It’s taken quite a while to get Bernie to the UK. It’s almost a year since its US debut and a few months after it flirted the edges of the awards ceremonies, such as Jack Black being nominated for a Golden Globe. Now it’s here though, but has it been worth the wait?

The film is based on the true story of Bernie Tiede (Black), a quiet, God-fearing, possible gay mortician in a small Texas town. Popular with the locals due to his unfailing kindness, he manages to strike up a friendship with aging rich widow Marjorie Nugent, a woman most people think is mean and thoroughly unpleasant.

She becomes increasingly close to Bernie, allowing him to share her life of expensive travel and culture, but monopolising his time and becoming increasingly abusive and controlling, until it gets to the point where she demands he does whatever she wants, whenever she wants. While Bernie continues to defend Marjorie to the outside world, he finds it increasingly difficult to take her smothering mistreatment – until he snaps and kills her.

Bernie is an unusual film that’s made almost in the style of a docu-drama. It’s full of talking-head style interviews, although quite how much is true and how much isn’t is muddied by the fact that some of the interviewees are real residents of Carthage, Texas, while others are actors playing real people. It does help to give the film an air of (rather one-sided) authenticity, allowing director Richard Linklater to explore the small town life of his home state while also telling a fascinating and strange true story, even if it ultimately confuses how much we should trust what we’re told.

The whole thing could very easily have come unstuck, particularly as the script seems slightly unsure of itself, but it’s pulled together by Linklater’s sympathetic and thankfully restrained direction, a fun turn from Matthew McConaughey as a showboating prosecutor and a smart, nuanced, rather sweet performance from Jack Black. Indeed, he’s perhaps a little too successful, as it’s only as the credits role that you realise this is a film resolutely on the side of a man who shot a little old lady in the back four times, and pretty much ignores any evidence that perhaps he wasn’t just a sweet guy pushed past his limit.

However it you don’t mind that moral ambiguity, it’s entertaining, often pretty funny and sometimes surprisingly moving. I’m not convinced the talking-head idea fully works, as it confuses the line between fact and fiction more than truly being illuminating, but it certainly provides a few funny moments.

I also found it interesting how the film handles Bernie’s sexuality, as it doesn’t shy away from the fact that many thought he was gay, but it never comes to any conclusions about it. That’s seemingly part of its one-sided nature, as at Bernie’s murder trial the prosecution supposedly uncovered evidence that he’d given gifts to men after he’d killed Marjorie, using her money. That isn’t exactly sympathetic and doesn’t get mentioned in the movie, instead sticking to people suggesting they thought he was celibate or merely slightly effeminate.

The one-sided nature isn’t just the film’s though, as it’s the fact that everyone liked Bernie even after they discovered what he’d done, that’s one of the main themes of the movie and one of the impetuses behind making it in the first place. Indeed the murder is an incredibly rare case where the murder trial was moved out of the jurisdiction where it took place, because the prosecution was worried there wouldn’t be a fair trial, simply because everyone knew Bernie and thought he was such a great chap (normally it’s the other way around, where the local populace is so angry and primed to convict that a trial gets moved).

Overall Verdict: Oddly sweet and surprisingly funny for a true-life tale about the murder of a little old lady. Not everything about Bernie works, but enough does succeed that it’s entertaining and worth watching, especially if you want proof Jack Black can be a pretty good actor if he puts his mind to it.

Reviewer: Tim Isaac

When it was announced that Steve Coogan was to play king of porn Paul Raymond it seemed like the perfect casting – and with Coogan’s old pal Michael Winterbottom at the helm it had fans licking their moist lips.

So it’s with a heavy heart and genuine sense of regret to announce this is such a disappointment. It tells the story of Raymond’s conquering of Soho adequately enough, but what’s missing is any insight or inner life in any of the characters. Coogan inhabits Raymond to an impressive degree, but there is absolutely no sense of what’s behind the sunglasses and fur coat – what drove a lad from Liverpool to become king of porn? It’s a film financed by Film4, and sadly has all the hallmarks of a TV biopic – with lots of tits and bare bums thrown in. It’s tempting to say the biggest boob is the script and the biggest arse is the man who directed it.

For those who don’t know Raymond’s story, it winds back to the 1970s when Raymond, already the owner of several theatres in Soho – how we don’t know – is putting on burlesque cabaret acts which become more and more risqué. He meets his wife Jean, played with dead eyes by Anna Friel, makes a lot of money, they buys a house in Wimbledon and a roller, and have kids. Raymond is in particular devoted to his daughter Debbie.

