You don’t need to be a Swiftie to admire the astonishing staging, endless creativity, and the spectacle of an artist giving her all.

One of the decade’s most accomplished fantasy sagas signs off with a finale that’s exciting, moving and fabulous to look at.

It’s a straightforward morality story at heart, reminiscent at times of A Bronx Tale and with a sagacious neighbourhood DJ (played, rather fabulously, by ex-footballer Ian Wright) cut from the same cloth as Do the Right Thing’s Mister Señor Love Daddy. Yet it is such a stunningly and meticulously designed film that it continually captivates.

Equally cool and cruel, stuffed with subtext, this ‘Iranian fairytale’ weaves its spell to a flip, hip ending. Amirpour is one to watch.

Director Tim Story (Barbershop, Ride Along, 2005’s Fantastic Four) skewers Hollywood convention and urban stereotypes in a rapid-fire satire that manages to be both scathing and affectionate. If the plot ultimately feels a tad stretched - despite the 97-minute run time - you’ll likely be having too much fun to care.

A taut, chilling little horror-thriller making maximum use of minimal resources to tap into our primal fears of the unknown.

A surreal head-scratcher that'd make Luis Buñuel smile, it may not be perfectly formed, but there's no denying its fierce originality.

Powered by the magnetic Aaron Taylor-Johnson, it’s rough around the edges, but still intoxicating.

The armageddon-through-beer-goggles approach brings the chuckles, but The World’s End stands up as a great example of the genre it ribs. Nostalgic, bittersweet and very, very funny.

Fresh enough to engage newcomers, respectful enough to appease scholars, this is – for genre fans – pure period-drama porn.

There’s a neat final twist up [Attila Till’s] sleeve – and by casting paraplegics, he avoids the easy sentimentality that subjects such as this often invite.

The MCU’s self-appointed messiah might not have pulled off a complete course correction, but he delivers an action-packed, gag-stuffed crowdpleaser that gives the franchise a much needed lift. Jackman is worth his weight in adamantium.

While the biopic is determinedly feel-good, and sometimes a little over the top, Williams holds true to the spirit of someone who - like Gael García Bernal - was a born entertainer.

Nia DaCosta turns things up to 11 with an energized take on the 28 Years Later world. Come for the gore but stay for the surprisingly frequent jokes and a pair of astonishing performances from Ralph Fiennes and Jack O'Connell, whose sadistic Jimmy Crystal is utterly hateful but always compelling.

This classy, female-centred Omen prequel is devilishly good at keeping its nun on the run.

Based on genuine cases, the film reveals its horrors in a matter-of-fact manner, taking care to show the characters grasping every chance for laughter - however inappropriate - amid the grimness.

Weird, twisted and deliciously unique, Medina’s horror taps a dynamic vein in feminism and Giallo-esque gore.

Paul Feig makes a slight gear change for a slick thriller that’s best enjoyed with a martini in hand.

A sparkling, enchanting new spin that out-swims the original, with a pitch-perfect performance from Halle Bailey.

Blending OTT gore, devilish humor and on-the-nose satire, this is sick, twisted and hugely enjoyable.

The pacing is spot-on, the set-pieces memorable and all the characters are allowed to shine, without it ever becoming The Johnny Depp Show.

With its slow tracking shots, complete disregard for edited narrative and endless baaing and whistling, it’ll either bore you to tears or hypnotise you with its weird Herzogian beauty.

“We have to find a product that’s appealing to people!” says Garcia Bernal at one point. And that’s just what Larraín’s created with this Latin spin on "Mad Men."

The film belongs to Arena, outstanding as a man growing ever more delusional in his quest to acquire celebrity status.

Hardy is immaculate as Leo, from accent to demeanour. Now on his fourth film with Hardy, Oldman is a pleasure to watch, and even the smallest of roles have been carefully cast, with the likes of Vincent Cassel, Paddy Considine and Clarke all enjoying their moment.

It’s heavy-handed, but with such fine performances from the youngsters, aided by the ever-reliable Shirley Henderson (as a social worker), that it’s hard not to get sucked into this tragic tale.

It’s the filmic equivalent of a Penn and Teller magic trick: amaze, show the mechanics, amaze again.

A superior sports biopic with a never-better LaBeouf? You cannot be serious! But it only fully gets to grips with the ice-cool Swede.

Molina and Lithgow shine as newlywed grumpy old men in a moving love story that’s also a masterclass in emotional subtlety.

Madame Bovary meets Thérèse Raquin with a splash of Lady Chatterley in a pared-down drama that packs a real punch.

Stirring and striking, Hooper's epic musical won't be wanting for awards and plaudits. Danny Cohen's cinematography is stunning and Hathaway's Oscar is guaranteed.

Audran is luminous as the centre of a gentle, generous film about grace. Oh, and grub.

