with Lindon. Subor gloatingly tells her that their son is about to start school in Geneva and, this final act of treachery, compels Lindon to attack him. As they tussle on the landing, Mastroianni grabs Lindon's gun and fires a shot. But, knowing that Subor has the wealth and status give her child the best start in life, it is her lover who perishes.

As the crumpled chassis of the car in which Créton died is carried along on a transporter truck, Descas invites Bataille to view some harrowing footage of her husband and daughter lying naked on a mattress with Lioret Caille, as a reclining Subor looks on. Grévill fondles Créton and a corncob appears in the front corner of the frame, as the image blurs and the desperate father forces his daughter down and climbs on top of her.

Borrowing this sickening climactic sequence from William Faulkner's 1931 novel Sanctuary and the core storyline from Akira Kurosawa's 1960 drama, The Bad Sleep Well, Claire Denis succeeds in showing how little human nature has changed over the decades, while also commenting on the moral malaise in contemporary France. Key to the action is a throwaway line by the concierge of the apartment building, who responds to Mastroianni's surprise that he is helping his ailing mother by stating that people should do anything for their family. Yet, while this reworking of Jean Renoir's famous maxim that everyone has their reasons just about holds things together, Denis and Fargeau relate their tale with such self-conscious opacity that the denouement winds up resembling something from a soap opera with pretensions rather than the Greek tragedy to which the writers were obviously aspiring.

The over-manipulative electronica score by Tindersticks scarcely helps matters. But the dependable Lindon makes a splendidly noirish anti-hero and Denis and regular cinematographer Agnès Godard (working together in digital for the first time) make evocative use of close-ups to capture his tangled emotions. However, the female characters are not delineated in similar detail and we end up knowing as much about Loiret Caille as we do about Bataille, Créton and Mastroianni. Nevertheless, all three give fine performances, with Bataille's accusatory tirades contrasting with Créton's resentful taciturnity and Mastroianni's conflicted hesitancy. Subor also struggles to prevent his villain from being a touch one note, but the scenes in which he is alone with Bizette make for stark viewing alongside those of Lindon and the teenage Disson.

Notwithstanding its intricacy and intensity, this is a film to admire rather than acclaim. The structural slickness fails to make the plot twists any less contrived, while the music seems to work against the visuals by providing emotional cues that take the pressure off viewers as they strive to follow the action and its implications. Always in control of the grim rhythmic lyricism of her visuals, Denis ensures that the bestial acts are in no way gratuitous. But there is something forced about springing the big secret in the final frames, as many will have already deduced the hideous truth. Thus, while this may be dark, daring and demanding, it is also slightly disappointing.

The `difficult second' is one of the great cultural conundrums. Be it a novel, album or film, the sophomore outing tends to disappoint those who had enthused about the ingenuity or restraint of the debut and leads to inevitable accusations of creative hubris or burnout. Sadly, French director Katell Quillévéré is the latest to fall victim to deuxièmitis, as Suzanne lacks the narrative and stylistic precision that made Love Like Poison (2010) so impressive. She cannot be faulted for her ambition in attempting to chart 25 years in the existence of a girl who is raised with her younger sister by their trucker father after their mother dies. But, in opting for such an elliptical approach, Quillévéré has fashioned a story that is often as erratic as it is touching. Consequently, for all its sombre realism, this ends up feeling more like melodrama than a slice of life.

Widower François Damiens tries hard to engage with daughters Apollonia Luisetti and Fanie Zanini, who are never happier when they are doing dance routines in spangly costumes at school. He takes them for a picnic lunch at their mother' grave and they joke about grandpa smelling funny. But Damiens loses his temper with Luisetti when she misses a meal at school because she was too busy playing and Zanini cries because she doesn't like her daddy shouting. He calms them down and admits to neighbour Lola Dueñas that he doesn't have an easy life, but he avoids sharing too many confidences, as he knows she has a crush on him and he isn't ready to begin again.

Years pass in the twinkling of a cut to black and when Quillévéré catches up with the family, the teenage Sara Forestier and Adèle Haenel are singing happily in the cab of Damiens's lorry. However, the girls have become independent spirits and Damiens is so distraught at learning from a teacher at her school that Forestier is pregnant and has decided to keep the baby that he slaps her hard across the face when she gets home, as her recklessness will impact upon all of them. He gets used to the idea, however, and does his bit in caring for grandson Timothé Vom Dorp, while Forestier finds work as a telephonist with a soulless corporation.

