Hogg stages some scenes with a sure sense of composition and dramatic tension but too often the film feels self-conscious and ponderous.

Brazenly exploitative stuff, stirring in anything which has done the business in kids' movies previously, this, of course, should have its target audience laughing like drains.

A meandering, unfunny, mostly flat effort, Hidden Strike is a disappointing waste of two immensely likeable stars. Head straight to the super-fun outtakes.

The moments of fan service might keep the hardcore happy, but for everyone else over the age of five it’s just a succession of loud, bright things happening without any real point.

A Sheltering Sky-lite romantic travelogue that, despite its two leads, lacks any real spark.

Had this adaptation of the young adult fantasy-romance taken a few more liberties, it might have been a home run.

If even a tenth of the care and attention lavished on the production design and action sequences had been afforded the script, this could have been an adventure of legendary proportions. As it is, this fizzles whenever anyone opens their mouths.

Over-reaching and unintentionally amusing, this is straight-to-video quality inexplicably delivered at blockbuster scale. A thunderous volca-NO.

Not fractionally as clever or as fast-paced as the television series upon which it's based.

While Landau, Aiello and a brief appearance by Christopher Walken do perk things up, it's a tediously indulgent, redundant work.

A low-fi indie that swiftly slums into terminal feyness.

Wonder Park has some fun bits (a narcoleptic bear) and a worthy sentiment around the value of going through tough times but it’s too hectic and untethered to land its loftier ideas. It aspires to be Inside Out but falls way short.

Watching Matthau and Lemmon in this vehicle is sometimes hard to stomach after knowing that they are worthy of so much more. Instead of making anyone laugh all it's poor, cheap comedy does is make you cringe for these respectable actors.

As action-packed as a holiday nap on a hot afternoon, this is a must-see only for Portakalos die-hards. Still, Vardalos’ sheer affection for the characters means it has a warmth that sustains it through weak jokes.

Unlucky for almost everyone. It's a sad day when a Friday the 13th remake is shown up by a My Bloody Valentine remake – couldn't they at least have sprung for 3-D?

The movie provides a fair number of laughs, even if you can't help wondering how many of them were actually intentional.

Exactly as ordinary as you're already expecting it's going to be.

Dialogue is all-cliché, a decent cast get not much to go on (if Wonder Woman put Nielsen back on the map, this does her few favours), and even the action scenes have a rushed, unfinished feel.

A film unlikely to do much for either the serial killer genre or motorway services tourist trade.

It's not just the saturated ultra-violence which make this film difficult to watch - there is something just not convincing about this vehicle for Costner's darker side. One thing is for sure though, driving a Jeep will never be the same again.

There’s a little bit of heart here, in the story of two people who have lost faith in Christmas for very different reasons, but more often this feels engineered in a lab to provide seasonal spectacle.

Far from the catastrophe the US bewailed, but still disappointingly clunky. Notch it between Eragon (below) and Dragonslayer (above) on a sliding scale of fantasy filmmaking.

Seemingly wishing to start another Conjuring off-shoot, this will be lucky to get out the gate. Without an original or fresh bone in its body, The Curse Of La Llorona smacks of unelevated horror for the very easily scared, not to mention pleased.

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

Ironically, given the mantra for its main characters is about embracing the weird, The Addams Family 2 does little that is out-there or different, delivering a safe, stale 93 minutes. Unlike that killer theme tune, it never actually clicks.

Commercially it looks a disaster. Artistically, if very far from a triumph, it’s interesting, almost held together by its charismatic stars.

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

Savage Grace is simply hysterical: a film as harsh, brittle and unbalanced as its characters.

More ho-hum than ho ho ho.

This is so derivative it has no soul of its own.

Standard-issue late-stage Netflix-era Sandler stuff: not exactly good, but goofy and charming in its own boneheaded, stick-it-on-if-there’s-nothing-else-on kind of way.

As twee as its title, Harold Fry probably won’t win over anyone immediately turned off by its premise. Broadbent and Wilton are as reliable as ever, but this tear-jerker mostly feels removed from real human emotion. It might inspire you to go for a nice walk, though.

