Sam Mendes succeeds against the odds in delivering a classic Bond film, almost effortlessly blending old and new takes on the character in a spellbinding and increasingly uncomfortable character drama. The acting is the strongest of any in the franchise, the script quite possibly the strongest, and whilst some have complained at a shortage of action, Skyfall gets right into its protagonists' heads. I have some low level quibbles - not with Bardem's Silva per se but certainly with the use of his implied sexual orientation, and the ambiguity of the post-reboot timeline is now downright confusing (was it actually undone?). But this is a thoroughly smart film, a complete departure from previous approaches, which now thankfully completely ignores the brief challenge from Bourne. The villain's motivations actually make sense, 007 is thoroughly humanised for the first time, and whilst there's an overwhelming sense of dread permeating the film, it's also enormous fun; the dialogue (particularly with the excellent Ben Whishaw's Q) fairly crackles. Mendes has proven you don't need to throw the baby out with the bathwater in order to make an all-time-great and quintessentially Bond film, just a great script and world class direction.

Quite rightly an ultra-violent shoot-em-up, Dredd ticks all the boxes. Based on the characters from the characters from 2000AD created by Wagner & Ezquerra It never tries to be more than it is, and with Karl Urban growling like he's auditioning for Batman, director Pete Travis and writer Alex Garland utterly nail the tone. The dystopian future of MegaCityOne is grittily realised, with post-apocalyptic justice meted out by Judges that embody the law - Dredd the most ruthless of them all. Nothing much happens other than Dredd and rookie Anderson (the excellent Olivia Thirlby) get sent to investigate a multiple murder in 200 storey tower block PeachTrees, owned in all but name by gangster Ma-Ma (Lena Headey), get trapped in it and end end up having to shoot their way back out. No need for characterisation, this is all about mindless violence, and unapologetically so. It's not entirely without characterisation though - Dredd does develop an uneasy relationship with the psychic Anderson, just never at the expense of him being an utterly unrepentant hardass. It gleeful evokes similar ultra-violent films of the eighties, and you half expect Arnie to come in barking catchphrases, but Urban more than ably acquits himself doing just that. So this rebooted universe could have been fleshed out a bit more fully, but it's a small quibble. Anderson becomes a dominant character in her own right, there are plenty of laugh-out-loud moments, and the film shows it's not just superheroes succeeding in milking the comic book trend in the cinema right now. Looking forward to universe building in the sequel!

As soon as I saw Tony Gilroy had directed 'Michael Clayton' it all started to make more sense. That Clooney-starrer bored me to tears and had no discernible plot, and that's exactly what you get with this utterly unnecessary film as well. A film laden with needless exposition (very little is actually going on), and with relentless signposting for the hard of thinking, Bourne 4 is an embarrassment to all concerned. What passes for a 'legacy' is Jason Bourne's successful escape at the end of Ultimatum, having caused various US government spooks (led by Ed Norton) to kill everyone else in Bourne's super-spy programme. A notable target for assassination is Aaron Cross (Renner), but Cross is as good as he was programmed to be, and is soon on the run. It's hardly believable that this film was written by the same man responsible for the Matt Damon trilogy - it's clumsy, one-note and utterly bereft of characterisation. Renner is wasted trying to act a role which is offered no hint of characterisation, other than a generalised altruism whilst on the run after saving super scientist Weisz, who upon realising her predicament, offers to save his life with a cure for his incomplete conversion into a super spy. The two run to Manilla, avoid getting murdered by a super villain Norton oh-so-conveniently has on call, and that's it. Oh yeh and Gilroy takes two hours to bring this all about. The action sequences aren't much to write home about, and you have to wait for most of them until the intrepid couple reaches the Philippines, parkour and everything. It feels written to order, in the absence of any need for a fourth instalment, but nonsense ranging from Weisz's deus-ex-machina 'magic virus' through to the one-note villainy throughout make it particularly cringe-worthy, right through to the inevitable sequel set-up. I didn't care one bit about a single character and won't be coming back next time.

Not actually a bad film, but it ends as superficially as it begins, never really investigating the world it depicts with anything other than a cursory nod. Whilst the stripping is enormous fun, and you *really can* see where Tatum's reputation comes from, the character dynamics are shallow, and the story has very little to offer, other than 'stripper decides to take control of his life, grows up and gets his girl'. Given the film's initial unapologetic attitude towards the profession, it seems strange that it would shift in tone so wildly about half way through. The predictable storyline aside, the performances are enjoyable (if not altogether impressive), and it was nice to see not just that Tatum could hold a film on his own, but that Alex Pettyfer could in fact act. But both of them were eclipsed by Matthew McConaughey as Tatum's business partner, who chews up every single scene he's in (one of them with added bongo drums). It's a shame that the subplot involving him developing the business outside of suburban Tampa isn't followed up on. It's a shame that a great deal isn't followed up on, from a logical impact of Tatum's bailing Pettyfer out, through to Pettyfer's own decline. His beauty on display may have been highly impressive, but his character never ultimately matters. It's definitely a film of two halves, one more consistent than the other. We never really learn anything substantial about any of the characters (McConaughey offers the most but is never allowed to shine as fully as he might), and what passes for character development is painfully superficial. Cody Horn is woefully underused as the sister/love interest, who never really influences either of the leads with anything other than an aggressive pout. The dance sequences are genuinely impressive, as are the strippers physiques, and it would be churlish to suggest the film doesn't have any entertainment value. As long as you don't demand anything more of it than enjoyment of the bodies on display, you should enjoy yourself.

It's nowhere near as strong as its much lauded predecessor, but Christopher Nolan's swansong helming the Bat franchise is still a pretty great effort. Having something to say about the nature of family and heroism, whilst having a very sharp commentary about the Occupy movement, Rises only really suffers from being far too long, and burdened with dialogue which at times would have made The Avengers' Joss Whedon cringe with disappointment. Bruce Wayne retired the batsuit eight years ago, after the events of Dark Knight, and has since lived the life of a recluse, that is until the intervention of Selina Kyle, out to steal from the rich, and case in point *him*. At the same time terrorist Bane is manoeuvring against Gotham for uncertain reasons, and hospitalises Jim Gordon in the process. Watching his and Gordon's flawed compromise to keep Harvey Dent's crime fighting legacy alive falling to pieces, Bruce resumes his role as the Batman to protect his city at any cost. The cost is enormous as Bruce finds he's at the epicentre of the plot against Gotham, and he starts to lose everything he held dear. Nolan takes far too long to tell what's a relatively straightforward story about Bruce's fall from grace, and the steps he needs to take to rise again and protect his city and legacy. It's balanced out though, chiefly by the subplot involving Joe Gordon Levitt's Det. Blake. The look this gives into the street level impact of the Batman's war on crime, and how he inspires ordinary Gothamites is one of the strongest elements of the film. A little less of Bruce's ordeal in 'the pit' and a fair bit more of Blake may have made for a more balanced movie, but the third act war for Gotham is spectacularly well done, the conclusion even more so. Nolan makes a couple of notable nods to Frank Miller's Dark Knight Returns in his sign off, to make it all the more satisfying a conclusion. It's a well acted piece, with Morgan Freeman and Michael Caine standing out as they would, but it's Anne Hathaway's turn as Catwoman which effortlessly (and surprisingly) steals the show. I would never have thought Catwoman could have been so neatly reinvented (with another nod to Miller), or that Hathaway could so easily have ignored the spectre of Michelle Pfeiffer, but she steals every scene she's in (even the untidy early ones with Bane). Less enjoyable is the strange Bane voiceover: is it Hardy or someone else? Either way it's so consistently overly hammy that it removes a degree of menace which the character needs in order to appear a significant threat to Bruce or Gotham. Bane's army taking on the appearance of an Occupy movement works well, although Nolan's apparent desire for his film to appear socially relevant twice in two movies puts Rises under a little unnecessary strain. Still though Gary Oldman's Jim Gordon consistently rises to the challenge, and Joe Gordon Levitt is unexpectedly strong in his street role, paralleling Wayne's journey from a different perspective until they collide. It's a hugely involving film, that despite its density always impresses, and will leave whoever succeeds Nolan with an almost impossible task. Nolan and Bale have made a deservedly legendary trilogy.

Loved this for all the reasons I was disappointed by the Raimi-helmed era of the franchise - Peter Parker's back to being the real hard-luck hero, the dialogue is fresh and realistic, and the tone is less family-friendly, taking a much darker tone. Andrew Garfield also sets his stamp immediately on Peter, providing not just a highly attractive character, but a psychologically interesting one. The lead up to Uncle Ben's murder (an equally perfectly cast Martin Sheen) is more fully developed than even in the book, and when Ben finally dies the scene packs a real punch. Marc Webb may have shortcomings in his storytelling elsewhere in the film, but not here. The film is largely driven though by the romance between Peter and Gwen Stacy (Emma Stone), and again unlike what's gone before it's highly believable and note-perfectly acted. Stone plays Gwen both true to the book, but with far greater authority than Kirsten Dunst as Mary Jane - I'd been sceptical about the change of characters, but director Webb changed my mind. As said, Webb doesn't get everything right - the development of Rhys Ifans' Lizard is questionable (although Ifans isn't that bad), and some of the Peter/Gwen scenes are self-indulgently long, but for me these were small quibbles. The infamous 'power and responsibility' quote is alluded to but never used, and to good effect - the film isn't entirely about Peter's rise to herodom. There's also a greater conspiracy (presumably connected to an unseen Norman Osborn) around Peter's parents, which only gets a look-in here, but which is promised to develop in the next two films. This film never had enough good word or attention at the box office, and it was unquestionably foolhardy to have released it so soon after the Avengers, but it's quite brilliant - Denis Leary's George Stacy through to Sally Field's May Parker (even Chris Zylka's Flash Thompson) all support Peter and Gwen to perfection. It'll make you giggle and cry in equal measure, which is what wisecracking Spidey is *supposed* to do.

I've rarely loved a film as much as I love Joss Whedon's Avengers. It misses out on too much of Hawkeye's backstory, but everything else is simply note perfect. From Mark Ruffalo's Banner/Hulk through to Downey's Stark/Iron Man it's true to the characters of the book, and manages what almost every other blockbuster this summer has failed to do: develop the characters and make them likeable! In many ways it's a difficult film to review, because so much of its likeability is the crackling dialogue and razor sharp performances. The conflict between Stark and Steve Rogers in particular is fascinating, with Whedon not just exploring their contradictory characters individually, but what that would lead to when put under pressure. And who thought Mark Ruffalo would be such a perfect replacement for Edward Norton? He and his CGI (this time sensational) alter ego come close to stealing the show, with witticisms Whedon majestically refuses to signpost. It's a long film, but hardly short on plot, although Whedon could at a push be chided for not explaining enough of the back story of Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner never looking better) or Scarlet Johannson's Black Widow, but a start *is* made, and hopefully they'll be given more room to breathe in the recently confirmed sequel. Fortunately Whedon remembers never to short change his geek or newbie audience alike of the humour such a serious and long film needs, be it the initial Thor/Cap/Iron Man battle, or Cap demonstrating just why he's the leader of men his reputation suggests. It's hugely entertaining from start to finish, the 3D is entirely appropriate and I can't wait for the next one. The Marvel movie you thought could never happen!

