First released in 1984, Footloose now enjoys the same sort of semi-ironic nostalgic cachet as John Hughes' contemporary schlock-fests about angst-ridden teens with silly hair. This is partly due to the fact that, as breathtakingly predictable kids-against-the-squares romps go, it's really pretty tolerable, but it's mostly because of the soundtrack. The songs that appear in the film—notably Kenny Loggins' infectiously vapid title track, and gale-force screecher Bonnie Tyler's excruciating "Holding Out for a Hero"—are possessed of an awfulness so monolithic that they have transcended their era and become reliable floor-fillers at 80s nostalgia discos all over the western world.

The plot, such as it is, sees the eerily androidal Kevin Bacon playing a hip rock & roll youth from the big city rebelling against the strictures of the conservative small town in which he finds himself living. Inevitably, he falls for the daughter of his nemesis, the local preacher (the latter, it has to be said, is played with some aplomb by John Lithgow, who very nearly wrings depth from a character otherwise straight out of the colour-by-numbers guide to movie-making). Inevitably, there are some dance sequences. Inevitably, the kids win out, and the grown-ups realise that maybe they aren't so bad after all.

On the DVD: Footloose can be watched on disc, should you so desire, dubbed in German, Spanish, French or Italian. There also subtitles available in pretty well every European language, as well as Arabic, Hebrew, Russian and Turkish. Other than that there are no extras. —Andrew Mueller

Crystal Liu, Ye Xiaokeng, Jackie Chan, Ngai Sing, Yifei Liu Director: Rob Minkoff

When it was released in 1994 Four Weddings and a Funeral quickly became a huge international success, pulling in the kind of audiences most British films only dream of. It's proof that sometimes the simplest ideas are the best: in terms of plot, the title pretty much says it all. Revolving around, well, four weddings and a funeral (though not in that order), the film follows Hugh Grant's confirmed bachelor Charles as he falls for visiting American Carrie (Andy McDowell), whom he keeps bumping into at the various functions.

But with this most basic of premises, screenwriter Richard Curtis has crafted a moving and thoughtful comedy about the perils of singledom and that ever-elusive search for true love. In the wrong hands, it could have been a horribly schmaltzy affair, but Curtis' script—crammed with great one-liners and beautifully judged characterisations—keeps things sharp and snappy, harking back to the sparkling Hollywood romantic comedies of the 30s and 40s. The supporting cast, including Kristin Scott Thomas, Simon Callow and Rowan Atkinson (who starred in the Curtis-scripted television show Blackadder) is first rate, at times almost too good: John Hannah's rendition of WH Auden's poem "Funeral Blues" over the coffin of his lover is so moving you think the film will struggle to re-establish its ineffably buoyant mood. But it does, thanks in no small part to Hugh Grant as the bumbling Charles (whose star-making performance compensates for a less-than-dazzling Andie MacDowell). Though it's hardly the fault of Curtis and his team, the success of the Four Weddings did have its downside, triggering a rash of far inferior British romantic comedies. In fact, we had to wait until 1999's Notting Hill for another UK film to match its winning charm—scripted, yet again, by Curtis and starring Grant. —Edward Lawrenson

Frequency is really two different—though inextricably linked—movies. First, the emotional drama of a father and son reunited after 30 years of separation. Then there is a science fiction thriller, in which a couple of chance solar storms, occurring exactly 30 years apart, can provide the agency through which the father and son can communicate using the very same ham radio in parallel time frames of 1969 and 1999. The son is John Sullivan (Jim Caviezel), a cop, and his father is Frank (Dennis Quaid), a firefighter who died on the job when John was six, which just happens to be tomorrow for Frank when he and his now-adult son begin talking across time. This is great for John, because now he can warn his dad about the upcoming fire and avert the catastrophe that left him fatherless for most of his life. Accomplishing this gives John new memories of his life with Dad, but unfortunately alters the course of a serial killer, with tragic effect on John's family history. Since John is a cop, and the case he's working on turns out to be the same unsolved case from 30 years before, he and his father work together over the ham radio to solve the case and hopefully avert the tragedy that befell their family. Time-travel stories have always been problematic, demanding either an extra degree of credulity on the part of the audience or an extra level of explanation on the part of storytellers, which is invariably cumbersome. Frequency handles the troublesome time paradoxes by having John explain how, having altered his past, he now experiences both timelines, as if he's had two pasts that converge in his present. And as changes continue to be wrought in John's past, we see him becoming more and more confused. No doubt the audience can sympathise, at least those of us who try to follow the ramifications of the rapidly accruing time fractures. Luckily, the bond between father and son is so strongly realised in the deeply felt performances of both Caviezel and Quaid that you don't even need to consider the science fiction elements in order to enjoy the film. But if you can suspend your disbelief long enough to allow for the possibility of time shifts, you will have a far richer experience. —Jim Gay, Amazon.com

Set in the year 3000, Futurama is the acme of sci-fi animated sitcom from Simpsons creator Matt Groening. While not as universally popular as The Simpsons, Futurama is equally hip and hilarious, thanks to its zippy lateral-thinking contemporary pop cultural references, celebrity appearances (Pamela Anderson and Leonard Nimoy are among a number of guest stars to appear as disembodied heads in jars) and Bender, a distinctly Homer Simpson-esque robot. Part of Futurama's charm is that with decades of sci-fi junk behind us we've effectively been living with the distant future for years and can now have fun with it. Hence, the series stylishly jumbles motifs ranging from Lost in Space-style kitsch to the grim dystopia of Blade Runner. It also bridges the gap between the impossible dreams of your average science fiction fan and the slobbish reality of their comic reading, TV-gawping existence. Groening himself distinguishes his two series thus: "The Simpsons is fictional. Futurama is real."

The opening series (premiered in 1999) sees nerdy pizza delivery boy Fry transferred to the 31st century in a cryogenic mishap. There, he meets the beautiful, one-eyed Leela (voiced by Married with Children's Katey Sagal) and the incorrigible alcoholic robot Bender. The three of them join Fry's great (x30) nephew Professor Farmsworth and work in his intergalactic delivery service. Hyper-real yet strangely recognisable situations ensue—Fry discovers he is a billionaire thanks to 1,000 years accrued interest, Leela must fend off the attentions of Captain Kirk-like Lothario Zapp Brannigan, and Fry accidentally drinks the ruler of a strange planet of liquid beings. —David Stubbs

On the DVD: As with the earlier Fox release of The Simpsons, Season 1 this otherwise excellent three-disc set is let down by clunky menu navigation. There are way too many copyright warnings, no "Play All" facility, and you have to click back and forth to begin each new episode or find the additional features. By way of compensation, the menus look great and there's a goodly selection of extras on each disc. The entertaining commentaries are by Matt Groening and various members of his creative team, including producer David X Cohen and John DiMaggio (the voice of Bender) and Billy West (Fry). There are a handful of deleted scenes for certain episodes, plus the script and storyboard for the very first episode and an interactive stills gallery. The 4:3 picture is pin-sharp as is the Dolby 2.0Surround.—Mark Walker

Matt Groening's second series of the 31st century sci-fi sitcom Futurama maintained the high scripting standards of the first as well bringing improved digital animation. Couch potato Fry now seems thoroughly reconciled to his new existence, transported 10 centuries hence to "New New York" and working for Professor Farnsworth's delivery service. He's surrounded by a cast of freaks, including the bitchily cute Amy (with whom he has a romantic brush) and Hermes, the West Indian bureaucrat. Most sympathetic is the one-eyed Leela (voiced by Katey Sagal). Like Lisa Simpson, she is brilliant but unappreciated; she finds solace in her pet Nibbler, a tiny creature with a voracious, carnivorous appetite. By contrast, Bender, the robot, is programmed with every human vice, a sort of metal Homer Simpson with a malevolent streak.

In one of the best episodes, Bender is given a "feelings" chip in order to empathise with Leela after he flushes Nibbler down the toilet. Elsewhere, Fry falls in love with a Mermaid when the team discover the lost city of Atlanta, Fry and Bender end up going to war after they join the army to get a discount on gum, and John Goodman guest stars as Santa Claus, an eight-foot gun-toting robot. Brimful with blink-and-you'll-miss-them hip jokes (such as the sign for the Taco Bellevue hospital) and political and pop satire, Futurama isn't a stern warning of things to come but rather, as the programme-makers put it, "a brilliant, hilarious reflection of our own materially (ridiculously) over-developed but morally under-developed society."

On the DVD: Futurama's four-disc package presents the show in 4:3 with a Dolby Digital soundtrack. Among the many extras here are audio commentaries, storyboards, trailers, mock ads for "Soylent Chow" and "Human Rinds" and deleted scenes, including one from "Bender Gets Made" in which he seeks to evade the Robot Mafia by changing his identity. —David Stubbs

Good news, everyone, the third series of Futurama is just as funny as ever—irreverent, boundlessly inventive, warmhearted and chock full of in-jokes, sight gags and fleeting references to all manner of pop culture icons and obscure genre classics. In fact, if the show has a problem it's this very fecundity: it's all so lovingly crafted that scarcely a frame goes by without something both funny and clever going on: when a horse wins a race by a quantum fraction, Prof Farnsworth fulminates "You changed the result by observing it!"

