Ian Nathan

Everything from the style to the casting feels grubby and worn.

This no-brainer is fine if all you're after a bit of escapism, but don't look for anything deeper than that.

A classic, of sorts.

An uneven mix of impressively executed, violent clichés about good ol' boys defending the American right to flout the law.

Clearly not a |Disney classic as almost no-one has heard of it, this is vaguely enjoyable 70s hokum.

This has grit coming out of its ears but not the greatest Eastwood feature by a long shot.

Hardly a barrel of laughs then, but this slowburn tale sears its way onto the synapses and then flat refuses to budge.

Foxes with bows and arrows..what could be better than that?

Peckinpah is never quite as comfortable with the high-rise terrain (including sloppy kung fu) as he is with the dusty rawhide of the West, but it still shows up the slick trigger-edits of new action cinema for the gutless vacuum it has become.

A tormented movie about torment; loopy, over-reaching and occasionally suspicious. Simultaneously, it is a daring artistic endeavour.

It's not the plot that disappoints, it's the poor dialogue between action sequences. Sadly another film to file under not as good as the book.

Forgettable, innocent, old fashioned fairy tale with not nearly as much sexual chemistry as is required.

Okay, a couple of sniggers sneak out, but on the whole the effect is stone cold.

More style than substance... but such sexy, sexy style...

No matter how well dressed, the movie can’t escape the gravitational pull of formula. Without a convincing subtext, Black Rain is pretty dull fare indeed.

A modernised Bond is dragged kicking and screaming into the 70s.

As with all great spoofers, you can feel the love the director has for Hitchcock, the thoroughness of his jokes vouches for that and the entire plot is loosely based on Spellbound. Perhaps, he was too devoted, the film lacks daring, it’s soft, Hitch would have sneered at such weakness.

Passionate performances from De Niro and Jeremy Irons in this stark but thematically complex historical drama.

Don’t let its commercial nosedive in the US tell the whole story. Cloud Atlas is a tough sell, but a rewarding journey all the same. It’s an adventure into the very concept of storytelling: magical, enthralling and thrilling as much as bewildering, pompous and potty. In other words, up in the clouds.

Justice hasn't been done. The heavens haven't fallen. But skilfully prodding and probing at the edges of America’s greatest crime scene, Oliver Stone reinforces the argument that this was far from an open-and-shut case.

Fairly routine western makes a disappointing swansong for Hawks. Still good fun though, if you like this kind of thing.

Despite DiCaprio’s prize performance, purists will fume, but even as lit-crashing razzle-dazzle entertainment Luhrmann’s adaptation is a candelabrum too far.

Weightless, but not without its enchantments, this is Woody Allen coasting. But where better to coast than the loveliest coast of all?

Lewis Gilbert, and two career best performances from his leading actors, give this film such energy it leaves the pleasant aroma of life and possibility.

Moore just looks confused. He obviously wants to do his thing then hit the bar for cocktails, but John Glen is nagging him to add a roughness to the slick exterior. Equally, it just doesn’t fit. The news is clear, there’s only so far you can push a Bond before it breaks.

You end up with this perky but pointless rehash of the cute alien format that became embedded in the late ‘80s.

Not a masterpiece, by any stretch of the imagination, but it's pleasing to see a sequel strive so hard to reach the same heights. That it fails is through no fault of its own - the original simply raised the bar too high.

Arnie still swings that sword with aplomb, but with a story this ludicrous, he's on slippery ground.