The Guard is a small film which manages both to tickle and unnerve at the same time. Gleeson's performance utterly swamps everything before it, but it's to the film's credit that it never quite becomes a big screen Father Ted. There may be philosophy-spouting gangsters, but the threat they pose is real, and the film tries very hard (mostly succeeding) to walk a line between comedy and gangster movie. The characterisation is excellent, notably framed by the buddy movie pairing of Gleeson and Cheadle. Is Gleeson an irrepressible, drinking and whoring buffoon, or just smart yet offbeat? You're never left entirely sure until late on in the film. To the film's credit his Guard may be corrupt as hell in most conceivable ways, but he remains an easy hero, whom Bad Lieutenant style, you root for relentlessly. Cheadle on the other hand is someone I normally don't rate, but his FBI straight man is inspired, and fodder for many of the greatest moments in the film. It won't be to everyone's tastes, but in a film market dominated by identikit scripts and superheroes, it's an oasis of originality that I remain hugely fond of.

Self indulgent beyond all comprehension, but that's Seth MacFarlane. Both Family Guy at its blandest and at its most irreverent, Ted's a must-see despite its serious storytelling shortcomings. Artfully narrated by Patrick Stewart, when it hits the spot it's laugh-until-you-weep funny (and he consistently is), which happens just enough to lift it from its otherwise average TV movie delivery. MacFarlane the director is nowhere near as good as he is a writer, and it shows - Mila Kunis for example is acting in a completely different movie to Mark Wahlberg. But Ted just manages to shock and appal in equal enough measures to make this compulsive viewing.

Jesse Eisenberg as a director manages two really important things here: saying something meaningful about the Jewish diaspora experience, and teasing out an Oscar winning support performance by Kieran Cullen (overdue and deserved). Is it always as fun as billed? No. Is the relationship between the cousins as developed as it could be? Also no, but the slice of life look at their relationship while they’re away touring Europe is pretty accomplished. Eisenberg plays himself as ever, but it doesn’t matter much - this tries to be a small film with naturalistic performances, which happens and it’s so rare these days it’s a delight to be immersed into. And Culkin’s performance genuinely is devastating - he has so much work to do as the anchor for the film and he makes it look effortless and once more delivers an unlikeable character and makes him knowable and likeable.

A film I really wanted to like and the first arc, admittedly largely expositional, made for impressive world building. The tone started very similar to Armando Iannucci’s Avenue 5 - flawed but the social commentary managed to bite. But after the premature copy of Mickey 17 that bite fell away and never really came back. I enjoyed Mark Ruffalo hamming it up as an uncoded Trump analogue but it got a little too close for that satire to work, and the real Trump is much worse. Pattinson is good if not stellar, Colette is utterly wasted, as is Yeun, although Naomi Ackie is impressive. The film for me buckles under directorial self indulgence - it’s fun and has big ideas but Bong Joon-Ho is so heavy handed with them he loses sight of the satire. And the loss of Mickey 18 is predictable. It’s certainly entertaining but taken as a whole it disappoints.

Robert Eggers' Nosferatu remake is visually stunning and admirably old fashioned in its staging and production values but despite staggeringly good casting it never really catches fire. Constrained by the original? By Bram Stoker? It's 15 rating (in the UK)? Either way it feels like every time the film threatens to take off, the pressure on the gas pedal gets lifted and the energy grinds to a halt. Given the cast - notably Nicholas Hoult in the leading role - that's slightly unforgivable, but it's an unexpected shift in style too for Eggers, after his delightful psychodrama The Lighthouse, that took risk after risk, yet here we have a leading man uniquely qualified for vampire movies and he doesn't really make an impact. Hoult tore the screen apart with Renfield - an original and sardonic take on vampire movies (with ties to Stoker's novel), and his experience in Skins, The Great and A Single Man have all shown off an unusually relaxed ability to investigate his characters' sexuality (very much a component of vampire films for many). Yet his Thomas Hutter here is an enigma - the ostensible hero without a personality, pretty but without a character. So little is asked of him it's hard to believe the same director coaxed such a dangerous performance out of Robert Pattinson just five years earlier. For Bill Skarsgard's Orlok to seduce him as well as his screen wife Lily-Rose Depp and leave Hoult barely noticeable is just bizarre. The ending of course is as predictable as the rain, for all its intensity offering no surprises or particular discomfort. That has something to do with Count Orlok playing the most tangential of physical roles in the production. His booming, surely digitally altered voice is occasionally hard to understand, and the decision to humanise his appearance feels downright odd. The production though is phenomenal, from the location shoots to the masterful lighting and the Czech sets - this looks out of this world, a period piece like few others. It just has next to no heart to it. The energy behind Renfield is nowhere to be found, the ghastliness of The Lighthouse is hinted at but never takes off, despite Willem Dafoe's relentless (and welcome) scenery chewing. It's a 2 hour watch that feels longer, it plays it safe when it needs real risks taken, and ultimately has a Hammer House of Horror quality to it - a cult aesthetic but lacking in the substance it deserves.

The performances are stellar but this is a slow, cliche-ridden arthouse film that doesn’t really do justice to either the protagonists or the subject matter. Luca Guadagnino’s fourth consecutive film featuring queer American twink protagonists, the second with screenwriter Jason Kuritzkes is as compelling and uneven as his last two outings. Bones and All and Challengers were visually alluring, tonally seductive and brilliantly acted, but had almost no substance at all. Call Me By Your Name aimed to adapt a queer rites of passage story, which I'd argue it largely succeeded at, but since then Guadagnino's storytelling has felt less assured. Queer's Focus on Craig’s drug addled William Lee (an obvious William S Boroughs analogue) offers potential points of interest - what's behind Lee's disaffection in 1950's Mexico City? How is he so confidently out? What was a gay relationship with an age gap like in that age? What answers we get are retrodden from countless other stories, complicated by a descent into psychedelia and ultimately confusing artsy nonsense, leaving the film with a non-ending. Again. I'm happy with artsy nonsense - David Lynch is a hero of mine, and given this is a Burroughs story I expected confusion and psychedelia, but there are themes Guadagnino and Kuritzkes put into play that they leave largely open which I find annoying. And the epilogue is very annoying. Craig and Starkey are amazing though, even though the younger man has little to do. Their differing ideas about their identities aren't ever given the screen time they deserve, nor is there a resolution which fits comfortably with the drama. A lot has been said about the bravery of their sex scenes, but I'd argue they're no braver than any heterosexual scene, and Craig is predictably allowed to keep his modesty. There's little bravery there. It's a mesmerising film, but neither Craig's nor Starkey's characters go through meaningful change, even after their ayahuasca experience. Maybe the attempt to escape who they are is the point, but it doesn't feel enough to carry a 2+ hour screenplay. Craig (despite his appalling American accent - how is he failing to improve it?) will no doubt win awards for his performance, and Queer is an occasionally very lush cinematic experience (I love the soundtrack) but it's mostly a case of sound and fury signifying very little.

As devastating as it is sensitive, this is a remarkable documentary. So much of Reeve’s personal background, the interviews with Glenn Close, Jeff Daniel’s, his ex and his kids painted an unexpectedly revealing picture of a complicated man. His initial Superman success preceded a period where he felt he had a lot to prove, and was always competing, often with himself. It was his response to his life changing injury that others have remarked ignited his marriage, his parenting and his advocacy. The grief his surviving family still feel is both surprising but a testament to the qualities Chris and Dana lived their lives with. Clark met his Lois and whilst they both met tragic ends they lived genuinely super heroic lives. I was in tears often.

Screwball comedy where it’s not needed, an undercooked romcom and a badly developed historical drama, it’s a film that means well but never really delivers. ScoJo is amazing but it’s not enough to overcome an uneven, overly long script. It needs at least to channel Hidden Figures but as much as I like Greg Berlanti he hasn’t put a production together anything like as smart.

It delivers what you’d expect from a cast this good but it’s a cynical script, tailored by algorithm and committee to deliver very little overall. There’s fun, laughs and action but it’s all been done countless times before, the plot is dull and the fixers’ characters aren’t even really interesting. It’s Jon Watts from Spider-Man: Far From Home - fun, likeable (George and Brad are still the best at what they do) but complacent and not essential viewing.

A strong but strange experience. Almost Shakespearean at times, it’s a powerful morality play and character drama with Oscar worthy performances. It absolutely bites off a little more than it can chew in the tensions it toys with in looking at morality in the Catholic Church, but its ambitions are still laudable. Not for everyone maybe but Fiennes will absolutely get an Oscar nomination nod.

Engaging for about the first half but deeply lacking in plot, no further understanding of the aliens or any background into how humankind understood how to face them. Nyong’o is phenomenal even though her character is deeply undermined from the start, and Quinn delivers his character well enough but Eric isn’t much of a character. The cat steals the show.

Very much a tale of two halves - the first driven by spectacle and enjoyably whimsical performances, making up for problems with the plot. The second half is bloated, and manages to be self-indulgent despite the deeply impressive stunt work by Cruise himself. Ultimately MI:7 Part 1 suffers from the same problem that Westworld S03 never overcame - if a sentient AI is the villain how do you successfully deliver a human ally with believable motivations to ally with it? As awesome as Morales is, his script so far hasn't allowed it - his relevance to Cruise is through retcon alone, which isn't enough. Hayley Atwell however rules, and the film is worth watching for the Rome car chase alone!

I'm a massive Daniel Kaluuya fan and I liked (I think) Get Out. Not so this time, I don't even know what I watched and I do need at least an idea, and not to feel like I've been caught in an ego trip on the scale of Interstellar.

I was a big fan of Gareth Edwards' 'Monsters', but had low expectations of this blockbuster, even populated as it is with some of the most enjoyable A-listers in Hollywood. And I guess it's not a *bad* film, but it's not a great one either - Cranston is dispatched far too early, Olsen is there as window dressing only (criminal given her established chemistry with Taylor-Johnson), and for a film called 'Godzilla' the big guy really isn't the lead character here. That would be Aaron Taylor-Johnson, not for the first time the excellent (and beautiful) actor without a character to sink his teeth into. To his credit he clearly knows this - Ford is little more than the (very pretty) prism through which we experience the ongoing disaster being inflicted by the MUTOs. With a better script Edwards' signature style could have shone through, but CGI wins out (and it is good) consistently over character and any sense of story. Once Cranston's character is killed off it all gets very Pacific Rim, the monsters' motivations somehow ever being knowable, Godzilla's the most improbably of all. That some of its climactic scenes are really fantastic to watch doesn't make the tonal switch any the less annoying. Taylor-Johnson to his credit does seem to understand what film he's in, even though we have to suspend disbelief repeatedly way beyond reasonable and accept heart that's strung together rather than being generated by a half decent script. It's too long, when it debates going full Emmerich it falls apart, but it does have its moments, Godzilla is cool and Taylor-Johnson is mesmerising, even without much to do other than lead us from scene to scene. Onto the next one now, before the AppleTV+ series launching soon!