Haenel realises her sister doesn't have much fun and takes her for a night out. But Forestier insists on bringing her child and he lies with his head on her lap, as she watches Haenel bopping with her pals. Even when she starts dating Karim Leklou, Haenel tries to involve Forestier and they go for a drive in his flashy yellow car and Forestier holds Vom Dorp up in the air to feel the sensation of speed and freedom. They go to the races and Leklou introduces them to his friend from Marseille and Paul Hamy asks Forestier if her son has a father, as he gives her a tip on a winning horse. A few days later, he meets her out of work and they kiss in an underpass.

Haenel gets a job in a sewing machine shop in Marseille and moves into her own flat. On a whim, Forestier takes unpaid leave to visit her and leaves Vom Dorp on his own, while she goes searching for Hamy. Haenel despairs of her sister for leaving the boy alone and is even more furious when she finds Hamy sleeping with Forestier and has to endure an awkward conversation over breakfast. She tells Forestier that she can't treat the place like a hotel, but she contemplates returning home soon afterwards, having discovered that Hamy is wanted by the police and has to lay low for a while. Thus, even though there had been an evident connection between them as they goofed around in the city, Forestier tells Hamy to sling his hook if he is not prepared to make her his priority.

Fearful that Forestier will lose her job, Damiens comes to fetch her and a huge row ensues, as he insists she has to settle down and get Vom Dorp enrolled in school. Forestier blames Haenel for not supporting her and she storms out to track down Hamy and go into hiding with him. A year later, there is still no sign of Forestier and Damiens shows her photo to a hitcher he picks up outside Orleans. He is now raising his grandson, but he has to take him to a psychologist after he starts getting into trouble when Damiens is away on long-haul trips. Haenel visits whenever she can and tries to help her nephew with his reading, but her own life seems to have stalled and she cuts a melancholy figure as she dances alone in a club.

Suddenly, the scene shifts to 2006 and Forestier is seen cowering on the lower bunk of a prison cell. She learns from lawyer Corinne Masiero that her son (now played by Jaime Da Cunha) has been placed with a foster family, as Damiens is away too often to care for him properly. Livid with her father for what she sees as treachery, Forestier barely acknowledges Damiensn or Haenel as they see her stand trial for assaulting a woman during a burglary and resisting arrest. Hamy got away and left her to face the music alone. But, she smiles when Haenel visits her and gives her a piece of jewellery he has sent her that is engraved with the words `I'll be there'. She wants nothing to do with Da Cunha, however, and refuses even to look at a photograph.

Eventually, Forestier is released and Haenel and Masiero are there to greet her. They drive to a motorway service station to meet with Damiens and his mate, who are en route to Calais. But the conversation is stilted and this it seems likely that he sees nothing of his daughter before she attempts suicide some months later and he weeps with Haenel at having let her down. Once she has recovered, Forestier is allowed a supervised visit with Da Cunha. But she barely recognises him and is stung when he uses the word `mum' in asking guardian Anne Le Ny if he can see the café where she is waitressing. As she waves him goodbye, Forestier knows she has lost him forever and, even though she feels cheated after the risk she took in having him, she thanks Haenel for doing such a good job in rearing him.

Despite trying to stay on the straight and narrow, Forestier cannot resist Hamy when he comes to the café and asks her to move into the house he has bought in Morocco. She slaps his face when they go back to his room and she is unnerved by the sight of the gun he now carries. But she is too much in love to refuse and she drives their car on to the ferry, while Hamy (who doesn't have a passport) slips past the customs officials and joins her on the deck. Some time later, Damiens gets a photograph of granddaughter Leyna Kerdjou Soriano and Forestier and Hamy come home for Christmas. Yet, while Forestier leaves a gift for Da Cunha on a bench in the garden, she has returned to drop a consignment of drugs hidden in her car door and inner tubes.

She goes to show Soriano her grandmother's grave and is heartbroken to see Haenel's name on the headstone. Forestier rushes round to see Damiens, but he has gone away and neighbour Manuela Gourary tells her that Haenel was killed two months ago while swerving to avoid a dog in her car. Feeling very much alone, Forestier drives to the docks with Hamy and their toddler. But a customs officer has doubts about her passport and, as she hugs Hamy, she wipes away a tear because she knows the game is up. Ironically, however, she is less alone than she has been for some time, as Damiens and Da Cunha visit her in jail and the former films the latter playing with his half-sister, as Forestier looks on proudly at the beautiful children who have made her misfiring life worthwhile.

