An outdated oddity.

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

The leads make sweet music in an affecting four-piece that, if not note perfect, plays well to their individual strengths. A marked improvement overall on this year’s other Quartet.

“Rock solid,” is Bruce Willis’ nod-wink appraisal of an attack strategy in G.I. Joe: Retaliation. The film’s nowhere near as sturdy, trundling out middling action and nonsensical plotting.

Packed with fine performances, this attack on suburban conformity is surprising, darkly hilarious and cleverly leaves the insanity judgement to its audience.

Sprinting to the edge of preposterousness and back, this deliriously entertaining day-glo noir of fried brains and blown fuses denotes a director at the top of his game.

Brave, brash and exhilarating, but lacking the insight and impact of the Korine-scripted "Kids" (1995). Too much fun for social commentary, this is what you wish school was like.

What distinguishes My Brother The Devil is El Hosaini’s maturity in avoiding faux-doc grittiness, political grandstanding or flashy glorification in favour of an intimate, closely observed character piece.

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

It’s a premise that sounds like the silliest of celebrity vanity but is, in fact, presented as an endearing portrayal of Rastafari culture, spiritual exploration and Snoop’s own past, present and future.

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.

The kills are inventive but Noble’s baggy trousered butcher is too sympathetic, and his teenage victims too generic for this to be in anyway scary.

The doltish, messy and frequently incoherent result bears all the hallmarks of a botched and compromised endeavour.

Melissa McCarthy’s over-the-top performance as a low-rung grifter enlivens what is otherwise a groan-worthy odd-couple comedy.

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.

Carell and Carrey shine like sequinned suits in a comedy that allows them endless fun with the dressing-up box. More narrative verve and it could’ve been The Prestige in a big-cat wig.

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.

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

But for the most part it’s Neanderthal compared to the Pixar stable.

Spearheaded by a strikingly self-assured turn from Elle Fanning, this ’60s-set coming-of-ager follows two teenage girls whose bond starts to crumble under the emotional and political pressures of adulthood.

In his feature debut, Swiss director Baran bo Odar counterpoints the tranquillity of the landscape with the mental torment of everyone involved, and what could have been just another serial-killer whodunit becomes a complex study of grief, obsession and the persistence of guilt.

Director Dominik Moll makes some odd style choices – like Looney Tunes-style ‘iris wipes’ – and it’s a while before Cassel fully embraces his dark side, yet his customary charisma is what seals The Monk’s redemption.

A feelgooder spiced by social conscience, this is one of those underdog productions with potential to punch well above its weight.

To The Wonder doesn’t quite live up to the sky-high expectations set by his earlier films. But it’s still a brave, soul-stirring and sensitive work.

For all its bleak edges, The Angels’ Share warms like a sip of the good stuff.

Arduous yet always absorbing, Cristian Mungiu’s first full-length feature since 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days is inspired by a real-life case of a tragically botched exorcism in rural Romania.

Careful, kids – rock’n’roll can get you pregnant. Or that’s what one Mormon teen believes in this cute lo-fi indie from first-timer Rebecca Thomas.

A lavishly mounted re-telling that, for all its good intentions and visual wonders, can’t help seeming surplus to requirements.

[A] fresh, eerie twist on urban horror.

Banderas hams and Pinto flutters. If it weren’t for Strong and some colourful art direction, you could chalk this up as a busted well.

Park Chan-wook brings operatic finesse to generic material in his tight-wound, wickedly weird US debut. And Mia Wasikowska nails it.

As much as Nicholas Jarecki’s debut feature simmers, it never quite boils.

“Ever since I discovered art,” laments one participant, “this cell has truly become a prison.”

By the numbers even by Sparks’ standards.

A semi-successful slice of Southern gothic panto. 


All prologue and no pay-off, but compelling all the same, this curio plays out like Diary Of The Dead with more diaries and fewer dead.

