Lauren German, Roger Bart, Heather Matarazzo, Bijou Phillips.

Running time: 94 minutes.

. . .

CALL it torture porn, call it camp horror, Eli Roth's blood-spewing exploitation films try so hard to offend it's like getting worked up about a bothersome teenager. Part Two returns to Slovakia . . . much to the horror of its tourist board one imagines . . . where three American women are targeted by the same shady organisation we saw in the first film which kidnaps and sells tourists for torture. The buyers are two US businessmen who pay top dollar for a bit of human DIY with power tools.

Roth is not a talented director but he turns a darkly funny and authentic horror script. Real horror connects with our deepest fears: Roth sees the culture of backpacking as the modern rite of passage into adulthood and turns it into a dark fairytale for young adults . . . a modern twist on the bogeyman. In true fairytale fashion, it is set in a strange land with temptations and dangers; it requires the use of cunning to survive the ordeal; and implicit lessons are learned. It is far from being as stupid as it looks. Of course, you aren't going to read about a torturer having his private bits lopped off in Brothers Grimm, but that's splatter horror films for you.

Dans Paris (Christophe Honore):

Romain Duris, Louis Garrel, Guy Marchand, Joana Preiss, Alice Butaud.

Running time: 90 minutes.

. . .

Electric French actor Romain Duris stars in this curious drama about depression by director Christophe Honore, which earned a slot at the Cannes Director's Fortnight in 2006. Duris plays troubled photographer Paul whose relationship has disintegrated. His brother Jonathan (Louis Garrell) narrates the story to camera after Paul moves back to the family flat in the thick of depression.

Jonathan promises to meet up with him at Le Bon Marche but is sidetracked by three different women he seduces in succession on the way. Meanwhile, Paul looks ever more suicidal.

Honore seeks to make an honest treatment about depression and relationships but is afraid of losing his audience. So he concocts a playful, gimmicky tone, reminiscent of the French New Wave, to distract. There is an argument this highlights how difficult it is for people who don't suffer from depression to take the illness seriously. But as a form, it makes light of it, while underlining the cliche that French men are seducers extraordinaire. Garrel is fun to watch but Duris is a mesmerising force of self-loathing and helplessness.

The Flying Scotsman (Douglas MacKinnon):

Johnny Lee Miller, Billy Boyd, Laura Fraser, Brian Cox, Steven Berkoff.

Running time: 103 minutes.

. .

Scottish cyclist Graeme Obree came from nowhere in 1993 to break the world hour record on a homemade bike assembled from washing-machine parts. But off the track, Obree had to battle depression and a heavily bureaucratic cycling governing body which disliked his maverick status. Douglas MacKinnon directs this triumph over adversity tale and batters it in a chunky coating of Scottish miserabilism. Johnny Lee Miller's Obree is a hard-pedalling, natural talent. He cycles 30 miles a day into the city where he works as a courier. But his bottled-up childhood issues result in depression that leads to a suicide attempt. Breaking the world record does not salve his wounds.

(Incidentally, the film makes no mention of the real-life brother who died in 1994. ) Billy Boyd (Pippin from Lord of the Rings) plays his supportive manager. On my newlyformed scale for inspirational movies, the feel-good factor hits about six, but it takes a lot of uphill pedalling.

Sketches of Frank Gehry (Sydney Pollack):

Frank Gehry. Running time: 83 minutes.

. . .

This intimate documentary by Sydney Pollack aims to tease out the essence of Frank Gehry . . . an architectural icon who created, among others, the astonishing Guggenheim museum in Bilbao. If you know nothing about his work, no matter . . . Pollack knows little about architecture so asks the right questions. The loose, conversational format draws Gehry out: a maverick, free-associating thinker, he had to overcome his Jewishness, a bad marriage and chronic underconfidence. Amusingly, Pollack even persuades Gehry's longtime analyst to discuss how he helped open the artist's mental sluicegates.