The most successful invigoration of a cinematic franchise since Batman Begins, Casino Royale offers a new Bond identity. Based on the Ian Fleming novel that introduced Agent 007 into a Cold War world, Casino Royale is the most brutal and viscerally exciting James Bond film since Sean Connery left Her Majesty's Secret Service. Meet the new Bond; not the same as the old Bond. Daniel Craig gives a galvanising performance as the freshly minted double-0 agent. Suave, yes, but also a "blunt instrument," reckless and possessed with an ego that compromises his judgment during his first mission to root out the mastermind behind an operation that funds international terrorists. In classic Bond film tradition, his global itinerary takes him to far-flung locales, including Uganda, Madagascar, the Bahamas (that's more like it) and Montenegro, where he is pitted against his nemesis in! a poker game, with hundreds of millions in the pot. The stakes get even higher when Bond lets down his armour by falling in love with Vesper (Eva Green), the ravishing banker's representative fronting him the money.

For longtime fans of the franchise, Casino Royale offers some retro kicks. Bond wins his iconic Aston Martin at the gaming table, and when a bartender asks if he wants his martini "shaken or stirred," he disdainfully replies, "Do I look like I give a damn?". There's no Moneypenny or "Q," but Dame Judi Dench is back as the exasperated M who, one senses, admires Bond's "bloody cheek." A Bond film is only as good as its villain, and Mads Mikkelsen as Le Chiffre, who weeps blood, is a sinister dandy. From its punishing violence and virtuoso action sequences to its romance, Casino Royale is a Bond film that, in the words of one character, 'makes you feel it', particularly during an excruciating torture sequence. Double-0s, Bond observes early on, "have a short life expectancy". But with Craig, there is new life in the old franchise yet, as well as genuine anticipation for the next one when, at last, the signature James Bond theme kicks in following the best last ! line ever in any Bond film. To quote Goldie Hawn in Private Benjamin, "now I know what I've been faking all these years". —Donald Liebenson

John Huston was only one of five directors on Casino Royale, the expensive, all-star 1967 spoof of Ian Fleming's 007 lore. David Niven is the aging Sir James Bond, called out of retirement to take on the organised threat of SMERSH and pass on the secret-agent mantle to his idiot son (Woody Allen). The amazing cast (Orson Welles, Peter Sellers, Deborah Kerr and others) is wonderful to look at, but the film is not as funny as it should be, and the romping even starts to look mannered after a while. The musical score by Burt Bacharach, however, is a keeper. —Tom Keogh, Amazon.com

Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle is a big, fun, bubble-brained mess of a movie and that's exactly as it should be. Its popular 2000 predecessor got the formula right: gorgeous babes, throwaway plots and as many current pop-cultural trends as you could stuff into a candy-coated dollop of Hollywood mayhem. This sequel goes one "better": the plot is even more disposable (if that's possible), the babes, cars, and fashions are even more outlandish and the stuntwork (heavily digital, heavily absurd) reaches astonishing heights of cartoon silliness. Reprising their titular (and shamelessly titillating) roles, Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore and Lucy Liu are having the time of their lives, especially when sparring with ultra-buff rogue angel Demi Moore (looking better at 40 than most women half her age) and Justin Theroux as a sleazy Irish mobster. Bernie Mac replaces Bill Murray as angel-sidekick Bosley (they're step-brothers, don'cha know), which is one more indication of McG's intentionally reckless stewardship of an intentionally reckless franchise. —Jeff Shannon

Columbia, TriStar, CDR29077 Region 2 2000 94 mins

As warming as a nice cup of tea on a cloudy day, Chicken Run is that charming singularity, a commercially successful British family movie that has near-universal appeal without compromising its inherent British pluckiness (that will be the first and last poultry-pun in this review). It invites us into the Plasticine-world of Tweedy's farm, a far-from-free-range egg factory ruled with an axe of iron by greedy Mrs.Tweedy. One intrepid chicken, Ginger (voiced by Julia Sawalha) sets her sights on breaking out the whole flock, a cast of beautifully individuated chicken characters including ditsy Babs (voiced by Jane Horrocks), matronly Bunty (Imelda Staunton) and practical-minded Mac (Lynn Ferguson). Each effort is thwarted, and Ginger repeatedly reaps a spell in the coal bunker for her troubles, prompting the first of many allusions to The Great Escape, one of several World War II films name-checked throughout. (Grown-ups will have a ball playing Spot-the-Allusion Game here.) When an American rooster named Rocky (Mel Gibson) literally drops in from the air, the hens are set all a-flutter with excitement thinking he'll help teach them to fly away at last. But Rocky is not all he seems.

Although the action sags just a fraction around the 40-minute mark, it's the set pieces that really lift this into the realm of cartoon genius: the montage of inept flying attempts, Rocky and Ginger's narrow escape from Mrs Tweedy's new pie machine (an horrific contraption of chomping steel and industrial menace) and the magnificent, soaring climax. Despite the fact British animators (such as the directors, Nick Park and Peter Lord, themselves) regularly scoop Oscars for their short films, our record in full-feature length cartoons has been scrappy at best. There have been a few highlights—Animal Farm (1955), The Yellow Submarine (1968), Watership Down (1978)—and, er, that's about it really, unless you count The Magic Roundabout: Dougal and the Blue Cat. ChickenRun, made by the Aardman production house who produced the delightful Wallace and Gromit shorts among many other treats, has proved that Britain can compete with the most calculated, merchandised and screen-tested Disney production and win. —Leslie Felperin

Click is a high-concept, low-brow variation on It's a Wonderful Life that will have Adam Sandler fans laughing even as it leaves Frank Capra spinning in his grave. In their third collaboration (after The Wedding Singer and The Waterboy, Sandler and director Frank Coraci aim at the lowest common denominator and consistently hit their target, from scary casting (David Hasselhoff as Sandler's shallow, sexist boss; Sean Astin in a tight red Speedo) to a rancid menu of fart jokes, fat jokes, oversexed dogs, and other attempts at humour that rarely rise above the level of grade-school pranks.

