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Acknowledging the generic nature of your film is one thing, but it's only a half-step towards avoiding being generic at all. For all its off-the-wall innovation, "Deadpool" is still a perfect fit for the Marvel movie mould: take a wise-cracking superhero with a helpless sexualised love interest, a 2-dimensional "British" villain, and an assortment of bizarre sidekicks, and sprinkle with explosions. Spelling this template out in the wacky opening credits is not defence enough against its conformism.

"Deadpool" attempts to subvert long-established Marvel standards through breaking the 4th wall - a technique which loses its potency in constantly occurring, seemingly more often than actual dialogue - and its absurd jokes. This at least is a success - irreverence piles up as sexual abuse victims, drug addicts and cancer sufferers are all thrown under the bus in the name of Offbeat Humour. Nonetheless, inevitable cringe-inducing superhero epigrams make appearances too. Pop-culture referencing is another tenet of Marvel films and this manifests itself abundantly, to the delight of Marvel aficionados in the audience. Superhero films have always cornered the market in special-FX budgets and cinematography, and "Deadpool" is no exception: the action sequences really are breathtaking, the violence fortuitous. The aberrant 15-rated certificate is made full use of with F-bombs and gory lacerations littered like bullet casings throughout.

Even though it punches above the level of previous Marvel features, "Deadpool" still suffers from the usual pitfalls of plot holes, predictable story arcs, poor emotional pacing, and stock characters. What redeems it is its superior sense of humour, irreverent tone, and subtle boundary-pushing in the form of 4th-wall-breaks and gratuitous violence.

The most indie-esque film to come out of the '70s that I have seen, "Harold and Maude" wallows in irreverence. Suicide is played around with as a theme - never trivialised, but used frequently as a source of dark humour. The unlikely relationship between the titular characters is remarkably sweet and loving, if a little rushed, and the jaunty folk soundtrack uplifts the mood despite the heavy themes. The script is superlative, counterbalancing all the incidents of gore; the film almost comes across as a pre-emptive "Breakfast Club" for the "Fight Club" generation. Desperation and listlessness weighs Harold down, until Maude lightens his existence by showing him how to live for once. Her bubbly persona is the yang to his yin, and the film's quirky comedy cheers the audience as well as Harold with its subtlety. A true unexpected pleasure, "Harold and Maude" is surprising and charming throughout, with enough dark substance to mark it out as truly unique.

"Stoker" is as weird as a film can get without being classed as art- cinema. As someone who relishes dark plot lines and creepy twists, I wasn't put off by the premise, i.e. a young girl's feelings for her enigmatic uncle in the aftermath of her father's death. "Stoker" embodies a very Gothic style thanks to the brooding country house, dark clothing and macabre subject matter.

The cinematography and symbolism were evidently the director's main focus: obscure camera angles capture close-ups of shoes, belts, faces, all fraught with symbolism. The plot itself, although original, is not the stand-out characteristic, being marginally too predictable and sensationalised. That said, there were several small events which I didn't anticipate, which added to the tense atmosphere of the claustrophobic house. Small, insignificant sounds are heightened in the film, both to imply India's ability to notice things that others don't, and to imply the tiny peculiarities of the Stoker family. It's this attention to minute detail which makes the film stand out above similar films.

The music is at once sweeping and minimal, reflecting the sinister atmosphere. Were it not for the use of cell phones, it would be hard to place "Stoker" in a specific time zone - the Gothic atmosphere and the house's isolation mean that it could even be set within the frame of Grant Wood's "American Gothic" painting. The film is effective in making subtle jibes at American culture, from mid-US suburbia to high school chauvinism.

The effectiveness of "Stoker" relies on its under-the-surface creepiness, and the wondrous performances of all 3 main actors portray it perfectly. Nicole Kidman is the bereaved, neurotic typical mother; Mia Wasikowska the morbid introverted teenage weirdo; and Matthew Goode the charming but mysterious and unknown uncle; all 3 are hiding dark internal thoughts which are revealed as the story unfolds.