Recurring minor characters (Elzar the chef, the robot mafia, the mutants in the sewers) pop up unexpectedly throughout, providing another wink to dedicated fans; like Red Dwarf, this is a show that loves the genre it sets out to spoof. Shame, then, that the show has had a troubled broadcast history and never quite found the mainstream appeal of its stablemate The Simpsons.

This year, Fry and the Planet Express team find themselves stranded on a planet of unfeasibly large women ("Amazon Women in the Mood"), standing in for psychotic Robo-Santa ("A Tale of Two Santas", with John Goodman reprising his evil robot) and variously falling in love with each other and sundry other humans, aliens, man-bots, fem-bots, virtual reality constructs and even the Planet Express ship itself.

On the DVD: Futurama, Series 3 comprises 22 episodes on four discs (see below for complete episode list). As with previous series DVDs the animated menus are a treat and there's a selection of bonus features including deleted scenes, storyboards, selected episode commentaries, animatics, "How to draw" tips and more. Best of all, though, each disc now has a "Play All" facility for the first time. Sheer heaven. —Mark Walker

No more good news everybody—this fourth series of Futurama is the show's last. By turns frenetic and far-sighted, Matt Groening's futuristic comedy provided belly-laughs for self-confessed SF nerds, but somehow failed to connect with a broader audience, even though it was often funnier and sharper than stablemate The Simpsons. So now bid farewell to the Planet Express team—Fry, Leela, Zoidberg, Bender, Amy, Hermes, Prof Farnsworth—as well as to kindly Kif, cloned Cubert, megalomaniac Mom, mutants in the sewer, the cast of robo-sitcom All My Circuits, swashbuckling space lothario and William Shatner wannabe Zapp Brannigan, Elzar the four-armed chef, and all the other characters that made Futurama such a unique experience.

This fourth and final year has all the elements that fans enjoyed so much—but also those elements that partially explain its cancellation. Recurring characters are great if you've watched the show before, as are the in-jokes; and the many parodies of classic science fiction are fine for the initiated, but risk leaving other viewers out in the cold. The show's strengths and perceived weaknesses are exemplified in the episode "Where No Fan Has Gone Before", in which the original cast of Star Trek play themselves: hilarious for Trekkers, but not really for anyone else. Elsewhere we find Leela discovering her real parents aren't aliens at all but in fact live in the sewers; Kif getting pregnant; Fry discovering the fossilised remains of his faithful pet dog; and Bender being converted to steam power. Despite some ups and downs, it's still the funniest animated show on TV. Those responsible for cancelling it can bite my shiny metal …

On the DVD: Futurama, Series 4 DVD box set includes a "Play All" function on each disc. Multifarious extras include cast and crew commentaries, deleted scenes, animatics, galleries and Easter eggs. —Mark Walker

Confidently conceived and brilliantly executed, Gattaca had a somewhat low profile release in 1997, but audiences and critics hailed the film's originality. It's since been recognised as one of the most intelligent science fiction films of the 1990s. Writer-director Andrew Niccol, the talented New Zealander who also wrote the acclaimed Jim Carrey vehicle The Truman Show, depicts a near-future society in which one's personal and professional destiny is determined by one's genes. In this society, "Valids" (genetically engineered) qualify for positions at prestigious corporations, such as Gattaca, which grooms its most qualified employees for space exploration. "In-Valids" (naturally born), such as the film's protagonist, Vincent (Ethan Hawke), are deemed genetically flawed and subsequently fated to low-level occupations in a genetically caste society. With the help of a disabled "Valid" (Jude Law), Vincent subverts his society's social and biological barriers to pursue his dream of space travel; any random mistake—and an ongoing murder investigation at Gattaca—could reveal his plot. Part thriller, part futuristic drama and cautionary tale, Gattaca establishes its social structure so convincingly that the entire scenario is chillingly believable. With Uma Thurman as the woman who loves Vincent and identifies with his struggle, Gattaca is both stylish and smart, while Jude Law's performance lends the film a note of tragic and heartfelt humanity.—Jeff Shannon

Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis wrote the script, but Bill Murray gets all the best lines and moments in this 1984 comedy directed by Ivan Reitman (Meatballs). The three comics, plus Ernie Hudson, play the New York City-based team that provides supernatural pest control, and Sigourney Weaver is the love interest possessed by an ancient demon. Reitman and company are full of original ideas about hobgoblins—who knew they could "slime" people with green plasma goo?—but hovering above the plot is Murray's patented ironic view of all the action. Still a lot of fun, and an obvious model for sci-fi comedies such as Men in Black. —Tom Keogh, Amazon.com

You wouldn't think a movie could look like a Vermeer painting, but Girl with a Pearl Earring is filmed with an amazing range of luminous glows that evoke the Dutch artist's masterworks. Of course, it helps that much of the movie focuses on Scarlett Johansson (Lost in Translation, Ghost World), whose creamy skin and full lips have a luminosity of their own. Johansson plays Griet, a maid in the household of Johannes Vermeer (Colin Firth), who finds herself in a web of jealousy, artistic inspiration, and social machinations. Though the pace is slow, Girl with a Pearl Earring genuinely conveys some sense of an artist's process, as well as offering many chaste yet sensual moments between Firth and Johansson. Also featuring Essie Davis as Vermeer's bitter wife and Tom Wilkinson (In the Bedroom) as a wealthy patron with eyes for Griet. —Bret Fetzer

Ridley Scott's glossy historical epic Gladiator revitalised the classic sword 'n' sandal genre, bringing both a modern pop-culture sensibility and state-of-the-art computer-generated special effects to what had seemed like a worn-out formula. Essentially a remake of Anthony Mann's stodgy 1964 Fall of the Roman Empire, Gladiator also borrows heavily from Saving Private Ryan in its stunning opening sequence, and employs Ridley's brother Tony Scott's rapid-fire editing style for the remarkably staged Colosseum fights. The overall effect is a hugely impressive but emotionally empty spectacle complemented by Hans Zimmer's bestselling but derivative score.

Russell Crowe cements his star status with a brooding, muscular performance helped along by lots of pithily quotable mock-Shakespearean dialogue. But Crowe's Maximus, along with everyone else in the film, is a disappointing two-dimensional stereotype: there's also the ridiculously melodramatic villain (Joaquin Phoenix), the old flame who's still in love with her hero (Connie Nielsen) and the trusty companion (Djimon Hounsou—who seems stuck in these roles). Richard Harris lacks the gravitas to convince as the philosopher-king Marcus Aurelius, and only Oliver Reed, in his very last film, brings some depth to his world-weary ex-gladiator. Still, if Scott's film lacks the profundity of Ben-Hur, Spartacus or even Cleopatra, it remains a kinetic, exciting thrill ride that gives us some sense of what it must have been like to fight and die with a gladius in hand.

On the DVD: Gladiator's two-disc set quickly became a must-have on its first release and remains one of the absolute essential DVD purchases. It set the standard both for picture and sound quality (Dolby 5.1 or DTS) as well as providing a second disc fully loaded with excellent special features. Scott's audio commentary is on the first disc, and the second has documentaries about both the history and the film, deleted scenes, storyboards, hidden "Easter Eggs" and more. —Mark Walker

Perhaps it didn't ignite the box office in quite the way it'd been hoped, but that's little reason to pass over the qualities of The Golden Compass now it arrives on DVD. Based on the Phillip Pullman novel His Dark Materials—itself the start of the Northern Lights trilogy, the film isn't without a few problems, but emerges as a quality adaptation.

And you certainly can't fault The Golden Compass for sheer ambition. The story, for those new to the series, is primarily that of 12-year old Lyra, who is in search of her friend who has been kidnapped. Naturally, this proves to be quite a challenging adventure, not least because it's through Pullman's vividly imagined world, crossing dimensions as Lyra travels. The film, while toning down and fiddling with some elements of the source material, stays quite close to the book, and it proves to be a good, if not Lord Of The Rings-standard, adaptation.

