Recently by Laura Sandy

It has been widely observed that Armando Iannucci's In the Loop has hit the cinemas with an almost spooky timeliness; the film seems so of-the-moment that one of its best gags has been piped to the post by Newsnight, of all things. Indeed, in the wake of the Jacqui Smith scandal that has been plastered over the newspapers in recent weeks, it is impossible for the audience's laughter not to be tinged with a certain knowingness when the hapless International Development minister Simon Forster (Tom Hollander) bemoans his fear that hotel porn "might turn up on the expenses bill".

Like the dutiful daughter that I am, on Sunday I took my mum to see Young Victoria. I didn't expect a huge amount; though the combination of big dresses, country houses and the royal family is meant to appeal to us girlies, usually it really doesn't work for me.

But (and I can hardly believe I am writing this) I actually thought it was pretty good.

I'm not a graphic-novel kind of girl. Despite having recently been persuaded that maybe graphic novels are not just comics for blokes who haven't grown up and are an art form in themselves (etc, etc.), somehow they are still just not for me. So maybe my spidey sense should have told me that to steer clear of Wes Syder's new epic, Watchmen. But, having been convinced of the quality of the original and remembering my curious affection for the Batman and Spiderman films (except that George Clooney one), I decided to give it a shot. Boy, was that a misjudgement...

Usually I'm not really a one for a film that has "potential Oscar-winner" running through it like a stick of rock but this year I have been served particularly well.

Okay, so there are a few- The Reader, in particular- that provoked my usual fist-chewing reaction (and I promise that isn't because I saw it after that Kate Winslet acceptance speech) and I have militantly avoided The Curious Case of Benjamin Button up till now.

My Dad is serious about films. He likes: 12 Angry Men, Ealing comedies, Charlie Chaplin and Truffant's 400 Blows. He doesn't like: historical inaccuracies, special effects of any description or Jim Carey.

This shaped my earliest film experiences; unlike most 80's kids my memories are of Dorothy's ruby slippers, Dick Van Dyke's dodgy cockney accent and a strange, largely silent French film about a boy losing a red balloon, rather than of Mannequin and Mr. Miyagi.