Potts does the singing himself, but that doesn’t stop Justin Zackham’s (The Big Wedding) contrived script from sounding bum notes throughout.

Undeservedly controversial comedy lacks both laughs and nuance. The best bit they could come up with is Seth Rogen shoving a rocket up his bum.

Taking the original and successfully transplanting it into an ambitious new world, José Padilha’s english-language debut is an exciting, pacey and thoughtful sci-fi actioner.

A semi-successful slice of Southern gothic panto. 


It might sound like a lazy idea for an iPhone game but a few fresh jokes and lashings of creative gore help it stand out from the shuffling crowd.

One of the smartest zom-coms in recent memory gets a faithful French remake, but it's too well made to convince as the ultra-low budget schlock its aping.

After a first half that suggests franchise fatigue is setting in, Fallen Kingdom zooms in for some scarily good set-pieces.

Director Arnaud des Pallières lends a bleak austerity to the story, but with only one murky battle scene to quicken the blood it’s hardly a recipe for unbridled excitement.

A shallow, slow-burn horror that takes an age to get to the strong meat but looks good doing it.

Don't expect glamorous outlaws, sunny locales and exotic masterplans – this low-key thriller lifts the rusted lid off an all-too-real world of despairing criminality.

This genial, over-stuffed return boasts more national treasures than the British Museum. But tinny plots and predictable scripting mean it lives up to its title.

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.

Grisly and goofy, this ode to the Shaw Brothers' '70s-era kung fu epics serves up 96 minutes of murder and mutilation and not a lot else. Sweet soundtrack, though.

Those under 10 may love Joe, but adults will find him less appealing. Theron almost saves the day, until she flounders under the weight of poor dialogue, dull direction and a role that seems to value her make-up over her acting.

Not one for cynics or bedwetters, if you’re after a ripping, roaring, thigh-slapping giant of a fairytale, Bryan Singer’s blockbuster panto will be right up your beanstalk.

There’s a chemical imbalance here… Netflix’s super-drug thriller is less than addictive.

There are thrills and feels but this reimagination of the delightful animation doesn’t take flight often enough.

The farcical third act, wrapped up too neatly by director Lucia Aniello, softens the blows. More edges needed.

Barry Levinson’s comedy is stronger on the incidental detail: Keener ruthlessly expelling an underling from her office, or Variety’s acid reporting of an agent’s suicide (‘10 per center puts himself in turnaround’). But the big finale at Cannes feels inauthentic – a bit of a letdown from the director who so brilliantly pilloried Robert Evans in Wag The Dog.

Mme C. is Carine Roitfeld, ex-editor of Vogue Paris and former stylist. She’s a maternal presence – her own son calls her a MILF. Which makes for fantastic access, if minimal drama.

A plodding, predictable script hampers this tale of a real-life legal battle. But it’s redeemed by a vital central performance – and some vivid flashbacks.

It’s left to the leads to keep us engaged, a tall order given their film’s old-fashioned, fusty feel.

When it’s not being shrill, obvious or awkwardly wistful, Nigel Calendar Girls Cole’s comedy is quite funny.

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.

Misses the energy and vitality of Gregg Araki’s best work, but there’s more going on here than immediately meets the eye.

Jalil Lespert’s film treats its hero with a high seriousness that not even Niney’s uncanny portrayal of YSL’s artistry and mental fragility can justify.

A classy, actorly affair, whose emphasis on bittersweet character drama over class satire is both its most striking feature and biggest missed opportunity.

Like its hero, Ender’s Game relies on brains more than brute force. An absorbing portrait of Lord Of The Flies-style morality housed in imaginative sci-fi casing.

Bandele’s keen handling of cast and domestic conflict makes for a nuanced historical epic, but he’s less sure on the big stuff.

Ritchie makes a solid return to his wheelhouse with a crime yarn that turns the air so blue you can swim in it.

"Sometimes it's fun to run with the pack," counsels self-confessed lone wolf Chuck Norris. For the most part, you'd be well advised to choose the opposite direction.

A generic cop thriller that rumbles along thanks to a quality cast but ultimately offers nothing fresh.

Despite some affecting moments, the lumbering Parkland feels more like a well-researched magazine feature than an involving drama. As Billy Bob Thornton’s lawman says: “This was not supposed to happen.”

