Parky at the Pictures (In Cinemas 26/10/2017)

Following a dockside assassination at the end of a conversation about fish, Han Jae-ho (Sol Kyung-gu) greets protégé Jo Hyun-soo (Yim Si-wan) outside Gyeonngi Prison in a flashy red sportscar. He makes him a welcome home gift of a blonde Russian prostitute and we flash back three years to see how the cocky Hyun-su made an impression on Jae-ho by causing a ruckus after winning a face-slapping competition with Jung-sik (Kim Ji-hoon) by using an artfully concealed punch. They return to the headquarters of crime boss Chairman Ko (Lee Kyoung-young) as no-nonsense police chief Cheon In-sook (Jeon Hye-jin) stubs her cigarette out in a helping of Beluga caviar and warns Ko Byung-chul that she will be ready to pounce whenever he makes a mistake.

But Ko is a shrewd operator and, when nephew Byung-gab (Kim Hee-won) tries to pick on Hyun-soo a fortnight after he joins the ranks, he humiliates him in front of the entire gang for being as recklessly foolish as his father. Having grown up with Byung-gab in an orphanage, Jae-ho enjoys the confrontation and mocks him when he finds him snivelling in his car.

As jailed pastor Jang (Park Soo-Young) had explained to Hyun-soo in jail, Jae-ho is not a man to be messed with, as he had taken over the lucrative cigarette trade at Gyeonngi within hours of his arrival. Indeed, he became such a smooth operator that he was allowed banquets with his oppos that resembled Leonardo Da Vinci's painting of the Last Supper. But kingpin Kim Sung-han (Heo Jun-ho) had proved a tougher nut to crack. When Jae-ho approached him with an offer to go 50-50 on the cigarette situation, Kim had used his friendship with the prison security chief (Jin Seon-kyu) to have him beaten with clubs and tossed into solitary. Moreover, when Jae-ho is released, Kim has Jung-sik stalk him with a shiv, only for Hyun-soo to come to his rescue in the corridor and earn a carton of cigarettes for revealing that his mother (Nam Gi-ae) had always told him to stick up for the little guy.

But Hyun-soo also has a plan to use Jae-ho's phone to doctor some photographs framing the security chief for profiting from the cigarette business. He bristles at their impudence and smashes the phone. But the threat of Jae-ho releasing the images to the prosecutor persuades him to let Jae-ho wreak his revenge by pouring boiling pork stock over the heavily tattooed Kim's legs and face, even though he has revealed that Ko had paid him to eliminate Jae-ho because he had messed up with a drug shipment.

Nearly five weeks have passed since Hyun-soo was released, Ko still refuses to believe that Kim died of a heart attack. But Byung-gab swears that he checked up on the details and Ko tuts that his nephew is too close to Jae-ho to see his faults and suggests that he is losing patience with the stray dog who has never learned how to show gratitude. At that moment, Jae-ho smashes a baseball through Ko's window and he pretends to laugh off the incident. But he is convinced that Jae-ho and Hyun-soo are up to no good and tells Byung-gab that he intends putting Jae-ho down after the next big deal with his Russian contacts.

We now flashback three years and four months to see Chief Cheon showing her Busan superior (Kim Ik-tae) a video advertising the fish business that Ko uses as a front for his illegal activities. She explains that he used to provide strippers for a club owned by Vladivostock mobster Vitali Gegard (Igor N. Maslov), but is now his partner in smuggling meth, cocaine and hashish. Yet, while her boss wants her to pursue media-friendly cases like a pop star bust, Cheon is determined to nail Ko and she promises rising rookie Hyun-soo that she will find his sick mother a new kidney if he agrees to go undercover as a swaggering wannabe and latch himself on to Jae-ho while behind bars. Desperate to help his mother, Hyun-soo agrees and he goes about ingratiating himself.

After two years, Cheon informs Hyun-soo that she has found a donor and he is overjoyed. But, when she discovers that another undercover cop has been shot (after the fish conversation), she has the mother shot in the street and refuses to allow Hyun-soo to attend the funeral. Already feeling fragile because Byung-gab has informed him that he is plotting to kill Ko, Jae-ho tries to console his young friend in his cell late at night. But he responds with fists and they have a titanic struggle before Hyun-soo gives in. Yet Jae-ho pays for the funeral and arranges for Hyun-soo to get a day's furlough from the security chief. On his return, he is glad to see Jae-ho, who tells him how he survived his mother's efforts to poison the father who beat them both whenever he drank and how this taught him to trust circumstances rather than people. He also suggests that they hook up on the outside, but Hyun-soo confesses that he is a cop.

Returning to the present, 127 days have now passed since Hyun-soo was released and Cheon listens in on a recording made on Hyun-soo's watch when he went to reclaim some stolen customs seals from Choi Dae-hyun (Choi Byung-mo). He thinks he has the novice beaten, but Hyun-soo pins his hand to the desk with a knife and starts beating up his henchmen, while Jae-ho and Byung-gab linger on the quayside with back-up for a humdinger of a showdown that culminates in Hyun-soo repeatedly hitting Choi in the face with the watch protecting his knuckles. On returning the seals, Hyun-soo tells Ko that it was a fun assignment and he is impressed by his gung-ho attitude. But Jae-ho's laughter is uneasier, as he knows Hyun-soo and Byung-gab's secrets.

His suspicions are aroused, therefore, when Hyun-soo slips away from a meeting at Gegard's club to collect a new watch from Cheon's underling, Min-Chul (Jang In-sub). When confronted, Hyun-soo accuses him of being a pervert who tried to watch him pee and Jae-ho beats the cop up. But he has to be convinced that Hyun-soo is not setting him up and he takes him to his first hideout and reminds him of the difficulty he has in trusting people. However, he is surprised when Hyun-soo confides that he trusts Jae-ho, even though they are on opposite sides of the law.

The extent to which this trust is justified is tested by a flashback to the prison visit when Byung-gab had shown Jae-ho footage of Hyun-soo and Cheon together in an eaterie. Jae-ho had been stung by the revelation, but he had also remained convinced that Hyun-soo was a good kid and he had vowed to bait him into joining the gang. However, Cheon also has her doubts about Hyun-soo's loyalty and she has him kidnapped and doused in petrol to see whether he had gone over to the dark side. But he holds his nerve and passes on details of a 50kg haul of blue meth that Ko is lining up with the Russians. However, Cheon withholds information about the hit-and-run accident that supposedly accounted for his mother/ Returning to Jae-ho's office looking the worse for wear, Hyun-soo tries to act nonchalantly. They go to the beach and let off fireworks and Hyun-soo admits that he is struggling to come to terms with his loss. But Jae-ho reminds him that if she hadn't died, he wouldn't have paid for the funeral and they wouldn't have become friends. Hyun-soo shrugs in the passenger seat of the red sports car as dawn breaks and, shortly, afterwards, intercepts Cheon when she is out jogging to her information on Ko's deal and when and where she can pounce.