Alicia Vikander gives a graceful performance and the lavish period production shines, but unfortunately this is more fizzle-out than fire-starter.

Despite Fischbach’s arguably admirable intent and exertion, this low-budget sci-fi horror makes Event Horizon look like 2001: A Space Odyssey.

There is a tender resonance in its cheesy sports drama operating with all the obvious moves.

There are plenty of fun CGI monster-skewering scenes, but a clunky plot, rigid script and equally stiff acting make this a crumbling disappointment, if not quite a disaster.

Overused, hyper-stylised pop numbers aren’t enough to mask the catastrophic misjudgements that Sia has exercised here. Were Music merely hokey it could be forgiven, but its ham-fisted approach to sensitive issues make this a massive misfire.

This is made with skill and thought, but this kind of character piece needs to wield a microscope, not peer down reversed binoculars: otherwise why bother? You will, however, find yourself Googling canal boat holidays.

The action comes thick and fast but the storyline is generic and Lutz makes a particularly dull hero. An Erymanthian bore.

This overwrought thriller is a pedestrian period piece that squanders its potential.

Less a hangover of a sequel than a satisfying belch to rid the world of the original.

It’s well designed and shot, but in service of a story that never coalesces into something intelligent or compelling.

This is simply more fairly generic and forgettable family fodder.

Destined to be an instant guilty pleasure, Cats is an insane musical experiment gone wrong. It is truly like nothing cinema has ever seen. The question is, is it something cinema actually wanted?

A typically formulaic seasonal sugar rush that’s only blandly mediocre, rather than so-bad-it’s-good. But Lindsay Lohan’s romcom-dominance cannot be denied.  

An inoffensive but inessential addition to Neeson’s latter-years thriller canon. Less the bus that couldn’t slow down than the car that couldn’t get started.

On such a limited level this delivers; if you take the kids, leave them to it.

An uneven debut from John Slattery that nonetheless shows flashes of flair and a jet-black sense of humour.

Brando rocks the boat with his dodgy accent and lowers the tone as history gets rewritten as vanity project.

Lovely visuals, but this is a rare miss from Sony Pictures Animation. Watch KPop Demon Hunters again, instead.

There's little tension or opportunity for emotional involvement in the brief story, and despite competent animation the cats are rarely anthropomorphised to good comic effect. One for anime - and animal - lovers only.

It’s not the fault of either star, but the half-baked script makes this an unsatisfyingly thin exploration of the weighty themes it seeks to cover. More intellectual cut-and-thrust and fewer flashbacks would have helped.

Both the well-choreographed crash scenes and the gritty cinematography hint at a better film. Shame no-one took the time to make it.

I Feel Pretty is an intermittently funny vehicle for Schumer’s talent that never really gets to grips with the ramifications of its high concept. Its heart is in the right place, but its head is somewhere else.

A great disappointment by the "City Of God" man's high standards.

While the script occasionally plummets to the nadir of un-funny, there are plenty of MTV-style pop interludes to keep the little ones from drifting, and a stonking version of Money (That's What I Want) by Zendetta that is reason enough to sit beside them.

Confusing and uninspired rather than completely inept, it’s still likely to be swiftly struck from the résumés of all involved.

Despite some warm performances, it’s very hard to ignore the feeling that this is largely just two hours of product placement.

Dull and often exploitative, Daniel Isn’t Real coasts on the familiar faces of its lead actors while wasting their potential.

Even The Rock's immense charisma cannot save this predicatable fare.

For all the special effects and half-starved A-listers, this is a sodden beast. Perhaps there’s a reason that Melville only told half the story.

This mess isn’t likely to reboot or revive the American franchise.

It’s just a waste. The premise is ripe for absurdity and the talented supporting cast have interesting quirks that might have livened things up if Shepard ever gave them the chance. Instead, aside from a few surprisingly gory moments, this makes the original show look good.

Fans beware - your fave two sci-fi franchises have been stripped of all their guile and maturity.

