The first two Deadpool films were funny and violent and original, but this one shows Marvel’s most gloriously inappropriate superhero at his very best and worst.

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

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.

Turning an awful true story about a serial killer into an awful true story about the system that let it happen, The Good Nurse is an important lesson for anyone who tries to package Cullen’s crimes too neatly. Better still though, it gives us one of Chastain’s best performances; one of the year’s most believable superheroes.

The characters and story may feel a little stock, yanked straight out of a canon of teen movies from Bring It On to Bottoms, yet you won’t come away from this crowd-pleaser without a smile on your face to match those of the peppy Millenium Girls. And in that sense, Victory is victorious.

My Policeman suffers at the hands of a slightly depthless script, and all three sides of this sad and wretched love triangle mostly feel like standard-issue archetypes.

Watching the project as a whole is a bit like arriving at pre-drinks to find that someone has queued up 11 slightly same-y Miley Cyrus tracks in a row. Hardcore fans will be entranced; more casual admirers might want to wait until they all end up on YouTube.

Dodgy depictions of real-life celebs (such as Liam Gallagher) clash with the film’s fantastical tone, which itself can’t support Gracey’s attempt to address serious topics.

Badland Hunters is simply in it for the mayhem, marvellous though it may be, but ultimately mindless.

Is it scary? Rarely, to be honest. But it knows how to twist the knife, at least.

While there are glimmers of drama, there are also extended sections where this deliberately bewildering film gets a bit boring. Despite this, Sasquatch Sunset is worth seeking out if you have a taste for the absurd.

Robbie and Pitt still provide enough star-wattage to power most viewers to the end-credits. Babylon does babble on (sorry) past its natural conclusion, but what party ever ended when it was supposed to?

Murphy’s youthful cheekiness has long gone, stripping this sequel of some of its verve. But this is still an enjoyable, affable reunion: the heat is just about back on.

The clarity, dynamism and sheer scale of the action is near enough unparalleled, and it’s hard to argue you don’t get your money’s worth. Still, Cameron is going to have to think outside the (Pandora’s) box and change the game for any future installments.

While The End Continues obviously won’t be talked about in such hallowed terms in four decades’ time, it thankfully doesn’t sully its own reputation, and it sure is pleasant to be back in the company of the band again.

Despite the peaks, Uprising would have benefited from a shorter runtime and a more focused lens – and perhaps less severed noses.

You won’t come away feeling as though Shania Twain has bared her soul, but you will have renewed respect for the talent, vision and hard work that made her an era-defining artist.

Wingard does try out something different here, creating long dialogue-free sequences where it’s just the monsters going toe-to-toe. With Wingard relying on gestures, grunts and groans from his alpha-beasts, it’s like watching the most expensive silent movie ever made.

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.

Director and co-writer Justin Chon’s film is not saying anything new here, just presenting it slightly abstractly with brief flashbacks (and flash-forwards) alongside Joyo’s unusual tree and plant-based rituals.

Wicked: For Good doesn’t defy gravity like its predecessor but fans will want to hold space for a sequel with a very poignant payoff.

Director Joachim Rønning (the surprisingly decent fifth Pirates Of The Caribbean) is a safe pair of hands. He doesn’t deliver any massive surprises but confidently marshals an entertaining instalment that sits comfortably alongside its predecessors.

With so many of the gang now in the ground, this swansong doesn’t boast the same punk energy of the show’s early seasons. Only occasionally does it snarl and show its teeth, with flashes of the cold-blooded violence that gave it so much of an edge.

Bell is as low-key brilliant as he always is – that ominous, gravelly voice gets a great workout, while his withered, grey-haired appearance lends the film real gravitas. And yes, there is enough Saw iconography here to keep the bloodthirsty on-side.

Saving the day this time isn’t Poirot, but the city itself which Branagh captures in all its decadently crumbling glory.

Well made, but instantly forgettable.

Sting is derivative but fitfully gripping. Crucially, it’s also good fun: with a main protagonist named Charlotte (lolz), there’s definitely a knowingness to proceedings.

There’s a bit of perfunctory plot to get past – Rake has repressed guilt involving his ill son and ex-wife that needs resolving – but character development is not this film’s strong point. In fact, it’s often baffling.