There are moments of real wonder and delight and Quentin Blake's original illustrations are occasionally glimpsed in the set ups. This isn't an epic of visual wizardry and there's zero irony or clever wit. Rather, Spielberg's latest is an old-fashioned children's tale told simply and with plenty of heart.

Eisenberg avoids, for the most part, doing a Woody Allen impersonation, but his bumbling guilelessness is wearing and Stewart seems out of place, unable to ever quite get over being Kristen Stewart in a Woody Allen movie. In fact, both young leads seem nervous to have been invited and often appear simply pleased to be there.

Plá's film is a caustic, genuine swipe at a selfish and insincere society which is content to make money from the suffering of ordinary people.

Captain America is simply awful. It is another hour and a half of prologue to the film people are apparently waiting for - The Avengers.

Bad Neighbours 2 is a smart and worthy continuation of this comedic battle of the age-groups with a cracking takedown of "super rape-y" frat boy culture, where every themed party is 'bros and hoes', and makes a stand for female empowerment, all the while serving up belly laughs, rehashed-but-still-brilliant airbag gags and feminist-inspired gross-out acts.

Taken as a transient, high-paced and familiar rock 'em, sock' em kind of film, it packs quite a punch.

Even with many of the original voice cast involved it's a tired effort that sadly - and it really is sad - doesn't live up to expectations.

The Wait consistently defies common sense in order to sustain the thin narrative.

A poignant study of gender politics enshrined within an anthropologically fascinating drama.

There's a certain bloatedness to much of the first half, while the film in general lacks the balance of humour to hard-hitting found in Shane Black's superb Iron Man 3 and/or Whedon's two Avengers outings.

There's no doubt that the people that Fox singles out are worthy of his cameras attention, but it doesn't equate to a coherent feature film as much as an enormously wasted opportunity.

Wedding Doll may be a small film, but it's deftly executed and built on two remarkable leading performances.

While there is the odd bum note, The Jungle Book is an immersive, visually breathtaking family adventure and a welcome addition to their new spate of live-action reimaginings.

The slow burn lead-up may not be to all tastes, but if you can tune in to its broadcast frequency Midnight Special will shine its light on you too.

The dénouement when it comes doubles down on the madness and 11 Minutes is never boring, but neither is it quite as revolutionary as it thinks it is.

Husson sketches teenage ennui well, and crafts complicated and watchable characters around which to base the core of her drama. The slip-up comes in a final act that bows out of the previously constructed conflict in disappointingly obvious fashion.

In many ways this is an adult Frozen with Gothic sensibilities by way of The Lord Of The Rings, making for a derivative pastiche of the past two decades' cinematic fantasy offerings.

The stakes are upped and character count doubled, but this doesn't mean attention to detail is spared. The visuals are sublime with different animation styles used to tell different stories.

Everything looks incredible, but the players are all just ciphers for ideas that Snyder lacks the wherewithal to execute.

As with all of Farhadi's films there's a frailty behind his characters, with their insecurities and moral dilemmas bubbling to the surface as the director slowly raises the temperature in this pressure cooker of domestic strife. Nervous editing and sinuous cinematography also give the impression that Farhadi is choreographing his stars rather than directing them.

As this is only inspired by the real events, there are perhaps one too many threads neatly tied into a bow, but all of them work in concert with the main event.

For much of its brisk eighty-two minutes running time, Emelie (2015) is a devilishly good thriller of notably transgressive bent, giving the slasher and home invasion formats a rare matriarchal focus.

When everything comes full circle, Marguerite is an enjoyable comedy with hints of dark satire and tangy melodrama.

Sweet Red Bean Paste is a modest film which seeks profundity in the detail of life.

Grimsby fails in its satirical mission due to a hodgepodge of generic action and ill-advised comedy.

The Legend of Barney Thomson has a few redeeming features scattered throughout, but for Carlyle it's much too bland and undefined.

Although Mavis! doesn't quite have the same scope as the extraordinary vocal range of its magnetic, all-round wonderful subject, her zest for life, exuberance and good nature have clearly rubbed off on Edwards and it's likely they will on audiences too.

Triple 9 becomes a victim of its own inane script. All the usual cop tropes are there - and that's part of the problem. Rarely does screenwriter Matt Cook throw anything at the page that hasn't been done better elsewhere.

A fluent, confident and deeply felt work by an astute chronicler of life, Things to Come considers the fragility of ideas when exposed to the eroding force of time in beautifully humane fashion.

For a film that vocally questions convention, it's perhaps a shame that Miller and co. played it so safe with a fairly cookie-cutter origin story, but it's really just there to give Reynolds ammunition to riff on. Whether the studio might be willing to push the character further into the leftfield in the future will depend on whether Deadpool warrants sequels.

Nina Forever is a brilliant, intelligent and emotionally rewarding debut feature.

The Hateful Eight is easily Tarantino's most fantastic film in terms of its visuals, its period detail and its award-worthy score, but it suffers from the director's common pitfalls while lacking the verve that so often carries him through.

As one voyage turns to two, three and then four, Ice and the Sky feels increasingly formulaic in structure; however, it remains a thorough and fitting tribute to an extraordinarily dedicated and humble individual with an "incontestable message".

