The past year has been an important one for the stressful film. Those such as Bugonia, Marty Supreme, Die My Love and, most recently, The Drama have embraced the cinema as something of a torture chamber; you enter with a smile and exit with your teeth pulverised from the anxiety-induced clench your jaw has been locked in since the inciting event. Those favouring a peaceful viewing experience should not put themselves through the three films above. This is not a criticism of any of these films, all of which I enjoyed on a scale from mildly to thoroughly. Although I can also enjoy one with a slower pace – less self-indulgent with the dramatic, less shouty – I have always found my post-cinema reverie more intense after a stress-film.

“‘Good’ films are often judged on their ability to remove you from yourself”

On paper and away from the theatrics of my description, though, these films are not that intense. Marty Supreme, Die My Love and The Drama, in particular, feature events which are by no means insignificant, but less than world-ending. The stakes of an action film, or a superhero film, are often much higher, yet these films do not lock our jaws the same way a well-timed, stressful drama does. These dramas are only stressful to watch because of the quick editing, the scoring and the performances which imply every character is permanently a second away from beating their fists down to stubs using the nearest flat surface. In this way, the filmmakers ensure that the empathetic bond between audience member and character is strong enough to make the former feel stressed out when something goes wrong in the protagonist’s life, despite the fact that this event often carries with it no implications for the world as a whole.

Alongside the fast stress-films, though, are the slow ones – often horrors or thrillers – which use agonisingly slow editing and periods of quiet to create eeriness, rather than the cacophony of interrupted shouts that make up The Drama and Marty Supreme. Bugonia and Die My Love use somewhat of a mix of these two paces.

“I do not think that the experience of a film is necessarily more valuable if it makes you feel a bit terrible”

These films often attract praise from more pretentious filmgoers due to their place in opposition to the ‘feel good’ film, a genre which is often scoffed at, or whose worth is downplayed by its appreciators placing it carelessly in the ‘guilty pleasure’ box, only to be opened when drunk or with children. ‘Good’ films are often judged on their ability to remove you from yourself and involve you completely within the emotions of the fabricated world you are being shown. Stress is an emotion which can easily be used to this effect; it tends to overwhelm.

Films which induce feelings of peace and happiness are less immersive, making for an experience less suited exclusively to the cinema, and therefore looked down upon by those who think the cinema is the only place where you can valuably watch a film.

I am a thorough supporter of the stress-film and hope to see more of them gracing the folds of my Picturehouse programmes. The moment of exiting a cinema after two hours of total submersion is unparalleled, and this submersion tends to be more all-consuming when thrown into an unforgiving ocean of anxiety rather than an airy summer pond of peace and laughter. However, I do not think that the experience of a film is necessarily more valuable if it makes you feel a bit terrible, and I encourage readers, ironically, to treat ‘light entertainment’ – as patronising a term as it is – more seriously.