An ordinary, forgettable horror film. Even the Devil deserves more than this.

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

The Keep wears its crap bits proudly on it's sleeve, its qualities are more hidden and emerge only once you've watched it, dismissed it and then found that it's atmosphere refuses to disperse.

Greater drama and prehistorical weight are to found in the earlier Quest For Fire or the BBC's Walking With Cavemen, and without so much as a trailer for extras, this feels like a relic.

However, it is probably the screenplay that is most at fault, and while "Demolition Man" director Brambilla again makes things look okay, his hands are tied with flat dialogue, zero comedy and not much caper, either.

Bottom-rung dreck.

The mammoths aren’t all that is wild and woolly in this innocent, old-fashioned, amusingly self-important, entertainingly mad, rip-snorting throwback to vintage Saturday matinee fare, with all the swell set piece thrills state-of-the-art technology can throw at it.

It’s fun to take another turn with Derek and Hansel, but they probably don’t have another season in them.

"Salmon Fishing In The Yemen" and "Chocolat" man Hallström is an old pro at navigating this kind of undemandingly dramatic yarn and does a pretty fine job with Sparks' story.

Unfortunately, half the time this feels more like an Omen parody than a chance to give it a great send off.

Even by the standards of animation, the logic fails here are impressive. But the bigger problem is the lack of charm, focus and original storytelling as the animals suddenly have to save the world instead of just surviving it.

A joyless and pointless remake. The new take on Bodhi and co. squanders a potentially enjoyable premise and rarely delivers, except on the occasional stunt.

As an unashamed B-movie, The Crush does what it says on the tin and entertains for an hour and a half. Except you feel kind of cheated by the supposed climax, with the build up proving more disturbing. Silverstone is convincingly equal parts Lolita and Norman Bates.

Enormous plot holes and a script that’s fatally light on character mean there’s few selling points beyond Jennifer Garner's corset...

An odd but frothily entertaining genre cocktail, which coasts on the charisma of its two biggest names and keeps things just fun enough to forgive its considerable lapses in narrative.

It could have been a tantalising coming-together of two icons of action cinema. Instead, The Iron Mask feels oddly anemic.

Die-hard fans may get a kick out of seeing the monstrosities of Silent Hill on the big screen. But this return trip to gaming’s most terrifying town won’t leave you scared — just bored.

Less a reboot, more a hit-and-miss cover-version. The cast are game, Applegate especially, but the laughs flatten like a deflated tyre.

Quan is typically charismatic in a film that underserves his talents: an action-comedy with a solid amount of the former, but not much of the latter.

Judd Apatow’s broadest film yet is a patchy collection of Covid-themed comedy cock-ups — but a talented ensemble of performers means you’re never too far away from your next laugh.

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.

The franchise squeaks past with a so-so sequel that barely improves on what came before. Our only hope is that at some point they'll have to hibernate.

Howell makes the least convincing black guy ever, his eventual contrition feels hollow and forced — much like the laughs.

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.

Despite some nifty Japanese style tricks and ghostly illusions this isn't scary. It's muddled, same-old mayhem, just with a more international cast going crazy.

Indigestible Christmas stodge.

Instead of bringing much-needed clarity, Allegiant piles on yet more bamboozling mythology to flummox and confound.

Cliché-ridden and full of plot-holes.

An old school romantic thriller that lacks the subtleties and sophistication of recent spy storytelling, be it on the big screen (Bridge Of Spies) or small (The Night Manager).

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

A well-meaning look at the issue of arranged marriage, garnished with some Hollywood star power, but it’s too meandering and sluggish to grip.

More ho-hum than ho ho ho.

Creepy rather than scary, and more a ghost story than a monster movie, this has a good heart but feels a little toothless for something with so many killer robots.

While Gibson and Downey work well together, Air America does tend to be slightly overcooked in the cheap laugh department at the expense of a meandering storyline.

A low-grade comedy that'll have Jonathan Swift turning in his grave.

It has all the required Police Academy staples and is one of the better sequels but this whole franchise is so dated that isn't saying much.

The fuzzy thinking allows for gorgeous outdoor photography and a few too many dead spots, but Seagal the director shows real muscle by staging one of the screen's best-ever exploding helicopters and allowing Seagal the star to spit out tough talk, as when he refuses to shoot Caine because, "I don't want to dirty my bullets."

Ambitious and visually impressive as a pop-video mash-up, but, lacking a strong emotional core, it doesn't quite cohere as a fully satisfying movie.

The Wrong Missy is a little hit-and-miss, but it’s funny and inventive, and Lapkus is good enough to make the word “zany” tolerable again.

Falls between romance and drama without really satisfying either.

Notwithstanding the efforts of a game cast, this is a grotesque miscalculation that disrespects the memory of those who perished in one of the darkest episodes in recent history by turning it into a piece of white-knuckle entertainment.

An interesting premise fails to ignite amid an underwritten central romance and some clichéd plotting. An often eye-rolling ride.

Williams' virtuoso hijinking and Daniels' Huggy Bearish bonhomie save this from complete ignominy, but we’ve seen it all before.

A mushy mix of sentiment and some off-key singing lets the air out of this beloved musical's limo tires.

This super-powered spoof just doesn't fly.

Slap a restriction order on yourself and don't come within ten paces of this hideous concoction.

This attempts to unite period drama and demonic possession, but feels tired and overworked on both counts.

Terrible, but not worth getting worked up about.

It’s glossy and at times goofily funny, mostly thanks to Johnson’s subtle comic skills, but the novelty of this messy relationship is really beginning to wear off.

