Ahhhh Sunday. The day where pure, unadulterated Watching is, legally, the only thing any self-respecting human can do. Hang up those thoughts of productivity – they can wait till Monday. Settle down into your pants, get trailer happy, and figure out what you’ll be watching this week…

They’re remaking Footloose?! FOOTLOOSE?! Well, yes, but hear me out; you can put your pitchforks and capital letters away as they won’t be needed here. While ostensibly a classic, the original Footloose was no masterpiece, it wasn’t infallible, and it certainly does not constitute hallowed ground. Not that that stops director Craig Brewer from treating it thusly, Footloose knows exactly what it is: a contemporary feel-good film with an unusually rich heritage, and it’s all the better for it.

God, things are sexy, aren’t they? So many things that there are, and all of them sexy. Baths, cooking, pithy conversations in a descending elevator – all you need is Anne Hathaway, some improbably witty back and forth with a chiselled titaniMAN, and boom – fruitful flesh-grappling is in the air. Except, of course, that it never is. Not really.

Maria Maggenti fast-tracked by Lionsgate for Dirty Dancing writer off the back of roaring success of Monte Carlo

Think Superbad but with more singing.

This week saw the first teaser trailer for the last instalment of Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy, The Dark Knight Rises, and we here at Best For Film were…well, there was a feeling that we’d seen it all before. The gloomy Gotham-scape, mumbled dialogue, lots of shadows and buildings and shiny digital compositions. It’s slick, and it’ll probably turn out to be a good end to a so-far great trilogy, but a tiny part of us was thinking: “It’s not as good as Memento, is it?”. Still, Nolan isn’t the first indie director to be lured in by the lights and financial muscle of Hollywood, as this handy list will attest to.

Has he even written it yet?

Jesus Christ.

Because there’s nothing less attractive to a wet-lipped young maiden than a tattooed, pierced, bad-ass motorcycle demon with a past so tortured he like, can’t even talk about it (until he does). I always wondered what Beauty and the Beast would be like if, instead of good, it was like, really, really awful. Now I know.

Big Momma is back for a third joyless excursion into ‘let’s-all-laugh-at-the-silly-black-woman-because-it-doesn’t-count-as-racism’ territory, which now features a second ridiculous fat-suited goon – now with extra rapping!. I hope Martin Lawrence spends his evenings thinking about how he’d be more use to humanity as fertiliser, sobbing onto his immorally inflated bank statements.