An entertaining and suitably gruesome gangster thriller which nevertheless feels like a missed opportunity.

Slattery does at times struggle to bring anything new to the impoverished blue-collar, working-class trope. Relying heavily on several top-drawer character actors to lift his occasionally flat, even nihilistic story of love and death amidst urban decay, it's Hoffman and Jenkins that deserve the largest proportion of praise, while other characters quickly fall to the wayside of our interest.

Schumer is a gifted comedienne and shines brightly when left to run riot, make former wrestlers cry and stick up for modern-day women (for most of the time). It's just a shame it doesn't stick to its guns as it could have really been something.

The visual aspects of the film cannot override the sometimes cumbersome dialogue that orientates political scenes of this subject matter.

Legend crucially lacks almost any sense of gravitas, although the bold and brash approach does keep you entertained.

Shim directs well, but he lacks the verve for this to sail through on its visuals and although the denouement returns to the unconventional (discounting the unnecessary coda), the climax reduces the impact of what was otherwise an enthralling voyage.

This affectionate portrait in failure is more in the tone of Darren Aronofky's Venice winner The Wrestler, carried mainly by a brilliantly swollen performance by Schrieber, full of humour and bluff and yet with an intelligence to learn his lessons, slowly, but learn them.

Unsurprisingly, Jackman is as perfect for Wolverine as he was when he first played the character 13 years ago. Convincing whether going berserk on a troublesome ninja or showing Logan's inner turmoil, he's a commanding presence throughout and, as you might expect, is the film's engine.

Araki does manage to give Kasischke's ending a subversive little twist, but the scenario has spawned numerous complex questions and while they may be given traction throughout, the rushed and forced conclusion leaves one simultaneously nonchalant and conflicted, much like Kat.

A postmodern experiment in both form and function, Life of Riley's rigidity can at times feel like its restricting its actors, leaving them unable to treads the boards with the same authority they would on the stage.

As in thrall to its fantasy as its characters, On a Magical Night confuses what is admittedly a charming conceit for depth. Nevertheless, that charm is enough to sustain the picture across its 90-minute runtime, even if its effects quickly recede into memory.

Much like young Jeanette, there is no compromise in Dumont's vision that mixes the irreverent and the austere.

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

Cosmatos’ Mandy matches Cage grimace for grimace and achieves, at times, a transcendent midnight madness.

There's no getting away from it, Gibson has produced another bombastic, crowd-pleasing and obviously blood-soaked movie which expertly glorifies that which its hero was against.

What lets the film down somewhat is an issue that has dogged much of the studio’s recent middling efforts, namely an inert narrative and a wishy-washy message that ultimately doesn’t have the courage of its own convictions.

A United Kingdom is a solid, competently made and gorgeously photographed film, but its exploration of complex issues - race, gender, politics and affairs of state - feels rather safe throughout, their full impact and import somewhat dialled back.

That Sy and Gainsbourg's love story never quite inflames the heart ultimately means that Samba remains a pleasant, rather than an enduring watch.

Richard Marquand opts largely for more intimate surrounding and manages to squeeze out some memorable moments of Hitchcockian suspense and tension.

Buried underneath the convolutions, the mistaking of melodramatic sensationalism over psychological reality, there really is something of a real emotional centre that just about makes enduring the rest worth it.

Character and psychology aren't really the point here. Bozon's world is one of adult grotesquerie splatting against the wall of youthful hostility.

It's a good-looking film and the three leads hold our attention, yet the lacklustre plotting and lack of narrative drive undercut The Man from U.N.C.L.E.'s overall charm.

The film itself is fairly conventional given the wildness of its subject matter and Jim Jarmusch's pedigree.

It is evident that her art is what she has used to plough through the attendant difficulties – lack of success and recognition, mental health issues – of the life she chose for herself. And as the documentary confirms, she has indeed been rewarded for it at long last.

Mektoub My Love is an often beguiling work, drenched in beauty and humour and an inclusive warmth.

The measured narrative and anti-climactic finale do mean that Mystery Road doesn’t pander to all tastes, and it never conforms to thriller conventions, but Sen has undoubtedly succeeded in fashioning a thoroughly engrossing journey into a modern Australian wilderness that’s well worth seeking out.

Campillo doesn't edit for our comfort and we feel both the tragedy and the boredom of death.

Gerard Johnson's sophomore feature might look on the outset like the type of London crime thriller usually populated by Jason Statham, but it's more emotionally complex than its outset gives it credit for.

In an age where many horror franchises attempt to adhere as close to the original film’s formula as possible, Hooper’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 is a fun reminder of a time when makers were able to rewrite their own rules and go for broke. This was never going to top what had gone before, and by acknowledging that, the filmmakers have crafted a wonderfully demented alternative in its place.

Rather than confront the guilt related to the sins of the past it paints over them in vivid colours, hoping the viewer will collude in its melodramatic muddying of the water.

Panahi keeps everything as softly spoken as his own onscreen presence and yet some of those quiet observations are devastating.

Its stately pace doesn't preclude Mr. Holmes (2015) from being a delightful romp all the same.

