Neil Smith

An only moderately entertaining threequel that assumes a double dose of Carell will make up for missing Minions. It doesn’t.

Pixar’s least essential franchise gets back on track with a polished but disposable threequel.

Madame Bovary meets Thérèse Raquin with a splash of Lady Chatterley in a pared-down drama that packs a real punch.

Irish politics made accessible with the help of a playful script, two fine performances and 11 years of hindsight.

Sabine Krayenbühl and Zeva Oelbaum’s elegant mix of voiceover, archive footage and talking heads lets “the female Lawrence of Arabia” largely speak for herself, illuminating the pivotal role she played in shaping today’s Middle East.

A rib-tickling homage to the gumshoe shows of yesteryear, with an endearingly daffy mindset.

Chastain stalks the corridors of power with steely aplomb in Madden’s coolly compelling incursion into House of Cards territory.

A classy ensemble (Charlotte Rampling, Harriet Walter) supports Jim Broadbent’s amusingly tetchy lead, while youthful flashbacks evoke a mood of romantic yearning.

André Øvredal (Troll Hunter) ruthlessly ratchets the tension – with no little assistance from Olwen Kelly, conveying menace without moving a muscle.

Denzel Washington and Viola Davis excel in a well-crafted drama that’s sure to bring the late August Wilson’s words to a much wider audience.

An entertaining, if frenetic, vehicle for Arnett’s Bale-inspired Bats that packs plenty of laughs.

Portman’s Oscar-worthy work crowns an unconventional study of an icon, while Mica Levi’s score is sublime.

This is a Shyamalan movie through and through. And it’s his best in some time, thanks to a magnetic McAvoy.

A-list sad-faces abound in a film where absurd concept is rivalled only by banal execution.

Rob Lowe provides colour as a Southern-accented sleazeball, while the Free Willy finale has enough vehicular mayhem to excuse its dodgy FX.

Best of all...is the mini-animation fashioned out of Suskind’s Walt-inspired scribblings.

Clearly no stranger to John Hughes movies, writer-director Kelly Fremon Craig brings a spiky wit and a warm-hearted, nerd-friendly finale to a comedy that wants for nothing but a little substance.

For all his noble intentions, though, Crocodile Gennadiy sure loves the limelight, forcing us to speculate whether he works for God’s glory or his own.

It’s too brief to convey the intellect and almost mystical ability that underpin Carlsen’s success.

Zootropolis is a witty, creative and entertaining romp with literally endless sequel potential and the biggest collection of four-legged critters this side of Noah.

Early promise proves misleading in a sequel that should be far better than The Da Vinci Code than it actually is.

As crude as the oil it revolves around, Deepwater provides combustible entertainment without leaving the shallows.

A road movie with heart, humour and a lead prepared to give his youthful co-stars their share of the limelight.

There’s an undeniable charm here that, allied with the picturesque locations, results in a nostalgic throwback to a gentler age.

Those with fond memories of a gentler era of boy-and-his-insert-critter-here heartwarmers are bound to welcome Dragon’s old-fashioned vibe. But it still feels almost perverse to place all of Weta’s hi-tech wizardry at the disposal of a film so stubbornly, studiously lo-fi.

For all its attempts to expand the original’s ensemble and embellish its themes, Dory is cod in batter beside Nemo’s smoked salmon. But still tasty.

Bobin’s attempt to fill Tim Burton’s shoes generates a lively but ersatz sequel that only truly ticks when Baron Cohen and Bonham Carter are around.

Bloodthirsty, derivative and xenophobic nonsense.

The strange thing about Grimsby is that it works much better as a Bond-spoofing actioner than it does as a politically incorrect rib-tickler.

A prize-winning page-turner becomes a moving, harrowing and redemptive drama about the ties that bind a mother to her child. Be warned: one box of tissues may not be enough.

It doesn’t exactly soar and the lack of levity grates, yet the Spooks movie still delivers some appealingly old-school mayhem.

Though not as dramatically rich or emotionally compelling as Skyfall, Spectre still ranks as a sleek, pulse-pounding if slightly overlong entertainment.

Part war story, part endurance test, this harrowing portrait of a young boy’s loss of innocence is gripping, gruelling, grown-up fare. That said, some judicious trimming wouldn’t have hurt.

A few damp squibs aside, Bird’s sensibilities make for the most animated Mission to date. Don’t see in IMAX if you’re a vertigo sufferer, though.

The breakout stars of the Despicable Me franchise seize the spotlight in an enjoyably demented off-shoot that is guaranteed to send their young fans bananas.

