It was perfect weather yesterday to spend an afternoon in the cinema as the grey skies which had threatened to wreak havoc since morning finally gave way to an almighty downpour which readily drenched the South Bank. Any cosy feeling I had momentarily felt clutching a warm coffee in the dry confines of NFT2 was instantly shattered once the screening of Michael Rowe's Año bisiesto [Leap Year] had gotten underway.

Approaching middle-age and living alone, Laura (Monica Del Carmen) yearns for a partner - evident from her wistful glances at the couple across the courtyard who are seemingly always cuddling or embracing. When Laura isn't staring at a calendar with the 29th of February ominously circled in red ink, she's conducting an endless stream of reckless one night stands which, as they increase in frequency, escalate from experimenting with tame fetishes to role-playing in graphic homicidal fantasies that culminate in her trying to persuade a particularly sadistic lover to enact a 'fantasy' where he will knife her to death and then 'ejaculate in [her] corpse'.

Whilst the film proudly exhibits moderately explicit sex scenes and delves into subject matter that traditionally belongs in Chris Tookey's nightmares, its impact is lessened in direct correlation to Rowe's attempts to keep upping the anti. As a result, character development and plausible motivation are sacrificed in aid of effect and shock value. Once Laura has agreed to yet another submissive sexual act where her lover urinates on her, it regrettably comes as little surprise when, in a separate scene, the same man, cigarette dangling from mouth in the foreground, turns to Laura and proceeds to burn her breasts with the scalding embers.

This is Michael Rowe's debut feature, a fact that is betrayed by the film's academic approach to its subject. However, there are impressive elements to the film. Initially, Laura is an interesting figure who is fiercely loyal to her family despite suggestions that there has been some form of parental abuse in the past. Nor is Laura a mere push over. In many of the scenes she is compliant with the most extreme acts though it is obvious this behaviour is helping to quell darker needs. Monica del Carmen puts in an admirable performance, managing to elicit sympathy without becoming pitiful. Del Carmen should also be commended for agreeing to partake in uncomfortable and demeaning situations, not to mention permitting the director and cameraman to capture her from uncomplimentary angles and in desperately unflattering natural light.

Leaving the auditorium I was struck by the close resemblances between Leap Year and last year' critically acclaimed Dogtooth; both are based around a contrived concept; feature unconventional sexual relationships; have a clinical aesthetic; are located in a confined setting (you only see Laura outside of her apartment once in the entire duration of Leap Year); and both threaten to reach a violent crescendo. However, whilst Dogtooth succeded in purposefully encouraging the viewer's continual detachment from its characters, Leap Year's reluctance to provoke more than a cheap gasp eventually isolates the audience and leaves little room to cae about its protagonist who gets lost amidst the choking, pissing and killing. Unlike Laura the audience weren't begging for more - they were calling out for a safe word.

Press Screenings Begin

In the approach to the 54^th London Film Festival the traditional round of press screenings have begun and already there have been promising signs that this year’s festival will be just as exciting as the last.

Whilst I’ve only been able to attend two screenings so far - In Our Name & Les mains en l'air [Hands Up] - they have both been fine pieces even if the former was perhaps better suited to television given its subject and scale. However, it is possible my expectations have been severely lowered after being subjected to the latest Julia Roberts vehicle, Eat Pray Love which easily rivals The Last Airbender for the title of Most Reprehensible Film of 2010.

So, my festival began with Brian Welsh's In Our Name, a British drama concerning a wife and mother recently returned from Iraq who, confronted with civilian life, begins to suffer from post traumatic stress disorder. This slow descent into crippling mania leads to being coerced into a horrifically violent act, her increasingly erratic behaviour putting her and her family's life at risk.

Despite the pertinence of its subject matter and some fine performances, In Our Name feels like it belongs on television where it would undoubtedly get the audience it deserves. It highlights the severe negligence of British soldiers returning from hellish conflicts and brushes on the racism the War On Terrorism has generated in English towns. Before the film’s end credits roll a dedication reads: “To the thousands of servicemen and women incarcerated after attempting to return to civilian life”. It’s a message that demands to be heard beyond the limited release that the film would otherwise inevitably be granted and should serve as a  bracing wake up call to complacent politicians who are happy to send men and women into war but are less concerned with their well-being when they return.

Les mains en l’air [Hands Up] is a charming film about 10 year old Milana, a Chechnyan immigrant illegally living in France who, when threatened with deportation, hatches a plan to run away with her gang of friends, inadvertently sparking a national debate across France regarding the wisdom of President Sarkozy and his administration's immigration policy.

Apart from brilliantly capturing the essence and frivolity of childhood, Hands Up is also a moving piece about companionship, early romantic love and the often painful effects of memory. Most impressively, it manages to tackle the political and humanitarian quagmire of immgration whilst wearing its Left leaning principles on its sleeve without becoming a partisan propoganda piece. Directed by Romain Goupil - a one-time assistant director to Jean-Luc Godard and Chantal Akerman - his background as both a filmmaker and a political activist balance nicely to produce an enchanting narrative and a powerful message that in the wake of the removal of "the jungle" could not have arrived at a better time.