A lot of campy, silly fun, just like its predecessor, with a few plucky upgrades – just don't go looking for an incisive commentary on AI.

It makes for a tonally consistent movie, though one that fails to deliver on a deeper emotional level – arguably the element that elevated the franchise above its many clones. It's a shame, because the action really is brilliant, even if the plot gives you a sense of déjà vu. Whoa.

Thunderbolts* is a refreshing offering from the MCU that takes plenty of big swings and only occasionally misses. The movie cares more about the characters and relationships on screen than the franchise at large, and that means we do too.

A little baggy in places with its two-hours-plus runtime, and a touch convoluted too, Smile 2 is a visually impressive sequel with solid performances, an expanding lore, and some genuinely scary moments, making it a very successful follow-up to a recent horror favorite.

The Witcher: Sirens of the Deep breathes fresh air into The Witcher's increasingly stale franchise. Anchored by a wonderful voice performance from Doug Cockle, small distracting details aren't enough to overwhelm a well-paced and enjoyable new adventure for Geralt of Rivia.

Fantastic Four may not be the confident stride Marvel fans were hoping for but, at the very least, it's a solid first step.

Predator: Badlands may irk traditionalists, but it's a big swing that just about works. The odd-couple dynamic between Elle Fanning's busted synth and the more human Yautja adds laughs to the usual lacerations for a fun, propulsive, off-world action-adventure.

The Final Reckoning brings both the Dead Reckoning storyline and the franchise as a whole to a satisfying close. As ever, Cruise is in peak condition, front and centre amid some looney stuntwork. If only his antagonist Gabriel was a more worthy opponent.

Moana remains as compelling a protagonist as ever in her much-anticipated sequel, whilst her reunion with Maui showcases the wonderful voice talents of Auli’i Cravalho and Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson. There’s plenty to admire in the animation and rich mythology of the tale, but it rehashes many of the themes and plot points of the original leading to a fun but less vital movie.

Karate Kids: Legends is a classic story reimagined for the TikTok generation. Ben Wang is a fantastic lead, while Jackie Chan and Ralph Macchio have fantastic chemistry – if only they had more screentime. One of the better installments in this mixed franchise.

Despite too many two-dimensional characters, a bloated story, and forgettable mutant dinosaurs, Rebirth still manages to deliver some of the franchise’s best set-pieces. Jonathan Bailey and Scarlett Johansson stand out in this unscary sequel that needed a little more time in amber before being extracted.

The sci-fi premise seems preposterous, but get beyond that and Gedeck’s predicament absorbs.

Despite a handful of high points and Raimi flourishes, Strange’s second solo film rarely feels like the best possible outcome of this confluence of director and character.

Tamer than the book and not as funny, this is Salmon filleted. But McGregor and Blunt make fetching lovebirds, while Kristin Scott Thomas is off the scale in a rare comic outing.

Ocean’s Eleven meets The Prestige? Not quite. Starts well, ends in a heap, but in between there’s just enough splash and flash to distract from the lack of substance

Valiant, but flawed. Some of the set-pieces are superb, but there isn’t enough meat on the bones to turn this into a classic.

A mixed return for Stillman, Damsels is so whimsically out of step it's like a time-travel comedy without the time travel. Fortunately, Gerwig and some dazzling dialogue save his blushes.

Depending on taste, you’ll be left either barfing or laughing.

Vaughn and Wilson. eight years on from "Wedding Crashers," the pair successfully rekindle their irascible shtick.

A so-so sequel enlivened by a few inspired moments. Ralph and Vanellope are still good company, but this concept might have worked better as a series of shorts.

With Hill on co-scripting duties with Scott Pilgrim scribe Michael Bacall, 21 Jump Street was always going to live or die by its gags. Fortunately, it boasts that sweet-yet-dirty comedy that Hill revels in.

Closer to Eli Roth than Sam Raimi, this brutal retread combines J-horror atmospherics with torture-porn kills. It’s more evisceration than invention but at least has the courage of its bloody-minded convictions.

In the end, Road House is a solid actioner, a frolic that Liman marshals competently. This is a fun Friday-night fight-fest, best enjoyed with a few bevvies – brash, loud, knockabout and liable to leave you with a cauliflower ear or two.

By the time it’s over, you’ll either be heading for the beach or vowing never to go in the water again.

The end-stretch is overlong, but the Flash animation style pops with colour, the music is fun, and off-the-scale creature cuteness abounds.

Lawrence’s mechanised menagerie and the directors’ stereoscopic smarts entertain most.

Shame that the plotting favours narrative intrigue over character depth, creating a film whose message is witnessed rather than felt.

Though delightful in places, the third entry in Sony’s third Spider-Man cycle feels both overstocked and underwhelming.

Filled with cherry-blossom gorgeousness and sentimental homages to small-town Japanese life, it's a film of quiet, telling moments, even when big revelations surface.

