Nigel M Smith

As the proceedings grow increasingly more far-fetched, the story starts to feel thinner, any semblance of reality increasingly abandoned. What keeps Hunt for the Wilderpeople afloat are the full-blooded characters that populate it.

Unfortunately, on the whole, Schamus’ debut feels too self-serious to fully engage.

Ultimately, it tries a little too hard to wring those tears.

At its core, it’s really just a workplace love story that grows increasingly uninterested in its plucky heroine’s journey in favour of hitting familiar rom-com notes – and to give audiences another reason to love Bill Nighy.

Despite its setting and Korean American cast, Spa Night unfurls in a largely expected manner, with David struggling to embrace his identity because of his strict religious upbringing, while trying to make his family proud. He’s portrayed so opaquely that’s it’s difficult to connect with his dilemma.

Keough and Malone convey a palpable sense of yearning for one another during these sequences, but Kim and Bradley Rust Gray’s barebones script doesn’t match their efforts.

Hanks delivers an internal and sympathetic performance. Eastwood doesn’t burrow too deeply into his protagonist’s psyche, other than to visibly demonstrate that he’s haunted by the landing. Still, Hanks, who’s uncommonly, well, sullen, for much of the film, goes a long way to convey Sullenberger’s conflicted anguish.

The story The Walk tells is, admittedly, an unbelievable one, so it’s understandable Zemeckis should choose to leave subtlety at the door. Sadly, such an approach strips the film of tension, especially at the crucial moment.

It’s commendable that Perkins seems wholly uninterested in the tropes of the genre: there’s only one jump scare, hardly any gore and no final girl. The elusiveness of the narrative, however, grows weary fast.

The Transfiguration is a character study first and foremost, spending all of its time with Milo. Problem is, he’s so opaque that as a protagonist, he’s completely impenetrable.

Chastain single handedly prevents it all from veering off the rails by dominating Miss Sloane with her forceful presence. She grounds her heroine to ensure you’re with her.

As the violence escalates, an absurdist dose of humor is added to the mix, injecting the film with a distinctly modern sensibility that is welcome and does not let up.

Under the workmanlike direction of Mick Jackson (The Bodyguard), what should have been a rousing and ragingly topical crowdpleaser, instead feels more like a Lifetime movie.

The film plays like nirvana for Pee-wee fans.

If there was a strong enough story to latch the jokes on to, Keanu might have worked. As it stands, it reeks of a grossly underdeveloped sketch extended to feature length.

Cranston acts the hell out of the role, like he’s performing Macbeth in a room. Unfortunately his commitment isn’t enough to sell Wakefield as anything more than a hollow character study, with an unappealing tool at its core.

Patricia Rozema’s drama doesn’t burrow deep into its end of world scenario.

When you have two of today’s best working actors acting on a high-wire to do justice to two of the most recognisable figures of the 20th century, it’s best to keep the focus solely located on them.

Tom Tykwer’s adaptation is a meandering mess of half-baked storylines that amount to little. Hanks’s affable presence keeps it all afloat.

Unfortunately a slack screenplay and lack of focus holds the project back from being anything more than an actors’ showcase.

A harrowing subject for a film, then, but somehow Landesman – who also wrote the screenplay – never manages to turn it into a gripping movie.

A mawkish family comedy, intent to please, The Hollars plays like an extended sitcom.

Admirably cynical until it loses its way in the final stretch, The Ticket nevertheless maintains a provocative allure, bolstered by a fiercely committed performance from Dan Stevens.

It’s Holmes brazen performance that remains the chief drawing point in seeking out All We Had. She burrows deep under the skin of Rita, a woman firmly aware of her many flaws and tragically unable to address them.

Her two exceptional stars do their best to convey their animosity via simmering glances. But in the end, Curran’s muted approach does them no favors. Instead of being boldly subtle, Five Nights in Maine just comes off as evasive.

By the Sea’s uncompromising nature is its most admirable asset. It’s a vanity project that’s difficult to love, but alluring to unpack.

For all his faults as a narrative film-maker, Herzog can at least be counted on to keep his non-documentary excursions unpredictable.

Even as All I See Is You descends into soapy nonsense, it remains visually engaging.

The studio has managed to deliver a follow-up that’s even weaker than its predecessor. In crude terms: Alice’s second trip to Underland wasn’t worth the wait.