Those bemoaning the somewhat overly-sanitary monopoly the folks at Walden currently hold on the world of child and tween oriented fantasy, take heart. Black Sheep director Jonathan King has arrived with his adaptation of popular New Zealand novel - adapted into a television series in 1982 - Under The Mountain and while his new effort is worlds away from his debut picture it definitely brings a fresh perspective to its chosen genre.

Brace yourselves for a firestorm, people, the globe's leading provocateur is back on form and slapping his latest film with a title sure to rile elements of the religious right is merely the first and least of Lars Von Trier's provocations in Antichrist. Sure to shock, offend and astound in equal portions while proving hugely divisive over the nature of its content Antichrist is arguably the most visually striking of his career, certainly the most transgressive, and ample proof that cinema is still more than capable of shocking. Why the boos and walk outs at some screenings here in Cannes? Here are two clues lifted from the film credits: Charlotte Gainsbourgh is at one point replaced by a body double named Mandy Starship while the film's production team also employed - and I quote - a "misogyny researcher".

Life's a bitch when your soul is owed to the devil. It's even more of a bitch when you're not even the guy who sold it off. But such is the sad state of affairs for Solomon Kane, the one-time bloodthirsty, amoral, treasure hunting sea captain prone to gunning down his own men for disobedience while spouting off inspirational lines about how he's the only devil his men have to fear when they quake in fright at the evil forces he keeps sending them against in the quest for more riches. But Solomon's a reformed man now, a man who has taken up residence in a monastery and pledged himself to a peaceful life in a desperate bid to atone for his past wrongs in the hope that God will take mercy upon him and restore his soul. It's a plan that may even have worked if not for the evil sorcerer ravaging the land, a potent force that only goes to prove that sometimes the forces of good need to have a little blood lust if they are to prevail. They need to be a little vicious. They need Solomon to pick up his sword.

Yes, boys and girls, Solomon Kane is the creation of Robert E Howard, best known as the creator of Conan The Barbarian. Yes, Kane is the subject of a new screen adventure helmed by Michael Bassett. And, yes, 80's style sword and sorcery adventure is back in a big way with Bassett's thoroughly entertaining screen adaptation.

Following hard on the heels of similarly themed Danish feature Flame and Citron - the chronicle of two famous Danish resistance fighters in WWII - Norwegian blockbuster Max Manus aims to shed light on a largely forgotten episode of the War effort, namely the struggle of local resistance fighters against the Nazi occupation of their home, revolving in this case around the efforts of famed saboteur Max Manus. Now, as sumptuously shot and impeccably crafted as was Flame and Citron it did tend to play a little obviously to the home crowd and rely on patriotism to carry the day over the actual film making, a situation that led it to feel a little dry to non-Danes - or at least to this particular non-Dane. This is not a problem whatsoever for Max Manus a film that plays every bit as well as a big budget spy thriller as it does a richly detailed trip through actual historical events. This is a film that has not forgotten to entertain as it teaches.

[Our thanks to Moko for the following review.]

An uninformed moviegoer may read the initial premise of Air Doll and think, "Wow, a Japanese movie about a sex doll that comes to life? That MUST be zany! There's absolutely no way that could be - I don't know - some sort of meditation on the human condition that whiplashes back and forth between charming comedy and mind-throttling scenes of urban despair! I mean, she can float!" And that, of course, is where they would be wrong - the sex doll in question doesn't actually float until pretty far into the film, and then only the once. Oh, and also, yes, it is a meditation on the human etcetera. If you're not ready to watch the juxtaposition of how much joy life can bring versus the quiet lives of desperation that people can fall into, please, for your own good, watch something else. And I say this in the course of actually recommending the film itself.

It was supposed to be a return to a simpler life for Johannes and Pernille, a move away from the big city and back to the small town for the high powered lawyer and his young family. It should be perfect: A home to shape and rebuild with their own hands, lots of space for the kids, a slower pace of life. Perfect. But life doesn't always work out as we plan and things move into a dark and violent place in this harrowing thriller from Ole Bornedal - a director who must now surely be ranked among the very best Europe has to offer.

[Our thanks to Katarina Gligorijevic for the following review of the latest from Gaspar Noe.]

Gaspar Noé won the Palme D'Or of my heart with this 160+ minute mind-bender. Enter the Void is more of an experimental, avant-garde journey through a DayGlo heart of darkness than it is a traditional narrative. After the punishing violence of both Seul Contre Tous and Irréversible, Noé switches gears completely and attempts to intimately capture the internal, hallucinatory experience of a young man's death.

The crimson mantle of light and shadows before sunrise, one last bittersweet goodbye to a day almost gone; their hands in the air, sparkles of youth from many moons past all together embracing that withering light before darkness once again comes. Dancing, screaming, laughing, burning with passion despite the aching vestiges of the past, as if no worry in the world could ever break those fleeting moments of jubilation, solace and a little bit of eerie madness. There is no illusion, no empty chimera for those who know the dark side of the moon. Just a few sweet, mad minutes, when the beast strips the mask, and like all creatures great and small dances around the feeble, unyielding fire of life. Because they're women, mothers, nature's most beautiful and puzzling invention. Saints and whores, monsters and goddesses; a life's companion, best friend and a lot more.

I'm generally not one to be taken aback by single scenes, particularly when it comes to storytellers as diabolically talented as Bong Joon-Ho. But, and I wouldn't worry about spoilers, one particular moment from a so-called "minor" work of his known as 마더 (Mother) might just be amongst the most beautiful and placidly terrifying moments in all of modern Korean cinema. It turns out that Bong waited no less than five years to shoot said scene, jotted as number two on the notebook he so lovingly conserved in between escapades along the Han River and curious, solitary trips to Tokyo. On the top of that page was just a name. Hers and no one else's. Kim Hye-Ja.

Though a touch prone to melodrama and inclined to overindulge its teen-angst metaphor, Sean Byrne's The Loved Ones is, nonetheless, one of the more striking examples of raw talent to emerge on the horror scene in a good long while. Byrne is a master of manipulating tension, a director with a very keen eye and a gift for pushing art direction right to the edge of Lynchian madness while still keeping things rooted in the real, recognizable world. And he has also given birth to one of the most potent serial killer duos to grace the screen ever.