Despite some predictability in the plot, "Stoker" remains a dark and atmospheric drama film with an undeniable subtlety of tone.

"The Lobster" takes the tropes and expectations of modern-day relationships and satirises them almost out of existence. The farcical "Hotel" aims to partner 'loner' humans with each other (based on 1 characteristic) in a stress-inducing timeframe of 45 days, often resulting in deception and the suppression of true feelings in order to garner a relationship as a means of escape. The other side of the coin is the outcast tribe living a meagre existence in the woods, where even flirting is punished with physical mutilation. The cold mechanical delivery of every single character's lines emphasises the absurdity of the situation, and bizarrely makes the jokes even funnier. Not since Richard Ayoade's "The Double" has cripplingly awkward humour been so effective. This film has a lot to say about the fickle nature of relationships, set against the background of a dystopian society. The cinematography is as flat as the actors' delivery; this contributes to the emotionally-stunted, often silent world that the characters inhabit. The ending is beautifully ambiguous and surprisingly tense for such an understated scene. A score which fluctuates from terse, rough string melodies to Italian opera heightens the sense of weird-art-film which pervades "The Lobster": definitely a film which requires full attention, reflection, and a mind open to arty weirdness, "The Lobster" is a remarkable oddity.

Although stylistically brilliant, Macbeth does little to propel itself beyond the simple label of a good adaption. The swooping cinematography, extreme close-ups and arty use of colour and smoke are visually stunning and the best aspects of the film. The acting is sublime too, with Marion Cotillard playing a typically evil Lady Macbeth and Michael Fassbender portraying Macbeth's dark character arc with vigour and intensity. There is not a bad acting performance in the film - equally impressive is the rugged moorland scenery of Scotland, reflecting the bleak tale. Thankfully the original dialogue is used, although rough accents at times obscure the language, whole scenes are omitted and the Shakespearean words are difficult to follow. Unfortunately this is enhanced by the pacing, as the story seems to develop extremely slowly, causing me to feel lethargic and lose patience with the ancient dialogue.

Layers of mud and warpaint mask the character's faces, making it difficult to tell one war-wearied Scotsman from another; and there is the ghost of a young man who appears, throat slit, at tense moments for no apparent reason. The music, although scant, is sorrowful and emotive at the right moments. Naturally, the story of Macbeth is centuries old - but the success of recent medieval-period shows/films (Game of Thrones, Lord of the Rings) makes me feel that this adaptation lacks innovation in its narrative and use of bloody violence.

Macbeth's high-brow technical aspects (intricate camera-work, masterful set-piece layouts, and use of colour) elevate it slightly beyond an average adaptation. However, if the number of people who walked out of the cinema is anything to go by, it is more of a critical success than a public one.

Bleak independent drama "Calvary" is an open-ended morality tale covering numerous themes. Father James Lavelle is an ageing Catholic priest, forced to confront the harsh realities of the world such as a death threat, disquiet among his parishioners and a disintegrating home life. The world no longer seems the same to him; darkness, wavering faith and sin can be found hidden in everyone, including himself, and he struggles to maintain his composure in the week he has been given to live. Brendan Gleeson provides the perfect portrayal of the Catholic priest - black-robed and courteous, he is a metaphorical tower of righteousness looming over his petty, demeaning churchgoers. The supporting cast is superb, portraying the fractured community with subtle venom. Understandably, religion is a significant theme in the events that unfold, but is by no means the only topic bridged within the film. Death, murder and violence, coping with loss, relationships, and confidentiality all form part of the thoughtful undertones which make the script so sublime. These profound themes are complimented by a minimal orchestral score, highly effective lighting and basic yet serene cinematography. The rugged Irish landscape demands more awe than the flat camera angles and technical elements, contributing further to the creation of an isolated and troubled little world. The inclusion of heavy themes doesn't weigh the film down - the tiny Irish community is well-crafted enough that all the arguments and revelations play out in a realistic (if bleak) fashion, and the drama could not be paced more perfectly. There are understated deadpan jokes scattered throughout the film: not enough humour to undermine the subject matter, but just enough to gently lighten the tone or, in some cases, embellish the dark themes even further with dark gallows humour. The script of "Calvary" could win a literary prize if published as a novel; it is a film which both deserves and demands multiple viewings in order to appreciate it fully. Although not an easy film to watch, it shouldn't be dismissed for its profundity and darkness but instead revered as a landmark thoughtful film, undeniably one of the best of the year.

