Star Wars: The Force Awakens (12A)

First there was fear - fear that the distant, loving memory of a trilogy many of us grew up with would be further tarnished.

Then there was hope - hope that, having done a good job with Star Trek, JJ Abrams would restore the Star Wars universe to where it should be.

Not where George Lucas left it when he gave the world Jar Jar Binks and Hayden Christensen.

So it's not without some trepidation that you take your seat.

Then the screen goes dark.

Then the music starts.

Then the oh-so-familiar text appears on the screen.

And you start to relax.

This could actually be OK.

But it's not OK.

It's better than that.

So, so much better.

From the opening scenes, you know JJ has got it right. This is a film made with love and reverence for the source material.

We already know some old characters are going to be appearing (thankfully episodes one, two and three happened so long ago in Star Wars years everyone is now dead), but what of the new characters?

Will they be up to snuff?

Yup, they got that bang on too. Even with BB-8, the little orange and white droid fella, who manages to portray more emotion in this one film than Christensen managed in three.

And so it goes on with every passing scene.

Some places are new, some references are old, but across every frame you feel the warmth and comfort of home.

This is where we were meant to go next. Not backwards, but forwards.

The effects are superb, with everything feeling real and solid - not the dodgy CGI of recent outings. This, again, bolts Force onto the original trilogy firmly and solidly.

Each shot and scene is framed perfectly, in places harking back to the landscapes of the original film while in others giving you another bar you'd kill to drink in.

And there's not a duff performance to be seen.

Sure, Harrison Ford shouldn't be asked to run about, but to be fair running wasn't his forte 40-odd years ago, so that kind of works.

The stand-out, though, is Daisy Ridley.

Thrust front and centre from the get-go as Rey, the young actress with just a handful of TV credits to her name takes to the big screen like a duck to water.

She owns every scene, she more than holds her own against the likes of Carrie Fisher, and she balances humour and drama with consummate ease.

Alongside her, John Boyega (Finn) and Oscar Isaac (Poe Dameron) deliver fine performances, again delivering both quick one-liners and hard-paced action like they've been up in space their whole lives.

Ultimately, of course, it's the action that makes or breaks a Star Wars film.

Fans just want to see space ships flying about shooting stuff. It's what they grew up with.

And boy, do they get it.

From the moment the Falcon takes off, you're grinning from ear to ear. When you see an X-Wing, you want to cheer. When a Tie-Fighter blows up, you want to shout and applaud.

And that's the great thing about The Force Awakens.

The passion with which it was clearly made just flows off the screen, washing over you and taking you on another great thrill ride. One you haven't been on since, arguably, The Empire Strikes Back.

Your blood will pound, you will find yourself holding your breath, at times you won't believe what just happened, but through it all you'll just want more and more.

There are quibbles, sure (just how does BB-8 get UP the stairs?), but when the whole thing is just this much damn fun who cares?

It's not hugely original, the story will be very familiar to anyone with a passing knowledge of the history, but again - that doesn't matter.

You'll be too busy grinning and laughing to care.

Any film that's been this hyped stands every chance of falling short of expectations, but JJ and the gang have pulled it off.

With nods, winks and glimpses of what has gone before, we have been ushered into a whole new Star Wars era.

Buckle up, it promises to be a hell of a ride.

Black Mass (15)

These days, Johnny Depp is the acting equivalent of U2 - people either love him or hate him, and his latest work (when it's not a Pirates film) is always his best yet.

Which is neither true nor totally fair.

The thing you have to remember is that Depp pretty much does what he wants.

Which is why films like Dead Man exist, even though no one saw it, and the Pirates franchise is there - even though most right-thinking people wish it wasn't.

And it's almost certainly why Black Mass exists.

Playing the role of Boston gangster Jimmy 'Whitey' Bulger was never going to be easy - his victims' families are still rightly grieving, and it's so recent there hasn't been time for a Krays-esque aura to develop.

So someone who doesn't give a toss what the critics are going to say was always going to be the best choice to play a man who seemed to kill half of Boston from the mid-70s to the early 90s.

Getting any sympathy for this man was always going to be a hard sell.

So it's to Depp's - and the film's - credit that they don't bother, portraying the man as the heartless killer (and drug dealer, gun runner, racketeer etc etc) he was.

