There's a strong religious feel to the films on general release this week, as the faith practiced by Jehovah's Witnesses, Catholic nuns, Dominican evangelicals, prehistoric shamans and Norse deities comes under scrutiny. The tone isn't always approving, however. Indeed, despite dotting the action with quotations from the New World translation of the Holy Scriptures and actual sermons and magazine articles, British first-timer Daniel Kokotajlo felt compelled to include the phrase, `not endorsed by the governing body of Jehovah's Witnesses', at the conclusion of Apostasy, which draws on his own experiences in following Hans-Christian Schmid's Requiem (2006), Dietrich Brüggemann's Stations of the Cross (2014) and Marco Daniel's Worldly Girl (2016) in exploring the plight of young women caught up in religious extremism.  

Having received a life-saving blood transfusion when she was born, 18 year-old Molly Wright has always felt a certain stigma, as single mother Siobhan Finneran is a devout Jehovah's Witness. Indeed, when doctor Poppy Jhakra offers to give the anaemic Wright a secret transfusion, Finneran comes to the surgery and lays down the law. She also bolsters the anxious Wright's confidence by showing her a book containing stories about brave children who died after putting their faith in the tenets of their faith rather than medicine. 

Wright and older sister Sacha Parkinson have been learning Urdu with Wasim Jakir to take the good news to the Asian residents of their part of Oldham. She distributes leaflets in the shopping centre and has a gardening job with cousins Jessica Baglow and Christian Foster and teases him when he claims to have a demon in his attic. However, when Parkinson introduces her to college mates Bronwyn James and Aqib Khan, Wright is confused by her sister's embarrassment when she ticks off James for wearing a cross around her neck when Witnesses believe that Christ was crucified on an upright stake. 

Finneran also disapproves of Parkinson putting college before her religion and warns her that God won't be impressed if she's preoccupied with her studies when the Armageddon comes to return Earth to its Edenic state. She is thrown for a loop, however, when Parkinson announces she's pregnant by a non-brother who has no interest in coming to the Kingdom Temple. When she reports the matter to elders James Quinn and James Foster, they disfellowship Parkinson and she moves out after they recommend that Finneran and Wright have minimum contact with her. 

By contrast, they encourage newly arrived elder Robert Emms to court Wright, even though he only has a window-cleaning round to keep him going until he rises to a paid position within the community. Finneran chaperones a dinner date and they kiss chastely on the balcony of his flat. She tells him about her transfusion and they clasp hands when he reassures her that he knows people on the medical liaison committee if the need ever arises. This comes sooner rather than later, as Wright feels faint at a party thrown by aunt Clare McLinn and Finneran emerges from the hospital in something of a daze. She continues with her job without telling her boss that her daughter has died and she remains confident that Wright is being cared for by Jehovah when Parkinson comes to the memorial service and sobs because her last words to her sister had been angry ones after she had come to the house to try and patch things up after splitting from the Muslim Khan. 

Finneran sheds tears herself watching a video about how Witnesses should grieve. But she betrays no emotion when her boss mentions seeing an article about Wright's death in the local paper or when she visits their favourite nail bar. She takes solace from Parkinson's tentative return to meetings at the Kingdom Hall abutting a busy flyover. But, even though Emms and Quinn work with her, they advise Finneran to restrict contact until Parkinson is reinstated. Indeed, Emms gently reprimands her when she calls at her daughter's flat and insists on spring cleaning it. 

Yet, while she tries to go along with the demands of the elders to restore her relationship with her mother, Parkinson loses her temper during an assessment meeting and she informs Quinn that he is not a policeman with jurisdiction over her life. Storming out, she tells Finneran that they can meet in secret if she wants, but she is no longer prepared to remain within a religion in which she feels she is constantly being punished for trying to live a normal life. Finneran herself has a moment of doubt during a sermon that Emms preaches about contact with the disfellowshipped. But, while she rushes out of the hall and tries to take sanctuary in the washroom, a speaker relays the words and she is forced to decide whether she has let her daughters down or done the right thing by remaining true to her religion. 

Keen to see her granddaughter, Finneran drops in on Parkinson. She cradles the child and asks if she can take her to meetings. But, having read up about criticisms of Jehovah's Witnesses online, Parkinson has no intention of allowing her to be sucked into what she feels to be a flawed faith and scoffs when Finneran asks whether she wants to be reunited with Wright under the New System. In a moment of desperation, Finneran grabs the baby and tries to bundle her into the backseat of her car. But Parkinson stops her and the film ends with Finneran standing in a shopping precinct with a handful of leaflets and nobody paying her the slightest notice. 

Making for intriguing comparisons with Conor Ibrahim's Freesia (2017) in its depiction of the workings of a patriarchal religious community, this is a laudably balanced insight into a religion that Daniel Kokotajlo has himself abandoned. He might invite viewers to question the relationship between the young female members of the Kingdom Hall and the panel of self-appointed men lording it over them, but he avoids demonising Quinn and Emms in the same way that he resists judging Finneran for her choices as a Witness and as a mother. Consequently, this avoids many of the traps that so the bulk of secular pictures fall into when attempting to expose the perceived calumnies of organised religion.  

That's not to say that Kokotajlo remains entirely neutral or wholly succeeds in eschewing melodrama in juxtaposing individual faith and institutional obligation. But he is to be commended for his lack of preachiness and sensationalism, even when Wright and Finneran pray to Jehovah for guidance during conversations with strangers and their co-religionists alike. This sense that they live their faith adds to the potency of their domestic situation, as they are forever trying to reconcile their beliefs and their human nature. Caught in a moral quandary (having seemingly already lost her husband because of her piety), Finneran proves particularly persuasive in this regard, although Wright and Parkinson also give considered performances, as do Emms and Quinn. 

Abetted by production designer John Ellis, cinematographer Adam Scarth and editor Napoleon Stratogiannakis, Kokotajlo conveys the limited horizons of the family's orbit and suggests a sense of embattlement, even though he opts not to delve in any depth into the scepticism expressed by Parkinson's college pals and Finneran's boss. He often isolates the women in town centre contexts and shows the world speeding past the Kingdom Hall in a telling long shot that contrasts with the taut Academy ratio close-ups used to register emotions during exchanges in which Finneran, Wright and Parkinson try to make sense of the fissures that are suddenly pulling them apart. It will be fascinating, therefore, to see what Kokotajlo does with less evidently personal subject matter.