Photographed with an edgy intimacy by Tony Harari that is complemented by Verity Susman's evocative electro-rock score and meticulously designed by Anna Falguères to convey the passage of a quarter of a century, this has been adeptly described as an elongated trailer for a non-existent mini-series. Such are the gaps in the plotline concocted by Quillévéré and Mariette Désert and pieced together by editor Thomas Marchand that the audience is constantly having to re-acquaint itself with characters who have moved on considerably since they were last encountered and this jump-cut approach to storytelling will frustrate as many as it fascinates.

Quillévéré is superbly served by her leads, with Forestier, Haenel and Damiens all inviting sympathy for misfits who try, with mixed results, to make the best of whatever fate throws at them. But, while she is to be lauded for eschewing pop psychological reasons for the family's dysfunction, the structural artifice undermines the social realism. Moreover, the tonal transitions from drama to thriller are unpersuasive. Consequently, the contention that even the grimmest existence has its sunnier moments feels trite rather than poetically authentic.

It should come as no surprise that a film about sperm donation should have spawned so many remakes. Following the success of his French-Canadian comedy Starbuck (2011), director Ken Scott roped Vince Vaughn into the Hollywood version, Delivery Man, which is currently getting a critical mauling and doing less than brisk business at the UK box office. Meanwhile, notwithstanding the existence of the Québécois original, Isabelle Doval felt that France needed its own take on the tale and, so, she has starred husband José Garcia in Fonzy, which is showing exclusively this week at the Ciné Lumière in London.

Life has scarcely improved for José Garcia in the quarter century since his 22 year-old self struggled to make his first deposit at the Vallee Fertility Clinic. Working as a delivery driver for the fish business Spanish father Gérard Hernandez runs on the outskirts of Paris with sons Laurent Mouton and Vérino, Garcia knows he has little chance of finding the €50,000 he owes to some Asian mobsters. Moreover, he suspects girlfriend Audrey Fleurot is right in thinking she would be better off raising the child alone when she announces she is pregnant. Yet, as he pours out his woes to lawyer pal and single father of four Lucien Jean-Baptiste, Garcia feels he has it in him to be a good dad and that he could turn his life around if he just catch a break.

Unfortunately, when lawyer Arnaud Tsamère shows up out of the blue, he proves to be the bearer of more bad news, as Garcia's 693 donations to the Vallee clinic have resulted in 533 children aged between 17-22 and 142 of them have joined forces to bring a class action to learn the identify of their genitor. Tsamère reassures Garcia that everything will be done to maintain his anonymity. But he also leaves an envelope containing profiles of the litigants, which Garica shows to Jean-Baptiste in the hope that he will be able to guide him through the looming crisis.

However, on discovering that one of his offspring is famous footballer Marvin Martin (the Lille star playing himself), Garcia becomes curious about some of the others. Thus, while Jean-Baptiste tries to convince him to sue Vallee for negligence, Garcia goes in search of tour guide Hugo Dessioux and goth musician Solal Forte. He also poses as a pizza delivery boy to meet Alice Belaïdi, whom he has to rush to hospital after she collapses from a drink-and-drugs cocktail. She persuades him that she was merely upset at being dumped and doesn't need to go into rehab, as it will spoil her chances of landing a prestigious internship. Mistaken for her father by the medics, Garcia has her signed into his care and he forms an equally strong bond with the severely disabled François Deblock when he visits his hostel.

Having taken sky-diving lessons in a wind tunnel from another `son', Garcia tracks down a street entertainer dressed as Superman, a beautician, a meter maid and café barman François Civil, who gets a part in a play after Garcia offers to take his shift so he can attend an audition. Feeling good about himself and the fine young people he has helped create, Garcia tells Jean-Baptiste that he intends being their guardian angel. Yet he hides the truth from Fleurot when he accompanies her for her first scan and cheers her up in a park playground by promising to be with her every step of the way. But he is also still deep in debt and pleads for more time to find the cash after throwing away the cannabis he had been growing in the hope of scoring some quick bucks.

As Jean-Baptiste brushes up on the finer points of the law in preparation for pleading that his client was mentally unstable when he made so many deposits, Garcia goes to a meeting of the 142 to see what he is up against. Several of those he has already met recognise him and he convinces them he is Deblock's adoptive father. The eccentric Forte has his doubts, however, and follows Garcia home, where he threatens to expose him unless he is allowed to stay. Tired of being picked on for being different, Forte wants to know which character traits he inherited from his genitor. But he quickly alienates Garcia, especially when he gets selected for his football teams and promptly picks up the ball and runs into the goal to score a try.

