Though Spike Lee would clearly like this movie to remind you of ills-of-TV satires like A Face In The Crowd and Network (there's a spin on the well-remembered "mad as hell" speech), it comes out as a weird, unsatisfying hybrid of Robert Downey Sr.'s Putney Swope and Mel Brooks's The Producers.

Telling an unfamiliar tale in a highly predictable manner, this is a laudable, but lightweight tribute to golf's founding fathers.

While this combination of Michael J. Fox, light comedy and uncomplicated values must’ve looked fine on paper, on screen it doesn'’t quite make the grade.

Slow, ponderous and as shallow as it thinks it is deep, lifted only by an impressive opening and fine work from Damon and Howard.

The first film was so middle-of-the-road that most have probably forgotten it existed. Its sequel creates a more lasting impression, with vibrant animation and a wackadoodle sense of humour.

Both leading ladies display great willingness to send up themselves and Hollywood, and Willis' quiet nervous breakdown showcases his previously unguessed-at comic skills. But it's the pitch-black comedy and celebrity satire that make this so enjoyable.

It’s but a shadow of the original and a lesser entry in their (Coens) collection, but you are still blessed by flashes of black heart.

Bruising battles and some stirring performances make Troy enjoyable, if rather long. But if audiences can forgive the camp, they'll still struggle to empathise with the characters.

A must for movie buffs, but too much of the charm resides in the clips and exhibits and those unaffected by the nostalgia will find the romantic triangle a touch too contrived.

Cinema’s least-subtle and most-escalated series hits its sky-high-concept plateau. It's a film that somehow finds new and fabulously silly things to do with cars, while — Momoa’s questionable villain aside — being exactly what you’d expect.

If this tiresome yarn is the ‘true’ story of one of Disney’s most popular villains then, please, give us colourful lies and happy ignorance.

Always a spoof rather than a homage, this comedy soon realises there's only so many laughs you can plunder from the heavy premise and the repetitive carriages.

Minus delightful stars, this would be laboured indeed. Thanks to them, it scrapes along as modestly appealing fluff.

There's some likable energy to the performances and a strong soundtrack, but the lack of sustained dancing make this more of a nostalgic fantasy than a proper musical, whereas 'Shagging' itself seems far too complicated to catch on.

Sweet but predictible angst-ridden Brat Pack outing.

More Sunday afternoon filler than cinema sensation, it’s a perfectly pleasant drama, but you’ll struggle to remember it the next day.

Combining genuine emotional stakes, biting black humour and enough blood and dismembered limbs to satisfy even seasoned gorehounds, Chris Baugh’s terrific, unorthodox vampire flick has got it where it Counts.

A handsome murder mystery with a neat literary twist and an impressive turn from Harry Melling, but which is overcast by the gloominess of its protagonist and the implausibility of its revelations.

Holly Hunter goes toe-to-toe nicely with the superbly understated Al Pacino loner obsessed with a long-lost love — one of his most rewarding outings in a very long time.

Well intentioned and played, this shows flashes of what could have been, but is ultimately let down by its timidity towards the maths, and fails to make the case for its own hero’s greatness.

Edgar Wright’s biggest film yet feels like something out of both the future and the 1980s: a scathing satire that’s also a lot of fizzy blockbuster fun.

Despite being an entirely formulaic heartstring-tugger with some finger-gag­ging moments, the performances are appealing, particularly the endearing Chlumsky.

Hardly a classic given the talents of Carell, Rudd and Roach at his best. It bungles utilising plenty of talent in a lightweight comedy effort that brings little fresh to the table.

The mix of light comedy and really quite dark themes proved too much for many viewers, but this is worth a look for Broderick's performance and Carrey's obsessive touches.

Not exactly light entertainment and it can drag in places but when the drama is cranked up, it really works.

Unfortunately shallow characterisation, a script so laid-back you can almost hear it snoring and the occasional outburst of hokey dialogue lead to a movie a good deal less charming than it thinks it is.

An austere, cerebral reading of a book which is unfettered, blood-bolstered and wildly sensationalist — Lewis is the father of torture porn, not a master of subtle chills. It’s interesting and unsettling, with a charismatic lead performance, but nowhere near as shocking as it should be.

Another dazzling Jennifer Lawrence performance anchors a blue-collar parable that boasts some inspired moments but never quite gels.

More style than substance... but such sexy, sexy style...

Arterton triumphs again and Swale marks herself as a director to watch. Summerland successfully combines an intelligent feminist fable and a lesbian love story with a slick period tearjerker.

A difficult film and one that's likely to offend in some ways. But as an elliptical, dream-logic infused visual poem, it certainly leaves a searing impression.