The other problem is, of course, that in doing a gangster film you are automatically putting yourself up against The Godfather and Goodfellas.

Every genre has it's cornerstone films, the ones that define the styles and themes by simply being the films you automatically think of when you hear the word.

And up there Black Mass isn't.

To be fair, it's not trying to be. But that doesn't stop the comparisons being made.

It's not glitzy, it's not glamourous. It's fairly brutal, the violence is not shied away from, and the portrayal of Boston (always known for it's gangsters) is as unflattering as you would hope.

In fact, it probably has more in common with the excellent A Most Violent Year - but even then, it seems to fall short.

The problem, I think, is that the whole film feels muted. Like everyone's underplaying it.

And I think this stems from Depp.

From the off, this is a very considered performance. Recent outings have all seemed to borrow from Captain Jack Sparrow, and it's clear he's doing something totally different here.

The problem is, as the lead character, as he underplays things so everyone else has to tone things down.

So we get less Kevin Bacon, less Benedict Cumberbatch, less Dakota Johnson (although to be honest she could just still be in post-50 Shades shock).

This slightly removed, distant, muted feel is hard to grasp or understand until Corey Stoll turns up as the new DA in town.

Suddenly we have someone giving it energy, presence, owning the scenes that he's in - there's a very clear step-up when he's around.

Tellingly, he doesn't share any screen time with Depp.

All of this only serves to add a level of disappointment to what could - and indeed should - have been a gritty, nasty telling of the life of a loathsome human being.

What you want is to come out of it feeling almost violated, like you need a shower and a change of clothes.

Instead you just feel flat, like you've just missed out on something that could have been great.

The performances are all perfectly good, if a little restrained, it's shot well, Boston looks like the slightly forgotten city it was back then... It's getting close to the mark all over the place.

But then little things let it down.

I'm pretty sure Jimmy gets called John at one stage, which you notice because it doesn't happen at any other point, and the attempts to make the pop-music references iconic definitely falls short.

Then there's the disappearance of one of the characters.

You don't notice straight away, but about halfway through you suddenly realise you haven't seen someone for a while. They've just vanished. Poof. Gone.

AND NO ONE MENTIONS IT.

And what the hell was Peter Sarsgaard's character doing talking to Boston's finest when he seemed to live in Florida?

And why does no one's hair change in 20 sodding years?

The structure of the film, however, is a plus.

Using a faux-documentary style, you leap between the now and the then effortlessly, fleshing out the story without giving too much away.

But it's not enough to save the day.

As I said earlier, this should - and could - have been a much nastier film. Make it an 18 (R in America I'm guessing) and you'll get a more visceral experience.

But as it is, you get everything dialled down slightly, leaving you feeling a bit 'meh', a bit unmoved.

Still, Depp's in heavy make-up and it's award season, so it might not have been a total waste of time.

The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2

We all know why this film exists. It's not for the fans, it's not because there was so much book to pack in it needed two films - it's to squeeze as much cash out of the cow as humanly possible.

We saw it happen with Harry Potter, with dire consequences - the first part of The Deathly Hallows effectively becoming Harry On Camping.

And we saw how, in doing this, Mockingjay Part One was made slow and leaden. And quite, quite dull.

But at least part two would be full of the bombastic action we so enjoyed in the first two films, right?

Well, erm...

They tried.

Bless 'em, they tried.

Unfortunately, there isn't enough action to spread out over two hours. So instead we get lots of attempts at drama and plot.

Attempts that feel like padding.

Across the two films, you get the action you're after, but in between you have to have all the star-crossed lovers guff which is better placed running alongside the action rather than being made the central theme.

At times you actually find your mind wandering as you wait for the next bit of fighting.

And that's not good.

Then there's slight problem of Part 2 picking up exactly where Part One left off with Peter back in the hands of the rebels and wanting to kill Katniss.

And if you can't remember Part One (and why would you?), you're playing catch-up from the get-go because it's just been blindly assumed that you know what's going on.

The plan here is a simple one. Storm the Capital, take out President Snow, save the day.

Snow, meanwhile, has turned the streets of the Capital into another Hunger Games arena, so there's lots of things to blow you up, shoot you or attack and try and eat you.

And those are the bits you're waiting for.

Sadly, the filming of the main battles are so poorly shot that you can't make head nor tail of what's going on until someone's name is yelled in pain-stricken grief.

