Bristling with good ideas and two great performances, a rushed ending that dips into daftness ends up killing off what could have been a great pitch for an offbeat little TV show that we’re now never going to get to watch.

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.

Fortunately, Hawke is fantastic. Over-acting like his life depends on it, his mad kabuki mugging somehow works perfectly.

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

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.

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’.

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.

Condemned in Australia by two of the victim’s families, there’s an argument to be made for Nitram not being watched at all. But by refusing to paint Nitram as an out-and-out monster, the film’s masterstroke is its compassion. It exposes politicians as the real criminals in an unspeakable tragedy that we still haven’t learned from today.

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.

Don’t Make Me Go is a strange beast: a film that feels a little predictable until it snaps and stretches credulity to the limit. Thankfully, Cho and Isaac’s affecting performances are a lot more nuanced than the writing.

It’s hampered by an execution that’s flat, fussy and self-conscious. Only the most hopeless romantic will be able to invest in these characters for very long.

Best of all, like Ragnarok before it, it’s tremendously entertaining. Welcome to the jungle, indeed.

A career of such breadth and note deserves deep exploration, certainly, but so much of the greatness of Morricone’s music speaks for itself that exposing the workings rarely enhances the piece.

Some genuinely exciting action sequences save Jurassic World Dominion from being a complete turkey – a thrilling raptor versus motorbike chase is one of the highlights. Otherwise, the trilogy exits with a whimper rather than a roar.

Kids are scary. If you didn’t think so before, you definitely will after watching The Innocents – one of the year’s most quietly unsettling horror films.

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.

Top Gun: Maverick does exactly what its intended audience wants it to do – pile on the airborne thrills and steely military heroics without knotting things up with too much moralising or complex character development.

Less a balanced exposé than a tabloid scoop played for shocks, the film never even bothers to ask why any of this might have happened.

At the core of This Much I Know To Be True are sumptuously-shot performances of choice tracks from the Bad Seeds’ ethereal ‘Ghosteen’ and Cave & Ellis’ lockdown revelation record ‘Carnage’, all filmed in breathtaking arthouse style in an abandoned factory in Bristol.

Garland, having dipped with his interesting-but-flawed puzzler Annihilation, returns to the form of the excellent Ex Machina here with a shocking, hilarious and terrifying take on grief and masculinity at its most toxic. Thrilling stuff.

Somehow, Raimi – with strong, grounded turns from Cumberbatch and Olsen – just about keeps the film from running too far off the rails.

There’s plenty to admire in Silverton Siege, but most of it comes from the true story itself, with the film squandering every opportunity it has to make an impact.

The film’s emotional beats don’t hit as hard as its musical ones.

It’s all properly violent and uncivilised.

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

The Lost City isn’t cutting-edge entertainment, but it is a decent action film boasting a great cast and some good jokes, without a superhero in sight. That alone is cause for recommendation.

With such conflict already swirling around the films, is there any hope that new sequel The Secrets Of Dumbledore might cast a spell over audiences? It would help if the plot wasn’t so convoluted.

Never quite sure enough of itself to answer its own questions, this is a fun, sweet and occasionally funny film, but it’s never going to win a battle of the band movies.

If we’re to understand Hoon’s life through his footage, it’s as a victim of a lifestyle that amplifies not just the sounds in your head but the problems at your core.

Watching Pine and Newton try and erotically spoon-feed each other bits of bacon while secretly trying to work out if they have to kill each other is more than enough to hang an entire film off. It’s just a shame the rest of the movie isn’t up to scratch.

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.

Hamaguchi’s literary and densely layered drama moves slowly through its runtime, but stick with it and Drive My Car rewards patience like almost nothing else.

None of the characters have meaningful motives – and they’re so thinly drawn that they’re almost transparent.

Apatow has assembled a fantastic cast of A-listers and friends for his take on the pandemic. Unfortunately, it’s not very funny.

If you’re already a fan of the game – and want to see Jovovich at her baddie-squashing best, then you’re in for a treat. And a little brainless escapism never hurt the rest of us either.

Sonic 2 is certainly a fan-pleaser and comes pre-loaded with a post-credits scene that hints at more action (and more game throwbacks) to come. Who remembers that dodgy first design now?

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.

You can largely predict what will happen, but that’s okay. To All The Boys: Always and Forever is sweet, sleek and has plenty of charm. Sometimes, that’s all you need.

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

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.

Full of sex without ever being sexy, and twisted into the shape of a thriller without having any actual intrigue or suspense, it still stands up as the kind of adult relationship drama that’s gone out of fashion – just as trashy as it is complex.

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

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.

It’s poignant in informing and representing the value of sexual expression and acceptance, wholeheartedly portraying that BDSM relationships are more often than not as grounded and human as the people involved.

Showalter’s film gives Bakker a sentimental but effective final act, but never fully explains why this flawed but enormously warm human being became an unlikely icon.

Because of this humanity vacuum, the film’s emotional beats feel strained and awkward; often, Levy relies too heavily on Rob Simonsen’s mawkish score to tell us to feel something. The result: an inoffensive but forgettable sci-fi trifle that probably isn’t worth anyone’s precious time.

Lopez and Wilson are so right in their roles that the film’s ropier moments are easily forgotten. It’s a quintessential J.Lo movie that makes you wonder why she doesn’t make them more often.

Sure, there’ s no real reason for this story to keep unfolding. This is all about enjoying the imagery of human beings getting chopped up. And in that regard at least, Texas Chainsaw Massacre does not disappoint.

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.

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.

Flashy enough for pantomime but lacking the sense of fun, the rest of the film follows Branagh’s journey into dull excess, with Christie’s cracking whodunnit deafened by the camerawork and deadened by lazy writing.

The king of kitschy, campy cinema, understated is not always a word you’d readily associate with Pedro Almodóvar, but in his compassionate hands, motherhood becomes a vehicle for something much more weighty.

The bad news is that Moonfall isn’t a great movie. The good news is that it’s hugely enjoyable for most of its running time.

There’s a kindness and companionship – and freedom – to Jackass Forever that makes for 90 minutes of pure joy.

The film takes a minute to let the viewer in, to get on Julie’s level, but it’s often rewarding once her heart really does open up.

Just as ugly and beautiful as any classic noir, del Toro’s dark, dazzling three-ring Hollywood circus proves the old-fashioned event film still has a lot of life left.

Gradually, Fine’s sensitive, softly-softly approach works small wonders.

Driven by big-truck energy and lumbered with tired sports clichés and flat jokes, Home Team feels like its target audience is bad dads who don’t like spending time with their sons.

It’s best to think of Belfast as a great, crowd-pleasing coming-of-ager set in the city, rather than a serious, nuanced depiction of the conflict. Branagh’s tale leans heavily on the autobiographical and it’s about feelings rather than facts.

The main problem is that none of these characters are ever fleshed out enough to make you invest in them.

Looking and feeling every inch like a film made without compromise, Pinocchio was worth the wait. Del Toro has been talking about making the film for most of his career now, and the pay-off shows in every brushstroke and thumbprint.

Gary Oldman made his directorial debut with this startling portrait of life in a deprived part of south-east London.

Bruce Robinson’s tale of two struggling thesps who go on holiday by mistake is one of the greatest films ever made.

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