There then follows the usual story of highs and lows – Paul has affairs, divorces Jean, marries Fiona Richmond, buys Men Only, discovers drugs, gets busted, bounces back, has more affairs, takes more drugs – and so on and so on. Eventually he trains Debbie as his protégé, after she suffers a series of disastrous setbacks trying to be a stage performer all financed by Daddy. She realises she will never be a star, especially after one especially bad show, so throws herself into his business – and his drug habit, which he seems perfectly happy about.

When Debbie meets her perfect man all seems ok again, but the demon coke is never far away, and eventually proves her downfall. He ploughs on until eventually meeting his maker, giving his enormous fortune to his grandchildren.

What’s so disappointing in all this is there is so much talent on display, but put to so little use. Coogan is great as Raymond, sleazy but charming, tough but vulnerable, always good copy for the many journalists following his story. Yet there is no insight into what is his underlying motivation. He utters the line “not bad for a lad from Liverpool with five bob in his pocket” not once but twice, but how – and more importantly why – did he do it? Why does Jean put up with his many affairs but finally crack when he meets Richmond? What does she get out of it?

Even weirder is Raymond’s own relationship with sex. He consistently denies that his magazine empire is pornography – even in private – and seems uneasy with threesomes, even when he initiates them. Is he driven by sex or love? What are at the basis of his relationship with Men Only editor Tony Power (Addison, annoying)? Why does he suddenly have an attack of modesty when Power starts talking about “tits and arse”? None of these problems or issues is ever addressed, let alone resolved. The film is happier telling the story in chronological order, which it does – but so what?

Far too often the film falls into stereotypes. David Walliams does his Frankie Howerd impression for about the fifth film in a row – only one of which was actually about Howerd – Matt Lucas is wasted as Divine, Anna Friel as brittle as ever, and Tamsin Egerton nowhere near tough enough to convince as Richmond. None of that would particularly matter if the script and structure had a bit more life to it, but sadly it doesn’t. One scene, where Raymond meets his estranged son, now an adult, for a sad, uncomfortable Sunday lunch, has some pathos, and when the son leaves the building and spots Raymond’s wife – younger than him – there is a genuine moment of sadness. But it’s all too little too late.

Even when Debbie reveals her fatal condition Winterbottom resorts to some truly cheesy music which completely undercuts what should be a tragic moment. It’s very difficult to feel any sympathy for the tragic girl.

Overall verdict: A missed opportunity. Winterbottom’s film tells the story of Paul Raymond’s life but explains and adds nothing to it. A weirdly empty, flat experience with just an engaging performance from Coogan to give it anything to recommend it.

Reviewer: Mike Martin

Five friends spend the weekend in an old cabin in the woods and inadvertently stumble upon a mysterious book. After reading aloud from the cursed text, the 20-something gang awaken the evil dead, which sets out to consume each and every one of them in the most disgusting way possible.

Though there’s certainly been a potent buzz during the built up and release of the remake of Sam Raimi’s seminal shoestring shocker, it’s difficult to understand why. Raimi’s horror track record hasn’t exactly been glowing during the past couple of decades, and as producer he’s been responsible for a slew of underwhelming and forgettable forays into the genre, from The Grudge remakes to The Messengers. And who is Fede Alvarez? The director of a mixed bag of short films and…that’s about it.

While the name Evil Dead mainly conjures up frenzied excitement with 30-something horror fans always happy to reminisce about the good old days of VHS, video nasties and stop animation gore, it’s also a name that’s been whispered down to the next generation or two, gaining infamy over the years as being that movie where a girl gets raped by a tree.

Add to Evil Dead’s notoriety a few choice quotes from critics and a touch of Cabin Fever red and yellow on the new film’s poster, and you’ve got enough to convince young audiences that the Evil Dead reboot is the horror second coming, and sure enough, the kids are gonna eat this up.

The Evil Dead remake is as violent as they come, with Alvarez unleashing a barrage of back-to-basics (minimal CGI) blood-and-guts horror where each wince-inducing act of depravity outdoes the one before it (with the aid of chainsaws, electric knives – the lot). And yet, while the film delivers on its promise of shocking violence and anything-goes debauchery, there’s very little beneath the bloody surface.

