A master docu-maker gets the inside dope on a master dissembler. It requires stamina, but its charismatic subject exerts genuine magnetism.

It’s poorly made and in poorer taste.

Gormican’s script is the film’s big strength; the dialogue fizzes while the set-pieces pay off handsomely.

The Devil may have all the best tunes, but this really is the worst sort of cinematic karaoke.

A solid outing for a re-Bourne hero that could, with a few key tweaks, generate another round of vehicles for the Clancy cash cow.

For all its techno-focus, a very human love story about our need for connection. Strange, witty, honest and curiously comforting.

Rather than getting us on the ropes and landing some telling blows, Grudge Match keeps its distance and tosses meek jabs. Cheap sentimentality can’t disguise the crashing cynicism on display.

The Coen brothers on top sardonic form with a winning tale of an incorrigible loser. Hits the right note on every level, from period vibe to performance (human and feline).

Jan Ole Gerster’s deceptively slender character study has a complex undertow, subtly linking its wallflower anti-hero’s acceptance of his failings with his country’s wider atonement for its World War II past.

A haunting, hypnotic collage of archive footage and period recreations charting the pre-history of the teenager.

Massively unlikely, but compelling to the last, it makes a decent fist of conveying the strength of internet attachments, even if filtering the unfolding drama through endless computer screens becomes a well-worn device.

Visceral, vital and anchored by its earnest performances, this is a potent portrait of a shameful historical truth.

This classy adap of a much-garlanded stage play will appeal to discerning audiences who can tolerate unpleasant characters with potty mouths if they're played by Oscar winners.

Panh’s commentary – spoken in French by Randal Douc – searingly sets the context.

Although a bit over-neat in its contrasts between the respective families, Like Father, Like Son remains an affecting film, thanks to Fukuyama’s understated turn and Koreeda’s typically graceful visual storytelling.

“I will search for you through 1,000 worlds and 10,000 lifetimes!” Reeves promises his beloved. Anyone who sits all the way through this glossy folly will know exactly how that feels.

Like most daydreams, The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty is funny, sad, weird and corny all at once – and you’ll probably only remember the good bits as soon as it’s finished. But it’s still a lot better than real life.

With no 3D, no friends and no hope, Redford and Chandor show how survivalist instincts can stoke thrilling, thoughtful cinema. If Gravity grabbed you, hop aboard and hold tight.

A touch too long, yet never slack, at three hours, TWOWS benefits from independent funding, Scorsese’s brass balls and an A-grade cast’s turbulent improvisations to emerge as an epic, boldly broad screwball comedy about the state of America, then and now.

Bigger and broader than before, Ron’s return occasionally feels like autocue’d sequel-making. But it spikes old news with enough fresh comic zip to keep you hooked through the self-indulgent stretches.

Fear falls short of fantastic yet it’s a decent effort that, like Pegg’s beard, proves to be something of a grower.

Brutally simple and brilliantly told, channeling everything from the Coens to Korean masters to create a blood-curdling black comedy.

The resulting pickle may seem alien to many, but Yaron’s navigation of Shira’s struggles make it tangible.

There are star names in the cast – Sylvester McCoy, John Hannah, Samantha Barks – but ultimately the film rests on Boyle, who sadly has all the acting nuance of a Speak N’ Spell.

The well-worn platitudes and pained moralising are a bit much, but the music is tremendous.

Alas, director Courtney Solomon burns out all the cool potential, leaving us with a witless and unforgivably tame car wreck.

An unfathomably airless B-movie that betrays its USP by spreading the thrills too thinly. You can see why Stallone had second thoughts.

To its credit, Spike Lee’s remake isn’t a slavish imitation. On the other hand, its grit is a grey substitute for the original’s vision and verve. Disappointing.