Los Angeles cab driver Max (Jamie Foxx) has a dream: to end a decade’s drudgery, set up a limo-rental company, and find some time for himself in the Maldives. Then Vincent (Tom Cruise) starts trying, against regulations, to hire Max’s chauffeuring skills for the whole night. The temptation of fast money wins out, but the dream turns into a nightmare: his client’s on a killing spree, needs transport, and isn’t about to let Max go off telling tales.
Foxx is simply amazing here, stepping into the shoes of soul legend Ray Charles in this movie, directed by Taylor Hackford, that tells Charles' life story from childhood up till 1966.
Crack pilots Josh Lucas, Jessica Biel and Foxx are joined in formation by a gleaming new high-tech un-manned aircraft dubbed EDI – or Extreme Deep Invader. Cue yards of CGI fly-boy action – Top Gun for the digital generation?
Joe Wright, the director of Atonement, adapts Steve Lopez’s memoir of meeting and getting to know disturbed homeless musician Nathaniel Ayers (Foxx). Foxx’s performance is admirably unshowy.
Dreamgirls traces the fractious rise of a Supremes-like singing group from the American ‘chitlin’ circuit’ to worldwide stardom, a voyage that pushes aside big, brassy Effie White (Jennifer Hudson), the Dreams’ lead vocalist, in favour of skinny, feather-voiced Deena Jones (Beyoncé Knowles). It reserves singing and dancing for the stage until Jamie Foxx randomly bursts into verse while strolling down the street.
This is a meaty spaghetti western, heavy on the spicy sauce and ketchup and peppered with the sort of unforgettable touches only Tarantino could get away with. Foxx is Django, freed from a chain gang by German bounty hunter Schultz (Christoph Waltz), and on a mission to rescue his wife, Broomhilda (Kerry Washington). Only trouble is, Hildy is owned by moustache-twirling Mississippi slavemaster Calvin Candy (Leonardo DiCaprio), whose ugly reputation precedes him.
A seemingly mundane day for US President James Sawyer (Foxx) turns near-apocalyptic when hostile forces blow up the Capitol building and take over the White House. Fortunately, low-rung Secret Service agent John Cale (Channing Tatum) is on the premises. He quickly teams up with the more-resourceful-than-he-looks POTUS, and both of ’em start showing these unpatriotic bastards a bullet-riddled thing or two.
We find Spidey late for his high-school graduation (thanks, of course, to a truckload of stolen plutonium) and questioning whether he’s ready to go out into the big wide world of commitment and responsibility. But it’s not long before other, more life-threatening concerns arise in the form of Foxx’s recluse-turned-power-conductor Electro and Dane DeHaan’s childhood buddy-turned-spoilt rich kid Harry Osborn.
Annie (Quvenzhané Wallis) is a plucky New York foster kid who, by chance, becomes the live-in ward of an antisocial billionaire (Foxx, terrific as mayoral candidate Will Stacks). At first, Stacks is literally allergic to poor people – ‘germaphobic’ – but after singing some songs with Annie, he learns that the 99 percent might just be human after all.
In Baby Driver, Shaun of the Dead director Edgar Wright takes the car-chase action film – loaded with tyre squeals – and weds it to a cracking jukebox playlist. A getaway driver with dreams of going straight, Baby needs music to drown out the tinnitus-induced buzz in his head. Among the film's two-bit thieves and criminal masterminds, Foxx is the loosest cannon and Baby's most serious threat.