She, dislikes the job, but is persisting with it because the money allows her a flexible lifestyle in Paris, and the time to repeatedly visit the old, creaking house where her twin brother died. Maureen and her brother were not only twins, but twin mediums. Maureen is waiting for a sign from her dead brother to confirm that he has ‘moved on’.

The film is a concoction of multiple genres, and has a genetic connection to haunted-house horror films, although filtered through a lens of cerebral drama and Hitchcockian suspense. These elements blend into what is primarily a character study – just what is Maureen really waiting for, and why? To what extent is what we know about her true? These are clearly tropes of the psychological thriller genre, but Assayas renders them in a fresh, engaging drama.

This is Stewart’s second role in an Assayas film, and there are cosmetic similarities between the characters she plays, most obviously that Maureen, like Valentine in Clouds of Sils Maria, is in the service of a celebrity. This is a different, more tightly wound performance, though, and Stewart again is very convincing. Whereas in Clouds of Sils Maria she was required to spar intellectually with Juliette Binoche’s actress, here she is very much the centre of the film, both physically and emotionally. She, along with the convincing tone established by Assayas – helps carry the film through its potentially risible elements.

Personal Shopper is a balancing act between the supernatural and the real, and Assayas handles the switches in tone well. Maureen believes her job is simply a necessity to keep her ticking over while she deals with her brother’s absence, but we quickly realise there may be more to it than that. It’s impressive that the atmosphere is maintained whether Maureen is wandering around a spooky house or sitting on a train reading text messages (in what is an effective, if overly protracted, sequence) and Assayas and Stewart hold everything together right up to the nicely staged conclusion.

If there is a significant issue with the film, it’s that the disparate elements work together only up to a certain point, and as a result Personal Shopper is neither truly scary or emotionally involving. But having said that, I enjoyed the blend of genres and appreciated the fact that Assayas was trying something bold. That boldness, couple with Stewart’s winning lead performance, make Personal Shopper worth a look.

But while it may not be to everybody’s tastes – it’s a considered, slow-moving film – Paterson, for me, succeeds in creating a tone that is very much its own, and by practising exceptional levels of dramatic restraint, delivers a ponderous, thoughtful experience, much like the ones in its protagonist’s head.

Jim Jarmusch’s new film stars Adam Driver as Paterson, a mild-mannered, likeable everyman living in the city that shares his name in New Jersey. We follow a week of his life, as each morning he wakes up with his artistic wife, Laura (Goldshifteh Farahani), and heads off to do his work driving a bus around the local streets. After finishing work, Paterson has dinner with his wife and then goes out to take their dog for a walk and have a solitary beer at a local bar. From time to time, as he goes through his day, we hear Paterson reciting lines of his poetry to us, often delivered in the form of unfinished thoughts or revisited lines.

That’s the setup, but also pretty much the plot. This is not a film with a superfluity of narrative to get through – just a simple idea portrayed in a convincing way. What makes it work is Jarmusch’s handling of tone, both in his direction and in his writing, and Adam Driver’s very subtle but subtly effective performance. There is no great emoting in here, no moments of hysterical drama – what we see is an excerpt from the life of an ordinary, and quietly interesting, man.

What I enjoyed about the film’s tone was how it floated through Paterson’s life by way of repetitive but slightly reworked shots, overheard conversations on buses and in bars, and the appearances of supporting cast members in the bar Paterson visits, which give the film a sense of community. Everything is wrapped up in an atmosphere of wistfulness – though not one that dwells on sadness; just a simple acceptance of moving through life – which is complemented by the delicate score.

It’s the overall tone of the piece that strikes as you watch, and that tone softens potentially negative elements such as the lack of character arcs or real development; indeed, it may be precisely the point that such things can be ignored without doing damage to the piece. The film depicts a quiet life, adopts a quiet  manner in which to tell it, and is subtly affecting in doing so. It won’t be for everybody, and could perhaps have been edited down a little, but as a tonal piece it really works.

The only problem is that she doesn’t have a boyfriend, so she attempts to artificially inseminate herself using a donation from an old acquaintance, Guy (Travis Fimmel).

Things are complicated by a chance meeting with John, a “ficto-critical anthropologist” (Ethan Hawke), whose marriage to Georgette (Julianne Moore) is creaking at the seams. Maggie and John quickly begin to enjoy each others’ company, to the point that Maggie’s plan starts to change. We then jump forward a couple of years to see how all the characters are getting on.

The triumph of Miller’s film comes from the meeting of a great cast with a sensitive, clever script that treats them all with remarkable even-handedness. There are no heroes or villains here; Miller is happy to let her characters fumble through their lives without singling any of them out for special treatment. So Maggie is smart and determined, but also controlling and afraid of imbalance; John is a borderline genius but has issues with self-absorption, and so on. Even Georgette, who initially appears to be the comic relief, is formulated by Moore into a rounded and likeable character. There’s also some lovely support from Bill Hader and Maya Rudolph as a bickering but loving couple who Maggie frequently turns to for advice.

In the first act, the film comes across as a little too quirky too quickly, but settles into itself. There are plenty of laughs along the way courtesy of the witty script, and by the end I found myself thoroughly enjoying the company of this cast – at times, its gentle warmth reminded me of a Woody Allen film. Gerwig, in particular, is on great form as Maggie, an d carries the film through its occasionally bitty narrative. The very last shot of the film is perhaps a tad too fairytale, but it’s not much of a bum note and still draws a smile.