It’s certainly a good, thoughtful, fun and introspective movie, but where I’ve been noticing vast love for Gerwig’s dramatisation of the Barbie characters (some of which are genuinely hysterical because they really did get made), I only liked it. Maybe I wasn’t the target audience, yet the cast couldn’t have been more ‘me’ if it tried - Robbie, Gosling (who chews up every frame he’s in, let alone scene), Liu, Gatwa, Shipp, Mackey, Nef, Ben-Adir, Cera, Swindells (how did half the cast of Sex Education get in?) and they all redefine ‘arch’. Less so is Will Ferrell, who plays to type, leading an imagined Mattel board that itself is far too fairy tale-ish for a script that sets up comedic (and political) contrasts with the real and imaginary. When the film focuses on the supposed Mattel board it feels like it loses its way somewhat. The opposite is true for America Ferrera, who completely steals the show for me, deeply humanising a character who has to personify most of the points about humanity that the film tries to investigate. That she succeeds is partly down to the at times remarkable dialogue she’s given, but Ferrera proved her ability with material such as this with Ugly Betty a lifetime ago. There may be acting awards coming from this billion dollar earning film (and rising) - if so Ferrera needs to be leading the way.  The design is better than anything I’ve ever seen, the soundtrack is killer, and it may be about 20 minutes too long, but it’s still pacey enough, has Rhea Perlman in it (which instantly makes it a must watch, surely?) and it has something to say. Greta Gerwig has proven every sceptic alive deeply wrong who says female characters don’t sell - female directed, led, scripted - it’s making MCU-level returns before it goes anywhere near iTunes or the streaming platforms. It’s not by any means perfect, it’s still corporate at its core, yet there’s integrity here in spades and it turns out audiences want that more than anything else.

Intensely throwaway but surprisingly likeable, even if it doesn’t actually do all that much.

I guess I’m lucky I didn’t fully read the synopsis of Lukas Dhont’s masterpiece before watching it. Small and yet global, silent yet audible across the universe, it’s a film which leaves you in no doubt that even the most casual homophobia kills. The corrosiveness of the simplest early encounter with being the subject of hate couldn’t have been more deftly presented, nor could it have been better acted - the tragedy of Leo and Remi feels deeply emotionally authentic.

As far as acting goes it’s a tour de force by Blanchett, who’s never been better, which is saying something. The film does too but it’s a bit more compromised than some reviewers suggest.

It’s certainly compelling, and the acting is about as good as it gets, but this is a strange one. I say that as a fan of David Lynch my entire life, and the quirkiness of the resumed pairing of Farrell & Gleeson under writer/director Martin McDonagh’s command starts out similarly weird and uncomfortably amusing. Soon becoming clear the film is set in 1920s Ireland, with civil war visible on the Irish mainland, there’s a pervasive sense of an ancient community on the edge of change - embraced by some, rejected by others, and polar edges of this embodied by Farrell & Gleeson. Their abrupt feud begins almost Father Ted-style absurd, indeed many of the characters start out as little more than stereotypes - good for light comedy but little else. But McDonagh swings an axe through expectations, as change proves to have violent consequences. Barry Keogan’s village idiot Dominic proves to have been abused by his polieman father and kills himself when rejected by Kerry Condon’s Siobhan, herself eager to move on from stagnant Irish island life. Gleeson decides his friendship with prospectless Farrell no longer adds value to his life, and insists it must end, giving no explanation, which leaves Farrell’s Padraic also unable to absorb rejection and essentially starts stalking Gleeson’s Colm, Colm in turn beginning to take drastic steps to stop him, cutting ever more of his own fingers off in spite, destroying his wished for future as a musician. On the surface it’s a bizarre black comedy, but played out with a civil war in the background, the parallels become ever clearer as the stakes of the feud continue to increase. By the end Farrell, unable to understand his former friend, finally triggered by his donkey accidentally choking on one of Colm’s fingers, declares a blood feud on Colm, and acts it out in ways we can only imagine will become more violent after the film finishes.  The move from archetypes to very believable personalities, from kindness to murder, is a deft and deeply saddening demonstration of how effortlessly community can collapse into violent conflict. There aren’t particular heroes or villains here, indeed no one comes off well, mostly because of their fixed ideas about themselves, both those changing and those left behind, and it’s perhaps that insight that makes this such a valuable piece. At the same time what starts out as an absurd, very light comedy, veers at times into unlikeability and coldness - no doubt part of what McDonagh intends, but it does steal valuable entertainment value from the film. That said the performances by the entire cast, and Farrell & Gleeson in particular, are remarkable. Both leads create an air of intense danger from amongst their most understated performances to date - both offering character traits easily identified with, suggesting perhaps that the greatest feeling of discomfort in the film is with your own inherent ability to become either protagonist, that civil war is never necessarily very far from you wherever you are. Fun it isn’t, compelling it is, and it’s definitely interesting. With greater clarity though about what drives Colm (depression is constantly hinted at but never confirmed), the film is diminished at the same time by offering nothing to invest in significantly in either protagonist. How much of this is misunderstanding, to what extent is it more tragedy and cautionary tale than a black comedy with a limited payoff in the conclusion? It never feels like McDonagh’s work ever quite achieves its admirable ambitions.

Chris Hemsworth and Taika Waititi in Thor: Ragnarok were titanic in blending MCU superheroics with a comedic edge, which lifted the Thor franchise out of the duldroms and into somewhat uncharted territory. Love and Thunder pairs them together once more, reunited with Tessa Thompson and rejoined by Natalie Portman, and features the added bonus of Christian Bale as Gorr. And it absolutely doesn’t work as a film, despite some enjoyable comedy and some even more impressive darker turns - Thompson is predictably largely ignored as the MCU’s most prominent LGBTQ+ character, Bale isn’t given the chance he deserves to shine and worse Portman’s third outing as Jane Foster is wasted, almost to the point of being abusively so. Where this film needed to be grounded in the women’s stories, particularly Portman given the Jason Aaron material the script was derived from, it remains a nigh-incel level bro fest, with moronic humour robbing what needed to be an interesting, high stakes story of any depth at all, and a wildly misused Gorr, ultimately out to find his genie to save his daughter, no longer ideologically opposed to Gods. And those Gods in this film are indeed fucking awful, Thor very much a case in point.  Where Jane Foster’s cancer arc and position as Thor narratively deserved to be centre stage, her predicament and the impact on her and Thor are dealt with mostly as an afterthought, and very much through exposition rather than even their final scene together delivering much believable emotion. Instead we get about a third of the film with a bizarre Russell Crowe as Zeus, the Greek panethon only introduced for yuks, and gags that don’t stop. Some amuse but they’re very much there in lieu of the themes of abusive godhood and heroism in the face of mortality with any degree of integrity at all. Bale looks amazing as Gorr, but he spends more time in CGI battles than articulating his very valid message, and the stakes surrounding him (and that he’s driven by) are frustratingly thin. Thor as a character moves nowhere in this film, which after the loss of his people and Infinity War, is a storytelling crime. Ragnarok may have benefited through its lead-in to Thanos’ attack on reality, and forced Waititi to restrain his admitted comedic brilliance to deliver an interesting, funny and balanced film. This outing is just one big ego fest and I didn’t really like it.

There’s no question MoM is an infinitely better film than its predecessor, but it suffers from switching its director and release date mid-production and ends almost like two films with conflicting aims. This sequel to WandaVision (that annoyingly retreads the Disney+ series badly) has periods where it knows what it is and does it very well - the question marks around Strange’s character and ability as (former) Sorcerer Supreme are genuinely interesting, and neatly cloud the arrival of America Chavez with a sense of foreboding. Strange’s decision making led to the Blip - was he wrong or is the revilement he faces an acceptable price to pay for the unthinkable burden he’s carried? What next is entertaining but largely incoherent. Wanda comes for America and the multiverse and neither director Sam Raimi nor writer Michael Waldron (Loki’s showrunner) manage to keep her character consistent with the ending of WandaVision. Her multi-layered journey in the series is discarded, as she becomes a one-note villain in the name of recovering alternates of her kids. If as a result of the corruption of the Darkhold why is Strange disinterested in saving her? His judgment is questioned by Reed Richards but only in a generic, universal way, and it’s not tied to this conflict. An interesting choice would have been to have dived deeply into Strange’s arrogance, but the film only asks whether or not he’s ‘happy’ and bafflingly returns to Rachel McAdams as love interest. Adams may act a lot better this time but alternate Christine is no more interesting a character than the original. Ultimately the consequences of Strange’s questionable decisions (dismissing Wanda, using the Darkhold himself) appear to be pushed into the inevitable third film, which is just cowardly storytelling and it robs the film of an authentic emotional core. Elizabeth Olsen dominates the screen as the villain, but it’s not where she was left after WandaVision and Prime Wanda is  also only ever put through serious character pressure in the final act. Her simplistic motivations, which WandaVision had moved her past, rob her of any character at all (despite the vague insertion of the scene with Xavier attempting to save alternate Wanda), and the potential of investigating the impact of the Darkhold as a corrupting influence on her is discarded. Wasted too is the otherwise excellent Xochitl Gomez, who also doesn’t progress further than displaying entertaining powers, displaying a Pride badge and showing some welcome sass. That was presumably Marvel identifying her as a lesbian - not insignificant but yet more slim positive pickings in a film that, if more thoughtful, could also have introduced an adolescent Wiccan and Speed but ended without any progress towards the Young Avengers at all. The Illuminati sequence is fun but it feels like a reworked scene from What If? It’s great to see Anson Mount and Hayley Atwell returning in tweaked roles and sublime to see Krasinski appearing as Reed Richards, in a role he’s surely going to resume in the upcoming Fantastic Four. Sublime too is Patrick Stewart matching Atwell in playing a Xavier from ostensibly the cartoon X-Men - both dispatched by Wanda but both surely returning alongside Krasinski in the surely upcoming Secret Wars. It’s the introduction to the now severely signalled event that makes this film noteworthy, despite the dribbles of lame dialogue in the second act that don’t move the multiverse that’s in the title forward, and the casual and infuriating change of heart Wanda has in the last act - a script blemish to rival the new cheeriness in life the Borg Queen develops in Star Trek: Picard. Spider-Man: No Way Home also had strategic work for Phase 4 to do, but where that film was anchored by thoughtful character work, knockout performances, perfectly timed nostalgia and whimsy, Doctor Strange 2 often feels misogynistic, constructed by committee and without any heart at all, despite the very welcome yet drawn out introduction of the horror genre by Raimi into the MCU. Maybe 3’s the charm?

This dramatisation of a real life tragedy is an unexpected place for Mark Wahlberg to prove he really can act. His turn as bereaved father Joe requires subtlety I didn't think he had available to him - it's to director Reinaldo Marcus Green's immense credit that he not only draws out knockout performances by all leads, but successfully delivers a snapshot of the before and after effects of anti-gay bullying. Reid Miller is even more devastating as Jadin Bell, a performance even more dependent on subtlety, given that much of what we see of Jadin is imagined by Joe. That it's never quite a redemption movie is a drawback at times (only one of Joe's roadshows is shown), but the messiness of Joe's attempt at making meaning out of tragedy and then his own senseless death are themselves a demonstration of the untidiness of people's stories. The cast deliver deeply authentic emotions where they need to, and make this deeply sad story intense and compelling. You could argue that the 'gotcha' twist half way through wasn't needed, but my God did the Joe and 'Jadin' double act that the film opens with get me invested in them both.

Pig is by no means overly long, but it's occasionally a bit too slow and self-indulgent. It does however make up for both with enormous integrity and a performance by Nic Cage that ranks amongst his career best. Ultimately it's a meditation on grief - you need to be strong to get through this - it's thoughtful, edgy (very on brand for Cage), the cinematography is gorgeous and Alex Wolff's character's arc at times impressively threatens to overshadow Cage's. The reluctant interweaving of both characters' arcs is pretty compelling, as is the respect they gradually develop for one another. The script isn't perfect but the love Michael Sarnoski & Vanessa Block have for their characters is clear, and the light directorial touch is welcome for a film whose opening premise is so offbeat.

