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In cinema the lowest form of scare is undoubtedly the jump scare. It takes an artist to frame a chilling image  and a clever writer to come up with a fearsome entity. Any fool with a big stick can make a loud noise. Paranormal Activity 2 is a film all about loud noises: American family, demonic possession. Bang. Bang. Bang. Some of these moments are mightily effective, but l ike a rollercoaster work only for that instant.  There's nothing behind them, no meat to chew over, nothing for the unnerved movie-goer to ponder over on the late night walk back home. Events in the film unfold, faux-documentary style through a combination of handheld video and clips from a closed-circuit security system. The methodical cycling through footage of different rooms fails to live up to the potential of the idea, with only a scattering of "did you see...?" manipulations. Acting as a wrap-around compa...

Suspiria is a pitch-perfect example of "pure" horror cinema; the near-total disregard of narrative and character in favour of painstakingly setting a specific mood and atmosphere. The results will frustrate those seeking logic, but offer in its place an unparalleled aesthetic experience; a whirling maelstrom of colour and composition accompanied by a cacophony of sound designed to unsettle and unnerve. It's proof if proof need be that in the right hands, books and films can be very different things indeed. The story could be written on the back of a beer mat, and involves witches at a German ballet school, but like all Argento films it is little more than a framework to support a series of increasingly outrageous murder scenes, the director's ruthlessly sadistic streak competing directly with his decorative sense of fine detail and beauty. With Italian prog-rockers Goblin providing the deafening soundtrack, one doesn't so much watch Suspiria as be buffeted a...

One of the most visually brilliant films ever made. The combined design endeavours of Swiss surrealist H.R Giger, French illustrator Jean Giraud, American designer and illustrator Ron Cobb and British comic and film artist Chris Foss make for a film that can be both breathtakingly beautiful and strikingly nightmarish.  The cast are strong and the music haunting, but it is the look of ALIEN; the langurous, masterful direction of Ridley Scott and the ideas that the aforementioned visionaries brought to what might otherwise be a fairly standard horror film that propels it into the realms of genius.

Legendary Vietnam-in-space action horror from director James Cameron, deftly proving that The Terminator was far from a fluke. Skillfully crafted for less than the catering budget on some of today's mega-budget blockbusters, ALIENS wisely eshews trying to beat Ridley Scott at his own game and instead opts for a slick combination of military fetishm, maternal instincts and classic war movie tropes, delivering one of the most tense, satisfying and rousing genre films ever made. Endlessly quotable and with first-rate sets, effects and direction, ALIENS (the theatrical cut, avoid the bloated Special Edition) never once puts a foot wrong and shows how to do a sequel that pays loving homage to the original, without recycling, insulting or misunderstanding.

Famously wracked with production troubles, Alien3 still manages to astound with a deliberate return to both the gothic trappings of the original film, and an alien creature that is clearly more than just an expendable bug. Unrepentantly bleak and downbeat from tragic beginning right the way through to the final shot, the film bravely attempts to undo the 'shoot-em-up' tag James Cameron's second film had left the series with, and was critically punished for doing so. Nonetheless it is still a beautiful, graceful film with a black cynical heart beating underneath - a combination that even the most meddling studio couldn't extinguish. The 2005 Assembly Cut reinstates a further half an hour of black blasted misery, hysteria and murder, returning the film to something vaguely akin to its original form, and is even more starkly compelling than the original.

Few directors could take a premise as potentially explosive as a giant robot war on Earth and make it boring, but Michael Bay manages with effort to spare. Overlong, woefully unfunny, and filmed like an advert for a men's razor, Transformers limps along as one-dimensional character cyphers run back and forth, chasing an increasingly ridiculous set of plot devices, while violence sporadically erupts, and is instantly rendered nigh-unwatchable thanks to Bay's dreadful shaky-cam direction. With a bland, identikit cast that has clearly mistaken shouting for acting it is down to the Transformers themselves to provide the human interest, but apart from the platitude-spouting Optimus Prime and the silent Bumblebee, the rest of the robots look and sound too similar and do too little to be in any way memorable. This is a terrible film, one which no amount of nostalgia or brainless summer apologism can possibly excuse. And if the rumours are true that it was only ever made because pr...

