A literary academic whose novels met with widespread commercial acclaim, the work of Iris Murdoch has a depth and elusiveness difficult to capture on screen. So for Iris, his first film as a director, Richard Eyre avoids the problematic novels and instead alternates the two phases of Murdoch's life as related by her widower John Bayley in his books Iris: A Memoir and Elegy for Iris. We see the headstrong and captivating Oxford undergraduate with academia at her feet, drawn to the gauche Bayley on account of his sincerity and understanding of what she needs to achieve for herself. Kate Winslet has the right combination of vibrancy and thoughtfulness for the young Iris, with Hugh Bonneville sympathetic as Bayley. The other phase reveals Murdoch near the end of her life, struggling to complete what would be her final novel and fulfil her public engagements as she succumbs to the effects of Alzheimer's disease. Judy Dench has given numerous fine screen performances, but none as gripping nor so heart-rending as the ageing writer who withdraws into her own world-to the consternation, anger, then acceptance of her husband, movingly played by Jim Broadbent. Cameos from such actors as Eleanor Bron and Timothy West add to the overall quality, as does Eyre's lucid script, atmospheric location filming in and around Oxford, and an attractively low-key score from James Horner. Murdoch's novels may in future receive the kind of filmic presentation that does them justice. For now, this poignant insight into episodes from the life of a great modern writer is a must-see. -Richard Whitehouse.

Writer-director Kevin Smith (Clerks) makes a huge leap in sophistication with this strong story about a comic-book artist (Ben Affleck) who falls in love with a lesbian (Joey Lauren Adams) and actually gets his wish that she love him, too. Their relationship is attacked, however, by his business partner (Jason Lee), who pulls a very unsubtle Iago act to cast doubt over the whole affair. The film has the same sense of insiderness as Clerks-this time, Smith takes us within the arcane, funny world of comic-book cultism-but the themes of jealousy, deceit and the high price of growing up enough to truly care for someone make this a very satisfying movie. -Tom Keogh.

It's not the 1935 Hitchcock classic, but this sturdy 1978 adaptation of John Buchan's The Thirty Nine Steps is still a rollicking good adventure. In keeping with the Boys' Own derring-do of the story (set in Edwardian London and the Scottish Highlands), the movie maintains a brisk pace that's interrupted only for tea or cocktails. Robert Powell is Richard Hannay, the man who unwittingly becomes embroiled in a dastardly Prussian plot to assassinate the Greek Prime Minister. Framed for murder, Hannay must flee to Scotland and attempt to clear his name whilst outwitting the prune-faced Prussian agents. Among all the deftly choreographed action sequences and careful period settings there's a strong vein of humour in the film, and if it wasn't for the numerous murders there would be little reason for PG certification. The grand dénouement comes with the realisation that the predicted time for the assassination is linked to Big Ben; unlike the earlier movie this version climaxes memorably with Powell hanging from the clock's minute hand. It might not be Hitchcock behind the lens, but it's still jolly good fun. -Joan Byrne.

A harrowing portrayal of Deep South life in the 21st century, Monster's Ball hits you where it hurts most, in the complex realm of extreme human emotions. This is not a movie to pass the time on a Sunday afternoon. With intriguing juxtapositions and some of the best editing of recent times it has all the makings of a modern film noir, yet it's not only the men that end up on the wrong side of the track: pride and ill-fortune are the real femme fatales here. Billy Bob Thornton is a death row officer whose redneck father has taught him that emotions make you weak, leading to an inability to love his son (Heath Ledger) and feel any compassion for the convicts in his care. When he loses a "loved one", he embarks on a relationship with the widow (Halle Berry) of a man whom he strapped in the electric chair, and the two of them search for comfort in sex, alcohol and chocolate ice-cream. The movie features fine turns from all actors involved, with Berry deservedly winning an Oscar for best actress and Ledger proving he is more than eye candy. Far from concluding the suffering, the ending leaves the viewer in an emotional void in which you will find yourself analysing your own shortcomings, prejudices and emotional ties. -Nikki Disney.

Style trumps substance in Renaissance, a 2006 French film whose breathtaking visuals largely overcome its shortcomings in the areas of story and character development. Detailed in a lengthy and absorbing "making of" featurette, the film's look is a combination of CG animation, motion capture, and a palette consisting solely of black & white (there are a few splashes of color late in the proceedings, but no gray whatsoever). And while it has a few obvious antecedents (the filmmakers readily acknowledge the influence of Ridley Scott's Blade Runner, not to mention the much earlier, Expressionist work of Fritz Lang and Orson Welles), Renaissance, with its commingling of heavily processed live action and graphic novel sensibilities, looks very little like anything you've ever seen before. The setting is Paris in the year 2054, and it is here that director Christian Volckman and his crew do their best work. The French capital is certainly recognisable (the Eiffel Tower and Montmartre's Sacre Coeur are two familiar landmarks), but its classic architecture is glazed with all manner of futuristic touches, from vast glass penthouses to layers of transparent walkways outside Notre Dame Cathedral; and with the preponderance of the action taking place at night, frequently in the rain, the City of Light more often suggests a very literal representation of film noir. As for the story, it's nothing special. Hard-nosed police Captain Barthélémy Karas (voiced in this English version by Daniel Craig) is searching for a female scientist who works for Avalon, one of those sinister mega-corporations that seem to run everything in movies like this; seems the woman, who has been kidnapped, possesses what's referred to as "the protocol for immortality," and Avalon, which promises good health, beauty, and long life for all, desperately wants her back. The characters are a bit stiff (physically and otherwise), the dialogue is occasionally stilted, and the film is sometimes so dark that it's hard to tell what's going on. But most of Renaissance looks so amazing that such deficiencies can easily be ignored, at least the first time through. -Sam Graham.

