Capturing Neumann’s fall from grace, this film illuminates some of the most hard-hitting professional and social anxieties of our age.

A lacklustre, clichéd and at times wholly unbelievable film.

Later remade as The Bird Cage, this first adaptation of Jean Poiret’s play is as moving as it is hilarious in its depiction of moral hypocrisy and familial love.

The pacing is methodical but breakthroughs in the case and anxious moments where all is feared lost generate real tension.

Choosing to focus more time on the uncoordinated instinctual trends of the subconscious rather than the moralising role of the cognisant, Enemy lacks the humanity to relate to on an emotional level, ultimately tempering the brooding anxiety and distilling our intrigue into mild curiosity towards the oblique narrative rather than fostering the original menace into something more substantial.

The same ragtag energy which propels it can occasionally become distracting, and there are sequences in the script which feel gratuitous. However, its independent spirit shines through gloriously, reminding the viewer that, really, a decent story and some talented actors is all that’s required to make a movie.

The final moments veer too far towards the melodramatic, especially when the rest of the movie has exhibited a preference for the intellectual powers of argument, logic and reason, however the sense of desperation and accompanying symbolism is tragically potent.

Kröger manages well with moments of pure cinema in between, and a particularly out-there moment of noise and mayhem which threatens to crush the film and the audience in an audiovisual avalanche. There’s an immersive strangeness that only David Lynch has snuck into mainstream cinema.

In a just world, Hadžihalilović would be as acclaimed as somebody like Tim Burton, whose greatest films boast a spiritual connection of sorts to the French director.

While it’s obvious that fans of Lavelle and his many creative ventures will get the most out of The Man From Mo’Wax, this remains a fascinating insight into both the hubris and vulnerability of the music industry, which never shies away from casting it’s subject matter in a sometimes unfavourable light.

No amount of tight corridors and shots of CCTV monitors ever make protagonist Tatyana feel in peril: this, far more than derivative monsters and confusing themes, is Sputnik’s fatal error.

Last Breath makes for a very decent entry into the survival genre of films like Touching the Void with the added appeal of the submarine movie and all the claustrophobia and intensity that comes with that.

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

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

An evocative portrait ... Fiennes utilises a good balance of biography and ballet; emphasising how much Nureyev loved to dance and why, when forced, he chose artistic freedom over love of country.

While on the whole Vice succeeds in offering a highly original take on Cheney’s time in office, it does have a number of weaknesses.

Lilting looks set to linger on in the memory of those who seek it out for weeks, months and perhaps even years to come.

Caniba offers no trite explanations or condemnations of Sagawa. Instead, we are offered a small window into his reality.

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.

Stockholm, My Love is sure to induce warm feelings in those who share Cousins' love of the city, but that peculiarly urban paradox of distance and intimacy will resonate even with those unfamiliar with Sweden's capital.

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".

When You Finish Saving the World is fine. It’s well made, witty, and Wolfhard and Moore are effortlessly convincing in their roles; Wolfhard shucking off his Stranger Things image in the process. The problem – if there is one – is in the smooth snark of the title. There are sharp edges here that never bite.

Six films in, Bettinelli-Olpin and Gillett deserve credit for crafting two set pieces that manage to emphasise their characters’ vulnerability and paralysing fear in surprising and unique ways.

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.

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.

Much like the multitude of heady jazz numbers that flow throughout the film, Paris Blues is a cool, breezy and laid-back character-led romantic drama with strong turns by the four likable leads, not least the late, great Paul Newman, effortlessly exuding that trademark piercing blue-eyed intensity and magnetism.

One of Birds of Prey’s great pleasures is that it tells a Gotham story without having to tell the Gotham story: the adventures of Harley Quinn and associates are not at the centre of some grand narrative, and they are all the better for it.

The metaphors of colonial history, the subjugation of women and Aboriginal peoples, vicious social ills and a nation’s hidden guilty past are all alluded to. But their treatment in The Legend of Molly Johnson are not developed to the extent needed to leave the lasting gut punch, and change of consciousness, this admirable project could have achieved.

Adapted by Cianfrance himself, The Light Between Oceans feels overly tied to its previous form.

Dragged Across Concrete is a unique take on ultraviolence in an age whether the production of films is becoming increasingly polarising. Imbued with a particular stand out performance by Gibson breathes life into Zahler’s mature approach to genre filmmaking.