But it's different to the first films, oh yes.

Because they're running about in the streets and sewers, not in the trees and lakes. So that's OK.

Only it leaves the main bulk of the film feeling like a computer game.

But let's be fair.

Maybe the death of Phillip Seymour Hoffman caused them a bigger problem this time round. Maybe it's in replacing the bits he should have been in that we hit the problem.

Or maybe, just maybe, in trying to stretch an average-sized book across four hours of screen time there just isn't enough quality.

And you can't blame the cast.

Jennifer Lawrence (Katniss), Josh Hutcherson (Peeta), Liam Hemsworth (Gale) and Donald Sutherland (who steals every scene as President Snow) all put in fine performances, even if Liam and Josh look slightly puzzled and/or bored at times.

This was a much-loved franchise, and I'm sure there will be fans who think this a fitting end to the sage.

But it's not.

With so few highlights, a semi-sombre trudge to the end, wrapped up with more final scenes than Lord Of The Rings, was no way to finish what had been a great saga.

Spectre (12A)

It's been a funny old time for James Bond - he of the gadgets and the cars and the girls and the product placements.

First, he came back blond in Casino Royale, and the world went mad. Only the film was actually quite good.

Then he came back in Quantum Of Solace, and we all wished he hadn't.

Then he came back with Skyfall and the world was a happy place again as we got a heady mix of mad villains and emotional heft.

So what was to happen next?

Would it be Skyfall good or Quantum bad?

Well, as it turns out, it's kind of neither.

First off, the good stuff.

For the most part, this film is fun.

It has nods to the past (the opening sequence definitely harking back to the Bond heyday), it has the cars, it's upped the gadget count a smidge and there's a delightful amount of running about blowing stuff up.

And that, in essence, is what you want from a Bond film.

The action sequences are perfectly paced and shot, without going over-the-top (if you ignore the bad CGI of the building collapsing, and I am), and the car chase is just the right side of bonkers.

And the cars are bloody ace - especially James'.

And it has a fanboy moment that will make you squeal with delight.

Craig has pretty much nailed his Bond, and if you seen any of the others you know what you're getting - only this time there's the odd smile and show of emotion.

Sadly, though, there are a few moments that are something of a fly in the martini.

For a start, Christoph Waltz is only saved from being the worst modern Bond villain by Mathieu Amalric's pathetically weak accountant in Quantum.

I like Waltz, he's a bloody good actor, and he can do borderline nuts with the best of them - so why was he reigned in? Why wasn't he allowed to just act like a man trying to take over the planet?

Instead we get a sullen, downbeat performance that carries all the threat and menace of a guinea pig with a cold. He comes across like a man who's just found out someone broke his favourite Coldplay CD, and that's not what you want from a Bond villain.

And yes, there are a few moments that raise a question or two (how the hell DID he get to Italy so quickly? How did she manage to get undressed after passing out pissed?), but there's enough other fun stuff going on that you can forgive them.

Then there's the car bit, which makes you forgive everything.

But sadly, there's the ending.

Now, I know the rules - we all know the rules.

Bond saves the day but destroys everything in a 20-mile radius.

That's how this works.

Now, under our own rules I can't say any more - but if you don't walk out wanting to shoot the writers I'll be amazed.

To do that having already dragged it out for half an hour more than needed is unforgivable.

And it's because the rest of the film is such fun that it hurts even more.

For the most part, this is as close as Daniel Craig and director Sam Mendes have dared to get to the Bond legacy while maintaining the modern vibe.

And for that, it's great.

Just pretend you didn't see the last twenty minutes.

Suffragette (12A)

Remember us? Yeah, we used to write film reviews. Then we decided moving would be a good idea and it all went to hell.

So, finally, we've found where the cinema is (The Electric Palace in Harwich on this occasion), we've unpacked some stuff and most of the furniture is no longer flat-packed.

It's been a stressful time, we can't deny, so what better way to unwind than hit the big screen and relax with a few chuckles and a laugh or five?

Well, that was the plan...

First, The Electric Palace.

Now, I have a soft-spot for this place. It's where my love of film was born. Yes, I may have seen Krull and Ewoks: Caravan Of Courage there, but that didn't put me off.

