Part 4, to its credit, is the noisiest. Disappointingly, it's also the worst: not bad, just not as good.

If you don’t like Saw, this isn’t going to change your mind – but it’s skilful, satisfying schlock and respectful of its fanbase. And the final death is a show-stopping coup de grace.

A pleasingly intricate double (or is it triple?) revenge plot anchored by excellent acting, with a terrific burst of action at the climax.

Outdated and predictable revenge saga.

A family comedy lacking the double level of humour that make the modern ones so successful. The jokes are obvious but never very far away. Russell puts in a worthy performance as the irrepressible Ron and Martin Short is typically neurotic as the father.

Poorly written nonsense, but lovers of beefcake action will be happy enough with the heroes gymnastically vaulting monsters and slicing and dicing their way around the ancient world. An extra star for Ralph Fiennes, who is a god.

Sometimes this kind of comedy just goes too far into rubbishness to make it back.

High hopes of magic from the Gondry-Rogen pairing are dashed. Some neat touches aside, this isn't so much eternal sunshine, more superbad.

The target audience - pre-teen girls - aren’t going to notice the many shortfalls behind the camera. What they’ll enjoy, regardless of quality, is some naughtiness true to the spirit of the series, Russell Brand and Girls Aloud. For the rest of us it’s tougher going with mostly Everett and Firth to see us through.

A well-meaning but corny football fable.

A comic thriller that isn’t especially funny or particularly exciting, The Family Plan is an overlong slog that struggles to make use of its game cast.

Should be judged in context but even then it's a bit high on the melodrama and low on subtlety.

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

As sweet as a sugar plum and only slightly more nutritious, this shows scars from a tumultuous road to the screen but still emerges as a whimsical, likeable fairy tale.

It's like "The Bridges Of Madison County" with more shouting, only not nearly as good. No surprises whatsoever, but nice scenery, attractive stars and another credible, affecting performance from Lane that hoiks it up an extra star.

Further complicating the already indecipherable lore of the first film, The Boss Baby 2: Family Business is nice to look at but unfunny, unengaging and unintelligible. May it grow up soon.

The cast is strong and the first act has an intriguingly dreamy quality, but it gives way to a soggy ending.

Peter Farrelly’s latest semi-serious effort is light, goofy and sometimes perilously frivolous. But like sharing a few beers with your buds, you soon warm to it.

Some developments seriously stretch credulity and the dialogue doesn’t always ring true. But the performances — including a sinister, matronly Kerry Fox — are as enjoyable as the tawdry film noir vibe.

Fun musical numbers and cartoonish humour give way to a bland sermon about the evils of the music industry.

Its popularity continues to confound critics everywhere.

Another deeply flawed, tech-forward endeavour for Zemeckis in which glimmers of human emotion only occasionally break through. Like Cloud Atlas for baby boomers experiencing late-middle-age malaise.

"The Karate Kid" meets "Fight Club" but it's no way near as good as it sounds.

Well-intentioned, with a strong performance from Andra Day — but uneven human drama eventually gives way to boringly familiar horror tropes. All round, The Deliverance struggles to deliver.

As a perfectly serviceable horror movie, it at least gets the Exorcist franchise back into respectable territory, but there was the potential for something much better.

Although evidently a rip-off — there were hints of Lucas even taking the matter to the courts — this spacebound wagon train, whose limits are readily apparent, is great fun.

Hardly promising but, thanks to James' winningly gung-ho underdog and the fat-man grace he brings to a pratfall, unexpectedly watchable.

The Darkest Minds boasts a decent cast and a fairly interesting premise centred on likeable characters. But its banality squashes any potential it had, resulting in a safe, forgettable sci-fi.

In the Insta age, this paean to body positivity and living your own truth is more than welcome, but you just wish UglyDolls’ message could be more charmingly argued, adroitly assembled and just plain funny.

Quality premise, poor execution.

Sub-Ludlum plotting but stylishly executed, this offers a fun night out but is far from a nailed-on franchise-starter.