A often grim vaudeville parade of Nashville's oddballs and ne'er-do-wells.

This will not appeal to everyone, whether it will appeal to anyone is another question. With dark humour from time to time, underneath an extremely repulsive concept, this is a relatively conventional horror movie.

Solid performances can’t keep this from being a tonally erratic disappointment. Here’s hoping the next Hoover adaptation is a little less regrettable.

Prepare to cringe and snicker whenever the characters are talking, but gasp when Shyamalan just shows amazing stuff.

The film has a real sense of a situation slipping out of control, with marvellous displays of hysteria matched by movie trickery that spreads the edginess to the audience.

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

Certainly not the worst of the endless stream of TV remakes, but given the unassuming, easy charm of the original, still wide of the mark by a country mile.

Jade tries so hard to be a serious, lush noir but, like the cheap sex it revels in, it is ultimately a hollow, anti-climactic experience.

Despite the usually dependable cast, this is a slow and ever-so-slightly dull affair. Try Bogart's 1955 original instead.

Everything that comes after the confident, dangerous first half-hour just makes you pine for what could have been as this devolves into ten-a-penny teen-lit sludge.

It looks attractive, and is enlivened somewhat by the soundtrack's obligatory disco dinosaurs, but those expecting any real insight into the 70s club scene will come away hugely disappointed.

Lola deserves detention; Lohan deserves better.

Separately the characters are annoying; together it’s unnervingly like watching one actress playing twins.

This is poorly shot, edited and scored, while any acting talent feels wasted.

There are atmospheric shots of billowing thunder clouds, priests on cliff tops, bloody stigmata and moody eclipses, but it all amounts to nothing.

However contrived this tenth Sparks-to-screen becomes, the emotions and chemistry outweigh the bull.

Haddish and Byrne play to their comedic strengths but Like A Boss falls foul of formulaic writing and a mistrust of the genre’s full potential. Stick to its groundbreaking peers for a taste of something sweeter.

Rubbish. Irish eyes will be hard pressed to grimace, let alone smile.

A creaky script which avoids tackling the morality of Castle's actions, while Hensleigh doesn't do himself any favours by slowing the film's momentum with leaden editing.

Good intentions, but far too earnest to appeal to anyone beyond those who believe you can fight a true crisis of the soul with a campfire and some Kumbaya.

The rapid-fire editing and glossy photography can't disguise The Fan's hollowness or De Niro's phoned in performance. A disappointment.

This is a leaden mess that offers only brief moments of respite.

The loyal fans — and they are legion — will trot out clichés like, “Leave your brain at the door,” and defend Age Of Extinction’s right to be nothing but a succession of varoom! and kersmash! sequences. For those who aren’t still blindly faithful to something they liked when they were nine, despite the colossal scale, there’s little to see here.

Could have been T2 with seraphs, or Assault On Precinct 13 crossed with Revelations. Instead, it’s a lazy genre bore. Doesn’t bode well for Priest, the next Stewart/Bettany film in the pipeline.

Painfully unfunny, I Love You, Beth Cooper is more likely to elicit the opposite reaction.

Pretty solid gory horror.

Even a cast boasting Oldman and Harrison Ford can't salvage his dreary, contrived corporate thriller.

A likable horror-comedy with a satisfyingly high splatter count.

As spectacular as you’d hope from a sequel to the 1996 planet-toaster, and as amusingly cheesy. You’ll enjoy yourself enough that you won’t even miss Will Smith.

Bond without the style and Team America without the bellylaughs. The moronic script and nonsensical plot are good for a snicker, though.

A little muddled and derivative but what do we expect, really?

Ambitious but very tedious and talkatively hackneyed, redeemed just a smidge by the money shots of a swarm of extras on horseback sweeping across the sands.

There were a few sci-fi movies in the 70s that managed to transcend the genre and become fairly well known in the mainstream. This weren't one of 'em and for good reason.

A stunner of unrelenting tension interrupted by action, violence and gore.

The ambition is laudible, but it's to little end. At once empty and impenetrable, this brings to mind a mix of John Carter and Dungeons And Dragons, regrettably in both themes and level of enjoyment.

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?

Sloppily structured, indifferently played and unbearably smug.

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

Only a thrilling throwback synth score from John Carpenter keeps this inferior, modernised take on Firestarter off the lower end of a list of Stephen King adaptations.

Like Guy Ritchie’s King Arthur, this tries hard to do something new and exciting with an old formula. It quickly makes you wish for something more traditional and straightforward.

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.

Tom & Jerry: The Movie joins Garfield , Yogi Bear and The Smurfs as misfiring attempts to combine popular ’toons with live action. Our kids deserve better. They deserve Tom & Jerry 1940-’58.

It takes courage and ingenuity to find the modern romcom formula within the operas of Gluck, sung well through SMS by Heughan and Chopra Jonas. It also stars Celine Dion.

This uneven but well-researched film takes a much more sober and realistic view than the Rambo-esque capers, of the hardships endured by shot-down Americans in conditions that were anything but Hilton-like.

A little reticent in gore gimmicks for the Final Destination crowd, but considered as a middle school between Goosebumps and Clive Barker, it’s just the haunted lottery ticket.

A competent suspenser, helped by the always-dependable Diane Lane, but it suffers by following the modern thriller playbook to the letter.

Lacking anything approaching originality, The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard is a generic, by-the-numbers action-comedy sequel. Praise be for Hayek, who at least gives it gusto.

An opportunity to exploit childhood nocturnal fears is missed in a second-rate horror.

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.