James Mottram

It’s just a shame the formulaic story feels about as paper-thin as you might expect from an adaptation of a ladders-and-levels video game. As is so common in these Hollywood animations, the ‘family is forever’ theme looms large, but never once feels sincere or authentic.

Like an inoffensive light ale, the result slips down more pleasantly than you might expect.

The final act doesn't quite pay off, with characters' motives left frustratingly opaque, but the film is blessed with cast-iron performances, especially from Graham and Boon.

With so many of the gang now in the ground, this swansong doesn’t boast the same punk energy of the show’s early seasons. Only occasionally does it snarl and show its teeth, with flashes of the cold-blooded violence that gave it so much of an edge.

It’s a good exercise for Cooper in creating something more low-key, even if it doesn’t quite come off. Still, in the days where adult-skewing dramas are becoming an endangered species in movie theatres, this should be applauded for attempting the subject of divorce with a level head.

Even if No Other Choice will leave you stone-faced, you can’t help but admire the invention on display, especially in later scenes, where Park dips into the surreal.

Devised by Brutalist composer Daniel Blumberg, the songs are spirited, and Mamma Mia! star Seyfried invests fully. But with characters often reduced to making declamatory statements, it becomes an increasingly vexing exercise.

Powell is a very watchable everyman, convincingly demonstrating the man of the people integrity of his character. There’s great work too from Colman Domingo as the show’s slick presenter Bobby T and Michael Cera, who plays a loose-cannon contact that Richards makes during his quest for survival. Wright also handles the explosive action well, orchestrating elaborate, kinetic set pieces that throb with excitement.

Certainly, this lacks the cheekiness of, say, M3GAN. With the exception of an amusing riff about Depeche Mode (better than Mozart, according to Ares), it requires a much-needed humour injection. In Tron terms, the future is less bright than po-faced.

It would be unfair to claim this closing film concludes on a whimper. But neither is it quite the grand finale the title would have us believe. More like a pleasant stroll with characters you know and love.

Johnson, looking radically different under a cropped black wig, takes this opportunity and wrestles with it. Not since his work for Michael Bay in Pain & Gain has he done anything this out of his comfort zone.

This is a typically unsophisticated, heart-in-the-right-place comedy from Sandler, complete with Happy’s four sons mooning and making dick jokes.

Well made, but instantly forgettable.

You won’t be able to shake the feeling that there’s a lack of heart and soul here.

A few fights enliven proceedings, including one on a road lined with cherry blossom trees. But this is largely dull and disappointing.

Is it scary? Rarely, to be honest. But it knows how to twist the knife, at least.

A credible, if slightly limited, prequel that recaptures the atmosphere if not the originality of Rosemary’s Baby.

For those looking for an easy-on-the-eye, brain-in-neutral-thriller, Wolfs still hits the spot.

It’s just a pity that the storytelling sprawls all over the place, with some plotlines (like the Beetlejuice/Delores discord) failing to pay off. But mostly Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is a fun afterlife frolic.

But as the film lurches into the final third, there’s little emotional sustenance to keep you going. Just one yawn-worthy twist and some dud CGI. Avoid.

Murphy’s youthful cheekiness has long gone, stripping this sequel of some of its verve. But this is still an enjoyable, affable reunion: the heat is just about back on.

The final act loses its way, but in the main West wraps his slasher trilogy in satisfying style, putting a blood-soaked, Hollywood-branded bow on his eras-spanning saga.

The cast is given a boost by the star power of Vanessa Hudgens, Alexander Ludwig and Paolo Núñez all reprising their roles as members of AMMO (Advanced Miami Metro Operations), plus Better Call Saul’s Rhea Seehorn joining as the ballsy US Marshall daughter of the accused Captain Howard. It’s just a shame they’re all woefully underused in a story that feels so same-old-same-old.

As ever, Cronenberg leaves you with much to chew on, but dramatically The Shrouds feels rather inert, as if it can’t get out of second gear

It’s entertaining to a point. ... But whether the filmmakers truly get under Trump’s skin is debatable. Do we learn much new about him? Perhaps not, but it’s an absorbing journey all the same.

A competent if occasionally clunky biopic, enlivened by a superb Marisa Abela, who truly inhabits Winehouse and brings those songs to life.

Wingard does try out something different here, creating long dialogue-free sequences where it’s just the monsters going toe-to-toe. With Wingard relying on gestures, grunts and groans from his alpha-beasts, it’s like watching the most expensive silent movie ever made.

Too many characters and callbacks plus a formulaic plot means Frozen Empire doesn’t touch the original movies, but it’s a likeable-enough brand extension.