Impressive because Loach keeps things simple in an accurate social study.

Good intentions, but dull and predictable.

An excellent debut from director Hytner. The real treat, though, is Hawthorne who, whether lecturing his family on regal responsibility or taking a dump in front of the PM, gives what is undoubtedly the performance of his career.

Relatively speaking it's nonsense, but very cute.

So so adaptation of the Kipling story. The human performances are riotous but their animal counterparts are blank canvases yet to be coloured.

Even by their high standards, the performances of Weaver and Kingsley here are impressive, and Polanski ratchetts up the tension nicely. A chilling and thought-provoking piece.

It comes across as a man's eye view of what a women's film should be like, and although it's not altogether clunky, you can't help but feel that in the hands of a more sympathetic director it could have been something really quite special.

You should feel sorry for the memory of Julia - whose swansong this is - but actually it's Van Damme who commands sympathy.

This is full to brimming with doleful pathos and a potent cast.

The beginning of Steve Martin's non-funny comedies. Ephron should know better as well.

It's beautifully mounted to capture the age and the passing seasons, though director Gillian Armstrong never lets the production values overwhelm the gentle sketches of girlish hopes and pastimes tempered by the trials of life.

Another dose of Culkin charm.

Genuinely gripping, Demi makes an awesome femme fatale.

The film never sentimentalises the old swine as it explores the nature of his genius. Terrific ballplayer, miserable human being. Unworthy subject, great movie.

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

Exquisitely shot, superbly acted and deftly written, this is easily one of the best arthouse films of the nineties.

A daft movie, but one not without its moments of healthy radiance, spurred on by some bristling gags and a welcome comic return by Emma Thompson as a gauche fellow doctor caught in a romantic sub-plot.

Devoted Trekkers will have to see it to keep abreast of the ships’ logs, but Saturday night at the flicks fun-seekers are apt to concur this one only fires on stun.

Taut, clever, and fronted with two excellent performances, this is a clever choice for Jackson's first step into mainstream filmmaking.

Bold, gruesome and melancholic, this Gothic horrorfest offers us much to sink our teeth into: Cruise - who effectively disappears from the screen for half the film's duration - is terrific, Dunst eerily compelling, Banderas hypnotic.

The film drops from obvious comedy into a ready melt slush which no amount of make-up and special effects can rescue.

Sumptuous to look at, with some decent performances but Branagh's attempt at this gothic horror just doesn't hold together convincingly and fails to engage.

Smith's script simply crackles with an endless succession of humorous gags and on-the-ball observations while Anderson's brilliant performance as the shop assistant from hell is worthy of a film 100 times as expensive.

A scintillating piece of filmmaking, the kind of movie you look forward to seeing again even as you're watching it, and an extraordinary response to both the Dogs-Is-Overrated brigade and the He'll-Never-Top-His-Debut sceptics.

A truly great documentary.

Genre thrills with a big dose of originality.

Exciting in parts, Meryl Streep and Kevin Bacon doing their best, but arc of suspense doesn't quite bring you to the edge of your seats.

Van Damme once again bends and twists his muscular frame to superhuman excess, but his Belgian tonsils have all the flexibility of the Himalayas when it comes to splurting out his one-liners.