Having been refurbished and resurrected by a committee of local stalwarts, the Palace is now an important local landmark and it's getting some good films and cinematic events.

It's also got Clive Owen as patron, so that helps.

And OK, the seats aren't comfortable, and the screen is a tad small when you're used to the World Of Cine, but where else can you pop to get an ice cream or have a pee after the trailers and ads without missing any of the film?

And they put the house lights up so you can see where you're going.

It's a great place to fall in love with film again.

Or it would be if you hadn't decided to go and see Suffragette.

Now, yes, I know, it's an important subject and the story needs telling now more than ever as we try and get people to re-engage with the whole voting process - but it needed to be told well.

Instead, what you get are a series of loosely-linked vignettes which serve more as a highlights package than serving up a story of depth and substance.

For those of you still unsure what the film's about, it's not a documentary on the making of a fine Wings song (that would have been more fun), but a look at how women fought to get the right to vote.

Like I said, an important story.

And the performances are up to the task at hand.

Carey Mulligan, Anne-Marie Duff, Helena Bonham Carter and Ben Whishaw all turn in fine performances, capturing the drudgery and conflict of the day.

Which is no mean feat when the story is so thin and the characters lack any depth.

At no point do you feel you are getting to grips with the events. It's like you're being told by a disinterested observer rather than being compelled to engage with the narrative.

You should be coming out of the cinema infused with a desire to fight the system, bring about change, stand up for what they stood for...

Instead, you find yourself thinking 'well, that happened - ooh, look, there's still time to grab a pint across the road'.

And that shouldn't be happening.

I get that there is probably a lot to pack in, a lot happened in the build-up to the event that was to force through the changes albeit eventually, but rather than trying to tell the whole story maybe it would have been better to focus on just a few key events.

What also doesn't help is the part of Emmeline Pankhurst is played by Meryl Streep - both fleetingly and without any sense of drama or who she actually she is.

One could actually walk out of the cinema thinking Maggie Thatcher started the movement, which is wrong on many, many levels.

And then there's the whole shaky-cam thing.

Using a hand-held camera certainly puts you right in the action, but here it only serves to confuse and muddy the scenes it's used for. It certainly doesn't make the struggle any more real.

This should be a worthy film - and, as mentioned, many of the performances are great.

But somehow, a film about one of the seminal movements of the 20th Century fails to hammer home just how momentous the events were.

Instead, it's left to the closing pre-credit sequence to make the point about how much work still needs to be done in the name of equality.

Still, nice to be back at the Palace...

Fantastic Four (12A)

I know I'm getting old, but we all remember the last Fantastic 4 film right? I know the Silver Surfer one was duff, but the first one was OK.

And it had Stan Lee in, so that made it cool.

Who the hell decided we needed another frickin' reboot?

What's that? Darker and grittier you say? Well, that makes everything OK...

And if it had have been, it might have done.

Instead we spend more than half the film explaining how the 4 got together, leaving barely any time left for the big battle at the end.

Who's big idea was that?

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Let's start at the start, where Reed Richards is at school at meets Ben Grimm and they do experiments in the garage.

Then let's leap ahead to the pair of them getting picked up by the mysterious Baxter Institute at the school's science fair - and let's try to overlook the fact that, even though both of them worked on it, only Reed gets the golden ticket.

And don't ask why Pa Storm was taking his daughter Sue on a work jolly. He just was, OK?

So now we're at the institute, only the genius Victor Von Doom is sulking in a lock-up somewhere.

Not to worry, Pa Storm has a word and we're all good.

We have our four (once Johnny has stopped playing with cars). Hurrah.

Only that's not the four, so we have to stretch the plot even thinner to shoe-horn in Ben at the back end.

And I could live with the huge backstory if the dialogue was snappy and the actors (star of Whiplash Miles Teller as Reed, Kate Mara as Sue, Michael B Jordan as Johnny and Jamie Bell as Ben) looked like they believed in what was happening.

But even they are clearly struggling.

And there are so many questions that go unanswered.

Like where did Doom get his cloak from? And how did they get that stretcher out, along with the 12-strong team?

Let's be clear about this. This is a superhero movie.

Which means we want a quick 'how they all got there' followed by lots of flying about, big fights, massive explosions, and oodles of zip and pizzazz.

And humour.

Not just the bit early on when Reed blows the whole town's lights. More.