Nostalgia can be a powerful tool, ask any child who grew up on this film and they'll tell you that crying when Optimus Prime died was our generation's 'hiding behind the sofa from the Daleks.' Like its parent series TFTM is a shameless manipulative exercise in merchandising, killing old characters purely to make space for new ones fresh off the toy lines. With a darker and more cynical tone than the series, it also benefits from the increased budget, its animation far better than the cheapo TV shows and the soundtrack, a combination of wonderfully un-self-conscious power rock and Vince DiCola's industrial, electronic funk providing the perfect backing to this futuristic adventure. Despite myriad flaws it is still hugely entertaining, flitting breathlessly between deftly-directed action sequences, juvenile humour and even a musical set piece with barely time for the flimsiest exposition. Obviously aimed at pre-teens with millisecond attention spans it's exhau...

David Lynch's ERASERHEAD is a gloriously thick, analogue, black-and-white nightmare vision of marriage and child-raising. It follows the life of Henry, an unassuming, awkward young man who endures a series of surreal, terrifying renditions of family situations; having dinner with his girlfriend's parents, discovering his girl is pregnant and raising the resultant monstrous offspring as their own. The film mercilessly flits back and forth between reality and fantasy, the outre nature of the characters and their environment making it sometimes difficult to tell one from the other. Rich in hidden meaning and suggestion and with a dark vein of humour running throughout, Eraserhead is a pure, visceral slice of cinema that has to be experienced, or suffered, at least once by every film fan.

Again and again throughout this film director Paul Anderson exposes his miniscule talent and ambition like a demented flasher. If it's not vapid reconstructions of scenes from previous films or desperate attempts at creating 'iconic' images, it's pathetic non-characters and men in suits engaging in poorly-shot gunplay and fisticuffs. With no characters and too tenuous a plot to even notice, when the film's tagline asks the audience to ponder on who will win this battle of sci-fi horror titans, an hour and fifty minutes later the answer turns out to have been 'nobody cares.' Too scared to play it 100% straight, AvP adopts a mock-ironic, knowing tone, which neuters its effectiveness just as much as the 12A rating, and one comes away from it with a sense of an incredible wasted opportunity. Clearly budget, talent and time were unscalable barriers that none of the cast, crew or studio could ever possibly hope to overcome.

Extremely effective, genuinely tense and intelligently constructed serial killer film, elevated way above the norm by Michael Mann's elegant direction, a strong cast, gorgeous photography and a moodily evocative synthesised soundtrack. Sensibly reigning in the more over-the-top moments of Thomas Harris' original novel, Manhunter is far more than the sum of its parts; managaing to be chilling, haunting, funny and thrilling by turn, succeeding everywhere the increasingly cynical and ridiculous sequels/remakes failed to do.

LIMBO is an independently-developed XBOX Live platformer; a simply-told monochrome nightmare of perilous jumping and clever physics-based puzzles. With no real plot or character, LIMBO is minimalist in the extreme. There is no on-screen clutter; no score or power bar. You have no lives to speak of, as liberally-placed checkpoints before and after each event ensure that there is never far to travel after suffering one of the numerous, black-humoured death animations. All you have to do is survive and progress. Where LIMBO scores highest is with its overwhelming atmosphere. Beginning the game in a dark forest, your child protagonist ventures forth from left to right, avoiding pitfalls as huge trees, arachnids and primitive tribespeople gradually give way to dilapidated cityscapes and eventually a monstrous industrial complex. Every screen is a stark, depressing and beautifully-rendered tableau that adds immensely to the overall experience. LIMBO sounds as good as it looks, with flat...

Not content with claiming top dog status at Doctor Who, writer-producer Steven Moffat has turned his talents to a contemporary reimagining of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famous detective. Transplanted to modern-day London and given a shot in the arm (not of opium, mind) Sherlock sets out to prove that the science of deduction cannot be beaten, whatever the century. The wonderfully-named Benedict Cumberbatch is superb as the modern-day Holmes, who with just a hint of Jeremy Brett totally captures the frustrated, arrogant and almost autistic genius at the heart of the character. Martin Freeman does a convincing enough job of playing Martin Freeman, the script wisely avoiding the idiot Watson of many of the prior adaptations. Everyone else fits neatly into their pre-set roles, the bumbling Lestrade, the busybody Mrs Hudson and assorted red herrings, victims and obstructions. But while the characters and setting have been updated fittingly, the episode is filled with great clunking refe...