The Commune is a film built around the intangibility and melancholy of childhood memories. What should have been a gritty work about a generation confronted with the implausibility of their beliefs is ultimately a banal and self-absorbed drama.

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.

Bitch Ass is an off-the-shelf genre flick with some decent ideas and a fun cast, sadly lacking in sufficient inspiration or originality to merit recommendation.

Yes, the cynical argument that Sony needed a franchise to hold its own against the might of Marvel may have something in it. But put the cynicism aside and what you have is a hilarious action-comedy that puts four great comedic women front and centre, with Feig dexterously balancing homage with originality.

Is Raimi’s latest effort as rich as Spider-Man 2, as revolutionary as The Evil Dead or as fun as Drag Me to Hell? No. But within the self-imposed confines of the studio machine, Multiverse of Madness is about as entertaining as it’s possible to be.

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

Hawkins smartly keeps the details of Mannings’ leaks – both in their content and the manner of their distribution – to a tight segment at the film’s mid-point. The effect is to create space for the film to explore something altogether messier and contentious – Manning’s identities as a trans woman and a political activist, and the problematic, even dangerous, ways that her private self and public persona relate.

A challenging and very well considered inspection of familial disintegration, featuring strong performances, Human Factors is a solid entry in the Sundance World Cinema Dramatic Competition.

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.

In the end, it’s more disappointing than bad. A great cast and an interesting period of history (even if it has been done to death on screens and in classrooms) wasted on a sombre muddle that wants to have both the gravity of Shakespeare and a fresh, dynamic perspective.

Franco has a hardlined style and a kind of story that play like an apprentice Haneke. However, as each film arrives, the power diminishes, because the stories are now easily predictable.

With a tightly-woven plot, dazzling cinematography and a razor-sharp cast of characters, Medusa Deluxe is Brit neo-noir at its knotty best.

Alongside The Wrestler, The Whale is Aronofsky at his most compassionate. It’s a gargantuan invitation to empathy and understanding.

Marsh has crafted a compelling film, yet for all the fine performances and intriguing subject matter it is never quite compelling.

Besides the overt journey for Christopher Robin of rediscovering some childhood joy, this film is a poignant exploration of the way in which we sideline important friendships at the behest of professional advancement.

WW84 is far from perfect: its length and fumbling of Minerva’s arc are chief among its sins, but equally there are no denying its simple, vibrant charms. Much like Christopher Reeves as Superman, Gal Gadot simply is Wonder Woman – and this latest entry is undoubtedly her most fun, spectacular and charming yet.

For every slick moment of style, there is an immensely somber undercurrent that matches its beating heart and occasional levity.

An amalgamation of Disney's heritage, current status and future enterprises that starts in the evocatively rendered 1964 World's Fair, Tomorrowland is a refreshing and well-intentioned standalone piece that revels in a creatively manufactured appropriation of the conglomerate's existence.

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

In its determined avoidance of sensationalism, it finds itself stranded in an empty space so understated, it is genuinely difficult to understand what, if anything, it is saying.

There are just too many jumps to make and spaces to fill to fully believe this fantastical obsession.

Sea Fever proves better in concept than in execution, let down by a second act of fumbled editing and slackened tension.

The film itself is utterly uncontroversial, solid, occasionally stolid, and perfectly fine.

There's a wry comic sensibility that sees Hughes himself as an absurdity who seems half aware of his own ridiculousness.

The Violators bravely paints a vicious circle without pulling any punches and shows real promise in a new female British filmmaker.

Like many of the films from that era, Coffy hasn’t aged particularly well, but it’s still an entertaining snapshot of the shifting sociological changes of that time wrapped up in crowd- pleasing B-movie.

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

This film throws toxic male aggression right back at them.

Read as a loose adaptation of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Little Joe is a gripping and visually striking satire of essentialist maternal instinct and the contemporary anxiety of wellbeing.

Mitchell’s third film feels like a script that was locked in a drawer after numerous rejections but now can be brought out and pushed through with clout earned from the success of It Follows.

Despite its lunkish, ludicrous – and frankly cynical – qualities, this entry retains much of the appeal of previous entries.

