Foregoing breadth in favour of depth, War is at its core a character study disguised as a science fiction epic.

Benefiting from the matter-of-fact, unerring defiance exhibited by the group, Heineman is unflinching in representing the brutality perpetrated by ISIS as well as their own very savvy use of the media as a tool for recruitment and influence.

Land of Mine serves as a poignant reminder that revenge destroys more than it satisfies and that compassion aids the healing process.

Overall the film's trashy pleasures just about keep it afloat.

It won't be for everyone by any means, but Captain Underpants: The First Movie would be easy to overlook as another kids-only waste of money. But that's not the case. The film subverts this every step of the way and constantly turns in new, unexpected directions in order to surprise and entertain its audience from the start to the end.

Its spontaneity and uncertain evolution are both gripping and slightly terrifying given that what becomes a quest for truth could just as likely see its subjects killed or imprisoned as set free.

There is no soul, and no heart to the story. A good sci-fi is never merely about the effects, it's about the plot, character and thoughts they bring to life, all of which Valerian lacks in abundance.

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.

The director's technical mastery finally transcends craft to become art and, as a result, this is his best film to date.

This is a compelling and rich documentary that captivates and inspires in a similar fashion to some of his best work behind the camera.

It's a gem of a film to be cherished by one and all.

The funniest Spider-Man film yet, Homecoming is a true teen flick, its visuals full of colour and exuberant movement.

Skillfully mixing elements of horror while never alienating its core PG demographic, The 'Burbs also benefits from a wonderfully playful score by the late great Jerry Goldsmith. While the film bottles it slightly at the end with the obvious, neatly-tied-together resolution which would have benefited from maintaining an ambiguity, the enormous sense of fun established by Dante and his cast in the run-up more than makes up for any shortcomings.

The script is well-paced and packed with twists and turns that offers little in the way of respites to the beautiful mayhem. The characters, too, are wonderfully realised through the performances from the entire cast, each making a big impression no matter how long they're on screen.

Dirty Grandpa wants to be as filthy as a Tijuana peep show featuring a beleaguered performer and put upon donkey, but ends up as sickly sweet as a Werther's Original.

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.

A compelling re-telling of the singer's story.

The Seasons in Quincy is most compelling when we and it listens to Berger or captures him listening to someone else.

As well as ruminating on grief and the impalpable, incomprehensible sense of loss in the wake of a lifelong love, A Man Called Ove gives credence to the notion that there is much more to any individual than merely a name, that outer appearance and behaviour belie an unknown past.

Harmonium remains a deeply affecting narrative of guilt, consequence and failed redemption.

Adapting Melanie Joosten's novel, Shaun Grant has been unable to recapture the grimey darkness of everyday evil of his previous script Snowtown. Instead, we get a sojourn in place of trauma.

What the director and writers have done is turn something that's considered by many to be dumb-but-fun into an overlong, unfunny film that's just plain dumb.

Wonder Woman is not a great film, nor is it the feminist glass ceiling-smasher that many had hoped for. But after the offensively stupid Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice and Suicide Squad, Wonder Woman feels nothing short of revelatory.

After the Storm is undoubtedly one of Kore-eda's best.

My Life as a Courgette is a tender, funny and wise-beyond-its-years stop-motion animation that takes on tough subject matter through the eyes of a child.

War Machine is a good film but not a great one, hamstrung by too many ideas and too little focus, its effectiveness eroded as it pulls itself in multiple tonal directions.

Serraille avoids every miserablist cul-de-sac and tries for something much more radical: optimism.

Mitchell's understanding of punk seems to be the brandishing of two or three cliches, shouting a lot and name-checking bands.

It isn't that it's hard going: it simply can't decide what it wants to be. [Cannes Version]

Over the years, Phoenix has given us some of the most memorable portraits of dark flawed men from Commodus to Johnny Cash. Here, he is excellent, utterly convincing as a man who has been hammered by the world and so has decided to hammer it back.

Garrel and Miller manage to create a credible chemistry.

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.

Happy End may be something of a greatest hits mixtape, but it's also an arresting offering.

Zvyagintsev is masterfully compiling a cinematic record of suffering, and the indifference surrounding and facilitating it, which will live on.

Bright Sunshine In is a pithily precise portrait of the love life of an artist.

Sculpture is the art of turning lifeless stone into something that looks alive, flesh, living bodies and movement. Jacques Doillon's Rodin, in competition at Cannes, does precisely the opposite, turning living beings - passionate artists, no less - into lumps of lifeless clay.

There's something highly familiar about the material and although it is artful and occasionally powerful, Akin and co-screenwriter Hark Bohm have constructed their story without straying far from countless other versions of the same thing.

Despite a first half of great promise, the film is ultimately ground down by the endless suffering even as it bloats with a bizarre lurch into satirical fantasy.

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

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.

There is much to enjoy here - especially at the beginning - and Östlund's ambition and vision are to be applauded. However, The Square would have been greatly improved had the director taken his scalpel and his demanding critical eye and applied it to the film itself.

A dry and surprisingly dull film, it is a comedy which doesn't induce a single laugh and a drama that doesn't engage emotionally or pull on the heartstrings at all.

From its first moments, The Red Turtle is a captivating ultra-sensory experience; sounds are crisp and images are hand-drawn perfection.

The pint-sized simplicity of this acutely well told and acted tale should not be underestimated.

