Kubrick’s 1950 still of a young woman, with her back to the camera, holding a lipstick with which she has written “I HATE LOVE” on a white fence.

If captured on the wing, would it be more of a “true” photograph than if, as turns out to be the case, it was wilfully posed by young Stanley?

In fact, it is the reduction of cinema to a single frame: an unmoving movie, which primes and frustrates the viewer’s wish to know more, and so leads us to read the girl’s despair into a moving narrative.

I forgot to add these yesterday but I don’t want to wait for next year so here’s a few hearts: