Cert – 15, Run-time – 2 hours 3 minutes, Directors – Dylan Southern, Will Lovelace

After 15 years apart, Oasis reform and take the world by storm once again with a series of sell-out concerts as the Gallagher brothers, and their fans, don’t look back in anger.

Oasis reforming seemed like a significant, unbelievable to many, moment in music history. Fans, ticket vendors (and prices) went mad at the prospect of seeing the Gallagher brothers, Bonehead and co performing live together again after breaking up 15 years prior, followed by a decade-and-a-half of public grudges and no direct communication between the brothers.

Don’t Look Back In Anger is less a behind the scenes look at their 2025 world tour and the feelings building up to it and more a celebration of Oasis. Fans singing along, without the sound mix letting them overpower the band, with great passion to the many hits that construct the show. The pure infectiousness of being caught in the middle of jumping crowds and the musicians on stage made me want to go to an Oasis concert; I like the songs I’ve heard from the band but didn’t get caught in the fever of demand tickets, that was for the fans; as is this concert films

Those who dislike the Gallagher brothers won’t be unswayed by their stubbornness and perhaps ego, but as the film shows they’re somewhat aware of this. Their roots are attitudes are embraced, and in the end with a slight knowing humour from the pair. This is, however, one for the fans. Those who were at the gigs, or maybe not able to make it to them – those who snuck onto the hill opposite the walls surrounding Heaton Park or sung the titular anthem in times of struggle. The unity of Oasis and what they mean to different people.

We hear the personal stories of how the band’s music has connected with people across the world and helped them in difficult times. This is a celebration of their music through and through, especially once the gigs themselves start and we’re out of the rehearsal room where the rift between the brothers is a focal point that suddenly gets resolved by the first gig. Noel still clearly wears his emotions while Liam says he lets his anger out through singing, one of the most interesting, but briefly discussed, details from the pair.

Once the concerts properly start it’s clear that’s the focus, and much like the band things pick up proper with pure elation from all who are witnessing them.

I found the film increasingly welcoming me in as a smile started to spread across my face during the closing numbers. Some tracks throughout might feel slightly cut up, but others are given their space to erupt into raucous chorus. One that, when you take the title song, becomes something of a call to action stemming from the reunion of Liam and Noel and sweeping across the world, and now cinema screening rooms. Creating a loud, intimate, occasionally tense look at the band’s return.

A welcoming and intimate front-and-centre seat for Oasis’ reunion tour, it may not be the personal behind-the-scenes glimpse some might hope for, but it’s a loud, rousing, celebratory chorus for the fans who waited so long with the songs held close.

Cert – 18, Run-time – 1 hour 30 minutes, Director – Gregg Araki

Early-twenties Elliot (Cooper Hoffman) gets a job working for acclaimed artist Erika Tracey (Olivia Wilde) in the build-up to her next installation, quickly becoming her sexual muse.

From the Sunset Boulevard-esque opening Gregg Araki and co-writer Karley Sciortino inverts that film and other notable references with a ferocity close to tearing them apart and reassembling the pieces in a bright fuchsia collage akin to those in the gallery of contemporary artist Erika Tracey (Olivia Wilde). Wilde is bold with equal heat in her performance as she sinks her teeth and nails into the scenery around her as the artist who quickly turns new employee, twenty-three-year-old Elliot (Cooper Hoffman) into her sexual muse.

Being unfulfilled by his girlfriend (Charli XCX), Elliot leaps with retriever-like enthusiasm into this BDSM relationship, with power and submission taking different views for both as Elliot’s relationships outside of that with Erika start to be drawn into the whirlpool – particularly best friend Apple (Chase Sui Wonders), seamlessly shifting from awkward humour into a new kind of dramatic awkwardness and tension between the pair in one intimate scene.

The humour doesn’t come directly from the aspects of power at play, or the simple base of sex, there’s a mature and adult look at the ideas at play, with intentional subversion of some of them through the laughs throughout. And there are indeed a good handful of chuckles to be had, helped by the cast, including a solid supporting cast, which also includes Daveed Diggs (who’s always great to see crop up) as Erika’s assistant.

There are jabs at the contemporary art scene, and exploitation of sex, too. Erika almost relies on it for her art, is it making a statement of sexual freedom and empowerment, or is it more for shock factor or playing into a successful market? Regardless, Elliot has fallen into it and after getting over initial anxieties he’s more than happy to keep exploring, getting a thrill and attention that he doesn’t get from his distant girlfriend – XCX is amusingly blunt with her performance as the completely bored and uninvested Minerva.

Araki shoots with bursts of colour in the surroundings. There’s a slight garishness to the bright colours coming from the art scene depicted on screen. The boldness of the characters, or at least Wilde’s manipulative artist who appears to be playing the role of artist in each facet of her personal and public life. Wilde fully commits in one of the boldest performances of her career and her effort pays off, with Erika feeling like the opposite of her character in this year’s earlier The Invite. She bites into the scenery, as does Araki and Sciortino, with a ferocity that brings out absurdity and the growing relationship tensions and dramas that Elliot spirals into with a well-tracked tonal shift in the third act. I Want Your Sex grabs attention with its boldness and then raunchiness, without skirting around its main subject or giggling at the prospect of its own title.

An adult comedy that doesn’t lean into the standard adult = sex, I Want Your Sex is a bold film with a ferocious turn from Olivia Wilde who brings out the laughs of the art world satire and growing tension between relationships faced by Cooper Hoffman’s torn and exhilarated muse.

Cert – 15, Run-time – 1 hour 28 minutes, Director – Adrian Chiarella

Teenagers Naim (Joe Bird) and Ryan (Stacy Clausen) are subjected to a conversion exorcism, causing a demon to follow them that takes the form of the person they love most – each other.

The idea of ‘pray the gay away’, or going away to camp as a form of conversion therapy, has been provided much fear and pain in often indie dramas. In writer-director Adrian Chiarella’s feature debut; Leviticus, taken from the book in the Bible that some have interpreted verses in to forbid homosexuality, the Christian community of a rural Australian town are treated like the mob in a Scorsese gangster flick.

Dragging teenager Naim (Joe Bird) out of his mum’s (Mia Wasikowska) car to force him in-front of a ‘Deliverance Healer’ (Nicholas Hope), after finding out about his feelings for fellow student Ryan (Stacy Clausen), there’s less praying and something closer to being bludgeoned by possession. The feeling of being beaten with a crucifix as we’re well aware of what’s already happened during the alleged healing when Ryan and his other possible romantic interest, Hunter (Jeremy Blewitt), went through it earlier.

We’ve also seen the fear and bloody aftermath that follows. Fittingly inspired by It Follows by way of the Philippou brothers, Ryan and Naim find themselves stalked by demons, which only they can see, taking the form of the person they most desire, each other. From there the central pair are pushed and pulled apart by each other and their demons. Intimacy and attacks look very similar, one moment on a bus is especially tense as Chiarella pushes the camera through what feels like slow, suspenseful build-up to a fight for survival.

There’s plenty of tension throughout Leviticus, yet there’s still also a sense of yearning coming particularly from Bird’s protagonist. Yearning for Ryan, but also to understand and come to terms with his sexuality against the backdrop of intense conservative Christian pressure in the kind of town that’s so empty there’s nowhere to hide.

The layout is open, even with large buildings in the background the horizon appears to go on forever; Naim feels as if he could be eternally lost and chased. Yearning of course comes, sometimes, with a feeling of isolation and Chiarella and cinematographer Tyson Perkins understand that in their framing. Naim and Ryan both wish to escape, their closest and tensest moments revolve around it, often in the containment and opportunity of transport. The idea of mistrust, that the person opposite could kill them, overshadowing the potential freedom.

At just 88-minutes there’s a tightly edited story here which manages to draw out its suspense and fear against the growing horizon. A horizon scattered with fear, yearning and occasionally gnarly moments, especially once the switch is flicked as Naim and the audience experience what Ryan and Hunter have been stalked and attacked by. Leviticus brings another exciting voice for horror from Australia’s indie boom in the genre.

Tense and yearning, Leviticus captures the fear and isolation of wanting to be free. Intimacy and attacks blend together for suspense as the threat of demons and mob-like conservative Christianity hangs over each frame.

Cert – 15, Run-time – 1 hour 58 minutes, Director – Ridley Scott

After a virus has wiped out most of humanity, survivor Hig (Jacob Elordi) hears a signal that indicates more, fending off deadly factions whilst searching for the source.

If you were to leave The Dog Stars and come back in a couple of minutes later there’s a chance that for a moment you might feel as if you’ve walked into a different film. While working as a whole piece there’s a feeling that the individual segments are striving for such different post-apocalyptic(ish) tones that once the film appears to have settled it wants to explore something new.

