Spirited, amiable, featherweight summer fun.

Star Wars really does begin here.

This year's Dodgeball? Not a chance. Ferrell admirably tackles the so-so material, but it soon defeats him.

A note to Fonda: even thin, fabulous 67-year-olds shouldn't wear strapless gowns. It's scary.

A promising idea that never develops beyond that.

Cute, comical kids help make this ballroom dancing comp-romp a feelgood winner despite inexpert editing.

A true emotional epic.

A desperately sad look at two men whose determination to rebel against their heritage and succeed in their artform has rendered them unable to communicate. Compelling stuff, though.

A frustratingly thin epic. You're left wanting more exposition, more character development, the tidying up of loose ends.

Corbet emerges as an actor of sensitivity and depth, but it’s Gordon-Levitt who steals every scene as the damaged, destructive but ultimately sympathetic rent boy.

Sounds rather soapy and melodramatic, but director Susanne Bier, assisted by an able cast, ensures the traumas are painfully realistic and subtly observed.

A haunting, perceptive and uncompromising examination of controversial subject matter, expertly written and directed by Paul Haggis and characterised by excellent performances from its starry cast.

Mostly harmless. A very British, very funny sci-fi misadventure that's guaranteed to win converts.

A compelling, if obscure, experience with evocative scene-setting and dreamy atmosphere.

Solid, mature and finely acted, but intermittently daft.

Peet works hard with the slight material and there are some cutely kooky moments.

Despite the talking heads and grainy blow-ups of TV footage, the film boasts some rather gorgeous cinematography and moves briskly, with the interviews masterfully edited.

It's part satire of the drug-fuelled clubbing scene, part harrowing disability drama -- and almost entirely improvised.

This is a gentle, camp but nonetheless revealing satire on how a nation circumvented the social strictures imposed upon it by Franco's fading fascist regime.

It’s occasionally sick-funny, but large swathes are unforgivably dull.

About as good as a big, stupid American action movie can be without ever being anything better than a big, stupid American action movie.

Not a Farrelly brothers classic, and (some testicle-washing aside) not much in the way of their trademark gross-out humour, but the boys from Boston do an admirable job of transferring Hornby's story into the States and onto the baseball diamond.

Kung Fu Hustle pummels "The Matrix" trilogy into a puddle.

Interesting misfires from Wong Kar-wai and Steven Soderbergh barely manage to atone for the seedy muddle concocted by eightysomething Michelangelo Antonioni, who mocks his own reputation for existential ellipsis with his voyeuristic vignette.

For the guys it's Rodriguez's best film by far and a treat for fans of good-looking girls in black-and-white, of classic film noir and of imaginative ultra-violence.

This has the power to unite a female audience ready and willing to overlook its supposed weaknesses.

Mildly amusing.

There are films that demand sequels, and then there's Miss Congeniality.