The whole thing feels like a late-night, dorm-room gab fest, except that the four women in question are well over 60, which is the gag.

Never before have the demands of my inner man-child been so stirred, though, than while experiencing Deadpool 2, a movie that feels scribbled in pencil crayon, drenched in Jolt cola and coated with the dust of a thousand discarded bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.

A truly gifted comedic actress, McCarthy is wasting her talents with this vanilla-flavoured story.

The doc drags a bit by the end, but the film's message is sent: "Man's wish to be first induces forms of insanity."

There is a familiarity to its characters and story, which doesn’t do much at all in terms of reinventing the genre, but very much meets its own expectations.

As film, the results are often fabulous. They begin with a deft use of flashback from the action’s dark conclusion; they continue with wonderfully detailed and lively camera work that catches the sparkle in Annette Bening’s eye as she plays the actress Irina dominating her many dependants, and follows the seduction of the ingénue Nina (Saoirse Ronan) as it moves out onto a rowboat in the middle of a lake.

There are good intentions lurking here, especially in star Louis Garrel’s performance, but the film consistently fails to engage on an even basic level.

From beginning to brutal end, this is Fargeat’s uncompromising creation, but Lutz is at the centre of the terror, and acquits herself well as a person never to be dismissed, or crossed, again.

It is a love story, as beautiful as it is devastating.

At times, it approaches self-parody, but that’s just Woo having some much-needed fun.

Journeys more often than not are not what we expected. And neither is Cook's unpredictable and reflective work, set to a brooding solo-cello score and filled with whatever metaphors you need. We are alone on this trip – take it, and this marvellous film, at your own pace.

Poor genre efforts like Backstabbing for Beginners hurt cinema’s chance to survive and thrive as the greatest medium for storytelling.

A few plot contrivances aside, the unspectacular Bad Samaritan is tense and disturbing enough, and worth its weight in popcorn.

Cody’s third-act twist threatens to unravel Theron’s hard work; yet, somehow, the power of Tully remains firmly in Theron’s skilled and capable hands.

Zhao’s artful look into the American West is a lightly brooding winner. Clearly this isn’t her first time at the rodeo.

Even by Marvel’s own standards of serviceable mediocrity, Infinity War fails.

The audience is left, then, submerged in two very different movies where the protagonists are going to sink or swim – but unsatisfyingly – not together.

Zama is a disjointed watch that is both challenging and mesmerizing.

Coming soon to a screen in hell’s multiplex is Super Troopers 2, a sequel that sets back Canadian-American relations to an 1812 level and retroactively awards an Oscar to "Porky’s II" and a Pulitzer citation to 1995’s "Canadian Bacon."

I Feel Pretty paints the most garish and unflattering portrait of contemporary female culture.

The documentary is an inspiration to women – not just in the Middle East – who are determined to rise to the top of their professions, despite the odds being stacked against them.

The plot is cursory, the dialogue is repetitive and the psychology is cheap. Hanging in for the wanton violence may prove too much for anyone not seriously addicted to the guilty pleasures of cheesy sci-fi.

The effortless richness of character that so thoroughly grounded Haigh’s Oscar-nominated "45 Years" and his critical darling "Weekend" is half-heartedly formed in Pete. There is a disquieting sense that the director has fallen prey to the poetics of space at the expense of the lives within it.

The whole thing should be harmless enough – the actors are such old hands, they can pull off this plucky stuff in their sleep. Except for one ruinous thing: The dance sequences are unforgivably awful.

Set against the high-tension strings and jarringly funky synthesizers of Greenwood’s score, the film is transformative and transfixing.

The result is a stylish, watchable film, but one with a slow pulse. Game, set and almost a great movie.

The film has its moments and some things to say about honesty and selflessness, but the plot is manipulated and the ending is not an ending. Truth be known.

Beirut is as solid a film as Hamm is a performer. The movie is not a flashy affair, but it does hit in unexpected ways and uses its pretty faces (Hamm, but also Gone Girl’s Rosamund Pike, another performer who should be ruling the world) to deliver something you will likely expect, but nonetheless appreciate.