Code Name Geronimo reaches UK cinemas on December 14th and arrives on DVD and Blu-ray on December 24th.

If you’re not feeling the festive cheer at this time of year and don’t fancy the usual seasonal stories of goodwill to all men why not see this ultra-glossy and clumsily titled “docudrama”. Because while it does centre round a famous white-bearded recluse he isn’t very jolly and some extremely un-Christmassy things happen to him. Yes, this is the dramatisation of the brutal take-down of Osama Bin Laden and the (entirely fictionalised) private lives and relationships between the Navy Seal team that did the taking down.

In fact it’s doubly strange that this deceptively thoughtful and less gung-ho than you expect film is released at this family friendly time of year, because it’s actually an American TV movie produced by the Weinstein Company for the National Geographic channel. It’s no secret that Hollywood powerhouse Harvey Weinstein is one of President Obama’s biggest public supporters and fundraisers so it’s surely no coincidence that this recreation of one of the President’s most popular achievements aired two days before the his victory at the Presidential election.

So while it’s easy to view Geronimo (I can’t keep using the full title or I’ll run out of space) as a piece of propaganda it’s not as mindlessly patriotic as you might fear. In fact, a lot of the (mostly right-wing) criticism that it’s received in the US stems from the fact that it doesn’t frame the titular team as knights in shining armour but as real and flawed human beings. Some of them, shockingly, seem to relish the gruesome task they’ve been assigned and some of them, even more shockingly to the right-wing press, don’t relish it at all. So while this is a film that strives to present a this-is-how-it-happened docudrama approach, there’s no getting away from the fact that its central characters are all figments of screenwriter Kendall Lampkin’s imagination. In real life Seal Team 6 are all still entirely anonymous, so this story is more or less entirely fictional and these characters are all inventions.

Lampkin has avoided any temptation to make them obvious stereotypes and they’re played by some recognisable faces such as Xzibit, Anson Mount from the popular Western TV show Hell on Wheels (sporting his decidedly 1870s looking hairdo, which is surely against regulations) and pint-sized, baby-faced Freddy Rodriguez who, while a fine actor, isn’t very convincing as a grizzled career soldier. We only get short glimpse into the lives and psyches of the characters before the action starts and it kind of feels like Lampkin was expecting to revisit them, in fact the whole thing feels a lot like the pilot episode of an ongoing TV show.

This extends to the film’s look, which seems to be aiming to redefine the word “glossy”. While it’s shot in the now familiar shaky-cam style pioneered by the Bourne films and favoured by TV shows like Homeland and 24, it’s also shot in eye-achingly clear HD that gives everything a hyper real look and is nicely immersive but has the side effect of showing the actors in excruciating detail. When William Fichtner (as intelligence bigwig Mr. Guidry) gets a close up all you can think is how old he’s looking. It’s no surprise that the film has such a sleek sheen as it’s directed by John Stockwell, who’s helmed similarly slick efforts such as Blue Crush and who started off as an actor. In fact he played Cougar in the ultimate glossily fetishised military movie event, Top Gun.

This isn’t as blatantly romanticised as that film. Although it’s a fiction it feels rooted in reality and it concludes with the real footage of Obama making his now famous speech informing the world that Bin Laden is no longer a threat. It becomes clear at this stage who the real star of the film is and depending on your political leanings at this point you’ll be either be filled with admiration or anger.

Overall Verdict: This an incredibly glossy and slick drama and while it often feels like exciting escapism it’s hard to enjoy it as such because there’s no escaping the fact that this is essentially a piece of propaganda and although it claims to tell the true story of Bin Laden’s death it’s almost completely fictional. Still, it helped Obama get a second term so it’s done its job well and probably deserves praise for that.

Reviewer: Adam Pidgeon

There’s quite a history of portraying alcoholics in Hollywood. From Billy Wilder’s brilliant Lost Weekend to Leaving Las Vegas, there is a surprisingly sympathetic and high quality list. However, this is nowhere near in that class – yet it’s difficult to say exactly why.

The film actually has a lot going for it individually, it just never hangs together in a compelling or interesting way. Mary Elizabeth Winstead plays Kate, a primary school teacher who is popular with the kids and her colleagues. However she loves boozing, as does her feckless husband, Charlie (Aaron Paul), and together they seem to be on a permanent bender. When Kate wakes up on a bench in a car park it’s the beginning of the end, and she decides to quit the booze.