It's instructive to compare Hollywood's depiction of convent life with the nunsploitation pictures produced in Europe since the 1960s. Devotion and goodness might have permeated the likes of Leo McCarey's The Bells of St Mary's (1945), John Huston's Heaven Knows, Mr Allison (1957), Fred Zinnemann's The Nun's Story (1959), Ralph Nelson's Lilies of the Field (1963) and Robert Wise's The Sound of Music (1965), but temptation and sin came to the fore in such calculated shockers as Jesús Franco's The Demons (1972) and Love Letters of a Portuguese Nun (1976), Domenico Paolella's Story of a Cloistered Nun and The Nun and the Devil (both 1973), Gianfranco Mingozzi's Flavia the Heretic (1974) and Walerian Borowczyk's Behind Convent Walls (1978). 

Pitched somewhere between the two camps was Jacques Rivette's La Religieuse (1966), which contemporary critics felt erred back towards the Tradition of Quality after the rigorous nouvelle vaguishness of Paris nous appartient (1961). In fact, this adaptation of Denis Diderot's 1796 novel owes more to Robert Bresson's Les Anges du Péche (1943), which is fitting as the only previous sound era take on a Diderot text had been Bresson's Les Dames du Bois de Boulogne (1945). 

Following a caption advising viewers that `this film is a work of imagination' that has been loosely adapted from its source and `should be viewed from a double perspective; history and romance', we are given a brief history of French religious orders and how Diderot drew on the life of Marguerite Delamarre. As the story opens in Paris in 1757, we see Suzanne Simonin (Anna Karina) in a wedding dress preparing to take the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience that will make her a nun. However, she turns away from the altar and pleads at the bars of the supplicant chapel to be excused a vocation she feels unworthy to make. 

She returns home with her mother (Christiane Lénier) and her trusted servant (Françoise Godde) and is confined to her room until she sees sense. Her father (Charles Millot) sends Fr Seraphin (Marc Eyraud) to speak to her, but Suzanne is determined to resist. Realising that she has no option but to reveal the truth, Madame Simonin explains that she is the illegitimate result of an adulterous affair and that she feels the guilt of her only fall from grace each time she sees her. Suzanne is dismayed by the news, but is even more discomfited when her mother falls to her knees and pleads with her to spare her the shame of exposure before suggesting that it would be impossible to find Suzanne a worthwhile match if the truth about her parentage ever emerged. 

Seeing that her father is in no financial position to afford a dowry in such circumstances, Suzanne writes a note agreeing to enter the convent at Longchamp and her father thanks her for being so dutiful. Despite her best intentions, Suzanne finds convent life a strain and Mother Superior Madame de Moni (Micheline Presle) comes to her room to offer words of wisdom and to encourage her to pray. They meet often, in the chapel and the autumnal garden, and some of the other sisters seem to resent the special bond. But, while Mme de Moni is aware that Suzanne is unsuited for the religious life, she encourages her to accept God's will and seize the blessings that come her way. 

However, she receives nothing but bad news, as her mother and Mme de Moni pass away within a short space of time and Suzanne finds herself being victimised by the new Mother Superior, Sister Sainte-Christine (Francine Bergé). Having searched her room for the keepsakes that her mother had sent her via Fr Seraphine, Mother Sainte-Christine sets out to break her spirit. In addition to make her wash floors and keeping her on a diet of bread and water, she subjects her to an inquisition by three clerics and constantly searches her room. At one point, after Suzanne had asked one of the sisters to smuggle a letter out of the convent requesting a court hearing to have her vows annulled, Mother Sainte-Christine has her tossed into a cell. 

But lawyer Hébert (Jean Martin) is granted access to the convent and he confides that he is an enlightened man who has little time for religious orthodoxy. He also warns Suzanne that she will have to endure Mother Sainte-Christine's cruelty while the case is processed and she claims that any suffering will be worthwhile if it's accepted that she was forced to take the veil under duress. However, she underestimates the Mother Superior's detestation, as she is forced to live in rags and is denied any possessions besides a straw mattress. She is starved and prevented from praying, while Sisters Saint-Jean (Gilette Barbier), Saint-Ursule (Catherine Diamant), Saint-Jéròme (Annik Morice) and Saint-Clément (Danielle Palmero) are urged to ignore her presence. But they still have to step over her, as she lies outside the chapel door. 

When one of the nuns becomes hysterical when Suzanne tries to speak to her, Mother Sainte-Christine becomes convinced she is possessed and she has her hands bound and water thrown over her. Moreover, she asks the archbishop (Hubert Buthion) to perform an exorcism. He realises that Suzanne has been picked on, however, and is touched by her simple piety when she is asked to kiss the wounds on a crucifix. Ignoring the Mother Superior's protests, the priest recommends that Mother Sainte-Christine should be reprimanded for mistreating Suzanne. But her hopes of leaving the order are dashed when Hébert says the courts found the letter she had written to her mother consenting to join and she is crushed. 

Shortly afterwards, however, Lemoine comes to her room to ask if she would be willing to transfer to another convent. He escorts her to Saint-Eutrope, where she is greeting with gigglingly girlish enthusiasm by Madame de Chelles (Liselotte Pulver). She wears lace and sports an ostentatious diamond necklace over her robes. But, while Suzanne is too naive to realise that her new Mother Superior is a lesbian who encourages overt displays of affection among her charges, she recognises that she has displaced Sister Saint-Thérèse (Yori Bertin) in her affections and tries to reassure her that she doesn't want to rock the boat. 

However, Mme de Chelles is obsessed with Suzanne and they play spinet duos and stroll in the grounds, while the other nuns play blind man's buff. Delighted to have a mirror on her wall, Suzanne seems not to notice how touchy-feely her superior is until she comes to her room in the dead of night and is relieved when she leaves hurriedly on hearing noises in the corridor. During confession, she confides to Fr Lemoine (Wolfgang Reichmann) and is visited soon afterwards by Dom Morel (Francisco Rabal), a monk who reveals that he was also coerced into taking holy orders. 

When Mme de Chelles begins lamenting outside Suzanne's door each night, she accepts Morel's suggestion that they should flee. But, no sooner have they climbed the convent wall and checked into a nearby inn than he attempts to seduce her and she escapes into the night. Taking odd jobs in the village, Suzanne hears that Morel has been arrested and will spend the rest of his life in jail. Terrified of being caught, she is reduced to begging in the streets until an elegant woman takes pity on her. However, she merely wants Suzanne to join her brothel and, when she realises the fate awaiting her when she enters a room full of masked dandies, she blesses herself and leaps to her death from a window. 

