Selena Gomez in Emelia Pérez [Shanna Besson-Pathé]

AS a scriptwriter, my relentless appetite for films faces its ultimate challenge each year at the London Film Festival.

The drive to watch as many films as possible becomes almost obsessive – much like the excitement experienced as a kid growing up in the 1980s, awaiting the Christmas movie bonanza across four broadcasters. Back then, the release of the Radio Times Christmas special was a highlight on the calendar, and with a Stabilo Boss highlighter in hand and VHS multi-packs at the ready, I ensured no movie was missed.

The joy of planning out the LFF festival guide feels reminiscent of that, and the anxiety of navigating the sluggish ticketing system against a 40-minute countdown mirrors the tense moments of pressing “record” on the VHS player, hoping no mistakes were made in the programming.

I managed to grab a few cheap front-row seats for the main events and galas, setting aside my socialist values, which might view the allocation of “price-promise seats” – essentially “restricted view” tickets that compromise your neck alignment for two weeks – as a microcosm of the industry’s ongoing issues and its tokenistic efforts to promote diversity and inclusivity.

Instead, I focus on the excitement of being so close to the directors, actors, writers, producers, and composers I admire as they passionately introduce the work that has captivated their lives for months or even years.

This experience serves as encouragement for those of us in the industry who have not yet been involved in a feature film, reminding us that collaboration can produce timeless works. A platform for films that would normally not receive a theatrical release, providing a red-carpet night that celebrates the best of independent cinema.

This event showcases new talent – often an important lifeline to heighten exposure for the emerging producers and directors who frequently go under or unpaid for their efforts and discov­eries that benefit the upper echelons of the industry.

I would like to believe that platforms such as LFF provide a place that fully realises the value of emerging talent. After all, major festivals possess the power and potential to play a major part in protecting and adding value to the vulnerable talent that make it such an exciting event.

A scene from Sean Baker’s Anora

Putting my grievances with the state of the industry aside, my week began on the second day of the festival with back-to-back galas featuring some of my favourite living directors.

First up was Parisian director Jacques Audiard, known for A Prophet and Rust and Bone. His latest film, Emelia Pérez, is his most experimental work yet – a genre-defying, operatic musical crime thriller and Best Actress Cannes-winning epic for its entire female-led cast.

Zoe Saldana plays Rita, a weary lawyer who, after accepting an invitation from Manitas, a pre-op transgender narco kingpin (played by Spanish actress Karla Sofía), must secure the best gender reassign­ment surgeon, fake the kingpin’s death, and ensure safe passage and new identities for Karla (Manitas’s new female name), wife Jessi (Selena Gomez), and their children.

While Rita and Karla pursue fresh starts, Jessi yearns for her old life in Mexico, one that includes a secret lover, played charismatically by the great Edgar Ramirez. When Karla realises her transformation is incomplete without her children, she asks Rita to help reunite her with her wife and kids by posing as an estranged aunt willing to assist the family. Yes, you guessed it, this does not go smoothly.

Audiard’s talent and passion for exploring romance and power dynamics in unexpected places has so far explored relationships between an Algerian immigrant and a Marseille mafia boss, both serving time in prison, a street boxer and an amputee whale trainer, and a love triangle between Sri Lankan immigrants posing as a couple and the drug lord who controls the housing project they manage.

When introducing Emelia Pérez, Audiard remarked: “If a film’s success can be measured by how enjoyable it was to make, I feel this is a very well-made film.”

While this was intended as a humble tribute to his remarkable cast, it does not diminish his status as a modern master who skillfully weaves romance into gritty, intense settings.

It was fitting, then, that his American counterpart, Sean Baker, followed with his own gala screening.

Like Audiard, Baker is an auteur known for Tangerine, The Florida Project, Red Rocket, and the writer, director, and editor of his latest Palme D’or winning rom-com, Anora.

Year-on-year, Sean Baker continues to solidify his status as a filmmaker who delivers character studies that examine the short-changed members of American society. His darkly comedic stories seamlessly blend heartfelt drama from beginning to end. Anora is no exception; this modern Cinderella story is a raucous rom-com that thoughtfully humanises those living on society’s fringes, championing sex workers who exist in the shadows of America’s workforce, highlighting their struggles with an urban gritty realism they deserve.

Mikey Madison plays Anora, taking her first leading role and positioning herself as a strong contender to be nominated for every eligible award going. Her performance as dancer and escort who impulsively agrees to marry an oligarch’s son is equal parts witty and vulnerable. With this impressive debut, Madison has heralded herself as the new lead actor to watch. If she doesn’t lift a big award this year, it’s just a matter of time before she does.

Baker’s survival story unfolds like a screwball rollercoaster, skillfully blending comedy and drama. True to his style, he delivers a dose of drama just when it’s needed to break the controlled chaos.

While Madison takes the lead, Yura Borisov’s character, Igor – a member of the hired muscle assigned to annul Madison’s wedding to her husband Ivan, played by the Chaplinesque actor Mark Eidelshtein – offers unexpected kindness that nearly overshadows Madison’s beautifully vulnerable performance.

• Emilia Pérez. Directed by Jacques Audiard. Certificate 15. 4 stars
• Anora. Directed by Sean Baker. Certificate 18. 5 stars