While Chastain, and the surrounding cast, drive the narrative there is no denying that as time runs on it begins to unravel frustratingly, reaching an unsatisfying conclusion. Yet, Chastain's performance is one that lingers in the mind.

The journey through a nighttime New York is rich in realistic characters, observational details and some original locations.

Fans of Kawase will likely enjoy this delicate tale of people finding their way in the dark.

In Farrell and Kidman, he has found two performers who are utterly willing to go the whole hog and their performances are brilliant deadpans.

It has a powdery dryness, a sly wit which is indeed beguiling.

Baumbach writes his dialogue with a sharp pencil and the film bursts with non-sequiturs, put downs and hilarious lines.

The fraudulent nature of the mystery makes Wonderstruck feel like a technical exercise: albeit one which is enlivened by some great visuals and excellent performances, particularly the wonderful Millicent Simmonds.

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

It's hardly original nor necessary, but it's a fun and absorbing escapade on the Seven Seas.

Okja is exuberant and wild filmmaking.

Sidestepping the question of whether or not shamanic methods 'work' in a scientific sense, Caraballo and Norzi directly depict the psychedelic experience of Ayahuasca itself by seamlessly blending dream and reality into a single stunning whole.

For all of the perfection of the period-detail browns and greys, Afterimage could have done with a touch more colour.

By focusing on the family, James makes Abacus about resilience and humility rather than the mechanics of litigation and in doing so underscores - perhaps more strongly than in other louder films on similar subjects - the injustice of the situation.

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.

Mindhorn is a ridiculous comic creation taken to extraordinary, laugh-a-minute heights.

As a return to the dark, primal and transgressive terrors of the original movie, Alien: Covenant is a success.

Whilst Sutherland gives an impressive and powerful performance as an American on the run, the lack of substance and originality leaves you feeling somewhat unsatisfied.

The superb editing of news footage, the home video recording of the King beating and a dizzying amount of imagery from the heart of darkness during the riots throws us into the unfolding disturbances with minute-by-minute immediacy.

Their Finest by no means reinvents the wheel but in the hands of Scherfig - who previously directed An Education - it looks wonderful, has enough substance to back up its gleaming charm and is a very enjoyable period piece that wears its heart and intentions firmly on its well starched sleeve.

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

Quillévéré has created a poignant exploration not just of death, but of life, love and fragility.

Oldroyd has made a film here that's incredibly tied to its nineteenth century setting, yet modern at the same time in the way it addresses femininity - more importantly, the power women have no matter how they're viewed by society or expected to behave by their male counterparts.

Led by a trio of tremendous performances from its female leads, Wright, front and centre as Jamie, is the stand-out.

The choice soundtrack, accompanied by the candyfloss aesthetic make for moments of fun, but it ultimately lacks the originality of the first.

Though it may tell of one family's story in the late nineteenth century, and the superb costume and period attention to detail are firmly rooted in its time and place, the case that Tommy's Honour makes for breaking tradition, being true to oneself and challenging authority establishes thematic ties that are timeless.

Nothing else this year can match Another Evil for its expert chills, comic dialogue, Office-level cringe and disturbing themes.

A far darker side of London is painted in bleakly realistic tones in City of Tiny Lights but, like its protagonist, Travis' film shoots from the hip, has a glint in its eye and packs a mean punch.

Although past and current race relations are starkly drawn, Peck's film never feels bleak. This is mainly due to Baldwin's charismatic screen presence, his passion for reasoned argument and the power of his rhetoric.

While Davies vividly captures the period's austerity and Dickinson's despair at being misunderstood, there are a few too many scenes of repressed emotion followed by wild outbursts of grief.

Like much of his recent scripted work, it's a mannered affair that's vague and clumsy.

Urging us to grin in the face of impending death, Truman handles grim material with grace, humour and the honesty of two old friends who tell it like it is.

For all the moral degradation of its characters, Graduation is uncompromising in its vision of the cost of parental responsibility.

Youssef himself with his crooked smile and exuberant enthusiasm comes across as someone who in a normal state of affairs would be just another amiably slick joker. But in this context he takes on the bravery and the bearing of a hero.

The period atmosphere isn't alive with bold ideas as much as decay.

All of the film is handled in such a way: from the beautiful monochrome photography that only extends the disconnection Olga feels with the world, to the understated and haunting performances, particularly Olszanska's.

This is a confident dramatic voice emerging and it will be interesting to see what comes next.

Peele's blistering debut is a timely and powerful satire of modern prejudice as much as it is a taut, gripping exercise in horror cinema.

The tone is mournfully serious and this contrasts with the inherent silliness of vampires. Milo, with his glazed expression and apparent absence of affect utterings, is a compellingly dour presence but doesn't prove quite enough to prop the film up alone.

A documentary that poses more questions that it answers can intrigue and beguile but there are vast areas in We Are X left crying out for further exploration.

Dark, lurid, sadistic and powerful, it is at the least a fascinating and bold debut, and promises better to come.

Adoring fans of the original will surely not be disappointed. Disney have cast their magic spell once again, creating a modern romantic fable with lavish visuals and wickedly entertaining performances.

Caution should always be taken when branding any film about an 80-foot ape "illogical", but such is the gross stupidity of the film's movable feast - and the abominable dialogue spewing from their mouths - that you'll likely thank the primate deity himself every time one is crushed, impaled or bisected.

It's a sparse and ravishing meditation on faith.