Alex Godfrey

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 slight but consistently entertaining, thoroughly funny slice of life, this is Ben Wheatley untethered, letting off steam with a workout. It is a welcome carnival of misanthropy.

Cruise is as compelling as ever with charm to spare, and this is a ceaselessly entertaining, sometimes tense romp. Although it doesn’t dig much below the surface.

Sweet and sincere.

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.

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.

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’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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.