A gentle and prettily appointed romantic tragedy with likeable performances; but there’s a stultifying blandness to proceedings and an implausible final act.

The votes are in, and it’s official: this largely unfunny paean to Eurovision is a waste of some serious talent. At least some of the songs are decent.

Director DeVito doesn't make his characters' cold-blooded decisions anywhere near as credible as he did in territorial black comedy "The War Of The Roses." Someone's losing their touch, it seems.

Despite the all-star trio and the rare joke that lands, Going In Style never hits its stride as a warm-hearted crime caper.

Not only do the pair have to prepare for the upcoming race, but, hey, they also have to deal with a hysterical mother, a dying father, and the knowledge that one brother is destined for the same fate as pops. Not quite as sickly as it sounds, with a fair few hints of the onscreen magnetism to come.

Though there are a few rather large nits to be picked from the sloppy plot - the action takes at least one unfathomable turn and, as a terrorist, Payne seems to have entirely forgotten to have a cause - if you enter into the spirit, this is thunderously good fun.

The big screen was where none of them had gone before, and you can tell.

Somehow less than the sum of its very impressive parts. Massy Tadjedin brings out the best of her strong cast but all the eyeball-melting beautyon display and the highly polished treatment of the story could have done with a touch of authentic grit.

It’s the tangle of workings-out not the easy answer that are the proof of a theorem, and that magnificent, sparkling, insightful chaos abounds here.

An energetic but erratic film that straddles about a dozen genres at once, none of them that successfully. One for those who like oodles of odd.

Crazy, Stupid, Love writer Dan Fogelman can't rebottle lightning with a humdrum comedy that doesn't play to its stars strengths.

Erotic at times, certainly, but that's down to the appeal of it's stars and not the minimal clean lines vs. heavenly bodies approach of director Adrian Lyne.

A preposterous, steroidal mess.

Credit goes only to its two stars that this is watchable, because the film is a derivative hodge-podge unworthy of their charisma. Just rewatch The Mummy and cut out the middle man.

The Boss Baby is hopped up on energy but never harnesses it effectively. There are laughs and heart buried in this idea somewhere. Shame the film is too hyperactive to find them.

Spooky, silly, and sub-90 minutes, Cobweb uses familiar elements to create an inviting, entertaining atmosphere — and when the horrors finally emerge in the final reel, it gives good splatter to boot.

The plot's a trippy, twisty mess, and it's far too long, but it looks fantastic and makes some bold choices in its execution. And once again Jack's back to save the day.

It’s another spin on the usual Statham actioner, solidly performed but with a ridiculous plot and – even by the standards of the genre – a predictable outcome. Less gimme shelter, more gimme a break.

Another winner from Daldry, this is an unexpectedly gritty crime drama set in the teeming favelas and grimy backstreets of Rio. A cracking script from Richard Curtis, with roughly 80 per cent of the dialogue in street patois, is brilliantly served by the three leads.

Fatima raises some intriguing questions about faith but sadly fails to make us believe in anything more comforting than the climate of fear, distrust and grief that flourishes during wartime.

Beautifully designed and voiced, this has a solid message at its heart. But it’s a well-told tale that’s suffers from being too well-trodden already.

Far-out touches and liberal application of metaphor are compensated for by intensity and two mesmerising performances.

Though it tries to be different, with hair's-breadth escapes that don't depend on implausible stunts or Bondian-scale explosions, Conspiracy Theory is an uneasy mix of laughs and thrills; suspense and soap.

The Campaign gets by on its stars' comic compatibility and a relentless stream of jokes, many of which are laugh-out-loud funny. The only real downer is the ending, which feels tacked on like a hanging chad.

Well-meaning but unfortunately misjudged, this clichéd melodrama is a minor stumble for Harry Styles’ continuing conquest of cinema.

With Clooney and Roberts cranking up the charm, even the creakier elements of Ticket To Paradise are watchable. A warm, witty, welcome escape from reality.

The humour, when it comes, is on a par with Reitman's Ghosbusters, but the film feels, rather than the solid comedy it is, like a massive missed opportunity.

More Oh Mama than Mamma Mia!