Nobody had batted an eyelid either when Rivette staged a production of La Religieuse in 1963 or when Karina had starred in a separate staging directed by husband Jean-Luc Godard. Yet, the moment the Catholic Church got wind of this screen adaptation, pressure was placed on André Malraux and Yvon Bourges at the Ministry of Information to forbid its release on the grounds that it was both blasphemous and defamatory. Even though the critical response had been mixed, a furious intellectual debate erupted, with Godard in the vanguard. As a result, the film was shown in competition at Cannes before it was mothballed for a year to allow the fuss to die down. 

The reactionary backlash says more about the growing anxiety of the French Right than it does about Rivette's slant on Diderot. Writing with Jean Gruault, Rivette remains remarkably faithful to the source and resists the temptation to sensationalise the subject matter. Indeed, his restraint in depicting Mother Sainte-Christine's sadism and Madame de Chelles's infatuation contrasts strongly with the melodramatics found in such British convent pictures as Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger's Black Narcissus (1947) and Ken Russell's The Devils (1971). 

Micheline Presle, Francine Bergé and Liselotte Pulver excel alongside Karina, whose Danish accent and new wave celebrity help set her apart as a rebel with a cause. But the production values are every bit as crucial as the performances, with Jean-Jacques Fabri's art direction, Alain Levent's cinematography and Gitt Magrini's costumes being complemented by Michel Fano's deft sound design and Jean-Claude Éloy's sparingly used score. Few will have seen Joe D'Amato's Convent of Sinners (1986), but some may recall Guillaume Nicloux's 2013 heritage remake, with Pauline Etienne as Suzanne and Françoise Lebrun, Louise Bourgoin and Isabelle Huppert as her tormentors. Rivette's version is head and shoulders above its competitors. But it remains some way off his best work.

Despite Francisco Arturo Palau becoming the first Domincan director in the early 1920s, the Caribbean republic only began producing films on a regular basis in the 1980s, with the emergence of documentarist René Fortunato. However, since Agliberto Melendez's One Way Ticket (1988) became the country's first wholly indigenous feature, the likes of Freddy Vargas, Alfonso Rodríguez, Luis Arambilet and Leticia Tonos have kept flown the flag and the name of Nelson Carlo de los Santos Arias can now be added to their number. Having started out with the shorts, Le Dernier des bonbons (2011) and Lullabies (2014), and the documentaries, You Look Like a Carriage That Not Even the Oxen Can Stop (2013) and Santa Teresa and Other Stories (2015), De Los Santos Arias makes his feature bow with Cocote (2017), a technically audacious study of faith, family, class, masculinity, justice and violence that takes its title from the Dominican word for `neck'. 

Following juxtaposed monochrome shots of bonfire smoke and rush hour traffic and colour images of a swimming pool in a verdant garden, Alberto Almonte (Vicente Santos) gets permission from his boss, Sonia (Soledad De Los Ángeles Carballo García), to leave Santo Domingo to attend his father Eusebio's funeral in the Dominican countryside. Having listened to an evangelist preacher on the television at the bus station and endured a cramped journey to Oviedo, Alberto is greeted by sisters Patria (Yuberbi de la Rosa) and Karina (Judith Rodriguez Perez) with the news that they have already buried their murdered father and are keen for their brother to stay with his mother (Carmen Doris Vizcaino) for the nine days of prayer known as the `rezos'. 

Alberto is furious that he has been dragged from the city under false pretences and Patria chops up a chicken in the yard, as she informs him that their father was decapitated for failing to repay a debt to loan shark Jesus Martinez (Pepe Sierra), a shady character who has secured the rank of lieutenant within the local police force. She hints that Alberto has a duty to avenge his father and Karina (who is the deceased's illegitimate daughter) taunts Alberto about his city slicker faith in the Bible when he should allow himself to be guided by the tenets of their West African heritage, which demands an eye for an eye. 

Lingering footage of the rezos ritual ensues before Alberto gets a visit in the middle of the night from one of Martinez's sidekicks (Ricardo Ariel Toribio   Ricardo Ariel Toribio). He urges him to take control of his womenfolk, as Katrina is badmouthing his boss and he doesn't want to have to start throwing his weight around. The next day, Alberto mooches around the town before heading to the chapel where a preacher known as The Shepherdess (Kalyane Linares Martinez) is conducting a service filled with rhythmic chanting and heartfelt prayers. 

She takes Alberto to one side and pushes him on to his knees, as she invokes the spirits to protect him from Satan and prevent him from doing anything foolish. But Patria is dismayed that her brother is responding to the crisis with such passivity and she denounces him for converting to an evangelical form of Christianity as she demands to know whether he is going to leave it up to Karina to salvage some family pride by confronting Martinez. 

Another rezos rite follows, in which Patria and Karina become hysterical with grief and have to be restrained by their neighbours. By contrast, Alberto sits quietly and tries to pray, but feels estranged from his community and their beliefs. He rides into town with Karina and she spots Martinez having a beer at a bar and launches into a tirade against him that prompts Martinez to lose his temper and insist that Alberto stops his half-sister from shooting her mouth off. 

However, when he tries to file a report with the local cop (José Miguel Fernández), he tells him that Martinez is too powerful to take down unless Alberto has connections within the establishment. He recounts his own experience with a rogue cop who forced himself upon his wife and Alberto despairs of finding justice. Thus, when Karina gets into a drunken argument with her friend Chave (Isabel Spencer), he orders them both to shut up, as he is tired of all the bickering and blaming. 

Following a news item on the television about a rooster in Los Alcarrizos that crows `Christ is coming', we follow an expedition into the hills for another rezos ceremony in a rock cave (which is intercut with monochrome shots of beachside shacks and some fish drying in the sun). A goat is sacrificed in a seaside cemetery before more prayers are offered in a tented shrine and Alberto has to calm his mother and siblings, as they are overcome with grief. 

A final rite sees a floral tribute set alight before everyone gets drunk and dances to the drums. At the end of the night, the camera pans around the village, as people wend their way home. But Alberto goes in search of Martinez, who promises to turn a blind eye if he goes back to the capital. However, Alberto has been moved by Patria and Karina's outpourings and, having shot out the lights, he barges into Martinez's office brandishing a machete. He is seen running away with a blood-spattered vest before a match shot of the stars brings us back to Sonia's pool, as she toasts her husband and sings for her guests. The following morning, Alberto is back in his overalls and, as a fornicating couple hasten into the bushes, he strides on to the lawn to resume his duties, as if nothing untoward had happened. 