When watching a black and white film in the modern day it's easy to overlook subtle aspects which would've made it stand out for its time. "The 39 Steps" has all the hallmarks of a classic Hitchcock escapade with the addition of some of the most innovative cinematography ever. The smooth panning, cut-away shots, and smart camera angles are techniques which are revered even today; Hitchcock made the most of the sterile B&W format by prioritising cinematography to create a tense, gripping story. The main flaw with this adaptation is its divergence from the book - several significant points, such as the nature of the 39 steps and the inclusion of a female lead (Madeleine Carroll), were altered to make the film more exciting. If - like me - you haven't read the book, however, this isn't an impediment to the story at all. Surprisingly for an early film, the pace of the narrative is exactly right, never once moving too quickly (as many short 30s films have a tendency to do). Comic elements are blended seamlessly with tense sequences, emphasising Hanney's peril rather than undermining it. A strong sense of realism pervades the action, making the story even more beguiling. All the acting performances are sublime, but the real star of the film is the Scottish Highland backdrop, bleak and beautiful even in black and white. A sparse yet emotive score builds tension at key points; the dialogue is as sharp as in any Hitchcock thriller.

The ultimate test of a classic film is if it can still be as entertaining as it was on its day of release, and "The 39 Steps" fulfils that category perfectly. It remains an excellent, amusing thriller which twists and turns right to the end, and will hopefully continue to delight audiences throughout the ages.

"22 Jump Street" achieves the highest praise a sequel can get, by being as good a film as the original. It succeeds in a different way: the good-natured action spoofing of the first film becomes the subject of knowing scorn towards sequels in general. It's not essential to watch "21" before "22", but a huge amount of its metahumour revolves around direct jokes and subtler references to the first film (and the original TV series). The action is in full swing, this time centered around all aspects of college from the manly fraternities to the beatnik art crowd. The (partially improvised) script is still hilarious; Ice Cube's irate police captain plays a bigger role in the proceedings, creating opportunities for many jokes about NWA. Both character development and plot deliberately follow exactly the same arc as before, presumably to poke more fun in the direction of sequels the world over. Technical achievements in this film are not pronounced, although they are uncommon in this genre of film - the music, lighting, editing and cinematography are all standard quality. The charisma of both Jonah Hill and Channing Tatum, along with their bromance and banter, is the main saving grace of the "22 Jump Street". It's not a cinematic marvel, but for absurd action fun and witty metahumour raillery you can't do better than "22 Jump Street".

Sticking closely to American high-school-movie tropes while simultaneously mocking them is one of the most salient triumphs of "21 Jump Street". Stoner humour is prevalent, swear words are numerous and lashings of typical US slapstick are shovelled in. By making two loser cops graduate high school again, "21 Jump Street" satirises the teen-scene film movement: Jenko and Schmidt have the ability to relive (respectively) the best and worst years of their lives, an opportunity which many would secretly relish. The interest in high-school movies throughout the 80's, provoked by a vicarious yearning to be cool or do things differently, is picked apart here as they realise that everything they knew about high school has changed. The athletic layabouts have been superseded in popularity by intelligent, sensitive and environmentally-conscious teenagers, much to Schmidt's delight and Jenko's chagrin. Their struggle to be accepted becomes more and more consuming as they begin to get distracted from their undercover mission, although any serious moments are often overlooked in favour of easy laughs. The film makes no secret of stupidity – the idiocy of the protagonists is exploited for full comedic effect as their bumbling Inspector Clouseau-esque investigations lead them, more by accident than design, to discover the distributors of high-school drugs in the wafer-thin plot. The shallow genre-mockery would be easily missed by the casual viewer, were it not for one of the best credits sequences I have ever seen: explosions, women's silhouettes and American flags cloak the screen behind a set of polished-metal acting credits in a flagrant action-blockbuster spoof. Self-mockery, showy cinematography and a poor (yet extremely quotable) script render "Jump Street" the "Hot Fuzz" of American comedies, albeit without the cult following.