What helps The Golden Compass, on top of the strong effects work and scope of the production, is a solid cast, featuring the likes of Daniel Craig, Nicole Kidman and Dakota Blue Richards. And it certainly whets the appetite for the next instalment in the series. Whether the muted box office returns put pay to that remains to be seen: for now, at least, The Golden Compass is a good, solid family movie that's easy to enjoy. —Jon Foster

Hit man Martin Q Blank (John Cusack) is in an awkward situation. Several of them, actually. He's attending his high school reunion on an assignment; he's got a rival hit man (Dan Aykroyd) on his tail; and he's going to have to explain to his old girlfriend (Minnie Driver) why he stood her up on prom night. Grosse Pointe Blank is an amiable black comedy, cowritten by Cusack and directed by Jonathan Demme protégé George Armitage (Miami Blues), has the feel of Demme's Something Wild and Married to the Mob—which is to say its humour is dark and brightly coloured at the same time. Cusack and Driver are utterly charming—as is the leading man's sister, Joan, who plays his secretary. (Cusack received an Oscar nomination for her next role, in In & Out.) Alan Arkin is also very funny as Martin's psychiatrist. —Jim Emerson

Decent, lighthearted and fully amusing slapstick is hard to come by these days, and 1993's Groundhog Day manages to also be genuinely wise about the human condition. All this and belly laughs too! Bill Murray stars as Phil, a bored, petulant news reporter, who is ordered to give his annual live report from Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania on February 2. Though desperate to get out of the one-horse town and the appallingly sentimental assignment, Phil finds himself reliving the same day over and over again until he finally mends his ways. The film takes an absurd situation and explores its every imaginable comic possibility. Because none of the other characters are aware that Groundhog Day is continually repeating itself, Phil goes through a repertoire of responses, from conniving lust for Rita (Andie MacDowell) to gleeful nihilism to a Zen resignation worthy of Buster Keaton. Murray is reliably good, and this flick gives him a chance to be warm (though never fuzzy).

The world's most famous boy wizard dives straight into a darker and more thrilling magical adventure in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. It's practically the same set-up—something evil's afoot at Hogwarts; Harry and his pals must put it right—but fans of the books won't be disappointed. Director Chris Columbus, whose artistic licence is necessarily limited by the demands of adapting JK Rowling's phenomenally popular novel, does a spectacular job rendering Rowling's imaginary world: the production design and costumes are fascinating in their own right; such is the impressive attention to detail.

Daniel Radcliffe gives a more assured performance here as Harry, though he's not quite strong enough to carry the film without the aid of an excellent ensemble cast of experienced adults, notably a twinkly-eyed Kenneth Branagh. Of course, most viewers will already know what's going to happen as far as the story is concerned, so for them the pleasure in watching The Chamber of Secrets lies in the visualisation of Rowling's magical creations and the verve brought to the action sequences. It's fantastic fun for kids and a good excuse to regress back to childhood for the rest of us. —Laura Bushell

On the DVD: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets's first disc offers the film in all its fine widescreen (2.35:1) and surround-sound glory—it—it's a shame they didn't think of adding a commentary.

The second disc's special features are sparse compared to last year's release, most notably the games, which are simpler and dull in comparison to The Philosopher's Stone. Gilderoy Lockhart's classroom offers nothing magical, and the interviews with teachers and students offer only snippets of the actors' thoughts on their characters. Don't get over excited about the "Build a Scene" feature as, unfortunately, this is not a miracle of modern DVD technology, but a simple featurette. The real gem on the disc is a 16-minute interview with JK Rowling and Steve Kloves about the transfer from book to screen. —Nikki Disney

While many movie franchises slide as they reach their later instalments, the Harry Potter films just keep getting better. The latest, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is easily the darkest of the series to date, and it's also one of the best. For while it could easily have been little more than a holding film to set up the big encounters to come in the last two instalments of the series, it's to the credit of British director David Yates that the end result is really very good.

It finds Harry coming under suspicion from his wizarding colleagues, who don't believe his claims that the evil Lord Voldermort has returned. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix thus finds its title character on the backfoot for much of its running time, with a select band who firmly believe his story, and very powerful figures who don't.

Where the movie of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix excels though is in its three trump cards. Number one is a far tighter script than we're used to with Potter films, which, combined with trump card number two—the aforementioned David Yates behind the camera—cuts much of the slavish loyalty to the text away in favour of a film with real momentum. The third, and best, card though is the casting of Imelda Staunton as Professor Dolores Umbridge, who simply flies away with every scene she's in. It's a superb performance, and the film is poorer whenever she's not on screen.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is not a film without a few problems, certainly: it's a fair criticism that not too much actually happens, and one or two bits feel superfluous. But it overrides its problems with ease, to emerge as a compelling, highly enjoyable family film, which will leave you salivating for the Christmas 2008 release of movie number six in the series. —Simon Brew

To try and please all the fans of JK Rowling's novel was a challenge that the makers of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone met head on. The result of their efforts is one of the most lavish, beautiful and magical cinematic treats to hit our screens in years. Director Chris Columbus and screenwriter Steven Kloves (thankfully with the help of Rowling herself) prove that although you can't translate everybody's reading of this much-loved book onto the cinema screen—maybe Fluffy was a bit more Fluffy in your imagination or Hagrid (superbly played by Robbie Coltrane) a little more giant-like—it is nevertheless possible to transfer Harry's adventures with fidelity as well as superb energy and excitement.

If there is a downside it's that the performances of the child leads tends to verge on the Sylvia Young-tastic in places. Nonetheless, the three young stars are both likable and watchable, showing great potential to grow into the parts as the adventures continue. The main disappointment is the substantial cutting of the ghost scenes and what promised to be a fine comic turn by John Cleese as Headless Nick, though with more Potter films on the way the ghosts will surely assume their rightful prominence later. There are, of course, some areas of the story that may frighten smaller children—such as the entrance of the evil Voldemort—and undoubtedly for any true Potter fan that cinematic entrance cannot live up to the images created in their imagination. All in all, though, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone is what it should be: an unmissable treat for the whole family.

On the DVD: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone really is a magical experience in this lavish two-disc set. Disc one offers the film in all its surround-sound glory along with trailers and links to the Harry Potter Web site, but, disappointingly, there's no commentary.

Disc two is where the real wizardry can be found, with a vast and beautifully designed selection of special features. Entering the Great Hall a mysterious voice invites you to explore and find the secret hidden within (though it's frustrating that in some cases you have to re-enter the Hall after viewing a feature). Various options let you tour around Harry's world: from Diagon Alley to a virtual 360-degree tour of Hogwarts. The interactive component is excellent, with real thought having been put into ensuring that, instead of just the standard behind-the-scenes stuff, there is material aplenty to keep children and adults alike entertained for hours. Throughout the emphasis is on the disc's educational value: yes there are insights to be had from the film crew, but it's in the Classroom where you will find the real precious stones! —Nikki Disney

"Widescreen" vs. "Full Screen"

Widescreen preserves the original theatrical picture ratio of the film (Panavision 2.35:1), which will appear in "letterboxed" format on a normal TV screen.

Full Screen (or "pan and scan") crops the theatrical picture to 4:3 ratio (i.e., 4 units wide by 3 units tall), which is the shape of a standard (non-widescreen) TV screen. There is no letterboxing, but up to a third of the original picture is lost.

Some movie-loving wizards must have cast a magic spell on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, because it's another grand slam for the Harry Potter franchise. Demonstrating remarkable versatility after the arthouse success of Y Tu Mamá También, director Alfonso Cuarón proves a perfect choice to guide Harry, Hermione, and Ron into treacherous puberty as the now 13-year-old students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry face a new and daunting challenge: Sirius Black (Gary Oldman) has escaped from Azkaban prison, and for reasons yet unknown (unless, of course, you've read J.K. Rowling's book, considered by many to be the best in the series), he's after Harry in a bid for revenge. This dark and dangerous mystery drives the action while Harry (the fast-growing Daniel Radcliffe) and his third-year Hogwarts classmates discover the flying hippogriff Buckbeak (a marvelous CGI creature), the benevolent but enigmatic Professor Lupin (David Thewlis), horrifying black-robed Dementors, sneaky Peter Pettigrew (Timothy Spall), and the wonderful advantage of having a Time-Turner just when you need one. The familiar Hogwarts staff returns in fine form (including the delightful Michael Gambon, replacing the late Richard Harris as Dumbledore, and Emma Thompson as the goggle-eyed Sybil Trelawney), and even Julie Christie joins this prestigious production for a brief but welcome cameo. Technically dazzling, fast-paced, and chock-full of Rowling's boundless imagination (loyally adapted by ace screenwriter Steve Kloves), The Prisoner of Azkaban is a Potter-movie classic. —Jeff Shannon

The Heathers are a clique of bitchy classmates in this dark comedy from 1989. The film itself was a good showcase for Winona Ryder, the Queen of Teen in the late 1980s, playing a high-school girl forced into the social world of "the Heathers", and Christian Slater, doing his early Jack Nicholson thing. While Ryder's character muddles over the consequences of giving up one set of friends for another, her association with the new boy in school (Slater) turns out to have deadly consequences. Director Michael Lehmann turned this unusual film into something more than another teen-death flick. There is real wit and sharp satire afoot, and the fusion of horror and comedy is provocative in itself. Heathers remains a kind of benchmark in contemporary cinema for bringing surreal intelligence into Hollywood films. —Tom Keogh, Amazon.com

The original BBC radio adventures of Arthur Dent (an ape-descendant whose anger at the apparently inexplicable destruction of his home planet Earth, situated in an obscure corner of the outer spiral arm of the galaxy, is expressed in frequent irritation at friendly automatic doors and vending machines) and his travelling companions, Ford Prefect (an itinerant towel-carrying hitch-hiker originally from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse), Zaphod Beeblebrox (the notorious ex-Galactic President and patron of Eccentrica Galumbits, the triple-breasted whore of Eroticon Six) and Marvin the Paranoid Android (who's still suffering from that terrible pain in all the diodes down his left side) proved to be such a success for the BBC that its transition to TV was (almost) inevitable. In 1981 several key members of the radio cast made the move to the small screen. Simon Jones' bewildered Arthur Dent remains the central character, shambling around in his dressing gown (a fact easy to forget on radio); Mark Wing-Davey's Zaphod Beeblebrox is the same as his boastful radio persona, even if the second head utterly fails to convince. Unfortunately, newcomers David Dixon (as Ford Prefect) and the irritating Sandra Dickinson (as Trillian) are no match for their radio predecessors.