Providing fascinating syncretistic contrasts between the restrained piety of urban evangelism and the more emotive shibboleths of Los Misterios, this is the second film in as many weeks to be rooted in Third Cinema (after Kristina Konrad's One or Two Questions). However, De Los Santos Arias's debut has more in common with the Cannibal Tropicalist strain that emerged in Brazil in the mid-1960s through such Cinema Novo pioneers as Nelson Pereira Dos Santos, Glauber Rocha and Carlos Digues. 

Yet, while the ethnographical segments are compellingly atmospheric, the narrative is as sketchy as the characterisation. Making Hamlet look like a decisive dynamo, Alberto drifts between novena rituals with an unchanging expression that leaves viewers none the wiser whether his phlegmatism is a personality trait or the result of his faith or conditioned servitude. Similarly, Patria and Karina come across as short-fused slaves to their emotions rather than dutiful daughters seeking atonement for a brutal killing. Consequently, it's difficult to immerse oneself in the drama and this sense of detachment only serves the emphasise De Los Santos Arias's determined efforts to showcase his eye for an image. 

Roman Kasseroller's photography is consistently striking. But almost every sequence contains a visual flourish that draw attention to itself, whether it's a  travelling point-of-view shot; an uptilted close-up taken from the handlebars of Alberto's motorbike; a blurred image of Alberto sitting in the middle of a scene that is otherwise in sharp focus; a 360° pan around a claustrophobic room or some higgledy-piggledy houses; a towering top shot down on to the riverbank; a long shot taken through a darkened doorway to show figures conversing on a sun-kissed beach; or a jerky handheld impression of the spiritual intensity of rezos. 

Add into the mix the tiresomely recurring and often entirely unmotivated switches between aspect ratios and between colour and monochrome and the viewer is entitled to feel somewhat overwhelmed by the stylistic overkill. Yet, even though he comes perilously close on occasion to obscurantism, De Los Santos Arias is to be commended for attempting to fashion a distinctive vocabulary and break with the conventions of classical cinema.

In 1991, a couple of tourists in the Chalcolithic Alps on the border between Austria and Italy stumbled across the mummified remains of a man who had lived in the region 5300 years earlier. As the 45 year-old had an arrow lodged in his shoulder, it was determined that Ötzi (as he was nicknamed) was the victim of a violent death and German director Felix Randau seeks to solve history's oldest unsolved crime in Iceman. He opts to do so using untranslated snatches of dialogue in the ancient Rhaetic language in a bid to bring authenticity to action that nevertheless feels as though elements of Jean-Jacques Annaud's Quest for Fire (1981) and Nils Gaup's Pathfinder (1987) have been mixed and matched to create a prehistoric video game. 

Interrupted during love-making with her shaman partner, Kelab (Jürgen Vogel), Kisis (Susanne Wuest) is called to attend on a neighbour giving birth in their Copper Age Ötztal Alpine settlement. The mother dies and Kelab performs the burial ritual and baptises the infant using a sacred relic referred to as a `tineka'. Shortly afterwards, he goes out hunting and leaves the camp open to a savage attack by Krant (André M. Hennicke) and his cohorts Tasar (Sabin Tambrea) and Gosar (Martin Augustin Schneider). They slaughter everyone and set light to the huts, with Krant experiencing a momentary pang of guilt, as he barricades two children inside a burning building. 

Smelling burning, Kelab looks back to see his home ablaze and hurries down the hillside to find Kisis dead. In a nearby cave, he discovers the body of his daughter, Rasop (Paula Renzler). However, she has managed to protect the baby and Kelab bundles her up to accompany him on a quest to avenge himself on the rapacious killers and recover the tineka. Having performed the necessary funeral rites and taking a goat to provide milk for the child, Kelab strides into the mountains. He comes across a camp and attacks a trapper (Henry Buchman) and his comrade, Gris (Axel Stein), who confront him. But, on finding a hooded captive (Julius Hotz) and a stash of trinkets and utensils, he realises that these might not be the raiders and lets Tasar go free. When he returns to the bodies of the other pair, however, he discovers that Gris has run away.

Huddling under a canopy from the torrential rain, Kelab ponders his next move. He notices Tasar following him and throws a rock at him to make him desist. Meanwhile, Krant and his crew have passed the white-haired Ditob (Franco Nero) and his companion, Kulan (Anna F.). They offer Kelab foot and shelter for the night in their remote hut. But, while he rejects Kulan's sexual advances and she is affronted, she agrees to keep the baby and Kelab is able to continue his search unencumbered. 

As he gives pursuit, he picks his way through the rocks and has to take evasive action when Krant spots him and leaves one of his men to hold Kelab off with his bow and arrow. Unfortunately, the fellow plunges to his death and Kelab drives his thumbs into his eyeballs to damn his soul. Trudging on, as the weather begins to deteriorate and snow covers the crags, Kelab comes across Krant and his surviving sidekick and charges towards them. However, the ice is still thin and he falls into a subterranean cavern. 

Waking on a ledge, Kelab lights a torch and tries to find a way out through a passageway. But he falls back and seems resigned to his fate, as he mumbles prayers and munches on balled snow. Yet, just as all hope seems to be gone, a rope tumbles down the side of the ravine and Kelab pulls himself to the surface to see Tasar waiting for him. They exchange glances signifying that their are now equally indebted to each other before the younger man beetles off into the distance. 

After many more miles of arduous trekking, Kelab sees Krant's settlement in the valley and kills him after a bruising axe fight. He also fires an arrow into his accomplice, whose companion, Mitar (Violetta Schurawlow), grieves with her daughters, as Kelab recovers the tineka, which turns out to be a primitive mirror. However, he helps them build a pyre for their menfolk and remains inside the tent while they pay their last respects. 

On waking, Kelab finds Mitar with a spear to his throat. But he wrenches it away and leaves peaceably the next morning. Sleeping rough in freezing conditions, he hurls the tineka into a chasm and continues his lonely journey until Gris catches up with him and hits him in the shoulder with an arrow. He tumbles down the incline and his shallow breathing can be heard, as he stares ahead with the daunting realisation that he is dying. 

Harking back to the Bergfilme pioneered by Dr Arnold Fanck in the 1920s, this may be provide a perfectly plausible explanation as to how Ötzi met his fate. However, Randau provides too little backstory to help the audience acclimatise to life in c.3200 BCE and get to know the intrepid and resourceful Kelab. Peering out from fur hoods and masses of facial hair, Jürgen Vogel does what he can to establish a heroic personality. But Kelab remains something of a cipher, as he is swept through the inhospitable terrain to survive various challenges en route to vanquishing a foe whose act of wanton destruction makes little sense, as the villagers posed no threat to him and he took nothing from the camp except the tineka, which he didn't know was there when he launched his attack.