Playful, patient and finally poignant, Schreier’s deceptively placid odd-couple winner runs the risk of looking minor. But it carefully exceeds expectation, helped in no small measure by Langella’s wily, wistful lead.

This oblique and understated tale of lost innocence conveys both an individual’s experiences and a powerful sense of a ruined nation.

A grindhouse mix of "Wild Things," "Killer Joe" and "Streetcar Named Desire," The Paperboy won’t be for all. But it boasts a soupy atmosphere and Kidman’s best turn for years.

Daniel Craig makes a decent fist of the narration. But you could also do without its gush about the “incredible journey” all beings on the planet share.

“That was exciting!” says Willis after he and Courtney survive a 20-storey leap through a plate glass window. “Want to go again?” Frankly, Bruce, we’re fine to leave it here.

A Frankenstein’s monster of comedy, romance and horror that’s less than its parts, Warm Bodies entertains but underwhelms.

A grand folly that makes the Wachowskis’ "The Matrix" trilogy look prosaic, Cloud Atlas is a fascinating if flawed work that will leave you gasping one minute and gagging the next.

Though it gives good splat and the scenery’s to die for, Hansel & Gretel gets just about everything wrong. Hammy, boring, chronically unfunny - there’ll be nightmares before bedtime.

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.

He might have lost his edge, but Parker hasn’t mellowed in his old age. A sunny, silly, violent revenger that puts Statham in good company.

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.

“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."

Kim Jee-woon's riff on the western is an entertaining frolic back-loaded with gore and guffaws. Arnie's back!

Quite why A-listers Kate Winslet, Hugh Jackman and Emma Stone (among others) aligned themselves with this excruciatingly moronic compilation of shorts is anybody's guess.

This is a perceptive, warm-hearted work, anchored by Knoller's impressively less-is-more performance.

With film labs closing down and new formats springing up all the time, this is a timely stock-take of 21st Century cinema.

The leads are fine, but the movie's about as fun as summer school.

A Disney flick that feels like on-form Pixar, blending knowing humour and sophistication with a large helping of heart. You'll want another go.

Stallone's shtick keeps it from collapsing into farce but, overall, Bullet To The Head is too derivative and disposable to warrant serious attention.

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

Playing For Keeps is awful – and not in a hilarious Ed Wood way.

The kids are charmless, the writing is bland, and the embarrassing jokes sound like nails down a blackboard.

Apatow's return creates a pleasantly sprawling, perceptive study of mid-life angst that never lacks for laughs. Promoting Rudd and Mann from Knocked Up's margins to centre stage proves to be a shrewd move.

Steeped in the bitter political divisions of the Civil War, Spielberg's thrilling film about hardwon freedoms is immersed in its own time, but speaks eloquently to ours.

Breathlessly tense, thrillingly orchestrated and intellectually complex, this damn fine piece of rigorous, meticulous filmmaking enhances Kathryn Bigelow's status as one of her generation's most accomplished directors.

Sadly, this leap onto the stereoscopic bandwagon marks a new low for the franchise, as far away in quality from the '74 original as it is in years.

Typified by Penn's blustery performance, Gangster Squad is sleek, stylish but superficial. Easy on the eye, even easier on the brain, it doesn't last long in the memory.

There's enough gore, ideas and self-aware absurdity here to make it something a bit more enticing than merely "Alien: The EastEnders Redux."

Tarantino's three-hour feast of Southern-fried trash cinema might be too much – and too bloody – for certain constitutions, but the rewards are plentiful. Be sure to hunt it down.

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.

Not only has director Christian Petzold assembled a fascinating hill of beans, but there's a moonlit scene that almost alone justifies his Silver Bear win at Berlin.

This blend of tongue-in-cheek exoticism and desire so strong it makes crocodiles melancholic amply rewards your patience.

Marshalling formidable technique and force of feeling, Bayona's tale of courage and empathy in the face of catastrophe fulfils his debut's promise, its harrowing conviction hammered home even harder by the spot-on casting.

