James Mottram

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

Baker controls the narrative with real aplomb, crafting a time-bomb mix of physical comedy and high drama. Better still, the final third alights on real pathos.

This is an assured, blackly funny, and outrageous horror that will leave you roaring with approval.

With stellar songs by French singer Camille, a highly original score by Clément Ducol, and striking choreography by Damien Jalet, Emilia Pérez shifts effortlessly from musical extravagances to a gritty underworld milieu.

Delivering her first narrative feature since 2016’s American Honey, Arnold initially seems to be retreading familiar social-realist ground, delving into poverty-stricken working-class lives. But in its second half Bird crosses into fable-like territory, with impressive results.

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.

You’re left with the feeling that the film could have been made under another title, with no brand recognition, and be no less successful. Still, that’s Hollywood for you; at least the result emerges as a fine tribute to the unsung heroes of the movie business.

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.

In the end, Road House is a solid actioner, a frolic that Liman marshals competently. This is a fun Friday-night fight-fest, best enjoyed with a few bevvies – brash, loud, knockabout and liable to leave you with a cauliflower ear or two.

Throughout, there’s a tendency to descend into farce, which yields laughs, but ultimately hampers these Letters’ potential to say something more profound.

Certainly, it’s not for those looking for fist-pumping sporting triumphalism. But in this age of franchise vapidity, it’s still a film worth grappling with.

A neat mash-up of high-school comedy and horror tropes. Pity it flounders in the final third, though.

Despite the slightly uneven pacing, Wright’s sturdy performance keeps things on an even keel. The result is a fiendishly sharp poke at questionable notions of Black representation in the modern world.

While its oddball nature won’t be to all tastes, the championing of female guile over insufferable male idiocy will surely leave many with a big smile on their faces.

A damp-squib horror with zero thrills. Russell and Condon deserve much better.

Blending OTT gore, devilish humor and on-the-nose satire, this is sick, twisted and hugely enjoyable.

For a while, the film seems unsure which direction to take. But a darker third act sees Paul’s benign personality begin to warp in people’s dreams, impacting his entire life. Meanwhile, echoing the work of Charlie Kaufman (Being John Malkovich in particular), Dream Scenario morphs into a wickedly funny satire on the pernicious nature of social media.

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.

Bell is as low-key brilliant as he always is – that ominous, gravelly voice gets a great workout, while his withered, grey-haired appearance lends the film real gravitas. And yes, there is enough Saw iconography here to keep the bloodthirsty on-side.

Eschewing melodrama for a more low-key register, it may not satisfy those looking for quick thrills. But this slow-burner is a stylish look at a bygone era, when all that mattered was having enough money to put petrol in your tank.

At least Scream star Matthew Lillard brings some creepiness into his little screen time. Otherwise, Five Nights At Freddy’s is moribund.

With a quality cast (which also includes Lena Olin as Winton’s wife and Jonathan Pryce as his friend), this is a finely crafted film that unfolds with great care, building towards a cathartic climax.

Admittedly, the film’s oddly paced, elliptical middle section may leave you scratching your head. But then the twisty third act pulls it all together, sending shivers down the spine.

Even in a crowded AI-movie market, Edwards’s stellar sci-fi is a terrific achievement. See it on the largest, loudest screen possible.

Sly and Statham are always watchable – not least when the latter takes a job as security for an odious social media influencer. But they can’t save this mission from going painfully pear-shaped.

Director Craig Gillespie (I, Tonya) tells this pandemic-era David-and-Goliath story energetically.