Nick Levine

The Moment is too protracted and tonally uneven to work as a great mockumentary, but it has plenty of meme-worthy moments that TikTok will lap up. If that sounds like faint praise, well, just remember it was enough to make Emerald Fennell’s Saltburn a sensation back in 2023.

There’s no denying this is a powerful portrait of grief driven by a shattering performance from Buckley.

Wicked: For Good doesn’t defy gravity like its predecessor but fans will want to hold space for a sequel with a very poignant payoff.

Despite stellar efforts from Farrell and Robbie, it all adds up to something not quite charming, not quite moving and not quite compelling. This film is less a big bold beautiful journey; more a mildly diverting pitstop.

Is there too much going on? Possibly, but Eddington is never dull – Aster commits fully to his grisly vision of a ruptured America where a sticky narrative is more important than the truth or any kind of moral high ground.

It’s heaps of fun watching Curtis chuck herself around the set in the name of slapstick as Lohan delivers the sort of poised performance she built her career on 20 years ago. Freakier Friday isn’t a flawless sequel but it does supply a satisfying nostalgia rush.

Buckle up and enjoy the ride, safe in the knowledge that the tyre talk never gets too overwhelming.

Watching the project as a whole is a bit like arriving at pre-drinks to find that someone has queued up 11 slightly same-y Miley Cyrus tracks in a row. Hardcore fans will be entranced; more casual admirers might want to wait until they all end up on YouTube.

Director Michael Pearce, who previously made 2021’s decent crime thriller Encounter starring Riz Ahmed, keeps the pace brisk but never really punches up the source material.

It all adds up to a superior Wes Anderson confection: the surface gleams with a retro sheen, but there’s enough going on underneath to leave a lasting impression.

Another Simple Favour has built up enough goodwill to keep you invested, thanks largely to game performances from Lively and co-star Anna Kendrick.

By the end, even the clunky-looking asterisk in the film’s title makes sense. Thunderbolts* doesn’t so much reinvent the wheel as remember what put the wheels on this bandwagon in the first place: an epic blend of thrills, spills and psychological ills. It’s the most fun the MCU’s been in years.

Marching Powder isn’t just about anti-woke banter: it also has plenty of affection for its characters, even if it doesn’t fully flesh them out. It’s punchy but never lands a killer emotional blow.

There’s an infectious warmth to proceedings that makes you stick with Mickey 17 (and 18) through thick and thin. This kooky curio is well worth seeking out.

It’s a rich character study that doesn’t sugarcoat the ageism Shelly faces, but also grants her a defiant sense of agency. Whatever you think of her choices, she’s lived life on her own terms.

Like many of Leigh’s best films, it prioritises authenticity and recognisable glimpses of emotion over a splashy narrative arc. That may make it frustrating for some viewers, but there’s no doubt that Leigh and his cast have created a sad, captivating, fascinating slice of everyday life.

Midas Man is so busy hitting the familiar beats of the Fab Four’s incredible rise that it never really burrows beneath Epstein’s skin.

This isn’t a perfect film, but it is a funny, fascinating one with terrific performances from Kidman – surely the bravest A-lister around – and Dickinson as an inscrutable wildcard. You’ll submit to Babygirl’s machinations willingly and thrillingly.

If this is a bookend to his incredible performing career, at least it’s a respectful and tender one.

By the end, you won’t quite be levitating off your seat but you’ll definitely be enchanted enough to stream the soundtrack on the way home. Funny, colourful and full of empathy for outsiders, this film really is the Shiz.

Nightbitch makes plenty of very valid points about traditional gender roles and the oppressive nature of new parenthood. But it never fully sinks its teeth into a meaty premise; it’s briefly ferocious where it could have been completely feral.

It’s horrifying in the moment and gnawingly haunting when you process it fully: a sickening satire of society’s obsession with youth and beauty.

It’s silly, giddy and a little bit disgusting – just what we want from Beetlejuice.

Awkwafina’s deadpan drollery dovetails neatly with Cena’s golden retriever energy and the climactic set-piece is genuinely exciting.

There’s something undeniably impressive about the whole enterprise, in which Lanthimos has found the perfect co-conspirators: Plemons’ ambiguous quality suits his opaque stories, while Stone’s charisma warms the edges of his chilly filmmaking. The result is a singular, freaky challenge that’s definitely worth accepting.

While there are glimmers of drama, there are also extended sections where this deliberately bewildering film gets a bit boring. Despite this, Sasquatch Sunset is worth seeking out if you have a taste for the absurd.

Sting is derivative but fitfully gripping. Crucially, it’s also good fun: with a main protagonist named Charlotte (lolz), there’s definitely a knowingness to proceedings.

The climactic setpiece isn’t quite an action spectacular, but it does feel tense and narratively satisfying.

