JesusCat (or How I Accidentally Joined a Cult)

A gentle, low-key indie comedy that ambles along pleasantly, asking little of you and leaving a soft, wry smile.

A bright, silly kids' romp with YouTube-style energy, mild villainy and no real scares.

A light, easygoing comedy that coasts on its lead's charm and broad situational humour without asking much of the viewer.

A curious, quietly playful oddity that turns a mundane kitchen ritual into something strange and lightly amusing.

A scrappy, good-natured comedy that coasts on local charm and the giddy chaos of amateur filmmaking, leaving you smiling without asking much of you.

A meandering, deadpan hangout comedy where poetic voiceover drifts over low-stakes mischief, feeling loose, odd and quietly reflective rather than laugh-out-loud.

A gentle, earnest faith-based story that plays like a warm Sunday-school lesson, easy to follow and aimed squarely at believers.

A quiet, deadpan drift through strange cities, where small absurdities quietly echo displacement and belonging.

We have not described how this one feels yet. Rate or save it, and we will.

A raunchy, silly comedy that's easy to watch and forget, with broad jokes about fame and internet culture.

A wry, low-key look at the scrappy chaos of trying to make art with too little money and too much hope.

A deliberately tasteless, euphemistic black comedy that provokes more than it entertains, testing patience with crude absurdity.