Music in the film is used primarily to add to the comedy, and although all actors are strong in their roles, there is a sense of tired cliché in the characters of Jonah Hill's awkward geek and Channing Tatum's brooding dullard jock. However, as a reboot of a long-forgotten TV serial, it stays true to its roots – references to the original series pop up in all forms, including the cameos of original actor Johnny Depp, even if most of the allusions would be overlooked by viewers unfamiliar with the series.

There is more to "21 Jump Street" than meets the eye, but not a lot more. Its stand-out qualities are the subtle mocking of asinine blockbuster action-comedies, and the exploitation of the "ideal high-school experience" story concept. Other than this, the film is simply an enjoyable romp full of unpredictable violence and cringe- worthy awkward moments – and it is truly funny.

A foundation on fairly deep themes (reactions caused by different emotions, the difficult of moving across the country, growing up) and plenty of more grown-up jokes make "Inside Out" a successful film in its own right. Bizarrely, where it falls down is its accessibility to children. Riley's age (11) and the everyday situations she experiences should make her story relatable, yet the introspective focus on her emotions' decision-making turns the film into a more profound reflection on human nature. Pixar have developed a reputation as a thoughtful alternative to Disney animation; debatably this is the first occasion of their parent-friendly children's films which will be more favoured by adults than youngsters. Don't get me wrong - "Inside Out" is a very well-thought-out, cleverly crafted and enjoyable film, it's just that it may go over the heads of the majority of the target audience.

The animation is average by animated-film standards, with bright colours and glows to amuse kids but enough darkness in parts to accurately reflect parts of the human mind. The music is of a similar standard, effective and subtle whilst not being outstanding. What really makes "Inside Out" an excellent film is its themes and messages. Many kids' films previously - notably Pixar works - have tried to identify with children's minds and thought processes, so it's no surprise that the most effective one I've seen is set entirely within preteen Riley's mind. The notion that sadness and other seemingly unhelpful feelings are actual useful is an important sentiment to get across to children, and this film accomplishes effectively while avoiding being "preachy" or cliché. The short foray into her parents' emotions is one of the more inspired "adult- targeted" jokes, revealing the subtle emotional differences between genders, and between adults and children.

Overall, the film was extremely enjoyable and deserves multiple watches; there were enough jokes to lighten the heavy subject matter and the sparkling voice acting from all of Riley's personified emotions brightened up the script too. "Inside Out"'s slightly ambivalent tone should make for interesting differences between adult and child opinions of the film.

"Pan's Labyrinth" could easily be mistaken for a children's story, if it wasn't for the dark undertones which permeate throughout. Up until Captain Vidal's first brutal act of violence, the film feels like a morose kids' film, similar to (for example) "A Series of Unfortunate Events". This sense of innocence and wonder formulates a unique atmosphere and a narrative which is strung parallel between a grotesque folklore fairy tale and the gritty real events of 1940s Spain.

The Spanish dialogue doesn't hinder the pace of the storytelling - in fact the foreign language increases the fairy-tale feeling within the film. The atmospheric orchestral score contributes to the ominousness, emphasising the darkness of both worlds. Although Ofelia's tasks are terrifying and mysterious, monsters are exposed too amongst the background of war-torn Spain; the oppressive Captain is a hellish stepfather with his power complex and unhealthy fixation on honour and death. The stark storyline is mirrored in the cold blue and yellow tones of the scenes.