Jacob Elordi’s Hig is one of the few survivors of a virus that has wiped out most of humanity. That which remains has largely divided into factions with intent to kill anyone else on sight, stalking amongst overgrown cities – the design of which is consistently immersive even if the story unfolding within it lags behind. When Hig hears a signal from other possible friendly survivors whilst flying his plane to get supplies from the nearby city he becomes fixated on trying to find them, someone else other than grumpy, defensive sniper Bangley (Josh Brolin).

However, the dangers of the world outweigh the kindness of the likes of lightly-glimpsed Mennonite communities, such as one led by Benedict Wong, causing a handful of stops for Hig – including an uneasy one involving Margaret Qualley and Guy Pearce (giving a performance worthy of a much better film) as a father and daughter surviving in their isolated ranch. During this time the film keeps cutting back to Brolin with little to do until a burst of sudden action, simply shouting at us that we must be coming back to him properly later, otherwise his strand would be over with, he’s certainly not providing anything for Hig, or really the audience.

When in its flow there’s a likable sense to The Dog Stars. Scott’s attention to detail when it comes to the world has a real effect and a solid atmosphere in the initial world building. In the later stages an escape sequence brings in horror tones which feel out of place but hint at tenser possibilities even if in a very brief, otherwise out of place, moment. It’s a feeling that crops up a lot within The Dog Stars. Scott wanting to cover a lot and explore plenty of different tones and elements with a screenplay that doesn’t cover as much, or help to contain the directors vision.

Each longer thread and sequence has something to it to like and engage, particularly when leaning into the quieter character threat at hand – which Pearce captures from the first moment he appears on screen – other louder, more explosive action feeling more rushed and out of nowhere. While it might feel slow in some areas the two-hour run-time doesn’t feel too pushed and there’s just about enough in the world to keep us engaged, especially when the characters feel a part of it rather than being dwarfed in it.

With a screenplay that can’t keep up with its director’s grander vision, the world of The Dog Stars is immersive but the story itself lags behind. When focusing on threat there are effective moments, but they feel brief amongst the larger tonally shifting sequences.

Cert – 15, Run-time – 1 hour 52 minutes, Director – Jane Schoenbrun

Looking to relaunch a classic slasher franchise, director Kris (Hannah Einbinder) visits the original film’s reclusive final girl (Gillian Anderson) leading to awakenings and confrontations for both.

Long before it became more upfront in recent years, horror has long been a lens for social commentary. Jane Schoenbrun’s latest feature combines how the pat and present have confronted this by following young director Kris (Hannah Einbinder) as she looks to relaunch the long-dormant Camp Miasma franchise – this world’s Friday The 13th, where Jason, here called Little Death (Jack Haven), has an air vent on his head – with a view to cast the original film’s final girl, Billy Presley (Gillian Anderson – on fine form as a modern day Norma Desmond).

While the Camp Miasma franchise has been heavily criticised for outdated views, depictions and a slightly schlocky attitude, there’s something about it that Kris has fallen in love with over the years; another aspect has seen Little Death become an iconic character. Meanwhile, Billy, living in the camp the original film was made in, still holds traumas from her time filming. These layered meanings and dual existences are at the core of Schoenbrun’s film which feels less an analysis or thesis on the subject and more an entertaining look at the changing face of horror amongst evolving attitudes and reclamations.

While their work may not be for everyone, Schoenbrun has so far made films that have more than resonated with audiences but that they’ve actively identified and found something with – particularly 2024’s I Saw The TV Glow which, while I may have been lukewarm on preferring 2021’s skin-crawlingly unsettling internet horror We’re All Going To The World’s Fair, received a lot of praise, especially from late-millennials and early Gen-Zs.

The same may very well be the case for Teenage Sex And Death, which could have more mass appeal, as a viewing of a Camp Miasma film; complete with geyser-like blood sprays, starts to meld its way into woozy dream, or dream-like, sequences. Providing awakenings for the central pair, both wonderfully performed by the two leads who capture a knowingly Sunset Boulevard nature to the characters which also evolves once pointed out. The footage of Camp Miasma is an extended sequence which starts to feel overlong amongst the rest of the film, despite working well as its own thing, but there’s still the two stars to take us through the rest of the journey.

