One hundred and ninetieth film: The Golden Coach, an Italian/English film about how hard it is to find love when you’re the lead actress in a travelling theatre troupe and everybody thinks you’re amazing. After leading three men on in what looks suspiciously like a lust for gold disguised as genuine ennui, the intensely melodramatic Camilla ends up with nobody. She’s alone on a stage, with only the misconception that stories about melodramatic theatre actresses are interesting to keep her company. This movie is clever in the way it presents itself as an actual stage play, and the costumes can swish their gorgeous way across my corneas forever, but I’m no more enamoured with people complaining that too many men are in love with them now than I was when one of my old housemates said the same thing instead of emptying the dishwasher. I’m shrugging. One and a half theatrical arse-tridents out of five.