Ben Nicholson

Kelly eschews talking heads or expert testimony, and only rarely to characters flesh out the skeleton provided by occasional intertitles. When this style is employed for a single, short-term conflict, it can be incredibly powerful (just think of Sergei Loznitsa’s Maïdan) but Kelly’s film effectively drops the audience in situ at specific events within a much broader six-year framework without any context.

Di Giacomo doesn’t build sequences to heighten tension, although some is unavoidable. Often, the film follows the relatively mundane work of the Franciscan Father Cataldo Migliazzo, the film’s primary protagonist, and the otherwise everyday lives of those who come to him for help.

A compelling re-telling of the singer's story.

For all of the perfection of the period-detail browns and greys, Afterimage could have done with a touch more colour.

By focusing on the family, James makes Abacus about resilience and humility rather than the mechanics of litigation and in doing so underscores - perhaps more strongly than in other louder films on similar subjects - the injustice of the situation.

Like much of his recent scripted work, it's a mannered affair that's vague and clumsy.

The period atmosphere isn't alive with bold ideas as much as decay.

The story begins with the film's defining act and most accomplished sequence but, despite handsome execution, never hits those heights again in a plot where familiarity severely dampens the squib.

Striking a balance between the dark and combative religious humour and its more saccharine elements proves difficult.

For Herzog it is people that matter and he's just as fascinated by Elon Musk's gazing at the stars as those battering their keyboards or avoiding them altogether.

Louis Black and Karen Bernstein pay warm tribute to the filmmaker in what is a fitting ode to independent spirit more than a penetrating portrait.

The two stars stay on their game but their relationship is largely sidetracked in favour of fending off ghouls. While the heart rate may increase the creepiness dissipates, though The Autopsy of Jane Doe remains good genre fun - if little more.

It's not just some science-fiction about rodents preying on humans; it's a documentary about it. "They will literally kill us," explains a lecturer early on in what the filmmakers frame as a fully-fledged horror complete with jump-scares, an ominous score, and all manner of squeamish moments.

This is the fourth instalment in the Guest mockumentary 'canon' and it's evidence that the format has now solidified into a template that needs refreshing, as much gentle enjoyment as it might bring.

Gordon-Levitt is perfectly fine as Snowden, getting the voice and cadence fairly spot on and he looks almost right. The problem is that he's such an introvert and blank slate - that's pretty good for espionage but not especially compelling for a character arc.

It's an enjoyable jumpy imitation.

A drab and airless affair, it effectively ignores the substantial political commentaries inherent in its story, and fails to land the emotional punches of the one it's intent on telling.

It might seem unlikely that something so narratively simplistic and ultimately childish could sustain its runtime but the chaos and comedy of the haphazard gunplay is such that it only suffers from a handful of lulls.

Richard Wenk and Nic Pizzolatto's screenplay completely lacks the interpersonal vibrancy that a film like this needs and this is glaring given that it maintains the slow-build tension of the original.

Though it is clearly a work of great empathy and respect, Bobby Sands: 66 Days takes pains to offer alternative perspectives and as such makes for a richly textured and complex portrait of man, myth and movement.

Despite its claims to zaniness and colouring outside the lines, probably the most damning indictment of the silly Suicide Squad is that it's unrelentingly bland.

The political commentary feels far more explicitly pointed and widely integral than in previous incarnations which adds a bold new dynamic where perhaps the same re-inventive verve is lacking in the film's formulaic story. Fortunately, Greengrass and Damon are so in command of this material it's rarely too much of a concern. Even when little of substance seems to be happening, the narrative feels propulsive.

Shim directs well, but he lacks the verve for this to sail through on its visuals and although the denouement returns to the unconventional (discounting the unnecessary coda), the climax reduces the impact of what was otherwise an enthralling voyage.

There is meaning beneath the madness, but Men & Chicken is best recommended to those who are prepared to sit through the deeply sinister absurdity.

It's endearing, but unlikely to convert those that have previously resisted the director's charms.

As an entry into the Scandi police procedural genre, The Keeper of Lost Causes disappoints. As a TV pilot, however, it's serviceable yet unremarkable; the kind of thing that you'd probably give a couple more episodes in the vain hope that things will pick up.

The problem is that Apocalypse's highlights feel like moments of serenity amidst two-and-a-half-hours of lumbering, inconsequential chaos.