One that should work well for horror fans, but should be accessible for those who tend to avoid the genre; there aren’t exactly scares here as such, the main horror beats come through in the understanding and links to the genre, although there are patches of splatter. What helps Schoenbrun’s film is that understanding without feeling like a textbook. There’s an entertaining story of different identities through one film, and franchise, here. For different ages, experiences and traumas. Cleverly and enjoyably pieced together in a sexually-tinged crimson furor.

A smart look at the kaleidoscopic faces horror can wear, Teenage Sex And Death At Camp Miasma may draw some tangents out a bit too long, but it all comes back to the two well-performed leads and their layered relationships with each other and the titular franchise, each modern and personal from Schoenbrun.

Cert – PG, Run-time – 1 hour 43 minutes, Director – Dave Green

After years of Acme products failing on him whilst trying to catch the Road Runner, Wile E Coyote hires a small-claims lawyer (Will Forte) to help him sue the corporation.

It’s been a long road for Coyote Vs Acme to get to the big screen. Initially set for release in 2023 before being almost deleted as part of Warner Bros set of tax write-offs – one of the most egregiously anti-art moves in modern cinema – campaigns at awards shows, outside the studio lot and across social media; all of which are thanked in the end credits, saw Ketchup Entertainment; who also saved this year’s animated Looney Tunes feature The Day The Earth Blew Up, purchase distribution rights for the film.

It’s fitting then, that the film looks at the resilience and determination of cartoons, particularly Wile E Coyote in his attempts to catch the Road Runner. No matter how many roadblocks he hits, or cliffs he plummets from, he gets back up and purchases another Acme product. However, when they keep failing on him he decides that he’s faced enough humiliation and must sue the corporation.

Hiring crumpled small-claims lawyer Kevin Avery (Will Forte) a case for faulty rocket boots soon escalates into a multi-million dollar suit, facing off against Acme’s chief counsel Buddy Crane (an entertainingly straight-faced, cartoonish John Cena). Despite being told to be on his best behaviour, antics start to unfold both in and out of the courtroom.

This is the world of the Looney Tunes characters that humans just happen to be living in, with some using the cartoon aspects to their advantage. There’s an enjoyable chaos as the Tasmanian Devil spins a whirlwind through the courtroom, or Bugs Bunny playfully amusing himself with wisecracks and parody.

Eric Bauza, who has been the resident Looney voice actor for the last few years, and brings as much energy as many of these characters would have had almost 80 years ago, was one of the most vocal figures in the campaign to get the film released – yelling in the voice of Daffy Duck “release Coyote Vs Acme” during a speech at the Annie Awards in 2024. He takes Foghorn Leghorn and, alongside Samy Burch’s screenplay, manages to turn him into a boo hiss corporate villain as the CEO of Acme while still keeping the heart of the character.

Coyote Vs Acme sticks true to these characters. Their wackiness, ability to defy gravity until they look down and just how squashable, flexible and chaotic they can be. They fit in to a human world because their presence already defies it and continues to do so through their actions, while humans more exist alongside them, like Eddie Valiant plunging into Toontown. There’s consistently funny slapstick and playfulness amongst the growing levels of courtroom comedy. Fully embracing the humour and determination of cartoons in our world, those ideas match some of the journey it took to get this released, and what a great thing that it was.

Much like its cartoons, Coyote Vs Acme has proved to be determined, resilient and just a bit chaotic. Embracing that about the animated characters who maintain their heart, the world and trial are successfully formed around them for plenty of humour.

Cert – 12, Run-time – 1 hour 39 minutes, Director – David Robert Mitchell

The Platt family (Anne Hathaway, Ewan McGregor, Maisy Stella, Christian Convery) fight for their lives, trying to find a way to escape their neighbourhood when overnight it’s transported to an unknown location surrounded by dinosaurs.

What makes something a summer blockbuster has changed over the last 51 years since Spielberg’s Jaws was labelled the first. Then, audiences seeking the cinema’s air-con literally queuing round the block to see whatever was on. Fortunately, they were met with thrills, action, a fear factor, maybe some chuckles and an all-round entertaining film.

With occasional coming-of-age themes Spielberg and Amblin Entertainment would create a mould for the summer blockbuster that provided family entertainment into the 80s. Sat in a cool cinema the nostalgic feeling of David Robert Mitchell’s 80s-set The End Of Oak Street washed over me as his own Amblin-esque tale played out.

