Olly Richards

One of von Trier’s most confrontingly horrible films is also one of his weakest. A story about a man disguising his lack of worthwhile contribution with violent self-interest is guilty of every point it’s making.

It's Sarah Polley through and through: slightly too glum for its own good, but reeking of quality and feeling.

Maybe it’s fitting Playmobil: The Movie is old-fashioned, stiff and only suitable for those between the ages of four and ten, but it sure isn’t much fun.

The film is at its best when it’s sitting just with them, not doing much, not trying too hard to be eccentric; just shooting the breeze and being cheerfully weird.

The first film was so middle-of-the-road that most have probably forgotten it existed. Its sequel creates a more lasting impression, with vibrant animation and a wackadoodle sense of humour.

It’s lifted by some very convincing performances.

Bertrand Bonello’s sci-fi epic-cum-period-romance-cum-stalker-thriller is absolutely teeming with ideas. That they don’t all come together in an entirely convincing way doesn’t spoil the overall effect of something thought-provoking, very handsomely made, and appealingly weird.

Persevere through the sluggish first two acts and you'll be rewarded with a touching relationship perfectly acted by Lewis and Breslin.

It’s glossy and at times goofily funny, mostly thanks to Johnson’s subtle comic skills, but the novelty of this messy relationship is really beginning to wear off.

It’s almost churlish to complain that some of the carnage is too basically carnage-y, but at 169 minutes there’s a lot of it to sit through. That running time might test the casual fan, but for Wick devotees this character’s battle through assassin hell will be close to action-movie heaven.

Like its slack-jawed clones, The Island is full of energy and incredibly pretty but burdened with only the minimum of smarts.

A Hitchcockian Poltergeist meets Single White Female, it's exactly as confused as that sounds, but just as intriguing. Stewart shows she’s now one of the most interesting actresses of her generation.

Well above the standards of your average romantic comedy, it's funny, sexy and smart. It's just not smart enough to stick to its guns to the end.

It’s essentially, y’know, for kids, but the dedicated fairy tale fan will have tons of fun spotting all the references. Adams, meanwhile, gives one of the comedy performances of the year.

Even if you didn’t know what comes next, this story of the first days of the Obamas would still seduce as a sweet, smart romance.

Eastwood’s message that no good deed goes unpunished feels misplaced, but for the crash sequences and Hanks’ turn it’s worthwhile. But for goodness’ sake, don’t watch it on a plane.

Judged against previous form, this is not Pixar firing on all cylinders, lacking the sophisticated comedy we've come to expect. Judged against fare from other studios, however, it's a triumph.

Terrific performance alone can't mask the lack of originality.

This true-life tale takes some believing in the era of global warming (too much ice? Really?) but the sledgehammer emoting should let you know you're in a family drama.

Strong performances and direction make the most of a lightweight tale.

It’s extremely antic for the most part, covering a lack of real story with a lot of distracting quirk. Yet when Petit’s foot slips out onto a wire thousands of metres from the ground, it’s quietly mesmerising.

It's not on a gasp-inducing making-the-Statue-Of-Liberty-disappear level, but with its opulent presentation and confident storytelling, The Illusionist has the power to keep an audience rapt like a good old-fashioned card trick.

A few big laughs but weakly drawn characters mean a film that is enjoyable enough in the moment but then quickly forgotten.

It’s fun to take another turn with Derek and Hansel, but they probably don’t have another season in them.

Old friends and new voice talent will delight kids with a never-ending love for the most undemanding animation out there. A megabucks franchise drifts on.

The gleefully Gothic fingerprints of Guillermo del Toro are all over this zippy excursion into Mexico's myths and legends, although the gag-count falls quite a lot short of Pixar greatness.

A retrograde fantasy with the depth of a dressing-up box, but it’s spirited, genuinely funny and played to the hilt by an excellent cast.

Fast Five was a good example of how applying The Rock to a tired series could bring it back to life. G.I. Joe, by opting for self-seriousness instead of knowing daftness, has squandered its secret weapon.

This is a gentler, less confrontational Solondz. It makes you laugh, but probably won’t leave you reeling after. Some fans of his might consider that a disappointment, others might find it a relief.

Like every one of its songs, it makes a lot of noise about nothing much and cockily straddles awfulness and greatness. It's enormously entertaining nonsense.

Perhaps it’s fitting that this story about babies has the attention span and grasp of logic of a newborn.

This is actually a very middle-of-the-road movie.