Ultimately, Everest is not concerned with the why, but with the how and it's grimly efficient at building up the drama, helped on by Clarke's wonderful character study, even if the film as a whole never quite reaches the dizzying heights of its subject.

As with Kaufman's own stunts, it's difficult to know what to take seriously.

The fear of old age’s erosion of our faculties, our agency and our relevance is a potent, almost paralysing one: the way we perceive and treat our elders invariably reveals something about ourselves. In her charming and off-kilter documentary The Mole Agent, Chilean director Maite Alberdi confronts that fear literally through the eyes of her subject.

While not entirely successful, the film’s sense of finality gives the main players space to grow, unhampered by the usual carousel of upcoming sequels and spin-offs.

Once seen, Aldrich’s What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? is hard to forget, as it charts the sad path of many a former child star to the backwaters of the Hollywood hills.

Killing Ground isn't terrible. Far from it, in fact. It uses the non-linear narrative structure well to toy with the audience and create a sense of mystery around the duel arcs of the characters involved.

Though it can't bear too much comparison with Sicario, Wind River is far better than its title suggests and a promising directorial debut.

If you can forgive the cardboard villains and suspicious editing, there is plenty here to hold your interest.

There’s a dark streak of comic absurdity running throughout Harold and Maude that serves a dual purpose; it gives the film its unique, heightened tone, but it also conversely grounds the more whimsical element by hinting at a greater darkness beyond the events portrayed within.

Del Toro’s latest ventures away from fantasy, revealing the monsters in this fable to be all too human.

Its lasting resonance and wider humanitarian message is diluted by a second half that drags it down.

Sono throws everything at the screen – samurai battles, shootouts, Cage shouting and threatening to karate chops the locals – but it rarely provides anything but the sense you’re watching bizarre performance art in place of a good film.

Once beyond the babble of the Mindfulness merchants, the latter half of the documentary, however, is far more interesting and compelling as Shen has his experts round on the noise pollution that so disrupts our lives.

The Capote Tapes show a talent that seemed to go to waste while at the same time teasing us with the possibility that there is more yet to come.

The Vatican using VR technology to seek out victims of the demonically possessed is an intriguing and weirdly logical progression for the 21st century (move over exorcists, now we have techxorcists), but what generally lets the movie down is its bland dialogue, bland casting, and routine approach to frights.

For all its heart and warmth, the desire to offer as many contrasting viewpoints as possible leads to a sense that the biggest elephant in the room isn’t really being dealt with. Support the Girls, ultimately, is a film about an industry built on sexism, that prefers not to dwell too long on the question of sexism itself.

It never pierces beneath the frivolous surface of the insular society it creates and it is this peculiar lack of drama, doubt or mystery that marks it out as a curio, certainly in reflection of contemporaneous masterpieces by Godard or Antonioni. Where Darling does feel vital and pertinent is in its treatment of celebrity as a goal unto itself, something to be coveted at all costs.

Gonzalez can be masterful in conjuring sexy imagery, febrile moods and erotic frissons, but his grip on the storytelling here is weak. Knife + Heart struggles to regain its initial momentum, falling flat until a lively climax.

The latent wonder of Southern Comfort lies in Hill’s dangerously direction and a script that spits and curses like a troop of undomesticated delinquents.

It is a demanding watch, but at the same time, Alonso's latest has a bizarre, beguiling quality which drifts towards the sublime even if it never quite gets to its destination.

It mostly holds together, but you'd have to hope that David Brent: Life on the Road represents the farewell tour.

Double Impact is a perfectly fine film, and is easily one of the best to come out of Van Damme’s back catalogue. If you want a film to have whilst drinking some ‘manly’ beers with ‘manly’ friends, then you could do much worse than .

Jupiter's Moon is a highly ambitious and thoroughly entertaining trip and if the politics is more backdrop than subtext, what remains is compelling and occasionally beautiful enough for you to enjoy the flight.

The politics serves as footnote to the aesthetic for Wheatley and High-Rise is certainly style over substance. For fans of the British director, that may well be more than enough.

Anderson's comic slasher doesn't quite earn its wings as a potential future classic, nevertheless it's very funny and another welcome indicator that antipodean genre cinema is where it's at right now.

Behind the closed doors of this lakeside paradise it is clear that there’s trouble afoot.

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.

It might seem unlikely that something so narratively simplistic and ultimately childish could sustain its runtime but the chaos and comedy of the haphazard gunplay is such that it only suffers from a handful of lulls.

Kelly eschews talking heads or expert testimony, and only rarely to characters flesh out the skeleton provided by occasional intertitles. When this style is employed for a single, short-term conflict, it can be incredibly powerful (just think of Sergei Loznitsa’s Maïdan) but Kelly’s film effectively drops the audience in situ at specific events within a much broader six-year framework without any context.

Tod Williams, a journeyman best known for Paranormal Activity 2, has managed to transfer King's very popular brand of horror with a good deal of success.

What starts out as creepy descends into a creature feature that's more laughable than scary.

The alienness of humanity, when seen from another perspective, is evident throughout the film.

