Search: Starring Jean Reno

Jean Reno is unflappably cool. There's not much more to it.

Clips along at a fast enough pace for you to avoid noticing its flaws.

Showcases the venerable maverick’s directorial style at is best and its worst.

The Big Blue is pure cinéma du look.

This simple story of the relationship between a boy and an eagle speaks to cinema at its most magical.

Renoir’s adaptation of Zola’s novel is beautifully constructed.

This is a thoughtful, suspenseful film.

This is a movie for people who think that watching other people go through therapy is fun.

Complex and immersive, funny but with a sense of danger lurking in its darker moments, this is the sort of film that children and adults will watch to the end and then want to watch again.

Exciting, adventurous, and flush with visual and verbal gags

Unfortunately, things take a turn for the clunky.

As big liz flicks go, Godzilla delivers the goodies.

The plot is pants down puerile

It's deliciously grown-up.

The jokes are overplayed and feeble to the point of embarrassment.

Divorced by many years from the context of its original conception, the film might easily be viewed as just another rites-of-passage indie – albeit an unusually multi-faceted one.

For those who cannot follow the plot there are some really good set pieces, with enough tension and excitement to carry the movie.

Although some elements don't work too well, namely the lacklustre, almost prosaic direction of Levy, it survives with a lot of positives, not least the return to maniacal form of its star, The Grey Haired One.

Steve Martin is actually quite good at times, but he's let down mostly by a wafer-thin script and misguided direction.

The film's 15-certificate is a nonsense. The violence is ugly and relentless. The movie is ugly, too.

Frankenheimer's direction is so flawless and masterful that every frame of every scene flows effortlessly.

Gerard Depardieu... gives a performance that is accurate, sincere and unwatchable.

It is about the counterpointing of the popular with the stuffiness of well respected art, the harsh cold fluorescent light of the Metro station with the more humane darkness of the interconnecting conduits and forgotten spaces.

It suffers from an air of deja vu.