Largely keeping Jakub Bejnarowicz's widescreen camera at a remove to highlight Kelab's insignificance in the grander scheme of things, Randau allows him the odd moment of human intimacy. But the decision to leave all speech indecipherable places too much of a burden on Mark Parisotto's immersive sound mix and Beat Solèr's invasive score. Consequently, while this has been meticulously made - with the contributions of production designer Juliane Friedrich, costumier Cinzia Cioffi and make-up artist Heike Merker being particularly noteworthy - too many creative decisions deprive the action of some much-needed intensity and suspense.

The Norse mythology movie has come to the cinematic fore, thanks to the Marvel trilogy comprised of Kenneth Branagh's Thor (2011), Alan Taylor's Thor: The Dark World (2013) and Taika Waititi's Thor: Ragnarok (2017). But, as Nicolas Winding Refn's Valhalla Rising (2009) and Farren Blackburn's Hammer of the Gods (2013) demonstrate, not every story told in the nine realms based around Yggdrasil has its origin in a comic-book. David L.G. Hughes's Of Gods and Warriors joins this growing list, although this modestly budgeted follow-up to Hard Boiled Sweets (2012) often feels as though owes more to Game of Thrones than the Codex Regius.

In the kingdom of Volsung, a child born to an absent father is cursed. The flame-haired Princess Helle (Anna Demetriou) is doubly hexed, as, when mother Queen Alva (Victoria Broom) died in labour, King Asmund (Andrew Whipp) was duped into swapping with his newborn nephew by his scheming brother, Prince Bard (Timo Nieminen), in order to convince their enemies that the future of the dynasty had been secured. Over the next 21 years, Bard treats Helle as a servant in order to teach her humility. But Lord Soini (Will Mellor) trains her in combat and she develops the sword skills that her feeble cousin, Hakon (Taylor Frost), lacks. Moreover, she is given guidance by Odin (Terence Stamp), who materialises from Valhalla to remind Helle that there is always a path through a darkened forest. 

However, the evil Loki (Murray McArthur) is similarly guiding Bard, who persuades Helle that she will earn the favour of her uncle if she slays the kraken, which is the only thing of which he is afraid. She sets out to find the beast's lair, but Hakon follows her and Bard orders Kirkwood (Ian Beattie) and his hulking oppos Torstein and Steiner (both Martyn Ford) to dispatch them. As Hakon urges Helle to assume the crown, she is attacked by Torstein, who is lunging at her with his hammer when Asmund wakes from a nightmare and arrives in the nick of time to kill the brute. He confesses his folly to Helle and Hakon, but is murdered by Kirkwood and Hakon sacrifices himself so that Helle can escape. 

Refusing to remain in Volsung under Bard's rule, Soini gathers his truest warriors and ventures forth to find Helle. She wanders along the coast and keeps looking back wistfully at the castle. But she just about keeps her wits about her when Loki disguises himself as Odin and tricks her into eating some scarlet mushrooms. Indeed, he almost coaxes her into self-slaughter before she comes to her senses and swings her sword at the dastardly deity, who disappears in a puff of smoke. 

Intent on casing Helle's skull in an iron mask, Bard sends Kirkwood to capture his niece. But she has found sanctuary among a band of unarmed travellers led by Tarburn (Paul Freeman). Disciples Vern (Laurence O'Fuarain) and Tait (Kajsa Mohammar) teach Helle to live off the land and she makes love with Vern in a meadow. But he has made a childhood promise to marry Tait and Tarburn reassures her that heartache will strengthen her soul. 

Joined by Soini and his followers, Helle vows to fight Bard and is surprised when Vern and Tait stand beside her, as they are tired of wandering and want a permanent home, When Helle promises to reinvent Volsung according to Tarburn's principles, he throws in his lot and they charge into battle on the back of a rousing speech. Bard hangs back from the fray with Steiner and Helle chases after him (after Tait sees her kissing Vern). She manages to defeat him with a low blow after an epic struggle and races through the forest to find her wicked uncle. While Soini stands toe to toe with Kirkwood, Helle hangs Bard from a tree by a iron mask chain and she uses this to kill Kirkwood as he is about to stab Soini. 

As Loki tempts the envious Tait at Helle's coronation, this eager saga ends with a plot twist designed to flag up a potential sequel. Sophomore writer-director Hughes strains every sinew to make the action involving and exciting. Given the limited resources at his disposal, he deserves credit for the glossiness of the visuals, along with production designer John Leslie, cinematographer Sara Deane and costumier Hazel Webb Crozier. But the formulaic nature of the scenario and the threadbare characterisation undermine their efforts at every turn. Moreover, Hughes and co-editor George Adams deprive the fight sequences choreographed by Andrei Nazarenko of any kinetic flow. Maybe they should have watched a few more Japanese chambara movies.

Doing their best with some portentous dialogue, the ensemble enters into the spirit of the piece. Making her feature bow, Anna Demetriou acquits herself well, although she's required to do a lot of wistful distance gazing while pursing her immaculately made-up lips. It's rather puzzling why Odin disappears just when Helle has the greatest need of him, but Terence Stamp looks thoroughly disengaged and his mumbling lethargy contrasts starkly with Murray McArthur's scenery gnashing as Loki. Timo Nieminen makes a sneeringly effective villain, although it seems a little gratuitous to have him slay a naked woman in a moment of post-coital rage. Will Mellor and Paul Freeman also provide capable support, although the Vern/Tait subplot feels hugely contrived and one suspects that we may  never get to see how it plays out.

Grown-ups seeking a cinematic treat for their tinies during the first week of the school holidays could do a lot worse than check out The Incredible Story of the Giant Pear, an animated adaptation of a bestselling book by Danish author Jakob Martin Strid that has been directed with a lively sense of fun and a keen eye for the fantastical by Philip Einstein Lipski, Jørgen Lerdam and Amalie Næsby Fick. Seeking to teach audiences of all ages to base their decisions on facts rather than propaganda and rumour, this is an engaging fable for our fake news times.

Sebastian the elephant lives with Mithco the cat in a house he inherited from his great-grandfather in Sunnytown. Everyone is happy because the mayor, JB, is such a decent man. But, when he mysteriously disappears and deputy Twig takes over after an extensive search, things start to go down hill because Twig builds a skyscraping town hall that blots out the sun. 

One day, while fishing in the bay, Mithco catches a bottle that contains a message from JB revealing that he has washed up on Mysterious Island after adventures in the Pitch Black Sea with some pirates and a sea dragon. He encloses a seed that he urges the finder to plant. Rushing back to the house, Mithco buries the seed in the garden, while Sebastian realises that JB has landed on the same island that his great-grandfather was seeking when he went missing. 