The problem here is not so much the low-budget look as the script itself, which is lovingly faithful to the radio series in a way that Douglas Adams' novels aren't. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy was a lucid, satirical, occasionally profound, utterly unique comic invention on radio. As such, it has nothing to gain from TV. The script needs no visual elaboration—that—that's best left to the listener's own imagination. Only the animated renditions of the Guide itself enhance Peter Jones' wonderfully dry narration; otherwise—paradoxically, perhaps—by supplying images the concept is oddly diminished here.

On the DVD: A suitably eclectic not to say eccentric collection of extra features makes this a wholly satisfying two-disc set, neatly packaged in a fold-out slipcase. On the second disc there's an hour-long "making of" documentary from 1992 featuring contributions from the cast and crew, including Douglas Adams; and then there's even more in a 20-minute section entitled "Don't Panic!". A fascinating behind-the-scenes peek at filming as the clock runs out on studio time and a look at the recording of the original radio series complete the first part. Then navigate to the "Outer Planets" to find outtakes, a deleted scene, Zaphod's animatronic second head on Tomorrow's World and Peter Jones's witty and shambolic introduction to the first episode, plus more besides. The series itself is presented in standard 4:3 ratio and Dolby stereo. —Mark Walker

He pops pills, watches soaps, and always, always says what's on his mind. He's Dr. Gregory House (Emmy nominee Hugh Laurie, Blackadder). Producers David Shore, Bryan Singer, Katie Jacobs, and Paul Attanasio haven't rewritten the hospital drama, but they've infused a moribund genre with new life and created one of TV's most compelling characters.

More than any previous medical procedural, it resembles Attanasio's underrated Gideon's Crossing, but House is lighter on its feet. As fascinating as he is, the show wouldn't work as well if it were all House all the time (that would be like Sherlock Holmes without Watson or Moriarty). Fortunately, he's joined by an intriguing cast of characters, portrayed by a combination of experienced vets (Omar Epps, Lisa Edelstein, Tony winner Robert Sean Leonard) and new faces (Jennifer Morrison, Jesse Spencer). Aside from the complicated cases they tackle each week, the sparks really fly when House's brilliant, if naïve charges are put to the test—and as the head of a teaching hospital, it's his job to test them (although his tough love approach is constantly landing him in hot water with Edelstein's administrator).

From the first episode, House attracted a talented array of guests, including Robin Tunney ("Pilot"), Joe Morton ("Role Model"), and Patrick Bauchau ("Cursed") as Spencer's father. In addition, Chi McBride and Sela Ward appear frequently (with Ward returning for the second season). Viewers who first watched these 22 episodes will be gratified to note that the music has survived the transition to disc, such as the Rolling Stones' "You Can't Always Get What You Want," as featured in both the pilot and season finale ("Honeymoon"). The only apparent omission is the credit theme (Massive Attack's "Teardrop") from the pilot. —Kathleen C. Fennessy

Like a dream, Howl's Moving Castle carries audiences to vistas beyond their imaginations where they experience excitement, adventure, terror, humor, and romance. With domestic box office receipts of over $210 million, Howl passed Miyazaki's Princess Mononoke to become the #3 film in Japanese history, behind his Spirited Away and James Cameron's Titanic.

Based on a juvenile novel by Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle marks the first time Miyazaki has adapted another writer's work since Kiki's Delivery Service (1989). Sophie, a 19-year-old girl who believes she is plain, has resigned herself to a drab life in her family's hat shop—until the Witch of the Waste transforms her into a 90-year-old woman. In her aged guise, Sophie searches for a way to break the Witch's spell and finds unexpected adventures. Like Chihiro, the heroine of Spirited Away, Sophie discovers her hidden potential in a magical environment—the castle of the title.

Using CG, Miyazaki creates a ramshackle structure that looks like it might disintegrate at any moment. Sophie's honesty and determination win her some valuable new friends: Markl, Howl's young apprentice; a jaunty scarecrow; Calcifer, a temperamental fire demon; and Heen, a hilarious, wheezing dog. She wins the heart of the dashing, irresponsible wizard Howl, and brings an end an unnecessary and destructive war. The film overflows with eclipsing visuals that range from frightening aerial battles to serene landscapes, and few recent features—animated or live action—offer as much magic as Howl's Moving Castle.—Charles Solomon

After creating the last great traditionally animated film of the 20th century, The Iron Giant, filmmaker Brad Bird joined top-drawer studio Pixar to create this exciting, completely entertaining computer-animated film. Bird gives us a family of "supers," a brood of five with special powers desperately trying to fit in with the 9-to-5 suburban lifestyle. Of course, in a more innocent world, Bob and Helen Parr were superheroes, Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl. But blasted lawsuits and public disapproval forced them and other supers to go incognito, making it even tougher for their school-age kids, the shy Violet and the aptly named Dash. When a stranger named Mirage (voiced by Elizabeth Pena) secretly recruits Bob for a potential mission, the old glory days spin in his head, even if his body is a bit too plump for his old super suit.

Bird has his cake and eats it, too. He and the Pixar wizards send up superhero and James Bond movies while delivering a thrilling, supercool action movie that rivals Spider-Man 2 for 2004's best onscreen thrills. While it's just as funny as the previous Pixar films, The Incredibles has a far wider-ranging emotional palette (it's Pixar's first PG film). Bird takes several jabs, including some juicy commentary on domestic life ("It's not graduation, he's moving from the fourth to fifth grade!").

The animated Parrs look and act a bit like the actors portraying them, Craig T. Nelson and Holly Hunter. Samuel L. Jackson and Jason Lee also have a grand old time as, respectively, superhero Frozone and bad guy Syndrome. Nearly stealing the show is Bird himself, voicing the eccentric designer of superhero outfits ("No capes!"), Edna Mode.

Nominated for four Oscars, The Incredibles won for Best Animated Film and, in an unprecedented win for non-live-action films, Sound Editing.

The Presentation
This two-disc set is (shall we say it?), incredible. The digital-to-digital transfer pops off the screen and the 5.1 Dolby sound will knock the socks off most systems. But like any superhero, it has an Achilles heel. This marks the first Pixar release that doesn't include both the widescreen and full-screen versions in the same DVD set, which was a great bargaining chip for those cinephiles who still want a full-frame presentation for other family members. With a 2.39:1 widescreen ratio (that's big black bars, folks, à la Dr. Zhivago), a few more viewers may decide to go with the full-frame presentation. Fortunately, Pixar reformats their full-frame presentation so the action remains in frame.

The Extras
The most-repeated segments will be the two animated shorts. Newly created for this DVD is the hilarious "Jack-Jack Attack," filling the gap in the film during which the Parr baby is left with the talkative babysitter, Kari. "Boundin'," which played in front of the film theatrically, was created by Pixar character designer Bud Luckey. This easygoing take on a dancing sheep gets better with multiple viewings (be sure to watch the featurette on the short).

Brad Bird still sounds like a bit of an outsider in his commentary track, recorded before the movie opened. Pixar captain John Lasseter brought him in to shake things up, to make sure the wildly successful studio would not get complacent. And while Bird is certainly likable, he does not exude Lasseter's teddy-bear persona. As one animator states, "He's like strong coffee; I happen to like strong coffee." Besides a resilient stance to be the best, Bird threw in an amazing number of challenges, most of which go unnoticed unless you delve into the 70 minutes of making-of features plus two commentary tracks (Bird with producer John Walker, the other from a dozen animators). We hear about the numerous sets, why you go to "the Spaniards" if you're dealing with animation physics, costume problems (there's a reason why previous Pixar films dealt with single- or uncostumed characters), and horror stories about all that animated hair. Bird's commentary throws out too many names of the! animators even after he warns himself not to do so, but it's a lively enough time. The animator commentary is of greatest interest to those interested in the occupation.

There is a 30-minute segment on deleted scenes with temporary vocals and crude drawings, including a new opening (thankfully dropped). The "secret files" contain a "lost" animated short from the superheroes' glory days. This fake cartoon (Frozone and Mr. Incredible are teamed with a pink bunny) wears thin, but play it with the commentary track by the two superheroes and it's another sharp comedy sketch. There are also NSA "files" on the other superheroes alluded to in the film with dossiers and curiously fun sound bits. "Vowellet" is the only footage about the well-known cast (there aren't even any obligatory shots of the cast recording their lines). Author/cast member Sarah Vowell (NPR's This American Life) talks about her first foray into movie voice-overs—daughter Violet—and the unlikelihood of her being a superhero. The feature is unlike anything we've seen on a Disney or Pixar DVD extra, but who else would consider Abe Lincoln an action figure? —Doug Thomas

An intriguing action adventure set in the near future, The Island finds those who survived a mass global contamination living in a contained and highly controlled world. Their actions are controlled, their lives are routine, and the only hope is to win lottery and be sent to a mysterious island, the so-called last surviving, uncontaminated paradise on the planet.

