Joe Walsh

With a weak structure and little chemistry, Fantastic Four proves itself to be a franchise that was better off lost in space.

It's a good-looking film and the three leads hold our attention, yet the lacklustre plotting and lack of narrative drive undercut The Man from U.N.C.L.E.'s overall charm.

Ghost Protocol is action fluff, and on that level alone it works well enough.

By the third act all the stone-stepping plot points that get us from set-piece A to set-piece B start to wear thin.

Ant-Man is a smart action adventure that breathes new life into a long-running franchise, told with a level of intelligence that reminds those beleaguered by the onslaught of superhero movies that the genre still has a lot to give when in the right - if not the Wright - hands.

All of this is achieved with the signature levels of emotional intelligence that Pixar are renowned for. The level of detail with which they have created this world is staggering, with each aspect of the psyche carefully thought out.

Kent, who gathers a cast of extremely bright young things, creates a drama that glides with sorrowful grace, pitching at a respectful and tear-inducing tone.

It makes for truly sobering viewing that cuts to the quick, exposing the atrocities the country's government so willingly commits.

Whilst the tone is off, and the talented cast wasted, Exodus is, at times highly entertaining, albeit unintentionally.

With Unbroken, Jolie fails to captures Zamperini's life, and she focuses too much of what he endured and how he survived such suffering, crafting a lacklustre and dull film about an incredibly remarkable man.

The Imitation Game's approach is successful as entertainment but not totally satisfactory in providing greater insight into its subject.

Jackson's efforts have peaked and troughed, but this final chapter will undoubtedly satisfy fans, and kindle a sense of sadness as this hobbit's tale finally draws to a close.

Devoid of cash-in cynicism, and full of belly-shaking humour, Paddington proves to be not just a wonderful contemporary rendition of the bear, but a polite hat-tip to the man who created him, paying homage in the best way possible: by bringing a gentle, slightly reserved, smile to audience faces.

With Yves Saint Laurent, Lespert has played it safe but stylish, and pulls it off thanks to some canny casting choices and a refreshing focus on mainstream appeal.

T.S. Spivet is a dreamlike fairytale, which swims in the romanticism of childhood and the decay of the American Dream.

Despite its pitfalls, Maleficent entertains because of Jolie, who holds the wavering threads of Stromberg's spinning wheel together with aplomb.

Tender, charming and made with substantial care, Next Goal Wins celebrates the cliché that it's not about winning, but the taking part.

As an audience, you're infected with the languor Abby suffers, realising that as pretty as Concussion looks and with such an interesting premise behind it, beneath the surface there is precious little to really sink your teeth into.

Sadly, In Secret's script is so loaded with dud lines that any of the more successful elements are quickly erased from memory.

The comedy is never hearty enough to be truly enjoyable, only managing a chain reaction of titters at best.

Binoche's potent performance [cuts] to the quick of the struggle to balance a passion for work with a commitment to family.

The rage that fuels Singleton's film is harnessed to great effect, he shows the reality, and while it builds to a melodramatic conclusion, it depicts life at its most raw.

Leach's camera remains sympathetic to these characters. He doesn't judge, and for a time it is intriguing to see why these people are so obsessed with this myth.

To modern audiences the nostalgia and issues seem dated and trite. Whilst it touches on several interesting themes, Colin Welland's script only succeeds in establishing the tension of the two conflicting characters. He fails to truly engage with the issues at hand, and most surprising of all is how this sporting saga of triumph over adversity fails to ever uplift.

A garishly macabre vision of a Britain exiting the war years and trying to come of age, it presents a time when society was ridding itself of the shackles of its Best-Of-British conventions, and forging a new path. Sadly though, with any coming of age tale there are those who are unable to grow at the same rate. Withnail is one of those, too happy to take all the pleasures, and never wake up to reality.

Ultimately, the attempt to over-deliver on themes leads to a serious under-delivery of dramatic impact. This is a disjointed film, inexplicably a classic for some, that fails to engage with modern audiences.

Rather than confront the guilt related to the sins of the past it paints over them in vivid colours, hoping the viewer will collude in its melodramatic muddying of the water.

Once seen, Aldrich’s What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? is hard to forget, as it charts the sad path of many a former child star to the backwaters of the Hollywood hills.