Words matter. That’s one of the key messages of “Darkest Hour,” in which Gary Oldman embodies — fiercely and memorably — the legendary Winston Churchill, who rallied his country with soaring oratory when Britain’s very survival was at stake.

But the same man who uttered indelible phrases like “I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat” — and many others — was also a human being, the film argues, with fears and doubts and insecurities and flaws. “Just be yourself,” Churchill’s wife, Clementine (a briskly effective Kristin Scott Thomas) advises him as he heads off, full of jitters, to meet the king and become the wartime prime minister. Later, he raises a glass with Clementine, with a fervent wish: “Here’s to not buggering it up.”

“Buggering it up” was certainly a risk — both for Churchill, and for Oldman or any actor attempting to embody the great man. It’s hard enough to portray a revered real-life figure — and harder yet with such a larger-than-life persona, physically and otherwise. It won’t be a surprise to fans of the skilled Oldman that he avoids mimicry or caricature, and it’s an even better treat that he’s able to so adeptly balance conviction with doubt, courage with fear, and gravity with humor. (Kudos are due as well to the superb makeup by Kazuhiro Tsuji, jowls and all.)

“Darkest Hour,” directed by Joe Wright and written by Anthony McCarten, focuses on one month in 1940 that saw Churchill rise to office and face down his political foes and a wary British monarch as he navigated the threat of looming war against Adolf Hitler’s forces. Though Wright is known for his sweeping filmmaking in another war film, “Atonement,” here he focuses not on the beaches of Dunkirk but on dimly lit interiors like the underground war rooms at Westminster Palace, the halls of Parliament, and Churchill’s own bedroom.

The film is, in a sense, a companion piece — by way of timing, at least — to Christopher Nolan’s “Dunkirk,” released in the summer. While Nolan focused on the action, Wright focuses on the talk — specifically how Churchill, in the words of one frustrated opponent, “mobilized the English language and sent it into battle.”

He wasn’t the first choice to be prime minister — not of his party, and certainly not of a skeptical King George VI (an excellent Ben Mendelsohn). But Parliament, as we learn at the beginning of the film, had lost confidence in the ailing Neville Chamberlain, and Churchill was a compromise solution.

He enters office as France and Belgium are on the brink of falling to the Nazis, and most of the British Army is stranded at Dunkirk. The new prime minister is forced to make an agonizing decision: try to negotiate a dubious peace, as Chamberlain desired, or fight — and risk the deaths of a generation of young British men. He’s hated by Chamberlain and his sidekick, Lord Halifax, and doubted by the king, who (initially) finds him scary and unpredictable.

It’s fun to watch the lunch meeting between the restrained king and Churchill, a man of great appetites — and a famous thirst. When the king asks how he can drink during the day, the prime minister replies: “Practice.”

There are many such moments of humor, including when Churchill first meets his new young secretary, Elizabeth Layton (Lily James), and inadvertently flashes his privates under his nightshirt. Or when he warns her as he exits the shower: “I’m coming out in a state of nature!” He’s also shown on the toilet, shouting out that he cannot speak to the Lord Privy Seal because he is “sealed on The Privy.”

Despite such comic moments, which Oldman attacks with gusto, the film’s mood is urgent and dire. The United States cannot help because of neutrality agreements; in a dispiriting phone call with Franklin D. Roosevelt, the U.S. president notes: “It must be late there.” Churchill replies: “In more ways than you can possibly know.”

Ultimately — as we all know — Churchill decides to fight on, and to declare “We will never surrender.” What gets him there? Partly, a ride on the London Underground. The prime minister decides to ditch his aides and take the Tube to Westminster, and on the way, to chat with some commonfolk. To a person, they agree with him that the country must never surrender to the forces of evil.

There are two problems with this scene. First, it’s rather corny. The second is that it never happened. The filmmakers do warn that some material has been fictionalized. But some may be disappointed to learn that one of the most pivotal scenes in the film was manufactured.

Oldman’s performance, though, which has launched him to the forefront of awards season chatter, triumphs over any such qualms. The last few years have seen a number of notable Churchill interpretations. Oldman has set the bar higher still.

