Alex Godfrey

In years to come, when this appears on TV late at night, it’ll be impossible to switch off. It’s just one of those films. A stone-cold, instant classic.

War is hell, and Warfare refuses to shy away from it. Free of the operatics of most supposed anti-war films, it’s all the more effective for its simplicity. It is respectfully gruelling.

The most batshit music biopic since Todd Haynes did the Karen Carpenter story with Barbie dolls, Michael Gracey pulls off the biggest cinematic surprise of the year. An absolute blast. 

It’s all a little too lightweight, and not above corniness and sentimentality, but it does earn its little emotional breakthroughs, modest as they are. And the sense of time and place is vivid.

Operating at the peak of his powers, Luca Guadagnino has the time of his life with this practically sadistic exploration of unrelenting obsession. It is horny, it is hungry, it is phenomenally exciting filmmaking.

There was potential here, but Frozen Empire is an overpopulated mish-mash, with too many heroes to wrangle. What’s left is a bit of a gooey mess. We’ve been slimed.

Zen and the art of toilet cleaning? You’d better believe it. This is as gentle as it gets — a humble little film, maybe, but an enriching one. It’s a soul-cleanse.

A striking, unforgettable exercise in absence, this is about what we don’t see — and what we choose not to see. The horror is unseen but underlying, and all the more arresting because of it.

It’s hard to think of another recent drama that feels so brazenly personal, so yearning, so naked and vulnerable. It feels like forgiveness, for Haigh himself, and maybe for others. He’s letting it all out. These characters are a lifeline for him, too.

Golda lives in the shadow of the film it wants to be, but Mirren’s warm performance and the claustrophobia of it all make it linger regardless.

An inspired, soulful piece of sci-fi, the endlessly stunning visuals all in service of a heartfelt, sensitive story. Gareth Edwards is the real deal — this is fantastic, enveloping cinema.

This one’s an endlessly thrilling, continuously propulsive beast, tense from the start: even the quieter, conversational scenes have you on edge. Mission, once again, accomplished.

Serving up stone-cold multiplex mayhem, Sisu makes no bones about it — this is a film about one mad bastard killing a gazillion Nazis. It’s almost impossible not to love it.

If you’re not up for a film that’s nearly three hours of wall-to-wall fighting, this chapter might get on your wick. That fighting, though, is a bone-crunching, butt-clenching masterclass.

Quantumania isn’t as wacky as it should be, and the humongous stakes feel oddly small. But where else do you get a wild Jonathan Majors, an intense Michelle Pfeiffer and talking broccoli?

A beguiling and often brutal look at the life of a donkey, this hijacks your heart, your mind, your ears and your eyes from start to finish.

In two-and-a-half hours, a decade of Spielberg’s own life flies by. An autopsy of a marriage and a homage to invention, it’s a bittersweet piece of joy.

Guillermo del Toro’s perspective runs through every frame of this unique retelling, which isn’t afraid to tackle troubling themes. A sincere, soulful exploration of what it means to be human.

Both a coming of age and an exploration of an era, this self-biographical reminiscence feels both regretful and hopeful – a filmmaker trying to make peace. It’s not sugar-coated, but it’s full of love.

Strawberry Mansion is hugely ambitious, even more so because it doesn’t quite have the resources to realise its own dreams. Nonetheless, it’s a soulful, adorable and unique little trip.

Though not without charm, and some splendid CGI, this scattershot grab-bag of good intentions results in a bit of an emotional flatline. This puppet will not tug on your heartstrings.

A claustrophobic portrait of pre-adolescent turmoil, this is an exceptionally taut drama. It’s Wandel’s debut feature, and it feels like she’s been preparing for it her whole life.

A beguiling and beautiful film about a total toerag, Red Rocket is a unique character study: Mikey Saber will charm your socks off, and you’ll hate him for it.

There’s palpable dread throughout this stagey but nevertheless evocative whirlwind of dysfunction. It’s a gripping, appropriately stifling experience, and the feelings — the fear, the disappointment, the unhappiness — hit home.

Resurrections suffers from an identity crisis, going from being supremely fun and knowing to weirdly pedestrian. It’s a slippery mish-mash— entertaining in big bursts but ultimately a little hollow.

This charmingly odd tribute to Sorrentino’s formative years is slighter than it possibly deserves to be, but when it’s this handsome, who cares? Will have you absolutely salivating for Italy.

It’s hard to take House Of Gucci seriously, because it never seems to take itself seriously. Yet with such glee being had by those involved, it’s an infectious, bizarro bit of fun.