Yet, when Garcia takes Fleurot to meet his family for Sunday lunch, his past in an 80s punk band emerges, as does the fact that he paid for a second honeymoon in Venice just before his mother died. As they leave, Fleurot wonders if she has misjudged Garcia and hopes he is not hiding any bigger secrets from her. But Forte is furious with him for going behind his back and forces him to go to a picnic with the 142 the following weekend and Garcia has such a wonderful time as they play games, eat and cover themselves in multi-coloured powder paints that he drives off to fetch Deblock so that everyone can be together for the first time.

Despite Jean-Baptiste cautioning him to be more circumspect when the picnic makes the papers, Garcia is keen to reveal himself as Fonzy (the alias he took from the ultra-cool character played by Henry Winkler in the 50s pastiche sitcom, Happy Days). However, he changes his mind when he hears some of the kid calling the donor a pervert on a radio talk show and he is equally taken aback when Fleurot denounces Fonzy as an oddball. But he finally comes clean when Hernandez is held underwater by the Asians demanding their dough and he accepts his share in the fish business from his doting father to pay them off.

Recognising that being a parent is going to be expensive, Garcia instructs Jean-Baptiste to sue Vallee for malpractice and his case runs simultaneously with the 142 claim in a neighbouring courtroom. In a dual victory, the judges uphold his right to anonymity and award him €200,000 in damages. But Garcia is so touched by the reaction of his brood outside the courthouse at simply wanting to meet and thank him for making their lives possible that, even though he knows he will lose his payout, he sends culpability emails to everyone in the group.

With perfect timing, Fleurot goes into labour and Garcia is overjoyed to have a son. Hernandez calls him to come to the front of the hospital, where he finds dozens of kids waiting to say hello. Garcia introduces them all to his father and brothers and goes inside to own up to Fleurot. She is miffed that he uses a marriage proposal to soften the blow, but accepts him and his extended clan, as it means they will never be short of babysitters. As the film ends in a freeze frame, Garcia lines everyone up for a photograph for the family album.

Bearing similarities to Jerry Rothwell's 2010 documentary, Donor Unknown, Ken Scott's Starbuck centred on Polish immigrant Patrick Huard working for his butcher father in Montreal, while Delivery Man saw Vince Vaughn sticking to the same trade in New York. It's not as though Dorval and co-scenarists Garcia and Karine de Demo are trying to pull the wool over anyone's eyes, as they credit Scott and Martin Petit's original script. But they add too little new material to make this seem an entirely necessary exercise. Indeed, it seems astonishing that a woman director could let Fonzy off the hook with the mother of his new child so easily.

But the moral consequences of the prolific donation and rash institutional utilisation of sperm is almost of secondary concern here, as Dorval keeps things remorselessly upbeat, as Garcia learns the true meaning of fatherhood from Hernandez, Jean-Baptiste and his own guardian angelling. Garcia certainly makes an affable anti-hero and the support playing is solid. Moreover, Dorval avoids mawkishness even in potentially tricky scenes such as the first meeting with the wheelchair-bound Deblock and the nocturnal tête-à-tête with Hernandez. But, while this may be superior to the Hollywood knock-off, it lacks the coarse charm of the Huard version and is nowhere near as funny.

Chilean Esteban Larraín examines a different crisis of conscience in La Pasión de Michelangelo/The Passion of Michelangelo, which harks back to 1983 and the case of Michelangelo Poblete, a 14 year-old from Villa Alemana near Valparaíso who claimed to be able to commune with the Virgin Mary  Echoes of Luis Buñuel and Federico Fellini reverberate around this laudably restrained reconstruction, which not only examines the claims of the boy, but also the attempts made by General Augusto Pinochet's regime to exploit the phenomenon in order to distract the Catholic population from the social and economic ramifications of a decade of oppressive rule.

Dispatched by Bishop Ramón Núñez to discover whether there is any truth in orphan Sebastián Ayala's claims to have spoken with Mary, the Mother of God, Father Patricio Contreras arrives in the remote mountainous village to meet with parish priest Luis Alarcón, who has taken it upon himself to protect the youth from the prying media and demanding crowds. Pushing his way through the crowds on the hillside, Contreras sees Ayala gazing into the sky and claiming that Mary is visible within a cloud formation. When the lad starts bleeding from the forehead, as though pierced by an invisible crown of thorns, the faithful are more convinced than ever and his sanctity is seemingly proven beyond all doubt when the stigmata is accompanied by the gift of tongues.

Despite the devotion of a throng numbering some 10,000, Contreras remains sceptical and his misgivings are shared by photojournalist Roberto Farías, an atheist who despairs of the fact that wife Catalina Saavedra is convinced by Ayala, even when he starts proclaiming the Virgin's support for the Pinochet government. Communist mayor Luis Dubó is more pragmatic, as he sells souvenirs in his shop because it would be folly not to take advantage of the trading opportunities.

