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A stunning example of a pure, disorienting dream logic that cinema provides all too rarely.

Palaces and shimmering lakes, warplanes and fire sprites all come to life at the breath of Miyazaki's graphic genius.

The story is dense, overlong, and studded with references that will make sense only to those intimate with Nolan's previous excursions into Batmanhood.

The Dark Knight Rises is a tonally confused entity at its core. Simultaneously po-faced and ridiculous.

It's not just the birth of Batman we're seeing in this triumphant interpretation, it's also the dawning of Gotham City's age of greed.

An impressive cinematic renaissance for DC Comics' Dark Knight, and a blockbuster with more intelligence than most.

The film is never less than engaging, though considering that the title The Prestige refers to the moment in a magic act that gives it its "wow" factor, it's kind of a shame that the ultimate "reveal" in the movie is a little too tricky for its own good.

It's quite a movie -- atmospheric, obsessive, almost satanic.

The writers have created cardboard cutouts instead of flesh-and-blood characters.

It's a bit of a throwback and a solid family film and, at the time, represented a well-intentioned leap of faith of the sort that studios rarely take.

It brings me very little joy to report that this version of the popular Terminator franchise is silly, obtuse, and pointless.

Machines ultra-cool, humans not so cool in McG's noisy actioner.

Nothing terribly original happens in this remake of a 1957 semi-classic that starred Glenn Ford and Van Heflin, but everything happens smoothly and with grace.

Cinematic and wonderful on the big screen, this magnificent remake revisits the grandeur of the western, tossing around elements of morality in the melee of good pitted against evil... Russell Crowe is splendid.

Far too dark and menacing for kids, this fire-dragons story is far too silly for adults. With its M rating, maybe it's intended audience is exactly 15 year old boys.

It's hard not to like a film that has sky divers jumping out of helicopters to catch flying dragons in a big net.

Spielberg has dreamed of flying before, and this time he earns his wings.

Christian Bale, then 13, is a revelation as Jim, an obnoxious British colonial child being brought up in luxury in China.

A brave adaptation of a bracing book.

The slick satire cleverly equates materialism, narcissism, misogyny, and classism with homicide, but you may laugh so loud at the protagonist that you won't be able to hear yourself laughing with him.

If Nine Inch Nails, Swans and Ministry ever loomed large in the landscape of your imagination, Anderson's gloomy aesthetic may exert a sour but lingering pull.

Until now Bale's screen persona has been defined by a graceful athleticism; here his physicality is repellent, yet he carries the occasionally creaky plot of Scott Kosar's unsettling screenplay to a resonant finish.

Bale is forthright and emotional in the role, and with a hint of boyish vulnerability, even reminds us of his 13-year-old self in Spielberg's Empire of the Sun.

Zhang gives his fondness for chaste melodrama and shimmering colours full rein: it's a style that suits his courtly martial arts films such as Hero, but this material would have benefited from a more Spielbergian, or perhaps David Lean-ian, approach.

An efficient cop thriller, with a charismatic performance from Roundtree as "the cat that won't cop out when there's danger all about...Shaft!" Can you dig it?

A blaxploitation pic that's never quite as cool as its theme song.