Ambitiously staged and impressively shot, Monsters: Dark Continent makes a bold stab at mounting a franchise but lacks the vision and surprise of its predecessor.

This is not, we’d wager, the film its director intended. Yet it’s worth watching, if only to see Caine and Kingsley together for the first time in 25 years.

Overlords has its share of clunky moments yet nonetheless proves, like Monsters before it, what can be achieved when you’re short of cash but rich in imagination.

Cooper’s performance grounds a solid, authentic drama – Eastwood’s best since Letters From Iwo Jima – that is less about one single field of combat than the price of war itself.

The most inventive sequence has Larry and Teddy plunge into an MC Escher painting, an interlude so dazzling you can almost overlook the weeing monkey.

Liam Neeson cuts a rather sorry figure in what’s less a final flourish for the series than a prolonged death rattle.

One great British artist pays tribute to another in a lengthy but rewarding homage that boasts a titanic turn at its centre. Rarely has watching paint dry been so fascinating.

It’s left to the leads to keep us engaged, a tall order given their film’s old-fashioned, fusty feel.

A feel-good charmer with an important message, Pride will have you clutching your sides, wiping your eyes and punching the air in triumph.

A serious subject receives a simplistic treatment in an ill-conceived thriller in which the emotive (and timely) issue of honour killings becomes just another plot device.

Director Arnaud des Pallières lends a bleak austerity to the story, but with only one murky battle scene to quicken the blood it’s hardly a recipe for unbridled excitement.

Just as bloody yet much more conventional, 300 #2 offers splashy thrills aplenty but fails to make a watertight case for its own existence. Green, however, ensures it stays afloat.

A solid outing for a re-Bourne hero that could, with a few key tweaks, generate another round of vehicles for the Clancy cash cow.

Jan Ole Gerster’s deceptively slender character study has a complex undertow, subtly linking its wallflower anti-hero’s acceptance of his failings with his country’s wider atonement for its World War II past.

This classy adap of a much-garlanded stage play will appeal to discerning audiences who can tolerate unpleasant characters with potty mouths if they're played by Oscar winners.

Fear falls short of fantastic yet it’s a decent effort that, like Pegg’s beard, proves to be something of a grower.

Twists pile as high as corpses before an overcooked ending sends things spiraling into silliness.

The results – achieved through small cameras clipped to nets, masts and the crew – will hook some and induce seasickness in others.

Though it’s good to see Michelle Pfeiffer married to the mob again, she alone can’t redeem a lumbering farce that takes an unpleasantly sadistic glee in violence, murder and intimidation.

Marvel’s man with the mallet does all that’s required of him in a breakneck sequel that’s never dark for long. Next time, though, we’ll have more Loki and fewer elves.

Potts does the singing himself, but that doesn’t stop Justin Zackham’s (The Big Wedding) contrived script from sounding bum notes throughout.

Green fashions a slow-burn charmer that’s a million miles from Pineapple Express in tone, pace and content. But just like that film, the odd couple interplay is beautifully judged.

Squeezing every drop of tension from wet-ink recent history, Phillips only falters when making its protagonists mouthpieces in a broader geopolitical debate. Otherwise, it’s full steam ahead to the Oscars.

Fun when Jones is around, dull when he's not, it's all just a little bit of history repeating.

Longer than OHF and just as daft, WHD makes for a more entertaining watch before succumbing to the same bombastic overkill.

Washington and Wahlberg are an effective double act in an intermittently exciting thriller with more twists than it needs. We’d love to see them partnered again, though perhaps as characters.

Neatly juxtaposes the beauty of the landscape with the enmities it engenders.

The final showdown whisks up the requisite excitement, but the open-ended coda feels like an optimistic throw of the dice from the franchise showing meagre signs of Harry Potter longevity.

It’s the same sappy drivel as before.

Can’t decide if it’s a broad farce or a poignant portrait. Small wonder then, that it falls short on both counts, failing to earn either Bridesmaids-sized laughs or nods of recognition.

Charming, poignant and often very funny, Baumbach and Gerwig’s latest collaboration is a joyous portrait of an unformed personality that should strike chords of recognition in all who watch it.

It’s a step up from the garbled silliness of Wolverine’s first solo outing. Unlike Origins, the storytelling is more sharply focused here, ignited by flashes of stylised superheroism.

Believably charts a girl’s coming of age but is eventually capsized by lurid melodrama.

Pixar falls back on the tried and tested in an entertaining caper that will be a surefire kid pleaser this summer. Old favourites are always welcome, but it would have been nice to see some more new ideas too.