Her problem is that everyone around her loves drinking, but help arrives in the form of fellow teacher Dave (Nick Offerman), who is a member of AA and invites her to a meeting. There she meets Jenny (Octavia Spencer, terrific) who has turned her life around and helps Kate to do the same. Things start to go wrong though when Dave admits he has a crush on Kate, and her school is not quite as supportive as she imagined it would be.

The film looks great – shot in only 19 days, it captures the seediness of Los Angeles’ bars and drug alleys, and a couple of shots of the relentless sunlight are truly stunning. The supporting cast are good too, especially Spencer as a bruised women determined to get herself together, and Megan Mullally as the goody-goody school head who proves to be a total hypocrite. There’s also a strong speech by Kate about the perils of being sober which, she admits, almost equal being drunk.

The problem is that films like this totally depend on the sympathy of the lead characters, and it’s here Smashed falls down badly. Winstead has been perfectly charming on screen many times before – she was the only thing that made Final Destination 3 and Death Proof watchable – but here she is just plain annoying. Sober, her cheap clothes and energetic maths lessons scream ‘kooky’, and drunk she just overacts. There is a back story about her useless mother, and her hubby is equally lacking in drive, yet her relentless gurning when drunk is as irritating as her lecturing when sober.

She is not helped by a script that simply repeats key scenes and speeches several times – she pretends to be pregnant to explain a vomiting episode, a scene which is referred to over and over again to the point of tedium. Similarly, when Dave makes a speech revealing his feeling for her he uses an inappropriate phrase, which she refers to far too many times. The film has a short running time but it feels interminable at times.

Overall verdict: Worthy attempt to portray alcoholism which suffers from a poor lead performance and a scrappy script which could have done with far more polish. Some nice photography and strong supporting performances fail to save it from feeling like a bad hangover. The first thing I did on leaving the screening room was have a glass of wine.

Reviewer: Mike Martin

Remember the scene in Kevin Smith’s Clerks where two videostore workers are arguing over the relative merits of Star Wars v Lord of the Rings? Star Wars is heralded as a classic, while LOTR is dismissed as ‘nine hours of walking’.

The same accusation could be hurled at The Hobbit, Peter Jackson’s version of the Tolkien novel, which was much delayed and suffered several false starts. At one point Guillermo del Toro was down to direct it – one can only wonder how much more exciting and visually interesting it might have been if he had.

The first Hobbit film of three seems baggy, stretched far too long, slow and frankly interminably dull in parts. At least 90 minutes could be cropped out – but even if it had been it would still seem like a trailer more than a film in its own right. It’s a cynical exercise in money-making, and would appear to hover over the next three Christmases like the recession. Bah, humbug.

Martin Freeman is about the best thing in it, playing the hobbit himself Bilbo Baggins. He’s happily living in his hole, with plenty of food, drink and logs for the fire. Along come a group of dwarves – much to his dismay – claiming he is the chosen one to go on a journey to the Lonely Mountain to reclaim a treasure stolen from them by the dragon Smaug.

Baggins is reluctant to go, but after a bit of quiet persuasion from wizard Gandalf he agrees, and off they go on horseback. There follows close on three hours of strange meetings with giants, mountains that come to life, and various battles with the orcs. There’s also the inevitable meeting with Gollum; when Baggins falls inside a mountain and plays a riddle game to try and escape. That scene, around 15 minutes long, seems to go on for ever – and we’ve seen Andy Serkis’ Gollum before, so now it just looks creepy and a little tired.

Visually there’s a problem. It’s filmed in the much-lauded 48 frames per second format rather than the usual 24, which is used to help eradicate the problems such as jumpy panning in 3D, but the result is peculiar. It looks crystal-clear – too clear, with the plastic noses and sets looking completely fake. It also makes some sequences seem weirdly speeded-up, like a DVD on x2 fast-forward – in fact the whole film has the look of a DVD extra rather than a polished product. The 3D adds nothing, and certain sequences look far too much like a computer game than a movie, especially the sequence when two mountains have a fight. Yawn.

