Curiously uninvolving. It never comes to life -- even after someone is found dead. Nevertheless, there are pleasures to be found in the performances, particularly in Eddie Izzard's lovelorn Chaplin and Edward Herrmann's paranoid Hearst.

Despite some dazzling animation, this is a mess of celebrity and corporate cameos that fails to capture the weird spirit of the ’90s original, or the ’40s heyday — more ‘suffering’ than ‘succotash’.

The topical nightmare has potential to get under your skin, but relies too much on familiar jump scares and easy violence to achieve anything long-lasting or truly groundbreaking.

If Danny Ocean and Barney Ross from The Expendables had a baby, it might look something like this — but should they?

A disappointment. A premise with much promise has been turned into a bland retread through YA’s most familiar faults — despite some bold efforts from Holland, Ridley and Mikkelsen.

Arguably worse than its sadistic absurdity is the depressing, limited scope.

Belying its title, this is a pretty flaccid offering which fails to gel the comedy stylings of Hart and Ferrell.

All style and no anything else, especially plot coherence.

Considerably better than its predecessor, the central four may give it their all but the people behind this franchise sadly don’t seem all that interested in their crime-fighting, pizza-eating heroes.

Squeaky clean fun for the youngsters in the family. Everyone else hide.

Splendid landscapes and interesting faces - the usual virtues of the Western - keep the film burbling along, even as the actual plot is falling apart.

A slight improvement on Expendables 3, Expend4bles still works better as character posters than a movie you have to actually sit through. To paraphrase the tag line, old blood meets new blood equals tired blood.

An improvement on Transformers 2, but then what isn't? To paraphrase the Bard, it's a tale, full of sound and fury and extremely stupid dialogue and nonsensical plotting and preposterous stunts and robots punching each other's heads off, signifying nothing.

As a last hurrah for a once great action icon, Rambo: Last Blood is a damp squib. Put your headbands at half mast and remember him from his glory days.

There was so much potential, yet when it came down to it, Coppola made his Dracula too old to be menacing, gave Keanu Reeves a part and took out all the action. So all we're left with is an overly long bloated adaptation, instead of what might have been a gothic masterpiece.

A curveball from the man who made "2012" and "Independence Day" and probably only a brief respite for the world's major cities.It's more of an interesting curio to a blockbuster career but there's fun to be had here if you look hard enough.

Wrong Turn has some decent booby-trap business but can’t find enough that is different to enliven the weary concept. But for the horror hardcore, keep watching once the credits roll.

Rambo could have been a satisfying romp - wherein bad dialogue and cardboard characters can be forgiven - but for the sin of making the main man step to the sidelines in favour of charisma-free fillers. Bad move, Sly...

Assayas' attempt to present a multi-perspective Polaroid view of Adrien and his circle fall back on the tired technique of abruptly punctuating grainy, handheld sequence with jump cuts. A disappointingly sterotypical French film.

As double-cross becomes triple-cross becomes quadruple cross, it all gets awfully trying.

A committed performance by Thorne along with some moments of directorial flair can’t offset the frustratingly dumb characters and shallow analysis.

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

Never has the term 'American Independent' so obviously been code for 'wholly miserable experience'.

Good intentions, vivid setting and TLJ on top form do not make up for a lack of anything truly compelling.

Trying so hard to recreate the stylish spy comedies of the 60's, Turner and Quaid pose unconvincingly as the couple in New Orleans when their maternity leave is cut short. Sadly they the required chemistry and their banter falls decidedly flat. The only redeeming feature is the support of Stanley Tucci.

It's a fine line between high art and overblown nonsense. Bizarre accents and annoying camerawork abound in this package of tripe which isn't sure whether it has just left the butchers or is on its way back.

Director Sullivan lingers too long in every photogenic location and drags out every incident as if he's making six episodes of a not very sparkling serial.

Deeply icky on many different levels, with Ross Noble's feature debut illuminated by stomach-churning effects.

Stylish enough, but the plodding story inhibits the smooth sophistication of the film's stars.

A muddle.