Check the books. There's banter. It's fun, dammit!

I'm sure somebody somewhere has a very good reason as to why this film exists, but as someone who walked out into the daylight wondering what else I could have done with the time I'm at a lost.

It's not a new take.

It's not even a fun take.

It's a tedious re-telling of a story we all know that lacks energy and enthusiasm.

And Doom's really crap. A reject from AI doesn't make for a bad baddy, OK?

Thankfully it hasn't set the box office alight, so we should be spared a sequel.

Pardon?

Oh nuts.

Well, let's just pray it's better than Rise Of The Silver Surfer.

Trainwreck (15)

I have two problems, approaching the reviewing of this film.

I'm not allowed to disclose the ending, I have a real problem with Judd Apatow, and I'm old fashioned in that I think comedies should be funny.

OK, three problems.

And it's too sodding long.

Right, four problems. I'll stop now before the list becomes the whole review.

So which one to start with?

Let's start with Apatow.

Now, I hated This Is 40. Billed as his 'all grown up' film, it painted a loathsome picture of a bunch of loathsome people. And as I was hitting 40 the year it came out, I took real exception to the way my age bracket was being portrayed.

Trainwreck is actually worse.

The premise is essentially sound - Amy Schumer plays a woman who is quite happy to be dicking around, getting wrecked and shagging anything that sits still long enough.

And at this point, I have no problem with the film.

That the central character is perfectly happy with her lifestyle is actually a very positive message to send out.

Not that she SHOULD be living that way, but that she CAN if she so CHOOSES.

She's also a journalist. And this is the first hurdle at which the film falls.

While trying to satirise the junk and crap that passes for popular magazine fodder these days, it's clear Schumer (who wrote this thing) has never spent any time around the real people who create them.

What you get is a bunch of cliches and bullshit, and an editor played by Tilda Swinton doing an impression of Gillian Taylforth playing latter stages Kathy Beale.

It actually took me a while to realise it was Swinton.

Then I spent the rest of the film wondering what the hell had caused her to agree to being in this car crash of a movie.

Elsewhere, we have celebrity cameos - including LeBron James.

We know it's LeBron James because LeBron James keeps mentioning that LeBron James is LeBron James.

LeBron James likes talking about himself in the third person.

We also have Bill Hader, playing a sports physio who seems to spend as much time in a hospital as he does treating LeBron James.

A man who is such a massive star you just know Miami Heat would not be worried about him getting treated by a guy in an office somewhere rather than their extensive team of health folks.

No no, that would be fine.

I mean, Schumer's researched this stuff, right?

Then there's the jokes.

The opening 10-15 minutes are faintly amusing, with lots of smut and sex jokes. But after that...

Let's just say subtle wasn't one of the words used by the test audiences.

We also have the small matter of her dad having MS.

Not for comedic purposes, as far as I can tell. Not for drama. It seems to be a condition that wouldn't cause too much offence as no one knows what it is.

You can almost hear the meeting where it was decided they couldn't use cancer (been done, Amy) or Parkinsons (too Michael J Fox sweetie).

MS? You mean Microsoft? Oh, it's a real thing? Let's go with that!

When it's first uttered (and, OK, I know I might be a smidge sensitive on this) it really leaps out. I mean slap-in-the-face leaps out.

The fact it doesn't go anywhere makes you wonder why him simply being 'ill' wasn't enough. It's not like attention to detail is a watch word here.

So, after 15 minutes of smut and an editorial meeting staffed by clowns, the love interest arrives and the plane finally takes off.

And splutters and stalls for another two pissing hours.

Christopher Nolan can keep me in my seat for half my life, that's fine. He's got big ideas and an ability to make a film look good even if it doesn't make any sense.

But Apatow?

He may be trying to be a serious film maker, he may have an ego the size of Florida, but look at his catalogue.

Ideally 90 minutes, and he's done. It makes some people laugh.

Two hours is stretching the sketch a bit far. The jokes get fewer and further between. And less funny.

It's the law of diminishing returns.

So you can imagine what two hours 20 mins does for a film.

Exactly.

Throw in an ending that has you spewing bile and expletives at the screen, and you have quite the rom-com date movie.

Just try and forget the fact you paid money to see it.

(Do I get a brownie point for avoiding the obvious title-related joke?)