A feel good sequel only marmalade haters could resist.

Disturbing and often distressing, but compulsively watchable.

The film reveals how patriarchal values clash with the desires of its female characters to lead more emancipated lives.

Peachy keen. A luminous, sun-kissed Italian love story brimming with warmth, passion and feeling. This is utterly unmissable.

This is a Marvel movie that knows when to embrace the ridiculous and when to puncture any pomposity, and it's a delight from start to big finish. And yes, you do need to stay to the very very end of the credits.

Despite some appealing lensing and an edgier tone than a lot of Christian dramas (nudity, swearing, and in one memorable moment, self-cannibalism), this is a movie with zero subtext and even less subtlety.

An animated film like no other, Loving Vincent is a staggering visual achievement.

All the signs pointed to a hit chiller: great cast, a director with fantastic form and a celebrated Jo Nesbø novel to draw from. So it’s a huge shame, then, that The Snowman is a bit grey and slushy when it should have been cool and crisp.

Tots will enjoy, but there’s no denying the pieces don’t quite click together. Best giant moggy since The Goodies, mind.

Incendiary storytelling with nuanced performances, but the transition from stage to screen lacks focus.

An exquisitely crafted sequel that stands shoulder to shoulder with one of the greatest films ever made. Everyone involved is operating at the height of their powers.

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.

An engrossing biopic. More than just another author/creation story, Curtis’ film has things to say about celebrity, wartime and family.

Fun, fleeting entertainment if you’re after more of the same, but fails to carve out any fresh ground.

From the generic title to the formulaic plot (stolen plutonium, highest bidder etc.), you can imagine the rest. But director Michael Cuesta (Kill the Messenger) injects vitality where it’s needed.

[Bertrand Tavernier] pays heartfelt tribute to the directors, stars and composers who ignited his passion.

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.

This funny, touching adap of Shrabani Basu’s 2010 biography has its own chemistry, withering wit and unsentimental message of acceptance. A royal treat.

The plotting is tangled, the emotional undertow slight, but the action keeps on coming, including a blistering multi-player sword fight on speeding bikes.

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

Aronofsky’s maternal horror is the most out-there studio movie of the year. You won’t believe your eyes.

A rubbish fright flick.

What emerges is as riveting as it is revelatory.

Earnest intentions may be behind this bawdy yet heartfelt sport-quel, but it’s a largely unnecessary rematch.

Thrilling and haunting, pitching the power of adventure and friendship against the day-to-day horrors of childhood and a chilling Pennywise. An absolute scream.

Sheridan directs as well as writes for the first time, and delivers a superb thriller with a powerful chill that gets in your bones. Smart, tense and soulful.

An intriguing tale of faith under pressure emerges, but it’s too slow and simple to truly convince.

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