Search: Starring Winona Ryder

The sheer unexplained terror of the Aliens is more than enough to make them watchable.

A fascinating, if skewed, account of creativity gone wild.

Drawing on the grand guignol horror that its creator had loved since his own childhood, Beetlejuice combines gleefully gory special effects with high camp, sharp wit and irreverent humour.

Burton pieces together the components with a demonic rigour that belies its sequel status.

As elegant and overblown as ballet itself.

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

Branagh has none of Allen's flair for comedy.

While not particularly visually inventive, the director has a keen eye for the casually absurd, so that every setting he puts his characters in comes with just the right amount of daftness.

There are a couple of good laughs but they certainly don't carry two hours of film.

By contrasting an artificial man with the real but unsubtly false men and women of the world and their queer existences, Burton presents satire with a dull thud.

Almereyda jumps straight into the experiment which, over half a century later, is as fascinating and timely and important as ever.

While drawing on influences from the Golden Age of Universal horror movies such as Wolfman and Frankenstein, this is a animal entirely borne of Burton - and it's all the better for it.

The odd structure doesn’t always serve the film well, but Ryder is impressive, disappearing into her character in a way she has rarely managed to do elsewhere.

The film has every quality of a personal story.

Sharply acted all round, evocatively lit in bright Eighties colour, and perfectly paced, Heathers is a technical tour-de-force.

The tension leaks interest due to a high cliche content.

Looks for insight where there clearly isn’t any to be found.

Familiar situations are the order of the day. Chalk and cheese personalities are thrown together and must overcome some ordeal, which is normally an old flame.

Janusz Kaminski directs with an originality completely lacking in churn'em'out horror flicks, using bled, grained colour to create a look that peels the lustre of life from New York's dark soul.

In the end, it is a question of taste. Either this is Capra refried, or Sandler on toast.

It's largely in Jarmusch's preferred genre of tittering, offbeat comedy, though, and he conjures up some brilliant scenarios and characters.

Wry, funny and emotionally-charged.

Essential viewing.

Writer/director Andrew Niccol makes his point with the subtlety of a Vin Diesel chat up line.

It's difficult to imagine any fan of Dick's failing to adore this film; but as it retains the genius of his work, so it retains the flaws, and this could be a big problem for some other viewers.

JJ Abrams rescues Rodenbury's creation from the pop culture scrap heap and produces a very likeable romp.

While there is no denying that a post-modern examination of John Hughes’ high school is interesting, there is an aloofness here which plays badly against the central will they/won't they romance.

Ryder conveys alienation with an authenticity that puts the rest of the movie to shame.