Veteran French actor Bouquet brings a lifetime of experience to his arthritic old master, though, while the frequently unclad Theret captivates and exasperates in equal measure.

Jaden Smith takes centre stage in a futuristic rites of passager that plays like an extended episode of The Twilight Zone. Although "Oblivion" narrowly remains this summer’s better ruined-Earth actioner.

James DeMonaco’s blood-splattered thriller begins well before expiring slowly from multiple improbabilities.

The Big Wedding isn’t telling a story so much as selling a lifestyle – one that, rather like Heigl’s morning sickness, makes you want to vomit.

Jordan’s apparent resolve to make an anti-Twilight unfortunately results in a movie that, if not for a fistful of moments of shock, style and excess, would be as drained of colour and tension as Ronan’s victims are of hemoglobin.

That every jibe lands woefully wide is no surprise, though we’ll give leading lady Ashley Tisdale credit for giving her all to a film that mercifully won’t be around long enough to do any lasting damage to her post-High School Musical career.

An expertly calibrated drama confirming Marsh’s status as one of Britain’s most formidable filmmakers.

The leads make sweet music in an affecting four-piece that, if not note perfect, plays well to their individual strengths. A marked improvement overall on this year’s other Quartet.

The doltish, messy and frequently incoherent result bears all the hallmarks of a botched and compromised endeavour.

A lavishly mounted re-telling that, for all its good intentions and visual wonders, can’t help seeming surplus to requirements.

As much as Nicholas Jarecki’s debut feature simmers, it never quite boils.

“That was exciting!” says Willis after he and Courtney survive a 20-storey leap through a plate glass window. “Want to go again?” Frankly, Bruce, we’re fine to leave it here.

Bickering turns to bonding over the course of a predictable affair that only comes to life during a Texan steak-eating contest that has Babs ingest a mountain of meat.

“We have to find a product that’s appealing to people!” says Garcia Bernal at one point. And that’s just what Larraín’s created with this Latin spin on "Mad Men."

Breathlessly tense, thrillingly orchestrated and intellectually complex, this damn fine piece of rigorous, meticulous filmmaking enhances Kathryn Bigelow's status as one of her generation's most accomplished directors.

As cozy as a mug of Horlicks inside an electric blanket, Hoffman's film couldn't offend if it tried. Age, however, has yet to wither its veterans' undimmed star appeal.

Stirring and striking, Hooper's epic musical won't be wanting for awards and plaudits. Danny Cohen's cinematography is stunning and Hathaway's Oscar is guaranteed.

Forceful and arresting, Ayer's follow-up to "Harsh Times" and "Street Kings" sees him confidently playing to his strengths.

Saluting both America's national pastime and its oldest working icon, Curve is a solid heart-tugger that plays with a straight bat when it comes to plot, character and message.

The Daniel Craig era comes of age with a ballsy Bond that takes brave chances and bold risks. Guess what? Turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks.

Sadly, any hopes Mark Tonderai's US follow-up to 2008's "Hush" could have some "Cabin In The Woods"-style surprises up its sleeve are swiftly dashed as its talented lead is reduced to being just another scantily clad babe getting stalked by a psycho.

"What are you going to do?" wails Maggie. "What I do best!" growls Liam. Yet while it's fun to watch him take out the Eurotrash, we've seen him do it better.

Nods to "Hostel" and "Glengarry Glen Ross" make for a cine-literate affair further buffered by a smart cameo from erstwhile Brat Packer Andrew McCarthy.

Pimped, primped and dressed to the nines, Joe Wright's Tols-toy story looks the business. Like a disappointing Christmas present, though, the pleasure quickly evaporates once you remove the shiny paper.

Affection for the characters will bring fans in. But many will leave wishing the makers of one of the most enjoyable programmes of recent years had left well enough alone.

"I'm getting sick of this!" says Sigourney during one of Cold Light's many shoot-outs. Those tempted to give it the benefit of the doubt will swiftly reach the same conclusion.

It's perfectly possible to like the title character of Lauren Greenfield's documentary – Jackie Siegel – while detesting everything she represents: grotesque financial inequality, jaw-dropping ignorance and appalling bad taste.

Populist fare from across the channel that will amply repay those ready to put the time in. The scenery, meanwhile, makes you want to run out and buy a timeshare.

Assured if not inspired, Legacy keeps the Bourne engine ticking over without reaching top gear. The action's accomplished and Renner's fine. Without Matt Damon, however, it feels like a placeholder.