Naturally enough, things are quite what they initially seem, at least in the eyes of Ewan McGregror's Johnny Two Alpha. Along with Scarlet Johansen's Jordan Two Delta, they soon find out what happens when you don't fully comply with the rules of this deeply controlled world, and the stage is thus set for some action-packed cinema.

Given the film's disappointing box office returns though, you could be forgiven for thinking that all is not well with The Island, and truthfully, it's a movie with problems. Its pacing feels a little off, and there are moments when the script does the film no favours at all.

Yet take The Island as a popcorn flick, and you'll more than likely find yourself enjoying a good couple of hours of solid entertainment. Sure, ultimately they could have made more of the premise, and produced a tighter movie. But what's on screen usually works well enough, and the two stars don't do badly with the material at their disposal.—Simon Brew

The greatest Brit-flick crime caper comedy of all time, 1969's The Italian Job towers mightily above its latter-day mockney imitators. After Alfie but before Get Carter Michael Caine is the hippest ex-con around, bedding the birds (several at a time) and spouting immortal one-liners ("You're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!"). The inheritor of a devious plan to steal gold bullion in the traffic-choked streets of Turin, Caine recruits a misfit team of genial underworld types—including a lecherous Benny Hill and three plummy public-schoolboy rally drivers—and uses the occasion of an England-Italy football match as cover for the heist.

In his final screen appearance, Noel Coward joyfully sends up his own patriotic persona, and there are small though priceless cameos from the likes of Irene Handl and John Le Mesurier. But The Italian Job's real stars are the three Mini Coopers—patriotically decorated red, white and blue—that run rings round every other vehicle in an immortal car-chase sequence, which preserves forever the British public's love affair with the little car. Quincy Jones provided the irreverent music, naturally, while the cliffhanger ending thumbs its nose at anything so un-hip as a resolution. It's all unashamedly jingoistic—ridiculously, gleefully, absurdly so—but the whole sums up the joie de vivre of the 1960s so perfectly that future historians need only look here to learn why the decade was swinging.

On the DVD: The Italian Job disc contains three all-new documentaries——"The Great Idea" (conception), "The Self-Preservation Society" (casting), and "Get a Bloomin' Move On" (stunts)—which dovetail into a good 68-minute "making of" featurette. Contributors include scriptwriter Troy Kennedy Martin and Producer Michael Deeley, who also crops up on the sporadically interesting commentary track with author of The Making of The Italian Job, Matthew Field. The deleted "Blue Danube" waltz scene is also included, with optional commentary. The print is a decent anamorphic transfer of the original 2.35:1 ratio, and the soundtrack has been remastered to Dolby 5.1. The animated Mini Cooper menus set the tone perfectly. —Mark Walker

A truly impressive French film destined to become a modern masterpiece, Jean de Florette is an evocative adaptation of the highly regarded French novel. Two 1920's farmers engage in a bitter rivalry as one tries to tend to a plot of land and the other deviously undermines his efforts in order to conceal a valuable spring. The peasant farmer (Gérard Depardieu) who comes to the countryside to tend the land he has inherited is a naive and trusting soul seeking only to provide for his wife and daughter, while his neighbour (Yves Montand) is intent on doing whatever he can to discourage and demoralise the farmer so that he can take the land for himself. This simple tale unfolds in a wrenching fashion to a tragic conclusion, bringing forth questions about human nature and the prevalence and price of greed. Along with its follow-up, Manon des Sources, this film will leave an indelible impression on anyone who sees it. —Robert Lane

Somewhere between the sharp satire of Election and the rich human comedy of You Can Count On Me lies Juno, a sardonic but ultimately compassionate story of a pregnant teenage girl who wants to give her baby up for adoption. Social misfit Juno (Ellen Page, Hard Candy, X-Men: The Last Stand) protects herself with a caustic wit, but when she gets pregnant by her friend Paulie (Michael Cera, Superbad), Juno finds herself unwilling to terminate the pregnancy. When she chooses a couple who place a classified ad looking to adopt, Juno gets drawn further into their lives than she anticipated.

But Juno is much more than its plot; the stylised dialogue (by screenwriter Diablo Cody) seems forced at first, but soon creates a richly textured world, greatly aided by superb performances by Page, Cera, Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman as the prospective parents, and J.K. Simmons (Spider-Man) and Allison Janney as Juno's father and stepmother. Director Jason Reitman (Thank You For Smoking) deftly keeps the movie from slipping into easy, shallow sarcasm or foundering in sentimentality. The result is smarter and funnier than you might expect from the subject matter, and warmer and more touching than you might expect from the cocky attitude. Page's performance is deceptively simple; she never asks the audience to love her, yet she effortlessly carries a movie in which she's in almost every scene. That's star power. — Bret Fetzer, Amazon.com

Proudly billed as "the fourth film by Quentin Tarantino", Kill Bill, Volume 1 is actually half of it (if you include his chunk of Four Rooms it's really the fourth and a quarterth). If Jackie Brown achieved a certain maturity beyond callous cool, then this is his Mr Hyde's trash picture, which relishes all the things in cinema that are supposed to be bad for you. The opening Shaw Brothers logo and cheesy "our feature presentation" card, redolent of rancid Kia-Ora and stale Wrestlers, sets this up as defiantly a movie-geek's movie, whose touchstones are spaghetti Westerns, comic books, kung fu/samurai quickies and second-hand vinyl albums. If Kill Bill was a dog-eared paperback, it'd be confiscated by a teacher.

Tarantino's favoured flashback-and-forth structure means we begin with a shuffle between past and present as the Bride with No Name (Uma Thurman) is shown being apparently murdered at the climax of a Texas wedding chapel massacre and alive again tracking down the second person on her to-kill list. The bulk of the film takes place between these plot points as the Bride carries a vengeance feud to the first of her enemies, yakuza queenpin O-Ren Ishii (Lucy Liu). Like its soundtrack—everything from Nancy Sinatra to the RZA, with the Green Hornet theme along the way—it—it's an eclectic picture, with sequences done as a gruesome anime, particularly genocidal stretches in black and white, and segues from cheerful kung fu massacre to Kurosawa-look poised duelling. Tarantino holds back on his trademark motormouth pop culture references; in fact, much of the film is in sub-titled Japanese.

You have to lock your brain into trash-film mode to get the most out of it, but its cliffhanger fade-out—unlike the dispiriting "to be continued" at the end of Matrix Reloaded—makes you want to come back. It's not a spoiler to reveal that Bill (a barely glimpsed David Carradine) hasn't been killed yet, and Thurman needs to take out Daryl Hannah and Michael Madsen before she gets to him. —Kim Newman

"The Bride" (Uma Thurman) gets her satisfaction—and so do we—in Quentin Tarantino's "roaring rampage of revenge", Kill Bill, Vol. 2. Where Vol. 1 was a hyper-kinetic tribute to the Asian chop-socky grindhouse flicks that have been thoroughly cross-referenced in Tarantino's film-loving brain, Vol. 2—not a sequel, but Part Two of a breathtakingly cinematic epic—is Tarantino's contemporary martial-arts Western, fuelled by iconic images, music and themes lifted from any source that Tarantino holds dear, from the action-packed cheapies of William Witney (one of several filmmakers Tarantino gratefully honours in the closing credits) to the spaghetti epics of Sergio Leone. Tarantino doesn't copy so much as elevate the genres he loves, and the entirety of Kill Bill is clearly the product of a singular artistic vision, even as it careens from one influence to another. Violence erupts with dynamic impact, but unlike Vol. 1, this slower grand finale revels in Tarantino's trademark dialogue and loopy longueurs, reviving the career of David Carradine (who plays Bill for what he is: a snake charmer), and giving Thurman's Bride an outlet for maternal love and well-earned happiness. Has any actress endured so much for the sake of a unique collaboration? As the credits remind us, "The Bride" was jointly created by "Q&U", and she's become an unforgettable heroine in a pair of delirious movie-movies (Vol. 3 awaits, some 15 years hence) that Tarantino fans will study and love for decades to come. —Jeff Shannon

Studio: Tcfhe/mgm Release Date: 09/21/2004 Run time: 87 minutes

In 1962 Lawrence of Arabia scooped another seven Oscars for David Lean and crew after his previous epic, The Bridge on the River Kwai, had performed exactly the same feat a few years earlier. Supported in this Great War desert adventure by a superb cast including Alex Guinness, Jack Hawkins and Omar Sharif, Peter O'Toole gives a complex, star-making performance as the enigmatic TE Lawrence. The magnificent action and vast desert panoramas were captured in luminous 70mm by Cinematographer Freddie Young, here beginning a partnership with Lean that continued through Dr Zhivago (1965) and Ryan's Daughter (1970). Yet what made the film truly outstanding was Robert (A Man For All Seasons) Bolt's literate screenplay, marking the beginning of yet another ongoing collaboration with Lean. The final partnership established was between director and French composer Maurice Jarre, who won one of the Oscars and scored all Lean's remaining films, up to and including A Passage to India in 1984. Fully restored in 1989, this complete version of Lean's masterpiece remains one of cinema's all-time classic visions. —Gary S Dalkin

