Utterly charming and bucolic, a meandering story of a summer idyll unexpectedly builds up into something deeply moving and memorable.

Summer 1983, somewhere near Crema, Lombardy. A landscape of sleepy village squares baking in the afternoon sun, of lazy rivers to bathe in, grass to roll in, of gardens with trees bearing luscious fruit.

What’s James Bond doing here as a blond-white beefcake, and redneck to boot? It takes a gulp and a little intake of breath to calm that sense of dissonance. And so the fun starts. Nothing in this film is at it seems.

That moment in Ocean’s Twelve when Matt Damon is picked up from a jail by an FBI agent and you realise the ‘FBI agent’ is his mom? Logan Lucky is a succession of those neat surprises. Eventually. Logan Lucky is a slow burner, and Soderbergh directs magisterially – setting up the story at his own pace. It starts as a bit of a shaggy dog story then speeds up towards the end, picking up multiple strands into a rather satisfying conclusion. It all pays off.

A treasure trove of archive footage, all about the ‘Star Wars’ President, Ronald Reagan? An opportunity too good to miss.

Filmmakers Sierra Pettengill and Pacho Velez have explored thousands of hours of material from White House TV, filmed during his tenure by the President’s own teams; retrieved news footage, and a few clips from Reagan’s old Hollywood movies. From this, they have assembled a 75-minute compilation of some of the President’s big and less big moments, and set it to music, a score by Laura Karpman as well passages from Schubert’s Death and the Maiden. There is no commentary, only intertitle cards charting key moments.

A winding little river somewhere in the forest near Tachileik, in the Golden Triangle, along the border between Myanmar and Thailand. A young woman, Lianqing (Wu Ke-Xi), is being smuggled across. She is on her way to Bangkok, to earn a better living and send money back home. She regularly has to pay bribes, as she progresses on her journey.

It’s all in the eyes. When Queen Victoria meets Mohammed Abdul Karim in June 1887, he quickly makes a strong impression. The Queen writes about him in her diary, that same day, mentioning that he is tall, with ‘fine serious countenance’, and is lighter skinned than his compatriot and fellow servant, Mohammed Buksh. It’s a droll story, as the film tells it; the pomp and formality of Court is displayed with quite some irony.