Seven years in the making, The Brutalist is epic in its length, weight and ambition, like a modern-day Orson Welles picture, while it also bears comparison to contemporary masterworks like There Will Be Blood.

Damien Chazelle's blisteringly told tale of an aspiring jazz drummer and his bullying mentor is a hugely entertaining, refreshingly subversive take on the well-worn "inspirational teacher" theme.

Like many great American character studies, you won’t look away and will laugh as much as you condemn. Chalamet’s performance is a feat of sheer intensity.

Even if No Other Choice will leave you stone-faced, you can’t help but admire the invention on display, especially in later scenes, where Park dips into the surreal.

It's a visual treat, often employing split-screen effects that give viewers a more intimate sense of proceedings, and the man of the hour, alongside Yoko Ono and backed by the New York-based band Elephant's Memory, is effortlessly charismatic throughout.

Under the Skin delivers startlingly original imagery amid the Scottish landscapes and finds queasy horror everywhere thanks to Mica Levi's pervasive electronic score. It's an experience you'll not forget in a hurry.

Adapted by director François Ozon, the script makes subtle adjustments to Camus's work without ever demystifying its more enigmatic elements.

Both actors imbue events with personality, bringing rich textures to the story that have been largely missing since 28 Days Later, resulting in a supremely satisfying horror thrill ride with unexpected depth.

It's safe to say that this particular entry in the series gets a little darker, a little more unsettling and a whole lot weirder than either of the previous instalments.

Devised by Brutalist composer Daniel Blumberg, the songs are spirited, and Mamma Mia! star Seyfried invests fully. But with characters often reduced to making declamatory statements, it becomes an increasingly vexing exercise.

Neville, an Oscar winner for his 2013 study of backing singers 20 Feet from Stardom, devotes perhaps too much time to biographical details fans will already know well, but should be applauded for scratching deeper below the surface of a superstar in transition.

It’s a tender – and sometimes affecting – portrait of the artist, one that hopefully will allow modern audiences to remember the contributions Lorenz Hart made to popular culture.

Perhaps it's hyperbole to call the film del Toro’s masterpiece – especially a story that has been told countless times. But this is a work that is the accumulation of three-and-a-half decades of filmmaking knowledge. Gory and grim it may be, but it is a tragic tale told in a captivating manner.

This is science fiction with a reassuring soul, where the sombre comes bearing a smile, and the vastness of space is never quite so scary when you’re sharing it with a new pal.

For sure, Bigelow has crafted a film that works both as nerve-shredding entertainment and as a thought-provoking anti-nuclear statement.

It’s not quite up there with Pixar’s finest, but this warm, extremely witty and wonderfully entertaining film is sure to delight the whole family, whilst spreading a positive message about living side-by-side with nature and not judging our fellow humans too harshly.

Combining charming performances, arresting imagery and, naturally, a great soundtrack, the result feels universal because it acknowledges that everyone was young and yearning once.

Ultimately it generates plenty of fun for the whole flock, and the more it leans into its madness the more it succeeds.

This pleasingly madcap comedy-drama will no doubt satisfy fans of Lanthimos’s off-kilter take on the world around us.

It’s a good exercise for Cooper in creating something more low-key, even if it doesn’t quite come off. Still, in the days where adult-skewing dramas are becoming an endangered species in movie theatres, this should be applauded for attempting the subject of divorce with a level head.

Two actors, among the very best of their respective generations, come together for Dragonfly, a bleak but captivating study of loneliness and social care set in contemporary Britain.

Layton sustains the slow-burning tension, punctuated occasionally by some riveting chases, as the quartet circle each other on the way to a nerve-jangling, edge-of-your-seat climax where the outcome is anything but predictable.

Of course, if you are not steeped in football lore or are no particular fan of the game, you might consider Saipan a film for sports enthusiasts only. However, thanks to fabulous performances and a witty, perceptive script that’s more concerned with the game of life than the game itself, it has something for everybody.

If you just want to see two massive blokes smashing the hell out of people, things and each other, with the odd decent one-liner, you could certainly do worse, and Amazon feels like the perfect home for this hunk of mindless man-candy.

It’s high drama throughout and not always comfortable viewing, but Mielants and Porter use their canvas to shine a light on broader issues of social and educational systemic failure without once stumbling into preachiness.

It would be unfair to claim this closing film concludes on a whimper. But neither is it quite the grand finale the title would have us believe. More like a pleasant stroll with characters you know and love.

Feig could be accused of over-egging puddings in the way he ultimately ties the threads of his characters together, and there are one or two moments when too close an examination of his house of cards might send it tumbling to the ground, but the end result is a satisfyingly scary chiller that benefits from not always taking itself seriously.

Johnson, looking radically different under a cropped black wig, takes this opportunity and wrestles with it. Not since his work for Michael Bay in Pain & Gain has he done anything this out of his comfort zone.

In all fairness, Tuason ups the ante in the last reel, the pedestrian tease of what went before giving way to more palpably spooky shenanigans, but it’s a ludicrously long wait for the yarn to step up a gear that runs the risk of the audience having already given up on the whole affair.

A tender, decade-spanning love story, exquisitely told by director Oliver Hermanus, The History of Sound is yet another wonderful showcase for the considerable talents of Josh O’Connor and Paul Mescal.