Strife-torn America wanted a meat-and-potatoes romance in the late 1960s, and the country embraced Erich Segal's slim, generic-sounding novel in a big way. It did so again for the film adaptation of Love Story in 1970, starring Ryan O'Neal as a law student who defies his rich and powerful father (Ray Milland) on every issue, including the former's love for a music student (Ali MacGraw). The two marry, start life together. and then the Grim Reaper turns up at the door. Directed by Arthur Hiller (The In-Laws), the film ends up lacking the kind of stylistic boost that might have made it a must-see for the ages. But its faithfulness to the book's uncomplicated and, yes, moving intentions is pretty solid. O'Neal is convincing as a nice guy who's as bullheaded in his own way as his steely father (a nice job by Milland), and MacGraw has a way of getting under one's skin. A viewer just has to try not laughing at the refrain, "Love means never having to say you're sorry". [+]

One of the cinema's great disappearing acts came to a close with the release of The Thin Red Line in late 1998. Terrence Malick, the cryptic recluse who withdrew from Hollywood visibility after the release of his visually enthralling masterpiece Days of Heaven (1978), returned to the director's chair after a 20-year coffee break. Malick's comeback vehicle is a fascinating choice: a wide-ranging adaptation of a World War II novel (filmed once before, in 1964) by James Jones. The battle for Guadalcanal Island gives Malick an opportunity to explore nothing less than the nature of life, death, God, and courage. Let that be a warning to anyone expecting a conventional war flick; Malick proves himself quite capable of mounting an exciting action sequence, but he's just as likely to meander into pure philosophical noodling-or simply let the camera contemplate the first steps of a newly born tropical bird or the sinister skulk of a crocodile. This is not especially an actors' movie-some faces go by so quickly they barely register-but the standouts are bold: Nick Nolte as a career-minded colonel, Elias Koteas as a deeply spiritual captain who tries to protect his men, Ben Chaplin as a G. I. haunted by lyrical memories of his wife. The backbone of the film is the ongoing discussion between a wry sergeant (Sean Penn) and an ethereal, almost holy private newcomer (Jim Caviezel). The picture's sprawl may be a result of Malick's method of "finding" a film during shooting and editing, and in some ways The Thin Red Line seems vaguely, intriguingly incomplete. [+]

Patricia Rozema is a Canadian director with the nerve to helm smart, big budget movies, as she proves again in Mansfield Park. She had her first hit with the quirky I've Heard the Mermaids Singing (1987) in which the heroine, a mouse among art gallery sharks, eventually comes into her own, surpassing the mentor who's risen on her back. Similarly, in Mansfield Park, adapted from Jane Austen's strongly autobiographical novel, penniless city mouse Fanny Price (Frances O'Connor) comes to live in a handsome country manor with the Bertrams, her heartless, class-conscious relations. After many cruel setbacks, Fanny manages, by dint of writing talent and moral integrity, to win the day and the love of her life Edmund (Trainspotting's Jonny Lee Miller). Unlike filmmakers who dress up Austen's money-driven world in sweetness and light, Rozema rubs our noses in the fact that the Bertrams' wealth flows from the blood and sweat of faraway slaves. The adaptation never euphemises the down-and-dirty slum life which has swallowed up Fanny's mother and threatens Fanny if she refuses to marry the handsome but hollow fortune hunter (Alessandro Nivola) chosen for her by her benefactors. Playwright Harold Pinter is compelling as Mansfield Park's patriarch, Sir Thomas Bertram, capable of kindness but stone-cold when his aristocratic will is crossed. Embeth Davidtz (playing Mary, the amoral sibling of Fanny's suitor, with wonderfully seductive verve) and O'Connor almost resemble each other-and they are sisters of a sort, each vying, according to her talents, in a stock market where women must parlay sex to stay alive. In this entertaining ride in the socioeconomic fast lane circa 1806, Jane Austen comes across as a full-blooded proto-feminist with savvy charm. -Kathleen Murphy, Amazon. [+]

The title is a mouthful, but Dreamer: Inspired by a True Story hits the winner's circle as a warm and inspiring family film. Ben Crane (Kurt Russell) is a Kentucky horse trainer who watches in horror as a championship filly breaks its leg during a practice run. Ordinarily that means curtains, but today Ben's daughter, Cale (Dakota Fanning), is at the track, and Ben impulsively buys the horse and loses his job in one fell swoop. The rehabilitation process is almost too much for a farm that's already struggling to survive in a modern economy, but the horse turns out to be a much-needed salve to the nearly broken family, including Ben's wife (Elisabeth Shue) and father (Kris Kristofferson). The cast is excellent, especially Fanning, and the film is well-paced by director-writer John Gatins and beautifully shot by cinematographer Fred Murphy. Surely the ultimate fate of the horse and the family won't surprise anyone, but young girls who love horses often don't need a surprise ending. They need a reason to cheer, and Dreamer delivers all the way. - David Horiuchi.

Luc Besson (The Fifth Element) made his American directorial debut with Leon, a stylised thriller about a French hit man (Jean Reno) who takes in an American girl (Natalie Portman) being pursued by a corrupt killer cop (Gary Oldman). Oldman is a little more unhinged than he should be, but there is something genuinely irresistible about the story line and the relationship between Reno and Portman. Rather than cave in to the cookie-cutter look and feel of American action pictures, Besson brings a bit of his glossy style from French hits La Femme Nikita and Subway to the production of The Professional, and the results are refreshing even if the bullets and explosions are awfully familiar. -Tom Keogh.