It’s not bad. Then again it never tries hard enough to be anything that would allow it to be bad. The Batman is no doubt exciting, is fun in its daring and it’s a visually stunning epic, yet with an almost three hour running time it manages to say almost nothing about this Bruce Wayne. There’s detective work but no charm, warmth or wit, and Rbats’ emo Bruce is not just a long way from the World’s Greatest Detective, but he’s not that interesting either. The well cast Zoe Kravitz and Jeffrey Wright do the heavy lifting on acting chores that Rbats is bafflingly not asked to, but even there the opportunities with Selina and Gordon are largely dodged in favour of violence and spectacle. It’s a compelling watch - very Blade Runner in tone, but using Bruce’s journal for exposition happens far too often and what little character work there is (Serkis’ Alfred) is cringeworthy.  The Riddler mystery is a good one, and when Dano is allowed to cut loose he’s a compelling change from the customary rogues gallery, but even then the primary plot gets muddled with unnecessary origin and the excesses of the final act feel out of keeping with the core noir murder mystery. It’s fun but bloated and doesn’t offer a take on Bruce or Batman which hasn’t already been explored (better) on screen.

Resurrections doesn’t just have a lot of the cast in common with Sense 8 - it has a lot of concepts and subplots that have great ideas behind them but few are ever given the space to land. So for all of the fun of the enjoyably relaxed meta commentary in the first act, there’s almost no payoff for the Neo/Trinity reunion despite Reeves & Moss’ best efforts. It tries to be two films but Lana Wachowski has such a vague grasp of her narrative (and much less of a budget) it ends up accomplishing very little other than offering a nostalgic look at beloved characters who aren’t given room to breathe. The reunion is technically enjoyable but serves no dramatic purpose, and Weaving and Fishburne’s absences are problematic. The new faces have their own problems - the lovely NPH and gorgeous Groff, both are intensely watchable but NPH plays dastardly in a franchise that’s more akin to The Terminator, and Groff’s reimagined Smith makes almost no sense, as compelling as he is on screen. What does work is the early implicit anti-capitalist commentary - the machines have resurrected and reabsorbed Neo and Trinity, who begin with no awareness of their previous adventures. Reeves as a games designer of those stories is actually cute, and the chemistry he and Moss immediately demonstrate is enjoyable - as a reboot it starts out fun and clever. If the purpose of their resurrection is to snark at us about how similar that is to capitalism, and how most people don’t care it’s a valid point but deserved much more insight than the slow first act allowed. The Winter Soldier managed that. The return to the old continuity on the other hand is deeply clumsy from the first appearance of ‘Morpheus’ and mostly falls flat, with disappointing CGI and no compelling narrative purpose. The adventures and exchanges that follow are occasionally very likeable indeed but Wachowski squanders any goodwill with a ferocious 2 ½ hour running time, extended by expositional bursts, with mystifying mad zombie chases throughout the final act that do nothing to move the plot forwards. There’s essentially no character development for Reeves or Moss, whose final act real world reunion turns out not to be a sufficient payoff for the bloated running time. Both are actually resurrected yet neither is shown to be affected by such a dramatic change, and not a single remaining human seems bothered that countless of their number are still enslaved. Matrix 4 certainly does do Matrix feels but with a lazy script never settles on what it wants to be and does both reboot and sequel half heartedly, never really justifying its existence.

Given how much it felt like Far From Home traded on past glories instead of doing anything meaningful with the title characters, my expectations of this were low. The multiverse sure, and the famous cameo and guest stars, but none of that ensured this Peter Parker would be more interesting or sympathetic than in his previous few outings. I was wrong. This has heart, intelligence, wit and morphs unexpectedly from the predictable MCU quip fest into something darker yet sensitive, finally picking up prime Spider-Man themes and utterly doing them justice. The Peter at the end is vastly removed from the irritant at the outset and this initial trilogy ends on a note so strong it puts Cap and Iron Man to shame. Holland is of course aided by his two predecessors in the role, who are a delight throughout the final act, which is no small achievement. A live action Spider-Verse could have overwhelmed Holland’s Peter once more, but there’s so much heart that never comes close. Kudos too to Defoe and Molina in particular, who anchor the drama unexpectedly well, nodding to the past whilst offering something new, and the new Goblin costume made me squeal.  Zendaya too delivers deep emotion where it matters most, finally asked to act she’s devastating with Holland, as of course is Tomei. With great power comes great responsibility: it came at last, everyone lived up to it and it was worth the wait.

Old school is welcome, old school is good, but The Good Liar telegraphs its intentions from the outset. The performances are marvellous, which you’d expect, but they can’t lift the deeply obvious script to make this a must see film for the story. Of course Mirren was going to double cross the con man, it was just a question of why - that denouement is the most enjoyable part of the film, but you have to wait through nearly two hours to get there. Condon’s direction, so masterful in Gods and Monsters, is pace free and so unnecessarily earnest, that it kept reminding me of Ken Branagh’s equally inoffensive but pedestrian Murder on the Orient Express. Of course McKellen, Mirren and Tovey chew through every scene they’re in, but they deserved a better showcase for a clash of such acting talents.

Finch doesn't tread new ground exactly, but where it does tread it does so with enormous heart, is held together by the man best qualified to do so, and offers gentle questions along the way as well, about what it is to be human, and to a lesser extent an American if there's no America left. Where similar stories go all Frankenstein's Monster or descend into scifi bleakness (Clooney I'm looking at you), the creation of 'Jeff' (Caleb Landry Jones) is rooted in improbable optimism, perhaps from an America that never was, but which offers hope in the face of devastation, a wry happiness in the face of oblivion. Finch sets out to teach Jeff only to protect his dog Goodyear when he inevitably dies of radiation poisoning, but along the way he realises his obligation is greater than the passing on of knowledge. Of course Hanks delivers the emotion that's called for, and Jones somehow delivers a performance without a body - and the robotic effects are absolutely stunning. It's not perfect - the third act wobbles a bit before the inevitable dark landing, with only the one unseen antagonist who eventually just goes away, but even though the road trip/teaching a robot to be human tropes are ancient, it does feel as though director Sapochnik manages to draw out a freshness without being saccharine or preachy. It's a nice film, with likeable protagonists and a positivity that transcends the final act's long-signalled sadness. That Goodyear the dog almost out-acts Hanks is quite the achievement, and it's a refreshing change to watch an Apple film release that doesn't feel like it was written by committee. Writers Luck and Powell admittedly don't try to reinvent the wheel, but it's not always necessary and Finch is a charming reminder of that.

I don’t get it. All of that near mystical approach…poetic even, for that? Just for a father/son tussle in Neptune’s orbit? And all just to make Brad’s character more engaged with others? Why was this made? I mean it looks good, I like the future solar system designs and ideas but it takes ages to go nowhere. It’s pretty insulting to quite a stellar cast and isn’t even fun.

Daniel Craig manages to end his run with a film that’s better than Spectre but despite sequences threatening excellence and co-stars delivering energy absent from the lead performance, as a body of work it never manages to elevate itself into something noteworthy. There's no doubt it's entertaining, but its blatant plagiarism of Avengers: Endgame is a shameless attempt at yet again defining the Craig run (which aped Bourne early on) in the terms of other franchises’ successes. Despite offering a risk-taking take on Mallory (whose immorality never comes with a price), Lashana Lynch as 007 (never given enough screen time), Ana de Armas stealing every scene she’s in with a truly joyful performance, and Ben Whishaw’s Q having an offscreen boyfriend and the big shock of Jeffrey Wright’s Leiter’s murder, this fails to cohere into something distinctly Bond or even coherent enough to tie off this 15 year-long arc successfully. The bioweapon is a tired device and its introduction is needlessly cartoonish, Rami Malik’s Safin doesn’t stand out as the towering villain promised, his plan is convoluted and motivations even more annoying than Silva’s in Skyfall or Blofeld’s in Spectre. Blofeld is of course here, one of numerous deus ex machinae and Easter eggs in a film that very much hints that not just Craig’s era is done but that the franchise itself has closed. But these additions don't add anything to the story, the script already desperate to please everyone and everything takes forever to get to the point. I'm all for adding to the screen time for character work to actually hit, but the transformation of Bond into the family man that OHMSS denied him comes at such a later stage it's unconvincing. One minute Cary Joji Fukanaga's film tries to be the Spectre follow up so deserved after the deeply flawed previous 007 outing, (which it often succeeds at), but it then adds epic ambitions, which seem to serve Craig more than character. Bond's demise doesn't have zero impact, but the changes rapidly overcoming the character feel contrived and his acceptance of his imminent death feels a bit lost in Safin's completely unintelligible plot. There's schmaltz instead of heart, if Waller-Bridge script doctored to **add** humour, I can't imagine how dour the original screenplay was, and the script's amble through themes of love, loss and legacy is just clumsy. I’d question their necessity here, at least presented as pompously as Fukanaga does. That said Craig is clearly happier than he was in Spectre, the widescreen cinematography is occasionally superb, the action in Italy is deeply impressive and the potential in Loshana Lynch’s 007 is unlimited. It’s such a shame she relinquishes the moniker back to Bond, no doubt to add to the heart strings pull of the final act, and I can only hope Nomi gets her own show but I bet she doesn’t. Naomie Harris, Loshana Lynch and now Ana de Armas - all introduced with the clear ability to guide this tired franchise somewhere new, but discarded into bit players once again for the straight white male saviour again to save the day - this time with added Jesus complex. It’s a film that absorbs (with that running time there’s no choice) and Cary Joji Fukanaga allows time for character development but it never consistently hits. Bond comes to terms with Vesper's loss at last in the opening act, but his death in a trajectory of his losses is downplayed, and Craig isn't really given the opportunity to explore it. His love is dead, his best friend and mentor - there's no shame at this point in him joining them, but the agent facing his Wrath of Khan moment has just spent what felt like half an hour shooting people on a stairwell, in the name of selling the inevitable computer game. The evocation of OHMSS is in itself worthy, but the film **as a whole** comes across as pompous, half-baked and doesn’t tie his iteration of 007 off any more fairly than the overall worse script in Spectre. As much as I can see how Bond couldn't have had a happy ending (if one was truly needed), lifting the plot from another movie surely wasn't the way to go about it. Daughter? Five year gap? It's so obvious it's painful, and Safin fails to land adequately as a villain, both in performance and role in the plot. Purvis & Wade's run has been distinguished by truly awful villains, indeed this one's backstory is told only in exposition, and his the relevance of his connection to the still dull Seyroux is never adequately explained. Yes it's better overall than Spectre, but the emotional punches I'd argue aren't even needed, fail to land with the resonance they needed, the film tries to be all things to all people and as a result ties off Craig's era unconvincingly.

