James Mottram

Loaded with flashbacks, it’s unevenly mounted but kept watchable by the lively script and classy cast.

More Blue Steel than Magnum, this is a perfectly serviceable sequel, but dogged by repetition, it lacks the original's speed and sizzle.

A notch above its predecessors.

The excessive CGI can be distracting, some performances veer towards caricature, but this is still a big-hearted take on London’s classic.

Packed tight, Jacobs’ straightforward sequel may boast less up top than the Soderbergh-directed original, but still bulges where it counts.

There’s Fassbender’s charisma, an unhinged Sean Harris and Tom Rowland music.

Fascinating story, flawed telling.

Its love-in-later-life insights are well-worn, but with Staunton on song, Richard Loncraine’s film mines genuine feeling.

A grand folly that makes the Wachowskis’ "The Matrix" trilogy look prosaic, Cloud Atlas is a fascinating if flawed work that will leave you gasping one minute and gagging the next.

While there’s sweetness, the big, sweeping emotions you hope for never quite arrive.

But while DaCosta’s Candyman reboot was thrilling, this never musters the same level of engagement, despite a script that is chock full of good lines and a cast of willing participants. More meh than marvel, you might say.

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.

As summer blockbusters go, it’s only ever really mildly diverting. But bringing us a first Latino superhero in a DC movie, ably played by the charming Maridueña, is still to be applauded.

Assured, adult filmmaking from a writer/director who knows her way around the ups and downs of relationships.

With a wraparound narrative that never really strikes a balance between past and present, all that axe-flinging, ice-casting action makes a modest impact.

Another silly but sturdy instalment that’s as well-oiled as The Rock’s muscles. If the ‘Letty in London’ story doesn’t exactly have that new-car smell, this is still the fastest soap opera on wheels.

With Yakin's all-action plot operating like clockwork, an on-song Statham proves anything but expendable in a genre he dominates. Predictable, sure, but equally pleasurable.

A sweet-natured love story, well-intentioned, animated and acted, but lacking the depth of some of the studio’s greatest triumphs.

Shepard’s film is fun but forgettable in the first hour, then disappointing in the final third. But Law’s raucous turn keeps you watching.

It may lose its way on occasions, but thanks to a committed cast and a script that captures the Kerouac vibe, Salles' adaptation never ends up on the road to nowhere.

What emerges is a touching study (in more ways than one) of the trials, terrors and triumphs of living with physical disability.

From the generic title to the formulaic plot (stolen plutonium, highest bidder etc.), you can imagine the rest. But director Michael Cuesta (Kill the Messenger) injects vitality where it’s needed.

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.

There’s a lack of genuine emotional heft, not helped by some clunky dialogue (lines like "we are literally living on borrowed time"). But what the film really misses, amid several ear-splitting, CG-heavy alien-attack set-pieces, is humour.

Outrageous, outlandish and overboard, The Dictator will satisfy Cohen's army of fans. But it never feels as funny, full-on or fresh as "Borat" and "Brüno."

All of this is watchable enough, but Strange World does rather lack dynamism in the final third, especially after such a hallucinatory set-up. As the story heads towards resolution, it becomes more likely to elicit shrugs not shrieks.

With recriminations turning to compassion, the film sings when these French titans share the screen, Deneuve’s loose cannon a mixture of hedonism and terror. If only the other scenes were as compelling.