Hyun-soo has now been at large for 150 days and he is sent out in a boat when Ko drives to a rendezvous with Gegard for their D-Day deal. As the cash is being counted, however, Cheon arrives with reinforcements to arrest everyone and hold them at gunpoint while she opens the packing cases to top off her triumph. But they contain sex toys and Ko and Gegard can barely conceal their disdain as they repair to the latter's office to complete the transaction. Seemingly, Jae-ho had hit upon the idea to exploit Hyun-soo's status to lure Cheon to the warehouse so that they would be able to smuggle the meth into the port using floating sacks. He calls Hyun-soo to check the merchandise and, the moment they know they have scored a huge deal, Jae-ho and Byung-gab turn on Ko and slaughter him and his bodyguards.

But Cheon refuses to take defeat lying down and, even though Min-chul seems to accept that Hyun-soo was twice shot in the arm during the operation (in fact, Hyun-soo agreed to let Jae-ho shoot him to reinforce his story), she insists on bringing him in and showing him CCTV footage of Jae-ho rushing to his mothers dying body in the middle of a quiet road. Hyun-soo leaps at her and tries to throttle her and asks why she is treating him so badly and she sneers back that she is merely doing her job and now needs him to do his and arrest his mother's killer.

As he sits alone in an interrogation room, Hyun-soo recalls Jae-ho's maxim about trusting circumstances rather than people. But he still interrupts a gang celebration to warn him that he is under surveillance and asks if anyone else knew he was a cop. Jae-ho casts a meaningful glance at Byung-gab, who is enjoying his new power as head of the family and oblivious to the fact Jae-ho is on the phone. But his reign is short-lived, as Jae-ho bludgeons him to death in his office after everyone has gone home and he heads for his old base to meet Hyun-soo. He has been fitted with a wire and Cheon and her team listen in from a van parked around the corner. Jae-ho sees the vehicle as he arrives and makes a joke about it as Hyun-soo urges him to pat him down to check he isn't bugging him.

As they chat, the cops close in. But Hyun-soo finds it hard to betray Jae-ho, even though he knows he killed his mother and all Jae-ho can say on the matter is that he wished Hyun-soo had not discovered the truth. Shots ring out, as the unit moves into place and Min-chul creeps into the main room to see Hyun-soo sitting on the sofa. He motions behind him and another exchange of fire follows, ending with Min-chul being executed by Jae-ho as he points a gun at Hyun-soo's forehead. Refusing to accept this deed of friendship, Hyun-soo tells Jae-ho to finish him off. But he lowers the gun and fires past his shoulder and limps out into the night.

Approaching his car, Jae-ho is mown down by Cheon in the detector van. She walks over to his crumpled body and demands to know where he has stashed the drugs. When he refuses to answer, she takes the keys to his car and is opening the boot when Hyun-soo appears from the shadows to gun her down and empty the clip into her for ruining his life. He sees Jae-ho on the ground and crouches over him. Whether out of compassion or vengeance, he suffocates him and slumps down, as he ponders what move to make next.

Byung Sung-hyun and co-scenarist Kim Min-soo pack so many twists and double-crosses into this exhausting thriller that alert viewers will start to anticipate them by refusing to take anything they see at face value. Fortunately, the splendid cast commits to the endless contrivances with deadpan aplomb, although the steely Sol Kyung-gu summons some genuine affection for both old pal Kim Hee-won and new broom Yim Si-wan. The latter manages to reciprocate (in not quite the same homoerotic manner), even after discovering the truth about the road accident, although Byung and Kim might have missed a trick by having Jae-ho discover a victim of Cheon's murderous driving. Perhaps they didn't, as it's not always possible to read between the lines on a first viewing.

Although he has often played edgy characters in his 21-year career, Sol revels in his hard-nosed villainy, while Yim continues to suggest he has made the right decision in moving on from K-Pop boy band ZE:A. Kim Hee-won is splendidly brattish as the nephew with a long-simmering grudge, but the most nuanced performance comes from Jeon Hye-jin, whose calculating cop remains largely inscrutable until the denouement.

Editors Kim Sang-bum and Kim Jae-bum merit mention for piecing the fragments together across the various timelines, while Hur Myung-hang should take a bow for the belligerent fight choreography. Composers Kim Hong-jip and Lee Jin-hee also make a boomingly versatile contribution to the action sequences, although they drift towards mawkishness in some of the quieter passages. Similarly, Cho Hyung-Rae's photography is slick without generating a particularly strong sense of place, although it's interesting to note that the scenes set in the prison exercise yard are the sunniest and most spacious in the entire picture.

Two decades again, debuting director Satoshi Kon took anime out of the realms of fantasy and into the darker reality of the psychological thriller with Perfect Blue. To mark the 20th anniversary of this landmark release, this adaptation of Yoshikazu Takeuchi's manga novel is back in cinemas to expunge the memory of Toshiki Sato's undistinguished 2002 live-action reboot and to provide a timely insight into the treatment of women in the entertainment industry.

After two and a half years at the top with the J-Pop girl group Cham, Mima Kirigoe (Junko Iwao) decides to leave to become an actress. Her last concert is disrupted by some delinquents, who are challenged by superfan Me-Mania (Masaaki Okura), who hands Mima an envelope at the end of the show. Manager Rumi Hidaka (Rica Matsumoto), who is herself a former singer, isn't convinced that Mima is making the right decision, especially as she is leaving a hit machine combo for a bit part in the crime drama series, Double Bind. But Mima feels a sense of relief, as she potters around a supermarket and returns home to chat to her mother on the phone. However, she is unsettled by the reference to the Mina's Room website in Me-Mania's letter, while she also receives an anonymous fax branding her a traitor for leaving Cham.

Rumi is amused that Mima has no idea what the Internet is, as she gazes with admiration at lead actress Eri Ochiai (Emi Shinohara), as her police psychiatrist solves a crime about a gender-conflicted serial killer who has been skinning his female victims. Agent Tadokoro (Shinpachi Tsuji) wanders over to check his new star is ready for her one-line cameo and Mima sits nervously on the set watching Eri joke around with screenwriter Shibuya (Yoku Shioya) and station boss Tejima (Yosuke Akimoto). But, just as the camera starts to roll, Tadokoro opens a fan letter addressed to Mima and it explodes. She rushes over to see blood from a head wound soaking the paper, which contains a similar message to the fax.