It’s good of course, amiable and pensive, and no one else could play the iconic role of Mr Rogers other than the similarly beloved Hanks. I was relieved that it doesn’t make any attempt at grim & gritty, it doesn’t attempt to undermine Rogers' legacy or overstay its own welcome, and a fair number of scenes are close enough adaptations of actual noteworthy events the great man was involved in to give the script a grounding of authenticity. A good thing too, given the flawless casting of Hanks - a man similarly beloved, and without question the only actor who could possibly have played such an important role.  Where it feels the film comes unglued is in the adaptation of Tom Junod's Esquire 1998 profile of Fred Rogers - the clash of cynical journo vs world's nicest man may have been a good unique selling point in getting the film made, but with Junod's life and family almost entirely fictionalised there's next to no reason to invest in that plank of the script. I also found Matthew Rhys' performance devastatingly flat, and his character's emotional difficulties come across more as a deus ex machina than anything else to explain the necessity of a Fred Rogers. In doing so, and in indulging in far too many unnecessary dream sequences, Hanks' impressive turn is unexpectedly undermined. I have no particular issue with the film's occasional overindulgence in sweetness, but it does clearly do that to avoid risk. There's consensus that Fred Rogers was exactly what he appeared to be, but his legacy surely does deserve a little more understanding of the conditions that made him what he was; his imperfections are only barely touched on, bafflingly in favour of saccharine exchanges with a family he never even met. Junod's article offers interesting insights - Micah Fitzerman-Blue and Noah Harpster's script does not. Film adaptations of modern history are always tough, the balance between documentary and fiction very difficult to attain comfortably, but there was an interesting angle to be had on who this man was, and why he had such a profound impact on the American psyche. With a gently referenced experience of anger, why this (also unreferenced) religious man should find answers to it that benefited an entire country, when answers are failing to emerge for that country now, could have been a fascinating lens through which to have viewed such an interesting man. Indeed whether there could even be a Mr Rogers now is a question that deserves investigation. By focusing slowly and far too long on characters that for the most part didn't even exist, Marielle Heller's film ends up enjoyable, nice, but largely (despite some really strong efforts by Hanks) a missed opportunity.

Some great performances but a totally by the numbers script and flat direction strip the potential from an otherwise interesting premise.

A hideously underdeveloped script with a second and third act totally put together by committee, this isn’t the film Scarlett or Natasha was owed. Neither quite the Bond film it jokes about at the start, nor the sinister origin tie in that was promised, it still manages to be disarmingly fun, in large measure because of the rock solid anchoring performances by Johansson and Pugh. Together they’re electric, and in the action riddled first act, this film soars. When it goes overblown however and the narrative is lost it’s a pain, and the Red Room subplot, with Winstone even more unwatchable than in Indiana Jones 4, is delivered especially badly. There’s so much potential, but so much is wasted - the Waid/Samnee run is clearly drawn on, but the style, attitude and threat are all lost in a script heavy on exposition and increasingly flat direction. The buildups in both MCU and here only lead to a lesser and poorly envisioned threat than Redford’s Hydra in Winter Soldier, the similarities almost plagiarising the earlier film, which at least made attempts to allow suspension of disbelief. I’d love to see the director’s cut because there’s no way this is it. Despite the best efforts of a very likeable cast this film doesn’t have the impact it needs. It should have appeared 6-7 years ago, its impact is nullified by Natasha being dead in current continuity and worse Johansson’s falling out with Disney. As good as she is, after Act 1 the rapid tonal (and odd location) shifts undermine the strength of her performance, the theme of her wanting to clear her ledger and the potential of Yelena acting positively as her legacy. Johansson is asked to do too much work in her performance alone to come to terms with her past (the Taskmaster subplot is awful), and as fun as her interaction with Val is in the post credits sequence, Pugh’s potential only partly takes off, although it’ll be interesting to see how she’s used in Hawkeye S01 next month. David Harbour and especially Rachel Weisz contribute to the likability of the mess, but even they can’t raise this to essential viewing.

Rambling across 2 ½ hours with nowhere near enough plot and appallingly unfocused direction this needed Momoa to do all the heavy lifting. He does provide it but even he can’t turn this epic wannabe into essential viewing. It’s fun, but most characters are one note and as well as Black Manta is cast, he’s one too many plot strands to stop you getting properly invested. It’s a batshit crazy film with more fighting and CGI than character moments, no shortage of ideas but no filter through which to distil them.

I’m absolutely relaxed about weirdness for its own sake, and it feels like Nolan makes a welcome return here  to his Memento roots, playing with time and structure in ways that seem knowable only to him. Last time he did this so overtly was with Interstellar and I hated it, but this I liked, even though I never felt terribly invested in it. The temporal Cold War is a cute idea and playing it as a Bond film is occasionally delightful - Big Baddie Out To Kill Us All (Branagh), Suave Secret Agent (Washington), Gratuitous Female Love Interest (Debicki), Pal From Across The Pond (Pattinson), even an M analogue (Donovan). Michael Caine is even given a few scenes to chew up, which don’t affect the story but do lighten the tone. It’s marred by terrible sound (evoking Dark Knight Rises), some appalling dialogue and ultimately never giving us much of a hook to care about any of the main protagonists, even Branagh’s nihilistic Russian is never really interesting, for the most part only really offering the viewer garbled exposition about the ideas Nolan is playing with. Debicki is cruelly badly used, her character wasted and one note, playing more of a noirish gangster’s moll than a leading role worthy of her, and as electrifying as Washington (destined for even greater things) and Pattinson are, their mysterious relationship, only revealed near the end, isn’t difficult to guess. It’s to their credit that the fun they’re having flies off the screen - as action heroes they’re deeply impressive.  It’s long but a lot of fun, the effects are very cool, and I suppose as you’d expect with Nolan it deserves much more and much less thought at the same time. Ultimately it feels like the Second (or inverted?) Act in a much bigger story which we only ever learn about in exposition. It’s a shame in a way, although grand time travel epics rarely work, what remains unseen helps to reinforce the noir tone, and Washington does very well to keep you focused on him and not too much on the script’s flaws. The real world issues, thrown in almost as an afterthought, disrupt the more uneven Third Act, which also criminally underuses the always excellent Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Non Nolan fans may find Tenet infuriating, although the jaunty First Act shows just how urgent it is that the writer-director is given an opportunity to direct a 007 adventure somehow.

It’s painfully too long and lacks an overall sense of urgency but what it gets right more than makes up for that. Emma Stone as Cruella is mesmerising and her pairing against Emma Thompson is inspired - the level of vamping is occasionally off the charts and it’s fun, even though some of the CGI is ropey, the London geography deeply questionable and I was often left wishing they’d just get to the point. Someone thought 140 minutes were needed to anchor a franchise without an obvious need and the two leads prove them enjoyably wrong - their scenes trying to out arch one another alone would have been worth the price of admission. That said it’s a perfect rainy Sunday afternoon film and there are Dalmatians in it!

Clint Eastwood’s take on the Miracle on the Hudson story doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel but it’s still pretty well done. Only Hanks could have played Sully and he’s mesmerising from start to finish. If there’s any real gripe it’s the staged conflict with the NTSB, but as with all modern historical dramas it’s worth remembering this isn’t a documentary - instead it’s a life affirming story of humanity at its best.

Its amorphousness may put some off, but make no mistake this film is genius, often poetic, often quasi-documentary and held together with a remarkable performance by Frances McDormand. For a film about nomads to offer so much hope and using so little dialogue to do it is a major achievement and Chloé Zhao absolutely deserves her Oscars. Her masterpiece says a lot about America, about the human condition but above all about authenticity and never for a moment sacrifices its own to do so. Swankie broke my heart. David Strathairn accompanied by his real world family was touching, and even though I was never entirely sure what I was watching, I couldn’t take my eyes off McDormand until the very end.

Anna Kerrigan’s Cowboys is intensely likeable in its thoughtfulness, its ambition and fearlessness, in its story of a 10 year old trans boy in rural Montana. Sasha Knight is remarkable as Joe, caught up in his parents’ dysfunctional relationship, his father bipolar (Steve Zahn, never better) and his mother unable to accept his gender identity. What results following the boys’ flight is a coming of age tale on a number of levels, and what shortage there is sometimes in believability, is more than made up for in emotional authenticity. You never stop rooting for Joe and indeed Troy - if there’s any real criticism it’s Jillian Bell’s Sally, a dominating performance, but her own journey is perhaps a little under scripted. Her ultimate acceptance of her son for who he is is in many ways more powerful than her estranged husband’s, and I’d have loved more screen time to have been given to her reevaluation of herself, her husband and her child. That said the downplaying of conflict (apart from two key plot moments) signifies this clearly as a family film, and its contemplative nature is its greatest asset. It’s small, has heart to spare, and benefits from a understated performance by the phenomenal Ann Dowd, who offers possibly more positivity than her real world counterparts might, but her easy likability is off the scale. It’s a story about understanding and acceptance in an age of polarity and pointless division - Joe’s real world experience would likely involve hatred; that doesn’t make an appearance here but it in no way invalidates this intensely welcome story.

A sweet if occasionally over earnest gay look at strangers meeting and connecting for just one day, with what feels like a very Richard Linklater vibe. Tonally it’s lovely and Matthew Morrison and Alexis Koutsoulis have an undoubted chemistry - the progression of their relationship is nicely organic and writer (with Hannah Renton)/director Daniel Sanchez López brings out almost improvised performances, which may account for the sometimes overly knowing dialogue. The questions their time together poses are interesting, especially for a gay community at odds about relationship openness and it’s a little disappointing that more isn’t made of the grey area both boys find themselves in in the last act.  Who are we as gay men if sex isn’t the priority? What do our relationships looks like, what can they be like? Where does love fit in? Sanchez López gives connection and love a deeply convincing investigation, and it feels like locating the film in Berlin gives it added urgency. There are few stakes either Harry or Johannes face until the last act, and it’s to the cast and crew’s credit that they dodge obvious sentimental traps. As thoughtful a film as this deserves a larger audience than it’ll receive (Covid notwithstanding).

The content is great, the acting, the silence, the sex, but it doesn’t really amount to much. As a meditation on connection it has little to say - it’s not really uncomfortable nor altogether titillating and strays a little too far into artsy. As a meditation on gay men and the continuing need for anonymous sex in the age of Grindr I’d have loved it to have stretched itself a little.

Films about self-discovery invariably end up sentimental or head towards dead familiar tropes, but whilst writer/director Phil Connell sets an age-gap schmaltz fest up, what he follows through with is altogether more intriguing and deceptively rewarding. Thomas Duplessie bursts onto the screen in an intensely watchable role, with good looks which he uses to his advantage and an emotional range entirely suited for being paired with Oscar winner Cloris Leachman (in her final role). Many of their early scenes have predictable conflicts - him out to use his grandmother, her mental and physical decline posing challenges for him he'd rather not face. Leachman is devastating, snarky one minute, confused the next, but Margaret's experience of growing dementia is anything but stereotypical. She knows Russell is stealing from her and doesn't care. They both race towards an all too believable mix of self-discovery and self-annihilation. The loss of Leachman in January gives this film much more urgency, but she, the really rather marvellous Duplessie and Connell give it unending heart. The cinematography is like the characters - a mixture of warmth and heart, Duplessie's set drag pieces are worth the price of admission alone; fuck you to being your own whipping boy indeed, but some of the supporting cast could have been fleshed out more. Russell's unsettled fling with bartender Zachary (Kawaku Adu-Poku) feels like it could have been more, but Russell's discomfort in relationships with others resonates. The narrative loses its way a bit too with Margaret once Russell leaves, but the dark edge underlining the abrupt finale is welcome - leaving us to wonder if Margaret chooses to make her own self-discovery her ending is both daringly bleak and a posthumous nod to a remarkable actor and ally to the LGBT community.

