Search: Starring Richard E Grant

Argylle isn't a delicate or even restrained construction, thread-bare and candy-coloured to the point that if it were underwear it'd be both crotchless and edible.

Coppola's aesthetic is all about excess and lacks the self awareness that let Hammer Horror films get away with this.

McCarthy is a revelation.

John Malkovich at his most endearingly camp.

Corpse Bride is even better than The Nightmare Before Christmas. It displays the imagination of a man, haunted in childhood by the Brothers Grimm, with a twisted sense of humour, steeped in 19th century romanticism.

Writer/director Richard Bracewell uses Andrew Hewitt's eerie soundtrack, darkness and dead space to produce a disjointed, slightly disturbing viewing experience.

The alchemy of film means that sometimes this amount of gold can still feel leaden.

Creative licence has been taken with Jamie's story, of course, but the essence of it - and particularly the emotional beats - have a strong ring of truth.

Its structure aims for Shakespeare, but is little more than shaky, its dialogue is dire and there is enough ham and wood in the performances to make a perfectly good barbecue.

Hunter S. Thompson and the crazy stories of what the pair got up to in the USA are an obvious highlight.

Two lazy fat cats with accents halve the fun.

Altman's great triumph is in galvanising the energies of exceptional actors into a living, breathing entity.

A high octane, low credibility caper

Reynolds has proved he's the king of dry delivery in everything from Deadpool to Pokemon Detective Pikachu but even his comedy Kevlar can't protect him from this script.

Robinson makes careful use of movement and perspective to keep us guessing whether the boil is real or a product of Bagley's disordered imagination.

Anyone over the age of 35 will find the whistle-stop, romanticised tour of Thatcher's career offers scarcely any insight, skating over most of the interesting issues.

Jackboots On Whitehall isn't afraid of stomping on a few tender sensibilities and its smut level is set to 'stun'.

This is a film full of cultivated emptiness.

Underlying everything is a sense of nihilism and borderline amorality in the face of destruction.

Jonathan Lipnicki is atypical of child stars in the sense that he can be quite annoying.

The Lesson is a treat. It's properly constructed, beautifully played. It might not quite cleave to classical unities but it knows enough to weave its course among them.

The film overdoses on violence. There is no escape from it.

This hilarious documentary is car crash viewing at its very finest.

For a feelgood movie, it is surprisingly slow.

Has an interesting script by Murray Watts, a wonderful sense of place and an imaginative use of flashbacks, where a painterly technique emulates memory.

The cast aren't helped by René Manzor's confused script that takes a blatantly humourous premise far too seriously and then is unsure whether to turn it into a weighty drama, or a twisty thriller.

It relies on often clumsy exposition, a common construction of "only if X" with a cut to "X has happened" leaves one asking "why?".

As a modern fairy tale Penelope has a gentle touch, and while flat in places it's definitely more silk purse than sow's ear.

Anchoring the audience with a perennial fence-sitter allows more room for the inevitable impact of the characters' stories, without the weight of an absolute ideological argument.

Time has not helped it, but I'm not sure what would.

The central problem here is a common one in fantasy epics: it does go on a bit.

A charming and entertaining take on the film within the film scenario, with solid performances from all of its cast.

Imagine the worst children's TV programme you've ever seen. Now remove any residual plot, replace the professional crew with children and halve the effects budget.

While immensely trashy, Warlock also takes itself very seriously, which is probably its saving grace.

Richard E Grant's performance is a masterpiece in comic acting.