The concept sounds ridiculous, it is. A family (Anne Hathaway, Ewan McGregor, Maisy Stella, Christian Convery) finds themselves fighting for survival, and escape, when their neighbourhood is transported via solar flare to an unknown location with dinosaurs running through it. Screams run through the street in contrast to the laughs and chatter of the summer street party taking place in the opening scenes. There’s plenty of thrills and tension on display as chases unfold, characters use what they can get hold of to fight back and one snake-like creature proves immensely unsettling.

Hathway and McGregor fully commit to the film, selling Mitchell’s various ‘reaction then action’ shots, with the former giving one of her best performances this year. They create just as much tension as the prehistoric threats, matched with Michael Giacchino’s John Williams-style score; matching the maestro’s notable brass-force style throughout without feeling like a copy.

And neither does Oak Street itself feel like a copy. The film is dedicated to Mitchell’s late father, and it feels like the kind that he may have grown up watching with him at the cinema. A personal hint at the finale of this entertaining ride, where viewing environment could play as much a role as the tone of the film; one that with its 12 rating doesn’t shy away from intensity whilst still standing as family viewing.

For 99-minutes, with things getting out just as they threaten being drawn out, I was utterly thrilled and entertained. Summer 2026 has been a big deal for cinema; Spider-Man and The Odyssey helped break records for the biggest weekend ever at the US box office, the first week-and-a-half of August alone in the UK saw over half the amount of admissions that the entire month saw last year. There have been plenty of great, acclaimed films, but sometimes you just want to walk out the cinema smiling. The End Of Oak Street did just that for me through pure enjoyment.

Stepping past the fact it could so easily start and continue as nonsense, The End Of Oak Street is a nostalgic callback to the cinematic escapes that it emulates. Thrilling summer entertainment in one of its truest forms. 

A throwback to the Amblin blockbusters of the 80s, The End Of Oak Street has fear, thrills and lashings of fun. Pure nostalgic entertainment from start to finish.

Cert – 18, Run-time – 1 hour 26 minutes, Director – Eli Roth

When a mysterious ice cream man (Ari Millen) arrives in a quiet town, overnight the kids turn to kill all the adults in the area.

As children race around, screaming and giggling as they disembowel one of their teachers beneath the jungle gym I sat truly confused as to whether Eli Roth wanted me to find the grisly 18-certificate images on screen funny. He seems to find amusement himself in the sight of children possessed by evil ice cream caving in a face to the point where it more resembles jam, or perhaps in this case strawberry sauce, but the degree of the violence and rough CG imagery contradicts this with suggestions that there should be a darker impact.

The idea of Ice Cream Man feels at home with cheap yet enjoyable 80s slashers such as Chopping Mall, a mysterious ice cream van (driven by Ari Millen’s silent titular figure) turns up one day in a sleepy town, seemingly with enough supply to cater to the entire child population and some adults, and overnight the children wake up and start to kill the adults. It’s up to young, lactose intolerant Jared (Charlie Zeltzer) and fellow pupils Mia (Kiori Mirza Waldman) – whose reasoning for not being possessed is unfortunately “I’m a 12-year-old girl, of course I know how to make myself throw up” – and Tommy (Shiloh O’Reilly) to find out what’s happening and try and break the curse before they, too, get turned.

There’s territory for a dark, twisted film with the children performing the killings, but Roth consistently feels as if he’s trying to create a laugh that he’s in on but not the audience. Cue a succession of kills followed by another succession of clues a few feet away followed by even more just down the road, after extended sight of the normal everyday the narrative soon stretches into a set of attack sequences where each kill is too brief to actually have an effect, simply moving on to the next as quickly as possible to show off a new idea. The focus for Roth’s screenplay appears to have been how he can push things and what potentially shocking or ridiculous way he can create bloodshed next.

It all becomes quite bland quite quickly, almost as uninspired as the AI images cropping up throughout, particularly in cartoons with a jingle that seems to hypnotise the children the day before they turn. A tonally jumbled cycle that never feels certain as to whether the audience is meant to find humour in the gore or not. Mix in bursts of on-the-nose dialogue in one of the years clunkiest scripts and the whole thing starts to feel like an exercise in clumping a story around a succession of bodies, where even the director’s amusement starts to feel uncertain.

Focused on a succession of tonally confusing kills, joined by some truly basic dialogue, Ice Cream Man’s a cold, flavourless 86-minutes that feels like an inside joke exclusively for its director.