Despite the talent on show, there's little to distinguish this from any other bland family comedy.

Fortunately, the fabulous songs, performed by scads of contemporary artists, provide some relief in an overlong, overdone portrait.

This modern musical - with tunes written by Where Are They Now pop band ELO - falls flat on its face simply because the premise is so utterly ludicrous.

The type of movie often described as a fever-dream: weird, offbeat, otherworldly… An experience that also coincides with feeling ill.

The endearing moments in Kevin Smith’s coming-of-age cinema-fest are weighed down by underwritten comedy. Could have done with being more sweet, less salty.

Sugary enough to induce immediate diabetes, this is not one for cynics.

Quality premise, poor execution.

Handsome, well-mounted but dull, dull, dull.

The first couple of servings back in the day were fresh and fruity, but the franchise has been left on the shelf a little too long. It's occasionally entertaining to have these characters back in our lives, but for the most part this fails to party like it's 1999.

It gives you two Will Smiths for the price of one, but you still might feel ripped off by its clunky dialogue, thin characters and underwhelming action. Encourage your younger clone to avoid it.

Not as closely controlled as My Beautiful Laundrette, but still a purposeful cross-cultural comedy that raises a few questions alongside the few laughs.

Although there are some great moments (one for Nicholson recalling the toast scene of "Five Easy Pieces"), Penn's intentions lose their way.

Money can buy you happiness in this inferior remake - although its makeover storyline may please fans of "The Princess Diaries" et al.

As earnestly as they have tried to continue the formerly excellent spy series, everything Gilroy and crew concoct only serves to mock the excellence and passion with which Greengrass delivered his films.

A Pixney misfire.

An unbelievably long film for so little pay-off. More cowboys, please.

"The Notebook" may have had us blubbing but since then Nicholas Sparks adaptions have offered thin pickings for cinemagoers. For all Efron's boyish charms, this one could be the most ordinary of the lot.

There was potential here, but Frozen Empire is an overpopulated mish-mash, with too many heroes to wrangle. What’s left is a bit of a gooey mess. We’ve been slimed.

A promising idea that never develops beyond that.

Setting and performances aside, Damascus Cover is a forgettable spy thriller that bulldozes over its real-life relevance in favour of shoehorned romance and hackneyed characters. Less Mission: Impossible; more ‘Mission: Thrown Out The Window’.

If you’re going to take a hugely familiar premise and rely on easy star chemistry to sell it, you really need the right stars in the right roles and a killer script for all the killing. Sadly this ain’t quite it.

Rodriguez has fun coming up with some new-ish powers and there are knowing send-ups of superhero lore, but the takeaway is thin and forgettable.

Entertaining family movie for rainy nights and Christmas holidays.

Making a killer-doll movie out of decent component parts should have been child’s play, but this misses the mark.

Given that this is the first whacky comedy to come out of the Gulf War it’s a shame the whole enterprise isn’t a lot more tasteless, but the half-funny goings-on give that the script has been tailored not to offend a military machine on the point of massive war, perhaps at the expense of unpatriotic laughs. That said, it’s a pleasant enough time-waster, and doesn’t drag on too long.

Fine performances in this highly entertaining biopic confirm Mike Nichol's status as the director Hollywood wants to work with.

Thankfully Annaud's stunning direction takes in the beautiful scenery allowing a mild diversion from the scenes of romance.

A maudlin adaptation hampered by low energy and lapses of logic, The Secret Scripture does a disservice to the book it is based on, and the Irish history it plunders.

If you like your Bayhem pure and unfiltered, this one’s for you. Others need not apply.

Though Clay is unbearably watchable, the mis-cast director means this comedy would be better as an action flick - it isn't funny but the violence is well executed.

Torture junkies should remember it’s only four months to Saw IV -- so you can afford to avoid Captivity.

Lola deserves detention; Lohan deserves better.

Trivialising despair, it’s a depressing waste of a major cast, and an early bid for mess of the year.

The script fights well against the cliche-ridden plot but this is very average all round.

Too many false notes add up to a Nicholas Sparks-lite teen romance.

