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'Scooter LaForge: A Life in Art' is a beautifully realised love letter to creativity, art and individuality. It's rare to see a documentary put together with quite this much flare and care; taking us into the world of Scooter's art with a beautiful and confident visual style. The piece uses everything from onscreen animation to rotoscoping to stop-motion turnarounds of physical art pieces, yet this visual delirium never feels forced or 'too much', because it's entirely in keeping with the subject matter and atmosphere. The use of music keeps everything driving forward at a rapid rate of knots.

The documentary doesn't sugar-coat the more challenging aspects of Scooter LaForge's work or life, instead dealing with these sides of the story with empathy and a considered approach. This is a film very much aware of that tipping point where the desire to create art becomes the *necessity* to create art. The integration of comedy and cartoonish imagery into work that, at its heart, has some deeply serious concerns bubbling under the surface is a fascinating side of what we see on display here.

Ethan Minsker's confident direction stops the portrait feeling too self-congratulatory despite the visual bells and whistles. This is confident, emotional and, at times, almost visually overwhelming filmmaking. If you feel the heartbeat of creativity beating inside your own chest, this one is a must-see.

Ordinary Things is a perfectly effective and charming romcom with appealing performances and some good, solid laughs. The faith aspect is handled in such a way that unbelievers like myself won't feel too alienated, and the dynamics of the plot keep moving briskly along and ensure that the audience is never less than entertained.

Sweet and well-judged central performances keep everything on track even when the mechanics of the plot require some serious suspension of disbelief, and you'd have to be a particularly sour kind of viewer to take against the movie. It might be worth giving the trailer a skip and going in cold; knowing the details of the premise ahead of time might take some of the sparkle off the first act.

It's a warm cup of cocoa in movie form.

Move Me No Mountain is absolutely gorgeously shot. The use of the sky in framing shots (with objects and people contrasted against, reflected into or mirrored by the great wide blue) lends a sense of possibility, consistency and purpose to a story that is, by its very nature, somewhat fragmented.

At the core of the movie is Cat Lellie's ego-free and often quite extraordinary performance, taking us through levels of grief and self-reflection as we join her on her travels.

This is serious and thoughtful filmmaking, always aware of the complexities bubbling beneath the surface of every person that we encounter. It's a remarkable film that's likely to stay with the viewer long after the credits have rolled.