As Tadokoro is only slightly injured and insists on forgetting the matter, Rumi advises Mima to put it behind her and shows her how to log on to the World Wide Web in order to access the Mima's Room fansite. She is confused by the concept of `double-clipping' and complains that she finds technology baffling. But Rumi persists and teaches her how to navigate her way around the information superhighway. Yet, when she manages to find the site, Mima is shocked to discover that its faux diary passages are disconcertingly well informed and she wonders who is writing it. Meanwhile, ex-bandmates Yukiko (Emiko Furukawa) and Rei (Shiho Niiyama) go from strength to strength and Rumi tries to persuade Tadokoro to pull Mima from Double Bind and put her back in Cham. But he is adamant and reveals that the TV people want to change Mima's image, so that she becomes edgier. However, her fans are sceptical about her acting talent and Me-Mania overhears them complaining in a bookshop and on the subway. Mima catches sight of him and is momentarily taken aback, as she takes a lift to Tadokoro's office.

Having already been against a plotline in which Mima's character poses for some salacious photographs, Rumi is aghast when Shibuya proposes a strip club rape scene. But Mima is intent on making it as an actress and agrees to do the scene. She feels uneasy on the studio set, even though the actor playing her assailant is kind to her, and stares into the lights while waiting for the cameras to be re-set. It all proves too much for Rumi, however, he flees the director's gallery in tears and Mima herself feels violated by the end of the take. She arrives home to find her goldfish have died and her Cham image taunts her from the mirror about making reckless decisions. Yet, having lashed out and knocked some possessions off a shelf and flopped on her bed, Mima looks up to see her fish swimming happily in their tank.

She does press interviews about her change of direction and swears that she is pleased with the way her transition is going. But Me-Mania keeps hearing negative comments and, as he taps away on his computer keyboard in his bedroom, Mima becomes increasingly spooked by the accuracy of the entries on the Mima's Room diary page. As she reads, her Cham self mocks her for being debased before floating through the window and down the streets like a malevolent fairy. Yet, while Mima is shaken by these hallucinations, she is terrified when Shibuya is brutally stabbed to death in a lift with one of Mima's old hits blarng out from a boombox. She suggests to Tadokoro that the murder might be related to the letter bomb, but he dismisses the theory out of hand.

Despite being conflicted about her new direction, Mima agrees to do a softcore photo shoot with Murano (Masashi Ebara). In her dressing-room Cham Mima admonishes her for having thrown away her wholesome fame and she claims she is going to rejoin the band and salvage their reputation. Equally dismayed by the topless shots he sees in a magazine, Me-Mania pictures the old Mima singing alongside Yukiko and Rei and he stares intently at the stage, as though he is able to see the phantom Mima back in the fold.

He also starts showing up on the Double Bind set, as the storylines begin to merge with Mima's living nightmare. One scene has her being reassured by a doctor that she isn't being stalked by her alter ego. Yet, when she pops into a radio station to watch Rei and Yukiko recording their new show, she sees Cham Mima sitting at the table with them and chases her through the building and out into the street before she wakes after being hit on a zebra crossing by a van being driven by Me-Mania.

Rumi brings her breakfast and they chat about her courage in committing to her new career. But she is distracted on set and messes up her lines. She wakes from what seems like the same nightmare and is surprised to find Rumi at the door with some pastries. When she apologises for not seeing much of her, Rumi reminds her that they had breakfasted the day before and Mima cuts her hand on her broken tea cup, as she tries to get a fix on what is real and what is illusory.

Once again, the TV storyline seems to overlap with real life and Mima wakes from another troubled night to learn that Murano has been stabbed in the eye during a pizza delivery. As she processes the news, Mima has a vague feeling that she might have been responsible for the attack and, having found a bloodied shirt in a bag in her wardrobe, she becomes increasingly unsure whether she can even trust herself. Yet, she continues filming, as the plot twists to make her character a schizophrenic who has been seeking to compensate for the death of her model sister by killing those responsible for her death. There is loud cheering on the set as Eri and Mima deliver their final lines and Eri jokes that she can stop pretending now.

While Rumi waits to drive Mima home, she returns to her dressing-room, only to have her path blocked by Me-Mania. He pulls a knife and reveals that he has been sending emails to the Mima's Room site in a bid to protect her Cham image. She asks if he killed Shibuya and Murano and he pushes her to the floor and rips open her blouse. Wriggling free, Mima hides in a prop room. But Me-Mania finds another entrance and they tumble on to a soundstage. He binds her feet and is preparing to rape her when Mima reaches for a hammer on the floor and crashes it into the side of his skull. Me-Mania collapses and, yet, when Rumi comes to find Mima and she goes to show her the corpse, there is no sign of her stalker.

Waking in a room that looks strangely similar to her own, but is in a completely different building, Mima tries to phone Takokoro. But he is dead alongside Me-Mania and Mima realises that Rumi has been behind her ordeal all along. She enters the room dressed as Cham Mima and tries to behave as though nothing is amiss. But she allows her anger at Mima corrupting her pop idol status to seep through and she declares that she has decided to kill the fake Mima in order to restore her lost innocence. As she lunges at Mima, Rumi stabs her in the shoulder and they tussle before Mima manages to escape on to the balcony. She jumps down on to a neighbouring roof and calls for help from the oblivious strangers below. Convinced she is Cham Mima, Rumi skips across the rooftops and pursues Mima as she clambers down to street level. However, when Mima rips off the Cham wig, Rumi becomes disorientated and staggers into the road. She mistakes the headlights of a truck for spotlights and is only saved by Mima dashing out in front of the hurtling vehicle, whose shocked driver jumps down from the cab to check they are both okay.

As the film ends, Mima visits Rumi in a psychiatric hospital, where she remains under the illusion that she is Cham Mima. Some nurses spot Mima as she leaves and wonders why such a star would come to a place like this. They conclude she must be a lookalike. But, as she removes her sunglasses and looks in the rearview mirror of her car, Mima is glad to be able to reveal that she is herself again.

Switching to video animation after the 1995 Kobe earthquake necessitated budget cuts, Satoshi Kon and screenwriter Sadayuki Murai decided to stray from the source material in order to explore the trivialisation of Japanese culture, the notion of performance and the preconceptions of female perfection. Kon was abetted by `special supervisor' Katsuhiro Otomo, who had helped boost the global profile of Japanimation with Akira (1988). But Kon would revisit the themes of illusion and reality in Millennium Actress (2002) and Paprika (2006) before his tragically early death at the age of 46 from pancreatic cancer in 2010.

Seen today, the graphics have a pleasing simplicity, as Kon employs key action techniques and rostrum camera movements to inject some dynamism into the largely static visuals. But, even though he occasionally comes close to overkill, he laudably takes dramatic and aesthetic chances in blurring the lines between what Mima sees, experiences and imagines, as she struggles to shed both her old self and fan impressions of who she is in reinventing her persona. Given the ongoing furore about the sexual harassment of actresses, the picture has an unexpected relevance. But, while nostalgics will be delighted to see this on the big screen again, one suspects that too much pixellated water has flowed under the anime bridge for this old school classic to win too many new converts.