While the original film had, well, originality, and bucket loads of personality, this Evil Dead does not. It’s not funny, smart or self-aware, and with Cabin in the Woods still fresh in the mind, it even feels somewhat passé. With no smarts behind the screams, Evil Dead is as forgettable as any other remake of an iconic 80s horror, from Nightmare of Elm Street to Friday the 13th. The kids are prettier and the production’s glossier in these 21st century remakes, but the individuality and innovation that made the 80s originals classics in the first place is nowhere to be seen.

As nice as it is sometimes to see a guy repeatedly get shot in the face with a nail gun, sometimes it’s just not enough.

Overall Verdict: Bloody, violent, forgettable.

Reviewer: Lee Griffiths

To be honest The Place Beyond the Pines is not the most captivating title I’ve ever heard. It could have been a slow-burn indie film or a picnic documentary for all I knew. However, this film should not fly under anyone’s radar and could easily be one of the best and most riveting films you will watch all year.

This film starts off all about Luke, played brilliantly by Ryan Gosling, a stunt motorcycle rider in the circus. Touring around the country, Luke is back in this Schenectady (New York) town since his last circus tour over a year ago. He is visited by Romina (Eva Mendes) and we learn with Luke that Romina has had a child from when they last were together a year ago. Fully struck by this sudden realisation, Luke quits the circus and becomes determined to provide for his very young son. Already here the brilliance of the film begins to come through in the subtleties and nuances of the cast’s performances, and the overarching themes of fatherhood, abandonment and the effect this has on the generations of a family. Luke is clearly affected by the absence of his own father and becomes resolute to give his young boy what he never had.

Luke tries to accomplish this by working as a mechanic for Robin (Ben Mendelsohn) in his little backyard garage out in the woods. However Robin sees Luke’s incredible riding skills and confronts him with an idea to make some good money – robbing banks. This part of the film seems to be in the 1980’s/early 1990’s, and the banks in this small town do not seem to have the modern security we have all become used to. Luke is able to walk in, steal the money and ride off down the street, fast as lightning, into the back of Robin’s van where they then disappear into the woods. All works perfectly well until Luke gets a bit too greedy and gets cornered by the cops and comes face to face with Avery Cross (Bradley Cooper) a young cop who has only recently joined the force but is eager to prove himself. Their meeting has a massive impact on their lives as well as their families.

Unfortunately this is as much plot as I am going to reveal in this review as any more would ruin the first viewing of the film. The story is absolutely brilliant, and as previously mentioned, probably one of the best you’ll come across for a while. If you haven’t heard anything else about the plot of the film; try keeping it that way, as the twists and turns of the narrative will keep you on the edge of your seat. Although trying to relay all the complexities of the story after seeing the film has certainly been a challenge for me, at no point in the film did it seem hard to follow, or have loose ends that never resolved. Some of the highlights of the film are the numerous parallels created between various characters. Between Luke and Avery, Luke and his own Father, Avery and his own father, their own boys and how the place beyond the pines brings all their fates together.

In terms of production, the film ticks all the boxes; beautiful cinematography capturing both the beauty and isolation of the Pine forests of Schenectady and the detail in the characters performances. The soundtrack is equally good, with the music tying into the different decades the story takes place over. Writer and director Derek Cianfrance really pulled it all together and this really film makes for fantastic viewing. The rest of the cast do a really stellar job in bringing the story to life as well as keeping it feel wholly real.

Overall Verdict: Although this film may be criticised for being too long, all elements of the story are given their own room to breathe and grow and what came together in the end was a truly touching look into the lives of ordinary men and families and a look into how our actions can have a knock on effect for generations. A very highly recommended film.

Reviewer: Kevin Van Der Ham

After intriguing us all with Martha Marcy May Marlene as a producer, Antonio Campos turns director, with an equally unsettling, disturbing story that will live long in the mind.

Campos uses the star of that film, Brady Corbet, as his man character here, Simon. He’s a young American graduate who is taking some time out after a nasty split with Michelle, his girlfriend who we never see. He travels to Paris to stay with his cousin, and finds the French capital in winter the perfect place to lose himself in, with his broken French.

When Michelle stops replying to his emails and he tires of internet porn, he wanders the red light district, eventually becoming a client of Victoria (Mati Diop), a young escort. She is physically fragile, tiny, and emotionally vulnerable – she reveals she has a son from a brutal and short-lived marriage. When Simon is attacked by street thugs she takes him in, and they begin a tentative love affair.

When money becomes a problem Simon hatches a plan; she will film her encounters with married men and blackmail them for cash.