Contreras invites Ayala to Santiago to be questioned by leading theologians. But it is becoming clear to the cleric that Ayala is starting to understand the power at his disposal and is dismayed when the boy gathers a dozen disciples around him. He also comes to question the motives of Fr Farías, whose affection for Ayala may not be entirely spiritual. Moreover, as a growing number of shady figures descend upon Peñablanca, Contreras begins to suspect that Ayala is no longer acting alone and that he is being helped in maintaining the illusion that Mary now considers him her son.

Ultimately, the believers becomes impatient in demanding miracles and, even though he has refused to give him the Church's blessing, Contreras remains to rescue Ayala from the mob's furious sense of betrayal. In real life, Poblete disappeared for two decades before returning as the transgendered Karole Romanoff, who claimed descent from the Tsars of Russia. By now a hopeless alcoholic, his claims were quickly dismissed and he died at the age of 42 in 2008 and this fall from grace reinforced the notion that he had been a charlatan all along.

Esteban Larraín is less judgemental, however, as, while he avers that Poblete was anything but a holy innocent, he does highlight the extent to which he was used by the church, state, media and local community for their own ends. Yet, despite the spartan approach that reflects Larraín's background in documentary, this lacks the cutting edge that his namesake Pablo Larraín brought to No (2012) and it is interesting to note the debt claimed to such Italian comedy directors as Mario Monicelli and Dino Risi, as well as such Third Cinema icons as the Brazilian, Glauber Rocha.

The performances are admirable, as is Tevo Díaz's cinematography, which makes telling contrasts between the open spaces of Cerro Membrillar and the confines of Santiago. But, while Larraín creditably demonstrates why the desperate might buy into such a questionable story, he doesn't always make it clear how long Poblete managed to extend what appears to have been a charade, while his reluctance to delve into relationship between faith and power and the culpability of the populace in its own deception slightly takes the shine off an otherwise engrossing picture.

Rama Burshtein takes viewers into another unfamiliar world in Fill the Void, an insider look at the Haredi community that earned Hadas Yaron the Best Actress prize at the Venice Film Festival. What makes this picture so special is that it is the first feature for general audiences written and directed by an ultra-Orthodox Jewish woman. However, this is not Burshtein's debut, as the New York-born, Tel Aviv-raised secular convert spent several years making films for the Orthodox community, some of which were intended for women only audiences. It may be impossible to find the titles of any of these items online, but this technically accomplished and thematically provocative Jane Austen-influenced saga puts Burshtein immediately into the front ranks of current female film-makers.

At the height of the Purim celebrations, 18 year-old Hadas Yaron is about to see the prospective husband her parents have chosen for her for the first time. However, before the meeting can take place, her sister, Renana Raz, dies while giving birth to her son and the family is plunged into despair. As son-in-law Yiftach Klein's parents live in Belgium, they declare that he should come home to search for a new bride. But Irit Sheleg is so distraught at losing contact with her grandson that she persuades rabbi husband Chaim Sharir to suggest that Klein should marry Yaron.

Initially against the idea, as she wishes to wed a man who is her virginal equal, Yaron is mindful of the duty she owes to Sheleg and wary of ending up an old maid like armless aunt Razia Israely and neighbour Hila Feldman. But, while Sharir is too crushed to offer worthwhile advice and Klein (who favours the plan) urges her to take Israely's advice and follow her heart, Yaron eventually reaches a decision that is bound to divide the audience.

Sensitively photographed in shallow focus by Asaf Sudry, this may be designed to put a positive spin upon Haredic life. But it is much more subtle and persuasive than, say, Gidi Dar's Ushpizin (2004), whose ultra-Orthodox cast was guided by a secular director, while the reverse is the case here. Using Chani Gurewitz's costumes to contrast conformity with individuality, Burshtein makes this a tale of choice rather than custom or coercion that insists that women are never entirely subordinate, in spite of the rules and duties governing their daily routines.  The performances are admirable, but the most fascinating aspect is the script, as, while, the dialogue allows the characters to express themselves freely, Burshstein advocates an uncritical acceptance of Haredi conservatism.