“Darkest Hour,” a Focus Features release, is rated PG-13 by the Motion Picture Association of America “for some thematic material.” Running time: 125 minutes. Three stars out of four.

Swedish filmmaker Ruben Ostlund’s last film, “Force Majeure,” began with the rumble of an alpine avalanche and the wallop of a shattered self-image. When a swelling white tide appears headed straight for an outdoor cafe, a panicked father flees with his iPhone, but not his children or wife. Their respect for him is undone in a cloud of snow.

In Ostlund’s follow-up, the Palme d’Or-winning “The Square,” an upper-class, highly placed man is again humbled by a latent cowardice, but one that reveals itself in more subtle and daily acts of fraudulence.

Claes Bang stars as Christian, the handsome and suave chief curator of a Stockholm contemporary art museum. In the early scenes, we see him trying to explain a pompous museum description to an American journalist (Elisabeth Moss) and rehearsing remarks for a museum event that he will later pretend are off-the-cuff. He’s a smooth operator with the practiced air of privilege.

That the high-minded contemporary art world would have something a touch fake about it is far from a new idea. But Ostlund, in his fifth feature, has more expansive satire in mind. The title of “The Square” refers to an exhibit the museum is preparing in a city courtyard in which a square is laid into the cobblestone street. “The Square is a sanctuary of trust and caring,” reads the description. “Within its boundaries, we all share equal rights and obligations.”

Outside of the square, not so much. Throughout the film, Christian and others who espouse such enlightened ideals of community are seen failing to live up to them — and often not even trying to. “The Square” is a consistently clever odyssey of modern-day hypocrisy that rambles and hiccups but seldom lacks Ostlund’s charming but clinical satirical touch. It’s as entertaining as it is damning.

The central thread of the film begins with Christian’s phone, wallet and even cuff links being stolen in a sidewalk setup where a woman feigns to need help from her attacking boyfriend. Christian and another bystander rush to her aid, but while basking in his good deed, he realizes he’s been fleeced. Christian and a younger museum employee (Christopher Laesso) are able to track the phone to a low-income housing project where, in a lark that turns grave, Christian — unsure of which tenant to approach — disperses print-outs demanding the return of his things to every apartment.

The scheme has unwitting fallout for one furious little boy (Elijandro Edouard). Meanwhile, Christian spends an awkward night with the journalist, Anne, that includes both an unexplained chimpanzee walking around her apartment and a tense post-coital debate when Anne offers to discard the used prophylactic, rousing Christian’s suspicions. He later comes under fire for an ill-conceived marketing campaign for “The Square” that threatens his high perch.

“The Square” is populated by reminders of our more primitive impulses. In one terrific scene, a man with Tourette syndrome interrupts a well-attended conversation with a highfalutin conceptual artist (Dominic West). In the film’s centerpiece, a muscular performance artist posing as a gorilla (Terry Notary of “The Planet of the Apes”) runs amok at a fancy fundraising dinner. He stalks the well-dressed attendees until an air of real fear sets in. Only after the performer has thoroughly harassed one woman does anyone dare to protest; once a single man stands up, dozens follow. Compassion runs in herds.

There’s less balance to “The Square” than there was to “Force Majeure.” Its tight early scenes (one favorite: a sea of commuters breezing past the entreaty to “save a life today” with answers like “not right now”) give way to increasingly overwrought set pieces (like the dinner scene) that are eye-catching but implausible and, besides, lose the narrative. I’d also quibble with the very late entry of Christian’s children who turn up in the film’s final third to observe, impressionably, their father in his downfall.

But “The Square,” where the enlightened and well-heeled are always gliding past beggars, remains a potent satire. The key, I think, is the exceptional Bang, a tall and dapper Danish actor who could legitimately play James Bond. He plays Christian with just the right cocktail of vulnerability and arrogance. That he’s so easy to see through makes him, in a funny way, almost loveable.

“The Square,” a Magnolia Pictures release, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association of America for “language, some strong sexual content and brief violence.” Running time: 145 minutes. In Swedish and English with English subtitles. Three stars out of four.

Story: Jake Coyle