Short but sweet, Advanced Style goes some way towards reclaiming high fashion for all ages and backgrounds - not just the young, privileged and white.

With references to other sci-fi films, however, it's obvious Project Almanac is aware of its genre clichés, strengths, and faults, and that makes for a genuinely fun time for film buffs.

Each scene is presented like a taro card for the viewer to assign his or her own meaning. Occasionally this can lead to a profound and deeply personal connection to the film whilst at others it can feel like Malick is overreaching; with large swaths of the narrative washing over you like an agreeable summer's breeze.

The pacing of Meyers' film sometimes drags a little but like a slow-moving training heading for the end of the line we can see the danger ahead and are powerless to prevent it. This frustration, and a gripping central performance, make My Friend Dahmer a film you can't pull your eyes away from.

[Miles Teller] does dogged, unerring determination very well and makes Younger's film an engaging rollercoaster ride.

Garrel and Miller manage to create a credible chemistry.

Zombi Child is a stirring and highly peculiar piece of work.

Despite all this, Sicario 2 remains highly watchable thanks to what it does preserve from the original: its mood of constant dread and impending doom.

By interchanging bawdy gaiety and a ponderous attitude to emphasise the film's spiritual message, Calvary feels extremely disjointed, struggling to balance its dualistic tone on top of its oversized ensemble cast.

Certain sequences are handled exceptionally... but others feel overblown and some characters underwhelm. That’s not to say that Black Sea is not an enjoyable – and at times, enthralling – aquatic adventure, it just never quite thrills as much as it spills, and flounders during some of its more emotional beats.

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.

The dark heart of In the Courtyard makes its comedy ever more piquant, while Deneuve and Kervern are exceptional as two lonely souls finding solace in each other's company during the twilight years of their lives.

Ultimately, Alverson’s The Mountain is arthouse cinema at its frostiest.

A chilling expose of state-sponsored cyber warfare and the enemy within.

Moland is telling a tale of paradise lost but Horses is perhaps less remarkable for its plot than it is for its style.

Though some artfulness is dredged up amongst the trash, there's plenty to perturb and perplex.

Spielberg asks audiences to fondly remember their childhood, and to fall back in love with characters, songs and stories long forgotten. At the same time, there is a didactic notion that reality is always better than a synthetic replication. You can’t comfortably have both.

The film’s doggedly chronological structure – at odds with its ostensible privileging of psychology over history – sometimes leaves its personal observations feeling superficial.

The Dial of Destiny starts with a prologue that easily stands up against the classic trilogy, is often disarmingly poignant and never less than entertaining. Much of this is down to Ford, who has always excelled at bringing depth and charm to a character who on paper is fundamentally little more than a silhouette.

Jackson's efforts have peaked and troughed, but this final chapter will undoubtedly satisfy fans, and kindle a sense of sadness as this hobbit's tale finally draws to a close.

Black Mass is ultimately a decent film with some great parts, but unfortunately it falls short of the canon to which it aspires.

Pacing issues and clichéd dialogue between Jamie and Cathy, however, can make proceedings tedious at points. Fortunately, the spectacular acting from both Kendrick and Jordan more than make up for it. Their on screen chemistry is tepid and duets feel forced, but when each is on their own and belting out their various parts, there's a definite pull to each.

All of Gilliam's little details are fun and there are some laugh-out-loud lines, but the actual story itself is never compelling and simply doesn't zip as it should.

Just as we feel that we have grasped the truth behind the image, it vanishes into thin air: The Real Charlie Chaplin is a Sisyphean task of the directors’ own making.

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.

A funny and touching coming-of-age story that occasionally loses its way, just like its protagonist.

The screenplay balances the big narrative beats that this kind of broad crowd pleaser demands, along with posing more difficult social questions to which there are no easy answers.

While it is hard to imagine its themes of gender fluidity and female empowerment not resonating with contemporary audiences, Wash and his fellow screenwriters make these parallels irritatingly obvious, to the extent that characters constantly say and do things that feel implausibly millennial, and caricatures (especially male ones) abound.

It doesn’t hit the heights of former collaborations, but there’s a lot to drink in and appreciate here, and Mikkelsen’s all-dancing finale is one of the most exultant, triumphant moments in recent cinema memory.

Coherence is a debut of tremendous ambition and potential, yet sadly, despite some genuine moments of tension, the film ironically makes too many wrong turns and its convoluted themes fail to coalesce on a human level, tempering the initial intrigue and culminating in a plaintive sense of admiration, rather than enraptured adulation.

The performances are pitch perfect, particularly that of Marceau, who is superb in riding through the conflicts of the situation and the moments when the strong emotions riding over the niceties finally come to the fore.

Religious allegories, monochrome photography and folk horror trappings will draw in viewers as much as its meandering contemplations and languorous pacing may test their patience.

As the film drifts through dream sequences and diversions, the dramatic power of the chase fizzles in the damp of the woods.

Featuring McClure, Cushing and Monroe, these films based on novels by Edgar Rice Burroughs highlight that author’s penchant for adventure stories.