No flash

Nope. I'm eschewing shallowness and flashiness and the kind of overplayed technical excellence that Mr Pensioner cynically employs to stake his claim to the crown. I'm all about gravitas and understated elegance.

Not for me the Hollywood schmaltz that tugs at the heartstrings with the knowing, manipulative shot of the brave heroine sacrificing her own love and happiness so that her doe-eyed daughter can receive the the treatment that will save her from an unspecified debilitating but photogenic disease whilst a single violin plays that sad, single note that connects directly to the tear ducts and which is joined by the swelling, soaring, uplifting main theme which speaks directly to the soul saying "you have never been so alive, so in touch with your emotions... You can fly. You can do great things. You have never tasted anything as good as that popcorn which is salted with your own tears."

No. I'm an Eastern European art-house movie about a shoe factory which lasts four hours and speaks to the essence of what it is to be human.