Though there's an awful lot to be admired - not least an enormously impressive soundscape - The Revenant ultimately lacks the nerve-jangling thrills or the spiritual resonance that it strives for.

The languorous pacing - particularly in the middle section - may lessen the impact on audiences somewhat, and the two-hour runtime seems a little much, but this is important, harrowing and deeply heartfelt lament that deserves to be seen and most definitely heard.

It's a banana flambé with extra rum that brazenly throws together folksy storytelling, arch soap opera melodrama and a typically eccentric cast into a golden Hollywood crack at the American Dream.

Touching sensitive nerves a little tentatively when a firm prod would have been preferable, Bolshoi Babylon dances around some of the harder issues at hand, remaining inquisitive rather than intrusive and asking more question than it answers

A deliberate almost-thriller that provokes many questions, but leaves answers equivocally out of focus right through to its conclusion.

Drunk on the visual majesty of Rome, just as Fellini once was, this is arthouse cinema at its most effortlessly entrancing, with life and art blending into one magnificent whole.

The film is nothing but a clumsy constructed yarn with a final scene/shot so cheap and misguided it sums up Keating's clunker with aplomb.

This is a brilliantly contained and sublimely ridiculous send-up of competitive male egos from a refreshing female perspective.

It's impossible not to be sucked into, but it's equally impossible not to imagine how much more significant No Home Movie might have been.

Sherpa tells of a contemporary act of defiance which would undoubtedly bring a characteristic grin to the face of the forefather of modern climbing.

Despite the best efforts of the filmmakers, In the Heart of the Sea is a few knots away from being the transformative cinema experience intended.

Both tender and hilarious, Sisters is a raucous romp and complete catnip for fans of Fey and Poehler.

Directed by Sean Anders, the film goes out of its way to contrive its central masculinity crises in ways that quickly settle for lame, lowest common denominator jokes.

The Force Awakens barrels back into Lucas' 'lived-in' universe with inextinguishable energy and boundless joie de vivre.

The individual tales meanings are obscured by wavering tone and formal gymnastics.

Arabian Nights may frustrate and enervate, but with hindsight these blemishes fade into a gleaming collage.

Gomes has created something truly unique and remarkable; a rally cry against the powers that have choked the fire out of his country and a love song to those he sees rekindling the flame. Its constituent parts may not be perfect, but what a stunning whole.

Hard to Be a God is a cinematic behemoth, an unshakable monochrome nightmare of squelching bodily discharges that inhabits a world so noxious you can almost smell the pungent deterioration of humanity as it spews forth from the screen.

The Club is an enthralling parable that's calibrated to shock and amuse in equal measure.

Dark Horse is a relentlessly pleasing film that has all the satisfying hallmarks of a Rocky-like underdog tale with the added value of being true. While one suspects a feel-good studio adaptation won't be far off, the real story is a worthwhile bet.

Brilliant and moving stuff; another hit for Abrahamson.

Adopting a laid-back, effortlessly charming approach from the start, Moomins on the Riviera drifts through its short but sweet run time at a welcome pace.

The aesthetic, tone and performances result in a package that sits alongside similar Hollywood fare comfortably. However, in an industry that demands even the most famous spies to try something different, Nalluri's film never stands out.

The Good Dinosaur is up there with Toy Story in terms of its technical achievement and for providing an equally heart-touching, emotional tale.

With Catching Fire, director Lawrence certainly isn't afraid to bide his time and build anticipation for the truly spectacular (and tropical-tinged) Quarter Quell, patiently reestablishing crucial relationships for maximum dramatic pay-off.

The Hunger Games looks poised to usher in a brand new hit franchise and deserves all the credit it gets for its confrontational subject matter, delicately-orchestrated fight sequences and sci-fi sensibilities. For teen audiences, films don't get much darker - or smarter - than this.

The deft and highly emotive handling of his condition and the wider ramifications of his story make The Dark Horse a lot more than merely the against-the-odds chess story that it may initially appear to be.

Poetic realism for a digital age, Tangerine also shares a lot of qualities with the cinema of Mike Leigh and Ken Loach. There's no cheap manipulation here and Baker's characters never come across as victims.

The brutalisation of three female characters is horrific, but it would be a presumptuous leap to suggest the film itself flexes a misogynistic creed. Such assertions would woefully misconstrue Bakhia's thematic subtext, which is an examination and comment on the male mind warped by patriarchal thinking and a manipulative form of self-exculpation/cowardice.

Skyfall drips in the legacy of Bond, standing tall as an action-packed swansong to Britain's best loved hero of recent years, whilst also showing a great deal of affection for the decades of movies that have come before.

In the genuinely shocking and surprising third act, it wades deep into the moral shades of grey at the story's core and comes out the other side with no easy solution.

Seidl is a filmmaker of both talent and merit, but the blatant manipulation of his subjects and the nakedness of his own intentions and dribbling fascination make In the Basement irrelevant as a comment on Austrian society as a whole, and only passingly interesting as an unsurprising picture of what some very odd people do in the privacy of their own homes.