Taking the found footage picture into radically new and often terrifying territory, war photographer-turned-film director Richard Parry builds the first film drama around the high-flying worlds of parachute and wingsuit jumping in Base. Having studied how adrenaline impacts on war zone photographers in his 2008 documentary, Killer Image: Shooting Robert King (aka Blood Trail), Parry and co-writer Tom Williams originally planned to focus on a BASE-jumping serial killer in this fictional follow up to South West 9 (2001) and A Night in the Woods (2011). However, he decided to tone things down and concentrate on what motivates thrill seekers to risk their lives and, sadly, the resulting picture came to serve as a tribute to its star, Alexander Polli, as the Italian-Norwegian daredevil was killed at the age of 31 after crashing into a tree while jumping in the French Alps in August 2016.

Preceding the action are a quotation from A Midsummer Night's Dream - `My Soul is in the sky' - and a caption informing us that people who step off an edge are divided into those who want to die and those who want to live. We then cut to Alexander Polli and Carlos Briceño Schutte preparing to jump off a precipice above Rio de Janeiro. Schutte advises the headstrong Polli to stand further forward to avoid dashing himself on the rocks and he leaps into the air in his wingsuit. A GoPro camera provides extraordinary point-of-view images of the breakneck descent before Polli pulls a ripcord and parachutes down to earth. Shutte follows fast behind him and they whoop with exhilaration on having experienced something new and dangerous and having survived.

Back at his desk, Polli explains how he films his jumps and then edits them together to help give his life meaning. A death-defying POV montage follows, as the pair jump off mountains, dams, skyscrapers and scaffolding to the pounding of a rock track designed to reinforce how cool they are. The images are truly astonishing and one can imagine getting motion sickness watching them in 3-D on an Imax screen. But, while the sequence captures something of the sensation of being able to fly like a bird and testifies to the reckless courage of Polli Schutte and their pals, those unfamiliar with the sport will wonder what the hell they are doing and how they can make a living from hurling themselves into the void.

Money doesn't seem to be a concern, however, as Schutte introduces Polli to girlfriend Julie Dray and they take a boat to an exotic island for a three-day stay. The boys complain that Dray has forgotten to pack beer and Polli enjoys teasing her. But, as he reclines on an inflatable penguin on a rock jutting into the sea, he confides to Schutte that he is doing the right thing with his life, and hopes they can continue for many more years to keep dreaded office jobs at bay. However, it seems clear from his fixation with filming Dray and then replaying the footage that Polli is allowing his emotions to get the better of him and that the group hug they have beside a campfire will be a turning point in their ménage.

Polli is putting the picture together on his laptop and he digresses to show us home movies with the father (Richard Heap) he worshipped as Batman and Superman combined. But his hope that he was unbreakable proved unfounded and we are left to wonder whether he became an adrenaline junkie to honour his father's memory or cope with his loss. There's no hint of psychological fragility as Polli jumps from a microlight and holds hands with Schutte as they career down towards the beach where Dray is waiting for them. She cavorts topless in the water with the boys in a split-screen reveries played out to a dreamy ballad. However, she shoots Polli a daggers look when he asks if she is afraid when Schutte jumps and coerces him into admitting that he has his moments of apprehension in the run-up to a jump.

Further evidence of the growing crush comes as Polli erases Schutte from a Facebook photo of him swimming with Dray. But they remain a team in the air, as a friend arranges for them to jump over Rio and swoop down past Christ the Redeemer. They leap from a small plane and arrow down towards the peak of Corcovado mountain before zipping past the statue and bottoming out over the Tijuca Forest National Park. Once again, the footage is thrillingly spectacular, with the sound of the wind whipping into the built-in camera microphones. But, in terms of the narrative timeline, it stands in isolation, as we have no idea where this leap comes in relation to the island weekend.

However, the joke about getting closer to God comes back to haunt the duo when a tragedy occurs during an expedition into the snowy Swiss Alps. Schutte had not told Dray that Polli was accompanying him, as she thinks he is a bad influence. So, when they jump against Schutte's better judgement and he is killed when he clatters into some trees, Polli decides that discretion is the better part of valour and scarpers so that his buddy is found alone and Dray never finds out about his involvement in the accident. However, he keeps the footage on his laptop and is viewing it when he tries to call Dray and offer his sympathy, but he doesn't trust himself to speak. He also keeps his distance at the funeral (although he keeps his camera rolling in that far-fetched manner that unites all found footage movies in their readiness to strain credibility in order to uphold the conceit). Moreover, he keeps filming as he smashes up his laptop in frustration when Dray calls to chew him out for staying away when he was supposed to be Schutte's best friend.

Needing a new jumping partner, Polli scours the Internet and happens upon the website of Riquier Vincendeau-Verbraeken. Suitably impressed by his leap from a bridge, Polli agrees to do a coastal leap with him. But the split screen close-ups of them walking to the spot and Polli's terse replies to the small talk reveals that he is missing Schutte and needs to conquer the fears that have crept in since he perished. On landing safely, he is able to scoff as Vincendeau-Verbraeken gets his feet wet after misjudging his landing and he feels back in the game. Thus, as he packs his parachute back in his apartment, Polli is able to reduce death to a series of statistics and he consoles himself with another montage of happy days images with Schutte, which are again accompanied by a bit of acoustic schmaltz. But when he spies on Dray through the blinds of her ground-floor apartment, she seems too distressed for him to knock and Polli records his shadow slipping away into the night.

Deciding to test Vincendeau-Verbraeken's nerve, Polli invites him to the place where Schutte died. This time, there's no snow. But the novice is hesitant about making the jump and Polli almost goads him into taking the plunge. Once again, however, his companion fails to survive (with the moment that Vincendeau-Verbraeken disappears from Polli's rearview camera shot as he crashes into a bluff being chillingly matter of fact) and Polli opts not to stay with the body and a search begins for the unnamed second jumper. He juxtaposes the last minutes of each jumper on his laptop and films his own impassive reaction. But it's still not clear whether he is suppressing his pain or is psychotically heartless.

Polli phones Dray, who agrees to meet him. They sit in his car with a dashboard camera recording everything in that distinctive fish-eye way. She holds back tears before they decide to get drunk. The next morning, while still clutching a bottle, they go into the building near the Gherkin in London where Polli used to work. As a symbol of the decline of the City post-Crash and/or Brexit, the office space is empty and the pair gambol around with their cameras running. But Dray loses her sense of humour when Polli takes the lift to the roof and threatens to jump as a tribute to his dead friend and she screams hysterically as he reminds her that we all have to go at some point.

This moment of truth brings them closer and they become lovers. A montage shows them enjoying nights out, holiday trips and jumping expeditions, as Dray seems to forget her fears and embrace Polli's zest for life. He confides in voiceover that he wanted to tell her the truth, but felt a perverse excitement in withholding it because he had finally found someone to share his passion with. They become inseparable and he tells her about his father killing himself after he lost heavily in the 2008 crash. But he keeps his counsel when they return to the wintry Alps to scatter Schutte's ashes during a farewell jump that reduces Dray to tears and even makes Polli pause for thought. Consequently, when they return to their chalet, he perches Dray on the bed (with a camera running, naturally) and shows her the footage of Schutte's death and they have a blazing row, during which she threatens to jump out of the window before storming off.