It may be unfair to compare a film with its stage source, but the fact remains that the film, while retaining a great deal of both humour and pathos, is a less persuasive work and more obviously a vehicle for a starry ensemble.

The science is haphazard, the techniques gimmicky, but the point is cogently made.

No matter how well dressed, the movie can’t escape the gravitational pull of formula. Without a convincing subtext, Black Rain is pretty dull fare indeed.

Yayyyy, monsters!

Disappointing. Stone whipped this out in time for the US Presidential election, but it’s hard to see how it’ll make any significant impact on voters. Or why it even should.

Crude, hilarious, if a little corny, Smith's latest hardcore comedy is right on the money shot.

A sometimes girlie swirl of obsession that will delight fans, this faithful adaptation is after teenage blood, and will most likely hit a box office artery.

Writer/director Peter Landesman has turned out a film that nonetheless remains desperately conventional and never communicates that sense of inspiration.

A modernised Bond is dragged kicking and screaming into the 70s.

An uneven, somewhat meandering thriller is given emotional pull by Mel Gibson’s excellent comeback performance. The lethal weapon hasn’t lost it.

Bitty and frustrating, its bigger laughs are set against some off-balance storytelling and crude comedy. Not one to take your nan to.

Intermittently funny but erratically structured, it's a rare disappointment from Shelton.

Come for the wise alien spider, stay for Adam Sandler at his sombre best in this strange, heartfelt sci-fi drama. Here’s hoping he continues to push himself to new highs.

Intense direction (Pekinpah) coupled with assured acting (McQueen).

Schlesinger, using slick camera angles and direction that bear a striking similarity to those of the old master himself, manages to pile on that tension in spades.

As with all great spoofers, you can feel the love the director has for Hitchcock, the thoroughness of his jokes vouches for that and the entire plot is loosely based on Spellbound. Perhaps, he was too devoted, the film lacks daring, it’s soft, Hitch would have sneered at such weakness.

Director Dennis Hopper continues the fumbling manner of "Colors" and the forthcoming-but-disowned "Catchfire," drawing out what ought to be a 72 minute B-picture into two hours and ten minutes of sweaty silliness with three pretty stars who can't quite bring themselves to be camp enough for the material.

Almodovar consolidated his status as a challenging and bold filmmaker by forcing Americans to drop their zany preconceptions of him and see his world through his eyes.

Whether or not the metaphorical aspects excite you, an unshakeable tolerance for high camp and lowbrow humour may be required to fully appreciate Almodóvar’s broad, bawdy comedy — even for fans of his early, funny films.

A clever and enjoyable wrapping-up of the time-travelling adventures.

Far less cuddly than expected, this unusual and elegant movie may have failed to connect with US audiences but it proves Spielberg is currently the most unpredictable director in Hollywood.

A smart, subversive but rather cold debut from Brandon Cronenberg that's short of the dark wit that lit up his father's early work. Then again, comparisons are hardly fair, especially when Cronenberg Jr. clearly has plenty of ideas of his own.

It benefits from a supernaturally engaging cast, but this treads too closely to the rom-com model to feel as smart or moving as Westfeldt's previous best.

It aches for more depth and warmth and humour, but this is spectacular sci-fi — huge, operatic, melodramatic, impressive. It feels the right Superman origin story for our era, and teases what would be a welcome new superfranchise.

Ghoulish, tense and utterly fantastical, John Carpenter's tale of shipwrecked spectres squelching their way through a fluorescent fog to wreak vengeance on a seaside town is a classic campfire yarn.

Passionate performances from De Niro and Jeremy Irons in this stark but thematically complex historical drama.

It’s always a good story, this time told more creepily than usual. Good, but not as good as The Muppets’ Christmas Carol, Scrooged, Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol or some great, classic live action classic versions.

Flawed but very original.

Fennell throws everything at this fever-dream adaptation, which massages the senses while showcasing Elordi’s ever-growing star power. If only its electrically erotic energy was sustained to the end.

Guy Ritchie’s defiantly ahistorical romp is part derring-do spycraft, part bullet-riddled action, part impish comedy, and all-parts silly.

Unpretentiously and likeable Peter Hyams is one of the few hacks still working at this budget level, and he relishes the chance to make an audience jump, not only with some neat monster effects and a pile of mutilated corpses but also with some subtleties of editing and lighting, plus one of the loudest jump-out-of-your-seat soundtracks in a recent memory.

A surprisingly rose-tinted look at a subculture that really should have been stamped out some time ago.

One man’s near-emotionless trip through an event that was the high watermark for US counterculture moves along without any real sense of purpose or pace.

