Grindhouse with giggles, this potboiler parody offers just enough to avoid being a curio – not least Ferrell at his straight-faced best. Arriba!

Flawlessly designed, with the beautiful 3D cinematography contrasting the clean white futurism of Prometheus' interiors with the black corporeal surfaces of the alien catacombs.

 It might not pack the unbearable menace or blazing horror of the saga's first two movies, but it utterly eclipses the last two. It's exciting, tense and fully impregnated for sequels.

A visually inventive, deliciously dark fairytale reheat. The story's far from the stuff of legend, but Theron makes for a ferocious meanie, helping to flush away "Mirror Mirror's" sugary aftertaste.

Its overview of the baby experience is obscured by a family-values lens – no single/same-sex parents - resulting in an awful ensemble comedy to complete that "Valentine's Day" / "New Year's Eve" box-set, complete with sexist clichés.

Tarr risks self-parody with recurring scenes of the pair tucking into scalding potatoes, but if you've got the stomach for it this is an intoxicating vision of life at the end of its tether.

Anders Danielsen Lie gives a compelling, deep-etched lead turn, and you'll find yourself drawn in as he searches for a reason to continue living.

Fleet, funny, impeccably orchestrated: whimsical Wes returns on top of his game. Non-fans might call it over-familiar comfort cinema but with the craft so loving and new elements so well-integrated, his singular pitch remains a thing to cherish.

In a summer hardly starved of comic-book properties, this redundant extension of a series that ran out of gas a decade ago doesn't need a neuralyzer to be forgettable.

"Welcome to rock bottom!" sighs Hasselhoff at one stage, pretty much summing up this textbook exercise in sloppy seconds. Here's hoping the piranhas have a better agent than he does.

Cool cast, hip directors, but a movie that's less than the sum of both. Like its title character, Jeff is gentle, warm but a little forgettable.

Outrageous, outlandish and overboard, The Dictator will satisfy Cohen's army of fans. But it never feels as funny, full-on or fresh as "Borat" and "Brüno."

One of the strangest mainstream releases of recent times, Dark Shadows' demented gothic melodrama/fish-out-of-water comedy/creature feature feels like you've slipped into a Burton fever-dream.

As Jonathan Pryce reads passages and academic voices take turns to chew over Sebald's visionary opus, B&W footage of country roadsides and wind-blasted coastlines turns rural Suffolk into something truly otherworldly.

A through-and-through weepie that's unlikely to convert any Sparks naysayers. The darker hues of its war-based story nonetheless make the sugary excesses easier to swallow.

With Yakin's all-action plot operating like clockwork, an on-song Statham proves anything but expendable in a genre he dominates. Predictable, sure, but equally pleasurable.

The result is a shrewd look at classroom etiquette and an achingly sad study of grief-stricken solitude, built on ace performances by Fellag and the kids-especially 11-year-old scene stealer Sophie Nélisse.

Technically impressive, genre-smart and nerve-shredding while it lasts, Silent House is really just a fun campfire horror tale.

It's not quite "Before Sunrise" with mud and portaloos then, but warm vibes, buzzy crowd scenes and the two leads' enthusiasm will pull you through to the morning after.

Too long and with too many characters to get through, Mother's Day holds effective sequences, ramming home its (recycled) message: the animal lurks in us all.

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.

Some will find Camille too self-absorbed, yet writer/director Mia Hansen-Løve (Father Of My Children) conjures poignancy, grace and a feel for symbolic seasonal change that's positively Renoir-esque.

The pleasure of seeing a supergroup of Brit-veterans soon withers in an OAP comedy that plumps for light laughs over deeper insights.

While the marriage of fluffy comedy and terminal illness was always going to be an uncomfortable one, this is an understated, genuinely poignant weepie bolstered by a top-drawer cast.

Kirk, who wed Fischer in 2010, perfectly captures her all-thumbs charm, and ubiquitous character actor Messina steps into the lead with ease, showing off some impressive mime skills to boot.

Big, brash and very funny, Joss Whedon's Avengers Assemble is equal to the sum of its parts – and for once, that's no faint praise. Suit up.

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.

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.

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.

Luc Besson's clunky, space-bound actioner apes '80s B-flick excess but skimps on all the good parts. Fans of really bad science and pixelated CGI won't be disappointed, though.

