Matthew Leyland

“I’m always going to be inside your head,” growls Crowe. Maybe not, but this fast, brutal chase-fest is trashy fun while it lasts.

A solid if unexceptional sea movie whose brevity is welcome after the stodgy likes of "Midway." Hanks keeps the propellers churning.

Set pieces play saviour in Netflix and Chris Hemworth's generic kidnap thriller.

The sci-fi settings – dystopian grit-scape, rainbow-coloured cosmos – are dazzlers; the satire is playful not snarky; and as you’d expect, several unexpected cameos. It doesn’t sweat too hard to appease both kids and adults – the latter’s pain much felt in a scene you might describe as product mis-placement.

Overlong, but Momoa’s charisma, plus first-class fishy FX, keep it afloat.

What Black’s movie really has going for it is pace. It starts with a crash, followed swiftly by a bang and vast swathes of wallop. The relentlessness doesn’t allow you any time to catch a yawn, but it’s also not too conducive to tension or suspense.

Vexingly, Ferrell flaunts his daft genius just enough to avert an entirely shite Christmas.

When it’s not being shrill, obvious or awkwardly wistful, Nigel Calendar Girls Cole’s comedy is quite funny.

Curveballs are rare in this pop-umentary on Earth’s biggest boyband; but with lengthy gig clips, lots of cute mucking-about (segways, disguises, hiding in wheelie bins) and Harry’s shirt off within the first 10 minutes, Directioners won’t be disappointed.

Less abrasive than Part II, but lacking any of Part I's freshness, this is the most lacklustre return-to-Vegas, trilogy-closing caper since "Ocean's Thirteen."

Carell and Carrey shine like sequinned suits in a comedy that allows them endless fun with the dressing-up box. More narrative verve and it could’ve been The Prestige in a big-cat wig.