You may have casually leafed through one of the photographer's books in the past, or even visited a gallery of this work, but this documentary is a must-see for anyone who has ever expressed an interest in this fascinating figure (and for those keen to witness what life is like on the other side of the lens).

Hotel Transylvania 2, much like its predecessor, never aims too high, so the fact that it comes as such a pleasant surprise makes it all the more entertaining.

Even at a hefty 140 minutes, Bridge of Spies maintains a solid pace. Spielberg's mise-en-scène and the streamlined editing of long-time collaborator Michael Kahn are tremendous.

Like Skyfall, Spectre is loaded with allusions to the previous films in the franchise, undoubtedly providing much glee for Bond fans. The nods, quips, and general formula that audiences have come to know soon becomes weary and tiring, however.

It's a rancid cocktail of misogyny, homophobia, and much more besides, that never convinces as scathing satire as much as back-slapping celebration.

Crimson Peak is locked in by a somnambulist, formulaic vibe and comes off as contented to go through Gothic 101 motions without recourse to reinvention or refreshing vigour.

Ixcanul may struggle to tackle the larger issue it posits but well represents the lives and rituals of the marginalised community it seeks to give a voice.

Although not quite the bounty of its title, The Treasure rewards the patient viewer with a quietly enchanting drama.

For all its storytelling shortcomings, The Walk is a must-see for its perilous, vertiginous, sweaty-palmed finale and its reminder that the Twin Towers can be remembered for much more than 9/11.

Whatever you take from Hitchcock/Truffaut one thing is for sure: you'll be reaching for a copy of the book and a box set of thrillers at your earliest convenience.

Its aspirations to high-end production values and the inventive use of urban cityscapes filmed from carefully selected futuristic angles are all very well, but it could have done with something a little looser, more punk, more grimy, more stoned.

By utilising a Herzogian blend of existentialist narration with the addition of numerous well-structured interviews (both academic and candid), Guzmán opens up the floor - and skies - to a frank and painfully honest discourse on Chile's past, present and future.

Inhabiting the space between fact and fiction, where repressed memories often seek refuge, The Pearl Button weaves a fascinating, yet traumatic route through Chile's recent history.

If Northern Soul loses its way a little as the duo's friendship starts to unravel, with Constantine working in some unwelcome and unnecessary melodrama, this is a minor blip in what is an otherwise joyous and air-punching affair.

Jason Lei Howden's directorial debut is primed for unalloyed genre thrills, making you laugh until your sides hurt and subverting the rom-zom-com format.

The Whispering Star may not be Sono at his most assertive - it certainly suffers in its middle section from the lack of thrust - but its imbued with tremendous resonance.

Through this absorbing, sometimes disturbing documentary, Spender reveals much about Italy's underworld, as well as the people's passion for spectacle, their machismo, pride and their rivalry.

All of this is intoned with such a humourless sense of self-importance that anyone who genuinely loves their music (such as this reviewer who [full disclosure] would rate Funeral and Neon Bible as two of the best albums of recent years) finds themselves alternately stuffing their fingers in their ears or, when it gets too excruciating, their elbows.

The thoughtfulness of Plummer's performance is not matched by a script that forgets human logic in favour of narrative tricksiness that ultimately undermines the initially intriguing premise.

An earnest, forensic examination into the slaying of the Israeli Prime Minister.

Asbæk is towering as Claus, never less than believable as the leader of his platoon, and standout as he comes to terms with the cracks in his own story.

Although the narrative risks becoming arbitrarily episodic towards the end, Neon Bull is a genuine celebration of its characters and their grounded physical life as well as their obstinate ability to dream.

While there is hardship and anguish, Davies' deliberate and treatment of the source material ultimately lessens the dramatic impact even while it retains its splendour.

Berg's Little Girl Blue inevitably concentrates on the tragic parabola of the life without fully getting to the heart of the art.

The visuals are undeniably impressive at times, as Henry parkours around the city or during a particularly tense shoot-out, but they also struggle with inevitable motion sickness of the frenetic handheld camerawork.

Francofonia is a chatty and occasionally brilliant rumination on art, history and death.

The Forbidden Room (2015) is Maddin's aesthetic nearing critical mass, a whimsical, genre-spanning opus that demonstrates the totality of his enigmatic style.

There is something of Scorsese to this rise and fall of a criminal family and Trapero crams The Clan with life.

The Childhood of a Leader is a dark, enigmatic piece of work that hovers between visionary greatness and petty domestic triviality. Corbet's inaugural stint behind the camera marks a stunning debut.

With Blood of My Blood, Bellochio has made a film about how resilient evil, corruption and human stupidity really are.

A clever, daring and unusual piece of cinema which fans of thinking outside the box will appreciate.

To suggest that One Floor Below operates at a simmer would be to exaggerate the level of heat being applied to the pot. This is one that Muntean is happy to let bubble intermittently, cranking the tension around on a scarcely-moving winch.

There are undoubtedly kinks to iron out - the film has a particular problem with pacing during a section that requires careful handling - but this is a handsome and assured feature and certainly suggests a bright future behind the camera for Portman, who also stars.