An enjoyable if routine period crime picture with good performances from Jason Sudeikis and Lee Pace, but it lacks a personality and style of its own.

Good fight scenes, but a confusion of plot, culture and accents make this a lesser example of the sword 'n' sandal epic.

A mixed bag of bones and bodies, whose Southern Gothic atmosphere and superb performances — from Holland especially — are let down by the film’s lack of narrative focus.

Don’t let its commercial nosedive in the US tell the whole story. Cloud Atlas is a tough sell, but a rewarding journey all the same. It’s an adventure into the very concept of storytelling: magical, enthralling and thrilling as much as bewildering, pompous and potty. In other words, up in the clouds.

Although Branagh has done a good job of toning down the opera's more ridiculous elements, what remains will test even the most willing opera virgin.

A sort of kiddie creature-feature with a big red heart, Clifford offers solid family fare with moments of throwback charm. Not quite a 12/10 on the WeRateDogs scale, but still a good boy.

Hitchcock for dummies: brisk, jolly, well-played but oversimplified.

As with many high-concept horrors, it falls apart as it grasps for an ending, but there's still enough dread, and three great central performances, to just about carry it through.

Disappointing given the talent and situation, dull as ditchwater and historically suspect, another "The King's Speech" it definitely is not. Nice costumes, though.

Though the clumsy geometric tentacle that does most of the machine’s evil will cries out for morphing, this is remarkably prescient in its tackling of issues the cinema is only now catching up with, and Christie adds depth to the lady-in-peril heroine. Well worth reassessment.

A Twilight Zone–worthy premise, subtly sold by ace make-up effects, makes for a decent-enough thriller, intriguing in the moment but ultimately too timid to say anything meaningful about ageing.

A word of warning: this is not the knockabout comedy the trailer suggests. Instead, it cleaves closer to what you expect from Burton: darkness, quirk and Johnny Depp on great form. A step up, then, from Alice In Wonderland and Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, but not tip-top Tim.

A fairly dappy and overlong attempt to turn Prince the then emergent rock-funk superstar into a movie star.

So quirky that it’s almost in danger of collapsing under the weight of its own antic whimsy at times, but a comic delight destined for cult adoration.

Pelham One was first class. Pelham Two stuck to the schedule. Pelham Three needs a bus pass.

Another mean, violent and decently acted slab of Ellroy-flavoured criminality, with an impressively battered Keanu Reeves, but Ayers is no Curtis Hanson.

A fast-paced, entertaining, if somewhat on-the-nose mélange of thriller, satire, and drama, this is Jodie Foster’s best movie as a director. And we’d happily watch any TV show George Clooney wants to host.

A glowing tribute to The Beatles and their music, this is both a toe-tapping pleasure to watch and a smart, occasionally scathing look at how we get things wrong.

Although AWIL's comedy/horror elements aren't always cosy bedfellows, the film retains its original, quirky charm. Great effects for the day, too.

Michael Bay’s tribute to the emergency services (which involves blowing several of them up) is noisy, messy and frequently absurd — yet still somehow his most gleefully entertaining effort in at least a decade.

Election Year maintains the nervy tension that made the first films entertaining, but doubles down on the political metaphors, overwhelming you with its soap-box rhetoric.

Justice hasn't been done. The heavens haven't fallen. But skilfully prodding and probing at the edges of America’s greatest crime scene, Oliver Stone reinforces the argument that this was far from an open-and-shut case.

Some Host or DASHCAM fans might be disappointed that Rob Savage has opted for something ostensibly more conventional — but The Boogeyman shows he can also make an involving, ungimmicky ghost story with perfectly constructed menace and mayhem.

Making no secret of the fact that he has "freely adapted" the novel, writer Jean-Claude Carriere and Milos "Amadeus" Forman have come up with a visually mouthwatering epic treatment: beautiful, opulent, sumptuous.

It may come dressed in borrowed robes, but this is a no-holds-barred horror with real bite — and surely the start of a new franchise.

A new take on Peter Pan that actually works, delivering all the visual richness you’d hope for from the film-maker behind Beasts Of The Southern Wild.

It can be seen for what it is: a well-crafted entertainment that boasts excellent performances (particularly from Dillane) and fully engages the mythology of sport, reminding us that in its transcendent moments, even a tossy one like golf has the power to capture the collective imagination.

With suitable suspension of disbelief this makes for agreeable enough nonsense.

Page shines bright in an otherwise formulaic story, but this is still a thoughtful, sensitive portrait of a young man coming to terms with his sense of self and the love he deserves.

Not to everyone's tastes then, but for fans of the show - big, big laughs.

This does a serviceable job homaging '80s actioners but not a whole lot more. Go for the explosions, zone out for the plot.