Search: Starring Ciaran Hinds

Branagh has an easy way with a camera and isn't afraid of sentiment, but he offsets this with a good line in comedy that cuts through the softer stuff like an astringent.

You could make a film based on the achievement of almost anyone at the Invictus Games and you would be making Vinny's story

Not quite the eyeful it might have been.

A work of brilliance, painful as a punctured lung, fierce, uncompromised, operatic, sexual, startlingly beautiful and yet poisoned with evil.

Plot black holes quickly emerge and start to suck all believability out of the film.

Cold Lazarus ends writer Dennis Potter's career on an elegiac note. But, as ever for Potter, this elegy is played out in bitter minor chords.

The terrific performances are eclipsed by the unsettled tone.

It's Lee who dominates the film in a performance that feels animal, instinctual.

How the characters deal with grief is beautifully captured in the nuanced performances of McAvoy and Chastain.

This is a story about grief and loneliness here masquerading as one about rockets.

The animation is breathtaking and the characters are funny, charming and occasionally scary.

Cage here continues the recent return to his legendary loony best.

A terrific soundtrack and Jamie Bell’s perfectly judged performance and charismatic persona holds it together throughout.

This comedic and profane tale of not-so-cold-blooded killers seems to be the fusion of two movies, a very funny buddy comedy and a ruthless gangster thriller.

With plenty of meat for its fine cast to chew on, the film is often intense but never loses its nuance.

What should have been a pleasant, even a heartwarming and humorous story about the way life knocks us down and asks if we're able to pick ourselves up, is crippled by a screenplay that sets itself up to fail.

Action moves at a pleasing zip with an early fight scene setting the tone with spectacle but no wall-of-noise aggression.

García's cautiousness clogs up the human drama.

Lara has changed. No longer a three-dimensional computer game heroine, with enhanced breasts, she has emerged as the next James Bond.

It has beauty... but what it doesn't have is passion.

There is not much difference between Chris Menges' new movie and any other drugs-related thriller.

Margot ought to be a plum rôle, but Kidman withers it to a prune.

The performances are strong and the script by Ted Whitehead boned and lean.

Miami Vice is definitely style over substance.

Guinevere is the only well-developed character and the whole thing has an air of prettiness and predictability.

By positioning itself carefully between the imperatives of retaliatory justice and their fearful consequences, the movie is ultimately less a political thriller than a mesmerizing study of psychological breakdown.

Released to coincide with seasonal spending sprees, it will help to float modern day Herods' coffers.

A considerably flawed, yet visually superb, tale of beauty, beast and love.

Scraping nails and scratching heads are about as scary as this film gets, and these are two activities its audience will find themselves regularly indulging in.

Once the action gets going, it’s easy to forget that the plot has left for the planet La-La and just enjoy the fun.

The lady can't keep her clothes on. It's part of the training

For all its visual skill and mostly good performances, this is a tiresome, dull film.

It looks as if Scorsese is battling his own demons, oblivious of the pain he inflicts upon an unsuspecting audience

I do not know that I could ever with a good conscience describe a film as 'perfect' but this comes close.

Asinine and confusing.

I found myself transported back to a time when I truly believed there was every possibility that I would grow up to be a princess.

Anderson deals in originality. That is his currency. Don’t expect anything to resemble something you might have seen before.

Far from being a roaring, sinewy beast with a lot of bite that the title might suggest, John Boorman's latest has more in common with a lumbering white elephant.

The cool colours and muted emotions of this John Le Carré adaptation fit the 1973 Cold War backdrop perfectly and are appropriate for the murky world of moralistic shades of grey.

Director Joel Schumacher is subdued.

The slow-building tension of the stage play is still there, but the added narrative space sees room for for Grand Guignol shocks aplenty.

Pugh's performance, which dovetails nicely with newcomer Cassidy’s devout determination as Anna, can’t quite overcome the uneven plotting and, at times, flimsy characterisation.