A wry, sharp and never self-serious take on pop stardom.

A cute, warm-hearted indie darling this is not. Twinless is an uncomfortable, pitch-black comedy you won’t be able to look away from, with a career-best performance from Dylan O’Brien.

Despite Fischbach’s arguably admirable intent and exertion, this low-budget sci-fi horror makes Event Horizon look like 2001: A Space Odyssey.

It’s beautifully designed and pleasantly quirky, with fun performances from the cast, yet the arch narrative style and structure can make the whole feel thin and unsatisfying.

Okay, so it’s Cujo with a chimp and a pool instead of a dog and a car – but Primate delivers good, gruesome business and has a sense of fun. Solid horror hokum.

An obsequious, ring-kissing portrait of the current US administration, dressed in gauche, glossy reality-TV clothing. And yet somehow still better than Rush Hour 3.

Essentially “Men will literally do stand-up rather than go to therapy”, in cinematic form. An appealing tragicomedy-drama, told with veracity and heart by Cooper, Arnett and Dern.

It’s another spin on the usual Statham actioner, solidly performed but with a ridiculous plot and – even by the standards of the genre – a predictable outcome. Less gimme shelter, more gimme a break.

Die-hard fans may get a kick out of seeing the monstrosities of Silent Hill on the big screen. But this return trip to gaming’s most terrifying town won’t leave you scared — just bored.

Gnarly, gross and delightfully unconventional, this is exactly the kind of Sam Raimi film his fans have been waiting for, carried by a committed, no-holds-barred Rachel McAdams performance.

A profoundly affecting story of doomed love and lost time that boasts captivating performances from Mescal and O’Connor. Come for the boys, stay for the magic of storytelling through song.

It has aspirations to be RoboCop but this feels more like autopilot. Pratt is committed and the plotting is sometimes effective, but Rebecca Ferguson’s non-Dredd-ful judge is the only good reason to watch it.

It might lack the edge of Godard’s own movies but this courses with love for cinema, creativity, youth, Paris and ’60s cool. Film history is rarely this charming.

A birdie biopic that’s too keen to avoid ruffling feathers, Lowthorpe’s film still boasts two brilliant lead performances — a magnificent Foy and an even more majestic Mabel.

Cut it, print it. These are brutal executions, brilliantly executed. Director Park has said he wants No Other Choice to be his “masterpiece” and he may well have done it. Hopefully he won’t be jobless any time soon.

About as powerful as cinema gets. Its hybrid blend of documentary audio and devastating dramatisation is heart-wrenchingly, shatteringly effective.

A gripping, zig-zaggy potboiler, this is a crime thriller in the old-school tradition, with some enjoyable turns from Boston’s finest, Matt Damon and Ben Affleck.

The execution doesn’t always keep up with the premise, but Fraser is an affable guiding light in this crowdpleaser about the complexities of connection.

Just lovely. Tourette syndrome has not been afforded its cinematic dues, but what an affable, funny character to explore it with in John Davidson — and what a performance from Robert Aramayo.

Simpler, but also bolder and bloodier, than its predecessor, The Bone Temple is a more-than-worthy sequel.

A bold and tender story well told, and elevated by its personal nature. This is a strong debut from Gharoro-Akpojotor — she’s one to watch. 

A true original: an impressionistic portrait of a lost life, recreated in multiple forms with a gorgeous soundtrack. Odd, but unique.

Despite good performances from El-Masry and Brosnan, this fails to pack the heavyweight knockout punch it sorely needs. Judge’s decision: a narrow loss, on points. 

Paying fitting tribute to a photography legend, this slice-of-life film is a delectable treat, with among the best marriages of the ordinary and the transcendent since Perfect Days. 

With strong performances in service to a clear, confident vision from Chloé Zhao, this is a wrenching contemplation of the “undiscovered country” of death and grief.

Boasting more star power than all the Anacondas put together, but noticeably fewer laughs, what could have been a fresh take on familiar material ends up a regurgitated mess.

Ultimately, overlapping notions of family, cinema and healing are neatly tied up in an arresting and heartrendingly gentle finale that will leave an ache in your chest. Stripping dialogue and editing flourishes away, Sentimental Value’s final note is a showstopper.

As absurd as their story is, it’s hard not to be won over by Lightning & Thunder. You will have Sweet Caroline stuck in your head for what feels an eternity afterwards, though.