Hottest ticket of the LFF this one – and rightly so, this is another assured film from Steve McQueen which cements him as one of the most original directors out there. His not so secret weapon of course is Michael Fassbender who is perfectly cast as Brandon, a man whose penis drives him – from the embarrassing discovery of his download collection on the office pc to the random pick ups he manages quite easily thanks to that ten zillion watt shark like stare he’s perfected. Pants off at 30 paces, basically.

We never find out exactly what’s behind the addiction but we do get a fair idea once Brandon’s sister arrives – Carey Mulligan isn’t my favourite actress, but she’s great here and her central performance of New York New York is genuinely moving. The secrets in their past aren’t revealed, but they are there, and they are dark. These are siblings that are tied together with damage.

McQueen’s direction is immaculate, New York has never looked so beautifully dangerous, and I could have watched Fassbender running through the streets at night for hours. Should have won the LFF’s best film by a mile. Probably not one to watch with the family at Christmas though.

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