Community is a semi-zombie film with things to say about injustice, perhaps. Look out for Terry Bird, the security guard from Peep Show, who also produced this quite charming little foray into sink estate horror.

Sugar coated as “the new Twilight” (a preposterous decision by its PR team), Beautiful Creatures successfully manages to come out a hundred times better. I may be its key demographic (geeky girl seeks escapist fantasy) but I went in, fellow Twilight h8er, expecting the worst. I was turned. Combining likeable characters with a refusal to take itself too seriously, Beautiful Creatures is this year’s perfect Valentine’s day guilty pleasure.

A cluster of explosions and a lot of macho male bonding makes the fifth Die Hard film, A Good Day To Die Hard, look like the perfect addition to an extremely successful franchise. But thanks to director John Moore and writer Skip Woods, this is a forgettable addition to in a long line of hitherto legendary action films, doomed to disappoint fans and numb newcomers to the films accordingly.

Guillermo del Toro, the creative genius who brought you Pan’s Labyrinth, presents Mama; a chilling horror centred on the abandonment of two young children and the haunting consequences of their years alone in the wild. In comparison to other child-horror films, Mama packs a compelling storyline that keeps the film from sinking into a terrible cliché, turning Mama from a classic ghost story into a bizarre (and suitably del Toro) concoction of manic special effects and gripping cinema.

If you can get over the fact that Ralph is voiced by John C. Reilly (and not distract yourself with an internal showreel of Step Brothers), then Disney’s new 3D animation will blow your visceral senses. Set in a variety of different arcade game worlds, Wreck-It Ralph is the epitome of imagination and ingenuity; a modern classic for any kid’s shelf, especially a nostalgic adult gamers, if they can get through the sticky fudge of Disney values…

Shell is a sparse and uncompromising meditation on the problems and complications of the distances that can exist between people, both physical and psychological. It is a quiet, sombre and hypnotic piece of work as much about the environment its few characters inhabit as about the responses of those characters to their bleak and cold surroundings. Beautiful and terrifying.

Real life brothers Koki and Ohshirô Maeda star in this gentle, poignant film about the power of imagination and friendship, and the inevitability of growing up. Though a little slow in places, Hirokazu Koreeda’s film is an unusually powerful musing on the everyday joys and sadnesses of life, that delights in celebrating the small things. Drawing on the kids-on-a-quest theme at the heart of many child-centric films, Koreeda’s film is a far more subtle affair than your average Disney flick and, in the end, shows us that there are no easy solutions when it comes to the break down of a family.

The potential break-down of a marriage is rarely imagined as an area ripe for hilarity. To debut writer-director Dan Mazer, however, it’s rib-tickling gold. Those moments of crippling doubt as you wonder whether you’ve made a mistake; side-splitting! The anguish you feel over your attraction somebody else; uproarious! So, how does Mazer attempt to justify humour in the heartbreak? It’s easy, really – he simply writes protagonists so unlikeable that the audience never cares about them in the first place.

Aging thespian and hardnut Sylvester Stallone returns – whether we want him to or not – as the lead in Bullet to the Head; an action-packed thriller originally based on a French graphic novel. Better late than never, some might say. But is it? Is Bullet to the Head really a worthy return for our Rocky hero? Haven’t we seen it all before; the flying bullets, the incessant one-liners, the box-shaped man with the steroid-fuelled arms?

Following Tony Manero and Post Mortem, No forms the final chapter in Chilean director Pablo Larrain’s trilogy of films woven through Augusto Pinochet’s 17-year reign. Appropriately, it details the final moment of the dictatorship when the 1988 referendum yielded a victory for the opposition, and signalled the end of nearly two decades of oppression and violence. Telling the story from within the opposition, Larrain wryly addresses the fickle nature of politics via the hugely popular ‘No’ campaign, fought with slick advertising and broad appeal.