As cozy as a mug of Horlicks inside an electric blanket, Hoffman's film couldn't offend if it tried. Age, however, has yet to wither its veterans' undimmed star appeal.

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.

Vile's moving documentary can't go wrong with such an inspiring, funny and genuinely nice guy taking the spotlight he deserves.

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.

Charming, spectacular, technically audacious… in short, everything you expect from a Peter Jackson movie. A feeling of familiarity does take hold in places, but this is an epically entertaining first course.

It may lose its way on occasions, but thanks to a committed cast and a script that captures the Kerouac vibe, Salles' adaptation never ends up on the road to nowhere.

A classy cast and Frears' light touch can't help this innocent abroad dramedy into the winner's enclosure. More jeopardy, less laboured larking, and it could've romped home.

Packing two terrific turns and an offbeat spirit, this coming-of-middle-age comedy is an unexpected treat.

Forceful and arresting, Ayer's follow-up to "Harsh Times" and "Street Kings" sees him confidently playing to his strengths.

Miscast and underwritten, Alex Cross does not reinvent Tyler Perry, or James Patterson's character, or anything, really. The only appeal here is the sick kick of watching a franchise blow itself to bloody stumps.

This honest, if not funny, comedy is all about Celeste. If anyone can make you sympathise with affluent LA yuppies, Rashida Jones can.

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.

Gleeks and Glee-haters alike should rally around this raucous musical comedy. Rebel Wilson is hilarious, Anna Kendrick is terrific and there are as many gross-out gags as there are singing numbers.

Two fine performances - particularly from an unhinged Winstead - almost elevate Smashed to greatness. But an under-worked script leaves you feeling groggy and bleary-eyed by the end.

More "oooh… aaah" than "ho-ho-ho", ROTG is so full of yuletide razzmatazz that only true Scrooges will have trouble stomaching it. If only Santa's workshop had given the script more of a tinker...

Saluting both America's national pastime and its oldest working icon, Curve is a solid heart-tugger that plays with a straight bat when it comes to plot, character and message.

A superbly detailed account of a notorious miscarriage of justice and how it was gradually unravelled. It's a tad overlong, but the passion, skill and revelations on display will captivate you.

A riot of saturated colour and delirious imagination, Ang Lee's adap radiates spirituality. But it's also a simple, thrilling and gently uplifting tale of a boy, a boat and a tiger. Take the plunge.

The ensuing drama is typically Scandinavian in the best way possible – the setting's beautiful, the tensions slow-burning. Meanwhile, musical interludes courtesy of a barbershop quartet lend a playful undertone.

Cue 105 painful minutes of a fat guy getting punched in the face and falling down.

Between its farcical script, soulless relationships and waxwork performances, this is a final chapter that will please only the most devout fans. At least the bleeding wolves have stopped talking.

A compassionate, masterful work that deservedly won Haneke a second Palme d'Or after "The White Ribbon's" 2009 victory. Best to avoid on a first date, though.

The stand-out, though, is Mikkel Boe Folsgaard as the King. Teetering on the edge of sanity, he is both detestable and sympathetic.

With potent performers and poetic visuals, Anderson has made the boldest American picture of the year. Its strangeness can be hard to process, but this is a shattering study of the impossibility of recovering the past.

The cast try hard and are rewarded with some zesty dialogue, but remain shackled to the girl-with-dead-dad-grows-up formula.

The nurse-monsters look cool - think HR Giger in Ann Summers kit - but the plot and burning fairgrounds are so OTT they dispel any chill factor.

Drawing affecting performances from a fledgling cast, Defurne's film is a poignant snapshot of square-peg adolescent desire, vibrantly set against a colourful backdrop.

All right, it's not up there with "Bridesmaids" but, thanks to a game Graynor (here channelling a young Bette Midler), a revolving door of cameos and some gloriously smutty pillow talk, For A Good Time delivers, yes, exactly that.

Keep The Lights On feels lopsided in its focus on Erik, with Paul remaining a strangely remote object of the former's romantic devotion.