Search: Starring Zachary Quinto

The ingredients are perfect for an over-the-top frightfest, as monsters of the inhuman and human variety fight for control of the hospital, and the residents' souls.

The scripts are tight and engaging, the characterisation in-depth, the acting exemplary and the action and effects more than impressive.

A season pretty much split down the middle, all the good work of the latter episodes will probably have been missed by viewers that have switched off already.

Feels crammed and rushed as the writers scramble to wrap up storylines which were obviously designed to go on for longer.

There's effort, an electric hum, a glow, but for all the lightness and visions and torches borne and spots shone it never quite gels.

Rupert Friend plays Agent 47, managing to imbue him with a restrained and economical ferocity, until he opens his mouth and ruins the trick.

There is too much of the ring of the academic argument and, especially for a film so concerned with the spiritual, not quite enough soul.

There have been a lot of LGBT history documentaries around... this is by far the best.

The inevitable sadness is balanced by so much joy and energy that it's a delight to watch.

Chandor makes good use of his acting assets and there's no doubt that he knows how to direct, but ultimately, the dullness of the script is just a little too toxic.

Oliver Stone takes the story and gives it slick mainstream polish, bringing the issue home in a way that is understandable and urgent, even if his hero ends up seeming almost too good to be true.

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

The film’s flaws come primarily in the weak villain and some irritating editing and plotting choices.

The baddie's been beefed up, the plot's been pared down, but the emotional core which really sold the first film—the magnificent character interaction—remains unscathed.

Heder shows no signs of nerves with her first feature, boldly creating a trio of women who are, initially, prickly at best, slowly fleshing them out to reveal each as altogether more complex.

Romance is dead on arrival and the comedy should be served a gagging order.

Mylod doles out cliche after cliche - drinks and debauchery in clubs, waking up with Mr Wrong - but never injects enough warmth or humor into proceedings to keep them fresh.