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

Good performances, but it's difficult to give two hoots about Close's passion project when the story remains as pinched and hermetic as poor little Albert Nobbs himself.

2012 is the year of the Muppet, and we don't mean Ashton Kutcher. After Jason Segel's fur-filled revival, rejoice in a documentary to make you laugh and, yes, cry.

Every second is earned in Macdonald's long, generous and rigorously detailed Bob doc. You might wish for more live material but what's here is stirring, probing and moving.

You might think that spousal bereavement and whimsical romantic comedy would make uneasy bedfellows, and you'd be somewhat right, as the debut from French duo Stéphane and David Foenkinos doesn't quite reconcile the divide between premise and tone.

Misguided in the extreme. A scene in which Kitsch and co aim blindly for the broadest of targets – and miss by miles – proves painfully apt.

A nice blend of Scandinavian sophistication and Hollywood slickness, Headhunters is an entertaining Nordic noir achievement – and sure to be tagged as this year's "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo."

A super-entertaining, super-slick love/hate letter to horror with a final 20 minutes that's stunningly bonkers.

This is a chilling portrayal of a deeply unsympathetic protagonist.

A touching tribute interweaves with tough storytelling.

To borrow a line Roberts spits at Collins, there's something about Mirror that's incredibly irritating. Fingers crossed Huntsman has more edge.

Leaner, meaner, and far superior to 2010's Clash cock-up. From top-grade 3D to a multitude of monsters and a welcome influx of acting talent, this is pure popcorn pleasure.

Nasheed may be a small fish in a big geopolitical pond, but his enterprise and optimism are a welcome complement to eco doc doom and gloom.

Though we'd love to see how Aardman handle Defoe's followup, An Adventure With Communists, this amiable but overstretched diversion is unlikely to spawn a Caribbean franchise.

Kaurismäki adeptly weaves rockabilly musical interludes, a stylised colourscheme and droll performances into a warm-hearted salute to both classical French cinema and working-class solidarity.

Reversing his "Take Shelter" role, Michael Shannon convinces as her grounded husband and "Mad Men's" John Slattery offers good support as a fellow vet. But this is Cardellini's film, and she dominates with a terrific, tough-minded turn.

Lionising the pulverising, this is more fun than it has any right to be. The hockey technicalities may alienate, yet the demented, bone-crunching scraps, war-time team mentality and Whip-It style anarchy is addictive.

Tiny Furniture announces Dunham as a talent to watch.

Drawing on revealing clips from Panahi's previous films, TINAF reveals not only the realities of artistic censorship, but its firework-laden finale shows how cinema thrives on spontaneity.

Herzog's tapestry testifies to life's light from death's darkness. Its honest humanity and sideways-on character bare his illuminating imprint.

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.

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.

It's slight, sure, and there's a better, less-glossy film buried in the material, but warm performances redeem Crowe's agreeable return.

The film never hides its uncomfortable truths in the shadows.

A documentary that'll make more than just fashionistas smile.

Closer in metaphysical spirit to Kiarostami than to Leone, it lingers thanks to beautifully lit widescreen images of lived-in faces and barren, beautiful landscapes.

This voiceover is one of many perplexing elements in this ridiculously pumped-up military recruitment video, which intersperses brilliant and immersive combat scenes with excruciating comradely banter.

Good enough to survive evoking "Bicycle Thieves" and "The 400 Blows," this small story contains universal truths, told with irresistible force.

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.

As implausible as the stars' gleaming choppers.

What's remarkable is the lack of cheese. Tacky effects, corny dialogue and creaky performances are all shown the door. We repeat: not the new "Twilight".

Largely gung-ho nonsense, but it’s always a pleasure to see J.K. Simmons in ball-busting mode, barking words like “simpletons!” at his men.

Firth is terrific in an unbelievable-but-true tale that charts a course from the ridiculous to the profound.

Rural life is familiar terrain for British cinema, but with Barnard as our guide, it remains an enthralling destination.

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.

A stellar performance from Geoffrey Rush centres this diverting glimpse into the chaotic life of a great artist.

The Death of Stalin review: "A frighteningly funny satire that finds humour in historical horror"

Enjoyably acted by a fine ensemble cast, it crisply skewers the hypocrisies of its left-liberal, middle-class characters.

Entertaining, engrossing and at times genuinely unnerving, Bruckner’s bad trip is one for horror fans to relish.