Given the work lavished on every detail of the glorious backdrop, it’s a pity that the story happening in front of it is so familiar and safe.

A movie that while thin and silly, moves with such joyous speed that you almost want to throw your arms in the air and scream.

It may share a narrator with "March Of The Penguins" but this short documentary is happily more sturdily scientific.

As a take on a very difficult topic, made even more so by current events, this is admirable and handsomely executed, but it’s rather like walking through a museum exhibition: it’s packed with fascinating detail, but doesn’t let you close enough to touch it.

Like most kittens, it's not always perfectly behaved, but at least this new Puss adventure doesn't have you reaching for the cinematic spray bottle. And thank goodness the spin-off does nothing to neuter the charismatic cat's appeal.

Great houses, shame about the plotting. The sort of glossy nonsense you might happily half-watch on a lazy Sunday.

The usually distinctive filmmaker – Black Swan, The Wrestler, Mother! – is in unflashy form for this solid, starry but not very memorable thriller about one man’s very bad night.

A well told, beautifully acted drama that offers nothing new but a comforting level of familiarity and cosiness.

The young cast, which resembles a collection of Gerald Scarfe illustrations, acquits itself reasonably well, but is too ordinary to be heroic. And, once action is introduced into the mix, Barry Levinson'’s direction falters.

A small, strangely sweet tale well told. But this is all about Mol, who puts in a performance that gives her a very early lead on next year's Oscar race.

This is everything you might expect of a Baz Luhrmann biopic. It’s brash, loud, maximalist, and certainly never boring, but also keeps its subject at a distance, enthralled by his glamour not his soul.

Tonally a complete departure from the rest of the series, which is at once laudably brave and disappointingly unfunny.

A sturdy by-the-numbers legal drama that really belongs on the small screen.

If it were any more manic you’d have to put it on Ritalin.

Okay, so it's not exactly a groundbreaking advance from the team behind "Ice Age," but with its kaleidoscope of colour and heaps of humour, you'll be charmed.

If it’s surprisingly sweet-sounding subject matter for Albert Hughes’ first solo film, he treats it with respectful seriousness. It’s a family movie but one unafraid to show some very sharp teeth.

The horror-lite element gives it a boost, with Branagh’s direction conjuring up a few jumps, but this gently entertaining mystery could have used far more scares. If he’d gone the full leering Hammer Horror, rather than tastefully occult, this could have been a scream.

Heroes in a half-arsed shell.

A solid adaptation, even if its camp exuberance is a bit muted on the screen. It’s unlikely everybody will be talking about it, but its positivity is infectious.

All involved have done a solid job in executing what most fans likely want from a very belated Beverly Hills Cop sequel. This is not an action movie with the slickness or invention to take on any current blockbuster franchise. It’s cheerfully old-fashioned and easy. It feels like you should be popping open a VHS case to watch it.

It starts off very sprightly and witty and maintains a high giggle-count throughout.

It’s a film to see for the performances, which are faultless, but while it’s sometimes riveting this play has been awkwardly translated to screen.

A muddle.

There’s still plenty here to make you shiver, but in letting events out of the basement this sequel has also released much of the tension.

One of the sillier series entries in terms of plot, but still scary enough and funny enough to leave you hoping Ghostface might yet kill again.

There are almost endless holes you could pick in its logic and storytelling, but it gives you few reasons to want to. This Friday’s freakier, but it’s kind of… funner too.

Zosia Mamet is the major selling point here. In a film that’s lovely but unlikely to prove memorable, she shows she can carry a film with immense charm.

There’s not a lot of consequence to this bizarre meeting, or really the film, but as a character study of two men alone at the top, it’s both very funny and quietly astute.

As kiddie entertainment it works well, with simple humour and lots of action. But there's not a lot to appeal to any accompanying adults.

A delightful premise never fully comes to life in this sweet romcom, which is a real shame because it gets off to such a strong start.

A promising idea that never develops beyond that.

A cheerful comedy-drama with charm to spare.

If there's a criticism to be made, it's that the script doesn't push itself far enough with the moments in which it excels.

Macdonald's film is a noble stab at bringing Meg Rosoff's YA novel to the screen, which sees Ronan in typically watchable form.

In stripping Jack Ryan back to basics it’s lost some sophistication, but reinvigorated an action hero who’s unlike any other on offer and who absolutely earns his second — or rather fourth — shot.

Like the Minions, this instalment is barely distinguishable from any of the others, but it’s easy to be won over by its nutty joy and enthusiasm.