There are cameos from the likes of Hugo Weaving, Cate Blanchett, Christopher Lee and Ian Holm, none of whom leave much of an impression apart from Blanchett’s ethereal turn. The dwarves leave a meeting between Weaving, Blanchett and Lee without consulting them first – presumably they are as bored with it as we are.

Talking of the performances, only Blanchett and Freeman emerge from the mess with much credit. Freeman is gleefully reluctant as the timid Hobbit, slowly finding his bravery and giving the dwarves the support they need. James Nesbitt and Ken Stott try their best to find some live under the rubber noses, while Richard Armitage is probably the best performance as the dwarves’ brave leader in a breakthrough role.

Ian McKellen as Gandalf is simply ghastly, in his ridiculous pointy hat, grey fluffy beard and dull eyes, it’s a classic case of dialling it in. Even Sylvester McCoy puts in more of a shift than a performance as a mad wizard who rescues a hedgehog from certain death – which is about exciting as it sounds.

Overall verdict: A bloated, overblown, cynical exercise in studio cash-creation, which stretches on for an eternity. A few nice jokes and some battle sequences fail to spark it into any kind of life. The thought of two more episodes is asking too much of an audience.

Reviewer: Mike Martin

Rarely has a lover of film noir gone so far out of his way to break the rules of the genre. Doesn’t director Barnaby Southcombe know the detective wears the raincoat, not the femme fatale? And she is supposed to be pure evil, not vulnerable and warm? And you certainly don’t cast your own mum as the woman in question.

Southcombe does all these, and certainly gets some of the noir rules right – his dark, gloomy London looks utterly bleak and neon-lit. However a bit more detail in the script, and a re-write of the melodramatic ending, and he could have earned five stars. As it is it’s a brave stab at British noir, with lots to recommend it and enjoy along the way.

Southcombe does of course have a big head start – his mum is Charlotte Rampling, who plays Anna, a lonely woman living in a too-hectic London. She is desperate to see her daughter Emmy (Hayley Atwell), but everyone seems to be too busy to give her any time. Anna decides to break the cycle by attending a singles night in the Barbican.

Gabriel Byrne plays the insomniac, crumpled cop Bernie who is called to a murder scene in the Barbican’s towers – a man has been bludgeoned to death. He bumps into Anna, remembers her car registration and tracks her down, following her to another singles night where they get together. However Anna claims she has no memory of meeting him, claiming she hasn’t been to the Barbican ‘for 20 years’.

The crime seems to have been committed by a boy owing money in a drugs deal, but his mum Janet (Jodhi May) takes the boy away to Southend where Bernie and Franks (Eddie Marsan) track him down, but something about the boy doesn’t fit the crime. Bernie seems to think it has something to do with Anna, while at the same time falling for her.

The labyrinthine plot pushes the film into a corner from which it has no way out, which is a shame as the first hour is excellent. Fuelled by some truly stunning camerawork of a steely grey and blue London, and some great Richard Hawley moody songs, it sets the mood perfectly.

Then there are the performances. Rampling pushes herself a long way as Anna, instead of the usual icy beauty we get a vulnerable, brittle woman, fighting against the ageing process and a city that simply doesn’t recognise her. Byrne too is good as Bernie, the exhausted-looking cop who is struggling to put the case together while falling for Anna’s charms – it’s just a shame both characters are so lightly drawn, much more back story is needed.

Atwell is fine as Anna’s daughter, but it’s Jodhi May who again threatens to steal the show as a frightened, poverty-hit mum angrily lashing out at anyone who tries to communicate with her. Even Ralph Brown does enough to almost make fans forget his turn in Withnail & I.

Overall verdict: Brave attempt to update film noir which can only be considered a partial success due to a script that needs a polish. Fantastically gloomy visuals and a top cast can’t quite elevate it to anything more than average, but it’s a calling card for Southcombe, who is clearly one to watch. Be interesting to see what he does when his mum isn’t around.

Reviewer: Mike Martin

Following his comedy crime caper, Down Terrace (2009), and the occult oddity, Kill List (2011), director Ben Wheatley continues to trudge through the weird and wonderful dark side of Britain, this time choosing the Lake District as the setting for his very own Badlands.