On the DVD: This vast movie is spread leisurely across two discs, with Maurice Jarre's overture standing in as intermission music for the first track of disc two. But the clarity of the anamorphic widescreen picture and Dolby 5.1 soundtrack justify the decision not to cram the whole thing onto one side of a disc. The movie has never looked nor sounded better than here: the desert landscapes are incredibly detailed, with the tiny nomadic figures in the far distance clearly visible on the small screen; the remastered soundtrack, too, is a joy. Thanks are due to Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg who supervised (and financed) the restoration of the picture in 1989; on disc two Spielberg chats about why David Lean is his favourite director, and why Lawrence had such a profound influence on him both as a child and as a filmmaker (he regularly re-watches the movie before starting any new project). Other features include an excellent and exhaustive "making-of" documentary with contributions from surviving cast and crew (an avuncular Omar Sharif is particularly entertaining as he reminisces about meeting the hawk-like Lean for the first time), some contemporary featurettes designed to promote the movie and a DVD-ROM facility. The extra features are good—especially the documentary—but the breathtaking quality of both anamorphic picture and digital sound are what make this DVD package a triumph. —Mark Walker

The winning comic finesse of Reese Witherspoon drives Legally Blonde 2. It's astonishing that the sequel could possibly be daffier than the first movie, but Legally Blonde 2 leaves reality behind like an unflattering outfit. Unemployed lawyer Elle Woods (Witherspoon) sets off to the US capitol to ban cosmetics testing on animals, after discovering that her beloved Chihuahua's own mother is being used as a test subject. Washington DC becomes a testing ground for Elle's mettle, as she grapples with callous committees, backstabbing representatives and devious aides to get her bill considered by Congress, with some help from her sorority sisters and her hairdresser friend Paulette (Jennifer Coolidge). Witherspoon bursts with charisma and dazzles with sheer performing skill; she's the comic heir to screwball comedienne Carole Lombard—which is high praise. The film also features Bob Newhart and Sally Field. —Bret Fetzer

An extraordinary comic performance from Reese Witherspoon makes Legally Blonde a winner. Witherspoon's Elle is a ditzy blonde forced by circumstances to metamorphose into a strong-minded and academic lawyer, without losing her strong sense of self in the process. After majoring in fashion sales, she applies to Harvard Law School to pursue the boy who jilted her, and discovers that she is smart as well as beautiful.

Much of this is standard fish-out-of-water fare, with drab "intellectuals" snubbing the colourful and well-meaning Elle. Yet feminists will be disconcerted to discover that, apparently, a life of manicures and accessorising will teach you as much about female solidarity as decades of consciousness-raising! Recruited to the defence team of a fitness guru, she takes the defendant's innocence for granted rather than feeling superior to her. Gradually, she and her ex's new fiancée build a fragile friendship that matters to both of them; Selma Blair is excellent as the snobbish vulnerable Vivienne. It might be a predictable self-help fairytale, but it's also well-observed, cute and funny.

On the DVD: the DVD is presented in 1.78:1 ratio with 5.1 Dolby digital sound as standard. The disc also comes with a wealth of features, including a documentary on the film's obsession with hairstyles—outlining the struggle to keep its heroine bleach blonde from day to day—and a bubbly commentary from Witherspoon and director Robert Luketic. There are also promos, a theatrical trailer and an optional trivia track. —Roz Kaveney

How would the modern face of policing cope in the land of The Sweeney? That's the question posed by Life on Mars, as DI Sam Tyler (John Simm) a modern cop transported back to 1973 after a nasty car accident. There, he finds himself dealing with the significantly rougher attitudes and behaviours of "old-school" British policing, as exemplified by his new boss, DCI Gene Hunt (Philip Glenister). It's a fish-out-of-water story, as Tyler attempts to teach his new colleagues some very modern methods, while attempting to get used to sheepskin jackets, wide lapels and man-made fibres.

This first series of the hugely successful BBC programme sets the scene and introduces the characters that make up Tyler's new world, but stumbles a bit by trying too hard to explain exactly how he got there (the "coma" subplot just gets in the way). Life on Mars is at its best when Glenister is on screen—he—he's bigoted, chauvinistic and aggressive, and goes through each episode alternately bellowing or scowling. But he's a product of his times, and in his heart, all he wants is to catch the bad guys. For Tyler, it's all about the means, while for Hunt it's all about the ends. They may not like each other much, but their on-screen chemistry is undeniable, and just one of the things that make this excellent series so watchable. —Ted Kord

It's hard to believe it's over. Life On Mars shot out of nowhere at the beginning of 2006 to become a vital, gripping drama, and this second series more than maintains the sky high standards that the first so memorably set.

What makes it even more surprising is that all the ingredients were there for it to go so tragically wrong. The central premise, that for unknown reasons modern day police detective Sam Tyler wakes up in the 1970s, is fraught with potential potholes, yet the creators of Life On Mars twist it very much in their favour, delivering a skilful, taut comparison between policing then and policing now.

It's this clash of approach that provides many of Life On Mars' sparks, but nonetheless, it has much more than that going for it. It boasts, for instance, a terrific level of attention to detail, and weaves in quality narrative too, with Tyler frequently caught between unravelling his predicament, the crimes before him, and his 1970s' colleagues with their 1970s' tactics.

This second, and final, series wraps things up surprisingly well, and consistently delivers laughs, action and plenty of pub talk off the back of it. It's also a delight to revisit Life On Mars, and that makes this collected boxset of the episodes of season two an absolute must for any fan of gritty, interesting and terrifically entertaining British drama. Quite, quite brilliant. —Jon Foster

Long before The Full Monty there was this lovely fish-out-of-water comedy by deft Scots writer-director Bill Forsyth (Gregory's Girl). Set in the 1980s during a period of controversy over North Sea oil drilling, Local Hero follows a likeable, woolly American junior executive (Peter Riegert) dispatched from Texas by his blustering boss (a high-spirited Burt Lancaster) to a small fishing village on the coast of Scotland for the purpose of swindling the presumably simple-minded locals out of their drilling rights. The surprise isn't that the villagers turn the tables on the American schemers, but that they do so without displaying a hint of malice. They get a kick out of flummoxing the city slickers. Even Lancaster's greed-head Felix Happer eventually has a change of heart. In outline, this may sound more ordinary than it feels as you're watching it. The fine young British actor Denis Lawson, who had a tiny role as one of the fighter pilots in Star Wars plays Riegert's UK contact, Gordon Urquhart, a sad sack with a noble soul. —David Chute

In every aspect, the extended edition of Peter Jackson's epic fantasy The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring is superior to the theatrical version. No-one who cares at all about the film should ever need to watch the original again. Well, maybe the impatient and the squeamish will still prefer it, because this extended edition makes a long film 30 minutes longer and there's a wee bit more violence. But the changes—sometimes whole scenes, sometimes merely a few seconds—make for a richer film. There's more of the spirit of JRR Tolkien, embodied in more songs and a longer opening focusing on Hobbiton. There's more character development, and more background into what is to come in the two subsequent films, such as Galadriel's gifts to the Fellowship and Aragorn's burden of lineage. Some additions make more sense to the plot while others are merely worth seeing, such as the wood elves leaving Middle-earth or the view of Caras Galadhon (but sorry, there's still no Tom Bombadil).

On the DVDs: The Fellowship of the Ring—Extended Version comes in two distinct packages: choose either the four-disc set itself, handsomely presented in a hardback book-style fold-out, or the huge and more expensive Collector's Box Set, which has the same four-disc set accompanied by two chunky "polystone" sculpted Argonath bookends, both of which are solid enough to support either your DVD or Tolkien book collection. The discs themselves have extremely useful chapter menus that indicate which scenes are new or extended. The only drawback is that the film is now spread over two discs, with a somewhat abrupt break following the council at Rivendell, due to the storage capacity required for the longer running time, the added DTS ES 6.1 audio, and the commentary tracks. But that's a minor inconvenience. Of the four commentaries those with the greatest general appeal are the one by Jackson with cowriters Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens, and the one by 10 cast members; but the more technically orientated commentaries by the creative and production staff are also worth hearing.

The bonus features (encompassing two complete DVDs) are far superior to the largely promotional materials included on the theatrical release, delving into such matters as script development, casting, and visual effects. This extended edition DVD set is the Fellowship to rule them all. —David Horiuchi

A marvellously sympathetic yet spectacularly cinematic treatment of the first part of Tolkien's trilogy, Peter Jackson's The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring is the film that finally showed how extraordinary digital effects could be used to support story and characters, not simply overwhelm them. Both long-time fantasy fans and newcomers alike were simultaneously amazed, astonished and left agog for parts two and three.

