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.

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.

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.

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.