The Thing is a peerless masterpiece of relentless suspense, retina-wrecking visual excess and outright, nihilistic terror, placing 12 men at an Antarctic station while a shapeshifter takes them over one by one.

Annie remains a heartwarming tale, with fine music and decent acting performances.

An unbelievably long film for so little pay-off. More cowboys, please.

A movie that's too patently "heart-warming" for its own good, and boasting one of the most revolting title-songs of all time.

Definitely of the so-bad-it's-almost-good genre, this kinda stands the test of time in a camp way, mainly because of the charm of Pfeiffer and Carrington.

It's a tale told with considerable warmth and humour, some spiffing explosions and a multiple-hanky act of self-sacrifice to round things off.

There are inconsistencies — why does a brand new house have the standard creaking door? — but the pace is so compelling that it is impossible to carp.

What matters is the affection Wang has for his characters and the portrait of assimilation represented by the characters the amateur sleuths encounter. Whimsical, certainly, but also generous, insightful and funny.

Gibson is surprisingly uncharismatic, but Miller makes up for it with whizz bang action.

The technique used here to plonk Martin in classic movies seems out of place given the kind of sophisticated effects we have on tap today, but there is a real sense of fun at work nonetheless.

It's easy to criticise Conan. Cheesy. Dated. And ever-so-slightly fascist (Conan is the ultimate Aryan: punishing the weak and defending the strong, while looking great in thigh-high boots). But while all that's true, for Arnie fans, the film still rocks.

Incredibly stylish and visually ravishing arguably to a fault Jean-Jacques Beineixís audacious debut has aged well.

The filmmaking is immaculate and the emotional wallop undeniable.

It's not exactly good, and it has some very bad scenes indeed, but the performances sometimes sparkle and the unusual happy ending -- scored with David Bowie's 'Putting Out the Fire With Gasoline' -- is surprisingly moving.

Brutal and brilliant.

It shouldn't work, but it does.

Edwards and Andrews insisted on using the picture to drive another nail into her detested Mary Poppins image.

Levinson’s self-penned 1982 directorial debut and the first of his “Baltimore films” is a disarming reminiscence on buddydom.

This is supposed to be serious hard-hitting but with most prehistoric depictions, only manages either school reconstruction or parody.

Reynolds was coasting at this point of his career, with zero risk-taking it ends up as a soulless, below-average movie.

Okay, so it does cloy in places, but there is truth in its fractures and its seals, a soft-shimmering landscape of real people.

For a kids film this is pleasingly dark with Gilliam delivering as much classical fairy tale as knockabout comedy.

Cowering in the shadow of the Picture Show, this sequel of sorts builds on none of the risks take by its predecessor.

Aesthetically beautiful and superbly acted, a sure sign of things to come from the leads.

A completely merited cult favourite of the avant-garde genre. This is surprisingly compelling in places.

A nice twist on the usual small-town-hides-sinister-secret setup, this offers some genuine scares and impressive gore.

It does slow down a bit too much for endless walking hither and thither scenes in the woods, as we ebb toward the grand reveal, but the mystery proves strong enough to hold you.

A war film without the war but with some interesting observations nonetheless.