Wolf Man isn’t quite as creepy or emotionally charged as its predecessor. Some of the dad trauma stuff is laid on a bit thick and the whole enterprise runs out of puff in its final third, partly because the titular creature doesn’t actually look very scary (at times, you sense a strong coffee and a fry-up would sort him out).

Director Scott Barber does well to present “the world’s sickest band” as a loving family of weirdos. Yes, they had issues. Yes, they fell out from time to time. Yes, they might’ve sprayed a little less sperm. But who amongst us can say any different?

While perhaps not as glorious as Lanthimos’ best, Bugonia’s shock and awe prompts a discussion about internet culture that hits worryingly close to home.

If this is the end of Luther, The Fallen Sun serves as the perfect send-off. It’s surprisingly grounded considering the leap from TV (a Dover ferry is about as exotic as it gets) but constantly ambitious enough to warrant the two-hour runtime.

There’s no big twist to speak of, but this is a white-knuckle thrill ride that’s up there with Shyamalan’s most gripping work.

The core Eno that emerges is one dedicated to the deconstruction of music and its making at a fundamental level, then recreating it in amorphous terms: feeling, landscape, peripheral perception, belonging.

With a uniformly impressive cast, spectacular scenes of carnage and the unshakeable feeling that anything could happen, this zombie franchise is as thrilling as it’s ever been. It’s well worth taking a trip to The Bone Temple.

When Momoa isn’t on screen and stuff isn’t exploding, the daft dialogue almost sinks the film into parody. Sure, no one’s ever watched a Fast film for the talking, but so much time spent between set-pieces means we only really get half of a film a here – the big final cliffhanger stopping just as it’s getting going.

Dawn Of The Nugget might have a bit too much Netflix polish in places, and the spark of the original film doesn’t ever burn as brightly here, but there’s still a lot to love about a family film pitched for the post-Christmas dinner funk that’s all about the horrors of the poultry industry.

At one point, he insists he’s not a workaholic but a “playaholic”, which might be the ultimate Macca-ism. In fact, that quip sums up his depiction in Man On The Run: goofy and a little corny, but always endearingly himself.

This might not be what fans expect from an Exorcist movie, but they’ll be even more surprised that it’s actually watchable.

BLACKPINK World Tour [Born Pink] In Cinemas is a fun reminder of the sparkle and strength displayed in BLACKPINK’s concert and a timely celebration of one of K-pop’s biggest girl groups, bright enough to tide us over until the four-piece are back on stage in front of us again.

DeVidas’ film might be a difficult watch but, as well as serving up a reminder of the horrors of addiction, at least it gives us plenty to be grateful for too.

Schoenbrun’s film never feels derivative; instead, there’s something fresh and exciting about it, despite the almost deliberate slow-burn feel to its pacing.

It’s not just a case of the cast stitching a smooth modern tapestry out of Barker’s patchwork of inspirations. His dialogue, though dense at times, is sharp and pithy. Clever, sparse lighting adds mystery. And the way he uses sound, almost as a jump-scare on its own, feels unlike anything you’ll see this year.

Sinners really comes to life via the musical numbers.

It’s silly, giddy and a little bit disgusting – just what we want from Beetlejuice.

Anderson and co-writer Roman Coppola have great fun with the idea, channeling 1950s B-movie vibes. Like all of Anderson’s work, it’s very affectionate, even if every camera move appears to have been calculated with the precision of a mathematical equation.

There are as many ‘Hallelujah’ stories as people who’ve listened to it, of course, but in pinpointing a precious few, Hallelujah… does a fine job of unravelling just some of the song’s multitudes.

To say any more would spoil the film, but rest assured this is top-drawer MCU.

This isn’t a perfect film, but it is a funny, fascinating one with terrific performances from Kidman – surely the bravest A-lister around – and Dickinson as an inscrutable wildcard. You’ll submit to Babygirl’s machinations willingly and thrillingly.

With polished visuals and an experienced cast, director Hur Jin-ho concocts a morally complex work that will both challenge and reward viewers.

