Ohh dear, it's that 11am Monday morning feeling - all you've done is drink coffee and reply to emails. So, let's be productive for a bit and tell you about the good and the bad films I've come across this weekend.

First up, the bad. If you haven't gone to see "The Devil Wears Prada" then it might be best not to buck the trend now. It's a feel-good, predictable "comedy" (I use the term only to apply to the script writers original intentions, not the end result) which sees a down-to-earth aspiring journalist heading off to work as a PA to the frosty editor in chief of a top fashion magazine.

Cue haw-haw moments as Andrea Sachs (Anne Hathaway) rushes about to fulfil the demands of Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), the inevitable depressing downturn, love interest (not with Streep, let me assure you) and trouble with the boyfriend. I'll let you guess the ending. The movie is a half an hour too long, at around 106 minutes you feel bored as we enter into the final act in Paris, and the only performance worth mentioning is, of course, that of Meryl Streep.

To be honest, I can think of better things to do with my evenings than watch another generic comedy with a big name attached to draw in punters. One of them is to watch a Sofia Coppola movie.

Daughter of Francis Ford, Sofia has only actually made three feature films of her own to date - "The Virgin Suicides" in 1999, "Lost in Translation" in 2003 and "Marie-Antoinette" in 2006, which I'm keenly awaiting the release of to these shores. "Lost in Translation" is obviously her best work, having won many high accolades, but before that came the less-awarded but not less-acclaimed "Virgin Suicides", which I picked up over the weekend.

Adapted from the book of the same name, the story is the narrated tale of the suicides of five sisters in a well-off part of Michigan suburbia in the 1970's; told from the point of view of the neighbourhood boys who became obsessed with them. It's an emotional, intriguing and sometimes quite funny look at teenage life, womanhood and the intricacies of suburbia (the nosey neighbours discussing the Lisbon family over chatty telephone calls and doorstep ruminations.)

What always amazes me about Sofia Coppola, apart from her quite unique style and a taste in music that I don't disagree with, is her ability to pull in half-decent casts. Bill Murray gave her the performance of his then waning (to be kind) career in "Lost in Translation", and Scarlett Johansson became the apple in everybody's eyes after it. "The Virgin Suicides" brings onboard James Woods in the role of Mr. Lisbon, the father and math teacher quite thoroughly whipped into place by his staunchly Catholic wife, Mrs. Lisbon (naturally) played by Kathleen Turner, who is quite probably the best casting in the movie.

Danny DeVito delivers his dry, smoking performance as a doctor looking after the youngest daughter, Cecilia Lisbon (Hanna Hall); Scott Glen plays the Irish priest reminding us of the important distinction between a "suicide" and an "accident" where Christian burial is concerned; and the movie is a great introduction to modern-day Hollywood starlets in Kirsten Dunst (Lux Lisbon) and Josh Hartnett (Trip Fontaine).

If you have any interest in decent, thought provoking movies; enjoyed "Lost in Translation" and intend to go and see "Marie-Antoinette" then this is an essential and enjoyable primer for Sofia Coppola's work.