The final act doesn't quite pay off, with characters' motives left frustratingly opaque, but the film is blessed with cast-iron performances, especially from Graham and Boon.

While director Bill Condon is adept when it comes to staging all-singing, all-dancing escapism, he proves less successful at nailing the grimmer tone behind bars.

All in all, it’s quite a ride, yet the more things it tries to do, the less well it does them.

It’s a thoroughly enjoyable reunion – like being reacquainted with old friends.

It goes without saying that the screenplay, unavoidably melodramatic in places yet never mawkish, is designed for audiences to root for the couple, but Jackman and Hudson are so on their game, so engaged in making Mike and Claire believable that only stone-hearted cynics won’t end up loving them.

If spending time in the bio-luminescent forests and turquoise oceans of an alien planet is your thing, then Fire and Ash does everything you’d hope. It’s a marvel of CG craftsmanship and of Cameron’s pursuit of perfection.

The first Black Phone was a serial-killer horror with a side order of supernatural, but this gripping sequel embraces the paranormal and gruesomeness in all its gory glory, too.

Of the newcomers to the saga, Keoghan imbues Duke with a tender vulnerability beneath all his surface bluster and violence, and his scenes with Murphy give the film palpable heart whenever it runs the risk of being overwhelmed by beatings, bullets and bombs.

Deliver Me From Nowhere works best when it’s small, when its sharper focus is on a troubled thirty-something burying himself in the creation of what would become one of his most celebrated records, digging deep into music both haunting and healing.

By the time a killer final scene rolls around, The Drama is somewhat limping over the line, but its leads lend a crucial heartbeat to a film frustratingly engineered for discourse, not depth.

It’s a fun, John Wick-esque expansion of this world that seems sure to satisfy fans of the first instalment, with curious casual viewers welcomed along for the ride.

Once again, Nathan Crowley’s production design is wondrous, a multi-colour extravaganza that truly brings Oz to life. Simply spending time there – with its fields of tulips and fireworks in the sky – is one of the great pleasures of this movie. A film that will surely satisfy Wicked’s extensive army of devotees.

There’s still a good time to be had, but such beloved characters deserve a better film than this – and seeing as the actors wrote it they’ve only themselves to blame.

Powell proves to be a charismatic hero, bristling with anger but also able to stay alive thanks to his own ingenuity and much-needed assistance from those he meets on his travels, such as cameoing William H Macy, Emilia Jones (CODA) and Michael Cera (star of Wright’s Scott Pilgrim vs the World), whose mercurial rebel lives in an elaborately booby-trapped bolt-hole worthy of Rambo.

On one hand the cinematic equivalent of "go big or go home", on the other an emotionally impactful adaptation for the ages, Wuthering Heights is wonderfully flamboyant filmmaking, that will almost certainly provoke pearl-clutching amongst the purists.

Assayas and his team have created an indelible portrait of contemporary Russia, “a prison the size of a country” as it's called, one that perhaps only an outsider could ever get away with.

Gyllenhaal should be applauded for her ambition, stylish flourishes and obvious respect for the original film. However, there’s a sense that all the elements don’t cohere entirely.

While perhaps this doesn't quite announce Winslet as a major new directorial voice – her approach is more functional than eye-catching – Goodbye June is still a worthwhile film with some impressive moments, and seems likely to leave many a viewer with a tear in their eye.

The best bits are frightening, memorable and distinctive. Hit and miss then, but Keeper does at least further cement Perkins as one of the boldest independent voices in horror around.

It has been a case of diminishing returns regarding the nine-movie nerve-jangling blockbuster juggernaut and while Last Rites hardly matches the pioneering nightmare spirit of the original film, it churns the cliché chills with a pleasing confidence.

Lilo & Stitch hammers home the ‘family matters’ message during the climax, which feels like it could have been trimmed, but overall this is expertly executed, cross-generational fun that combines the look of a lavish Disney production with oodles of oddball charm.

Combining legacy characters with a new trio of younger illusionists, the third film in this action-comedy series is a busily disposable – if fitfully fun – combination of reunion gig and new-generation franchise spruce-up.

It’s inoffensive, tear-jerking, easy watching that, just like the rest the CoHo canon, will probably do just fine at the box office.

How to Make a Killing feels less like an heir apparent for our times and more like a distant relative struggling to forge their own path.

Certainly, this lacks the cheekiness of, say, M3GAN. With the exception of an amusing riff about Depeche Mode (better than Mozart, according to Ares), it requires a much-needed humour injection. In Tron terms, the future is less bright than po-faced.

For the most part returning director Simon McQuoid does little to turn this into anything but a serviceable follow-up to a film that feels outdated and outdone by much better recent video game adaptations.

The pity is that one look at the cast list promises riches that never surface; these are hugely talented actors feeding on the scraps of a solid premise made stagnant by the screenplay’s myriad shortcomings.

Like an inoffensive light ale, the result slips down more pleasantly than you might expect.

It’s just a shame the formulaic story feels about as paper-thin as you might expect from an adaptation of a ladders-and-levels video game. As is so common in these Hollywood animations, the ‘family is forever’ theme looms large, but never once feels sincere or authentic.

There are undeniable faults, plot holes and a dubious ending, although it’s still a crowd-pleaser executed with zest, suggesting Williamson is integral to Scream, if you wanna go faster.