Charmless, mirthless and witless, this waste of time is another black mark on Depp’s card, while his co-stars fare little better. Even low expectations won’t help you here.

Both visually and in the action stakes, Jupiter Ascending could give pretty much any space movie a run for its money.

Powerful drama, driven by a powerhouse performance, Selma is this year’s Lincoln. For Oyelowo and DuVernay, it’s a career changer.

Molina and Lithgow shine as newlywed grumpy old men in a moving love story that’s also a masterclass in emotional subtlety.

Wahlberg finds his most interesting role since The Departed in a film that’s heavy on atmosphere and suspense but shy of a full deck when it comes to characterisation.

After "Frozen," Disney delivers a heart-melter. The sweet, witty main pairing focuses a potentially busy, derivative super-group tale. Stay for the sting: Big Hero 7 is practically a given.

If not quite on a par with PTA’s best, this is still a richly intoxicating brew of humour, violence and melancholy.

Never sure if it wants to be a hard-edged character drama or pacy action-thriller, Son Of A Gun has plenty to admire between the tonal wobbles.

An oblique, overlong film from French fashion designer Agnès B, whose arty flourishes and wooden dialogue are as intrusive as the blaring Vivaldi score.

This muted procedural promises more than it can deliver.

Korean maestro Bong Joon-ho’s (The Host) playfully off-kilter Hitchcockian thriller refuses to play by genre rules, stir-frying slow-burn menace and Freudian drama into unpredictable combinations.

Haggis struggles to make his presence felt over ludicrous thrills, but Crowe is superb and the entertainment factor high.

A challenging watch, steeped in numbing horror.

A sombre crimer that resists easy thrills, investing instead in grit, intelligence and complex characterisation.

It plays like Frankenstein meets Blade Runner via Hitchcock haunted by the ghosts of Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations, in a film that’s both highly literate and steeped in tense cat-and-mouse chills. Thematically epic – it demands to be seen at least twice and should fuel hours of debate — structurally it’s as lithe as Ava’s perfect mesh frame.

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.

Arrietty’s craft and charm will invite universal acclaim.

Initially promising, this Aussie weepie branches unconvincingly into magic realism, with symbolism so clunky it hampers Gainsbourg’s involving turn.

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.

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

It’s technically a doc, but neither Rivers nor his inscrutable subject is interested in backstory.

It’s a poetic elegy to a lost tribe that conjures up the Meryans’ secret lifestyle via surreal rituals and stunning widescreen visuals, although an over-explained voiceover and clunky symbolism sometimes weaken the spell.

Matthew Akers’ document of the event skews close to hagiography but is consistently informative in charting Abramović’s career, and genuinely engaging thanks to his subject’s witty, unpretentious presence.

The resulting puff-piece is a warning to crusading filmmakers about what happens after they’ve beaten the system.

Astonishing macro-photography captures the bees in all their surreal beauty, presenting a tribute to nature’s “messenger of love” and a warning of what might be lost.

Im Sang-Soo’s exposé of a Seoul family corporation is stymied by a humourless regurgitation of observations about power, corruption and lies.

Terence Nance’s unique film, freely mixing autobiography, animation and artiness, is a dizzyingly complex collage about romance and memory.

Propelled by Lust’s performance, this is a fascinating study of solitude and sociopathic obsession, up to a point.