However, she is waiting for him when he makes another leap and they kiss. Indeed, she insists on learning how to jump and they parachute together as a lead into a final montage that Dray has compiled, as it would appear that Polli has also been killed (although we don't learn how) and she scatters his ashes from the top of the Eiffel Tower. She opines in voiceover that she now knows that he devoted himself to jumping because that was how his father chose to die and the film ends with another quotation asserting that it's wise to have something good to look at when your life flashes before your eyes.

The closing commemoration of Polli's short life brings home the fact that we have spent the previous 80 minutes watching the last days of a dead man. He might have been acting a part (and not very convincingly at that), but the risks he took to ensure that the action is authentic make a mockery of those Hollywood superstars who swank on to chat shows and boast about doing their own stunts. Schutte also deserve praise for his aerial work, as do Karlee Ayers and Noah Bahnson, who doubled for Dray and Vincendeau-Verbraeken (during the latter's wingsuit jump). But, for all the dizzying immediacy of the visuals and the viscerality of the vertiginous thrills, this makes for drably doleful drama, with Parry, editor Dominic Stabb and composer James Edward Barker struggling to make us forget that Polli failed to see the finished film.

A very different view of the capital from the one compiled for Alex Barrett's elegiac London Symphony is presented by Aro Korol in Battle of Soho. Down the years, this defiantly bohemian enclave has featured in such contrasting snapshots as Burt Hyams's Sunshine in Soho (1956) - which focused on its cosmopolitan food shops and annual carnival - and Arnold L. Miller's celebrations of its seedier side in London in the Raw (1964) and Primitive London (1965). But this exploration of the impact of gentrification is closer in spirit to Rupert Everett's Channel 4 documentary, Love For Sale (2014), and Shola Amoo's analysis of the changing face of Brixton in A Moving Image (2016).

As the late artist Johnny Deluxe recalls in voiceover how Soho got its name from a 16th-century hunting cry and became an enclave for Huguenot weavers before becoming the capital's favourite red light district, this well-meaning, but rambling documentary opens with a bombastic orchestral blast and a series of roving camera shots through the byways and back alleys of `the dark heart' of London. References to French prostitutes in the 1940s and 50s Maltese gangsters reinforce the nostalgic neon glow, as Deluxe recalls how Soho has always been a hub for music, art and film, as well as a safe haven for those seeking to explore their sexual preferences. But, as the score kicks into jazz piano mode, Deluxe explains that, while Soho might have survived the Luftwaffe, 1970s urban planners and 1980s moral crusaders, it now faces a graver threat from property developers, fast-food franchises and the Crossrail transport scheme.

The wildly eclectic soundtrack shifts into pumping guitar rock, as we see footage of the police attempting to remove those occupying the 12 Bar Club in 2015. Deville complains that more has been done more in the past five years to gentrify and sanitise Soho than in the previous half century, as the distinctive clubs, pubs and dives have been replaced by chain brands designed to make the area safe for family fun. He continues this theme while cooking tagliatelle in his kitchen and despairing of Boris Johnson's mayoral aspiration to have London compete with New York, when it should have been left to bask in its unique atmosphere like Paris, Budapest and Amsterdam.

Rock singer Jen Brown echoes these sentiments, while reminiscing about legendary punk joint CBGB and warning that London will also soon lose the venues that nurtured the bands who helped create its musical heritage. Over shots of bridges and skyscrapers, Deluxe fears that Soho will become as Disneyfied as Times Square. But the appearance of events organiser Philip Sallon singing an LGBT variation on `New York, New York' is just one of those fighting to keep the district's distinctive character. Stephen Fry pops up to opine that London without Soho would be like a university without an arts faculty. But his brief (and poorly lit) defence of its transgressive nature feels like an ad hoc vox pop rather than a thought-out rumination.

As the scene switches to Livorno in Italy and a big band pastiches sounds, performance artist Lindsay Kemp provides a more considered memoir of a childhood visit with his mother to see a Humpty Dumpty pantomime at the Coliseum Theatre. He also recalls thinking how friendly the prostitutes were as they called out from their doorways and purrs with pleasure on recalling moving into Bateman's Buildings in the 1960s. The singer Marilyn also has fond memories of going to Soho as a teenager in a Starsky and Hutch cardigan before he became a resident, while Peter Tatchell reflects on the happy times he spent in the Outrage office, which was situated above a strip club.

Lurching into a cod 70s cop show theme, the tiresomely insistent soundtrack blares over photographer Matt Spike extolling the virtues of a place where no one bats an eyelid if he takes pictures of a butt-naked steroid muscleman, while the designer Arkadius bemoans the fact that he has chosen to leave London because it has lost its air of danger. As shots of cabaret and burlesque performers are cross-cut with views of Soho Square, actor Jeff Kristian and artist Anne Pigalle mourn the fact that a growing number of revered haunts are being turned into apartments that only the very wealthy can afford.

Kemp agrees that the heart has been ripped out, but hopes that its not too late to preserve the spirit of Soho. Yet Marilyn suggests that those viewing the area through rose-tinted lenses have failed to notice that it has always been evolving. But Deville insists that the pace of change began to speed up irrevocably around 2004 and, as a mournful cello sounds out, performers David Hodge (aka Dusty O) and Rubyyy Jones pine for Madame JoJo's house of burlesque, while entrepreneur Alex Proud declares that it's closure is symptomatic of the fact that the young no longer vote.

It's not all doom and gloom, however, as Hamish Jenkinson describes how he got the idea to open the neon gallery, Lights of Soho. Sallon flicks through books of photographs of old Soho and remembers how violent the area used to be. He wishes that a balance could be struck between modernisation and debasement. But Korol abruptly strays to the Royal Vauxhall Tavern, whose history as an entertainment venue is briskly delineated by journalist Ben Walters, who also takes us for a stroll along the Graffiti Tunnel in Leake Street. DJ-cum-performer TeTe Bang insists such places are essential to the survival of an alternative culture that dares to speak the truth to power.

Just as suddenly, we are whisked back to Soho to meet escort activist Michael Peacock, who had participated in the protests at the 12 Bar Club and learned the value of unity through diversity. As the score takes stabs at easy listening jazz and FM rock, Henry Scott-Irvine proves equally keen to preserve the Tin Pan Alley community based in Denmark Street, while Ally Clow pleads the cause of the Curzon Soho cinema, which is one of the many buildings threatened by the plans to build a Crossrail station linked to Tottenham Court Road. Save Soho campaigner Tim Arnold hopes that discussions with the developers can continue, although Howard Raymond of Raymond Estates seems torn between the need to improve the traffic problem and the fact that Soho is already pretty easy to reach without demolishing vast swathes for a potential white elephant.

