I have to hope that sooner or later the bubble will burst, and a film as insulting to audience appetites and intelligence as this will be some sort of larger lesson for Hollywood. Probably not though. There’s always another D-tier comic book character waiting in the wings for their spin-off moment.

There’s a joke where people say, “This film’s plot could’ve been written on the back of a napkin!” Yet for Sonic 2, a napkin seems like the equivalent of multi-volumed antiquarian tome, as there is so little of substance to this depressingly rote endeavour.

Ambulance is just delightfully unhinged in its experiment to see how much carnage can be caused by just one car chase.

It’s a character study for the ages, with Reinsve, Danielsen Lie and Nordrum delivering three magnetic turns.

Buoyed by a strong performance from Regina Hall, it’s a thought-provoking debut from Diallo, but one, unfortunately, weighed down by hokey jump scares that undermine its much more interesting commentary.

There’s a lot going on, then, but the three stories don’t really mesh to significant effect, though what does bind them is that the menfolk are stuck in their ways, rightly but mostly wrongly, and the stoic women have to make the best of it.

It’s undemanding, dramatically inert and, although class is very much on its agenda, one-dimensional in its depiction of the golfing establishment’s stuffy elitism.

Most remarkable about Deep Water is the fact that beyond being a sexy and gruesome thriller, it is also an absolute riot.

It’s with a strikingly minimal amount of dialogue that Haider Rashid’s Europa poignantly evokes how those bearing the brunt of state violence enter a physically and emotionally soul-destroying state of purgatory.

Even with its artsy cinematography, this feels like Audiard’s least self-conscious work to date, a playful reminder that the kids aren’t alright, but they’re feeling their way through.

While other men move through then out of the picture, Rogowski holds everything together with an exquisite deftness that is often emotionally overwhelming.

Paxton is masterful at creating an atmosphere of dread, using precise framing and powerful chiaroscuro lighting to toy with symbolism from Japanese folklore, Greek mythology and modern art.

It’s a worthy subject confidently handled, but without a more textured landscape, Hive feels more isolated than it could be for the community its title refers to.

Vibrant, wicked and welcoming, [Baker] is putting these people on the map like nobody else.

With all of its visual delights and expert use of its colourful onscreen spaces, its ever-a-shame that it’s the latest Pixar movie exiled to Disney’s streaming services – because it’s one of their best animated movies in years.

With five decades to plow through, director William E Badgley manages to skilfully compact the Rebel Dread’s political awakening and leftfield creative escapades into an insightful document of an integral fragment in British pop history.

With Ali & Ava, Barnard triumphs in presenting a romance tale that is deeply grounded, yet in its well-matched leads and heartfelt story, still possesses the magic required to sweep the audience off its feet.

There is a lack of catharsis in the conclusion which, to the film’s credit, feels apt. It’s a powerful story with no easy way forward for anyone concerned.

Maybe he doesn’t have the cunning of Keaton or the brawn of Bale, but in his own unique way Pattinson’s Batman feels perfectly adapted for the uncertain and unjust times we are living in, where greed and impunity are the order of the day. And if the film itself isn’t totally original, it at least spreads its latex wings in some fun and surprising ways.

It’s an imperfect but enjoyable adaptation, with Wright, like Dinklage, delivering something charismatic but insubstantial.

A jolly throwback to a time when flip, breezy British comedies came freighted with substance, and lots of charismatic performances to boot.

There are numerous moments where all the signposts point towards a saccharine dirty bomb, and thankfully, the film seldom allows those to detonate.

It’s gripping in the moment, but with plenty to take away for afterwards. Genius really isn’t too strong a word.

Perhaps a little slacker than some of his previous outings, but Panahi’s commitment and courage shine through.

Fascinating in its balance between microcosm and aerial view, but the performances definitely raise more emotional heat.

With so many layers to unpack, this one stays with you.

There are a few moments of strain and not every gag is comedy gold, yet overall it certainly tickles the cross-generational funny bone and Shaun himself, irrepressibly naughty yet affectingly open-hearted, remains a fluffy icon for young and old alike.

There’s a cumulative emotional impact, generated by the fond recollections of everyone who loved him but couldn’t save him from what he was going through, and marked by the extent to which so many of them are willing to share precious private moments.