There’s no denying this is a powerful portrait of grief driven by a shattering performance from Buckley.

A lively, in-depth examination of the fascinating and important heavy metal icons, this Ballad is well worth listening to.

Kravitz, making her directorial debut, knows exactly how to drip-feed information, until it dawns on you that it’s all about to get very bad indeed.

Gyllenhaal clearly loves losing his mind as the nice-guy/bad-guy with a mad streak, and Abdul-Mateen grounds it all in some kind of sticky morality, but it’s González that holds the film together from the backseat.

Much of One Hand Clapping feels like the knowing performance video it was always intended to be, but it’s these behind-the-curtain glimpses that stop you blinking throughout for fear of what you might miss.

Sarnoski has crafted a tonally cohesive but low-key drama that happens to be interspersed with moments of white-knuckle terror. Appropriately enough, A Quiet Place: Day One is more of an urgent whisper than a shout.

If you’re already a fan, the next few weeks will be spent making playlists of lesser-known B-sides or reading the lore around a scene you weren’t familiar with. And that’s why it was a good idea to make this film – a mad idea, but a good one.

If you meet Wuthering Heights on its own terms and give yourself over to Fennell’s bold vision, it’s hard not to get swept up in this gothic tale of toxic attachment.

Nouvelle Vague is made with the precision of a super-fan.

Hardcore horror fans should expect less of a full-on festival of bloody carnage and more a new-school chiller in line with the first two films by Ari Aster (Hereditary, Midsommar) or Jordan Peele (Get Out, Us). Regardless: for a top-ranking summer fright from Down Under, don’t miss Talk To Me.

To some degree, blur: Live at Wembley Stadium is more like watching a bunch of teens successfully pulling off their first gig than 50-somethings at an all-time career high. It’s this mischievousness that makes them so endearing to watch.

Apart from the occasional prickly moment of sadness, It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley is largely celebratory.

Peel away the astonishing cinematography and megawatt live performances, and it’s a frank account of the artist’s rapid ascension, as she navigates the scrutiny that comes with being a young woman in the public eye.

Director Matt Reeves has mixed up gritty mob drama with film-noir detective thriller – and thanks to Dano’s ultra-creepy villain, some psychological horror too. Most of the time it comes off brilliantly.

It all adds up to a superior Wes Anderson confection: the surface gleams with a retro sheen, but there’s enough going on underneath to leave a lasting impression.

Unlike scmaltzy American romcoms, Allen-Miller never oversells the romance as something bigger than two Londoners out enjoying a crazy day together. Instead, she takes an everyday love story about normal people and injects some big-screen fun into it.

At times, Jay Kelly does smack of self-indulgence but a sharp script and beautiful acting keeps it consistently entertaining.

It’s definitely the sexiest film of 2022 so far, but also the one with the most heart.

If Caught Stealing’s not quite a home run, it is a nail-biter that’ll have you hooked until the final play.

It’s a staggering feat. In the space of one seamless performance, Swift is at turns a playfully eccentric artist, a country star and a genuine pop icon. Yet for all the spectacle, it might be those acoustic songs that linger longest in the memory.

Lynne Ramsay directs the hell out of this intense, twisting story.

True, Becoming Led Zeppelin is never going to do anything but celebrate, given it’s an authorised take on the band. But there’s warmth and good humour here.

It’s honest and unflinching, tough but not witless and, for the most part, an immersive, overwhelming sensory experience. It should be compulsory viewing for warmongers of all ages and young conscripts.

Pink Floyd At Pompeii: MCMLXXII captures a moment that’s as bygone as the good citizens of Pompeii themselves.

The film finishes with a dedication to him – although maybe there was no need. Wakanda Forever is, itself, a fitting tribute to him.

Directed without restraint by Ridley Scott, it’s a bewildering blend of high fashion, high camp and high tragedy that’s chaotic but also wildly entertaining.

