Firefighters battle a raging blaze that threatens a vast landscape.

It is 1934, and France is in the grip of the Depression. Against the backdrop of a hard-hit mine, director Eric tells a story of workers and bosses, friends and enemies, and father and son.

Heartbreaking and hilarious, Average Bear sheds light on Michelle's experience living in the shadows of hereditary illness, whilst simultaneously weaving in the fictional story of Average Bear.

All of Europe was affected by the Great Depression of the 1930s, but some parts were hurt less badly than others. France, for instance, was relatively prosperous. In this grim drama, a sturdy Polish boxer and his family have settled into a mining town in northern France because that's where the work is. Like European "guest workers" in the 1990s, the Polish immigrants then were frequently treated badly by the locals. In this drama, the romantic aspirations of the boxer's son are thwarted by the concerted efforts of the local men and his own family's preference that he marry another Polish girl. After his romance fails, the son becomes a union activist and sacrifices a great deal to try to gain higher wages for the miners, but the contract he works out is reneged on by the duplicitous owners.

For his third film in France, L'Enfant du Carnaval (1921), Mozhukhin directed himself. This is a delightful work, hinting at the astonishing visual vocabulary Mozhukhin would employ in his next directorial effort, Le brasier ardent (1923). Full of visual witticisms that include amusing match cuts and a terrific use of scenography, it can be argued that the choice of subject matter (wealthy bachelor finds a child on his doorstep and hires the child's real mother as nanny) has more than an old-fashioned air about it, but he manages to keep it fresh and sparkling until the tragic conclusion. There are some stylistic similarities between L'Enfant du Carnaval and an Italian film from 1917 which screened at last year's Festival, Luigi Serventi's Le Mogli e le arance (Wives and Oranges), written and supervised by Lucio D'Ambra, although this may be pure coincidence. La Maison du mystère was followed by Mozhukhin's second and final solo directorial effort, the extraordinary Le brasier ardent (1923). Though Renoir cites this as the film which convinced him to become a director, few people understood Mozhukhin's tour de force blend of surrealism, Freud and dada, and Le brasier ardent was a commercial flop. It is directed with breathtaking boldness and a mastery of cinematic styles ranging in influence from Gance and Feuillade to the avant-garde. Le brasier ardent opens with a nightmare sequence that jumps out at the audience, beginning in hell and working itself up to a cathedral, all with Mozhukhin in different parts, from a demonic heretic at the stake to a bishop. The visionary Alexander Lochakoff designed, with Joseph-Louis Mundwiller (who later shot part of Gance's Napoléon [1927]) as cameraman. Mozhukhin's incandescent personality, shining out of those riveting eyes, acts as a match to his bravura directing, which includes astounding edits and the use of negative images. The audience is left dazzled by the audacity of his style, and mournful that a great career as director was cut short by an unappreciative public. Finally, Casanova (Volkoff, 1927). I can think of no film where Venice is so gloriously shot, where the Carnival festivities of the late 18th century are so perfectly recreated, straight out of the paintings of Pietro Longhi. Full of comedy, and with Mozhukhin bounding through his scenes in the style of Douglas Fairbanks, Ivan Mozhukhin in Casanova Ivan Mozhukhin in Casanova this is a gorgeous work, and though it lacks the technical bravura of, say, Le brasier ardent, it is a pleasure from beginning to end. The extraordinary restorations by Renée Lichtig (co-winner this year of the Jean Mitry Award) of both this and Michel Strogoff include their original hand-coloured sequences. The night scenes during Carnival, with fireworks exploding over the torch-lit gondolas, are scenes of wonder.

A pictureless film in 3D sound full of political, poetic and incendiary echoes around the death and words of Percy Bysshe Shelley, an infamous young poet driven out of his country after kidnapping his future young wife, Mary Shelley, and who was found dead in 1822, at the age of 29, on the shore of Viareggio in Italy. This sound movie uses text, music and sophisticated sound design projected via 27 speakers to conjure powerful images in the listener's mind.