During the night, the seed turns into a giant pear that is so big it almost knocks the house over. Sebastian calls Professor Glucose from the Atomic Institute and he transforms the fruit into a new home using the gadgets in his van. However, Twig objects to the large green edifice and, when it starts to roll down the hill, he charges after it with a fire engine, a tank, a police car and a man in a bathtub in his wake. But nothing can stop the pear from landing with a splash and floating out to sea. 

Twig is furious and tells army commander Colonel Rekyl that everything will change on Saturday when he becomes mayor. But Sebastian and Mithco have no intention of letting him assume power and set out for Mysterious Island using a sheet as a sail. However, Professor Glucose needs some batteries for his special compass and they are about to despair when they run into the Pernicious Pirates. Their tiny captain tries to capture Sebastian and Glucose , but Mithco bombards them with melons and he likes the taste so much that he starts singing a song and doesn't notice that his prisoners have slipped away with the batteries from the back of his ghettoblaster. 

While Glucose fires up the compass, a storm blows up and a large red sea dragon emerges from the swell and looms over the pear before swallowing it whole. Instead of finding themselves in the belly of a monster, however, the friends realise they are inside a mechanical marvel and they are invited to tea by its bushy bearded creator, Ulysses Karlsen. He is something of an eccentric with a passion for cooking and he promises to make them his famous curry dip after he shows them the stone from Mysterious Island that Glucose needs to power the compass. Karlsen reveals that he was given the stone by Sebastian's great-grandfather, who chose to leave the dragon by rowing boat rather than stay and become Karlsen's friend. But his hopes that his new guests will remain are quickly dashed and they manage to engineer an escape after causing a power failure. 

Naturally, the trip proves not to be plain sailing, as they drift into the Pitch Black Sea. Sebastian is scared when ghosts rise up from the sunken ships caught in the dense cloud. But he is relieved when one of the spirits turns out to be his great-grandfather, who takes the wheel. He shows Sebastian and Mitcho that sparkling lights and colours that exist within the morass and urges them to see things for themselves before reaching any conclusions. As he fades away, as the pear reaches open water again, he reminds Sebastian to always look for another way if he is confronted with a problem. 

Much to Sebastian's delight, he spies Mysterious Island through the binoculars. But the rocks guarding the entrance to the port are dangerous and the pear is wrecked. Wandering inland, they find a garden full of giant pears and are reunited with JB, who explains that he slipped and fell into a dinghy that was swallowed by a whale who deposited him on the island. He is concerned by the news of Twig's tyranny and suggests they head home right away. But Glucose can't repair the pear without his atomic van and Sebastian has a tantrum. As he stomps around, he falls down a hole and discovers a giant engine that can power the island back to Sunnytown. 

They pass through the Pitch Black Sea, with great-grandfather beaming with pride, and pick up Karlsen and the Pernicious Pirates. But, just as they are in sight of home, the engine conks out. Remembering the advice to find another way, Sebastian fires a message in a bottle, which Colonel Rekyl intercepts before Twig can destroy it. He refuses to fire the tank's gun to mark Twig's accession, but the ambitious deputy does it by himself and manages to destroy the Mysterious Island with the shell and knocks Sebastian and Mithco into the sea. 

Fortunately, the little cat who hates water swims down to save her friend and they float home on a pear. Meanwhile, Karlsen magics up the sea dragon and rescues everyone just as another giant pear hurtles through space and knocks a hole in the side of the town hall that lets the sun through once more. As the film ends, Glucose and JB celebrate in a new pear-shaped town hall, while Twig is allowed to keep his post on the proviso he behaves himself. Karlsen and the Pernicious Pirates settle into their new surroundings, while the sea dragon basks in the bay. And Mithco and Sebastian go fishing in the hope they can catch something that will spark a new adventure. 

Sadly, nobody has bothered to list the English-language voice cast anywhere, so their efforts will have to go unheralded. But the stars of the show are the directorial trio, who not only keep this far-fetched odyssey afloat, but also manage to do so without padding the action with the kind of wince-inducing ditties that detracted from David Stoten's Thomas & Friends Big World! Big Adventures! The Movie. They also make inspired use of cross-section shots that allow the audience to see the inner workings of the pear, the sea dragon and the Mysterious Island. 

It's hard to avoid the echoes from George Dunning's Yellow Submarine (1968), which has recently been restored to mark its 50th anniversary, and Henry Selick's animated version of Roald Dahl's James and the Giant Peach (1996). Moreover, Glucose bears a marked resemblance to Professor Pat Pending from The Wacky Races, while the pirates prove as incompetent as those who periodically menace Asterix the Gaul. Nevertheless, this is never less than imaginative and amusing and few will not be pleased to see the timid Sebastian overcome his fears and respond positively to whatever fate has to throw at him.

There's always a risk that a documentarist focusing on a member of their own family can be too close to the material to make any worthwhile judgements. Sadly, this proves to be the case with Tracking Edith, which first-time film-maker Peter Stephan Jungk has adapted from his book about his great aunt, The Dark Rooms of Edith Tudor-Hart. Although the name might not ring any bells, Tudor-Hart (1908-73) was a pioneering street photographer who sought to highlight the plight of children living in poverty in Vienna and London. However, she was also a Soviet agent and played a key role in the scandal involving the Cambridge spies. 

Opening with a shadowy figure walking through a sewer in noirish light, Jungk draws an irresistible parallel between the worlds of Harry Lime in Carol Reed's The Third Man (1949) and his great aunt, who had been born Edith Suschitzky in Vienna in 1908. Her father owned a bookshop and a small publishing house specialising in progressive tomes. However, Edith was more radical in her views and joined the Young Communist Party before training under educationalist Maria Montessori in London. A rather tacky monochrome animation shows Edith playing music with some of her students at the Montessori School in Vienna, as stepson Julian Tudor-Hart and photography historian Duncan Forbes (from the National Galley of Scotland) discuss they way in which she composed her images with the Rollieflex camera that had been given to her by lover, Arnold Deutsch.

When he relocates to Moscow in 1929, Edith devotes herself to photography and trained under Josef Albers at the Bauhaus in Dessau. She also took painting lessons with Wassily Kandinsky and Paul Klee and was an active member of the Communist KOSTUFRA organisation. However, when left-leaning mentor Hannes Meyer was expelled, Edith quit her studies and stayed in London with married medical student, Alexander Tudor-Hart. Shortly after they attended a Communist rally, however, Edith was deported and she returned to Vienna, where she became the official photographic correspondent for the Soviet news agency, TASS.

