So it’s Monday. There’s not much in the way of any difference from last Monday, EXCEPT that this week, in a summer positively riddled with film festivals, kicking off in London is the Rushes Soho Shorts Festival! Coming from top-notch post-production company Rushes, the festival runs from 11 – 20 July, celebrating its 14th year.

A fly-on-the-wall glimpse into Katy Perry’s tour for the embarrassingly successful album Teenage Dream, what the film lacks in intellect and subtlety, it more than makes up for in heart, in a surprisingly engaging and charming look into the life of a popstar who is as starkly real as she is glossily artificial.

Expendables poster = parade of badmen.

New RoboCop? FINE, but only because Hugh Laurie’s in it.

Get cape. Wear cape. Vomit. That is the heroic mission of this week’s Friday Drinking Game – with Marvel churning out so many bloody brilliant superhero films lately, we at BFF Towers are all feeling pretty super ourselves for getting through it all. So super, in fact, that we would like to make like Tony Stark and have a bloody drink or five. As well as a leggy blonde of our choice.

So you’re drunk. You had one too many at Pizza Express or wherever, and now you’re in the cinema, and you are drunk. And you have FEELINGS. About this film. That you are watching. You may or may not swear at the screen, but whatever you say (you don’t remember in the morning) it is loud. You are swiftly removed from the cinema, and never permitted to return. Dark times. Enter Movie Interruption Screenings.

Easy listening, it ain’t. Bloody brilliant, it is.

We have reviewing skills that could be a nightmare for people like YOU, Liam. Consider that a threat.

Matt Damon’s new role in Elysium = Jason Bourne + aliens – crippling amnesia. Sounds DELIGHTFUL.

A genuinely disturbing, if slightly hokey psychological horror from the new iFeatures digital filmmaking scheme, In The Dark Half beats the odds predicted by its micro-budget to produce a sensitive and finely detailed exploration of a particularly toxic grief, the claustrophobia of small-town life and the sheer scope of the power of denial.