J. A. Bayona directs Lewis MacDougall, Sigourney Weaver and Felicity Jones in this tale of a stoic boy whose grief, guilt and rage at his mother’s terminal illness manifests itself as a destructive, fable spouting tree monster.

Beautifully crafted and performed (the kid is excellent) – this sadly left me cold through no real fault of its own. For all its fine qualities, I struggled to see who it was for. Too close to the bone for bullied, orphaned or troubled children to entertain yet a bit self worthy to be cathartic for adults remembering when they went through similar traumas. Like Kubo or Silence, I’ll happily concede I can see how such intelligent labours of love from celluloid artisans could seduce everyone else, and that the fault must internally be with me.

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