Silence of the Lambs begins the inescapable downward spiral of commercialisation over creativity, with Jonathan Demme's famous 1991 serial killer movie based on the novel of the same name. Nearly identical to Manhunter/Red Dragon in terms of structure, Silence attempts to distract the viewer from this by unwisely upping the ante of the content with more violence and weirdness, and an even more ludicrous and twisted social misfit killer. The film also marks the start of the transformation of the character of Hannibal Lector from believable, chilling minor role to the serial killer version of Ronald McDonald; a supernaturally-powered, pun-dispensing omnipotent face-eater. Anthony Hopkins' hissable pantomime version robs the character of any menace or dignity and replaces them with cliched evil genius tics and a parade of funny voices. And while Jodie Foster is splendid in the role of FBI agent-in-training Clarice Starling, the one-two punch of the film's crippling simil...

Textbook 'in the big city' sequel that treads largely the same ground as its predecessor, replacing the trees and bushes with concrete and steel, guerilla soldiers with drug gangs and the lumpy '80s comic-book heroics of the first film with cynicism and satire. Despite being at times a virtual remake, Predator 2 still manages to entertain thanks to the combined efforts of the constantly-perspiring Danny Glover and the shark-like Gary Busey, and the wise retention of the violence, action, humour and ethnic stereotyping that made the original such a classic. Decent effects, music and direction help paper over the cracks and just about keep the audience interested as they wait for the characters to discover all the things everybody who saw the first film already knows. A few good ideas and some welcome expansion of the Predator's culture and technology add to the appeal, but the overall similarity, plus a confused and rambling climax detract from a decent but not spe...

Perhaps realising the terminal limitations of the "Die Hard in a ___" formula, brought all the closer to parody by Seagal et al, the third film in the series dispenses with the claustrophobic, cat and mouse of the first films and instead splashes its violent, acerbic paint over a much wider canvas. Adapted from a script called SIMON SAYS, at one point a Brandon Lee vehicle then later considered as the next LETHAL WEAPON, the film sees John McClane team up with Samuel L Jackson, again playing himself, as a zany mismatched couple attempting to foil the efforts of a grudge-bearing sadistic Euro-terrorist, wrought laughably camp by the constantly vest-clad Jeremy Irons. A satisfying balance and zinging dialogue between the two leads, plus plenty of clever action and moments of shocking violence keep the interest initially high, although the film fails to sustain it throughout, especially once the villain's plan is revealed as almost an exact retread of the first film'...

Spirited if misguided attempt at improving the original by ramping up the action, threat and scope of the story, destroying in the process much of what made the first one great. A film clearly far too ambitious for the writers and directors who worked on it, Die Hard 2 is sprawling, aimless and full of hundreds of screeching unsympathetic minor characters. This time we find Detective John McClane battling a confused mix of military, mercanery and drug lord against the admittedly atmospheric background of a Christmas-time Dulles International Airport. The tense stand-offs of the first film are replaced with countless nonsensical overlong gun battles, the unique locations with huts and tunnels and the charasmatic villains with silly action figures. A few clever moments and pretty snowscapes raise the film now and then, but it's never more than a minute or two away from its noisy, clumsy roots.

Guaranteed to disappoint those looking for an explanation to David Lynch and Mark Frost's confused, troubled and fitfully brilliant television series, Fire Walk With Me is Twin Peaks distilled; a return to the heart of the series. With few revelations, the power and interest comes instead from the chance to see the feral Sheryl Lee's Laura Palmer vividly interacting with a cast that could previously only mourn her. The high points surely Laura's interactions with her father, the possessed Leland Palmer, portayed brilliantly and frighteningly by Ray Wise. These moments are genuinely disturbing, casting off the shackles of TV censorship to lay bare the true nature of their twisted relationship, following it through to its terrible climax. Fans of special agent Dale Cooper may be saddened by his minimal screen time, likewise fans of the television series' quirky humour and whimsy may feel left out. However this shift in tone focuses on the core of the story, and the ...

Confused, rambling cod-epic that severely overstays its welcome. Despite plenty of pre-CGI visual effects, making clever use of stop-motion, green-screen and reverse photography, as well as a rousing, darkly European soundtrack, the film is viciously staked through the heart by its terrible lead actors, awkward attempts at humour and the stubborn focus on the lumpen-headed, deeply uninteresting love story.

Cowardly, simpering third remake of the perennial sci-fi classic, by far the least engaging, least interesting of the four Bodysnatcher films. A pointless, porcelain Nicole Kidman stars as an indestructible super-mum, battling to save her MacGuffin son from waves of soulless alien 'pod' people, who this time round have foregone the iconic giant seed pods and instead prefer to transform their victims by means of a liquid (and sometimes projectile-vomited) virus. Clearly uncomfortable with the original concept's inherent slow pace and talkiness, this film reveals the alien's ploy halfway through, devoting the rest of the time to protracted car chases and tedious gunplay. Some clever minor details, and an effective if predictable framing of today's political climate add some interest, but are undone by gratuitous product placement, yet more 28 Days Later-style running zombie crowds, globs of conveniently-delivered idiot pseudo-science and the ultimate cardinal si...