It’s juvenilia, straight-up goofballing, but there is a tittering innocence at work here.

This is amiable enough and perhaps one shouldn’t expect anything more from the team that brought you Police Academy (writer Hugh Wilson) and Major League (director Ward). What really lets this down, though, is the uninspired plot and one-dimensional characters. While it’s true that this was never going to be a high-brow evening at the pictures, the air of familiarity it leaves behind proves to be a major disappointment.

Showing more enthusiasm than aptitude, this earns ‘could do better if it tried’ on its report card — but it’s a strange enough genre mix to be vaguely worth a look.

It’s occasionally funny, but the moments of sincerity are undermined by the unformed sense of grievance and bitterness at the whole wide world.

An odd, messy, misjudged shambles. You can’t fault the earnest tone or the plucky performances, but you can fault almost everything else.

The plot unravels in unwieldy dollops, and, despite some adequate special effects (for the time), the whole thing is really a bit of a bore.

Gerard Butler stars in a very good film where he helps a guarded woman get over a tragedy in her past. It’s called "Dear Frankie" - go rent that instead.

You know Freddy may or may not be finally dead, but he's looking pretty damn tired.

Annie remains a heartwarming tale, with fine music and decent acting performances.

Not the return to form you might have been hoping for. Its story might cover all the same beats as the 2003 original, but there’s little of that film’s spark or spirit.

Dear Evan Hansen gives enjoyable, tuneful voice to important modern-day concerns but lacks the dramatic and cinematic chops to really take flight.

Hugely impressive musical and dance performances from the two young men playing Michael Jackson cannot shake off the uncomfortable fact that there is an entire other side to the pop star’s story which is entirely conspicuous by its absence here.

A second-rate slasher, but it shows the odd bit of directorial promise and a great deal of ambition.

The world can only hope The Swamp Thing's abode is now bulldozered and turned into a shopping mall.

Not a complete disaster, but also not the vampire / werewolf mash we've always wanted.

A Pixney misfire.

"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.

Conceptually, this flop has potential for the satirisation of military responses to an alien threat, but it ís wasted in a loose script whose weaknesses are all the more glaring for the film's inability to exploit the power of absurdity.

If it thematically bites off more than it can chew, Random Acts Of Violence is a full-on, visually arresting horror. What it lacks in chills, it makes up for in ambition and style.

It’s nonsense — but at the very least, well-meaning nonsense.

A lot of fun.

All pout and pose, with no spine to speak of; a beast with no back.

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.

While the kids may sing a storm when at last they get down to mixing Beethoven, gospel and rap, in the good clean fun department this is monumentally weak and derivative.

A trippy mix of horror, thriller and sports movie, Him is a very wild ride. A launching pad for its director and lead, and a shining moment for Wayans.

Sadly the plot leaves a lot to be desired with major flaws never far away. The in-jokes are amusing but their novelty soon begins to wear thin.

A tense and nasty thriller, Mile 22 is a frustrating experience that makes you wonder if Peter Berg should stick to depicting real-life tragedies instead.

One of the problems is that King usually writes about cliche subjects so well that you don’t notice the hackneyed aspects of his books, and so when all the character detail, precise backgrounding and elaborate plot setting-up mechanisms are pruned away, all you get is a dumb TV movie with characters doing insanely stupid things to prolong the agony.

The look, created by Hooper’s cinematographer Daniel Pearl, and expert art direction is persuasively nasty… but somehow that buzzing saw doesn’t sound as scary as it used to.

It's not hard to figure it out, but Caruso manages to throw in some tense moments that almost -- but sadly not quite -- make up for the film's daft ending.

It's no "Battlefield Earth," but it's no "Dune" either. And, no, before you ask, it's not destined to be a cult classic.

The script is clichéd and uninspired, the tone veering uneasily between unamusing comedy and over-sincere drama, all theological issues are weakly circumvented and the characters hardly relate to each other, let alone to any of their onscreen activities.

Neither a Medellin-style disaster nor an Aquaman-sized hit, this pays decent fan service but an Ari-centric spinoff might have been the smarter move.

