THE STRANGE CASE OF ANGELICA (PORTUGAL/2010/MANOEL DE OLIVEIRA)

Isaac works as a photographer whose role it is to take the ‘final’ pictures of people’s loved ones. Having been hired by a particularly wealthy family to photograph the body of the recently married Angélica, Isaac finds himself inappropriately fixated on the resultant images. As he attempts to return to normality, heading to vineyards to photograph the local workers, Isaac is constantly haunted by the image of this beautiful woman he never knew. His behaviour grows more erratic, and an unfortunate episode during one of his photography expeditions confirms the extent of his manic infatuation.

This being the latest film of many by prolific 102-year-old director Manoel de Oliveira, The Strange Case of Angelica is evidence of a well-lived career in film. De Oliveira establishes mood magnificently, the first ten minutes of the film dominated by the sound and presence of nighttime rain, and a plot about photography gives a great excuse for some superb images of the Douro countryside. With the collaboration of cinematographer Sabine Lancelin, who has lensed several of his productions, de Oliveira composes each scene like a tableau, restricting movement to maintain the illusion of a painting come to life. Disappointingly, as with several of the director’s most recent pictures, Angelica is too stoical to convince emotionally, especially in the film’s fantastical moments – for example, Isaac’s imagined meeting with Angélica comes off more farcical than magical. Though not totally devoid of enjoyment, Angelica requires considerable patience, and the third act is likely to leave one wanting.

20,000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA (FRANCE/1907/GEORGES MÉLIÈS)

Fantasy cinema will always trace its roots back to early special effects wizard Georges Méliès, whose works still have relevance in some circles today. His best known works often used Jules Verne’s adventure stories as a template, embellishing them with appropriately surreal visuals, and most if not all of these projects were shot in a customised warehouse. 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea is no exception, taking as its basis one of Verne’s most adapted works. The U.S. government sends a team of scientists to investigate a spate of sunken ships. The mission uncovers a world of underwater marvels, but as the men entertain themselves with their new environment, they fall prey to its unforeseen dangers.

Without the luxury of time, any retelling of a Verne tale is a bit abrupt and doesn’t have the draw that the books do. Accepting time as a limitation, Méliès uses his imagination to create a visually active backdrop evocative of a thriving submarine habitat. As in many of Méliès’ films, the fantastical aspects of the story are helped along by a bevy of dancing girls, and their constant movements against a psychedelic background make for a hypnotic effect. The film is bookended by scenes which explain the purpose and outcome of the characters as in the book, but one feels that Captain Nemo should have featured more. It might not measure up to later feature-length adaptations, but Méliès’ film is an entertaining, if slightly too brief jaunt. Look out for the menacing giant crab.

THE MIDNIGHT DRIVES (UK/2007/MARK JENKIN)

Andy, a downtrodden man estranged from his ex-wife, gets custody of his children for a week, and decides to take them on holiday to a remote Cornish resort he had frequented as a child. Casey, the younger of Andy’s kids, shows clear resentment for him and even calls his mother to bring them back home, while Gabby seems more concerned with the word ‘holiday’ than the word ‘Dad’. Despite his continual efforts to ignite the kids’ enthusiasm, Andy soon learns that childhood pursuits have evolved quicker than expected. As he struggles to regain his sense of fatherhood, the holiday looks to be turning into a disaster, but when night falls, the family suddenly grows closer as Andy takes the kids on a series of spontaneous drives through the nocturnal landscape.

Wonderfully shot with a palette of reserved colours, The Midnight Drives has much more in common with European film trends than with British kitchen-sink realism. Director Mark Jenkin reveals little about his characters beyond their activities during the holiday, but the film is stronger for it – through revisiting a childhood haunt with his own children, Andy is seen as a man trying to start things again, and it seems only right that this is the version of events we should see. At times the film is a little too subtle to make a big impact, but for the most part it appeals to its audience’s sensitivities. Gently dramatic and full of intrigue, The Midnight Drives is a trip worth taking.

THE TALE OF THE FOX (FRANCE/1930/WŁADYSŁAW STAREWICZ, IRENE STAREWICZ)

Narrated by a bespectacled monkey, animator Władysław Starewicz’s only feature-length animation concerns the story of Renard, a mischievous fox who wreaks havoc in the kingdom of animals. After repeatedly receiving complaints about Renard stealing the food of others and bullying those more vulnerable than himself, King Lion puts him on trial to give him the opportunity to defend his actions. Naturally, the jury is unwilling to hear him out, and Renard is thrown down a well. Unaware that his wife is being pursued by an amorous lute-playing cat, the King legislates that no animal should have the right to eat another, and that love shall reign supreme. After managing to escape the well, Renard returns to his nefarious ways, and the King resorts to more violent measures to stop him.