A very different view of Israel is presented by Aharon Keshales and Navot Papushado in Big Bad Wolves, a grimly comic revenge thriller that considerably enhances the reputation the co-directors forged with Israel's first horror movie, Rabies (2010). Once again, they refuse to play by the genre rules, as they present bruiser cop Lior Ashkenazi opening his inquiry into the disappearance of a young girl in a red dress playing hide and seek in the woods by hiring a couple of thugs to beat seven shades out of milquetoast teacher Rotem Keinan, who has been identified by one of the missing girl's playmates. Ashkenazi is convinced that Keinan is responsible for a string of attacks. But phonecam footage of his unconventional questioning finds its way online and he is put on gardening leave by commissioner Dvir Benedek and boss Menashe Noy just as the girl's headless corpse is found with her underwear around her ankles.

Unaware that Ashkenazi has no intention of staying home and is pumping sidekicks Guy Adler and Gur Bentwich for information, grieving father Tzahi Grad is furious that the investigation has stalled and has estate agent Nati Kluger show him a property in an Arab area with a soundproofed basement. Moreover, shortly after Ashkenazi Tasers the hapless and also suspended Keinan's little dog, Grad abducts both men and tortures the teacher so hideously that even the maverick cop objects. He is bound and gagged for his trouble and Grad continues selecting implements from a tool table (that includes hammers, pliers and blowtorches) in a merciless bid to force Keinan to reveal the whereabouts of the missing head. As a weekend father himself, Ashkenazi feels some pity when he learns that Keinan is prevented from seeing his daughter by his ex-wife. Indeed, he is beginning to suspect he might be innocent after all when things take an even darker turn when grandfather Doval'e Glickman arrives bearing chicken soup from his wife, Rivka Michaeli (who thinks her little boy is unwell), and lends a hand with the persecution, having eventually established which of the two hostage he's supposed to be maiming.

A phone call between Grad and a worried Michaeli is one of many darkly amusing moments, as Grad seeks to exact eye-for-eye vengeance. At one point, Keinan buckles (as part of a ruse by the increasingly uncomfortable Ashkenazi to free him) and gives a location that results in Grad and the cop having an encounter with horse rider Kais Nashif that even tosses the Palestinian question into the mix (and makes the expertise in sadistic interrogation methods learned while serving with the Israeli Defence Force seem all the more chilling). But such is the relentless nastiness of both the case under scrutiny and the vigilante methods used to prove a guilt that may be entirely baseless that this makes for increasingly disconcerting viewing, right down to the bleak twist that sees Ashkenazi return home having saved Keinan, only to discover that his own daughter has gone missing. .

The performances are wholly committed and as knowing as Haim Frank Ilfman's booming Herrmannesque score and Giora Bejach's gruesomely handsome visuals. But while some of the gallows wit treads a fine line (a homophobic exchange about rape is decidedly dubious) and the depiction of the brutality is sometimes over-prurient, Keshales and Papushado succeed in sustaining the moral ambiguity and, by so doing, implicate the audience in every sickening blow, which was not always the case in the recent Hollywood drama, Prisoners, in which fathers Hugh Jackman and Terrence Howard united to coerce a confession out of the mentally challenged Paul Dano when their daughters vanish. Curiously, this was directed by Quebecois Denis Villeneuve, who must have been aware of a couple of variations on the same theme that were released in his native Canada in 2010: Robert Lieberman's The Tortured and Daniel Grou's Seven Days.

Also operating on a small budget, Takashi Miike demonstrates considerable control in 13 Assassins, a 2010 remake of a 1963 Eichi Kudo samurai adventure that shows the prolific maverick reining in his tendency towards excess to fashion a heartfelt homage to the kind of classical chambara picture produced by such masters as Akira Kurosawa. Boasting exceptional contributions by cinematographer Nobuyasu Kita, production designer Yuji Hayashida, costumer Kazuhiro Sawataishi, editor Kenji Yamashita and composer Kôji Endô, this is a satisfyingly complex tale of court intrigue and violent vengeance that proves that visceral action sequences can be shot without shakicam and assembled without obfuscating flash cuts.

In the mid-1840s, Japan is ruled by the Tokugawa shogunate. However, the regime's reputation is seriously damaged when the shogun's spoilt half-brother, Gorô Inagaki, murders nobleman Koshiro Matsumoto's son (Takumi Saito) and rapes his daughter-in-law (Mitsuki Tanimura) and drives kinsman Masaaki Uchino to commit hara-kiri. Realising that raising the matter with the Shogun could bring an end to decades of peace, high-ranking courtier Mikijiro Hira decides to dispose of Inagaki and his retinue and asks revered samurai Kôji Yakusho to assemble a trusted team to complete the mission.