There’s only one flaw in this set-up – Simon is a compulsive liar and fantasist. Here’s where the film becomes intriguing – or infuriating, depending on your point of view. We never actually see Simon attacked by the thugs for example – did he do it to get Victoria’s sympathy> Almost every story he tells has at least two versions – is he staying in a hotel or with his cousin? Is he studying eye surgery or French Literature?

Sometimes it’s obvious Simon is lying. What is sure is that this is a portrayal of a boy with severe problems – a phone call to his mother ends up just being the word “mum” mumbled several times, and in a crucial sex scene he merely grunts, terrifying the girl.

The atmosphere of the piece is brilliantly done – Paris has never looked colder, bleaker and less inviting. There are no shots of the Eiffel Tower or Louvre here, just the grimy, graffiti-ridden backstreets and headache-inducing neon lamps of the underground. Simon is a dark character, literally so in his grey duffle coat and unshaven face, shambling around the city making up schemes with little empathy for the people around him. Victoria is a desperately sad character, her soulless nights in a dark, seedy club leaving her almost empty but with a shred of dignity left which Simon ruthlessly exploits.

Overall verdict: A dark noir mood piece with undercurrents of deep violence and tragedy. Not everyone will go with it but it’s a brave stab and it keeps the spell going for its running time until its cynical ending. Intriguing and infuriating in equal measure.

Reviewer Mike Martin

Directed by Yaron Zilberman? Surely that’s a mistake – Woody Allen made this, didn’t he? Is Zilberman a pseudonym for Allen?

Apparently not, but anyone walking into this silver-surfer film would be forgiven for thinking it’s Allen’s latest. Set in a snowy New York, with interiors all beautifully lit and very tasteful, along with exteriors of Central Park looking crystalline in the white frost, it’s got Allen’s influence all over it.

It’s also the latest in a string of films for grey-haired movie-goers – remember, the ones no-one thought existed until The King’s Speech, but apparently turn out in droves for the right product. This certainly fits that profile, but it you’re going to make a film for the wrinklies you have to throw the best actors at it. Best Exotic Marigold Hotel had a great cast for example, and here we get three masterly actors giving it their all.

Christopher Walken takes the lead as a cello player in a respected quartet. His wife has died, so all he has to keep him going is his group, and the prospect of playing one last big tour with them. However when he is diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease – about the worst thing for a cello player – he readjusts his sights. He wants to give one last concert in New York, Beethoven’s fiendishly difficult Opus 131, before his hands go completely.

When he announces this to his group it has devastating effects. Philip Seymour Hoffman and Catherine Keener are married, but he suddenly announced he is fed up with playing second violin, and wants to play the lead. She is not too supportive, and the cracks in their marriage start to show. Meanwhile Mary Ivanir (no, me neither), the actual lead violinist, has his eye on their daughter, also a musician (Imogen Poots, annoying frankly).

Just as things start to disintegrate completely Walken pulls them all together – will they perform one last time in his honour?

It’s a very safe, middle-class world here, with everyone living in gorgeous apartments, sipping wine or a latte in trendy bars and discussing their life’s woes. There isn’t a therapist’s chair in sight, there doesn’t need to be. However, the huge charm of the actors keeps the momentum going, and that’s a huge skill. Hoffman is his usual shambles of a man, dragging his big belly round central park and his resentments about his lack of talent with it. Keener is as watchable as ever, trying to keep her husband happy while realising he will never realise his talent and she might have wasted her years of touring at the expense of being a good mother.

Walken though is the real revelation, dispensing with his usual staring psycho routine and instead showing real vulnerability as a man stricken with an awful disease. In one scene his dead wife appears in front of him singing an aria – it takes an actor of real talent to pull that off without it seeming too cheesy, but Walken does it beautifully. His speech at the end during his last concert it genuinely moving.

It’s easy to pick holes in the movie, as there are many flaws – Poots’ irritating daughter character, Hoffman’s unlikely affair with a beautiful Spanish dancer, the slow, steady pace, but overall the film does keep the interest and intrigue. Ivanir’s character is the classic example – he seems far too cold, obsessively rehearsing and criticising, until it’s clear that is the point of his character – he wants technical perfection at the expense of real passion.

Overall verdict: Solid, superbly acted 40-something drama which just about gets away with its stodgy story through some powerful moments. The silver surfers will love it, the kids may well be bored, but it does what it says on the tin.

Reviewer: Mike Martin