Jackson's abiding love for the source material comes across in the wealth of incidental detail (the stone trolls from The Hobbit, Bilbo's hand-drawn maps); and even when he deviates from the book he does so for sound dramatic reasons (the interminable Tom Bombadil interlude is deleted; Arwen not Glorfindel rescues Frodo at the ford). New Zealand stands in wonderfully for Middle-Earth and his cast are almost ideal, headed by Elijah Wood as a suitably naïve Frodo, though one with plenty of iron resolve, and Ian McKellen as an avuncular-yet-grimly determined Gandalf. The set-piece battle sequences have both an epic grandeur and a visceral, bloody immediacy: the Orcs, and Saruman's Uruk-Hai in particular, are no mere cannon-fodder, but tough and terrifying adversaries. Tolkien's legacy could hardly have been better served.

On the DVD: The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring two-disc set presents the original theatrical release (approx 171 minutes) on the first disc with a vivid Dolby 5.1 soundtrack and a simply splendid anamorphic print that allows even the darkest recesses of Moria to be glimpsed. The second disc contains 15 short behind-the-scenes pieces originally seen on the official Web site plus three substantial featurettes. The Houghton Mifflin "Welcome to Middle-Earth" is a 16-minute first look at the transition from page to screen, most interesting for its treasurable interview with Tolkien's original publisher Rayner Unwin. "Quest for the Ring" is a pretty standard 20-minute Fox TV special with lots of cast and crew interviews. Better is the Sci-Fi Channel's "A Passage to Middle-Earth", a 40-minute special that goes into a lot more detail about many aspects of the production and how the creative team conceived the film's look.

Most mouth-watering for fans who just can't wait is a 10-minute Two Towers preview, in which Peter Jackson personally tantalises us with behind-the-scenes glimpses of Gollum and Helm's Deep, plus a tasty three-minute teaser for the four-disc Fellowship special edition. Rounding out a good package are trailers, Enya's "May It Be" video and a Two Towers video game preview.—Mark Walker

The greatest trilogy in film history, presented in the most ambitious sets in DVD history, comes to a grand conclusion with the extended edition of The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. Not only is the third and final installment of Peter Jackson's adaptation of the works of J.R.R. Tolkien the longest of the three, but a full 50 minutes of new material pushes the running time to a whopping 4 hours and 10 minutes. The new scenes are welcome, and the bonus features maintain the high bar set by the first two films, The Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers.

What's New?
One of the scenes cut from the theatrical release but included here, the resolution of the Saruman storyline, generated a lot of publicity when the movie opened, as actor Christopher Lee complained in the press about losing his only appearance. It's an excellent scene, one Jackson calls "pure Tolkien," and provides better context for Pippin to find the wizard's palantir in the water, but it's not critical to the film. In fact, "valuable but not critical" might sum up the ROTK extended edition. It's evident that Jackson made the right cuts for the theatrical run, but the extra material provides depth and ties up a number of loose ends, and for those sorry to see the trilogy end (and who isn't?) it's a welcome chance to spend another hour in Middle-earth. Some choice moments are Gandalf's (Ian McKellen) confrontation with the Witch King (we find out what happened to the wizard's staff), the chilling Mouth of Sauron at the gates of Mordor, and Frodo (Elijah Wood) and Sam (Sean Astin) being mistaken for Orc soldiers. We get to see more of Éowyn (Miranda Otto), both with Aragorn and on the battlefield, even fighting the hideously deformed Orc lieutenant, Gothmog. We also see her in one of the most anticipated new scenes, the Houses of Healing after the battle of the Pelennor Fields. It doesn't present Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen) as a savior as the book did, but it shows the initial meeting between Éowyn and Faramir (David Wenham), a relationship that received only a meaningful glance in the theatrical cut.

If you want to completely immerse yourself in Peter Jackson's marvelous and massive achievement, only the extended edition will do.
And for those who complained, no, there are no new endings, not even the scouring of the Shire, which many fans were hoping to see. Nor is there a scene of Denethor (John Noble) with the palantir, which would have better explained both his foresight and his madness. As Jackson notes, when cuts are made, the secondary characters are the first to go, so there is a new scene of Aragorn finding the palantir in Denethor's robes. Another big difference is Aragorn's confrontation with the King of the Dead. In the theatrical version, we didn't know whether the King had accepted Aragorn's offer when the pirate ships pulled into the harbor; here Jackson assumes that viewers have already experienced that tension, and instead has the army of the dead join the battle in an earlier scene (an extended cameo for Jackson). One can debate which is more effective, but that's why the film is available in both versions. If you feel like watching the relatively shorter version you saw in the theaters, you can. If you want to completely immerse yourself in Peter Jackson's marvelous and massive achievement, only the extended edition will do.

How Are the Bonus Features?
To complete the experience, The Return of the King provides the same sprawling set of features as the previous extended editions: four commentary tracks, sharp picture and thrilling sound, and two discs of excellent documentary material far superior to the recycled material in the theatrical edition. Those who have listened to the seven hours of commentary for the first two extended editions may wonder if they need to hear more, but there was no commentary for the earlier ROTK DVD, so it's still entertaining to hear him break down the film (he says the beacon scene is one of his favorites), discuss differences from the book, point out cameos, and poke fun at himself and the extended-edition concept ("So this is the complete full strangulation, never seen before, here exclusively on DVD!"). The documentaries (some lasting 30 minutes or longer) are of their usual outstanding quality, and there's a riveting storyboard/animatic sequence of the climactic scene, which includes a one-on-one battle between Aragorn and Sauron.

One DVD Set to Rule Them All
Peter Jackson's trilogy has set the standard for fantasy films by adapting the Holy Grail of fantasy stories with a combination of fidelity to the original source and his own vision, supplemented by outstanding writing, near-perfect casting, glorious special effects, and evocative New Zealand locales. The extended editions without exception have set the standard for the DVD medium by providing a richer film experience that pulls the three films together and further embraces Tolkien's world, a reference-quality home theater experience, and generous, intelligent, and engrossing bonus features. —David Horiuchi

With significant extra footage and a multitude of worthwhile bonus features this extended version of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers is as colossal an achievement as its predecessor, The Fellowship of the Ring. There are valuable additions to the story, including two new scenes which might appease those who feel that the characterisation of Faramir was the film's most egregious departure from the book; fans will also appreciate an appearance of the Huorns at Helm's Deep plus a nod to the absence of Tom Bombadil. Seeing a little more interplay between the gorgeous Eowyn and Aragorn is welcome, as is a grim introduction to Eomer and Theoden's son. And among the many other additions, there's an extended epilogue that might not have worked in cinemas, but is more effective here in setting up The Return of the King. While the 30 minutes added to The Fellowship of the Ring felt just right in enriching the film, the extra footage in The Two Towers at times seems a bit extraneous—we see moments that in the theatrical version we had been told about, and some fleshed-out conversations and incidents are rather minor. But director Peter Jackson's vision of JRR Tolkien's world is so marvellous that it's hard to complain about any extra time we can spend there.

While it may seem that there would be nothing left to say after the bevy of features on the extended Fellowship, the four commentary tracks and two discs of supplements on The Two Towers remain informative, fascinating, and funny, far surpassing the recycled materials on the two-disc theatrical version. Highlights of the 6.5 hours' worth of documentaries offer insight on the stunts, the design work, the locations and the creation of Gollum and—most intriguing for avid fans—the film's writers (including Jackson) discuss why they created events that weren't in the book. Providing variety are animatics, rough footage, countless sketches and a sound-mixing demonstration. Again, the most interesting commentary tracks are by Jackson and writers Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens and by 16 members of the cast (eight of whom didn't appear in the first film, and even including John Noble, whose Denethor character only appears in this extended cut). The first two instalments of Peter Jackson's trilogy have established themselves as the best fantasy films of all time, and among the best film trilogies of all time, and their extended-edition DVD sets have set a new standard for expanding on the already epic films and providing comprehensive bonus features. —David Horiuchi

Like a good dream, Sofia Coppola's Lost in Translation envelopes you with an aura of fantastic light, moody sound, head-turning love, and a feeling of déjà vu, even though you've probably never been to this neon-fused version of Tokyo. Certainly Bob Harris has not. The 50-ish actor has signed-on for big money shooting whiskey ads instead of doing something good for his career or his long-distance family. Jetlagged, helplessly lost with his Japanese-speaking director and out of sync with the metropolis, Harris (Bill Murray, never better) befriends the married but lovelorn 25-year-old Charlotte (played with heaps of poise by 18-year-old Scarlett Johansson). Even before her photographer husband all but abandons her, she is adrift like Harris but in a total entrapment of youth. How Charlotte and Bill discover their soul mates will be cherished for years to come.

