Mark Beaumont

The core Eno that emerges is one dedicated to the deconstruction of music and its making at a fundamental level, then recreating it in amorphous terms: feeling, landscape, peripheral perception, belonging.

Under Paris, then is a cheesy yet canny creature feature romp with gritty Gallic bite, taking itself – enjoyably – rather more seriously than it deserves.

The Beach Boys makes up for its narrative familiarity by exploring some of the lesser-known behind-the-scenes tidbits.

Wheatley proves himself an instant master of CGI monster movie mayhem here, but by piling it on so relentlessly thick he all but admits defeat in his initial attempts to give the franchise any believable depths.

There are as many ‘Hallelujah’ stories as people who’ve listened to it, of course, but in pinpointing a precious few, Hallelujah… does a fine job of unravelling just some of the song’s multitudes.

A career of such breadth and note deserves deep exploration, certainly, but so much of the greatness of Morricone’s music speaks for itself that exposing the workings rarely enhances the piece.

Top Gun: Maverick does exactly what its intended audience wants it to do – pile on the airborne thrills and steely military heroics without knotting things up with too much moralising or complex character development.

If we’re to understand Hoon’s life through his footage, it’s as a victim of a lifestyle that amplifies not just the sounds in your head but the problems at your core.

The electricity effects are way too cheap, but otherwise Studio 666 would sweep up the Palm D’Gore at any horror flick festival with an ounce of rock ’n’ roll in its fiend-infested soul.

Gradually, Fine’s sensitive, softly-softly approach works small wonders.

There may not be a more punk rock bit of film on earth than George being told the police were on the roof to shut them down, and casually turning his amp back on. For that alone, for all its whitewashing and line-toeing, Let It Be remains a staggering watch. [2024 Restored Version]