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.