The film follows Chris and Tina (Steve Oram and Alice Lowe – both names to remember), who, despite barely knowing each other, embark on a passion-fuelled road trip together through Derbyshire, Yorkshire and beyond. With pencil museums on the itinerary and plenty of Tina’s pasta sauce in supply, the two new lovers travel in their modest caravan and take in the wonderful sights of northern England, escaping Tina’s manipulative mother and combatting Chris’ writer’s block in the process.

When a bloody accident sees a fellow pencil-enthusiast crushed under the wheel of Chris’ caravan, Chris’ penchant for murder bubbles to the surface, and it’s not long before Tina is pulled into Chris’ mad, bad world.

Like a deranged and unpredictable Shane Meadows, Wheatley once again delivers a unique interpretation of his home country that’s quintessentially British, albeit in an off-kilter way. This time Wheatley uses the beautiful countryside of Cumbria to paint a bleak and eerie picture of a no man’s land where danger permeates throughout the ancient woodlands. Of course, Sightseers is very funny too: absurd, deadpan and fiercely violent in equal measure.

Oram and Lowe are both brilliant as the unassuming fugitives, coming across like a loveable, cagoule-wearing Micky and Mallory Knox, boasting charm, naivety and menace and carrying more than a fistful of superb one-liners.

With a great soundtrack and a finale that’ll leave you guffawing like a Daily Mail devotee reading an asylum seeker joke, Sightseers is a short, sweet blast of British black comedy at its best.

Overall Verdict: These Brummie born killers will make you laugh one minute and recoil in horror the next. Bizarre and bloody hilarious.

Reviewer: Lee Griffiths

A funny, witty, self-reverential, post-modern hitman movie that to keep the laughs coming whilst never becoming sentimental. That’s a sentence I never thought I’d write, especially about a Martin McDonagh film. While In Bruges was admired by fans and critics alike, I found it took far too many liberties with its material and was too clever-clever by half.

While the same criticisms could, in theory, be levelled at Seven Psychopaths, the film is way ahead of its audience this time. Clearly based on McDonagh’s presumed writer’s block after In Bruges, it centres around Colin Farrell again, playing a writer trying to get his film idea, Seven Psychopaths, down on paper – yes, it’s post-modern story-within-a-story time again.

Farrell is stuck though – he is too boozy and lazy to actually write anything, his girlfriend (Abbie Cornish) is unsupportive and only his pal (Sam Rockwell) gets him out of bed in the morning. Rockwell’s profession is kidnapping dogs, then claiming the reward, but when he takes the dog of psycho Woody Harrelson, it sets off a chain of killings and chases that all becomes very complicated, but resolves itself in satisfactory manner according to the rules of film-writing, which Farrell himself keeps quoting.

The remarkable achievement of McDonagh’s film is that however bogged down it becomes in film theory it always stays entertaining and – more importantly – engaging. One of the psychos of the title, a Vietnamese pacifist who decides to take revenge on the USA for the atrocities on his village, appears to be thrown in and forgotten about, but fear not, McDonagh finds a use for him by the end. He even has Christopher Walken read Farrell’s screenplay and make amendments to it – amendments which find their way into the real film.

Essays in film structure have never been this entertaining, nor have on-screen killings. One sequence has the villain’s head exploded by a handgun, before Farrell and Walken have a good laugh about it in the car: ‘heads don’t explode – not unless they are made of explosives’. Somehow though the fate of these apparently despicable men remain interesting – even Rockwell, who early on kills his girlfriend, Olga Kurylenko, for no apparent reason, and in quite a nasty way. That’s no way to treat a Bond girl.

The shadow of Tarantino is all over this story, especially when Walken re-enacts his famous scene from True Romance, except this time he appears to be on the receiving end. Even Tarantino though would struggle to come up with as many violent deaths and snappy one-liners as this.

McDonagh is hugely assisted by some terrific performances. Farrell is the exhausted, alcohol-fuelled writer trying to hold it all together, while Rockwell and Harrelson have a blast as psychos, each pushing the other to further extremes. Walken rises above his usual blank-eyed stare to provide the heart of the film, a possible madman but one with a personal tragedy and a heavy burden.

Overall verdict: A refreshing blast of post-modern Hollywood storytelling, with a great script and cast. Blows away the cobwebs of a thousand film studies lectures in 100 minutes.

Reviewer: Mike Martin