Skyline

Skyline is one of those movies that take you on a cinematic journey via a gradual shift in tone so subtle you'd be hard pushed to pinpoint the moment at which it begins to occur. When the film opens, Skyline is a ploddingly rubbish alien invasion movie; you sit there wondering how something with a script this childlike got made. But by the time it finishes, Skyline is a hilariously rubbish alien invasion movie and you're laughing in disbelief. This is problematic, because fans of films "so good they're bad" have to sit through a genuinely crap first two-thirds to get to some juicy third act hokum that is in all honesty probably not worth the wait.

With a classic creature feature like The Blob, audiences thrilled to charismatic Steve McQueen battling an endearingly underwhelming monster. Skyline reverses this proposition. Courtesy of sibling directors The Brothers Strause, who've created effects for all sorts of huge films from Benjamin Button to Avatar, we're treated to whizz-bang visuals, while lead actor Eric Balfour and other nuanced performers of equal calibre showcase their acting range. There's nothing these thespians can't do: unsympathetic panic, unconvincing terror, unlikely line-readings - all the crown jewels of straight-to-video horror acting twinkle brightly in this ensemble's illustrious stewardship.

Not that the cast can take all the credit for the genius of Skyline: Olivier would had have to have worked hard to divert us from the movie's manifold 'you what?!' moments, which progress from mildly irritating to so full-on ridiculous that you can't help but pay grudging tribute to the team of monkeys who worked industriously for several hours to produce this script.