When you're pining for Bill Paxton and the relative emotional realism of Twister, you know you're in trouble.

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.

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.

Bearing in mind the dramatic nature of the real life-and-death story at Dormant Beauty's core, this is an unacceptable and irresponsible piece of filmmaking for all of its good intentions.

There are glimmers of a more complex, empathetic film here: the main cast do fine work with what they’ve got and the film’s apparent detachment from its characters mirrors the empty indifference that often characterises depression. But any potential for complexity is undone by the film’s tacky reveals, mawkish speechifying and its often spiteful approach to its own characters.

It has to be said that Van Sant is not above doing one for the studio but quite what sins he had committed to be made to make this pile of sub-Nicolas Sparks tripe will be beyond most.

Other than a sinking feeling, there’s not much else The Chamber is going to give you.

The final twist is so manipulative and cynical as to be actually enraging.

American Honey ticks off all of the indie clichés. Fireworks? Check. Standing up in convertible with your arms outstretched? Check. Grubby children? Check. But all of this could be forgiven, or at least put up with, if the film wasn't so long and meandering.

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

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.

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.

The trademark brutal violence remains effective, and Zahler maintains a pervasive feeling of dread throughout his films, but Dragged Across Concrete shows the limits of taking the game long.

Intermittently entertaining and laudably short, for all its best intentions Cymbeline is cursed by doing again what others have done better.

Another limp, almost laugh-free comedy to add to Diaz's long list of failures, Kasdan's Sex Tape fails to ignite the obvious chemistry between her and the usually solid Segel, himself in possibly his least entertaining performance.

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.

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.

Some of it is funny. Some of it is moving. More of it is plain dull.

It’s not that Abigail is terrible: all its pieces slip together where they should, but its for all its excessive violence and gore it is a dull, lifeless experience.

Leach's camera remains sympathetic to these characters. He doesn't judge, and for a time it is intriguing to see why these people are so obsessed with this myth.

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

Asking little of its stars, and even less of any watching audience, Get Hard is a familiar studio comedy that barely succeeds in its attempt to drown out a thin plot with jokes that will appeal to people who have seen a lot of the actors' previous films. Perhaps the offensive thing about it is that we've seen this all before.

The Mauritanian is not the film it could, and really should, have been.

With no fun to be had, The Gunman also lacks essential thrills. If Sean Penn is winging for an action-hero renaissance like Neeson's, he'll be in need of material a lot more compelling than this.

While the core concepts of Transcendence and the questions they pose are inherently interesting, the manner in which the themes are explored feels extremely superficial.

It’s just Huppert on autopilot and like that dry white wine, you can have too much of it.

Constructed with his trademark panache, it is bold, bracing and stylish in both its aesthetics and an outstanding retro soundtrack, but as its parallel leading ladies will discover to their peril, not all that glitters is gold.

Rio 2's Amazon adventure finds its wings clipped by more tired and unnecessary subplots than you can shake a feather at.