Sandler's "family comes first" sentiment somehow manages to survive the onslaught of rude, crude attitude that Sandler brings to his role as Michael Newman, a workaholic architect who learns the hard way that, well, family comes first. This happens after Newman gets a magical remote control from Morty (Christopher Walken, the film's one and only highlight), an eccentric oddball in the "Beyond" section of a Bed, Bath & Beyond store who's a devilish version of Wonderful Life's benevolent guardian angel. But Sandler's no James Stewart as he uses his techno-marvel (complete with a DVD-like "life menu") to fast-forward through his life's most unpleasant moments, only to realize that he's been missing lots of good stuff, too. With Kate Beckinsale as Newman's neglected wife, impressive older-age make-ups by Rick Baker and a lot of digital wizardry to beef up the humour, Click won't disappoint Sandler's established fan base, and its US$40 million opening weekend offered ample proof that Sandler's box-office clout remains remarkably consistent.—Jeff Shannon

In the grand scheme of theological thrillers, Constantine aspires for the greatness of The Exorcist but ranks more closely with The Order. Based on the popular Hellblazer comic book series, and directed with nary a shred of intelligence by music video veteran Francis Lawrence, it's basically The Matrix with swarming demons instead of swarming machines. Keanu Reeves slightly modifies his Matrix persona as John Constantine, who roams the dark-spots of Los Angeles looking for good-evil, angel-devil half-breeds to ensure that "the balance" between God and Satan is properly maintained. An ancient artifact and the detective twin of a woman who committed evil-induced suicide (Rachel Weisz) factor into the plot, which is taken so seriously that you'll want to stand up and cheer when Tilda Swinton swoops down as the cross-dressing angel Gabriel and turns this silliness into the camp-fest it really is. The digital effects are way cool (dig those hellspawn with the tops of their heads lopped off!), so if you don't mind a juvenile lesson in pseudo-Catholic salvation, Constantine is just the movie for you! —Jeff Shannon, Amazon.com

Critics and controversy aside, The Da Vinci Code is a verifiable blockbuster. Combine the film's huge worldwide box-office take with over 100 million copies of Dan Brown's book sold, and The Da Vinci Code has clearly made the leap from pop-culture hit to a certifiable franchise (games and action figures are sure to follow). The leap for any story making the move from book to big screen, however, is always more perilous. In the case of The Da Vinci Code, the story is concocted of such a preposterous formula of elements that you wouldn't envy Akiva Goldsman, the screenwriter who was handed a potentially unfilmable book and asked to make a filmable script out of it. Goldsman's solution was to have the screenplay follow the book as closely as possible, with a few needed changes, including a better ending. The result is a film that actually makes slightly better entertainment than the book.

So if you're like most of the world, by now you've read the book and know that it starts out as a murder mystery. While lecturing in Paris, noted Harvard Professor of Symbology Robert Langdon (Tom Hanks) is summoned to the Louvre by French police help decipher a bizarre series of clues left at the scene of the murder of the chief curator, Jacques Sauniere. Enter Sophie Neveu (Audrey Tautou), gifted cryptologist and Sauniere's granddaughter. Neveu and Langdon are forced to team up to solve the mystery, and from there the story is propelled across Europe as it balloons into a modern-day mini-quest for the Holy Grail, complete with alternative theories about the life of Christ, ancient secret societies headed by historical figures like Leonardo Da Vinci, secret codes, conniving bishops, daring escapes, car chases, and, of course, a murderous albino monk controlled by a secret master who calls himself "The Teacher."

Taken solely as a mystery thriller, the movie almost works—despite some gaping holes—mostly just because it keeps moving forward at the breakneck pace set in the book. Brown's greatest trick might have been to have the entire story take place in a day so that the action is forced to keep going, despite some necessary pauses for exposition. Hanks and Tautou are just fine together but not exactly a memorable screen pair; meanwhile, Sir Ian McKellen's scenery-chewing as pivotal character Sir Leigh Teabing is just what the film needs to keep it from taking itself too seriously. In the end, this hit movie is just like a good roller-coaster ride: try not to think too much about it—just sit back and enjoy the trip. —Daniel Vancini, Amazon.com

Turning pressing environmental issues into the theme of a big summer blockbuster, you can’t say that director Roland Emmerich isn’t willing to take his chances. And while The Day After Tomorrow does ask you to suspend fair chunks of disbelief, it is both a spectacle and a worthwhile blockbuster to expend your time in front of.

Starring Jake Gyllenhaal and Dennis Quaid, The Day After Tomorrow is the silly-but-fun story of a new ice age arriving pretty much overnight. In the midst of it all is a father-saving-son tale, that takes little time to be reduced to the background in favour of an all-out special effects assault.

And what an assault. Criticise the story all you like, but as spectacle, The Day After Tomorrow has few equals. From extreme weather effects to the site of familiar landmarks under mountains of ice, the budget was clearly high, and it’s all there on the screen.

This is, of course, where the joy of high definition kicks in. The Blu-ray-driven, 1080p picture is simply stunning, and The Day After Tomorrow benefits heavily from it. As a film, it still has its flaws, but it’s still good fun, and it’s one mighty workout for your home cinema rig too. —Jon Foster