…this movie, despite being staunchly non-conformist, ends up, like Armstrong, a disappointing let down. What stops it in its tracks is the fact that we already know every detail about this case that there is to know. He is a public figure who made it a point to install himself in the consciousness of the world and there is very little Frears could have done with this story to make it fresh.

The film, pun fully intended, is an ungodly mess. What could have been an adventurous buddy comedy, an old-fashioned, Ben-Hur style epic, or a knowingly deranged B-movie ends up being an early contender for the worst film of the year. Too bad. Those trailers looked good.

The biggest achievement of Deadpool has to be the fact that it literally revives a genre that seems to be hitting saturation point. With Guardians of the Galaxy, this, and the upcoming Suicide Squad, we can be sure of one thing: No villain is going to beat this genre anytime soon. Like the comics on which these characters are based, the movies too will keep evolving.

Room is timeless. It will live forever, and in its immortality, it will continue to inspire generations after we are all gone. It is one of the best films of the new millennium and after its two transcendent hours, you emerge a changed person, one who has a new appreciation for the tiny miracles of life that are usually ignored. Room is an ephemeral moment in time and I will always remember it with fondness because there’s no way in hell I’m watching it again.

Mastizaade isn’t even a movie. For almost the entirety of its run time, it feels like getting screamed at by a pissed off plastic clown. It’s as pointless as a punctured condom. It’s as ghastly as a bad boob job. It’s like entering a lunatic pervert’s Internet search history tab and discovering only cake recipes. Let me repeat: Mastizaade isn’t a movie. It’s a bunch of sweaty sleazeballs exploiting Sunny Leone’s star power and straight up robbing your cash. Don’t let them.

For better or for worse, this film is like the characters it depicts. It’s like The Inbetweeners that way – crude, crass, foul, sweaty, occasionally funny and relentlessly perverted. It’s like that childhood friend of yours that kept giving you the most disgusting dares in a round of truth or dare, mocking you for not having the courage to follow through, a shameless grin on his face. And you know you did them all. You did all those despicable things. And then, you bowed your head in shame, just like you will when you’re done with this movie.

Russell is a genius. It usually takes just one great movie to be called that. He has three. Joy doesn’t work and that’s disappointing more than anything else.

Perhaps some day, a filmmaker with a real passion for the subject can come along and tell this tale the way it’s meant to be told. Till then, don’t watch The Danish Girl. Watch your phone run out of battery instead.

In the Heart of the Sea works as a survival drama, a rip-roaring adventure and even a monster movie, but what it really accomplishes, like Interstellar, is to remind us that once upon a time, humanity was unflinching in its thirst for discovery.

You walk out with the hope that they stick to their promise and end this nonsense already. You know the best jump scare they can come up with is announcing part 7. A part of you feels pity, but that part slowly dies as your eyes adjust to the sunlight.