This film was always going to face accusations of being exploitative – given the way Winehouse was scrutinised when she was alive – but the naysayers needn’t have worried. Taylor-Johnson’s film (particularly the ending) is impressively deft and delicate.

Like Afterlife, Frozen Empire ultimately succeeds because it’s so much fun to watch.

Because it takes too long to become truly gripping, it ends up overstaying its welcome during the last few big reveals. Still, there’s no denying it contains enough intrigue to launch the franchise that Vaughn is already planning.

Directed without restraint by Ridley Scott, it’s a bewildering blend of high fashion, high camp and high tragedy that’s chaotic but also wildly entertaining.

Wonka isn’t quite an immaculate confection, but it’s moreish enough to become a future festive favourite. You’ll want to tuck right in.

Thankfully, if you can suspend your disbelief, Heart Of Stone is plenty of fun and far slicker than a lot of recent Netflix content. It almost goes without saying that the ending leaves room for a potential franchise. And after two hours of near-constant japes and scrapes, you’d need a heart of stone – or at least a high entertainment threshold – not to think “Oh go on then, why the hell not?”

This feature-length documentary makes for affecting viewing because it tells the duo’s incredible success story through the lens of their rock-solid friendship.

As The Super Mario Bros. Movie progresses, it’s hobbled by a perfunctory plot and some lazy creative choices.

Creed III isn’t quite a knockout, but only a fool would come away questioning whether this seasoned slugger of a franchise has more rounds left in it. Bring on Creed IV.

This could easily have smacked of trying too hard, but Johnstone really seems to have pulled it off.

Lydia Tár isn’t a real person, but this riveting film about the corrupting effects of power and privilege will make you think she is. That’s partly because writer-director Todd Field has created a terrifyingly believable character and world that she presides over.

I Wanna Dance with Somebody isn’t as illuminating as it could be, but it still feels like a fitting tribute to a brave and complicated artist with a genuinely incredible gift.

Throughout, Guadagnino audaciously but successfully balances some gut-wrenchingly grim and gory scenes with moments of genuine tenderness.

Sheryl is brisk but pretty comprehensive.

Bros is a cut above most romcoms for one simple reason: it’s funnier.

The Girl with a Bracelet is a clever, relevant film which makes you question the way society expects young women to behave.

Though Lou is derivative and schematically plotted, it’s gripping enough to get away with it, thanks largely to Janney’s committed performance.

Honestly, this film is so terrible it makes the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy look like high art. The review’s lone star is for the location manager who criss-crossed Europe to find all the blandly luxurious pads that this soulless nonsense unfolds in.

As vampire movies go, this one doesn’t slay, but it has enough thrills, spills and playful charm not to feel like a grave mistake.

For a film about feats of next-level bravery, Thirteen Lives is a little too cautious to really soar.

Purple Hearts is crushingly predictable and never quite rings true, but it’s not completely hopeless.

Despite its flaws, George Michael Freedom Uncut ultimately succeeds because the man himself remains so compelling.

You won’t come away feeling as though Shania Twain has bared her soul, but you will have renewed respect for the talent, vision and hard work that made her an era-defining artist.

The Bob’s Burgers Movie is substantial enough to justify its 102-minute runtime and manages to supersize the show’s appealing recipe without diluting its flavour. It’s a meaty treat that fans and newcomers alike can devour with relish.

You won’t leave a-ha: The Movie wanting to hang out in the band’s dressing room, but you will come away with a renewed appreciation for the intense and sensitive men who made melancholy pop gems like ‘The Sun Always Shines On TV’ and ‘Hunting High And Low’. Glorious as it is, there’s a lot more to this band than ‘Take On Me’.

In a way, it’s a shame the film ends with a basic boilerplate listing Lopez’s record sales, box office receipts and social media following. By this point, Halftime has done more than enough to show us that its subject is very much the real deal.

Don’t Make Me Go is a strange beast: a film that feels a little predictable until it snaps and stretches credulity to the limit. Thankfully, Cho and Isaac’s affecting performances are a lot more nuanced than the writing.

It’s hampered by an execution that’s flat, fussy and self-conscious. Only the most hopeless romantic will be able to invest in these characters for very long.

The film’s emotional beats don’t hit as hard as its musical ones.

It all adds up to a film that’s brave, fascinating, grim and irreverent: in other words, vintage Verhoeven.

Showalter’s film gives Bakker a sentimental but effective final act, but never fully explains why this flawed but enormously warm human being became an unlikely icon.

Because of this humanity vacuum, the film’s emotional beats feel strained and awkward; often, Levy relies too heavily on Rob Simonsen’s mawkish score to tell us to feel something. The result: an inoffensive but forgettable sci-fi trifle that probably isn’t worth anyone’s precious time.