Nigel M Smith

As comeback projects go, Blood Father is stellar. It’s a wonder Quentin Tarantino, the king of career resurrection, didn’t get to Gibson first. The actors completely tears into the role of Link, a battered and disgruntled ex-con. Richet matches him, delivering a muscular and deliriously entertaining B-movie that is sure to play like gangbusters with genre aficionados.

His fly on the wall approach never feels exploitative – in instances, it yields surprising empathy. In spite of his characters’ actions, Minervini miraculously captures traces of profound humanity.

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.

Yes, the story has the makings of a Lifetime movie; what grounds it are the terrific performances and Heder’s rich direction and screenplay.

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.

Though hats are respectfully doffed, this is a four-woman show, deftly managed to allow all the leads – McCarthy, Kristen Wiig, Kate McKinnon and Leslie Jones – a chance to showcase their own distinct brands of comedy.

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.

For a directorial debut, Ross’s film is admirably odd and hard to pin down.

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.

A film that should feel urgent and of its time, but instead is rendered cliched and dull by Sollet’s amateurish handling of the material.

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.

Pixels is a casually sexist, awkwardly structured, bro-centric comedy, starring some of Sandler’s buddies. The only difference this time is that state-of-the-art CGI has been added to the mix.

As well as its plot being eerily similar to that of Demolition, it’s just as misguided.