Once again, Korol feels the need to stray and joins Peacock (in a wig and red dress) on a protest about the housing shortages in Lambeth. He is drawing attention to the plight of healthcare assistant and single mother Marian Okanlawon, who is resisting the efforts of Guinness to evict her. But Korol also wants to hear Craig Seymour from the Hawley Arms talk about the impact that redevelopment is having on the traditional character of Camden. Over shots of cranes and diggers on a building site, a melancholic tango plays as Tatchell decries the fact that monied interests are destroying diversity in order to impose a bland uniformity whose sole purpose is to increase their profits.

Entrepreneur Joseph Corré wisely suggests that people can no longer distinguish between `price' and `value' and he and actress Jenny Runacre lament the fact that so many properties are hoovered up by speculators who leave them empty when so many Londoners need somewhere decent to live. Living artist Pandemonia Panacea condemns the fact that high rents also driving artists out of a traditional creative centre and Corré and Proud fume that the city has become a theme park for large corporations who refuse to pay their taxes. They blame Boris Johnson and the financial system bolstered by the City for corrupting the soul of London and this leads to a lengthy Deville anecdote about the arms length management style of landlording and the light fitting in his bathroom.

John James of Soho Estates attempts to justify existing rent and renovation policies and Living Art's Daniel Lismore agrees that they are not the worst landlords in the district. Howard Raymond also reminds us that, while people resist change, they also become accustomed to things that they once opposed. But Kemp is pleased that his former home is still standing and calls for it to be given a Pink Plaque, as he began his working and sexual relationships with David Bowie there. But David Hodge notes that a disproportionate number of LGBT venues have been closed because of gentrification and he highlights the proposal to close The Yard bar. Performance artist Virgin Xtravaganzah is saddened by the fact that London is being tamed and declares that the flats that have been built alongside Battersea Power Station are cancerous.

Lismore wanders the streets with journalist Joseph A. Farrell to discuss how social housing is becoming a thing of the past. However, they pause to reveal that Madame JoJo's has not only been reprieved, but also expanded. But their wan smiles are juxtaposed with the sight of Peacock weeping for the closure of The Black Cap in Camden (which Marilyn blithely dismisses as a dump). Performer Ruby Wednesday reflects on how dark the last show became, while TeTe Bang and Ben Giddins (aka Meth) pine for a place where it was safe to be daring. But, while Hodge fears that the tide has already turned because the rich and powerful always get their way, a number of the talking-heads insist that lobbying can still have an effect because politicians are scared of offending communities within their constituencies. Opinion is divided on the efficacy of street protests and social media campaigns, but a sequence of captions shows how decisions have been reversed in the cases of Madame JoJo's, The Black Cap and The Yard.

Marian Okanlawon and her daughters, Elizabeth and Bethany Baderinwa, also won their fight to be given affordable housing and we see a rapper performing at a demonstration to save Cheddington Gardens in Brixton. But, having delivered these snippets of good news, Korol closes on a beach in Livorno, as a prone Lindsay Kemp rolls into the sea during an impassioned, if somewhat superogatory performance piece.

Serving as his own cinematographer and editor, Aro Korol cannot be accused of selling his cause short. Indeed, he should be applauded for cajoling the likes of Stephen Fry and Lindsay Kemp into participating in various degrees in this advocatory actuality. However, in largely preaching to the converted, the film can feel more than a little parochial, especially as it offers little by way of context for those unfamiliar with Soho and its past, present and future. Korol is right to point out that gentrification is a curse debilitating the entire capital. But the detours away from the four circus region undeniably have a diluting effect. He also affords the likes of 'glamarchist' Johnny Deluxe (who sadly died earlier this year) and the self-promoting Philip Sallon a touch too much screen time. Most damagingly, however, Korol airbrushes the sex trade out of the picture and opts against commenting on the demeaning exploitation that is every bit as heinous as the rackrenting and profiteering that he roundly condemns.

On the technical side, the visuals have a genially rough-and-ready quality that encapsulate Soho's alternative aesthetic. One suspects, however, that budgetary considerations prohibited any access to archive material, although a few glimpses of the lost wonderland might not have gone amiss and might have broken up the parade of mostly static talking-heads. The often blaring soundtrack might also have been placed further back in the mix during the first third of the feature. But it would be harsh to be too critical of a scrappy enterprise whose heart is most definitely in the right place.

The product of an often unhappy and occasionally abusive childhood in Kingston, Jamaica and Syracuse, New York, Grace Jones has always since insisted on being in control. The public image of the aloof, mercurial glamazon has been consciously designed to generate a sense of enigmatic mystique. But it also serves to keep intruders at bay and, despite several years of unique access, documentarist Sophie Fiennes struggles to get past the façade in Grace Jones: Bloodlight and Bami. Taking its subtitle from the patois for the red light in a recording studio and a type of flatbread, this veers away from the conventional blend of archive clips and talking heads. But, while there are fleeting moments of intimacy, this seemingly subversive approach restricts Fiennes to an observational role that allows Jones to reveal only what she chooses about her private life and her diverse career.

The opening credits roll over two intercut performances of `Slave to the Rhythm', one of which features Jones in a golden mask with a flowing cape, while the other has her hula-hooping in a black basque with her eyes peering out through a delicate golden lattice. All of the live performances were specially staged in Dublin and the crowd sound their approval before Jones greets some fans outside a theatre (but seemingly one in the United States). She signs autographs and responds politely to the worshipful prattle before hopping on a plane back to Jamaica.

She greets her mother Marjorie with a new banana-coloured hat that she can't wait to get home to open. Slipping into the local patois, Jones enjoys a grilled fish supper with her family and they reminisce about Marjorie marrying young and having plenty of babies and this history is reflected in the lyrics of 'Williams Blood', which recalls Marjorie's life `keeping up with the Jonses' in Spanish Town. The live rendition segues into `Amazing Grace', which links in with the fact that Jones's father was a clergyman and that her mother is still a regular churchgoer, even though she is very much a non-believer.

While it's impossible to put a date to the footage, the sessions for Hurricane took place in 2008, some two decades after Jones had vowed never to release another album after Bulletproof Heart (1989). A collaboration with producer Ivor Guest, this was a self-funded project and Jones seeks to tie legendary Jamaican musicians Sly Dunbar and Robbie Shakespeare to a firm recording date. Her phone call with the latter becomes animated, as he refuses to commit and Jones demands some respect because she can't afford to book studio time if he is going to give her the runaround. She also reminds him that she is human and deserves better from an old friend.

Having let Fiennes capture a little vulnerability, Jones returns to diva mode, as she breakfasts on champagne while recording `This Is'. She jokes about wishing that a certain body part was as tight as a particularly stubborn oyster shell and her laughter during the session belies the ice queen reputation that she has so carefully nurtured. Footage of the recording is intercut with a live performance, as the lyrics again reveal Jones's reflective mood while cutting the album. But she had to make sacrifices along the way and we see her complaining to a television producer that she feels like a madam in a brothel in being surrounded by female dancers in skimpy white costumes while singing her distinctive disco version of `La Vie en Rose'. As there are no male dancers available, Jones agrees to do a second take on the empty stage, but she finds the whole gig tacky and has to keep reminding herself that the ends will justify the means.