Sprinkled throughout are marketing messages (“Barbie means you can be anything”) that sound like they come straight from a press release. Gerwig is clever enough to deliver these with self-awareness and some sarcastic jokes (Mirren thanking Barbie for ending misogyny is a highlight), meaning the balance between reality and commercial is never lost. For a movie that ostensibly exists to promote a doll, this is laudable.

There’s ultimately lots to love about Final Reckoning and if this is the end, Cruise and Co are finishing on a high. It’s just a shame it takes so long to get going.

The great storyteller has been careful in interviews to remind us The Fabelmans is only semi-autobiographical, but everything cuts so deep that you’re left wondering if Spielberg left any of the truth out at all.

Final Destination Bloodlines is even more self-aware than its predecessors, with hugely enjoyable results.

Spaeny is superb as Priscilla, making you feel every painful aspect of her emotional journey, from infatuation and initial confusion through to heartbreak and finally self-discovery. Similarly, Elordi makes a terrific Elvis.

At times, [Peele] seems to imply that comedy and horror are both ways of processing the perverse mysteries of the world—and looking at things we shouldn’t be looking at. This also makes Nope a film that rewards repeat watching.

What makes this fifth film the best of the franchise is its tense, paranoid latter half.

It’s not a film for everyone, especially if you’re craving fast-moving action. But for Poe fans, it’s a grisly treat.

Saltburn isn’t the most talked-about party of the year, but you shouldn’t miss it all the same.

Stahelski may traffic in excess, but at least he understands it: how choreography, performance and style can make over-the-top spectacle cohere into pleasurably overwhelming action fizz, rather than congealing into a sweaty special effects overload.

It’s a beautifully constructed and emotionally engaging tale that’s constantly surprising.

Vortex might act as a balm to some viewers who see themselves in this quietly tragic family portrait. But, if you’ve ever had even the smallest existential fear of growing older and dying, or watching this happen to people you love, tread carefully around this one.

What results is a film that both works as a finely-tuned thriller and a meditation on the Church’s place in today’s society.

This could easily have smacked of trying too hard, but Johnstone really seems to have pulled it off.

Its rich tone of regret, guilt and unspoken malice comes across in careful direction from Tim Mielants, Frank van den Eeden’s shadowy cinematography and subtle, measured performances across the board.

Aftersun may be small in scale, but it leaves a distinct and lasting impression. No question, it’s the best British movie this year.

Superbly marshalled by Gray, the ensemble cast is excellent – though if you had to pick a stand-out, it’d be Hopkins, as the kindly-but-principled grandfather. He casts a huge shadow over the film, a moral compass for all to follow.

As a meditation on depression, anxiety and touring, Anonymous Club isn’t just valuable viewing for Barnett’s die-hard fans, though they will no doubt cherish this film which captures the artist at her most open, outside of her music. For the first time, we’re invited into the club.

It’s not a naive film, but rather a hopeful one. Despite a world where darkness lurks, there’s light at the end of this tunnel.

Swapping out historical accuracy for crowd-pleasing scenes of blood-curdling female empowerment, The Woman King is somewhat conventional as it plots its emotional beats, but it’s power comes from its rousing performances, especially Davis, who can knock a man dead with her stare, let alone her machete.

Garfield’s performance is a compassionate one, careful not to hide Larson’s vainer side but also presenting him sympathetically.

While it’s not quite the same as actually being there, Bono: Stories Of Surrender shines a new, personal light on his dramatic performance.

It’s a smart and stylish sequel that’s endlessly entertaining; but more than that, in the dumpster fire of 2020, Wonder Woman 1984 is a two hours of hope filled escapism – something all of us could do with right now.

It’s a shame the movie has such a goofy name, which throws a shroud over a powerful and unique cinematic experience.

Archer’s film always feels utterly unique. Looking as handmade as its loveable leads and carrying enough odd wit and subtle warmth to put the multiplex to shame, this is British indie cinema at its weird best. See it before it all falls apart at the seams.