Despite some solid action beats and a story that skips from Sudan to Afghanistan, Paris and, finally, Guildford, The Old Guard is a trite revenge/conspiracy yarn, clumsily told (“That woman has forgotten more ways to kill than entire armies will ever learn”), and squanders a potentially engaging conceit.

It’s always nice to see Illumination outside of its Minions comfort zone, but Migration is mostly generic. A bit of a flightless bird.

Sporadically amusing but rarely inspired.

Sadly, this will not go down as one of Brooks' classics.

Ricky Gervais very much plays the hits in an undercooked but occasionally funny big screen revival that suffers from a crippling case of de ja vu. Brent’s last goodbye? You’d hope so.

One of von Trier’s most confrontingly horrible films is also one of his weakest. A story about a man disguising his lack of worthwhile contribution with violent self-interest is guilty of every point it’s making.

It should be a delicious chocolate gateau but Emma. makes heavy weather of Austen’s charmer, delivering a tonally uneven, mostly airless affair. Amy Heckerling’s Clueless — Emma in the Valley — remains the big screen benchmark.

Apparently unable to decide whether to take its own mythology seriously or not, this is a mess of sculpted cheekbones and incoherent romance.

The end result, while not entirely unrewarding, is another step away from the singular vision Cronenberg once expressed even in his marginal works.

Compared to its direct inspiration - Hal Ashby's blackly brilliant "Harold And Maude" - Restless comes off like an anemic facsimile. After the excellent "Milk," this is more like curdled cheese.

Van Damme's doubling up merely tends to make this movie, co-written and co-produced by the self-styled Muscles From Brussels, twice as avoidable as it would otherwise be.

Scuppered by a lazy script that fails to effectively build tension, Unforgettable lives up to its name, but not for the right reasons.

This plays like a collection of translated, stylised scenes rather than a seamless narrative that arouses one's sympathy with Finn or forbearance for Estella. File under well-meaning failures.

Not even a decent performance from Richard Attenborough can save this disappointing production.

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

Gloopy family drama meets Hollywood cod-spirituality in a movie that’s defeated by its over-ambitious scope.

Despite winning turns by Lewis and an on-form Goldblum, the laughs are in short supply.

Doesn’t deliver a sliver of the fun and thrall the ride serves up in a fraction of the time.

It's not as risqué as it wishes it were, nor as likable as it should be. Butler's rarely been better-cast, but the material's too patchy to support him .

Heroes in a half-arsed shell.

As the plot gets even worse than that of a bad serial killer movie, not even the OK fight scene at the end can redeem it.

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.

A frustratingly ungraspable movie collage compiled with real visual flair.

There is nothing reprehensible about Palmetto; it simply falls short of conviction because you're too aware you've seen it all a hundred times before.

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.

Even the excellent Gong has a tough time trying to twist her character into a tragic heroine, while the utter despair to which sympathetic characters are condemned suggests a significant point in Zhang's career, but does nothing to relieve the viewer's ennui.

All the boys might love Mandy Lane - discerning horror fans, however, will not.

The trouble with spoofing soap opera is that its dramatically deranged conventions - dead characters resurrected, hitherto unknown progeny claiming birthrights and bedrooms, characters metamorphosed into new actors - are already so absurd they are hard to send up any further.

In spite of A-list acting and directing talent, this is a tick-the-boxes recovery and redemption true story that never rings true.

Much like Parker’s career, the film begins with scintillating flashes of what might have been, but slowly deteriorates into waspish repetition.

Casting aside the forgettable ragbag of a cast, tiptoeing round the leaden script, and avoiding the story's many pot-holes (how come he only breathes fire twice?), Godzilla does provide plenty to look at. But that, for fear of sounding ungrateful, is all.

Isn't one "Wild Wild West" enough? Okay, so Jonah Hex didn't come with the same expectations, but it's still an object lesson in how not to adapt a comic book. A crushing disappointment.

Straining for significance at every moment, this is one of a wave of late '60s/early '70s Westerns that represent Hollywood's idea of the counterculture in love beads, feathers and picturesque gore.

It’s occasionally sick-funny, but large swathes are unforgivably dull.