If the imagery is less racy than TOF fans may be used to, Pekka Strang’s quiet turn as Laaksonen has a simmering power.

Deliberately paced and expertly acted by a weathered ensemble including Hugo Weaving, Mystery Road also boasts some of cinema’s most gorgeous magic-hour photography even if, elsewhere, light is in perilously short supply.

The culture clash comedy cleaves to predictability but the story’s specificity sustains its perceptive look at the human impact of post-9/11 jingoism.

It takes real talent to make something so studied feel this soufflé-light, especially in the Hatchers’ charming naturalism. Trouble is, Bujalski is too successful – in the end, everything is left hanging.

Andersson’s movie reveals poetic ironies, surreal slapstick and melancholy truths, often all wrapped up together.

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.

Buoyant, buffed and with the promise of even better to come, this is the freshest Trek in decades.

Origins is an accomplished slice of comic-book entertainment, full of fights and action set-pieces impressive for a director touching big budget for the first time.

The car-nage that ensues is confined to a maze of underground tunnels, too dark and claustrophobic a setting to appreciate stunt scenes already made hard to follow by the epileptic editing.

This is 007 in mid-story crisis; a festival of blaring action set-pieces propping up a scrappy script and undercooked characters.

For most of the film’s running time, Wain refuses to give in to mush or melodrama, preferring to prod hopelessly dysfunctional characters into uneasy duels, just to see who blinks first.

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.

Limp, transparently plotted flight fodder. Jilt it.

Smith casts non-pro Venkatesh Chavan alongside Bollywood star Nana Patekar to achieve credible chemistry, enhanced by his choice of quiet observation rather than Slumdog -style pizzazz and the delicate emotional kick and finespun simplicity of a short story.

Let it be said that it’s such a fearless, fierce, menacing turn that comparisons with Jack Nicholson don’t come into it. This is the definitive Joker.

Gusman is sullenly magnificent; you can’t fault the movie’s realism either, shot in an actual prison and soberly reflecting some acute social problems. But the movie’s muggy pace makes you feel that you’ve served every day of Julia’s sentence with her.

For all its garish aesthetics, sly feminism and wall-to-wall nudity, writer/director Anne Biller’s camp-com is almost too much of a good thing, outstaying its welcome at a paint-drying two hours.

Based on an oft-adapted ’60s sci-fi novel, this charming, visually fertile film captures the conflicted emotions of first love and embarrassment of being a teen with real sensitivity.

[A] highly idiosyncratic semi-musical.

As Stallone’s gentle gift for funny, engaging, naturalistic dialogue starts to take hold, the movie fills up with tiny, poignant moments. Scuffed with heartfelt sincerity and naïve emotionalism, it’s a film that makes little people bigger than life.

Bond 21 is refreshed yet faithful, any grumbles easily quashed by Craig's powerful presence. The suit fits. And he wears it well.

It’s all still loose breakin’ cars and looser lovin’ women; for petrol-headed single teens only, eager for (surely) the last bit of mileage to be milked from the concept.

Here is a film where every frame feels individually designed, with saturated colour and symmetry reflecting the texture and natural wonder of the environment.

Forgive the blasts of nu-metal. Forget the blunted satire. And allow for the obligatory, they-have-our-blessing cameos. This, as Snyder puts it, is Dawn Of The Dead on "steroids". And it's a blast.

Yes, it's effectively a feature-length vid and, occasionally, the synergy of beats and visuals slip as the manga-shaped action doesn't quite match the tunes. But it largely works, the spectacular space-disco-opera sensibilities ensuring that Interstella shimmers with verve throughout.

Not quite as good as the original, but John Singleton's boyz-and-their-customised-hoods sequel won't disappoint. Settle back, hang on and smell that rubber.

The H2O theme fits in with the main feature, its tale of a clownfish searching for his son constituting Pixar’s most effective amalgam of comedy, artistry and emotional pull.

Die Another Day simply blows the competition away. If you want excitement, laughs and pure sex appeal, remember one thing: Bond's really do have more fun.

A gutsy, first-rate, full-blooded ghost story, as elegant as it is eerie and brilliantly realised. Blending terror with tenderness, Guillermo Del Toro has crafted something both traditional and original: a sun-kissed gothic horror.

Alluring and unnerving, Lynch’s horror-show reminds us how much cinema misses him. Watts is electric, too.