3 hours of the most hedonistic, widescreen, enjoyable, meaningless, beautiful, entertaining nonsense you'll see in a while. It may be on the long side, but the joy in seeing the absent confusion in Kurt Russell's eyes is enough on its own. Don't think too much about it - I'm not sure it has as much to say about contemporary America as some others do - just switch off and drink it up.

The first act of Joy appears to set it up as a bizarre, Lynchian black comedy, but ultimately this is a disappointingly conventional drama.

Jennifer Lawrence is still very good, and you sort of do care about whether she sells her new mop on QVC. But it lacks the heady abandon of American Hustle, or the endearing kookiness of Silver Linings Playbook.

A visual, tonal, cultural detour from the usual contents of Western cinemas, and as such requires a different level of commitment.

The various plot strands are a challenge to follow coherently, and the pacing leaves you frustrated by your innate restless desire for progression. Hou will not be rushed.

It is ravishing, and the infrequent outbursts of violence are genuinely beautiful. But more than anything else, it is meditative - and resistance to that is futile.

A great example of how to tell a story. It doesn't talk down to you, or rely on melodramatic set pieces. Instead, you follow the brilliant ensemble cast as these believable characters use their journalistic principles to swim upstream and bring layer upon layer of a morally ambivalent society to account.

It's not a visual spectacle, but even that feels appropriate for a story of the day-to-day life of an investigative journalist. If only there were still more movies like this being made.