Kim Newman

Chucky's smartest, sharpest outing yet.

Still creepy, ooky, mysterious and spooky, but trying to follow the storylines is like sorting spaghetti.

Breaking the golden rule of thrillers - don't let the audience guess the ending from 15 minutes in - this just becomes largely pointless.

More entertaining than "The Da Vinci Code," but still tosh.

Despite being not officially a Bond film this is good solid, entertaining action.

Lambert fails to convince as the action star and somehow it is left to a computer to steal the show.

Though it might charitably be described as "a load of old cods", there is a certain entertainment value to Murder At 1600.

This energetically charmless 'family' fantasy lies there dead on screen, occasionally twitching at a funny line.

Once past a first reel which deliberately sticks to torture porn conventions, Pet is redeemed by a series of developments that take the film into surprising story and character areas.

King of the Monsters delivers what its genre requires. Truly awesome monster scenes fill the screen, often imbued with emotional resonance by music cues.

Resembling a kids’-birthday-party remake of 1973's The Legend Of Hell House, this suffers from being not that funny or spooky. Its saving grace is a cast you’re happy to spend time with.

A decent, mid-list spy thriller, suspended somewhere between le Carré and Bond but with a budgetary austerity in keeping with UK government spending cuts that keeps it out of the real high-stakes game.

A noisy but enjoyable destruction derby of a film, sadly with none of the subtlety, invention or skill of Spielberg's Duel.

Smart, fun, mid-list horror with Scream overtones

Very, very low-brow.

If the series wants to become a franchise, a rethink and new blood will be necessary -- maybe Banderas can get mortally wounded in reel one of The Son Of Zorro, passing on the mask and sword to, say, Gael García Bernal.

Super sexy, silly Meyer fun where he takes his own self-styled genre to its heights/depths.

It’s an intense, imaginative piece of work – which treads over familiar ground but modestly ventures a bit further in the climax.

An okay paranormal mystery, with solid work from the regulars – but please Mr Carter, next time, could we have liver-eating mutants or post-modern comedy like the really good episodes of The X Files?

As a thriller it's solid three-star tension. As a Samuel L. Jackson showcase it proves a man can only coast through so many motherfuckin' or milquetoastin' turns before having to display his full and overpowering talent.

Half-an-hour too long, but still a fun ride.

44 Inch Chest gets by on the quality of its performances.

Figgis, reunited with Gere after Internal Affairs, went through the Hollywood mangle on this one, and despite flashes of insight, anything worthwhile gets lost in a script that strains too hard for truth and provokes unfortunate big laughs.

As horror, it's a worn-out succession of gory, meaningless, hard-to-enjoy deaths, and too much of the running time is given over to puppets arguing with each other.

Sentimental, cliched and at times overdone but a true weepy if ever there was one.

There’s a wobble about how committed this is to being a scary movie rather than an inside Hollywood drama, but — like Exorcist III — it springs one great lunge-out-of-an-unexpected-corner-of-the-frame jump scare.

The real nun in the movie is the heroine, played by a spirited Taissa Farmiga, and the dramatic weight falls on her able shoulders.

As good an all-out, non-camp horror movie as we’ve had lately.