Disbelief has to be suspended for the mythical creatures and otherworldly realms, although there is the subtle possibility that the fantasy world is a figment of the imagination. In this, del Toro descends a little into the cliché of a magical world open only to imaginative youngsters; yet this conclusion is left open to interpretation, as are the various fables and bedside stories mentioned symbolically throughout.

"Pan's Labyrinth" is hard-hitting. No part of it is easy watching, from the violence of the Civil War to the fortuitous gore and the heart-in-mouth suspense of many "other-world" scenes (notably the lair of the horrifying Pale Man). Don't make the mistake of writing it off as a children's film, for it achieves that rare balance of creating a gripping dark story with a measure of innocence added by the perspective of a child - it is also far too scary for youngsters! However, the heavy themes don't weight it down, thanks to astounding acting from the actress who plays Ofelia and the comparatively "escapist" mystery of the magical fairy realm.

It would be easily to label Drive's limited script and space-laden scenes as boring, but reducing the often unrealistic chatter allows the audience to focus on the visible chemistry and longing between Irene (Carey Mulligan) and the Driver. It also serves to add to the air of mystery surrounding the nameless Driver. In terms of plot, the film has much in common with other escalating "vengeance" thrillers. There is - despite the title and subject matter - very little in terms of car chases, which may surprise viewers simply searching for an action blockbuster. The gratuitous graphic-novel style violence is often sudden and shocking, in contrast to the leisurely pace of the film and beautiful day-and-night vistas of Los Angeles. The use of space is one of the elements that marks the film out as more than a slick action flick, along with its highly-stylised text and colour palette. A trademark of cinematography is noticeable: the characters are rarely portrayed directly in the centre of the camera. This deliberate attention to detail elevates Drive into the realm of arty action films. The use of music is admirable - an 80s-inspired soundtrack is used sparsely to emphasise certain (often tense) moments, also allowing the film to float anachronistically in an unspecified time period (the makes of car and lack of visible technology leave the setting of the film as vague and mysterious as the main character). Music often flows between diegetic and non-diegetic, weaving between what the Driver can hear and what the audience is caused to feel, enabling the audience to identify more with the silent character's mood and emotions. The diminishing mood is expressed through ever-darkening lighting and subtle mise-en-scene portraying the Driver's descent into a bleak, harsh criminal world. The film's successfully minimalist soundtrack and arty cinematography, along with its use of space, make it stand out as a uniquely cult genre-defying film, reveling in influences from neo- noir to grindhouse to fairy tales.

Simply put, Joe Wright's adaption of "Anna Karenina" is the best period drama I've ever seen. It displays unique, original directing, from the enjoyable theatre-style perspective to the simple yet emotive denouement. Its story is understandably intricate and intelligent (Tolstoy) and every single actor/actress contributes to a highly believable tale, even for most viewers who won't be acquainted with 19th century Russia. The film's unique attraction is its superb set design: each scene is crafted as if on a theatre stage, complete with freeze-frame tableaux, moving scenery partitions and a fourth-wall-breaking above-stage vantage point. The cinematography similarly contributes to the immersive experience using swooping cameras and intricate angles and editing. This original perspective elevates "Anna Karenina" above other tedious costume dramas.

Keira Knightley portrays the eponymous character's development subtly yet effectively, alongside Aaron Taylor-Johnson's rather emotionless interpretation of Count Vronsky. A beautiful orchestral score (resplendent with authentic Russian folk song instrumentals) grounds the film in its historic setting whilst creating a powerful atmosphere. There is the use of powerful symbolism and foreshadowing throughout - though I can't elaborate without giving too much away! Costumes and set design are understandably impressive given the film's genre. The only questionable element is the facial hair sported by almost every male cast member (probably thanks to the aristocratic Russian setting).

