THE KILLER ****

 There was a time when a David Fincher movie was something of an event but not any more. Movies like "The Game" and "Panic Room" were disappointments although he made a sterling comeback with "The Social Network" and showed he could still turn out a Grade A thriller with "Gone Girl". "Mank", however, for all the arty posturings, seemed like a step backward. Also he hasn't been particularly prolific with only twelve features in the last thirty years and, taken on face value, there was no reason to expect "The Killer", his first film in three years, would be anything but another disappointment, just another addition to the 'assassin-for-hire' genre but Fincher's never been a man to be discounted and this might just be the movie that will redeem him. It's certainly the best thing he's done since "The Social Network", a visually stunning, funny, exciting and hugely enjoyable entertainment and Fincher directs it magnificently.

Perhaps to work as well as it does, of course, it needs the right actor at the centre and in Michael Fassbender it certainly has that. With his granite features Fassbender is the perfect man to play an assassin...or James Bond, take your pick. The problem is he constantly looks like an assassin whether he's aiming a gun at someone or buying a pint of milk which, of course, may be no bad thing if you're dealing with the bad guys. The plot is the old chestnut of the hit that goes wrong meaning the hitter then becomes the target. We've seen it a hundred times before but seldom done with this much brio or style.

Fassbender is never off the screen which means any other actors of note, (Arliss Howard, Charles Parnell, Tilda Swinton), are merely satellites buzzing around him but they do what they have to do very nicely and in Swinton's case quite brilliantly while Andrew Kevin Walker's quick-witted and genuinely funny script from Alexis Nolent and Luc Luc Jacamon's illustrated novel tackles all the cliches head on, often pulling the rug away when we least expect it. In an age when so many movies look and sound just the like the one before it's a pleasure to find one as enjoyable and as original as this.

POSSESSOR no stars

 It certainly runs in the family though it could be said that nothing David Cronenberg did touched son Brandon's penchant for gore and sexual explicitness . Right from the start you need to have a strong constitution to watch "Possessor" without flinching. However, like his father, Brandon has a keen eye for a good image and whatever else you may say about "Possessor" it looks good, at least those bits of it that I saw; not being a fan of extreme gore I did shut my eyes several times.

The plot is a daft hybrid of sci-fi and 'assassin-for-hire' as Andrea Riseborough, through brain implant technology, (that's what it says on the synopsis), is able to inhabit other people's bodies turning them into disposable assassins. It seems like a clever idea though it never feels particularly original so it's left to Cronenberg's flashy direction of less than brilliant material to keep it together.

Unfortunately Cronenberg is more interested in shocking us than either entertaining or engaging us or indeed even keeping us up to speed, (maybe I just didn't pay close enough attention). Again like his dad he clearly has talent, making you wish he would apply it to something less silly than this. Jennifer Jason Leigh, Christopher Abbot and Sean Bean are also on hand but no-one in the cast is given the opportunity to break out of their limited, one-dimensional roles. Less yuckiness and less gobbledygook might have saved it but as it stands it's something of an offensive mess but at least one you are likely to forget five minutes after it's over.

SEQUIN IN A BLUE ROOM no stars

 The opening credits tell us that "Sequin in a Blue Room" is 'a homosexual film by Samuel Van Grinsven' which should be some kind of warning in itself. Any film that needs to trumpet itself as clearly as this one does also clearly feels the need to draw attention to itself and this one turns out to be an excruciatingly arty piece of gay soft porn as sixteen year old 'Sequin' cruises sex sites for casual one-off pickups leading him to the eponymous Blue Room, a 'no-talking, no-names' sex palace.

If it's Van Grinsven's intention to warn us about the dangers of cruising he obviously fails as Jay Grant's gorgeous cinematography makes it all look very enticing but neither is he interested in giving us any kind of story that we might engage with and apart from Sequin himself, (a pretty, prissy and far from likeable Conor Leach), there's really no one else in the film of any interest, (and even Sequin is a bit of a bore). If you're going to make a gay sex film at least make it sexy or provide a proper plot or characters we can get a handle on. Even at 80 minutes this becomes tedious very quickly.

