Were Brad Pitt of World War Z to meet Brad Pitt of A Tree of Life, you could have Maggie. Almost. For, while Terence Malik hangs heavy over this film, Hobson — who was a part of Malik’s A Tree of Life — jettisons the symbolism long enough to give us a warm, working family strained by a zombie scare.

This ridiculously glorious rebooting of the Mad Max films of late ’70s and early ’80s by the director is a celebration of a world gone feral, and women gone sublime. And that’s not all women do here, even when dressed in wisps of delicate white. They command troops, drive war rigs, ride motorcycles and wage wars, apart from being “breeders” for a dictator ruling his kingdom by depriving his people of water.

A delightful and witty comedy, it warmly embraces the likes of us while gently treating those others, ribbing both and mocking none.

The film sticks to the format of the novel in telling Cheryl’s story in flashbacks that go back and forth and sometimes are even just visual images.

Long after Mr Turner has ended, you realise you can’t claim to understand the man known as the “painter of light” any better. But then, the point may be just that.

There were 159 million million million possibilities each code generated by Enigma entailed. In the normal course, it would take 20 million years to decipher. Turing’s team and his machine did that in two years, giving us what would become the modern computer, cutting the war short by an estimated two years, and saving approximately 14 million lives. But that’s not what this film is about, making it better than other films on the Enigma. It is about the one life it couldn’t.

The film, based on a book co-written by Kyle himself, will make you flinch at both the relentless fighting and the unilateral view the Americans in its midst have of it.

While it goes on to tick all the events in Hawking’s life after this, we see neither the trauma of a man talking about the beginning, the end, and then the timelessness of time when counting days himself, or the bitterness of him fathoming the expanse of the cosmos trapped in a body restricted to a wheelchair. His deductions, derived after long, lonely and presumably agonising hours of work, are reduced to warm flashes of brilliance.

Burton picturises this domestic drama in bright colours, as well as in dark studios, with their mounting claustrophobia. He also tries to portray this as a feminist drama, with Margaret essentially fighting a system where women don’t count for much. But his heart is really not in it.

As a lesser known chapter of World War II, Unbroken is a welcome addition. However, as a particularly special chapter of it, Unbroken required us to care for Zamperini more than we may end up doing.