Thor: Ragnarok

This is a tasty, psychedelic treat of a film that comfortably sports its unique aesthetic like a snug-fitting duster. Throughout this disco ball, confetti, silly string celebration of a movie, you feel as if you are inhabiting an arcade game: flung about inside a cinematic pinball machine until you are giddy, in awe and more than a little nauseous.

Director Taika Waititi lends his much needed off-beat humour to the film, and fans of Hunt for the Wilderpeople or What We Do in the Shadows fans will be reassured that he hasn’t compromised his flair for visual gags and slick camera tricks in his switch to the mainstream.

Previous Marvel movies have tried so desperately to be gritty, with their lower saturation filters and quick jump-cuts, that they fall completely out of touch with the vibrant primary colour pulp-vibe of their comic book heritage. This film breaks that mould. It is refreshing to finally see a Marvel film that is unashamedly stylised, vibrant and loud, sunbathing on a recliner with a pink cocktail in one hand and fake Cuban cigar in the other. And yes, this is meant to be the most tragic film of the trilogy with the apocalypse heralding the destruction of Valhalla yada yada, but damn if it isn’t the most enjoyable Armageddon you’ve ever seen. You’ll never have been so happy to see buildings obliterated and soldiers savagely murdered. Thor: Ragnarok revels in revelry and exceeds in excess: with action sequences choreographed to Led Zeppelin’s ‘Immigrant Song’ or trippy trance tracks, this is an end of days that puts you in mind of a Norse disco where Odin has dropped acid.

The junk planet of Sakaar deserves a special commendation as it exhibits such great world-building that it makes the rest of the Marvel universe look like it was constructed on shaky foundations. It is stunningly realised, from beautiful junk monoliths to colourful gallimaufry of costumes, stylish anarchy and, last but not least, the suave and sexy portrayal of the Grandmaster by Jeff Goldblum.

Cate Blanchett is deliciously malicious as Hela the goddess of death, luxuriating in the role of cold villainess, she delivers her lines with steely precision perfectly blended with macabre wit. She is, quite simply, a joy to watch and rises above her fellow spandex-clad counterparts to become one of the highlights of the franchise.