Kevin Harley

You’ll flinch, yes, but you’ll forget it just as quickly.

It’s the fully invested leads and graceful, poetic direction that give this study of emotional interiors its subtly heartbreaking power.

Bigger, bloodier, blunter. Ghostface goes all-in for the kills in a brash but broad requel-sequel, sharpened by Barrera/Ortega’s ace pairing.

Reynolds moves on from Green Lantern in Satrapi’s psycho-romp, pitched awkwardly between funny-haha and funny-peculiar, but blessed with enough style and smarts to merit a look.

As we watch Lee still encouraging ‘true believers’ well into his old age, it’s hard not to be moved.

Coherence croaks as Gout dishes enough jump-cuts, whip pans and slo-mo assassinations to make Michael Bay look restrained, but the multi-handed mood music offers meaty compensations.

A little more than a remake yet less than a makeover, Tina Fey’s watchable, well-cast revisit needed more daring to be wholly worthwhile.

Over-ambitious perhaps, but Freyne’s intensely executed ‘infected’ fable packs tension, resonance, and clout.

The punning title is true; his bracing words narrated by admirers, Fuller’s amazing journey is lovingly honoured. Fuller Life, full of heart.

Dagg keeps things simple, but his jogging camera whips up the urgency and he’s well-served by Sutherland’s rangy physicality.

Like E.T. gone wrong, director Kiah Roache-Turner’s underdeveloped but briskly suspenseful, suggestive arachno-shocker sees a kid with family issues find solace in alien company. Only this spidery E.T. will gobble you up before it phones home…

The sheer volume of potential readings eventually stalls on reductive soundbites about a faithless generation, but the set-pieces sizzle with style.

Solid casting and scares mix with thin plotting and middling monster moves in Savage’s King riff.

Davis, Dinklage, Zegler, and the Games thrill, but Snow doesn’t quite summon the substance needed to fulfil this long-haul prequel’s ambitions.

Reid’s a fine lead, but DuVernay’s usually firm footing wobbles in the CGI clouds of Disney fantasy.

Taking a cold, cruel plunge into its sociopath’s world, Winterbottom’s latest genre swerve is an accomplished neo-noir.

Sometimes fun, sometimes flatly awkward.

There’s a chemical imbalance here… Netflix’s super-drug thriller is less than addictive.

Lawrence’s mechanised menagerie and the directors’ stereoscopic smarts entertain most.

Too rackety and hackneyed to scare, The Nun groans next to the likes of Hereditary. Only the moody, menacing abbey inspires the right levels of belief.

Lowden and Findlay excel in their roles, but Mark Gill’s Moz-movie needed more: both more music and more “people who are young and alive”.

The cast’s likeable work falls right through the script holes.

Despite mostly sparky cast-work, the Phoenix never quite rises as hoped in Kinberg’s affectionate but often perfunctory X-Men send-off.

Fast, fierce, fuzzy: nicely unruly, naggingly undisciplined, Johnson’s live-action DC bow strains to entertain but struggles to breathe amid the noise.

Aiming straight for mounting dread, Parker gets the job done aggressively.

“Prepare for Gar-mageddon!” Or worse: more Smurfs films.

The cast commit, but The 355 is no lucky number for Kinberg, who only delivers diminished returns on spy-thriller genre conventions.

Fitful jolts aside, the devil trots out the old tunes wearily in this hoary and overcooked valentine to a horror classic.

Shipp Jr. thrills, but a busy script blurs too many nuances.

Wanted director Timur Bekmambetov stresses spectacle over subtext – and, effectively, leaves the cast floundering fast.

The leads deliver to order in this flimsy but playful frolic. A tankful of banter keeps the engine ticking nicely.

First too slow, then too silly, Vaughn’s well-cast but wayward romp fires off half-baked ideas without the focus needed to make them stick.

When someone in Age Of Extinction carps about “crap sequels and remakes” in movies, you almost choke on the audacity.

Tasked with brokering a peace between event-sized thrills, gaming lore and high fantasy, Jones embraces Warcraft’s world with laudable commitment: but when it comes to charging it with life, sheer bulk gets the better of him.

While the visuals are refreshingly clean and grounded for a modern superhero film, the story is bogged down by exposition and egregious product placement.