Ashley Bell’s nuanced performance and a surprisingly pyrotechnic finale liven up a gloomy sequel. Title’s still nonsense, mind.

Exploring how a one-time surrealist art muse fought to report atrocities, this handsome but rather conventional biopic showcases a tip-top Winslet performance, but at times meanders like a weighty Wikipedia entry.

Solid casting and scares mix with thin plotting and middling monster moves in Savage’s King riff.

The vagueness won't win Dumont new fans, but his enigmatic allegory of intertwined good and evil does linger in the mind.

Massively unlikely, but compelling to the last, it makes a decent fist of conveying the strength of internet attachments, even if filtering the unfolding drama through endless computer screens becomes a well-worn device.

The scuzz-chic visuals, sleaze-synth score and deep-cutting gore are effective, and shooting from the killer’s POV proves a valid USP. But Wood, despite giving his all, cannot match Joe Spinell’s unhinged turn in the original: nightmares in a damaged brain indeed.

An engaging new direction for Eli Roth, who offsets the odd tonal hiccup with plenty of ghoulish delights.

The thematic weight drags down the tension, yet just when it seems Janiak has forgotten the scares she pulls off a creepy finale.

Ravishingly pretty but low-powered, this cute and earnest fairy tale has a whole lot of homage, but not enough heart.

It ebbs away at the climax, but there’s 45 minutes where it sings loud and strange.

Without much in the way of nudge-wink Pixar-style humour and pathos, mums and dads are less likely to be quite so enthralled.

With plenty of potential and a door swung wide open for a future sequel, Uncharted makes a decent play for filling an Indy-shaped hole in the movie market right now. But the series will need to beef up its reserves of charm and swagger to be in the same league as cinema’s favorite archaeologist.

It might look as though Hallmark, Benetton and Richard Curtis have collaborated on a movie, but Chelsom’s lightly subversive, self-aware tone bolsters Pegg’s best shot yet at a mass-appeal crowd-pleaser.

The script keeps its gloves on but Gyllenhaal gives his all, notching up one of his very best performances.

Reid’s a fine lead, but DuVernay’s usually firm footing wobbles in the CGI clouds of Disney fantasy.

It’s hard not to be moved by the story, but it’s only a handful of great performances that save it from underwhelming. Steal the book instead.

Classy but curiously empty, The Son may be a spiritual sequel to The Father, but it’s not its equal.

Direction and cast pack a wallop.

Sixteen years on from the Shia LaBeouf original, though, the many brains behind this franchise have still to figure out how to satisfy an audience without leaving it bludgeoned.

Delivers as a Friday-night actioner, with some smart moves and good banter. Smith and Lawrence are on crackerjack form.

A primitive concept (cavemen play football) generates unsophisticated laughs in an animated caper that’s fun but rather second division by Aardman standards.

Mostly, it’s a study of an analogue ghost turned digital star; yet because Maloof is vested in building Maier’s reputation, the film leaves some uncomfortable questions about the ethics of posthumous fame.

It's a must see for fans of roar footage.

Occasionally rambling, it’s kept afloat by an eclectic soundtrack and Christopher Doyle’s striking urban lensing.

It’s not the sort of family film you’ll wax lyrical about, but there’s enough colorful, chaotic, kid-friendly fun to amply entertain.

Comprising archive footage and first-hand accounts, Claire Ferguson’s film feels vital in sharing harrowing stories of life in concentration camps.

The story is predictable, but Simmons’ tighty whities and Delpy’s fish impressions compensate.

Ending up in a CG mess that tries to say something about karma, Bullet Train isn’t the Pulp Fiction on rails it thinks it is. What it is, though, is a whole dollop of fun. Buoyed by Leitch’s expert eye for action as well as one of the most hilariously disposable A-list casts around, the film has Friday night written all over it.

Much more fun than Coming 2 America. Don’t be surprised to see a fifth film greenlit.

Bob has spawned multiple books, but what works on the page seems slight on screen. That’s not to say it isn’t life-affirming, it’s just not quite the cat’s pyjamas.

Fun enough, but not the lightning-bolt-to-the-heart update we hoped for. For a far superior update of the Frankenstein myth, read Stephen King’s Revival.

[A] memorable, conventional account of a true maverick.

Prisoners of the Ghostland exists entirely outside the norms and conventions of moviemaking. Really there’s only one word to describe it: nuts.

Blurring the fiction/documentary lines (it features non-professional actors), it’s spiced with eccentricities.

Reichardt and Williams reunite to muted effect to create a portrait of an artist that feels a little unfinished.

Francesca Gregorini’s film stands or falls on a central mystery as silly as it is surreal. Fair play to Gregorini, though, for avoiding the temptation to deliver an outré slice of suburban Gothic; by framing events as melodrama, she can better examine themes of grief and motherhood.

For dance fans this is a fascinating study of the time, effort and logistics that go into a big production.