Just as fashion is that which goes out of fashion, so the fresh is that which goes stale. Take the work of Wes Anderson. A trio of plaintive comedies (Bottle Rocket, Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums) established the director’s habits; a further two (The Life Aquatic, The Darjeeling Limited) exhausted them. As it turned out, Wes Anderson didn’t have to work very hard to make a Wes Anderson film – it was simply a matter of following the recipe.

As if in response to the increasing ease of being himself, Anderson has taken daring new steps in his latest film – or so he would have you believe.

Fantastic Mr Fox () is being offered as a big-screen adaptation of Roald Dahl’s popular tale. But look a little closer. The hasty vividness of Quentin Blake – Dahl’s long-time illustrator – makes way for fine-grained realism; Dahl’s grotesque energy has been removed like a stain. The whole thing is cleanly and jauntily American – even the British villains are a sop to film convention.

Stop-motion aside, this is the same old Anderson fare, right down to the herbs and spices: the arch, indie-Brecht titles; the bathetic, indie-Pinter dialogue; the road-tested third-act gear-change (impudent comedy gives way to life lessons). Familiar names (Owen Wilson, Jason Schwartzman, Bill Murray) are reduced to their familiar voices. Meanwhile, Randall Poster returns in the role of “music supervisor”, tirelessly ransacking old record shops and emerging with The Stones and The Beach Boys . A bittersweet social comedy set to 1960s pop songs: the Anderson imprint is unmistakable.

It works – just about. The film’s central gimmick, partly derived from Dahl’s book, is that despite genetic evidence to the contrary, foxes are human too – prone to myopia and insensitivity, dogged by marital and professional troubles. This gives Anderson a quirky new environment in which to tell his well-worn tale of a misfit family finding equilibrium. On the cusp of fatherhood, Mr Fox (George Clooney) trades in his job as a bird thief and becomes a newspaper columnist. But over time, the Robin Hood appeal of the old life proves too strong to resist. With the aid of a catatonic possum (Wallace Wolodarsky), he spends his nights thieving livestock and cider from local farmers. (Michael Gambon is on wonderfully bitter form as the evil Frank Bean.)

The thrill of the chase comes with a hefty emotional price-tag. Mr Fox’s crusade puts a strain on his marriage to Felicity (Meryl Streep), while his clumsy and effeminate son (Schwartzman) is crestfallen to discover that his athletic, sexually successful cousin (Eric Anderson) has been taken along for the ride. But it all works out in the end, with a generous sprinkling of forgiveness and understanding – as the Anderson formula dictates.

The film’s script (by Anderson and Noah Baumbach) is constructed around running gags that run out of steam. There is the foxes-as-humans gag – Mr Fox fretting about social status, and so on – the only variation to which is that foxes are sometimes fox-like after all; and there is the perfunctory parodying of film genres (the heist movie, the western, the war film). It is therefore a cause for gratitude that stop-motion enables Anderson to take his taste for finicky visual detail to new heights of pedantic precision. He has always displayed an auteurish fanaticism over prop, dress and decor, but now his vision is free from the constraints of material reality – every tooth and eyeball, every paw and whisker, is under his creative dominion. Whatever his nasty habits, this is a director who knows what he wants; stop-motion offers him an effective stimulus, still allowing the creation of sweetly impractical comic characters while flourishing infinite possibilities for the manipulation of mise-en-scène.

Swift and gripping: ‘Johnny Mad Dog’

From a fantastic fox to a mad dog, and a battle between species to a war between tribes. Shot in Liberia, Johnny Mad Dog (, Jean-Stéphane Sauvaire) takes places in an unnamed African country where rebel gangs are laying waste the capital. Johnny (Christopher Minie) is commander of the Small Boy Unit, a battalion of zealous and sadistic child soldiers. In the film’s first scene, a young hostage is held at gun-point and forced to kill his own father. And then things get really nasty.

The subject matter comes laden with geopolitical baggage, but the director Jean-Stéphane Sauvaire confines his attention to a handful of young characters. The film is swift and gripping but rarely flashy or titillating; sympathetic to its anti-heroes without ever slighting their victims. Minie is an addictive presence as the proud, unrepentant Johnny, a killer since the age of 10. Occasional acts of mercy, tenderness and affection, together with shots of the gorgeous Liberian landscape, remind us of what is at stake.

This week is unusually light on horror movies, not to mention horror sequels, remakes, sequel-remakes, remake-sequels, spoofs, spin-offs or knock-offs. Apart from the sixth instalment in the Saw series, which wasn’t screened for critics, there are just two vampire films to steer clear of.

Cirque du Freak: The Vampire’s Assistant (Paul Weitz, ) and Colin (Marc Price, ) both concern charmless adolescent males struggling to stay human after a nasty bite. But you wouldn’t confuse them.

Lame comedy: ‘Cirque du Freak’

Cirque du Freak starts with a pointless flash-forward, whereas Colin ends with a pointless flashback. Cirque du Freak is a lame comedy; Colin plays things painfully straight. The films also differ vastly in their origins and potential for success. Cirque du Freak is based on a series of children’s books – The Saga of Darren Shan – and features performances from accomplished actors (John C. Reilly, Salma Hayek, Willem Dafoe) who should fire their agents. Colin was made by a gang of unknowns in South London at roughly a millionth of the cost – £45 to the American film’s $70m. Which goes to show that there is both a cheap and a costly way of making a dismal vampire film.

The Goods: Live Hard, Sell Hard (, Neal Brennan) is produced by Will Ferrell (who appears in a small role), features contributions from comic performers who have made contributions to other films of roughly this kind (Knocked Up, The Hangover, Couples Retreat), and stars Jeremy Piven, currently stealing scenes from the leaden lead of HBO’s Entourage.

Piven plays Don Ready, a mercenary car salesman recruited by ailing dealerships. His latest assignment takes him to Temeleca, CA, where he overcomes a past trauma, finds his long-lost son, and learns the value of love and community. It should be emphasised, lest the film is mistaken for a mid-life melodrama or a pulse-taking on the US automotive industry, that there isn’t a single serious moment in its 90 minutes. The film is randy and rough-hewn even by the standards of its genre. I could claim to have found it tasteless and mirthless, but that would be a lie.