Police, Adjective is the latest in what we Brits would call “Romanian New Wave Cinema”. However, director Corneliu Porumboiu would dismiss us in true Eastern European fashion, perhaps by waving a shawl in our face and spitting “ptooey” at the phrase, which he calls “problematic”. Regardless of genre, Police, Adjective (winner of the Jury Prize at the 2009 Cannes Film Festival) is the antithesis of a cop film, replacing running about with batons with endless trudging round Eastern Europe in the same old jumper.

It was only a matter of time before Slash got involved with the movies. I just thank God it wasn’t a cameo role in Austin Powers. But this is good. He’s only gone and started up his own horror movie production company. TREAT!

Hyper Japan, a three day “pop culture” event made its way to The Old Truman Brewery, Brick Lane last weekend. Imagine all things Japanese under a London roof; food, art, gaming, fashion and technology (I saw my first 3D telly!) and you’ve got something a bit like it. But I had no time for Japanese tomfoolery, I was there with a purpose. So I tore myself away from the manga illustrators and Japanese fashion show, slapped on my film hat and went to be wowed (and a bit weirded out) by the joy and absudity of anime.

All parents have a list of films they don’t want their children to see. Mother and Father would rather not put up with the aftermath; nightmares and potential bed-wetting. But get over it Ma and Pa, what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. Note to Chloe Moretz’s mum, if your precious child is hard enough to play a killer vampire, a bit of horror ain’t gonna hurt. So unchain the telly, if you please.

After all the boycotting and burning regarding The Hobbit, the Prime Minister of New Zealand has offered to intervene in the dispute between Peter Jackson and an actor’s union before he ups sticks and ships the whole production off to deepest, darkest Eastern Europe.

After the “joy” Mamma Mia brought (some of) us in 2008, it was only a matter of time before someone else jumped on the “jukebox musical” concept. Thank your lucky stars it’s not Justin Bieber. So instead of the heartache of a fifteen year old, prepare yourself for a soundtrack concerned with all things good; the beach, cars and romance. Oh, Beach Boys, you sure know how to make a girl feel special.

You know the Cravendale adverts? You know, the stop-motion animation where a cow, a pirate and a cyclist all live together, living off milk and competing in musical statue for the last glass? Well, picture a feature length film in that style, in French and with more imagination then you could use to power the whole of Whoville and you’ve got the gloriously absurd and playful A Town Called Panic.

After the major flop (in my eyes) that was Eat Pray Love, Julia Roberts is all set to star opposite the numerous award winner, Meryl Streep. Deserved? Hmm, I’ll have a think about it.

Imagine that all that was once gold has turned to rusty iron. Yeah, it’s bad, but most of us have too many responsibilities and not enough in the bank, to just go swanning off for a year. But say if you were an unhappy, attractive American woman with money to spare who longs to “marvel at something”, then you probably wouldn’t find yourself laying about in your pjs, picking fluff out of your bellybutton. Most likely you would go galavanting off into the sunset. Puh-lease. Come back to the real world, Julia Roberts.

How do you judge the greatest horror film ever made? Is it how near you come to running out the room, sweating? Is it the intensity of the nightmares that follow? Or is it the film that sparks off agorophobia? If that is the criteria, then Big Momma’s House gets my vote.