Without discrediting Wes Anderson too much, the aesthetic of his interpretation of Fantastic Mr. Fox is very clearly inspired by The Tale of the Fox, and it is actually the latter which comes out on top visually. Even the humour is darker here, with such bizarre sights as a topless burlesque-dancing mouse and Renard seducing a hen so that he can eat her. Starewicz’s animation and set design are, as ever, difficult to fault, particularly in the bell-tower battle sequence at the end. One issue with the film is that Renard is such an unrelentingly evil character who is forgiven purely for his ingenuity, but if one views it as a cartoon rather than a social allegory, it becomes inconsequential.

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE (USA/2009/SPIKE JONZE)

Adapted from the much-loved children’s book, Where The Wild Things Are follows Max, a mischievous 9-year-old who finds great difficulty in connecting with others. After a day of feeling neglected by his family, Max dons a wolf costume and playfully bites his mother on the shoulder, but when she reacts by yelling at him, he runs away from the house. Tears cascading from his eyes, he finds a dilapidated boat, and sails through the night until he comes across an island. His insatiable curiosity leads him to a forest where he encounters the Wild Things, a group of large monsters with animalistic traits. Though initially sceptical, the Wild Things accept Max’s childish bravado as a noble characteristic and declare him their new king. But just as Max believes he has this microcosm under his control, his new friends prove to be more vulnerable than expected.

The film is gorgeous to look at, and the extensive efforts put into animating the Wild Things appropriately have definitely paid off. Director Spike Jonze captures precious flickers of humanity through the character of Max, and at no point in the film does he appear more precocious than necessary. However, there is something a little off about Where The Wild Things Are. Whether it’s the fact that the Wild Things themselves are too rational to be as ‘wild’ as Max’s imagination, or the overwhelming sense of self-righteous hipness, the film feels incomplete, and it’s more than likely a result of the film’s hasty child-oriented revision.

THE FABULOUS WORLD OF JULES VERNE (CZECH REPUBLIC/1958/KAREL ZEMAN)

Taking its cue primarily from Jules Verne’s Face au Drapeau, but also borrowing from his other novels, this energetic fantasy story follows inventor Thomas Roch as he attempts to get approval for his new invention, an intensely violent explosive called the Fulgarator. Lacking governmental support, he is suddenly kidnapped by the dastardly Artigas who helps him create a working model of the weapon. Of course, Artigas has an ulterior motive as he plans to use it in his conquest of the world, and Roch is brought into a crisis of conscience when Artigas reveals where he plans to use it next.

Karel Zeman’s multi-disciplinary, multi-dimensional animation never fails to impress, and here it is absolutely enthralling, even in the absence of colour. Sets are streaked with thick black lines in mimesis of the woodcut illustrations in Verne’s original books. Though the animation of the machinery and the weapons are superb considering the time, the film is at its best during the underwater scenes – jellyfish and seahorses dance alongside the ship, deep sea divers duel for treasure, a basking shark circles the water predatorily. The story is one of Verne’s lesser works, and if you’re not with the film at the beginning, it’s likely you’ll never get into it, as many of the characters are somewhat interchangeable. Nonetheless, there’s entertainment for all ages to be had from this adventure, and few viewers will go wanting. If Méliès were still alive in the fifties, this might just have been his swan song.

THE ASTRONOMER'S DREAM (FRANCE/1898/GEORGES MÉLIÈS)

Sat alone in his study, an astronomer falls into a deep sleep. In his dreams, he is paid an unwanted visit by the devil who summons an evil demon in the form of a large full moon with a grotesque face. The demon consumes the astronomer and his life’s work, before spitting him back out in a cloud of smoke. As the face retreats into the night sky, a crescent moon nears the astronomer’s window, atop of which is sat an ethereally beautiful woman. She is Phoebe, the benevolent goddess of the moon. As she pieces the astronomer back together, he tries to reach out to her, but before he can make contact, he is shaken out of his dream.

The film was one of a few early films Méliès produced that showed his keen interest in all things astrological, a fascination he would eventually become celebrated for, culminating in the all-time classic A Trip to the Moon. It might seem like a throwaway curiosity to a generation of people for whom Avatar is the apex of cinema, but The Astronomer’s Dream is a sophisticated piece of work that deserves to be remembered 112 years later. Though composed of three disparate shots, the film flows seamlessly, and Méliès employs various cinematic tricks, including some subtle animation on a chalkboard, to create a wonderfully phantasmagorical nightmare. At the risk of sounding flippant, this writer would be much more content to watch 160 minutes of Méliès’ sci-fi shorts than sit through Avatar.