Jenkins is the kind of talent who can turn his hand to almost anything and Mufasa is a respectable film as a result.

It rewards the viewer with a sense of the vast beauty – and sadness – a fleeting love affair might provide. It’s a brief thing, maybe, but it also lasts a lifetime.

I didn’t want this movie to be dull – I would have settled for enjoyably bad – but unfortunately, it doesn’t even manage that.

To enjoy Rumours you will have to accept that despite its opening, its aim is not The Thick Of It-style political skewering, but rather bonkers, absurdist nihilism. In the apocalypse, it turns out, nothing means much at all.

When Heller is metaphorically exploring the potentially horrifying physical transformation of pregnancy and post-partum life – and the personal sacrifices of identity, career, and self that women face when they become mothers – Nightbitch has a lot of smart, real things to say.

It fails to offer anything new and lacks the original’s fearless spirit. It’s not a dud, just a muted version of its forerunner, getting you where you want to go, just with less wind in its sails.

Joy doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but it satisfyingly brings these stories to the screen in a typically prosaic, no-fuss British manner.

Paddington in Peru lacks the anarchic humour and originality that made its predecessors outstanding, but it’s all terribly merry nonetheless.

It joyfully expands on the source material with extended musical numbers and astute childhood flashbacks in a combination that will delight committed Ozians and newcomers alike.

Exhilarating, satisfying, classical with a touch of tongue-in-cheek: Gladiator II ticks all the boxes, and does it with panache.

A beautifully simple story of moral courage in the face of complicity, Small Things Like These is one of the best films of the year.

Mikey Madison gives a sparky, vulnerable, devastatingly real breakout performance as a strip-club dancer and sometime-sex-worker. Filmed with neon-lit nocturnal verve, Anora is as gorgeous to behold as it is deranged.

It is, all of it, glorious knockabout nonsense, a visual joy for kids, and exquisitely detailed for adults.

The patience and candid discomfort with which Almodóvar approaches it all feels fresh, the women’s relationship increasingly moving.

The film’s inability to find a single tone – comic, cathartic or otherwise – makes it feel like a failure on all fronts, and the constant intrusion of loud, obvious pop needle-drops (and even a full disco-dancing sequence) don’t help.

This film ripples with emotion. It is suffused with a sense of longing that lodges deep in its audience, even if we don’t always fully understand it.

A fresh Stephen King adaptation should be exciting. It’s a shame, then, that Salem’s Lot – a small-town vampire chiller set in 1970s Maine – has absolutely zero new ideas or even a particularly frightening take on the old story.

Glossy, grotesque, and intriguing even as you hate yourself for getting sucked into it, this isn’t an awful film. It just shouldn’t exist.

What a staggeringly stupid film. Joker: Folie à Deux is a sequel that did not need to exist. It’s an unspeakably self-indulgent, two-hour-plus beast of hodge-podge musical numbers wedged between drab prison and courtroom scenes.

Ronan’s performance holds our attention. She is astonishing in this role, able to harness both fragility and determination in equal measure. She dances alone as if exorcising demons from her body, pretends to conduct waves on the beach with unparalleled joy.

There’s a sense of tinkering originality to the film that feels unlike anything else being made at the moment.