Though its core concept is executed well, Black Crab’s dour tone, shallow writing and derivative plot-beats make for a movie experience that leaves you as cold as the ice its characters are forced to skate on.

A strangely drab adaptation of Diderot's much racier novel.

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

Convincingly sozzled performances but, like Bukowski's poetry, there is little meaningful here to take away.

Despite a handful of cool moments, The Killer’s Game turns out to be one not worth playing.

The truth is, it’s not very good – and entirely without scares. But we dare you to watch it without unleashing a few unintended laughs along the way.

A solid performance let down by a script that cherry-picks the facts and ultimately tells us less than we already know. Watch Asif Kapadia’s Amy instead.

A handsome murder mystery with a neat literary twist and an impressive turn from Harry Melling, but which is overcast by the gloominess of its protagonist and the implausibility of its revelations.

About the dumbest movie Clint Eastwood ever put his name to.

At once explaining too much and not enough, this middle segment of the trilogy fails to amp up the stranger danger. Perhaps the scariest thing is the end title: To be continued…

Never content with one cliché when it can shovel on ten, Romeo Is Bleeding — to borrow a quote from the film's own press notes - "would be a comedy if it weren't a tragedy".

A humdrum remake of a crackerjack thriller, this never gets out of second gear despite a classy cast and intriguing premise. Credit to Dean Norris for playing a character called Bumpy with an entirely straight face.

Pretty much cardboard, down to the heroic patriotic speeches, and less distinctive even than last year's scarcely stellar "Skyline," which trashed the same city. Things blow up good and Eckhart is a classier actor than his role warrants, but we've all been here before.

Funny and occasionally original, this suffers only from too close a resemblance to its rock forefather.

Let Him Go starts languid and builds to a tonally at-odds finale, with its stars looking curiously unengaged. This is what happens when slow burning never really catches fire. Still, Lesley Manville is on fire as a memorable backwoods-y crime boss.

The setting is glorious and Dormer is on form, but the scares can’t match either.

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.

After the disastrous "The House Of The Spirits," Bille August should know from experience to leave good novels well alone.

Flat and unfunny, this merits a second star based entirely on Scott’s cameo. Kev, get thee to a typewriter. You’re so much better than this.

This feels bigger and more cinematic than the first film, and sees a progression in the lives of the characters. But many of the jokes are beyond broad, and the Middle Eastern stereotypes are shockingly cack-handed.

A shambling, ponderous mess that aims to be a trashy cult classic and merely ends up in the trash - Fichtner aside. And, in the biggest disappointment of all, there's not even that much angry driving in it.

Little more than schmaltz and pitchfork-handed fisticuffs.

Flat as day-old beer.

An uneven thriller that would have been better served aiming for a lighter tone.

Brilliant in Prada, as a princess and now as a prison psychiatrist, Anne Hathaway brightens this limp genre exercise that mistakenly prioritises B-movie thrills over more nuanced character interplay.

It’s neither funny nor charming enough, proving a disappointing treatment of fabulous source material.

You’ll be jolted a couple of times, but these aren’t scares that will stay with you. How about retiring “based on a true story” in favour of “based on a good story”?

Fans of the book will be pleased that most of its highlights remain intact - including Dilbeck covering himself with Vaseline - but overall this is at best patchy, and, more damagingly, not funny.