Just, you know. Because.

Go make your own over here somewhere. Or just watch the trailer. 

As some of you may know, I recently went on a cross-country jaunt around Europe. Jaunting, for those who aren't uber nerds, basically involves jumping through space (and time). For those are who are uber nerds, I actually took the train.

Being the sad film-obsessive that I am, I naturally spent most of my time taking pictures of locations that were used in films, desperately trying to recreate a split-second of celluloid history. When that failed, I just took photos of films that were currently showing across the continent. Because that's what normal people do on their holidays (screw you Michael Palin).

So anyway, to celebrate the fact that I'm currently wasting my time not being in Europe (but naturally listening to the Indiana Jones theme non-stop whilst playing with big red marker pens), here's a jumbled mix of the two.

He's perhaps better known for being the American version of Ricky Gervais in the wonderful Stateside take on The Office, but Steve Carell also goes by the name of Phil Foster.

Married to Claire Foster, he's a husband whose life is a tiny bit stale. But when he tries to mix things up with a visit to a fancy restaurant, The Fosters get mixed up with a different world. A world of dodgy criminals, pole dancing, and a topless Mark Wahlberg.

What was it like leaving Scranton and shacking up with Tina Fey? Steve tells us all about making Date Night.

Well, it's that time of the political calendar yet again: the General Election is under way, just in time for Roman Polanski's political thriller from Robert Harris's book, The Ghost. And as Ewan McGregor this week sets about ghost-writing the memoirs of Pierce Brosnan's dodgy dealing Prime Minister, which movie candidate would you like to see running the country? If it's time for a change then who's your ATM of choice? It's time for a topical run-down of Hollywood's ballot sheet to see which PM crosses your box.

Somewhere, deep in Hollywood, a bevy of tattooed women are on the prowl. Not for a fight, as you might expect, but to snare themselves the husband of yet another beautiful, talented woman, beloved of the world and the critics. Yup, it seems infidelity comes in all guises, but the ultimate bedroom buzz-kill and marriage dampener appears to be success. On the part of the woman.

I speak, of course, of the mysterious ‘Best Actress Curse’, a mysterious phenomenon with a proud heritage dating back almost a century, which basically suggests that a statuette cancels out a marriage.

Katharine Hepburn is the curse's first notable victim, getting divorced from her husband the year after she won her first award in 1934. Ginger Rogers’ marriage suffered the same fate, and this potent curse continues into the modern day.