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Even the ending, which otherwise would be dismissed as inconclusive, feels valid and true, emphasising yet again the magic that is Mann.

A love letter to the resilience of the bereaved.

Mann brings an artistic density, adding another dimension to aspiration and fear.

Flails about through a series of ostensible set-pieces until it reaches a conclusion that verges on the nonsensical.

Witherspoon treads water. It's a shame.

Spielberg, as he is very good at, goes out on a limb to walk a tightrope of his own making between melodrama and sinewy storytelling.

Damon has a problem playing down-and-outs. He's so clean cut, three days' growth doesn't fool anyone.

Certain scenes feel too glib and stagey, as though they’ve been doused with pop video gloss – particularly the snow, which surely had its own assistant, make-up artist and trailer.

The plot has holes as big as horses, but you hardly notice, because the performances have their hooks in early and Ridley Scott's direction runs as smooth as mercury.

There's no subtlety here. Follow the dots.

The production values and high octane performances make this an entertaining piece of hokum, although the sentimental denouement is a disappointment.

Pain has a price

Flawed yes, but by doing everything better than you'd expect, Timecop is the thinking man's Van Damme movie.