"Si-nik-do-kee", synecdoche, a metaphor where the whole stands in place for the part, or vice versa. A nerdy, writerly title, to be sure, perfect for this multifaceted, ridiculous and surreal film from the unique mind of Charlie Kaufman.

Finally given his own film to tackle (after his celebrated scripts like Adaptation and Being John Malkovich, this film is in fact too weird to have been directed by anyone else. A summary of the impossible to summarize plot: a theatrical director wins the "genius prize" McArthur grant, he then chooses to break free of normal theatrical conventions, creating a life-sized version of New York inside a hanger. Within this set is another set, and so on, with each story circling around itself, hangers inside hangers, different actors hired to play the actors in each inner story.

This is the type of film that many, many will hate, but it's told with a great deal of lightness and whimsy, never coming across as pedantic or needlessly arty. It's a dry comedy, to be sure, but its silliness and intelligence are infectious, and the performances by Hoffman and (personal fav) Emily Watson are sparkingly great.

As The Wrestler, Mickey Rourke puts in his finest performance in his long and (at times) illustrious career. What's perhaps more remarkable is that Aronofsky has crafted what it at its heart a feel good film, one owing much to the original Rocky (not, naturally, the repulsive sequels) as we follow the descent of a fighter far past his prime.

Randy "the Ram" Robinson is trolling the bottom heap of the wrestling circuit, peddling videos from his prime, and struggling just to keep his supply of steroids flowing. He's got the hots for a local pole dancer, and has an estranged relationship with his daughter. As he fights for his big comeback, he is siderailed when he discovers he's suffering from terminal health issues - if he fights again, it may well be his last.

It should be trite and derivative, but it all works so damn well, from the 80s pop-metal soundtrack to the sad sack, puffy performance by Rourke. There are great moments of humour mixed with the pathos, and the brutality of the fights is tempered by the tender awkwardness of his courtship of the stripper.

A wrestling film that never feels inauthentic, it's a strong contender for film of the fest, and a tremendous achievement by director and actor alike.

Liam Neeson flies to a foreign land to track down the lover of his wife, Antonio Banderas. The two meet over a chess board, and the film attempts to create tension through this back-and-forth competition between the two. This is a trite and boring love story, attempting complexity but instead coming off as ridiculous. The so-called "twists" are telegraphed minutes into the film's running time, and cardboard performances by the leads do little to endear the audience.

A terrible, rambling, derivative cop show, with two brothers forced to confront corruption in the police force. With their police chief/daddy Jon Voight in charge of the force, we're left with enough procedural drivel to make it boring, yet the most ridiculous, over-the-top police procedural that's downright embarrassing in light of The Wire. Frankly, you simply can't make a cop movie this bad anymore and get away with it, we're past this trope, and yet another punchup by Irish cops just becomes downright boring mighty fast.