Dear God this is terrible, just awful. A gay love story set amidst the Russian armed forces during the Cold War, this should have been full of clandestine hookups, oppressive scenes and a context laden with KGB oppression but it’s only ever hinted at through intercepted letters and a particularly nasty major. Tom Prior’s Sergey and Oleg Zagorodnii’s Roman never seem especially troubled, and the former (also co-writer) delivers a statuesque performance (matched by far too much of the cast), and is never really believable despite the earnestness. The doomed lovers are likeable but only superficially engaging and the thin script pays far too little attention to Diana Pozharskaya’s Luisa, leaving the film oddly imbalanced and far too long. I loved the location shoot, and it’s a great story but without confident direction it’s a massive missed opportunity for a true story with so much cinematic potential.

A devastating part-documentary about the no future generation of young people in Medellin, Colombia. It’s framed unsettlingly by the story of queer 21 year old student Camilo Najar’s overdose and offers no answers, just reflects back the nihilism killing Medellin’s young people. The relentless violence has stopped yet its effects linger for the city’s most vulnerable.

An unsentimental yet heartwarming look at connection, how it can be found in the unlikeliest of circumstances and times, and how an openness to it can be rewarding, even in gay hookups. The naturalistic performances by Luis Carazo and Philemon Chambers are magnetic and offer a brief but powerful emotional example for a gay community often preoccupied only with sex. That writer/director Ruben Navarro managed to draw me in to Angel and Marcus’ emotional worlds so fully and so quickly is an achievement.

A brief but sweet tale of a college jock’s growing feelings for his parents’ non-binary pool cleaner, Star. The jock friend is a little two dimensional but both leads, especially the fabulous River Gallo, shine. A worthwhile meditation on how we rarely are who we think we are, or who others want us to be.

The script is a little thinner than I’d have liked but this is still a powerfully quiet tale of gay love and joy persisting even (especially?) in the face of an undefined environmental apocalypse. The unnamed boys speak some deeper truths about life and living and even though it feels like it was made on a shoestring Leakis and Tabakakis’ acting delivers writer/director Tsimpinis’ message with understated power.

It’s slightly over earnest and predictable but where it strays into stereotype it makes up for in integrity. Matthews & Jimmy’s love story may feel improbable from a 2021 perspective but the culture of fear in sixties Britain is made very clear, and with the addition of the Wolfenden Report discussed in a parliamentary voiceover over most scenes, the timeless need for gay men to be allowed to find belonging free from oppression is delivered strongly. Barnett and Lennon deliver their characters’ struggles just to feel freely very convincingly, and while the ending may feel illogical in the context of the film, the importance of gay men legally experiencing genuine intimacy rings as vitally now, with the level of anti-trans hatred so prevalent. I’m not ignoring Cyril Nri, whose flamboyant Edna May gets disappointingly little screen time and hints at struggles far more severe and an honourable bravery too often dismissed by the too regularly racist gay community. His role in the final act is powerful in its limited dialogue and relies on Nyi to deliver his character’s truth through his performance, which he succeeds at. I am left thinking though that his story would have been far more interesting and enlightening than the other two’s.

It takes a little too long to kick off, but when it does this is great, thoughtful and full of heart. The animation at times is sublime and Anthony Gonzalez can sing!

The traditional action movie persists thank goodness, but only because the Cruisester is now prepared to go to any lengths at all to show his competitors up. Ethan Hunt will do what it takes and so does Tom, breaking his ankle, doing a real halo jump and flying his own helicopter - the spectacle he gives us, as the world is saved from nuclear destabilisation, is remarkable. The script agreeably doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel, has well delivered humour and McQuarrie delivers a film that just doesn’t stop. Romps like this don’t happen much outside of the MCU anymore and their success at these must really demoralise Eon Productions. If there’s a complaint it’s that every new instalment, for all their accomplishments, never really tries to do anything different. On the one hand Cruise is hamstrung by Marvel determining the action movie taste for this era (also fun, also for a fixed demographic), on the other there’s clearly a market for him continuing leading man schtick thirty years on. That’s amazing, the stakes are cool but neither the property is being stretched nor the genre  (and with all his ability nor is he right now). I liked watching it on TV but the likelihood I pay full cinema price for MI8 is slim.

There’s no real excuse for such blandness. It’s cute and well cast but I don't know what purpose this dreck serves. It can’t be an accident, given the inexplicable use of Chris McKenna on script yet again (his Spider-Man: Far From Home was similarly risk averse and corporate). It plays like an 80s TV movie, and not in a good way. You know you’re in trouble when vast amounts of screen time are taken up with car chases through San Francisco, all conveniently showing landmarks which will have been terms of the filming deal with the city.  I love Paul Rudd but he’s capable of much more than this - only Michelle Pfeiffer really shines (and that’s not for long). Cassie Lang’s future as a Young Avenger is nicely telegraphed but this sequel is too long, the charm is forced and the formula sucks.

The story of Uncle Frank is as old as time. Family vs found family works on a big screen if you have a solid script and the integrity in Alan Ball’s work is clear from the outset. Paul Bettany’s Frank and Peter Macdissi’s Wally are deeply engaging and believable as a gay couple in 1973, whose semi-open New York lives are disrupted by Sophia Lillis’s Beth (Frank’s 18 year old niece from the same town in the deep south), who seeks her uncle out after starting at the same university he teaches in. It could be very cliché but her discovery of the real Frank has charm and the film is quickly shaped by Peter Macdissi’s nuanced and intensely likeable performance. All three head southwards when Peter’s Dad dies, which forces him to confront his past and come to terms with his present. The sensitivity needed in performances, script and direction is delivered confidently. This film is warm, smart and very hard to fault and the boys playing off Lillis’ character, as eager to find an individual identity and future as them, together offer a conclusion of hope that’s delightfully free of schmaltz. From Frank’s exchange with student Bruce in the first act to Beth reminding her elders what they already know about found family, the script never loses focus and is never short of cute, smart moments. Alan Ball’s direction is about as faultless (apart perhaps occasionally from pacing issues) as his script, and the balance of love and trauma is delivered with disarming humanity by the quite stunning pairing of Bettany and Macdissi.

I’m a big fan of Charlie Brooker so apart from the appalling in-house Netflix promotion I really liked this. Don’t get me wrong I’d rather have had a Newswipe to see off 2020 but with Sam Jackson in the lead this is still great, if a little obvious in its primary focus.

A monstrous missed opportunity - bland, without insight, the sci-fi drama doesn’t move the plot on whatsoever, some of the performances are terrible, and any suspicion you might have about twists is completely true. Clooney is gifted in front of and behind the camera, which makes this film utterly baffling - the script is bloated, he gives you no reason to become invested in a single character, and the opportunities for something to say are legion. The end of the world and...nothing.

An impressively theatrical adaptation of the August Wilson play, and it’s deceptively powerful. To have it feel undirected takes remarkable talent, but it’s the performances by Viola Davis and Chadwick Boseman that make this unmissable. A film of rare integrity and proof that Boseman was going to be the greatest actor alive when we lost him. Oscars are coming.

I remain madly in love with Lost in Translation so it’s a real shock not to have enjoyed this much at all. Sofia Coppola’s latest feels written to order for Apple TV+ with the strict instructions to be as bland and obvious as possible. It’s a shame, given how good Murray and Rashida Jones are (Marlon Wayans is a very strange casting choice), but where LoT was all about existential confusion at the end of the century, this is...nothing. The ‘is he/isn’t he cheating’ schtick is so overdone and neither Coppola nor Murray add anything of value here. Their scenes together have energy because even at his worst Bill Murray is mesmerising, but the conclusion is easily guessable, the tensions are thin and direction phoned in.

The true story, the cast, the non flashy direction, there’s nothing I don’t love about Dark Waters. Ruffalo really shines as lawyer Rob Bilott, and his battle with the DuPont Corporation really resonates after similar environmental disasters in the US since, notably in Flint, Michigan. The story of one man standing up against corporate America’s worse abuses is one that everyone needs to see, now more than ever.

A fun 80s style revenge actioner, low on plot, very very high on killing, and I enjoyed it. No one is particularly outstanding, although Reeves does this type of film very well and seeing Michael Nyquist is a joy. It’s definitely the sort of film you have to be in the mood for and today it really hit the spot. There’s little to discuss apart from that!

Not bad mindless fun but it loses its way in the final act.

I’m not a fan of war movies but this is amazing. George MacKay finally realises his potential in a deeply affecting, very theatrical WW1 story, apparently adapted from Sam Mendes’ grandfather’s experiences. Incredible performances (including one of Mark Strong’s best) and breathtaking cinematography, with a massively pared down script make this unexpectedly compelling. Held together by MacKay and Dean-Charles Chapman, and frequently told in massively long single takes, it’s a meditation on war with rare integrity. I’ve never seen anything like it.

A lot of fun and I adored the soundtrack by the songwriters of La La Land. As deeply impressive as Jackman and Efron are, it’s Keala Settle who steals the show for me (I’m very disappointed it wasn’t Rebecca Ferguson who sang ‘her’ songs). The direction is surprisingly strong, only really dipping a little in the third act which feels a little too tidy and overly polished. I loved the unashamed feel good nature of the film, I was just a tad disappointed that what felt the stronger narrative of the first half gave way for a slicker and less focused second half (despite the fantastic ending).

It takes off in typical Sorkin style after a slow start and after that I’ve got little to say against it. The razor sharp dialogue, the intercutting of news footage, the incredible performances (even Eddie Redmayne, who I was unsure of to start with), Sorkin never lets up - it gets increasingly gripping and completely rewarding. I imagine the usual suspects will hate it as the cautionary tale it is for the Trump era, but I was surprised at how much Sorkin soft pedalled the comparisons.

It’s not quite what I was expecting from Armando Iannucci, but in hindsight I’m not sure what I’d imagined. It’s sweet, positive and beautifully made - the cast is impossibly good. Patel, Laurie and Capaldi are remarkable, but I guess it’s the story itself that just doesn’t grab me. Despite everyone’s best intentions it felt a bit dull and bland at times. It’s a tremendously likeable film but slightly too long and won’t necessarily be to everyone’s taste. It made for a nice if not too engaging afternoon's watch though.

I can’t understand why Branagh would make a film so bland and obvious. Nothing changed from the basic plot, so many unnecessary extravagances, and a stunning cast wasted. It’s woefully overproduced, Branagh casting himself as Poirot was a mistake, and for a murder mystery there’s just no tension to speak of. It’s not even very fun.

A beautiful, theatrical meditation on grief, and the intersectional way that it collides against Kai's mother and the boyfriend he left behind. Pei-Pei Cheng and Ben Whishaw are outstanding as Andrew Yeung’s next-of-kin, bringing enormous heart and sensitivity to both their roles and an understanding of the elephantine cross cultural issues left in the room. I was expecting the truth about Richard and Kai’s relationship to be articulated and I think I’m glad it wasn’t, but at the same time the script felt like something was missing, like the film kept edging towards its true potential but never quite hit it. It’s an LGBT story I’m very glad to see told on a big screen though and is really to be treasured in its own right.