This certainly seems to be the case, as she lays down the rhythm track for `Well Well Well' with drummer Sly and bassist Robbie, whose readiness to improvise proves both a delight and a distraction. Jones remains in her element, however, as she chats to market traders while buying meat and swims in the Blue Lagoon. But being home also brings back painful memories and she alludes during a conversation with son Paulo and niece Chantel about the abuse that she suffered at the hands of her step-grandfather, Master Patrick (aka Mas P), a preacher whose a ferocious temper prompted Grace to act as lookout for her younger siblings to protect them from his tirades. She cuts him a little slack by stating that he hadn't wanted to raise five kids in his later life, but still recalls how he used to read her letters to her parents in New York. He made such an impact on her that she used to channel her rage into her stage persona and one of her acting coaches had to hypnotise her and use a safe word when they did associational exercises.

Jones demonstrates her stage strut as she clashes giant cymbals at the start of `Warm Leatherette' and again in `From the Nipple to the Bottle', which examines her refusal to allow a man to manipulate her. This number is juxtaposed with a sequence of Jones preparing for a performance while fuming down the phone to an aide who has allowed a client to avoid signing a contract promising to pay for her hotel room. Initially strutting naked, she wanders between interconnecting rooms trying to memorise the words to `I Need a Man' and jokes that there are times when she simply has to be `a high-flying bitch' in order to get things done and make people honour their commitments.

Nevertheless, she gets her show face on in time - with the help of some busy backstage bees - and has a New York audience in a bijou venue lapping up `Pull Up to the Bumper'. After what is presumably this show, Jones holds court in her dressing-room, where a trendy devotee asks about the time she slapped Russell Harty on a BBC chat show. Happy to oblige, she recalls how Harty had turned away from her to interview Lord Lichfield and she insists that she had warned him a couple of times about being rude before she struck him. As she declares, with a mixture of self-deprecation and seriousness, she would never hit someone without prior warning.

While driving to a nightclub, Jones suggests that she would like the spirit of Timothy Leary to hold her hand as she died and a trance-like slow-motion sequence follows with plenty of distorted sound, as Jones dances the night away. A gentler percussion sound takes over, as we glide back to the recording studio. But this trip isn't all about the album, as Jones has also agreed to accompany Marjorie to church to see her bishop brother, Noel, preach a sermon. She fusses over which hat best goes with her colourful top and takes a deep swig from a bottle of white wine in the car park before going inside. Noel hands the floor to his mother, who brings the house down with a high-pitched rendition of `His Eye Is On the Sparrow', with Grace enjoying seeing Marjorie milk her moment in the spotlight, while also using it to praise God.

In the minibus home, Noel remembers that squabbles between the siblings always resulted in him taking sides with his brother Max, while Grace and Christian were natural allies and Pam was always neutral. He reminds them of the time that a pre-teen Grace was caught canoodling with a classmate and Mas P held a two-week interrogation before he started dishing out the whoopings. They remember how Max used to seek sanctuary with their neighbour, Ms Myrtle, and Jones goes to visit her and help feed the chickens. She is in no doubt that Jones had star potential at an early age and they spend an evening in her cramped kitchen discussing Mas P's attitude to his brood and playing jacks on the floor.

Cutting from this scene of humbly cosy domesticity, Jones allows green laser light to refract off a spangled bowler hat, as she rattles through an uptempo version of `Love Is the Drug'. During a champagne breakfast in Paris while wearing nothing but a fur coat, Jones reflects on the loneliness of being on stage. But, even if she forgets the words, she knows that she has the audience in the palm of her hand and she carries this sense of assurance into everything she does.

While in the city, she does a modelling session with photographer Jean-Paul Goude, who is not only Paulo's father, but who also did much to create her visual image at the start of her career. She enjoys posing for him and they discuss whether she should sing `La Vie en Noir' during her next show. He shares a birthday with Mas P and Jones tells Goude that he is the only man who made her knees buckle when she came to see him. Slightly embarrassed, he asks if she will be okay with the concept of getting old alone and she insists that she will never be lonely, as she can always find ways to occupy her time and her mind.

Being a grandmother certainly helps and we see Jones cooing over the sleeping infant resting on her father's hand. She also likes to keep on the move and, as the film ends, she returns to an old haunt in Jamaica to catch the sunset. Fittingly, `Hurricane' plays over the closing credits, as it captures the many moods that Jones has displayed for the camera and, yet, we are no closer to knowing the real woman or what drives her.

It would be fascinating to learn more about her artistic influences and inspirations, especially as Fiennes places music so squarely at the heart of her profile. But, while songs are performed in full on a minimalist stage set designed by Eiko Ishioka, with lots of chic lighting designs to show off the Philip Treacy hats and Jasper Conran corsets, we discover nothing about her creative process or how being famous transformed her existence. We also learn nothing about why she spent so long out of the studio and what prompted her to return with 23 songs that reflect upon almost a third of her lifetime. Nor do we find out anything about her perspective on the a changing world, apart from the fact that her accent alters to suit the scenario she's inhabiting.

Mercifully, we are spared any salacious details about her often turbulent love life and, instead, we get to see the value that Jones places on her family. It's sad, therefore, that the release of the film should coincide with the death of her mother Marjorie at the age of 90. Indeed, it's clear that Jones's Jamaican roots also matter a great deal to her and there is a sense that she is currently reclaiming the island for herself to dim the scarring memories of her youth. But Grace Jones is not one to buckle under emotional pressure and she acknowledges that taking ownership of her pain has been crucial to her evolution as a woman and as an artist. However, she remains the consummate performer and, while she allows her guard to drop for the odd fleeting glimpse with her nearest and dearest, she keeps her true self closely under wraps.

Following a screening at CinemaItaliaUK earlier in the year, Federica Di Giacomo's Deliver Us (aka Liberami and Libera Nos) is a provocative, prize-winning documentary that is bound to divide opinion. Profiling Sicilian Franciscan, Father Cataldo Migliazzo, it examines the Catholic Church's continued insistence that priests have the power to cast out the demons possessing troubled souls. Accorded remarkable access to the Palermo prelate and those seeking his assistance, Di Giacomo maintains a largely neutral perspective. But, while this actuality debunks many of the myths that have been fuelling horror movies since the phenomenal success of William Friedkin's The Exorcist (1973), it also poses troubling questions about the Vatican's encouragement of rituals that will seem to many to exploit vulnerable believers, who need psychiatric help rather than holy water and incantations.

