Poltergeist 2015 is a faithful tribute, produced with an eye to introducing the Steven Spielberg-produced original - and the phrase "they're here" - to a new audience.

It's worth being reminded, by this semi-fictionalised oral history, how unbelievably insolent and sordid "Underwatergate" was.

She's So Rad are a duo with wonderful musicality.

Five Game of Thrones fanatics - Russell Baillie, Karl Puschmann, Cameron McMillan, Chris Schulz and Robert Smith - share their thoughts on season five's sixth episode, Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.

Beau Monga is buzzy about a lot of things. He also thinks Willy Moon and Natalia Kills are good people: "We're all humans, we all make mistakes."

X Factor NZ put us out of our misery, crowning the talented but appallingly coached beatboxing singer Beau Monga its second and likely final winner.

Some strange decisions are being made at our biggest TV networks, and Paul Casserly isn't happy with them.

Like the many, ingenious vehicles it has roaring and exploding across the screen, Mad Max: Fury Road is a giant scrapyard jalopy, says Herald entertainment editor Russell Ballie.

Bizarre and iconic Kiwi-made TV brought comfort to the lounge, writes Alex Casey.

Who knows what happened on May 8, 1945 when Princess Elizabeth, the future Queen, and sister Princess Margaret went on to the streets of London to celebrate Victory in Europe (VE) Day.

It seems odd that Microsoft would bother upgrading State of Decay. Released in 2013,it was a middling zombie romp at best, with emphasis on stealth, survival and saving your mates over bloodthirsty brain bashing.

He's been a rapper, an actor, a porn movie mogul and, most recently, a terrible reggae singer called Snoop Lion. How many lives has this Dogg used up already? Six? Seven?

This exceptional album is named for Stevens' schizophrenic and drug-addicted mother who died in 2012 and the stepfather (married to Carrie for five years when the singer was a young boy) who was his stability and currently runs Stephens' record label.

The Backstreet Boys brought their 20th anniversary tour to Auckland. Joanna Hunkin says it was everything her 15-year-old self could have asked for.

Six Game of Thrones fanatics - Russell Baillie, Karl Puschmann, Sophie Ryan, Cameron McMillan, Chris Schulz and Robert Smith - share their thoughts on season five's fifth episode, Kill the Boy.

Thousands of music fans were treated to a heavy rock masterclass as veterans Alice Cooper and Motley Crue rocked Auckland's Vector Arena last night.

The budget is minuscule. There are no big names. Set pieces are delivered infrequently, and on a small scale. And if it's monsters you're after, there are precious few ghouls, goblins, ghosts or gremlins.

Pitch Perfect was hilarious, feel-good fun, and one of the surprise hits of 2012.

On the surface, one might say that Wilder Mind, the third album from the London quartet, has seen Mumford & Sons change from waistcoats and plaid to leather and denim. But that's a bit misleading really, a hokey oversimplification.

I enjoyed Morgan Spurlock's Super Size Me, even as I shrank from its outrageous contrivance.

Documentary that captures small-town, rugby-mad culture enthrals.

Australian film-maker Robert Connolly, known for Balibo and Underground: The Julian Assange Story, enters new territory with this sweet family drama about a 12-year-old boy from rural Western Australia.

TV3’s promotion of Jono and Ben to prime time has yet to pay off, writes Duncan Greive.

The second instalment of a two-parter, this play proposes a solution to the mystery of what happened to the play that matched Love's Labour's Lost by assuming it was (and then delivering) Much Ado About Nothing.

I have never been a big fan of comedians who resort to crude, shock humour, riddled with curse words that would make a sailor proud. So it was refreshing to get along to Wash Your Mouth Out, at Vault at the Q Theatre, in Auckland.

From the start, Sarah Chang seemed to project impatience rather than impetuosity, writes William Dart.

One of the later sequences in this heavily armed action flick takes place in a bullfighting ring. Yes, we're now in Spain. No kidding.

There's no use crying about TV remakes ruining the past, writes Karl Puschmann. You're much better off crying about them ruining the future.

The wonderful choristers of the American Boychoir School (is "boychoir" even a word?) in Princeton, New Jersey, are the heart and soul of this production. But all the star power at the top of the bill cannot save a sentimental paint-by-numbers film.