As stirring and heart-warming as you’d like, this is a hugely touching family opus. It’s nothing revolutionary, but it’s straight from the heart and gets you in the gut.

A film as sweet as it is sad, as pertinent as it is absurd, Limbo is an experience where not much seems to happen but where little things mean the world.

A perfectly painted portrait that also makes for sharp social commentary, this just goes to show what you can do with a tiny budget but a huge amount of talent.

While not quite offering the emotional gut-punch it promises, its many ideas never completely cohering, Soul is nevertheless a gorgeous and tender existential trip. It’s full of surprises.

While not exploitative and (mostly) not gratuitous, this is as tough as it gets — you bleed for this kid. Even if it gets a bit too much, you just can’t look away. Thrilling filmmaking.

Once again seizing control of the medium, Nolan attempts to alter the fabric of reality, or at least blow the roof off the multiplexes. Big, bold, baffling and bonkers.

With The King Of Staten Island, Apatow goes for the heart — but with lesser yuks than usual and a subdued lead, it all kind of drifts by. Within it, though, are moments of real vigour and fragility.

A filmed stage show with barely any bells and whistles, this is an endearing trip through time, via a band who constantly changed the game. And the music is immense.

There’s righteous fury here, and while Winterbottom and Coogan’s sincerity isn’t in doubt, it feels like they’re coasting a bit. There are laughs, but no surprises and not much heart. They have no love for this guy, but as a result, we’re left with something a little one-dimensional.

Sweetening up a smidgen without chilling out, this is Miike having fun, bombarding us with squirm-inducing violence while making us laugh and — ever so slightly — tugging on the heartstrings.

Sweet and sincere.

This is an enchanting little story, to a point – it’s thin stuff, but while it never fully gets the emotions jangling, there’s charm to spare and the action is dynamic and occasionally thrilling.

A compassionate meditation on love, loss and family, Waves is hyper-stylish yet emotionally grounded. Despite some very high drama, it has a huge heart, and hits you where it hurts.

Somewhere between a primal scream, a self-acceptance and even a forgiveness of sorts, this is an utterly unique bit of autobiography. Brave, bold, and a little batshit.

Although 1917’s filmmaking very much brings attention to itself, it’s an astonishing piece of filmmaking, portraying war with enormous panache. This is big-screen bravado, and then some.

The potentially interesting material is suffocated by a B-movie story and a C-grade script.

This is intentionally jagged but nevertheless frustrating, a little too self-satisfied for its own good. Yet there are some great moments and, when it relaxes a bit, it has charm to spare.

A psychologically merciless sequel, everything here is as it should be: deeper, scarier, funnier. Muschietti in particular has stepped up, skilfully guiding us through a rollicking funhouse. It is obscenely entertaining.

It’s well-intentioned and pretty, but not much else. Occasional stylistic flourish aside, it offers nothing we haven’t seen before, buckling under the weight of its own conservatism.

Scorsese’s doc appears like one thing but sounds like another. It totally gets it.

Dramatically, Thunder Road is a little thin, but the plot’s not the point: this is all about Cummings, who sparkles with charisma and confidence. It’s an unabashed indulgence.

It’s absolutely a period piece (heightened by being in black and white), but its humanity is ageless, serving up an irresistible amount of thrills, spills and jaw-aches.

No fence-sitting here, Sorry To Bother You wallops its targets. Drenched in self-awareness, it is fantastically refreshing, defiantly announcing Riley as a radical new voice.

Bewildering in all the right ways, this is a poetic, sublime interpretation of a sorry story. An evocative, emotional experience, it pits humanity against inhumanity, resulting in something refreshingly new.

Its refusal to dress itself up is admirable, but overall we're talking about a slow trudge through the sludge.

An often effective reboot, this does everything you’d expect, but that’s a real shame.

It’s uncomfortable in all the right ways.

Hold The Dark is rather unwell. Both intimate and epic, it is appropriately cold, resisting warmth at every turn, more a philosophical adventure than an emotional one.

A beautifully staged film with everything in its place, this is both an affectionate homage and a timely commentary, falling only slightly short of its own ambition. Classy pulp fiction.

It is wittier, warmer and more unpredictable than it has any right to be.

A small, slight window into a mixed-up soul, this is more intriguing than engaging. Its restraint, though, is admirable, resulting in a mood-piece with an ongoing sense of unease.

Not quite a terrifying thrill-ride, Ghost Stories is a creepy, disturbing ghost train with a beefier backbone than its source material, trading on tropes but still making your skin itch.

The third Cloverfield film is just about a Cloverfield film, but definitely a disappointment, trading on its name but not living up to its already muddled heritage. Only intermittently fun.