Farty, burpy, fall-y over fun tied to a pretty inconsequential plot. Your kids will explode with joy.

If this tiresome yarn is the ‘true’ story of one of Disney’s most popular villains then, please, give us colourful lies and happy ignorance.

If you’ve asked yourself why on earth there needs to be a movie about Troll dolls, this doesn’t really provide a strong answer, yet for all its awkwardness and fluff-brained logic, its enthusiasm is infectious.

A sequel that feels less necessary than willed into being, but that doesn’t mean it’s not pleasantly entertaining. There are more fluffy animals than in the first movie, more set-pieces and about the same number of laughs.

Anyone unfamiliar with or underwhelmed by the music of OutKast will find little in this thin piece of cinematic storytelling. Fans happy to luxuriate in its artistic indulgence, however, will be swept up in the weird, random, fantastic OutKastness of it all.

If you enjoy Gondry’s brand of homemade art direction then there’s plenty to delight early on, but it’s all wallpaper.

A step back from the last film in terms of ambition, this nevertheless continues the series’ chirpy, amiable mood. Nothing to be po-faced about here.

Ultimately, Hidalgo falls down due to a neglect of basic story elements -- anonymous villains, a hero with no clear goal other than money, love interests who sound alternately gin-sodden and lobotomised -- and after a brief burst of energy staggers home at a mild limp.

It’s not one of this summer’s strongest entries, but it’s fun to spend 90 minutes in this dog-eat-dick world.

Despite a second act lull, Connolly convinces in this cute and charming comedy.

Kosinski has again built a fantasy world that feels real to its core, but once more put most effort into the scenery and too little into the people.

It’s gory and mildly funny but its joke – that the bear is acting like a serial killer – is the only one the film has. It wears thin very quickly.

It suffers from ADD, but there's some terrific stuff in here. Leaving 15 minutes from the end and saving yourself a lumbering coda may improve enjoyment.

An ambitious documentary on one of the most intriguing, frightening phenomena of our time. The attempt to cover every aspect of a broad topic results in an intriguing if slightly disjointed watch.

Far from the best of Penn’s directing work but also not the worst (The Last Face is unlikely to lose that dubious crown). Dylan emerges the most triumphant Penn from a largely boring drama.

It’s impossible to overstate how much this film owes to Ryan Reynolds. Even if you don’t understand Pikachu’s world, everyone can understand a great joke superbly delivered.

If you’ve never seen Luther, don’t start here. You will be completely lost. Even dedicated fans are likely to be confused by this messy revamp of a story that once felt dangerous but is now merely daft.

Efron gambles with his image, but he knows when to up the star power. It’s perhaps fitting that the film falls flat when he, playing a killer who loved the spotlight, leaves the screen.

The dialogue is intelligent, but the humourlessness -- and the fact that most of the cast could use a good slap -- results less in involving drama and more in the viewer being held hostage in a 90-minute therapy session for the well-dressed and narcissistic.

It’s a promising idea that starts well, and although it starts to flounder by the end, Kunis and McKinnon do sterling work making sure it never completely runs out of energy.

As a chance to see the celebrated Broadway show with the original cast, this is a treat. As a re-interpretation of a classic, though, it's a disappointment.

A crushing disappointment for fans and a scuppered opportunity for a cinematic event. That the first book has been so mishandled doesn’t bode well for the (already greenlit) more complicated ones to come.

The animals are cute and Gleeson is extremely game. What keeps Peter from Paddington-style delight is a self-conscious need to distance itself from its source material.

High in gloss if not necessary insight, this is manna for fashion fans but a marginally slighter piece of work than The September Issue.

If you thought the first Trolls movie was fine, you’ll probably find this fine too. It completely lives up to the watchable mediocrity of its predecessor.

For all his ambition, Serkis can’t find the right tone for Mowgli and it becomes a very confused beast, neither fun enough for all ages to enjoy nor complex enough to be the visceral, grown-up thriller he nudges at.

The jokes are strong and delivered by a very talented cast, but the heart isn’t there. It’s easy to laugh, but hard to care.

With a 105-minute running time, making it practically a short in the MCU, it has just enough good stuff that it doesn’t outstay its welcome. But the intricate plotting that was once a Marvel selling point is now becoming a millstone around its muscular neck, keeping newcomers out instead of welcoming them in.

Strong subject matter and a superb cast are treated disappointingly with sledgehammer subtlety.