While recording the rise of right-wing forces in her homeland, Edith became a courier for the KGB. She also lured Tudor-Hart away from his first wife and they set up home as Austrian Chancellor Engelbert Dollfuss was attempting to ban all Communist activity. Over an animated reconstruction, historian Barry McLoughlin describes how Edith was arrested on 16 May 1933 and her famed cinematographer brother, Wolfgang Suschitzky, claims that she never spoke about it and he was surprised when details of her clandestine life were eventually revealed. 

Around this time, old friend Litzi Friedmann introduced Edith to recent Cambridge graduate Kim Philby. They married around the time Edith became Mrs Tudor-Hart and both couples returned to London after Litzi was arrested for her participation in protests against the government. Espionage specialist Nigel West and Litzi's daughter, Barbara Honigmann, discuss the bonds between Edith, Litzi and Philby and how these intensified after the latter was introduced to Deutsch in a Regent's Park in 1934. However, West and ex-KGB agent Alexander Vassiliev have markedly different views on what makes a good spy. 

Continuing to work as a photographer, Edith visited the backstreets of Brixton and recorded hunger marches in Welsh mining communities. She also raised her son, Tommy, after Tudor-Hart volunteered as a medic in the Spanish Civil War and she was forced to move to Swiss Cottage because she was earning so little from commercial assignments. Moreover, she was also running the network formed by Deutsch, who had returned to Moscow. West claims she was pivotal in monitoring the activities of the Cambridge Five: Philby, Donald Maclean, Guy Burgess, John Cairncross and Anthony Blunt. 

Former KGB officer Igor Prelin declares that the quality of information that Edith's protégés passed on was unsurpassed and suggests that her contribution wasn't fully appreciated by her handlers. Keen to see the records for himself, Jungk travels to Moscow. But, while he wishes Jungk luck in his endeavours, Valeri Chepelev, the Vice Director of the Comintern Archive, suspects he is wasting his time. Denied access to records that had been made public shortly after the collapse of the Soviet Union, Jungk seeks out Irina Scherbakova, who works for the human rights charity, Memorial. He asks why Edith would have been so loyal to a country she never visited and an ideology she must have known was responsible for famines and purges in the 1930s. Scherbakova suggests that many foreigners were duped by Soviet propaganda, but she can understand why they would have thrown in their lot with the Communists when Fascism posed such a threat.

Back in wartime London, Edith had separated from her husband and had embarked upon an affair with Donald Winnicott, who was assessing Tommy's mental health after he started having problems around the age of five. Psychoanalysts Felix De Mendelssohn and Kitty Schmidt Löw-Beer discuss the case and the romance without drawing any definitive conclusions. Instead, Jungk moves on to explain how the MI5 had been keeping tabs on Edith and had even interviewed her in 1952 when Philby came under suspicion. Apparently, she had a nervous breakdown around this time, but managed to maintain her cover and enjoyed a degree of critical acclaim for the photographs she produced for a Ministry of Health study of how children move and grow. 

Yet, as Vassiliev contends, Edith has been passing information about the British atomic programme to ex-lover and leading Austrian physicist Engelbert Broda. He meets with son Paul Broda in Edinburgh and they concur that by passing secrets to Moscow to enable the USSR to build a bomb by 1949 that Edith, Broda and their circle had prevented calamity, as no atomic or nuclear bombs were dropped during the Cold War and Vassilliev, Broda and Prelin are in no doubt that those who risked all to preserve peace should be considered heroes rather than traitors. 

Niece Julia Donat and nephews Mischa Donat and Peter Suschitzky describe how Edith was under immense pressure during the later stage of her life, as she lived in constant fear of exposure. She burned the bulk of her photographic negatives and never forgave sister Ilona Suschitzky for committing her to an asylum. Yet, she refuses to take money from the Soviets, even though she has been barred from working for the press or any publishing houses. Consequently, she left London to open an antique shop in Brighton and was only bothered by the intelligence agencies again when Philby and Blunt were rumbled, although nothing was ever proved against her.

In 1973, Edith died of liver cancer and her ashes were scattered by a member of the crematorium staff because no one came to claim them from the family. Wolfgang admits to having a poor relationship with his sister because she was so intense, but Julia Donat admits to feeling rather excited when Peter Wright named her aunt in Spycatcher (1987). Such mixed feelings generate a sense of sadness that permeates a memoir that scrupulously avoids passing any form of moral judgement. Jungk is clearly fascinated by Edith's double life, but he is too inexperienced a film-maker to find the right tone to convey his sentiments. He also feels the need to be part of the story and frequently appears on camera, with his travails in Moscow feeling like an unnecessary digression that should have been replaced with further in-depth analysis of Edith's photography and how it reflected her political sympathies. 

The talking-head contributions are solid enough, while editor Bettina Mazakarini capably interweaves the interviews and archive material. But the inclusion of Benjamin Swiczinsky's animations feel like a major miscalculation, as the wide eyes of the characters have a sentimentalising effect that sits awkwardly with the events under discussion. Edith Tudor-Hart was a complex personality and it's possible to envisage her life being dramatised. But, despite Michael Haneke's praise for this `amazing quest', never quite does justice to either Edith or the cause for which she risked so much.

Finally, this week, Dochouse presents Hao Wu's People's Republic of Desire, which examines the Chinese phenomenon of live-streaming celebrity via the YY platform, which has made so much money for its performers and their entourages that it is currently listed on the NASDAQ index of leading shares. Bombarding the viewer with images and information, Hao revisits the themes of ambition and acceptance that informed his previous outings, Beijing or Bust (2005) and The Road to Fame (2013), which respectively followed six Chinese Americans seeking success in the capital city and the applicants hoping for a place at the nation's leading drama academy. 

Live streaming is all the rage in China and aspiring stars apply to platforms like YY for a room from which to host their shows. In return for this free entertainment, fans reward their favourites with online gifts that have a monetary value for both YY and their clients. As performers develop a fan base, they provide information on the status of their followers and exploit any connections with powerful people to promote their brand. 

Based in the western city of Chengdu and armed with just a laptop and a webcam, 21 year-old Shen Man has become a superstar through essentially singing karaoke from her bedroom. Her father has no idea why the trainee nurse has become such a sensation. But he's glad she has, as he had endured two years on the dole and now enjoys a comfortable lifestyle, while his daughter fends off inquiries about her love life and her upcoming boob job. 