Aware that Inagaki is protected by his onetime dojo friend Masachika Ichimura, Yakusho calls upon the services of police inspector Ikki Sawamura and his assistants Yûma Ishigaki and Kôen Kondô, as well as Hira's loyal lieutenant Hiroki Matsukata and his aides Sosuke Takaoka and Seiji Rokkaku. He also enlists apprentice Tsuyoshi Ihara, the intrepid Ikki Namioka, novice Masataka Kubota, pragmatic veteran Arata Furuta (who asks for his fee up front to purchase a headstone for his late wife and enjoy a little luxury before it's too late). Most surprisingly, however, Yakusho also persuades dissolute nephew Takayuki Yamada to quit gambling and honour the family name.

Riding out across the muddy terrain, the posse is soon ambushed by a rag-tail mob hired by Ichimura. But, while the novices are quickly dispatched, Yakusho decides to take a more circuitous route through marshland and forest to throw his adversary off the trail. He also sends Sawamura ahead to buy out the residents of Ochiai so he can turn the entire village into a booby trap. But the closer Inagaki gets to danger, the more he relishes the anticipation and he even allows Matsumoto to block his path and divert him directly into Yukusho's clutches.

Hunter Yûsuke Iseya has swollen the assassins' ranks to the requisite thirteen by the time that Ichimura realises he's been outmanoeuvred. But Inagaki is so taken by the sight of slaughter that he vows to start a civil war once he has vanquished Yakusho to satisfy his bloodlust. However, as the 200-strong force begins to fall foul of the ingenious network of barriers and barrages, it becomes clear that Inagaki is going to have to put his own life on the line if he is to survive.

The scale, slickness and audacity of Yuji Hayashida's sets are crucial to the success of the devastating 45-minute denouement, as the suspenseful prelude finally ends and battle commences. But, for all the intricacy of the mechanical wooden props and the precise swordsmanship of the athletic cast, the gruesome noise of butchery produced by Kenji Shibazaki's sound effects unit leaves the deepest impression.

That said, this never approaches the Japsploitation goriness of the Zatoichi, Hanzo the Razor and Lone Wolf and Cub franchises and Miike's self-control is almost the most impressive thing about the entire enterprise. His use of bleak humour is particularly well judged, most notably in allowing Inagaki to revel in such pitiless acts of villainy as firing arrows from point blank range into cowering human targets. But he also questions the unconditional obedience demanded by the Bushido Code and the extents to which honour is the preserve of the privileged and those in power always know what is best for their minions.

The usually temperate Hirokazu Kore-eda surprisingly succumbs to melodramatics in Like Father, Like Son, a baby swapping saga that comes hard on the heels of Mira Nair's adaptation of Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children. This has long been a common plot device in everything from classic novels to cornball telenovelas and it is rather surprising to see such an astute commentator on the modern family resorting to such a hackneyed gambit. Yet, even though this is Kore-eda's weakest domestic drama, he is still such an assured storyteller and so gifted a director of children that this is not without interest, even though his previous picture, I Wish (2011), was another study of antithetical households, albeit one seen from the perspective of brothers trying to reunite their estranged parents.

Workaholic architect Masaharu Fukuyama and his dutiful wife Machiko Ono are trying to get six year-old son Keita Ninomiya into an exclusive elementary school. Fukuyama has taught the boy to fib about how he taught him to fly a kite on a happy camping trip and their application seems set to be accepted when an anomaly arises over a blood test. A hurried DNA check reveals that Fukuyama is not Ninomiya's father and the hospital confirms that his biological son, Hwang Sho-gen, has been raised, along with their other two children, by suburban appliance salesman Lily Franky and his wife Yoko Maki.

Fukuyama persuades Franky into suing the hospital and they agree on some weekend visits to get to know their natural sons. Much to Fukuyama's frustration, however, Ninomiya rather enjoys the free-and-easy atmosphere of Franky's cramped home, while Hwang finds it difficult to cope with Fukuyama's fussy restrictions. Feeling he could offer both boys a better start in life, Fukuyama consults with his lawyer about adopting Ninomiya and even contemplates accusing Franky and Maki of being bad parents, even though this might entail them losing custody of their other kids.

However, when Fukuyama broaches the subject of making it worth the parsimonious Franky's while to sign over Ninomiya, he is so insulted that the pair are barely on speaking terms when the court date comes around and a nurse admits that she switched the infants in a fit of pique because she was having such a tough time with her own stepchildren. Naturally, the judge finds in favour of the plaintiffs. But the problem still remains of what to do with the boys.

