Brightburn (David Yarovesky, 2019)

A childless couple in the rural American Midwest have their prayers for a child answered when a spaceship crashes near their house and they find a baby inside. They raise the child, who starts developing superpowers as he grows up. Sound familiar? Yes, it's a retelling of the Superman origin story, which then deviates from that template with the prepubescent alien becoming subject to the malevolent influence of a recurring message from the wreckage of the spaceship and gradually turning evil as a result. After that the film switches to full horror mode and concomitantly loses direction or interest. A pity, because the original premise had more potential.

5/10

Wonka (Paul King, 2023)

The director of the rather marvellous first two Paddington films takes on a bigger task in competing with the fondly remembered Gene Wilder-led original and Tim Burton's competent remake. Yes, it is a prequel which does not bother to explain how the titular chocolatier became the deranged misanthrope of the previous films, Willy Wonka being thoroughly nice and full of dreams, but Timothée Chalamet, who proves to be highly adept at both singing and dancing, drives the musical on, supported by the ubiquitous Olivia Colman as one of the villains and Hugh Grant as a haughty Oompa Loompa, of all things, as well as a huge cast of British comic stalwarts.

Wonka arrives in town intending to set up his own chocolate shop and soon, through his naivety, ends up in serfdom in a launderette alongside a host of other unfortunates. Undeterred, he puts his mind to escaping and never gives up despite numerous setbacks caused by the malicious chocolate cartel running the town.

The musical numbers are endless and the production design is as garishly over the top as Wonka's confections, but it does all click, at least on a cute level for kids young and old.

6/10

Wicked Little Letters (Thea Sharrock, 2023)

In the wake of the First World War, a single Irish woman with a daughter arrives in the small town of Littlehampton and unsettles the local Christian community with her raucous behaviour and profuse swearing. Her particularly devout neighbours are most upset, and when local residents start getting scabrously abusive, anonymous letters, the immigrant is seen as the natural culprit.

The film is based on a true story, but also puts a blackly comic slant on it, while also not neglecting the poisonously sexist and conservative environment of the time. The mystery element of uncovering the real perpetrator of the hate mail isn't especially complex, but there are a fair few guffaws to be had and the interplay between Jessie Buckley as the single mother Rose, Olivia Colman as her religious neighbour Edith and Timothy Spall as Edith's tyrannical father is as compelling as you could wish for from such a cast. The F-word and C-word count is through the roof within minutes and continues at such an excessive rate that it actually serves to drive the film on relentlessly by steamrolling through all constrictive social mores. Better to ridicule such a society than to just remain aghast at it.

7/10

The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare (Guy Ritchie, 2024)

Guy Ritchie's films do have a Ronseal quality to them, so whatever the topic, cheeky chappies, cross-referential quipping and lashings of extreme violence are guaranteed. This time, the formula is applied to a loose retelling of the British Operation Postmaster during the Second World War, with Henry Cavill leading a regtag band to sink a cargo ship integral to the U-boat menace in an African port. Scene by scene, it resembles Inglourious Basterds so heavily that Ritchie really should be paying Tarantino royalties. The Germans are caricatures, there's a cat-and-mouse game between Til Schweiger's head Nazi and the sole Jew in the marauding party and interludes with an ahistorical Churchill, who orders the mission.

It starts promisingly enough, like a comic Boys' Own escapade, but the wilful disregard for historicity soon becomes grating, and then it descends into nothing but endless shooting and explosions. Any tension evaporates as it does so, and so does interest in the outcome. Perhaps time to take the director's toys away now.

5/10

The End We Start From (Mahalia Belo, 2023)

Jodie Comer plays a woman who has just given birth when most of the UK is flooded, precipitating a national food shortage and forcing people to leave the cities. Going to her in-laws doesn't prove a long-term solution, so she and her husband are forced to move on again until they're separated when the shelter they find will only take one parent per child. But the country is in utter chaos, so it doesn't end there either.

This would be a standard apocalypse scenario in most hands, and admittedly the breaking down of society is overplayed. However the set-up is more plausible than most due to the very real threat posed by global warming and the focus is squarely on the insecurity of a mother whose child is in danger. Comer also puts in a strong performance, totally erasing any associations with her psychopath role in Killing Eve. In summary, the whole is not perfect by any means, with a lot of dead air, but deserves recognition for trying a different tack to the genre norm.

6/10

Dune: Part Two (Denis Villeneuve, 2024)

Unlike with most franchises, it was clear from the start that there would be a second instalment, so little exposition is needed to pick up where the story left off. Paul Atreides continues along his path to become messiah to the Fremen on the most strategically crucial planet in the galaxy while the cartoonishly evil Harkonnen plot to take over the Empire. It's mostly Timothée Chalamet moodily gazing over oceans of sand, for going on for three hours and for no particular dramatic justification. Sure, it looks spectacular and postures at grand drama, but really has very little to present or say that wasn't already covered in the first world-building part.

5/10

Green Book (Peter Farrelly, 2018)

Loosely based on a true story of an Italian American paid to drive a virtuoso black pianist on tour around the Deep South in 1962,  Green Book is basically a buddy movie also dealing with racial issues. Somewhat of a departure from the rest of the director's output of puerile comedy films, it recreates the atmosphere of the time vividly and does not flinch from depicting the poisonous racial intolerance that pervades society, even the lack of acceptance the pianist encounters from other black people for his educated mannerisms. It has been criticised for being yet another example of the white saviour trope, with the white driver repeatedly saving the pianist from assaults and even introducing him to the music of Aretha Franklin and the pleasure of eating fried chicken, but it really goes both ways, the pianist teaching the driver to write letters properly to his wife and stop characterising black people as a homogenous mass. Viggo Mortensen and Mahershala Ali, respectively as employee and employer, put in sterling work and the chemistry between them is palpable. It's genuinely affecting and for once, a deserving winner of the Best Picture Oscar.

8/10