About as inconsistent as a film can get. The fantastic cast is entirely wasted on the most generic script I’ve seen in years and lifeless direction. Tom Hardy is easy on the eye of course but he doesn’t play to his strengths and the potential in the Venom mythos is quite thoroughly abused. Nothing even happens for the first half hour and there’s a car chase that feels like it takes up a whole act. I’m sure San Francisco loved being shown off but neither humans nor symbiote get decent set up or characterisation time. It’s bland, not well made, but passes the time if you have literally nothing else to do.

Greg Rucka translates his own book to screenplay and man it’s a mess. With a tighter script and any effort at all in direction it could have at least been fun. It doesn’t even try to be Tomb Raider - all this great casting alongside a great idea and it’s just bland and unengaging. The villain is laughable, his performance belongs in a different film, and there’s nothing here to really get invested in. There are enjoyable moments, and there are signs that Charlize and Kiki understood what was needed - I’d say anyone else producing other than Netflix may have delivered the chemistry the film ultimately depended on.

This Hanks-written effort, belatedly moved over to Apple TV+ is certainly nice. There’s nothing offensive about it, Hanks acts his socks off, and it’s certainly intense. But there’s nothing to it, there’s no story, we don’t know who any of the characters are. Without Hanks in the lead role it would have been unwatchable - his screen presence is almost all the film has. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for more of a look at the history of the WWII Atlantic convoys but this adds very little. Its theatricality is an asset, but overall it’s a massively overhyped missed opportunity.

It’s nice enough, there’s a warmth that comes from acting quite this good, but without Deneuve and Binoche (Hawke is mystifyingly there as window dressing) in the leading roles this would be a ‘miss’. There’s a certain amount of very meta commentary about Fabienne/Deneuve, but it’s pretty obvious, in fact the whole thing is screamingly obvious and unchallenging, nice as it is. If the point was the difference between reality and how a celebrity self promotes, a light comedy of manners like this could have been much more incisive and witty. As it is, Manon Clavel verges on stealing the show from the two leading greats.

Any director with the courage to let his actors just get on with telling an intensely important yet dry story, without any dramatic intensity, is worth paying attention to. The lack of sensationalism in the story of the torture report is what makes this work quite so well - modern history is notoriously difficult to commit well to film, and Burns is to be commended for not turning this into Vice II. It’s a story that needs to be told, the acting by Driver and Bening in particular is sensational, and Burns neatly refuses to tie it up with a bow - the truth is out there but it changed almost nothing.

It’s a magnetic study of power, sex and rebellion in contemporary Chile, but it’s also a blistering character study and then there’s the ‘gotcha’ moment in the final act, which I was surprised by, and which didn’t feel necessary for the drama to be effective. Seen through the prism of reggaeton music and dance, this is a strange beast, with its call for artistic freedom, sexual fluidity and chaos ultimately sitting on top of a much more conventional drama, hidden until nearly the end. Much of the film involves no action, but the performances by Di Girolamo, Bernal and  Cabrera are superb and carry a sometimes overly arty movie through its thinner patches.

Slow to start perhaps but ultimately a poetic, emotionally devastating movie about lesbian love, seen through the prism of art. Overly artsy itself at times? Perhaps, but the performances by Haenel and Merlant are devastating, the direction note perfect, and the truth about their feelings is excitingly raw. Breaking out of proscribed roles and finding deep, transcendent feelings by challenging 18th century artistic conventions could be woefully pretentious, but instead there’s just charm, intelligence and honesty. All screenplays should be this smart, and all films should look this beautiful.

That was precisely the fun it needed to be - self-contained but comfortable owning its own corner of the DCEU. Oh sure Zachary Levi’s adult Billy and Asher Angel’s teen Billy have very little in common but they’re both great in their own right and this film has many levels of charm which paper over the flaws in the script. Strong is great as Sivana, but the threat he poses is scrappily written and the third act is a complete mess, despite some good comedic interludes. What really works is director David Sandberg and screenwriter Henry Gayden’s depiction and use of Billy’s foster family, channelling Johns & Frank’s latest reboot of the characters in the comics. It gives the film a unique character that I hope continues smoothly into the sequel.

Denis Côté’s bleak look at rural life in provincial Quebec is surprisingly watchable, given how little happens. Twenty one year old Simon’s apparent suicide unbalances the tiny community, as mysterious figures start to emerge. Life and death merge, as the Dubé family tries to find a way forward to a future the tiny community will never provide.  Without performances as strong as Robert Naylor’s this wouldn’t work quite as well, as horror and metaphor blur, and horror threatens to break into black comedy. The conclusion is both nihilistic and realistic in equal measure, as more than just Jimmy and his mother find their true paths. They’re not what you expect. There’s an air of David Lynch about this, but Côté nicely refuses quite that self indulgence and leaves questions pleasantly unanswered. It won’t be for everyone by any means.

Impresssive in its unconventionality but this is so intensely bleak I can’t say I was entertained. It takes a very long time for anything to happen and with very little energy to it it’s at once enjoyably unpredictable and easily discarded. Eisenberg doesn’t hold the film together well, with a one note performance, which makes his later unravelling unconvincing. Fanning is woefully underused despite some strong early scenes and Sarsgaard plays to type but then essentially vanishes. The banality of terrorism is a worthy subject, particularly for independent film making, but I’d have preferred some sense of character study, environmental politics or rural Oregonian life, certainly how they all intersect here. The direction however is laid back and ultimately leaves this film saying very little.

Annoyingly slow to start but an interesting meditation on ageing, change and missed opportunities. It has more heart than substance but does become more thoughtful as it goes on and the two central performances are superb. Also very welcome nudity, ahem. The one that got away? The dissatisfactions of age? Ocho and Javi’s story could have done with much more urgency but a film this thoughtful about the complicated tensions of modern gay life and relationships is still extremely welcome.

Just stunning. Saw it tonight as part of BFI Flare at Home 2020 - educational, hopeful and rewarding. I’d had no idea just how terrible and relentless trans representation on screen has been, and for how long. The strides made in the last few years is good, but it’s just a start.  I can’t recommend it highly enough.

Christ that’s nasty and more than likely a work of genius too. Yes Dafoe’s accent is sometimes impenetrable but it doesn’t matter - Rpats’ descent into madness is mesmerising in its brutality and nightmarishness. Told entirely in monochrome the cinematography adds a grimy layer of claustrophobia, so much so it’s not always clear what’s happening and what’s a drunken dream. It’s not going to be for everyone and I doubt I’ll watch it more than once, but performances like that and direction like that deserves award after award after award.

Only Taika Waititi could merge a black comedy, war movie and coming of age movie together and deliver something akin to genius. Whilst co-starring as Jojo’s imaginary friend Adolf Hitler. It’s hilariously funny where it shouldn’t be, deeply emotional when you least expect it and given how masterful his performance was, it’s shocking to find this is Roman Griffin Davis’ screen debut. He’s supported very powerfully indeed by Scarlet Johansson and Sam Waterston, not to mention Rebel Wilson (who has never been funnier) but this is a double header by Davis and Thomasin McKenzie as ‘Elsa’, and together they are electric. Waititi seems remarkably gifted at telling offbeat stories about children without any sentimentality at all. In this respect I enjoy his work more than any of Spielberg’s. The dark absurdity of Jojo Rabbit has a lot to say about the human condition, but it’s Waititi’s fearlessness at tackling antisemitism and the cult hysteria that allows fascist takeovers that makes this essential viewing.

Well high art it ain’t, it’s not even a terribly coherent remake of Return of the Jedi. Even the title is a very obvious gigantic spoiler you can see coming a mile away, even if some other spoilerish elements come out of left field. The acting for me was an improvement on the last two films, but even Isaac, Ridley and Boyega can’t overcome a script written by committee, which is bloated enough to rob much of the emotional scenes of depth when they eventually arrive. It’s a fun enough (if incoherent) romp, but doesn’t honour its past that well, and for all of the impressive CGI in the final scenes, some of the earlier special effects (Carrie Fisher I'm looking at you) are poor. It feels pretty clear that there are retcons built into the script, perhaps to overcome Fisher’s untimely death, but the very early villainous reveal suggests something else. Ian McDiarmid’s return is scary enough, but his appearance strips this finale of any originality at all. Even having Isaac and Boyega actually into one another would have been something (they certainly have chemistry), but as fun as Rise sometimes is, it’s also painfully predictable. Adam Driver’s final choice is intensely delivered, but it strictly follows formula and there’s little chance given for emotional resonance. I’ve heard there’s another trilogy being developed - given how much I liked Rogue One I hope they start from scratch.

For all its daring and invention, Todd Phillips’ film has shortcomings. The storytelling doesn’t always work (the twist involving Zazie Beetz is telegraphed very early on), the crescendo feels confused and unfocused (why do we have Batman’s origin here?) and there’s little tension in the build up to Arthur learning his background. Given who he becomes it’s not terribly surprising, and it was a reminder that Heath Ledger’s Joker was far more horrific by being completely unknowable. So it all depends on Joaquin Phoenix and man does he deliver - it’s a powerhouse performance, utterly compelling despite offering us no means of identifying with his character. The deeply violent emergence of the horror that is the Joker is historically risky for a film based on a comics character, and Phillips and Phoenix deserve credit for wrong footing Kevin Feige so thoroughly. It has a small class analysis built in - Thomas Wayne is intriguingly portrayed as an asshole, and given the rise of the fascist billionaires in the real US I’d like to have seen more of the nihilist Joker played off against Batman’s Trumpian father. Maybe next time. The film looked amazing, the cinematography was marvellously gritty, and I wish I liked the ending more. Joker was always going to go for DeNiro’s (flawlessly cast) talk show host. I enjoyed his delight at stirring up the murderous chaos on the train much more. Maybe it helped to reinforce the tragedy of his creation one last time - America does love to create its monsters, then gets shocked when they turn on them.

It sure is likeable but it sure is long. The performances are excellent - Sean Harris in particular, and Chalamet proving he can do moody as well as authoritative, although RPats’ turn as the Joker stands out as rather odd, considering he’ll soon be playing Bruce Wayne. The battle of Agincourt is impressively staged too - a lot of money was thrown at the production, but the direction is plodding and both character development and story are slow. There’s no real warmth either - Hal’s quest to unite the kingdom is interesting but it’s hardly fun, and the script is bloated. The conclusions about the nature of war, nation building and monarchy are interesting but brief, a little obvious and far too long in coming.

El Camino is a strange hybrid between a Breaking Bad sequel and a Jesse Pinkman character piece, and it works more than adequately as both, although in doing so creator Vince Gillian takes very few risks. It’s fun, white knuckle at times, and Aaron Paul makes stepping back in Jesse Pinkman’s shoes look effortless. His scenes with Robert Forster, Jesse Plemons and Scott MacArthur are brilliant - intense, compelling and in Forster’s case darkly comedic  - although many of them are set in the past. The emotional impact of much of El Camino is reduced if you can’t remember its original context. It’s an engaging trip down memory lane for the most part (and one cameo is of special note) but despite an enjoyably high bullet and explosion count there aren’t really any surprises to speak of. It’s cute, definitely worth watching, but it adds little new to the BB franchise other than a happy ending for Jesse.