Get your ass to Mars? A handsome new sci-fi adventure that feels rather familiar. Enjoyable enough while it lasts, John Carter is big on ambition and disappointingly short on action.

A superior thriller, with Cruise and McQuarrie slotting together like a bullet in a clip. Like Reacher on the firing range, the aim isn't always true – but the misses are fractional.

It’s too raw and difficult for one target audience, but the erratic tone might leave sick puppies equally nonplussed. Gunn’s jibes at Bible-bashers and gun-nuts are as blunt as Frank’s attacks, and the clash of kooky comedy and violence is as awkward as it is ugly.

It’s a delight to watch Amy Adams do Jekyll and Hyde as she incrementally transforms from cheery Giselle to noxious stepmother, while Maya Rudolph is a whole heap of fun as the ultimate control-freak soccer mom who - of course - becomes queen when Monroeville turns into “one big fantasia”.

There’s Fassbender’s charisma, an unhinged Sean Harris and Tom Rowland music.

His state of mind goes some way to explaining the something-missing air of his last film, but it inspires to see how deeply he cares about his craft.

Leigh Whannell has done it again, bringing his talents back to the world of Universal monsters with a worthy update to another horror icon. With solid performances, impressive effects and well choreographed action, Wolf Man may be sappy in places but it wears its tragedy on its sleeve to heartrending effect and balances it out with plenty of scares.

In a film with obvious ambition, though, it’s a shame that it resorts to formula so quickly.

It’s hardly fresh, but the spectacle is decent and the relationship dynamics absorb just enough to fill the lengthy run time.

A so-so Christmas romance undercut by some baffling choices, musically and narratively. A wasted opportunity.

The film’s only let down by its too-frequent recourse to narrative cliché.

Marvel’s woes won’t be solved by a disjointed mini-Avengers that doesn't make a great deal of sense. But the cats are Flerken great.

It’s a slow-burning, well-acted thriller that’s only really let down in its third act: an unsatisfyingly limp denouement that fails to convey what’s at stake with any sort of suspense.

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.

A late fight scene is staged with verve, and Gilpin is good value in an underwritten role. But given the politically fractious times we live in, this inane satire is a colossal missed opportunity.

Populist fare from across the channel that will amply repay those ready to put the time in. The scenery, meanwhile, makes you want to run out and buy a timeshare.

Skarsgård and Peña relish their roles, but this pitch-black action-com feels like 100 gags in search of a storyline.

The material is a French classic, and Auteuil directs as such: this is cosy, undemanding heritage cinema.

Love Eurovision? You'll love this. Never heard of Eurovision? You may find it all bewildering.

The future as candy-coloured paranoid nightmare: not quite Gilliam’s best, but still the most satisfying movie he’s made for years.

Bickering turns to bonding over the course of a predictable affair that only comes to life during a Texan steak-eating contest that has Babs ingest a mountain of meat.

An action vehicle that, in trying to do it all, does a little too much; Johnson and Blunt keep it afloat.

At least until its Turning Red-ish plot becomes subsumed by a tiresome showdown finale, there’s a lot to take pleasure from here - not least the invertebrate protagonists’ amusing elasticity, which recalls the madcap fun of Tex Avery’s cartoon classics.

Although only slightly more outrageous than reality, The Campaign is a funny, pacy peek behind the political curtain.

Handicapped by its paper-thin premise, even a strong cast can’t lift Jake ‘son of Ridley’ Scott’s film out of indie-by-numbers mediocrity.

Impressive, if messy, the film combines kitchen-sink drama with found-footage horror, perjuring itself with too many plot possibilities.

Believers will be more interested in what he uncovers than the layman, who will soon identify this ’80s-set adap of Lee Strobel’s book as a tedious sermon that’s preaching to the converted.

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

Entertaining in its own way, though probably not in the way intended.

As a shocker, Scott Stewart’s (Priest) film is solid, but it’s the thoroughly depressing backdrop that you’ll take away.

The solemn score, plucky Brits and nasty Nazis are all familiar, but there’s a lived-in feel that transcends cliché.

A rubbish fright flick.

Binoche is, as always, superb, but Malgorzata Szumowska's film won't tell you much about the oldest profession that you didn't already know – and Binoche's marital clashes feel like a standard feminist tract circa 1975.