Director Alan Taylor handles the big action adeptly as he did in Thor The Dark World, but the script is an ever-decreasing cycle of tool-ups, chase sequences and daft monologues.

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.

Technically competent, but essentially a fantasy movie that mistakes industrial light for magic. As dragon movies go, Dragonslayer, Reign Of Fire and even Dragonheart can rest easy.

A weak shadow of Eddie Murphy’s action-comedy yesteryear, The Pickup would be better off being left unpicked.

Shadowy political trickery is one thing, fabricating an entire NASA mission is near impossible to credit. Get over that and it’s a whole lot of fun watching Hal Halbrook’s — who played supergrass Deep Throat in All The President’s Men — wicked scheming unravel thanks to the gutsy work of Elliot Gould’s tatty hack.

Unasked for, unnecessary but unexpectedly enjoyable.

There’s just nothing quite like a good crime thriller. But, despite Banderas’ best efforts and some stylish camerawork, this is nothing like a good crime thriller.

Sleepwalkers, Steven King's first original screenplay, is horror filmmaking by numbers. It has monster fiends, a few swooshing tracking shots, many a touch lifted from every self-respecting vampire movie ever made, and several weak but intentional laughs to indicate that no one here is taking the thing too seriously.

Sweet, slushy mush of a family film.

Like Paranormal Activity at a wedding - Paranuptial Activity? - this low-budget horror has its moment. Much, much better than Legion, although not as scary as the actual Book of Revelation.

It won’t win any awards for originality but Flight Risk is a fun, unpretentious, tight 91 minutes — especially if you’ve always jonesed to see Downton Abbey’s Lady Mary cream someone with a fire extinguisher.

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

Just don't walk in expecting to become a believer by the end.

The film seldom raises itself above the level of pleasant. And pleasant ain't sophisticated, and it certainly ain't sexy.

Top marks to Joan Cusack for her excellent supporting turn; commiserations to John Corbett as one-dimensional objet désir Pastor Dan -- unhappily saddled with the most tragic line to reach mainstream film for years.

An unsuspenseful thriller with shades of "Death Wish." Nicolas Cage's return to New Orleans doesn't even have a hallucinatory iguana to recommend it.

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.

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.

Derivative it may be, but with its echoes of "Speed," "Lethal Weapon" and "Die Hard With A Vengeance," this is a welcome throwback for audiences raised on '90s action flicks -- what they used to call "a pulse-pounding roller-coaster thrill-ride of a movie."

Touches on some interesting philosophical ideas, but it's poorly-produced and unclear in tone.

If you're after Sharon Stone in the buff, rent Basic Instinct. It's not a terrible way to spend an hour and a half but it just doesn't fulfill its potential. Stone and Baldwin try to get raunchy but find themselves in desperate need of a fluffer.

Unapologetically preposterous, but it is a (very sweet) fairy tale and Highmore is captivating.

Deeply misconceived and steadily unfunny, this feels longer than its running time. A few moments of emotional honesty between mothers are the only bits worth watching, but they're too scant to save this mess.

Not bootiful.

A thin soup of weak jokes and contrived drama.

A Rainy Day In New York hits all of Allen’s touchstones, has a few good one-liners and is well played, but it sorely lacks the wit, vitality and veracity of his ’70s/’80s heyday.

A very pompous version of the kind of nonsense Chuck Norris has been doing in far less embarrassing fashion for so many years.

Murray doing what he does best, if you like that sort of thing.

With a better story, director and support cast, Martin could have made Clouseau his own. Still, it's not as bad as the one with Roberto Benigni.

Amazing – a movie that somehow manages to be both irritatingly familiar and instantly forgettable.

If "Crash" set your teeth on edge, book in at the dentist's before seeing this one.

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.

Unashamedly rubbery fun.

Being over-stuffed and heavy-handed are not even Crossing Over’s biggest problems. That dubious honour goes to an absolute failure to address its nominal subject-matter in any meaningful way.