A dour, plodding experience that's cold in every sense.

A feminist horror flick that lacks nuance in its feminism and thrills in its horror. But it should be applauded for reinterpreting rather than just retreading the original.

Both heavy-handed and ham-fisted, this is a self-important morality tale where you can see everyone's uppance coming long before it arrives.

We’re all for true, inspirational stories of courage in defiance of evil. But sheesh, this World War II drama is at least as irritating as it is uplifting.

Though not without charm, and some splendid CGI, this scattershot grab-bag of good intentions results in a bit of an emotional flatline. This puppet will not tug on your heartstrings.

Verdict Spies, terrorists, remote-controlled bombs… Unlocked’s components are all too familiar, and it doesn’t put nearly enough effort into making them feel fresh.

Resistance fails to commit to anything: too confused to honour its hero, too generic to shine a new light on a crucial moment in history. Somehow, such a remarkable story is here made forgettable.

This collection of tired jokes is enough to prompt the question, “What day did the Lord create Spinal Tap II: The End Continues, and couldn’t he have rested on that day too?”

A film with a fishing metaphor for a title should have come with sharper hooks.

Only distinguishable from the original movie by its obvious cheapness.

Particularly disappointing given the names involved, it's only mildly amusing at best, and more often downright tedious.

Former US sitcom staple Ritter breezes through his undemanding role with gormless bewilderment, reacting rather than acting, while Dawber screams and hollers as the special effects - the film's real stars - bounce them from one side of the screen to the other.

Humdrum adaptation that should, given the ripe nature of its source material, have been much better.

This glimpse into a decadent era has its charms, but they’re mostly visual. While Pfeiffer and Friend perform well, the script is tonally confused and lacks edge.

Innately sweet, due to the high number of fluffy animals, but it has the gloopy emotion and silly plotting of a Nicholas Sparks novel. Nicholas Barks, if you will.

With its infuriatingly dim-witted characters and generic slasher movie feel, The Strangers: Prey At Night is a surprisingly tame and forgettable rehash. While its superior predecessor managed to boast chills, this only boasts clichés.

For the most part, Edge Of Reason is as saggy and well-worn as Bridget's big knickers.

A dreadful disappointment.

A largely uninspiring re-tread of a superior film, this has some decent moments and enough gnarly deaths to keep horror hounds vaguely entertained until the inevitable arrival of ‘Bird Box Santorini’.

The film's chill seeps into your bones like a ceaseless cold drizzle. It also suffers from uncomfortably weird tonal shifts.

A photocopy of a photocopy, this could perhaps be the nadir of the wave of decade-too-late comedy sequels. Only Thornton completists, and hopeless nostalgists, need apply.

As in Cocoon, the emphasis is on sentiment, feel-good and reclaiming the elderly from the scrapheap. But the performances are nowhere near as subtle.

A curiously bloodless account of a real-life disaster that has moments of gripping tension punctuating long stretches of fatally understated business as usual.

Alvin does high school rom-com and very poorly at that.

Less a three-lane pile-up than a minor traffic violation in a residential area. Three points for Waugh, then, and a £60 fine.

Reygadas' big ideas translate with mixed results.

“Nostalgia’s overrated,” warns this vacuous slasher with a wink. Trouble is, other than obnoxious new characters meeting immemorable ends, that’s all it has to offer.

Endless wordplay and dumb slapstick do not a rewarding animation make. Pun-ishing.

It soon becomes apparent, though, that the best songs were used by the first two films, leaving the third with a set of slightly underwhelming tunes.

On the Ferrellometer, Talladega Nights sits just above "Kicking & Screaming," when it should be redlining it up there with "Anchorman."

Brawny but brainless techno-twaddle.

It offers the bones of a compelling story, but one-note characters, riskless storytelling and creaky pacing prevent this film from making an impact. This is a prescription best left unfilled.

Even with The Exorcist in the world, there is still scope for a contemporary, shocking and thrilling film to be made on the subject of possession. But this is not it: some found footage should really just stay lost.