Like Shen, 24 year-old comedian Big Li earns $400,000 a month. He is married to Dabao, who recruits and trains hosts for YY, and he thanks his admirers for allowing him to become a father because he was a pot-bellied loser before he became an online hit. Unapologetically loud and brash, Li has become known as the King of the diaosi, a term of derision for nerds that has been self-deprecatingly reclaimed as a badge of social honour. Among his subjects is Yong, who earns $400 a month in a massage parlour in Guangzhou (which was formerly known as Canton). Having been raised by his grandparents, Yong admits to feeling lonely and he logs on to YY for some human contact and enjoys the fact that Big Li seems to understand his life. 

As a former construction worker and hotel bouncer, Li has had his struggles since leaving Hebei and we see him dining with his grateful family. Shen takes her father and stepmother to a restaurant, while he reveals that she refuses to talk about the mother who abandoned them. Instead, Shen explains about the wealthy patrons known as `tuhao', who shower their favourites with largesse. Among them is Songge, an obese profiteer from Jinan, who enjoys the fact that the diaosi think he's cool for splashing his cash on YY. 

Each year, YY holds a competition to determine who is the most popular host across a range of categories. Both Li and Shen are hoping to do well, as a good showing determines earnings for the following year. Yet, all they have to do to accrue votes is to appeal to their fans to spend as much money as they can on their campaigns. Shen seems to be doing well, but Li is lagging behind and Dabao explains that he may need support from the talent agency that promotes him. But he slips to third and Dabao worries that his failure to take top spot for a third year will impact upon his popularity. 

By contrast, Shen wins first prize and gets the full red carpet treatment at the YY awards ceremony. The TV news is full of stories about the live streaming bubble and one bulletin reveals that over 540,000 people tuned in to watch a baby girl eat her breakfast. Sensing that there is big money to be made (as agents take 20% of a host's earnings), Songge buys an agency and enjoys the acclaim he receives from plugging his artistes. But Li is having a tough time and Dabao reveals that he disappeared for a few weeks after trashing their car and computer. With his fans posting messages about how poor his show has become, Li pines for the simple days of being a migrant worker with some pals and no pressure. 

In reality, Yong is finding his new warehouse job exhausting. But the money is better and he gets two days off a month. He feels sorry for Li drifting off the radar, but only has admiration for Shen, who has become the richest host on the YY platform. Her father beams at the fact that a tuhao named Caterpillar keeps lavishing gifts upon her. But, even though she has bought them a new apartment, he also nags her about making the most of her window of opportunity and storing up as much money as possible before she returns to being a nobody. 

While Shen feels the pressure of staying on top and dealing with both catty remarks from the diaosi and crude invitations from the tuhao, Li remains determined to claw his way back to the top. He bickers with Dabao and threatens to slap her when she berates him for slobbing around on the sofa and she despairs of him ever finding a powerful patron like YY Fish. However, he is taken on by Fa Ge of Lanyu and attends the third annual meeting of his fan club with renewed enthusiasm. Yong is thrilled to be staying in a posh hotel and his excitement contrasts with the sense of entitlement, as Shen holidays with Dabao and confesses to the amount of plastic surgery she's had done to her face. She also admits to an affair with one of her patrons and Dabao warns her that a scandal could decimate her status. 

Shortly afterwards, Shen makes the headlines when a lover goes public and rumours of her promiscuity lead to her gaining the nickname `300 Men'. She bites back at the sniping on her wall, but it's soon clear she's fighting a losing battle and even Songge worries that her days are numbered. Yet one host had a threesome online to attract fans, while another slashed her wrists and filmed her hospital dash. 

As the YY annual competition approaches, Shen is bent on retaining her crown. Yong also hopes that Li can finally top the poll, even though he has separated from Dabao and is living in Hebei. He seems on lively form, however, and his shows have started to pull in the big bucks again. Venture capitalists have started investing in YY's stars and Shen's father confides that the sums involved are ludicrous. But the hosts still plead with the diaosi to cast their votes, as every one counts.

Shen breaks down during a television interview, as she recalls how poor the family was after her father went bankrupt. But she insists she is just an ordinary person who got lucky, as she isn't that pretty and doesn't sing particularly well. Yong watches transfixed as Li takes on defending champion Picasso and lets out a shriek when his hero personally thanks him on air for his contribution. But, even though Li has used some of his savings to buy votes for himself, Fa Ge seems reluctant to boost the campaign. After a solid start, Shen also falls behind Wenjing and she is ready to concede defeat. 

After 15 days of exhausting lobbying, the results are announced and some of Li's backers are furious with him because Fa Ge failed to bail him out and they feel as though they have been scammed. Shen also loses, as the news networks carry stories about the steep rise in YY's value. CEO Chen Zhou reveals that he has a million hosts on his platform and 105 million active users. He feels live streaming allows people to release their pent-up energy and connect with others after a hard day's work. 

But Shen's father thinks the whole business is becoming a scam, as the big players are only interested in huge payouts and this creates a disconnect between the hosts and their fans. Shen has decided to take a break and her loyal followers promise to wait for her, while Yong cries along with Li when he assures his supporters that he has done nothing to cheat them out of their money. He swears never to compete again, but he ends his show with a jaunty tune and who knows what he will decide to do next and whether Dabao and his son figure in his plans. 

Flashing past in something of a bewildering blur, this is a deeply disconcerting study of a bizarre fad that suggests just how much crazier the democratisation of entertainment has to become before the whole virtual reality circus implodes. Neither Shen nor Li appears to be particularly talented, but the same accusation could be levelled at any number of radio DJs and television presenters. However, they both have personality to spare and, in their craven need to be loved, seem to have an innate appreciation of how to appeal to the kind of ordinary people they were themselves before fate decreed that they should become cyber superstars.  

Despite the audiovisual onslaught (which comes courtesy of digital artist Eric Jordan), many viewers will find themselves none the wiser about how live streaming works or why it has captured the imagination of the planet's biggest population. But the fact that traditional forms of home entertainment appear to be in terminal decline suggests that the future lies in interactive popularity contests of this kind. After all, where would Britain's Got Talent or Strictly Come Dancing be without their phone and text voters? 

Serving as his own editor, Hao Wu maintains a cracking pace throughout and builds the suspense splendidly during the two YY contest sequences. However, we never really get to know Shen or Li, let alone her father and his spouse, while more time might have been spent with Yong and the other diaosi who fritter their hard-earned yuan on idols who barely acknowledge their existence. It's interesting to note how they often use their anonymity to insult the hosts and how they treat destroying somebody's reputation (and, potentially, their livelihood and their sanity) as if they were playing a consequence-free video game. But that's the mad world we live in and we only have ourselves to blame.