Delivering clear big screen moments, of which will leave audiences itching to return and experience it all over again, you simply cannot deny that this eccentric mix of ABBA and cinema still holds magic.

Schechter's latest marks its arrival with a fanfare of style and sass, but lacks the necessary bite to leave a lasting impression.

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.

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.

Shock and awe are both present - as is Escalante's intense style - but Heli lacks the ideas or formal dexterity to constitute a state of the nation address in any but the most cursory of ways.

Efira is a dominant and compelling presence and Sibyl is frequently funny. Ultimately, it never quite squares the circle of the comedy and the pain, but Triet is a sophisticated filmmaker and this – her third feature – is further proof of great talent.

The result is a beautifully entertaining film. It is witty and the scenes between Gerwig and Pacino fizz alternately with flirtation, humour and occasionally rage.

With Unbroken, Jolie fails to captures Zamperini's life, and she focuses too much of what he endured and how he survived such suffering, crafting a lacklustre and dull film about an incredibly remarkable man.

Displaying an exemplary commitment to knuckle-biting tension, director Serra has made a riveting B-movie.

Outlaw King is proof positive that Pine is one of the most underestimated actors in modern cinema.

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.

With quite a simple plot, it’s not a particularly challenging or unpredictable storyline, but it’s elevated by great performances, refreshingly dry humour, bold cinematography by Stefan Duscio, and a vibrant original score by François Tétaz.

The film undoubtedly delivers, with all the monster thumping and building smashing that we could want, not to mention a not-so-surprise late appearance from a classic adversary.

Streets of Fire is fairly devoid of anything resembling a cohesive plot or lacking even a shred of subtext. It exists purely as pop action cinema, sweeping you up with a fevered enthusiasm and an overpowering desire to entertain which proves incredibly difficult to resist.

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

There is something reassuring and enjoyable to the familiarity of such a joyous, uplifting and uproariously funny affair and it must be said that the vocal talents of those on show is quite remarkable

Run All Night's saving grace is, unsurprisingly, its lead actor who remains as watchable as ever despite the material he has to work with.

It's all raucous, good natured fun and the laughs come thick and fast.

Salvo ends up feeling like a very bright start for its creators but never quite finds a narrative or thematic drive to match its artistic verve.

From Pteranodon's dive-fishing to Raptors pack-hunting, Jurassic World is in its element when it's using its assets, and though they can't recreate that awe of twenty-two years ago, this is finally a sequel worthy of the title.

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

It's a little messy, like life, but it's also beautiful to experience.

Phoenix has created a masterful performance for a film which itself feels like a masterpiece: a cracked masterpiece.

Though It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World struggles to justify its ludicrous length, there are just enough laughs, cameos and memorable set pieces to garner a recommendation.

Natural Light illuminates the fading glow of humanity amidst horror.

Not only is The Voices uproariously funny throughout, but it's actually far cleverer than one might expect.

Even if Murdoch's directorial style is at times off-putting - the dance routines oscillating wildly from charming to naff - it's hard not to be taken in by trips into Glasgow's backstreet gig venues and the type of Victorian splendour seen on screen too rarely.

It was Shivers that laid the groundwork creating the blend of sex, distorted psychologies and horror which became Cronenberg staples and his signature style in the years to come.

The political commentary feels far more explicitly pointed and widely integral than in previous incarnations which adds a bold new dynamic where perhaps the same re-inventive verve is lacking in the film's formulaic story. Fortunately, Greengrass and Damon are so in command of this material it's rarely too much of a concern. Even when little of substance seems to be happening, the narrative feels propulsive.

It is difficult to work out what to dislike most about Victoria and Abdul: the literal foot-licking or the cliché-ridden plot, but the greatest shame is the waste of a genuinely fascinating piece of history and a world-class Judi Dench performance.

It is told with characteristic precision, compassion and determination by its prolific director.

Quieter moments do punctuate the tension - though the mood never sheds the lingering stench of impending death - and the characters are allowed time to breathe and inject a little colour to their long-standing relationships.

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.

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

Unfortunately, despite its good central idea, Lapeyre and Wilson's execution is disappointingly poor.

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

The story begins with the film's defining act and most accomplished sequence but, despite handsome execution, never hits those heights again in a plot where familiarity severely dampens the squib.