Remakes have become the scourge of a Hollywood system starved of creativity and imagination. No sooner has a subtitled film won critical plaudits than there are whispers of an English language retread. A reinterpretation of the Swedish coming of age story Let The Right One In, directed by Matt Reeves (Cloverfield) and re-titled Let Me In, opens in multiplexes this Halloween. Now it seems that British films simply aren’t good enough for audiences across the Atlantic because director Neil LaBute has remade the 2007 comedy of errors, Death At A Funeral, transplanting the action to a middle-class suburb of Los Angeles

Sex And The City 2 has been lauded as a slight on feminism, a betrayal of a TV series that inspired a generation of women, and a diamond-encrusted step backwards for independent ladies everywhere. But it seems that the negative press has failed to affect box office power. What’s the story here, then?

A couple of months ago, Matthew Vaughn’s hyperviolent Kick-Ass somersaulted over the graves of Watchmen and X-Men Origins: Wolverine, proving that comic book-inspired action movies can be every bit as smart and sassy as the cult pictorials they are based on. Director Sylvain White continues the good work with The Losers, an explosive romp based on the potty-mouthed DC Comics series written by Andy Diggle and illustrated by Jock.

T-Rex was right, the British love to boogie, and not just on a Saturday night. For the past two years, the winners of the top-rated ITV1 series Britain’s Got Talent have been dance acts George Sampson and Diversity respectively. BBC One and Sky1 have wooed viewers with rival shows So You Think You Can Dance and Just Dance in addition to old stalwart Strictly Come Dancing, and cinema audiences have got their groove on to Step Up, Stomp The Yard, Make It Happen and Fame. Directors Max Giwa and Dania Pasquini celebrate the inventiveness of UK street dance in the first live action feature film to be shot entirely in 3D outside of America.

Since his ultra-low budget 1994 debut, Clerks, writer-director Kevin Smith has forged his reputation and cult status with potty-mouthed comedies, which celebrate the unspoken bonds of friendship between men. No better is this exemplified that the misfit characters of Jay and Silent Bob, who wreak havoc in many of his films. Smith brings those same sensibilities to bear on the action comedy Cop Out, about a pair of NYPD officers on the trail of a stolen baseball card.

We love George Clooney. If there was ever a man who looks like he could build a log cabin using wood he chopped himself, mixing a martini at the same time, while wearing a tux with a perfectly crafted bow tie, it’s him. Seriously, which other actor could come back from the horror that was Batman & Robin to be one of Hollywood’s leading men? And if you don’t think that’s impressive, go ask Val Kilmer how life is treating him post Bruce Wayne duty.

She – the writer/performer that shot to fame on Saturday Night Live, before penning Mean Girls and super-hit TV show 30 Rock. He – initially noticed in his hilarious roles in Anchorman and Bruce Almighty, who went on to star in the American Office and The 40-Year-Old Virgin. How can it possibly go wrong? Well it doesn’t, of course. But that doesn’t mean it went totally right, either. Despite being an enjoyable romp, we couldn’t help but be a little disappointed in Date Night

Everything sells, if you know how to convince the public to dig deep into their wallets and purses. In these economically-challenged times when we should be saving not spending, the clamour for must-have goods – or goods we’ve been told are must-have – is as strong as ever. The Joneses is a timely satire about consumerism run rampant and the catastrophe that awaits a credit-driven society determined to buy now and pay later – much, much later.

For a film about the re-writing a political memoir, it’s rather ironic that the screenplay for Roman Polanski’s thriller should be one of its weaknesses. Characters are not fully formed in a script co-written by Polanski and Robert Harris, adapting his novel of the same name. Indeed, they are ciphers in a clunky and contrived plot that builds to a big reveal, which would be risible in less accomplished hands.

Whip It is to feminism what GPS systems are to driving: a voice confidently telling you you’re on the right road, whilst you can’t help but stare around wildly, wondering where the hell you are. Sexy, grubby and exciting to watch, Whip It is certainly a cut above your average chick-flick and we’re happy to roll their way, though we’re not totally sure where they’re taking us.