At times, the plot thickens to the point of requiring more than casual attention - in part due to each character's colourful name - but a complex plot is (in my opinion) something to be treasured not vilified. There is a tendency to despair at characters' selfish and thoughtless actions, although that is the nature of Tolstoy's tale. All in all, "Anna Karenina" is remarkable thanks to high-calibre acting, a surprisingly effective theatrical premise, and the combination of set design, cinematography and production which craft an unforgettable atmosphere and story.

Whiplash is an authentic, well-acted and well-directed drama, definitely worth a watch - although a margin too much on the conventional drama side to rank highly amongst other music-based dramas.

Despite being hugely focused on Andrew Neiman (the young drummer) and Terence Fletcher (his music coach), the plot rarely feels slow; however there were instances of Andrew's stubbornness simply seeming unbelievable, in the face of Simmons' face-slapping, emotionally abusive maestro.

Cinematography is an element which stands out above the rest in Whiplash, with neat editing and many subtle shots of cymbals slick with sweat or blood. Indeed Miles Teller provided all of the bodily fluids on the drum kit, playing all his own drum parts in a superb performance that deserves recognition. Lighting plays an important part in the mood of the film, as does the music. An original score composed mostly of the diegetic jazz instrumentals oils the parts of otherwise bumpy scenes, and enforces the idea that jazz is Andrew's life, his world.

One downside of the script itself is that it tries a little to hard to introduce comedy, in the form of Fletcher's hilariously abusive tirades. Attempting to make us laugh at a half-crazed fiend of a conductor only serves to cheapen the drama (admittedly without losing any of the tension).

The denouement is surprisingly satisfying for such an open ending. Below everything, though, is the realisation that Fletcher's tyranny won out in the end, tricking Andrew's arrogance and ambition into making him surprise his former mentor on stage.

There are dark themes within - the parallels between Andrew and the shadow of trumpeter Sean Casey's demise are slight but noticeable (note the idea of a car crash, and precocious young talent), and yet they divide at the end, with Andrew's resilience permitting him to exhibit his talents instead of caving in to Fletcher's abuse. The suggestion that Andrew's driven and alienating ambition leaves the audience with a feeling of triumph highlights a refreshingly original alternative to a softer ending, i.e. giving up drumming for the sake of friendship and women. His relationship with his father is an interesting one: although they're close, Andrew's refusal to "come home" with him after his initial embarrassment may symbolise the way in which he is moving apart from his dad and becoming a braver, riskier man in his own right.

A strong, original plot, superb acting and heavy themes make this action/sci-fi movie an understated classic.

Interlinking motifs like the ticking clocks stitch the film together; the soundtrack is brooding and effective despite its minimalism. Camera shots and angles show little variation, but the clever script and darkened colour palette carry each scene smoothly and quickly. The parallels drawn between Joe and Cid are subtle, but clear on a second watch: the Older Joe's bloodied face, the stroke of hair at Joe's temple, the backstory of an angry child - isolated from his mother - doomed to cause havoc if his path isn't altered by kindness. This contributes powerfully to the idea of karma in the film, as a never- ending circle of events. There are a myriad of references and recurrences, like the arrogant Kid Blue's perpetual injuries and anger within each of the cycles of Joe's life. Joseph Gordon-Levitt seems to represent the arrogance of youth; the cafe scene belays the way he thinks of his life as his own to live as he chooses - despite the evidence of his future self in front of him. Bruce Willis embodies a weary older self, shaken by the death of a woman who cared for him so deeply and driven to change the past in order to save her.

The violence is bloody, but minimal and necessary (disregarding Bruce Willis' final killing spree to tie up the loose plot ends of the Gat Men gang). Excellent performances all round, specifically Emily Blunt (grounded but emotional as Sara), Bruce Willis (a hardened, yet surprisingly tender Older Joe) and Pierce Gagnon (otherworldly and ominous as the mature-beyond-his-years Cid), give the film a depth beyond its action-blockbuster advertising.