Lovers of no-taste splatter movies will be in hog heaven.

Co-written and directed with sensitivity and visual flair by Anne Zohra Berrached, Copilot puts an intimate spin on the devastating events of 9/11.

Eyre’s all-star cast may shine in Allelujah, but even Dame Judi Dench can’t save a film whose third act so spectacularly nosedives into “Batshit-Craziest Story Choices Ever Put On Film Hall Of Fame” territory.

Fast, funny, very British and less militaristic than, say, The Peacemaker. On this evidence, we may be forced to say, Carry on, Bond.

Lincoln meets Sudden Death: a corny but raucous throwback to when Planet Hollywood was hip. Gary Busey popping out of a rose bush wouldn’t feel out of place.

Not even Halle Berry’s presence can enliven this stale sports film-family drama mash-up. By the end of it, the barrage of clichés leaves you black and blue.

Surprisingly sedate telling of the rather well-known tale from Catherine Hardwicke.

If you do pick up a penguin, you could do worse than experience Michell’s kind of spiritual and moral awakening. Still, the film is thankfully sharper and less cute than it initially appears.

A spirited gothic tale, played with welcome black humour.

A film that is entertaining but not seriously absorbing.

A black comedy with flashes of genius, but let down by a sharp slide into chaos.

Benicio Del Toro’s solid screen charisma can’t rescue Reptile, a derivative and lethargic thriller that rarely thrills as it tries and fails to build a case for itself as a meaningful iteration on the detective thrillers that it admires.

The emphasis on character in Rambo scribe Kevin Jarre's screenplay (aided by Vincent Patrick and David Aaron Cohen) gives the film unexpected maturity.

Efron gambles with his image, but he knows when to up the star power. It’s perhaps fitting that the film falls flat when he, playing a killer who loved the spotlight, leaves the screen.

Unworthy of comparisons to Hitchcock, but as a thriller it's not a complete failure either.

The dialogue is intelligent, but the humourlessness -- and the fact that most of the cast could use a good slap -- results less in involving drama and more in the viewer being held hostage in a 90-minute therapy session for the well-dressed and narcissistic.

Whoopi's affable clowning aside, this film has little more than the title and the bad-mouthed postponement of cliche going for it.

There is bound to be a large appreciative audience for this chick flick. But it might not be you.

Adam Sandler goes back to his Happy place for this unashamedly stupid sequel. What it lacks in precision or panache, it makes up for in sheer goofy, golf-y geniality.

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.

Sam Jackson delivers the electric blues in a not-so-blue movie that promises more Deep South sin than it actually delivers.

A competent procedural rather than the ground-breaking cybersaga we’d hoped for. But as with Miami Vice, Mann’s boundless style does a remarkable job of disguising the lack of substance.

Neither a luridly enjoyable piece of Scarface-style pulp or a nuanced genre subversion, Idris Elba’s directorial debut is a fitfully entertaining 1980s gangster thriller.

The Amazing Johnathan Documentary starts as a blast but as the journey progresses, becomes ever more slippery: Is Szeles tricking Berman? Is Berman bamboozling us? The answer is entertaining and frustrating in equal measures.

Sometimes cheap but largely cheerful, this is a fun stocking-filler for horror fans — with plenty of heart to pump all that blood.

If it’s missing the charm and Murphy’s magnetism from the first film, Coming 2 America delivers a broad, serviceable return to Zamunda.

Not quite as nauseous as its plot might suggest, Little Manhattan is sassy as well as sweet.

Once again combining a sense of genuine dread with a mischievous vein of humour, Insidious Chapter 3 successfully closes the trilogy with its beginning.