How do you measure the success of a comedic film? Hilarity is such a subjective quality that it differs entirely from person to person. A truly great comedy, then, is one that can offer more than just jokes. Enter Sightseers, the latest work from Ben Wheatley, who has truly surpassed all expectations of what a comedy should be. It’s sweet, a little scary, delightfully surprising and totally endearing. Sightseers will have you smiling ear to ear and will give you far more than just the laughs.

This sweet little indie comedy, directed by newcomer Colin Trevorrow, is a rather slight but occasionally poignant film that has some interesting things to say about life, love and loss. But in never quite committing to its central concept, and thus squandering its true potential, Safety Not Guaranteed falls somewhat short of the mark.

Gathering dust in various stages of development hell since 1997, Gambit finally arrives on the big screen. From the off it’s clear Michael Hoffman’s remake of the 1966 caper is no spring chicken. A comic heist film so thoroughly undercooked and blushing with embarrassment, the only chicanery here is the evident self-deceit involved in slumming for a paycheck.

Romantic comedies have become such a chore to watch, such a cold, damp and schmaltzy mire to wade through these days that many of us imagine the prospect of yet another Love, Actually knock-off with complete dread. Enter Silver Linings Playbook, a story about two bi-polar personalities trying to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives. It’s romantic, it’s witty, and it’ll charm the pants right off you.

Mental is an oddball comedy with meaningful things to say about the proliferation of psychiatric diagnoses in today’s society. It maintains an interesting narrative on the latent craziness that exists in all of us, and when the comedy is derived from this rapport with the audience it is exceedingly satisfying to watch. On the other hand, the majority of the film is utter, utter wank. Mental is as stable as a schizophrenic, but ultimately you’ll be the one lobotomised.

Following the pitch-black Dogtooth, Yorgos Lanthimos draws back the curtain on some more theatre of the absurd with Alps. A group of people offer an unusual service, replacing deceased family and friends in an effort to ease the mourning process. When one of them takes her position too far, things start to get messy. Slow, deadpan and unflinchingly weird, Alps is cut from the same cloth as Dogtooth, but lacks any real bite.

I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know something about vampires I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know please please make it stop why why why why why why I don’t know I don’t know CGI devil baby no no no no no no no werewolves why why why oh god make it stop.

I, Anna features tremendous performances by its leads, but this is not enough to sustain the viewer through a lackadaisical and uninteresting plot. Initially intriguing but ultimately forgettable, the film is never as thrilling, meaningful or insightful as it would like to be. Although it calls itself Film Noir, I, Anna is somewhere closer to beige.

Crouching Dragon, Hidden Dagger. The House of Flying Tigers. It really doesn’t matter what you call them. Really you could change the title of this particular film to Flying Dragons..

On the surface, one expects My Brother The Devil to be yet another East London gang-banger affair, with the typical callous romanticising of violence and thuggery. In fact this film proves to be much, much more than that. With superb central performances, dynamic characters and decent cinematography, My Brother The Devil doesn’t quite do enough to be brilliant, but it certainly is an outstanding piece of British cinema.