Search: Starring Sylvester Stallone

The script is witty and the animation has moments of breathtaking imagery.

In addition to issues of physical discomfort, the film suffers from an unnecessarily convoluted and drawn out plot in which there's very little actually happening.

Bourbon Street and its surroundings have rarely seemed so authentically seedy.

Coogler draws on the traditional elements of Rocky's success - strength of character in adversity, old-fashioned romance and, of course, a climactic fight - and tricks them out for the mobile phone generation to give them a new lease of life.

The action sequences are state-of-the-art and there is a chase through the busy streets of Chicago in racing cars that is genuinely thrilling.

The scriptwriters commit hari-kari, leaving the movie up to its neck in hokum.

Tired, bloated, crude, stumbling, and showing its age, Expendables as a franchise is perhaps a reflection of some of its cast.

The Expendables 2 has the cast you feel the first one should've had - though Steven Seagal is really needed to complete the alignment of the planets - but it fails to craft anything really unique on its own with these assets.

Despite admirably attempting to appear otherwise, Miles Chaplin and Jason Keller’s script is transparently stoopid, but mostly in the best way.

This is a giant, proud B-movie, the kind of movie that Hollywood doesn’t put into multiplexes much any more.

You get what you pay for with a little bit of humour to lubricate the violence

Stallone's energy and ambition knew no bounds in the Eighties.

It’s wobbly on its feet, but it’s definitely got heart.

Making sense of explosions on green screen is a tough call

A simple piece of mindlessly gratifying entertainment.

This is brutal stuff, lashings of the old ultraviolence, with rivers of blood shed in the mud and the rain.

Whatever reality First Blood had is well and truly gone now.

Somewhere the plot hangs by a thread. All you have to do is find it. But you can't

Rocky Balboa does not disappoint when it comes to the staples of a Rocky picture - the hard-earned training (raw egg chugging and knuckle meat-tenderisers are welcome, present and correct) and thrilling fight footage

Rocky’s necessary fall from grace back into the gutter makes us root for the big-hearted lug every south paw-jabbing step of the way.

Not full-on farce, but getting there.

One for the eyes and ears instead of the heart and head.

Despite overdoing the mumbling a bit Stallone wins us over again with some nice dialogue.

Credit is due to John G Avildsen for directing (he won one of three trophies), but the real victory here belongs to Sly.

As love letters to a friend go, this is one of the funniest and most likeable I’ve seen in a while.

It's the film's sheer lack of charm that proves terminal.