A HAUNTING IN VENICE no stars

 No-one would deny that Kenneth Branagh is a talented man and, in the right role, is certainly a fine actor but he's no Olivier and he's certainly no Orson Welles but he seems to have the ego of both. He gave us a fine "Henry V" and then an elephantine, full-length "Hamlet" that almost put me off Shakespeare for life. Now it seems he's put the Bard to bed and decided that he's the best man to take on the mantle of Hercule Poirot but I forgot to mention that he's also no Ustinov, Finney or David Suchet.

His remakes of "Murder on the Orient Express" and "Death on the Nile" were both well below par and now he's turned his attention to an Agatha Christie novel not previously filmed. "A Haunting in Venice" is his version of "Hallowe'en Party" and it's just as tawdry as the others. To make matters worse this one lacks the star power we've become accustomed to in movies of this kind. Yes, there's last year's Best Actress Oscar winner Michelle Yeoh as a medium but basically that's it.

As for the rest there's Jamie Dornan acting, or perhaps not 'acting', like he would rather be home in Belfast while his "Belfast" son, Jude Hill, is once again cast as his son. Elsewhere Tina Fey, Kelly Reilly, Camille Cotton, Kyle Allen and a few other less than famous faces mug their way through as various suspects. The setting is a 'haunted' mansion in Venice, there's been a murder and once again we are back in a stationary Orient Express as Branagh locks everyone in until he's solved the case. A disaster that should never have seen the light of day.

KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON ****

 There are some directors whose every new movie is 'an event', a film we have to seek out and judge for ourselves even if the initial reviews have been less than enthusiastic. We must compare these new films with the director's previous work to see where it sits in the canon. Scorsese is clearly one such director and his gigantic "Killers of the Flower Moon", a marathon at around three and a half hours, is one such 'event'. In some circles it has been called a masterpiece and Scorsese's best film in decades. I don't agree with either of these assessments but it is certainly unmissable in its own right and a remarkable piece of cinematic storytelling.

Based on fact it's about the Native Americans of the Osage tribe who found themselves on oil-rich land making them among the richest people in the country, (even if they were still among the most discriminated against), and of how cattle baron William Hale, (Robert De Niro), their supposed friend and benefactor, sought to take their wealth from them even if it meant killing them off one by one.

However, "Killers of the Flower Moon" is not quite like a Scorsese picture; the pace is stately rather than kinetic and it's often more talkative than visual. There are a few of the director's trademark flourishes such as the customary tracking shots but they don't draw attention to themselves. This is very much a heavily plot-based film and it unfolds more like a novel than a film and one relying heavily on its cast.

The central roles are played by Scorsese regulars Leonardo DiCaprio and De Niro and newcomer Lily Gladstone. DiCaprio is the nephew returned from war, a heavy drinker and a weak-willed man, who will do anything for his uncle De Niro, including murder. He's a dour character and DiCaprio plays him dourly. There is no boyish charm on display, (even at age 48 DiCaprio still looks boyish), and while he is more than adequate in the role he still feels miscast, maybe a little too 'modern' for a man of the time. De Niro, on the other hand, is magnificent. In his case this really is his best work in decades, a smiling villain as finely drawn as any created by Shakespeare and he is surely a front runner for the Best Supporting Actor Oscar.

The most difficult role, however, is Gladstone's. She is the rich Osage woman that DiCaprio must woo, marry and dispose of. In the first half of the film she clearly has the upper hand, taking the initiative and using her sexuality to her advantage while in the second half she begins to fade into the background yet must continue to make an impression; she must remain the film's centre of attention and this Gladstone does beautifully.

Indeed, in a large cast there are several outstanding supporting performances from the likes of Jesse Plemons, John Lithgow, Scott Shepherd, Ty Mitchell and country singers Jason Isbell and Sturgill Simpson and they ensure the tale flows freely and never feels like its length. It may not be the best of Scorsese's films or the late masterpiece we might have been hoping for; it feels too 'matter-of-fact' and despite its length almost too constrained by the weight of its subject matter but it is still essential viewing, an 'event' movie worthy of the name. It also has probably the best last ten minutes of any movie you are likely to see this year.