In Mumbai, energetic young Amir (Khattar) is so self-assured that he stands up to his gangster boss Rahoul (Shende), demanding to be paid for delivering drugs. Offended, Rahoul sends his goons after Amir, who hides out with his sister Tara (Mohanan), herself a refugee from an abusive marriage. When Tara's boss Akshi (Ghose) assaults her, she defends herself and ends up in prison facing a murder charge if Akshi dies. As Amir ends up helping Akshi's mother and daughters, Tara befriends her cellmate's son Chotu, who has never known life outside the jail.

Despite some rather overwrought plotting and uneven performances, there's an earthy realism to the film that makes it thoroughly involving. Amir is such a cocky, charismatic young man that it's both enjoyable and challenging to follow him on his odyssey. The film's momentum only flags when it cuts away from him to the perpetually panicky Tara, whose journey is much simpler by comparison. So Mohanan's performance feels rather limited. But Khattar is so engaging that he can't help but win over the audience, even when he contemplates something unthinkable.

In each scene, Majidi finds artful visual angles, frequently using shadows cast on sheets, glass and walls to tell the story. Many of the more involving moments involve young children who are unable to fully grasp these momentous events, so it's a strong statement when a caring adult, often a complete stranger, takes the time to offer them a little help. But then there's a real sense of powerlessness among all of the characters. Oddly, Amir has the most possibilities, because he has some money, ill-gotten as it may be.

It's also intriguing that, while there's a clear sense of moral right and wrong in various actions Amir takes, the script never contrives to punish him or make him see the error of his ways. He's dealing drugs and working with a gangster because that's the only way for him to survive in this city; it's the system itself that is morally in the wrong, repeatedly punishing helpless children, downtrodden women and smart poor people who can't get a break. In other words, this is a story that easily transcends its setting.

As Baghdad's main train station prepares to reopen in December 2006, Sara (Ghandour) stands in the ticket hall ready to ignite her explosive vest. But she's surrounded by people: timid shoe-shine boy Ali and his annoying flower-seller sister Mona (Hayder and Huda And Al Ameer), a musician (Khassaf) and his lost love (Mahdi), a reluctant teen bride (Hussen) and her angry mother (Imran), and chatty salesman Salam (Jabarah). Then as American soldiers pursue a young woman (Qasim), she hands her bag to Sara, who is startled to find a baby inside.

Everything about this film is so constructed that it never feels very realistic, so there isn't much suspense even as the odyssey becomes very tense. The issue is that each character represents a specific type, and they're brought together in ways that aren't remotely organic. In this sense, it feels more like a play than a movie, even though it's shot in remarkably realistic settings.

Similarly, performances are somewhat heightened, as filmmaker Daradji frequently zooms in on expressive faces to show how everyone is stressed-out about whatever might happen next. But everyone is engaging and easy to identify with, especially as they grapple with larger issues swirling so forcefully around them. Ghandour's Sara is a notably sympathetic character, letting us see the complex reasons why someone might choose to set off a suicide bomb as well as the difficult path to the realisation that she might be making a mistake.

There are several elements here that feel a little simplistic, such as the presence of these cheeky young children and a crying baby, all of whom of course make Sara pause in her mission. And other characters, such as the bride, aren't developed beyond their basic premise. But the tetchy interaction between Sara and the likeable Salam is thoroughly engaging, taking some unexpected turns along the way. And the subject matter is so important that this film simply can't be ignored.

In the mid-60s, as his fans begin to think he's lost his touch, Jean-Luc (Garrel) falls for 18-year-old actress Anne (Martin), who stars in his poorly received Maoist treatise Le Chinoise. Both defensive and self-critical, Jean-Luc can't understand why he offends everyone, continually needing to apologise for his harsh remarks. He's passionate about French society, involved in the riots until the students turn on him. And he drives the adoring Anne crazy with his obsessive pretentiousness, then wallows in jealousy as she shoots a film in Italy. Will that be the final straw?

The title refers to a news story the couple quotes to each other about the dull inevitability of life on the eponymous submarine: "Such is life for the crew of the Redoubtable." It's a nice reminder of the absurdity of everyday existence, which Hazanavicius expresses through witty flourishes. From blink-and-you'll-miss-it references to full-on stylised sequences, the film is a riot of cinematic history, mashed together with tongue firmly in cheek. But this leaves the characters feeling cartoonish.

Garrel and Martin are terrific, adding little gags and unspoken moments between the clever banter. Garrel plays Jean-Luc as a brainy movie geek who thinks he's the smartest man in any room, which leaves him looking like a petulant brat, especially since his troubles are mainly played for laughs. Martin is more likeable, but is also rather enigmatic. Aside from her youth, it's not easy to see what Jean-Luc sees in her, and their relationship only has brief moments of believability. Side characters are well-played, but barely register.

This is a great-looking film that plays with big ideas about youth, freedom and revolutionary ideas in art. It's shot on an impressive scale that frequently takes the breath away, and it's packed with pungent conversations about political ideas. But what makes it fun to watch is the way Hazanavicius plays with light and colour, teasing dialog and slapstick running gags. In other words, this is a movie that makes us fall in love with cinema, but certainly not with Godard.

While studying in a university library, Themla (Harboe) has a severe seizure, but no history of epilepsy. Perhaps it's stress relating to her difficulty in making friends. So her kind but very religious parents (Rafaelsen and Petersen) encourage her to be friendlier. Then she meets Anja (Wilkins), who introduces her to a group of friends. Intriguingly, Thelma seems to have some sort of sixth-sense connection with Anja, but their friendship grows stronger, the romantic feelings terrify Thelma, because of her Christian background. Meanwhile, the doctors can't figure out why she's still having seizures.

Trier unsettles the audience right from the freaky opening with a young Thelma (Eltervag) and her father on an icy hunting trip. Eerie touches emerge in virtually every scene, from glimpses of unexplained weirdness to a striking use of light and colour. Nature itself seems to be plotting something, with swarms of birds and slithering snakes. All of this is gorgeously well-shot and edited, with a seductive visual sensibility that draws us into Thelma's story, seeing everything through her observant eyes.

Harboe gives a beautifully introspective performance, sharply revealing Thelma's thoughts and feelings in a jarringly understated way. It's as if she's blankly unaware of her own power because she's been taught to ignore it. Opposite her, Wilkins is cleverly enigmatic as Anja, whose mere presence challenges everything Thelma has been taught to believe. As Thelma's parents, Rafaelsen and Petersen are both harsh and a little too conciliatory, and the implications in their history add some astonishing undertones of suspense and emotion.

With its terrifying revelations and implications, the film increasingly echoes both Carrie and The Twilight Zone, most strongly in her relationship with her parents. Her father tells her to stretch her wings then urges her to stay in touch with who she is, but she has no idea who she is. And as the story continues, some nightmarish twists push her to a better understanding. So on top of the riveting drama, this is also a provocatively resonant look at the dangers of inflicting guilt and repression.