Jarecki's film brilliantly illustrates the fallibility of memory, the slippery nature of 'facts' and even people's invention of events that may never have taken place.

Sure there are niggles, the most obvious being the length, which could have been reduced by trimming the prison sequences, but in the end this may be his finest moment so far which, by default, puts it in as having a strong claim on the title "best action movie ever made". Really.

Bold, gruesome and melancholic, this Gothic horrorfest offers us much to sink our teeth into: Cruise - who effectively disappears from the screen for half the film's duration - is terrific, Dunst eerily compelling, Banderas hypnotic.

An exhilarating fight-flick that, like its scrappy central character, is impossible not to root for.

Among the plethora of innocent charms on offer, there's the near perfect script by Zemekis and Bob Gale which not only negotiates its time travel paradoxes with deft, exuberant wit but invests the light-hearted plot machinations with a seasoning note of honest drama.

Cronenberg's best for a long time -- broad and entertaining enough for those unacquainted with the director's work, but layered with the themes of infection and mutation that have defined it.

Millions, like all kid-powered movies, stands or falls in the first place on the performances of its child actors, and Alex Etel and Lewis McGibbon both delight.

Painful, funny and beautifully acted, by Jeff Daniels particularly, who gives a career-best performance.

Even for non-Allen fans this has all the appeal of a good story well told and capped with a deliciously vicious little twist.

A delightfully obscene alternative to the usual Christmas tosh.

A deftly directed, superbly acted and occasionally witty biopic which is not afraid to engage with the complexities of its central character.

This story is emblematic of the passion, obsession and solitary poetry of surfing.

It's Bacon's astonishing performance that is a quiet, challenging and ultimately discomfortingly human voice.

There's the fact that First Blood is a first-rate, taught action thriller.

This campy extravaganza has it all - heroes, villains, beautiful women and high stakes. Laughably bad and fantastically good all at once, this is a guilty pleasure that everyone can enjoy.

The powerhouse of the film is Tim Curry's cross-dressing alien, Frank N. Furter, who would never reach these kinds of gloriously demented heights again.

Oh alright, it ain't "Shane." But it is about as much shamelessly disreputable, stylish, ultra-violent fun you're going to have at the movies this year.

Whether you're after a comedy-drama about cancer or a Rogen laugh-fest with added heart, this does a remarkable job of balancing the odds. And the laughter/tears split? Call it 70/30.

Surely cinema's first Mexican social-realist cannibal horror drama, it's grimly funny and at times horribly effective stuff. Ickily excellent.

A typically quixotic documentary in which great unknown artists from 35,000 years ago collaborate with one in 2011. Profound, mysterious and utterly absorbing.

A quartet of pitch-perfect performances from a cast uniformly at its career best, together with a director on shockingly mischievous top form, this is a shot of pure, exhilarating cinematic malice. And if nothing else, it contains the most surprising puking sequence since Monsieur Creosote.

Genuinely funny. A life lesson in never prejudging a man just because he's skinning a squirrel.

Competently made, and enjoyably played. But you do really end up wondering what the point was. Cinematic déjà vu is the most likely response.

Gorgeously realised, gripping and doused in De Palma’s familiar technical wizardry, this is only let down by the director’s equally familiar uninterest in the humanity of his characters.

Nobody does vapid bollocks as enjoyably as Tony Scott, and while this isn't as inventive as "Man On Fire" or as compelling as "Crimson Tide," it's still the right side of dumb.

Apart from an irritating plot glitch this is a solidly entertaining ride, more than competently directed and played.

Decent belly laughs occur, but they are spread thinly over a prolonged period.

in the end, Paycheck never quite cashes out.