Worthy sequel (actually prequel) to the magnificent "Raiders of the Lost Ark", containing all the ridiculous fisticuffs, quips, traps and globetrotting peril that one could ask for. While it never manages to top the impossibly bravura opening sequence, "Temple of Doom" is constantly thrilling and fluidly scripted, with seldom a drag in the action. Even teaming Indy up with both a precocious brat and prima-donna singer (Kate Capshaw, managing to be simultaneously incredibly irritating and hugely attractive) can't harm this punchy, sassy thrill-ride. However it's still a sequel and the shadow of the original hangs over it throughout. It's not as funny or as clever and the music is not as good. Even the settings simply can't match up to the perfectly-chosen locales of the original film. And although the action is consistently first class, the concepts are far weaker. With a child co-star, child villain and the kidnapped children subplot, it's ...

Wonderfully overwrought slice of 1970s British supernatural horror, with a fine cast, grand central conceit and the courage and conviction to see things through to the very end, in a most grisy, satisfying fashion. John Morlar (played with bitter relish by the late Richard Burton) is a man who in his own words has "the power to create catastrophe." He can will things to happen; cause disease and disaster at a whim, and end the lives of anyone who wrongs him. Is his power telekinesis? Demonic possession? An incredible series of coincedences? The film opens with Morlar's attempted murder at the hands of an unknown assailant. As his attack is investigated, by Inspector Brunel, played by Lino Ventura as a kind of anti-Clouseau, the inspector's investigations lead him to Morlar's journals, and then to his psychiatrist and slowly he begins to understand the precise magnitude of the events unfolding around him. With Morlar hospitalised throughout, his character is ...

Superman is one of the strongest, fastest and most invulnerable fictional characters ever, and to make a boring story about him is in itself a superhuman feat. Nonetheless this is exactly what director Bryan Singer and friends have done with "Superman Returns", a sequel/remake/reboot soup made from stock of Richards Donner and Lester's originals, twenty years before. Beginning with Superman's return to Earth after a five-year space absence, any hopes that the film will attempt to deal with the notion of a world without its god-like boy scout protector are jettisoned instantly, not even mentioned, the film preferring to plough straight on with ineffectual love pentagons between clothes-model leads, and Lex Luthor (Kevin Spacey, mildly entertaining) embarking on a seemingly factory-generated evil plot. Who'd have thought it? Strangely, Superman seldom appears in his own film, almost as if the writers didn't know what to do with him, apart from a few brief re...

300 is hopefully the purest distillation of that 21st century cinema spectacle, the "CGI armies colliding" film that filmgoers will ever see. Lovingly recreating Frank Miller's not-particularly historical comic, Zack Snyder has delivered a quite hysterically over-the-top and ludicrously macho piece of celluloid gristle. Let it be said, there are no characters in this film whatsoever. There is a beard. There are a couple of hundred six-packs, some breasts and some black skin. These items roll around on screen in assorted combinations for two hours and then it's over. What have we learned at the end? God knows. That a warrior race which kills imperfect newborn babies and feeds its young to hungry wolves can champion logic, learning, female empowerment, enlightenment, free will and numerous exciting sexual positions, apparently. Even without thinking about things, 300 is a drag. The action centres upon the titanic Persian army and its repeated attempts to break the S...

Taking the timeless cultural meme of the wordless martial arts protagonist to its logical conclusion, CHOCOLATE is a Thai kickboxing film centring around Zen, the daughter of a crime boss and a gang enforcer. Zen is autistic, withdrawn and as luck would have it gifted with incredible senses of hearing and spacial awareness. Growing up living opposite a Muay Thai training school, when her mother becomes ill she and her brother decide to try and call in some of mum's past gangland debts to pay for her medicine. CHOCOLATE is somewhat postmodern as far as martial arts movies go. At several points, clips of ONG BAK appear on television, while Zen's first fight sees her whooping and wailing a la Bruce Lee and the credits even have a Jackie Chan-esque outtake reel running behind them. It wears its influences on its torn and tattered sleeve. But it's still a martial arts movie through and through. The main character and sidekick run into a series of elaborate brawls in acroba...