I really wanted to love this, and there are lovely (and truly shocking) moments but the movie as a whole is wildly unfocused. This is because Tarantino opts to use a similar narrative structure to Inglorious Basterds - characters are set up, real history is introduced and ultimately completely fucked with for shock value. The history in occupied France is easily pliable, and Tarantino makes the most of it with a focused script. That’s much less true here, and the pairing of Di Caprio and Pitt never has a chance to take off. Individually they have awesome moments (although some really rambling scenes), but their chemistry together is downplayed in favour of Tarantino’s never ending love letter to Silver Age American television. When he tries to be clever it crawls, but he doesn’t scrimp on the more familiar shocks - the leads’ crossover with Sharon Tate and the Manson cult closes with even more scream-worthy scenes than Pitt’s last outing with Tarantino. Once Upon a time... is interesting, even though there isn’t a single likeable character, but it’s really hard work when it shouldn’t be.

Not quite as irritating, undecypherable and hatefully bad as Mother but it’s not far off. A very long tale of self indulgent nonsense, with a killer cast but no coherent story or point whatsoever.

The first MCU film post-Endgame is good, but not quite good enough. It’s too long, groanworthily expositional and determined to follow formula just when it's not called for. It’s a shame that Holland, Zendaya and Gyllenhaal are so poorly served by a script that feels like it was written by committee, and tries to blend a setup of the MCU for Phase 4, a well intentioned teen romance movie, a well crafted battle with Mysterio and a story where Peter Parker finally lives up to the legacies thrust upon him (again). Instead the strong elements are often lost - the comedic focus on the school European tour so soon after discussion about the ‘blip’ between Infnity War snaps undermines the latter without any good story reason. Such a frustration that a strong Mysterio film should get so needlessly short changed - it drags out on far too long, despite the best efforts of the excellent leads. It is fun though, and when it decides to pay attention to character development and action for the sake of quintessentially Spidey-style enjoyment rather than padding out the thin script it's a great rollercoaster ride. The post-credits sequence with J Jonah Jameson is also a sheer delight, and casting Peter as Jonah's 'menace' should finally balance out the overly breezy tone. Balance here only comes when Peter confides his shame at his mistakes to Happy - confronting Stark's legacy is a rich story seam to mine, and is left woefully underused. What little there is makes up a bit for the absence of a clear Ben Parker-inspired origin, and I hope we can now focus a little bit more on Peter’s development as a man, not just a superhero.

MIB International has none of its predecessors’ charms or likeability, and it’s a shame because all the ingredients are there - Thor and Valkyrie reteaming, Emma Thompson returning, and this is Men in Black, a franchise with a proven track record of delivering its own brand of idiosyncratic humour over plots that are actually fun. This film though is bland to the point of silliness - a predictable, cookie cutter plot, delivered without any hint of charm, or indeed any chemistry between Tessa Thompson and Chris Hemsworth. Indeed Hemsworth regularly feels like he’s acting in a different film. It only ever realises its potential when both Thompsons share the screen, and it makes you wonder just how strong a version of this film could have been without any leading man at all. It’s nice enough to revisit this universe, but the cynicism which permeates through every scene is infuriating. Why was a decent script so difficult to put together this time around?

I really wanted to like the final outing of Fox's run with the core X-Men franchise, but this film is pretty bad. It had a choice of running with Claremont & Byrne's seduction of absolute power theme, or Byrne's own later retcon of Jean being taken over by a cosmic being called the Phoenix, and writer/director Simon Kinberg fudges the issue by going for both and doing neither of them well. The entire film is clumsy, with repetitive dialogue (why does Tye Sheridan's Scott Summers have to whine at Jean so many times to see if she's 'ok'?) through to no coherent villain. Jean isn't really the villain of course (even though she does commit murder), it's Jessica Chastain's Vuk (of the alien D'Bari race), but seeing as this Dark Phoenix wasn't responsible for destroying her solar system her motivation is about as coherent as anyone's in the similarly weak Spider-Man 3 (Tobey Maguire's run). There are problems with acting, directing and writing - the worst problem being the number of mind numbing action pieces which don't move the narrative forward in any way. Sophie Turner, Tye Sheridan, Kodi Smit-McPhee and others aren't anywhere near strong enough actors to overcome a weak script, actors who are (Alexandra Shipp I'm looking at you) are sidelined, and the only First Class X-Man who seems to be making much of an effort is Nicholas Hoult as Hank McCoy. Narrative-wise though the film can't get over its central two problems: we only know most of these younger characters from X-Men: Apocalypse, and neither Bryan Singer nor his successor Kinberg here have given us reasons to invest in them. We also don't have much of a story to underpin Jean's downfall that's not heavily expositional - the 'mental barriers' Xavier put up in her youth breaking down as a result of absorbing the Phoenix Force may look good on a four colour page, but it's inadequate here. Jean killing Mystique would have been more dramatic a plot point if it hadn't been included in a trailer and Jennifer Lawrence hadn't phoned in her performance. Maybe they should have used Mastermind - Jean's moral compass breakdown doesn't come across on screen and it needs to. I'd say it was fun but even the action set pieces were dull, in particular the train battle in the final act. Where Jean realised she had to kill herself in the book to save the universe from the inevitability of her insanity, here she just gives herself over to the Phoenix Force, kills Vuk and seems to dissipate; no one seems terribly bothered, and there certainly isn't any character change in anyone as a result. It could all have been much better, but without any social/sexual orientation subtext it's just characters being moved around a screen for no real reason, and delivered without any heart at all. At least now it's time for Kevin Feige to get his hands on these characters, and I hope he fulfills his promise to wait to make sure he gets it right.

Where Infinity War was all action this is all character. Endgame cuts no corners in showing us the impact of Thanos’ Snapture - the Russo Brothers give the surviving Avengers room to breathe, bringing us the best performances we’ve seen from the founding characters. It takes some time for the pacing to increase, and when it does we’re treated to high adventure, masterful comedy, whimsy, a stream of fan moments and tragedy; not a moment is wasted. Where some of McFeely and Markus’ past efforts have tried to do too much, this tries to outdo everything Avengers and Cap related, and it’s note perfect. It’s like nothing I’ve seen from the MCU, nor elsewhere for that matter. It redefines the meaning of film epic. A screenplay that good needed next level performances, and they happen. Downey and Evans are devastating, Hemsworth continues to play to his strengths and finally Ruffalo has a chance to shine, unexpectedly owning huge swathes of the first two acts. My only reservation is that Brie Larson, Tessa Thompson, Danai Gurira and Letitia Wright are underused, but this is very clearly the final act for the founding Avengers and a great deal is set up for Phase 4 and Disney + in particular. There’s so much heart here I was tearful on more than one occasion. It’ll be tough for Feige to outdo this.

It’s a fun and occasionally funny film, but Brie Larson‘s debut also falls into some annoying traps. Captain Marvel plays overly much to formula - there are no real surprises and some lead characters are literally there only as deus ex machinas. It also takes forever to get into its stride - the opening sequences on Hala quite frankly bored me. Only when Maria and Monica Rambeau enter the frame is there the charm that Captain America: The First Avenger delivered in spades, and it’s annoying there’s such a muddled journey there. The final battles in space are fun (with the Easter egg nods to earlier MCU films), Carol (and Goose) unleashed is awesome, but we find out more about her from other characters’ exposition than Larson’s performance or a more focused script. Sam Jackson’s younger Fury and she are a great double act but he’s oddly laid back and so different to the Fury we know it occasionally felt like this wasn’t even an MCU film. Indeed where Black Panther and Guardians of the Galaxy knew just what they were from the outset, Captain Marvel is a likeable lead-in to Avengers: Endgame, despite never knowing quite what it wants to be.

It’s been a long time since I cared about an M Night Shyamalan movie, so I was shocked to have enjoyed this quite so much, but with James McAvoy as Kevin (et al) perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise. The pared back script sometimes loses focus, but the lead performances are so strong it’s forgivable, and the initial care Shyamalan takes to misdirect is welcome - this is not the serial killer movie it initially appears to be. Dennis abducts all three girls for reasons that aren’t initially obvious, and the most interesting exchanges are between him and his doctor Betty Buckley, who repeatedly steals the show from McAvoy. Making the horror of Dennis/Kevin’s mind implicit, not explicit is a clever conceit, and Shyamalan should be praised for such great casting in Buckley. It’s never really in doubt that The Beast is real, and his emergence is perhaps the most self-indulgent element of the film, but the return to super powerdom is long overdue for the writer-director, and does allow an oddly (if coveniently) cathartic conclusion for the excellent Anya Taylor-Joy. Yes she, Haley Lu Richardson and Jessica Sula are terribly wasted, and the final confrontation between Casey and The Beast is telegraphed for some time - there’s still clumsiness amidst Shyamalan’s return to his comfort zone. But this is also a very watchable thriller, which never tries to be overly clever, and at the last second emerges as a truly unexpected quasi-sequel to Unbreakable. I look forward to Glass!

I’m a massive Ewan McGregor fan but this is awful and his performance is as phoned in as it gets. The script isn’t in any way believable, the characters aren’t just unlikable they’re unbelievable  and even Naomie Harris & Damian Lewis manage to be both dull and forgettable. What the hell is the letter’s upper class MI6 agent?! Only Stellan Skarsgård puts any effort in, but a script about the Russian mafia should be far more interesting not to mention unpredictable than this. The ending is just execrable.

Paul Schrader’s First Reformed is a searing portrait of alienation and loneliness in Trump’s America. It’s intense, intelligent and bleak and Hawke’s performance compares very favourably with DeNiro’s in Schrader’s masterpieces of societal breakdown in the seventies (Taxi Driver and Raging Bull). Hope and despair are constantly in tension, Hawke’s Rev Tolliver argues, as they are omnipresent and co dependent qualities of the human condition, and Tolliver (and we) experiences a great deal of despair. He’s very much a mouthpiece for an America that has lost its way - happy on the surface but dying of cancer. Telling the story through the tensions and corruptions plaguing American Christianity is a bold move. Tolliver is preaching in a barely attended nothing church in Nowheresville USA. Told almost entirely in flashback, we see him isolated and alone, drinking heavily, but is asked by parishioner Amanda Seyfried to counsel her radical environmentalist husband, and he eloquently articulates a hope he clearly only barely believes in. A patriotic man, he’s lost, following the death of his son in Iraq and the breakdown of his marriage. Philip Ettinger’s Michael is all despair, opposed to the birth of his child into a world of ego, greed and environmental collapse. The stakes rise before their second encounter, as Seyfried discovers a suicide vest, which priest and parishioner dutifully remove, without shopping husband Michael to the authorities. Michael blows his head off minutes ahead of his second meeting with Tolliver, and the latter’s mental health falls off a cliff. He realises not only that Michael’s environmental fears were justified, but the church (or more rightly the mega church) he’s affiliated with is complicit in that greed. Schrader and Hawke show us how thin hope can be and how seductive despair, particularly given the many justifications for it. In an America where politics are paid for by corrupt industrialists how can faith survive and what room is there for love, compassion and care for the planet? Despite Hawke’s monumental performance the film isn’t perfect, as beautifully as it’s shot. Hawke has said the non ending is designed to be provocative and I found it annoying. For all Tolliver’s protestations about having to act, and having neither suicided privately or suicide bombed we have him kissing Seyfried with barbed wire wrapped around his torso before the film abruptly just stops. Overly artistic allegorical nonsense like that winds me up and left me wondering futilely about what Schrader was really saying about his priest and his country. Even contemporary America isn’t without hope?