Shot in Waco, TX, a town that adds real texture and personality to the screen, Richie convinces a foreman to give him a job on his construction site, and then pools what scraps of money he can get together to pay the advance on a room in one of the least desirable neighbourhoods in town. Richie – at least for now – is able to keep his head above ground.

But then it was never going to actually be that easy, and almost simultaneously come his saviour and his curse. A chance meeting sees Richie befriend Joan (Imogen Poots), a well-off 20-something working through some issues of her own. While he also meets Swim, an eccentric drifter and the devil on the other shoulder, who pulls Richie back into a life of petty crime, just when everything had been looking so good.

Building to a hugely powerful conclusion, with Richie feeling trapped by his circumstances, when he breaks for the Texan desert, the film swaps 3:2 for anamorphic widescreen, a striking visual metaphor for his newfound sense of freedom. In fact the whole film looks visually stunning, written and directed by longtime Terrence Mallick collaborator, A.J. Edwards, you can see Mallick’s visual style has rubbed off on Edwards with tremendous effect.

The film rests on very mature, moving performances from Tye Sheridan and Imogen Poots, though Caleb Landry Jones strays the wrong side of the line, and his melodrama does come close to overpowering the film.

Friday’s Child is a nuanced film; a beautiful yet sobering, even haunting piece. The film opens with real-life interviews with foster children, and Friday’s Child is an honest look at the issue of aging out, how some ki ds are just expected to forge a path on their own, without the necessarily guidance and support. And how sometimes we have to find a way to forgive, even in impossible circumstances.

Picking up with our heroine, Ruth (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), an addict on the run who tries to kick her habit, only to reveal what she was really trying to hide, a mysterious super power. Taking off without a second thought, Ruth is back on the road, but with the world in tough shape it’s not long before she has to make a stop.

Gas is in short supply, though not as short as water, with a litre costing $12, sold in old containers with elastic bands and rags for lids. Her second stop is at a diner for food, but when an interaction with a passer by turns sour and the authorities pick up the chase, Ruth has just one place left to go – probably the only place they won’t think to look – back home.

A moving story that doesn’t play it’s hand until it’s deemed absolutely necessarily, Fast Color is an intelligent sci-fi thriller that explores the concept of home, family, and what makes us who we are. Co-writer/director Julia Hart has crafted a low-key supernatural world about creation, not destruction – so refreshing when right now you can’t turn your head in Hollywood for yet another Marvel or DC franchise release.

The cast are breathtaking, from Gugu Mbatha-Raw in the lead, to her mother played by Lorraine Toussaint, and young Saniyya Signey as Lila. All give carefully considered performances, with enough personality on their own, yet also fit together like meticulous puzzle. Christopher Denham’s Bill is a haunting secret agent on Ruth’s tail, while David Strathairn is reliable as ever when he comes into the film late on.

The production design is exquisite, and the world building subtly introduces life in this world, with some really nice touches of dystopia.

If you’re pushed to find any gripes, it’s perhaps that Fast Color proves to be a little one-track come the conclusion. Very segmented from act to act, it could have done with a supplementary narrative to give it that extra depth in the run up to the end. But that is nit-picking,  and Fast Colour is a smart, engaging and though-provoking sci-fi thriller, that brings new ideas to the table and doesn’t shy away from visceral set-pieces along the way.

But after a successful first date, Elliot gets results from the doctors to find out he has bone cancer, as Shotgun follows the young couple throw themselves into one another, because it’s the only way either knows how to deal with it.

Written and directed by Hannah Marks and Joey Power, the double act have created a whirlwind romance that’s honest and true. They have a fresh and exciting voice, and shoot the film with a frenetic, kinetic style that mirrors the central couple. Elliot and Mia race each other to the finish line, growing up a little too fast, and spend the final act of the movie trying to dial it back, with mixed results.

By now if you’re up to date on Shameless, it’s hard to watch Jeremy Allen White on-screen and not see Lip Gallagher, but that actually works here too. You could see Lip in New York, living this life, though his performance certainly doesn’t require you to be a Shameless fan to get it. Scream queen Maika Munroe is Allen’s perfect foil. Here more dorky and almost morkish against the devil-may-care Elliot, she has boring job at a marketing toothpaste company, and doesn’t seem to fit with her mean girl flatmates.

Given tough subject matter to work through, the chemistry between the pair is palpable, each giving wonderful, stirring performances. The film is almost a one-track mind in it’s focus on the couple, treating everyone and everything outside the relationship with an almost irreverent tone. With their friends obsessed with trash TV or getting drunk at parties, the cancer diagnosis throws the couple tumbling forward together, in a way only young love can, but Munroe and White treat it with so much honesty and compassion it’s as if they have been through the situation themselves.

Shotgun is an honest, whirlwind of a romance, where you know deep down, it’s not healthy, it won’t work out. And yet the film is a wh olly captivating watch, there’s real character and style in the direction, a new voice, bringing an honest, often heart-wrenching tone to what can be a very tried and tested genre.

Witnessing the inner working of Giacometti’s process – and rather chaotic life – at first Lord is flattered and enthused by the opportunity. But when days become weeks, and weeks become months with still no end in sight, when Giacometti paints over much of the work with white paint so as to start again, Lord finds himself looking for ways to speed things up, and force Giacometti’s hand to completion.

A film about an auteur, by an auteur, the meticulous level of detail in Giacometti’s process is matched by Tucci’s capture of the story. It is a film patiently told, even if that directly contradicts Giacometti’s own erratic, tortured style, with Armie Hammer’s Lord absorbing everything thrown at him. It creates a compelling examination of the creative process, in equal parts agonising and it is engaging, all intentional by craftsman Stanley Tucci, for whom this has been a long-term passion project.

Geoffrey Rush superbly portrays Giacometti as a tortured, frustrating character, with Hammer as suave and sophisticated as you’d expect sitting on the other side of the easel. Sylvie Testud and Clémence Poésy are particularly brilliant too, respectively playing Giacometti’s wife and lover, and sharing a remarkable amount of time on-screen together.

I would normally say a film is darkly comic, but this is more darkly amusing. Final Portrait is a smart, intense and meticulous examination of the int angibles of the creative process, written with wit and performed with class. And I think a whole lot more enjoyable than to play Giacometti’s muse, with no end in sight.