David Hughes

Weir couldn't make a boring film if his life depended on it, and for any other director The Way Back would be laudable. It's good, but from this director we have come to expect great.

Dean Devlin finally steps out from Roland Emmerich’s shadow with a tight, twisty little thriller. Add a fourth star to the rating if David Tennant going full Nicolas Cage sounds like your kind of thing.

Polanski’s unavoidably stagy adaptation of David Ives’ celebrated Broadway play is an enjoyably witty two-hander, confined to its theatre setting, yet with much to say about gender roles in the world beyond.

Far from the giant mess you’d expect from the delayed release, late title change and a production history as muddled as the source material, Singer’s tall tale is snatched from disaster by an all-hell-breaks-loose third act.

Better than "The Transporter" but not as much fun as "Crank".

Gregg Araki's sci-fi is a weird and, just occasionally, wonderful skew on the college comedy. Slight but fun.

Taymor's winningly cast, imaginative take on Shakespeare passes the test of bringing the Bard to film. It may also be the only PG Disney film to contain the word "F---".

The ever-versatile Winterbottom's loose and limber adaptation doesn't entirely mesh with Hardy's more formal narrative, leaving this feeling disjointed and underpowered. Nevertheless, there's still plenty to enjoy in the director's customary flourishes.

There's undoubtedly comedy mileage in an irreverent sending up of the Signs/Magnolia school of everything-is-connected philosophy. Despite the calibre of the cast, the Duplass brothers mostly fail to find it.

A musical with almost 100% sung verse is not for everyone but Kendrick is as bewitching as ever.

A sub-Hitchcockian thriller with enough forward momentum to thunder over its many plot holes, The Commuter is a surprisingly enjoyable if instantly forgettable crowd-pleaser that takes the audience for a ride — in more ways than one.

The Wrong Missy is a little hit-and-miss, but it’s funny and inventive, and Lapkus is good enough to make the word “zany” tolerable again.

Reinforcing the very rom-com tropes it's sending up, this is a little too postmodern for its own good. Happily, Poehler and Rudd are as irresistible as ever.

While Ascher brings the experiences to life in a way that could conceivably induce nightmares in casual viewers, the potency of these scenes is ultimately diminished by repetition.

If TV had a Saga Channel, this intriguing, if never quite gripping, serial killer thriller would play on a loop, in between reruns of Matlock and NCIS.

Schnabel doesn't comes close to the quiet power of his last feature, "The Diving Bell And The Butterfly," delivering a story that can't match the scope or scale of Rula Jebreal's source material.

Totally crackers but it gets powered by pure invention and eccentricity alone.

A nasty little chiller from the Saw director with the evergreen De Mornay on top form.

A documentary of two halves, Gibney's character study of Armstrong is tough and forensic. But whether through a lingering admiration or the film's origins as a straightforward celebration of the cyclist's talents, there are moments when its powder remains a little dryer than perhaps it should.

It's a surprise to see Wim Wenders embracing 3D in its full, feature-length glory but the medium works well to capture the graceful swirl of the German choreographer's work.

Walker was Oscar nominated for Waste Land this year, and while this occasionally unfocused doc doesn't hit those heights, it's still a valuable and scary film that should be seen.

It's gratifying to see Butler giving a proper acting role the old college try. Despite his best efforts, Forster's film, while pulling no punches, still somehow manages to miss the mark.

Does to the medieval era what Cage's Wicker Man did to Anthony Shaffer. Hokum and not in a good way.

A desire to Know What You Did Last Installment is likely to be the biggest draw for Scream number four, but if this proves to be the last in the series, it's a bloody shame it ended not with a Scream but a whimper.

Another shake-and-bake Stath special, boasting the requisite punchy-fighty action and some pleasing sleaziness from Franco and Bosworth, but it's ponderously handled by director Fleder.

Good fun, but O'Nan doesn't take this film nearly as far as it could go, leaving the plot and its characters somewhat two-dimensional in their obvious stereotyping.

Feeling like a relic from the wave of ’90s crime ensembles that followed in Tarantino’s wake, Arkansas not only squanders some good talent, it’s a tragic waste of a fine book.

Newcomers will be puzzled by the clumsy contextualisation and muddled motivation of characters who, robbed of their inner lives by a clunky script, are left floundering amid the melodrama and speak-the-plot dialogue.