Fukuyama consults his own frosty father, Isao Natsuyagi, who insists that bloodline is everything and Franky agrees to go along with the exchange. However, Hwang is so unhappy living with Fukuyama and Ono that he runs away and, even when he returns and starts to bond with his new father, he admits that he would much rather be with Franky. Trying to do the right thing, Fukuyama returns some photographs to Ninomiya and they have such an unsettling effect on the child that he also runs away. But all ends well, with both families promising to stay in touch and celebrating with a party in Franky's shop.

Steering well clear of the savage class satire that made Étienne Chatiliez's similarly themed Life Is a Long Quiet River (1988) so raucously enjoyable, this may be more convoluted than earlier Kore-eda family outings like Nobody Knows (2004) and Still Walking (2008). But he dots the action with moments of tranquil, Ozu-like contemplation and conspires cunningly with production designer Keiko Mitsumatsu and set decorator Akiko Matsuba to use the forbiddingly chic and chaotically cosy abodes to highlight the contrasts between the competing fathers. Disappointingly, he relegates the mothers to the margins and also rather dubiously aligns good parenting with larking around and discipline with suffocating nurture.

Yet, while Fukuyama is rather obviously set up as the fall guy with childhood hang-ups of his own, he gives such a plausible performance that it is possible to feel more sympathy for him in his bourgeois moral confusion than it is for Franky in his cheerful, working-class acceptance of fate. But while the focus is often on the grown-ups, Kore-eda  also slyly shows how readily Ninomiya and Hwang acclimatise to their new surroundings and it is these small details that often prove more poignant than the more stage-managed confrontations.

Finally, the scene shifts to the 1980s for Shuichi Okita's The Story of Yonosuke. This adaptation of a Shuichi Yoshida novel is a picture with a sting in its tale, although it comes partway through and is less a coup de cinéma than the confirmation of a suspicion that makes the action that flows around it feel all the more amusing and moving. Reuniting with Okita from The Chef of South Polar (2009) and The Woodsman and the Rain (2011), Kengo Kora excels as the rube whose guileless geniality touches everyone he meets. But, even though art director Norifumi Ataka and costume designer Haruki Koketsu recreate the period with unfussy fidelity, this is neither a nostalgic wallow nor an asset price bubble allegory with contemporary resonance. Instead, it's a thoughtful treatise on the impact individuals have on those around them, whether they are aware of it or not

Arriving in Tokyo from a small port in Nagasaki Prefecture to study business administration at Hosei University, Kengo Kora is resoundingly a fish out of water. Nevertheless, he is entirely unaware of his social awkwardness and his willingness to make friends and get stuck in quickly ingratiates him into a social circle whose members laugh with and at him without malice. His closest pals are the eager Sosuke Ikematsu and the cheery Aki Asakura, whom he meets respectively at the matriculation ceremony and a freshers' week salsa club meeting. Throwing himself into dancing without a perceptible sense of rhythm, Kora helps matchmake Akasura and Ikematsu, who marry and have a daughter. Yet, in spite of their onetime closeness, the couple pause one night 16 years after they left college and wonder what has happened to Kora in the interim. 

As his confidence grows, Kora attracts more loyal buddies, including flashy womaniser Go Ayano (who initially considers him an irritation until he gets on to his wavelength) and high-class escort Ayumi Ito, who works at the hotel where Kora has a part-time job as a bellboy. Yet, while he develops a crush on Ito while keeping an eye on her, he becomes the object of the affections of Yuriko Yoshitaka, the sheltered daughter of an industrial tycoon who is even more naive than he is. Initially, she regards Kora as something of a curio to show to her chic friends. But, from the moment he rescues her from the pool during a party at her family home, she becomes increasingly obsessed. Indeed, when she comes to the provinces to spend the summer with her, his parents are bemused by her gushing devotion.

Yet not even Yoshitaka can say for sure what happened to Kora after he became a cameraman. The selfless tragedy that befalls the ordinary bloke whom everybody liked but never really got to know is the least significant aspect of this witty and thoughtful picture. In fact, Kora is almost a secondary character, whose influence is more important than his words or deeds and whose ability to handle any situation with insouciant aplomb matters more than his personality or psychology. Yet, such is the disarming charm of this blithe spirit that viewers will remain intrigued by him and his effect on his friends long after the truth about his fate is revealed.

Specialising in outsiders, Okita ensures Kora never seems overly quaint or buffoonish. He and screenwriter Shiro Maeda judge the story's bittersweetness with equal finesse. But the pacing is sometimes a touch too deliberate, while Ryuto Kondo's cinematography and Ren Takada's score suffer from a similar awareness. The performances are excellent, however, with Yoshitaka making the perfect foil for Kora, as she mirrors his gaucheness from across the class divide.