Opening with a quotation from the Book of Job about Satan roaming the earth, Di Giacomo shows a seated woman in a chapel with her back to the camera lapse into a cursing frenzy the moment Fr Migliazzo places his stole on her shoulder. A deep voice warns the priest away that he owns the woman and will resist all attempts to remove him. It's a shocking start to proceedings, which take a detour via a churdyard during an eclipse before following Migliazzo to the parish church, where supplicants from across the island are waiting for him. Such is the clamour to be healed that tempers fray among the faithful and Migliazzo has to usher them into the sanctuary, while admonishing one mother for lacking the faith to prevent her troublesome son from misbehaving.

A young woman who has been coughing while waiting to see Migliazzo begins writhing while reciting her affirmation of faith and she collapses on to the floor. The camera discreetly descends to ground level, as the woman's family explain the nature of her possession and the priest sprinkles her with holy water and prays. Outside, Gloria, a middle-aged woman describes how she has become afraid of leaving the house in case her evil spirit starts forcing her to do bad things, while a man of around the same age who finds it difficult to resist his sexual urges declares that an exorcist had diagnosed possession by the lust demon, Asmodeus.

Grumpily dismissing a claim that he is a saint, Migliazzo says mass and recites a litany denouncing Satan and his minions and calling on them to leave the afflicted. Voices start to cry out around the church and the camera hovers close to those being tormented, as loved ones try to control them and ordinary parishioners join the priest in prayer. At the end of the service, individuals crowd around him, with one man asking for help in recovering an overdue payment. While he listens to each petition, Migliazzo seems testy and spouts platitudes in the hope they will satisfy people with genuine problems and no other idea how to solve them.

Gloria has clearly been pained by the experience and she staggers outside to have a calming smoke. An elderly woman comes to check on her and threatens to hit her with an umbrella the next time she hears her taking the Lord's name in vain. But another is more compassionate, as Gloria concludes that she is either possessed or insane. A man driving along a busy road talks to his daughter, Giulia, about her problems and implies that the devil might be taunting her because of the nature of his job. We also see a youngish man with tattoos, Enrico, wandering the streets because his parents will no longer have him in the house before Migliazzo is shown conducting an exorcism over the phone. The female voice rasps obscenities as the priest orders Satan to desist. But, curiously, the call ends with Migliazzo wishing the woman and her husband an Happy Christmas, as he promises to speak with her again soon.

While attending a healing ceremony, Gloria fights back the tears as she sings a hymn. She sinks to her knees when the priest lays hands on her and she is later shown discussing her case with a cleric who has asked if her problem is `human' rather than demonic. She explains how she has seen numerous doctors without success (one suspected she had multiple sclerosis, another depression) and has concluded that the only solution is a malevolent presence. Meanwhile, Giulia's father prays over her at home, while her mother rubs holy water on her face and her younger brother joins in the Hail Marys with a look of bored bemusement.

As the camera eavesdrops on a woman trying to persuade a companion to leave the car and visit Migliazzo, he conducts an exorcism on a woman whose friend annoys him with her incessant exhortations. Eventually, he tells her to pray somewhere else because she is distracting him before he engages in an exchange with an angry spirit who defiantly refuses to leave its host. The reaction is less dramatic at a healing service at a nearby church (which is shrouded in a misty morning sunshine), where people faint backwards after hands are laid upon them by Father Carmine as they stand before the altar.

Among them is Enrico, who has an angry phone call with the girlfriend who is no longer willing to tolerate his mood swings. He goes to a nightclub, where he does drugs with a mate and complains about the unfairness of life. But Migliazzo also has his moments of human weakness, as he bemoans the fact that his life is ebbing away and he is unable to prepare his soul for the afterlife because he is always in demand. He visits the home of a woman who has been consorting with an occultist and he urges her daughter to burn any worldly obstacles that might be leading her astray, including her cuddly toy collection and the pile of clothing she has dumped on the bed.

A mother takes her daughter, Anna, to see Fr Carmine. They drive behind a lorry with Padre Pio's face on the rear doors and chat about her experiences with various other priests. She crawls around the altar and howls like a wild cat, as Carmine prays over her. But an older cleric confides that he often finds that those who seek exorcism are often feigning possession because they enjoy being the centre of attention. He tells Anna to smile more and stop behaving like a capricious feline. Yet, when she wanders outside with her mother, Anna reveals that she was once assaulted by a trusted family friend (who used to foist good luck charms on them) when he took her for a pizza.

Giulia returns to show Migliazzo how well she is doing. But she seems sullen as her parents fuss over her and she opts not to attend mass because she feels as though there is someone inside her. Enrico also turns up at the church and complains that Migliazzo never manages to find time for him. Gloria is also on hand and she is angry with Carmine for questioning her. She lashes out at him when he shows her a Lenten palm and he orders the malign spirit to leave her. Migliazzo has an even harder time with a blonde woman, who scowls like an alley cat when he pleads with God to relieve her of the suffering that transforms her. She rears up when water is poured over her head and eventually collapses on the floor in exhaustion.

Migliazzo gets a check up with his doctor, who loads him up with pills to keep him ticking along. Gloria seems to be feeling better, as she gets her hair done and announces she would like to go dancing without her husband. Enrico is less buoyant, however, as he argues with his girlfriend about her insistence that he has to believe in God for Migliazzo to help him. But it's clear from the priests gathered at a conference for exorcists in Rome that faith is crucial to the process and a series of closing captions (accompanied by `Lose Your Soul' by Ryan Gosling's band, Dead Man's Bones) reveals that the increase in the number of people requesting rites had prompted every French diocese to appoint a specialist exorcist, while Madrid, Milan and Rome are actively seeking to add to their numbers. Ten times more exorcisms are being performed in the United States than in the past, while the Church is even contemplating setting up a call centre to handle the volume of inquiries.

Written by Di Giacomo and Andrea Zvetkov Sanguigni, this is an often frustrating study of exorcism in the modern Catholic Church. It doesn't help that Di Giacomo's duty to respect the participants prevents her from exploring their backstories in any detail, as it is almost impossible to get a handle on who they are and what are the specifics of their problems. Fathers Migliazzo and Carmine also remain somewhat shrouded, as Di Giacomo - who has previously produced The Cave Side of Life (2006) and Housing (2009) - is only ever allowed to observe rather than inquire about the rituals and their purpose.

The imagery captured by Greta De Lazzaris and Carlo Sisalli and edited by Aline Hervé and Edoardo Morabito is often shockingly intimate and intense. But the lack of context forces the viewer into becoming a voyeur, as a fellow human being endures inexplicable pain and misery. Thankfully, Di Giacomo errs on the side of discretion. However, by failing to explore either the theological aspects of exorcism or the possibility that the supplicants are suffering from schizophrenia and other personality disorders, and by avoiding any discussion of charlatanry, it's never clear what she is trying to prove. Consequently, this discomfiting documentary inevitably feels exploitative in spite of itself and raises as many questions about its own making as it does about the subject itself.