Uncomfortable viewing, then, but also engaging, unbridled cinema that will prompt discourse and divide opinions.

A highly enjoyable slice of in-one-eye, out-the-other nonsense. It may coast on the charisma of its leads at times, and it’s hardly deep, but there’s a Friday night to be had.

Huard’s charm offsets the plots contrivances, while Ken Scott’s finely balanced direction humanises the high concept.

Sadly, rather than provide insight into Boateng’s creative process, director Varon Bonicos is dazzled by the globetrotting, celeb-schmoozing lifestyle.

Performances pop as Earth gets the chop, with US politics, big business and social media going up in flames.

Sagnier is appealing in her first real romantic role and there’s Gallic charm galore.

Curveballs are rare in this pop-umentary on Earth’s biggest boyband; but with lengthy gig clips, lots of cute mucking-about (segways, disguises, hiding in wheelie bins) and Harry’s shirt off within the first 10 minutes, Directioners won’t be disappointed.

Two-parts entertainment to one-part frustration, Jim Kouf's Gang Related is like a diver who leaps promisingly into a triple twist - - only to smack his head against the board on the way back down.

With a riveting portrayal by Cumberbatch at its heart, The Fifth Estate tells its story grippingly - but finally leaves us none the wiser.

Warning: contains Jason Biggs' wang and the contents of Stifler's bowels. Happily, the fourth, funny, (possibly) final serving of American Pie is also warm and nostalgic enough to satisfy.

With robotic depictions of Iran's 'morality police', the political subtext is strictly one-dimensional. But with ace choreographer Akram Khan on board, the dancing is powerful.

Favoring charisma over character, this action-espionage thriller hangs lots of action – some solid, some ace – on a threadbare plot.

A credible, if slightly limited, prequel that recaptures the atmosphere if not the originality of Rosemary’s Baby.

The arid landscapes are handsomely shot, the set-pieces punchy and intimate, and the performances robust, with Portman reminding us just how good an actress she is as her no-nonsense Jane gets on with the business of survival.

Broken? Not quite, but certainly damaged. City offers star power, dashes of dazzle and plenty of movie nods. But Hughes’ thriller fails to locate a life of its own.

The Terminator story recharges with a post-apocalyptic jolt of energy. Frantic and full of welcome ties to the past, it also ploughs new ground with purpose.

Definitely not Killer Queen, but thanks to a blinding turn from Malek, fans of the band will get their kicks.

Weighed down with daft new characters and an overstretched story, the prehistoric saga is looking a bit old. On the other hand, it still has Scrat –which is all any movie really needs…

Alongside Sheehan’s charms, it’s Belleville’s intoxicating visuals that truly fire the imagination. India has rarely seemed so seductive.

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.

It's a rocky, at times patience-testing ride that plays something like a screwball riff on The Plot Against America, but Amsterdam is ultimately worth the trip.

Buckling under the influence of Downton Abbey, Rice apes its style but none of the substance to create an amiable study of posh hypocrisy without any real satire or social feeling.

Slicker than the original without the sudden lurches in quality, this second shaky-cam horror anthology still has a standout sequence by which all the others must be judged.

The ending may be a little too tidy and obvious, but this is a sweet little study of the right royal mess people can make of relationships when they let their own neuroses take over, and a warm tribute to overcoming them.

Too stodgy for B-movie suspense, too silly to shock, too sexist to stomach, Diesel’s return misfires.

Everybody does indeed have a plan in Ana Piterbarg’s ponderous Argentine noir – problem is, they’re all terrible.

There’s an emotional vacuum at its centre but Welcome To The Punch is an adrenalin shot to the heart of the Brit-crime genre.

A solid enough war flick, but Spielberg doesn’t have too much to worry about yet.

You'd think Greta Gerwig's bones were hurting, so achingly hip is this irritating New York indie.

Despite risking life and sanity, these American Dreamers are surprisingly cheerful, making for a light-hearted study of eccentric hobbyists.

An only moderately entertaining threequel that assumes a double dose of Carell will make up for missing Minions. It doesn’t.

Some entertaining bicker-banter, but you may feel like Venom craving human heads: undernourished and angsty for what could’ve been.