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.

An animation that never drags itself out of mediocrity despite the best efforts of gifted animator Tartakovsky.

Disappointing given the talent and situation, dull as ditchwater and historically suspect, another "The King's Speech" it definitely is not. Nice costumes, though.

Despite some lovely cinematography and interesting insights into what makes the Parisian landmark so special, Eiffel is a forgettable forbidden love affair.

But what starts out so promisingly with some witty one-liners loses itself in the middle and finally descends into a slapstick routine that cries out for a touch of sophistication.

It must be hard for actresses as unconventional and gutsy as Weaver and Hunter to find scripts worth making. Although this offers them both meaty parts with plentiful neuroses and snappy lines, it is otherwise a completely mechanical load of old cods.

Certainly crude and unrefined are among the adjectives that apply to this sex farce, along with derivative and shallow. Most important - and perhaps, sad -of all, is unfunny.

Some fresh ideas spruce up this horror, but it’s an ambitious debut which forgets that less is more. A lack of focus is the real killer.

Another violently unsuccessful attempt to bring this comic book character to screen.

The result reaches overload very quickly, squandering the potentially cool premise in a headlong assault of set-piece over story.

Bel Canto pushes a hard message about cultural misconceptions and boasts a promising and diverse cast, but only really makes an impact in the first and final minutes.

Midway is a big, bold, brazen attempt to detail one of World War II’s most significant moments. But in a post Saving Private Ryan-Dunkirk landscape, it feels astonishing anyone is still making war movies like this.

Director John McTiernan rigorously avoids anything that might conceivably be exciting.

Here's a film consisting entirely of things you've seen before. Especially indebted to the hardly classic students-on-rampage sagas Class Of 1984 and The Principal, it even takes its title from a forgotten Amanda Donohoe DTV movie of a few years back. Furthermore, it's choppily directed by Robert Manel (School Ties) and toplined by the still-in-decline Tom Berenger.

Writer-director Jack Hill (Spider Baby) evidently didn't try very hard on this one.

The usually reliable thriller-director Lumet falls short. With an irritating score and bizarre performance by Martin Balsam, it's alleviated by a promising performance by a young Christopher Walken.

Despite the promise of the title, this a fairly stale offering, plodding through the beats of a well-worn subgenre but failing to add much more than a foul mouth.

Two charming leads don't make up for a comedy that just doesn't quite deliver the laughs it should.

There’s too much going on and too little character development for this to become a Christmas classic.

Despite delicate performances, the lead characters never escape stereotype, and the relationship between them, which should be the emotional heart of the movie, never becomes remotely convincing even on an I Love Lucy level.

A director who can't decide whether he's aiming for high comedy or gritty noirishness combine to shoot the whole caboodle squarely in the foot.

Maybe this would hit the spot for a Sunday-night sofa slump but it’s more patronising than perceptive when it comes to portraying ageing. As disappointing as a stale scone.

Radcliffe menaced by a hostile bush is far more entertaining as innuendo than actual drama. What might have been Deliverance in the tropics is rather a Dan versus wilderness yarn.

For all his ambition, Serkis can’t find the right tone for Mowgli and it becomes a very confused beast, neither fun enough for all ages to enjoy nor complex enough to be the visceral, grown-up thriller he nudges at.

A political football that arrives punctured and sputtering, this toothless class satire — an equal-opportunity offender — shouldn’t have pre-enraged anyone. It’s hardly the Hollywood takedown the MAGA crowd feared.

Though solidly made and bolstered by the always-engaging Daisy Edgar-Jones and Harris Dickinson, Where The Crawdads Sing struggles to live up to the promising popularity of its source material. A flat, flair-free and uninspiring adaptation.

The film seldom raises itself above the level of pleasant. And pleasant ain't sophisticated, and it certainly ain't sexy.

Delve into the story at your own risk, but embrace the unrepentant stupidity of it all and there’s a zen-like joy to be found in this screenvomit of adolescent violence.