Trance
James McAvoy, Rosario Dawson, Vincent Cassel - Dir: Danny Boyle

After taking time out to create the opening ceremony for the London Olympics, Danny Boyle returns to film with a tricksy heist thriller where working out what is going on at any point is half the fun.
It's as if someone has fused Inception with The Thomas Crown Affair when an art robbery, with McAvoy as the inside man, goes slightly pear-shaped and the stolen painting goes missing. To complicate matters, McAvoy receives a blow to the head and can't remember where it went. Criminal mastermind Cassel is less than chuffed by this but threats and torture don't help so he calls in Dawson's hypnotherapist to try and recover the missing memories.
That's the basic set-up but is only the ground floor of a complex construction wherein nothing – naturally – is as it appears. It dos require a little patience, but the best approach is just to wallow in the slick visuals and plot twists and not to worry that much of it doesn't make sense at the time: the web of double and triple crosses does untangle by the ending.
Another reason to see it? At the risk of unforgivable sexism I must mention that Rosario Dawson is a goddess. And, briefly here, a fully frontally nude goddess. It's one of the most erotic images I've ever seen on film.

The shadow of Goodfellas looms large over The Iceman. Like that film it is a true-life story of low-level Mafioso, specifically mob killer Richard Kuklinski, responsible for over 100 hits. That he is first taken on in the 1960s by Ray Liotta only adds to the resonance. But this is far from the enticingly frenetic Goodfellas – these are not even superficially people you would ever want to meet. It's a cold film, with Michael Shannon's brooding central performance leaving the character an enigma, a sociopathic moral black hole who (apparently) loved his wife and kids and refused to kill women and children.

The Emperor is a big serious and extremely handsome film about the aftermath of Japan's World War 2 surrender. Central to events are General MacArthur (Tommy Lee Jones) and, primarily, cultural expert General Fellers (Matthew Fox), trying to decide how to deal with the captive Emperor Hirohito as the country endures post-bombing turmoil and Stalin's red army hovers in the shadows. Running parallel is Feller's search for his pre-war Japanese lover. Despite initial reservations (dry subject matter) this completely won me over with its blend of complex political intrigue and detective story, and its fascinating glimpse into the intricacies of a mysterious culture.

And there are some great television series with Kiwi connections recently out on DVD for those who missed them amongst the inanities of our TV scheduling. Jane Campion's miniseries Top of the Lake stars Mad Men's Elizabeth Moss (looking uncannily like a young Jodie Foster) and investigates shady goings on around the Queenstown area. Peter Mullan and David Wenham help out in a spiralling mystery kicked off by the disappearance of a pregnant 12-year-old.

And there's Harry, New Zealand's toughest cop drama yet – definitely influenced by the Scandinavian likes of The Killing - wherein Oscar Kightley faces off against Auckland p-dealers and Sam Neil's spectacular retro moustache. It's very good.

Thale opens with jaunty Scandinavian fiddle music accompanying a man in overalls vomiting furiously while attempting to clean up a police crime scene. Yep, we're in Norway again, where black humour still reigns. Witness Troll Hunter, Rare Exports, or anything from Jo Nesbo. Soon afterwards he, Elvis, and his fellow cleaner discover a woman in the backwoods cellar. She's mute, naked and... a bit different. Is she even human? Slow reveals follow in a nicely-made indie that is generally fresh and occasionally even lyrical. It translates well despite clearly drawing on specific Norwegian folklore.