Made with bubblegum bite by Jennifer Kaytin Robinson (writer on MTV’s Sweet/Vicious and Marvel’s Thor: Love And Thunder), the film takes its place in the cult yearbook with an ironic wink – dropping movie references as fast as it does one-liners.

The electricity effects are way too cheap, but otherwise Studio 666 would sweep up the Palm D’Gore at any horror flick festival with an ounce of rock ’n’ roll in its fiend-infested soul.

A road movie that really makes you think about the stops it makes, there is real pain inside this film; Eisenberg and his cast do well to ensure you’ll feel every moment of it.

It’s a rich character study that doesn’t sugarcoat the ageism Shelly faces, but also grants her a defiant sense of agency. Whatever you think of her choices, she’s lived life on her own terms.

While the narrative never quite makes peace in the way you would expect and does meander slightly off course, it seems Ross had no intention of a textbook crescendo.

Endlessly silly, and hampered by a lousy script, Fall somehow still manages to be almost unbearably tense – the equivalent of spending two hours watching those stomach-churning YouTube videos of mad freerunners hanging off tall buildings for fun.

You’d be hard-pressed to call it moving, but at least there’s an emotional narrative that drags us through the grisly bits. Sick, dark and laugh-out-loud nuts.

In a way, it’s a shame the film ends with a basic boilerplate listing Lopez’s record sales, box office receipts and social media following. By this point, Halftime has done more than enough to show us that its subject is very much the real deal.

You won’t leave a-ha: The Movie wanting to hang out in the band’s dressing room, but you will come away with a renewed appreciation for the intense and sensitive men who made melancholy pop gems like ‘The Sun Always Shines On TV’ and ‘Hunting High And Low’. Glorious as it is, there’s a lot more to this band than ‘Take On Me’.

This feature-length documentary makes for affecting viewing because it tells the duo’s incredible success story through the lens of their rock-solid friendship.

The Bob’s Burgers Movie is substantial enough to justify its 102-minute runtime and manages to supersize the show’s appealing recipe without diluting its flavour. It’s a meaty treat that fans and newcomers alike can devour with relish.

There’s something undeniably impressive about the whole enterprise, in which Lanthimos has found the perfect co-conspirators: Plemons’ ambiguous quality suits his opaque stories, while Stone’s charisma warms the edges of his chilly filmmaking. The result is a singular, freaky challenge that’s definitely worth accepting.

It all adds up to a film that’s brave, fascinating, grim and irreverent: in other words, vintage Verhoeven.

Is there too much going on? Possibly, but Eddington is never dull – Aster commits fully to his grisly vision of a ruptured America where a sticky narrative is more important than the truth or any kind of moral high ground.

Apart from the usual stylistic clichés, this isn’t your typical Anderson movie. Structurally, it’s unconventional.

All set around the American Civil War, Chapter 1 is a three-hour slow-burn that takes some patience, but rewards with handsome vistas, moments of thrilling action and characters that will likely grow in significance in subsequent instalments.

Somehow Johnson’s sophisticated turn – the best of her career – will keep you on side. As romantic as Materialists is, it’s also realistic which makes it so watchable.

Good Mourning is content with providing sheer, silly entertainment, filling the comedy void left by the likes of Seth Rogan and Jonah Hill perfectly.

It’s a familiar story, to be honest. But even if Bond seems the same as ever, the world he exists in isn’t.

Though it plays like a glitzy musical in the mould of Bohemian Rhapsody, Elvis also works as a much-needed lesson about America’s cultural history.

The Beach Boys makes up for its narrative familiarity by exploring some of the lesser-known behind-the-scenes tidbits.

Unlike its predecessor though, you won’t forget this experience in a hurry.

Wonka isn’t quite an immaculate confection, but it’s moreish enough to become a future festive favourite. You’ll want to tuck right in.

Combining spectacular effects work with a surprisingly provocative script, it’s a superbly made sci-fi adventure that delivers plenty of robo-thrills.

The Fall Guy is a delight from start to finish, thanks to a sparkling script, thrilling action sequences and to-die-for comic chemistry between the two leads.