Tom Duggins

What we’re left with is a sort of Blairite middle-ground where punches are pulled and no one really comes in for too much flack. Where’s the fun in that?

It has its moments, but the film is guilty of being fun but forgettable, much like those numerous spy stories cooked up on typewriters in the quiet hours of night and then lost to history when the guns fell silent.

With Old, Shyamalan appears to have embraced a devil-may-care attitude fitting for a filmmaker known to astound and dismay audiences in equal measure. Whisper it quietly, but it may be his best work in over a decade.

The same ragtag energy which propels it can occasionally become distracting, and there are sequences in the script which feel gratuitous. However, its independent spirit shines through gloriously, reminding the viewer that, really, a decent story and some talented actors is all that’s required to make a movie.

The film should scratch an itch for the Bowie obsessive hungering for a decent take on the overall mythology, but at the same time, it may leave that very audience wondering when, if at all, the South London lad will get a more comprehensive big screen outing.

The master of cerebral action cinema is back, and whatever lessons were learnt about the triumph of the human spirit during the making of Dunkirk, they were swiftly forgotten for this new piece of filmic flimflammery.

Brilliantly acted, shot with precision and style, this is a deconstruction of the ‘nuclear family’ that cries out for a second or third viewing.

System Crasher is the outstanding feature film debut of German director Nora Fingscheidt. A tremendous slice of life filled with light and energy, which doesn’t shy away from the tough realities of what social care is like for children with severe developmental issues.

Sadly, Radioactive is as lifeless and inert as a rock, badly let down by a dismal script, and carrying all the half-life of an unfinished fish dinner.

Its enigmatic lustre encourages you to take another look, like Marianne, to try and see what’s really in front of you.

Conceived as a biting commentary on inequality, sweatshop labour and…well, greed, the film lacks fluency and laughs, rarely managing to lands its many upward punches.

Parasite is quite simply a supreme feat of film-making, a tense and hilarious jewel box of a film that draws you deeper and deeper into its wicked, absurdist satire.

Dafoe and Pattinson bounce off one another brilliantly.

Occasionally, the script is a little too on-the-nose and expository, but the emotional force of the drama is such that those moments pass by without disturbing the overall impact of the film itself.

It’s a mesmerising watch for fans of Cohen’s music, a fitting portrait sewn artfully together, and given a greater intimacy by dint of the fact Broomfield himself spent time in Hydra in his twenties and befriended Marianne whilst there. The only glaring absence is the lack of commentary from Cohen himself on their relationship.

The film is a compelling, concerning artefact which shows demagoguery in action, without coming across as heavy-handed.

For all its heart and warmth, the desire to offer as many contrasting viewpoints as possible leads to a sense that the biggest elephant in the room isn’t really being dealt with. Support the Girls, ultimately, is a film about an industry built on sexism, that prefers not to dwell too long on the question of sexism itself.

An imagined biography of a fictional pop star, the film is ambitious in its structure but only occasionally flickers into life.

Director Marielle Heller takes viewers on a hilarious tour of New York’s memorabilia dealers, blending a mixture of heist comedy with a sensitive character study of Israel herself: “bitter as a root”, to use her own expression, but not without a certain irascible charm.

The real marvel of this biopic is how well it captures the stoic resolve of two men who come to realise, perhaps long after their own audience, that life has joined them together for better and for worse.

An Evening with Beverly Luff Linn, tries to make a virtue out of extreme silliness and disjointed, oh-so-random plot points, but the end result is a desperately tiresome viewing experience.

Mandy is not just hideous, hilarious and thrilling – although, it’s all of those and then some – it’s also a meditation on personal grief which loses no poignancy for all its blood-soaked insanity and eye-melting psychedelia.

Venom is a desperately confused piece of work which has only a few compensatory pleasures to offer along the way.

It’s an enjoyable but static viewing experience, where even the tales of wild parties, disco dancing and sex become worn out through overuse.

Fiennes doesn’t do anything radical in her handling of the footage or the approach, but with a subject like Grace Jones a simple approach is still spellbinding.

This is a compelling and rich documentary that captivates and inspires in a similar fashion to some of his best work behind the camera.

It mostly holds together, but you'd have to hope that David Brent: Life on the Road represents the farewell tour.

Whatever strange alchemy went into this film, nothing is so strange as how compelling it proves to be when you approach its premise with complete seriousness.