Some intelligent, clear-eyed observations on modern war, military hubris and US intentions are stifled by tonal clumsiness -- it flounders as satire, and its first half commitment to it blunts the stronger, more straight-faced second half -- meandering pace and a distractingly miscast, almost cartoonish Pitt. (Seriously, did Clooney say no?)

Continuing Polanski's increasingly playful "bottle movie" period, this wickedly witty gender war of words raises important questions, refuses easy answers and blissfully revels in mischief. A pointedly cast Seigner (Polanski's wife) and Amalric (Polanski's double?) go all-in, to mesmerising effect.

Initially interesting but increasingly meandering doc-xperiment feels ickier and less ethical as it wears on. What's more, its attack on assumed audience bloodlust is aimed in a way as to fundamentally misunderstand art's role in helping us make some semblance of sense of the senseless.

Strikingly shot, strongly acted, but endless, near-comically absurd survival/revenge drama feels puffed up on its own faux-significance.