Written and directed by Coppola (The Virgin Suicides), the film is far more atmospheric than plot-driven: we whiz through Tokyo parties, karaoke bars and odd nightlife, always ending up in the impossibly posh hotel where the two are staying. The wisps of bittersweet loneliness of Bill and Charlotte are handled smartly and romantically, but unlike modern studio films, this isn't a May to December fling film. Surely and steadily, the film ends on a much-talked-about grace note, which may burn some, yet awards film lovers who "always had Paris" with another cinematic destination of the heart. —Doug Thomas

Like a good dream, Sofia Coppola's Lost in Translation envelopes you with an aura of fantastic light, moody sound, head-turning love, and a feeling of déjà vu, even though you've probably never been to this neon-fused version of Tokyo. Certainly Bob Harris has not. The 50-ish actor has signed-on for big money shooting whiskey ads instead of doing something good for his career or his long-distance family. Jetlagged, helplessly lost with his Japanese-speaking director and out of sync with the metropolis, Harris (Bill Murray, never better) befriends the married but lovelorn 25-year-old Charlotte (played with heaps of poise by 18-year-old Scarlett Johansson). Even before her photographer husband all but abandons her, she is adrift like Harris but in a total entrapment of youth. How Charlotte and Bill discover their soul mates will be cherished for years to come.

Written and directed by Coppola (The Virgin Suicides), the film is far more atmospheric than plot-driven: we whiz through Tokyo parties, karaoke bars and odd nightlife, always ending up in the impossibly posh hotel where the two are staying. The wisps of bittersweet loneliness of Bill and Charlotte are handled smartly and romantically, but unlike modern studio films, this isn't a May to December fling film. Surely and steadily, the film ends on a much-talked-about grace note, which may burn some, yet awards film lovers who "always had Paris" with another cinematic destination of the heart. —Doug Thomas

It's set during the Korean War, in a mobile army surgical hospital. But no one seeing MASH in 1970 confused the film for anything but a caustic comment on the Vietnam War; this is one of the counterculture movies that exploded into the mainstream at the end of the 1960s. Director Robert Altman had laboured for years in television and sporadic feature work when this smash-hit comedy made his name (and allowed him to create an astonishing string of offbeat pictures, culminating in the masterpiece Nashville). Altman's style of cruel humour, overlapping dialogue, and densely textured visuals brought the material to life in an all-new kind of war movie (or, more precisely, antiwar movie). Audiences had never seen anything like it: vaudeville routines played against spurting blood, fuelled with open ridicule of authority. The cast is led by Elliott Gould and Donald Sutherland, as the outrageous surgeons Hawkeye Pierce and Trapper John McIntyre, with Robert Duvall as the uptight Major Burns and Sally Kellerman in an Oscar-nominated role as nurse "Hot Lips" Houlihan. The film's huge success spawned the long-running TV series, a considerably softer take on the material; of the film's cast, only Gary Burghoff repeated his role on the small screen, as the slightly clairvoyant Radar O'Reilly. —Robert Horton

With The Man Who Wasn't There the Coen brothers—those ironic geniuses of left-field bizarre—have pulled off another side-swerve into the unexpected. A movie "about a hairdresser who wants to become a dry-cleaner" as the brothers gleefully claim to have pitched it, it's set in 1949 in the small Northern California town of Santa Rosa (venue for Hitchcock's 1943 classic Shadow of a Doubt) and filmed in lustrous, deep-shadowy black-and-white—an affectionate, though never slavish, tribute to the great era of film noir.

Not only in its austere monochrome but in its tone, it comes as a total contrast to the Coens' previous film, the cheerfully picaresque O Brother, Where Art Thou?. Though they toss in plenty of surreal gags, including a whole running thread about flying saucers (this is Roswell-era America, after all), the overall mood is quiet, reflective and even—something quite new for the Coens—compassionate. Their protagonist, barber Ed Crane (Billy Bob Thornton, proving himself one of the great chameleon actors of our time), is a man trapped by his own impassivity—inside him, a seething mass of emotion that he's utterly unable to express. In true Coen style, his frustration leads him into a fatal move that spirals disastrously out of control.

Thornton is ably supported by a whole gallery of Coen regulars—Frances McDormand, Jon Polito, Tony Shalhoub—plus James Gandolfini (The Sopranos) and an amazingly assured turn from Scarlett Johansson (Ghost World). The dialogue, as you'd expect, is masterly, while the brothers' regular collaborators Director of Photography Roger Deakins and production designer Dennis Gassner work wonders of period evocation, and Carter Burwell contributes a haunting score.

On the DVD: The Man Who Wasn't There comes to DVD in a sharp, clean 1.85:1 anamorphic transfer that captures all the depth and subtlety of Deakins' superb photography, impeccably matched by the crystal-clear Dolby 5.1 Surround Sound. A lavish helping of extras includes a trailer and two TV spots, stills photo gallery, filmographies, a 16-minute "making of" featurette, an overlong (47 minutes) interview with Deakins, a batch of deleted scenes, and best of all, the voice-over commentary. This gives us not just Joel and Ethan, but Billy Bob as well, chatting and chortling and clearly enjoying every second of the movie they've made. Their enthusiasm is irresistible. —Philip Kemp

Less a sequel than a seamless continuation of its predecessor, Jean de Florette, Manon des Sources brings with it a more epic scope as it depicts the growth to womanhood of the daughter (Emmanuelle Béart) of the doomed farmer of the first film. As she discovers the truth of what happened to her father as a result of the scheming of their neighbour (Yves Montand), who took the land for himself, she vows revenge, realising that the neighbour's deeds have irrevocably shaped the course of her life. Her moves toward avenging her father's demise provide an ironic twist to this harsh and thought-provoking saga, and French director Claude Berri perfectly illustrates the lasting consequences of deceit, greed, and revenge. Manon des Sources is a very special subtitled film-choice, destined to be revered for years to come. —Robert Lane

March of the Penguins instantly qualifies as a wildlife classic, taking its place among other extraordinary films like Microcosmos and Winged Migration.

French filmmaker Luc Jacquet and his devoted crew endured a full year of extreme conditions in Antarctica to capture the life cycle of Emperor penguins on film, and their diligence is evident in every striking frame of this 80-minute documentary.

Narrated in soothing tones by Morgan Freeman, the film focuses on a colony of hundreds of Emperors as they return, in a single-file march of 70 miles or more, to their frozen breeding ground, far inland from the oceans where they thrive. At times dramatic, suspenseful, mischievous and just plain funny, the film conveys the intensity of the penguins' breeding cycle, and their treacherous task of protecting eggs and hatchlings in temperatures as low as 128 degrees below zero. There is some brief mating-ritual violence and sad moments of loss, but March of the Penguins remains family-friendly throughout, and kids especially will enjoy the Antarctic blue-ice vistas and the playful, waddling appeal of the penguins, who can be slapstick clumsy or magnificently graceful, depending on the circumstances. A marvel of wildlife cinematography, this unique film offers a front-row seat to these amazing creatures, balancing just enough scientific information with the entertaining visuals. —Jeff Shannon

It's enlightening to view Tim Burton's Mars Attacks! as his twisted satire of the blockbuster film Independence Day, which was released earlier the same year, although the movies were in production simultaneously. Burton's eye-popping, schlock tribute to 1950s UFO movies actually plays better on video than it did in cinemas. The idea of invading aliens ray-gunning the big-name movie stars in the cast is a cleverly subversive one, and the bulb-headed, funny-sounding animated Martians are pretty nifty, but it all seemed to be spread thin on the big screen. On video, however, the movie's kooky humour seems a bit more concentrated. The Earth actors (most of whom get zapped or kidnapped for alien science experiments) include Jack Nicholson, Glenn Close, Annette Bening, Pierce Brosnan, Danny DeVito, Martin Short, Sarah Jessica Parker, Rod Steiger, Michael J Fox, Lukas Haas, Jim Brown, Tom Jones and Pam Grier. —Jim Emerson

Aside from some gripping battles and a storm sequence to rival anything seen on screen, Peter Weir's Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World is as much about daily shipboard life during the Napoleonic era—especially the relationship between Captain Aubrey (Russell Crowe) and Doctor Stephen Maturin (Paul Bettany)—as it is about spectacle. Aubrey is a powerful figure whose experience and strength of character commands unwavering trust and respect from his crew; Crowe seems in his element naturally enough. Bettany, though, is his match on screen as Aubrey's intellectual foil. Director Weir successfully translates their relationship from novel to screen by subtly weaving in their past history and leaving viewers—whether they've read Patrick O'Brian's books or not—to do the thinking.

Although the film's special effects ate up a huge budget they never overtake the drama, with careful characterisation and painstaking attention to historical accuracy taking centre stage. Matching action to detail, drama to humour and special effects to well-sketched characters, Master and Commander is a deeply satisfying big-screen experience, breathing a bracing gust of sea air into Hollywood megabuck filmmaking.—Laura Bushell

On the DVD: Master & Commander's single-disc edition displays the full glories of the big screen experience, with Dolby Digital 5.1 and DTS sound options that make the most of the resounding battle scenes as well as the small but vital details of creaking planks and lapping waves, while the sweeping CinemaScope (2.35:1) photography anamorphically formatted for 16:9 widescreen splendidly reproduces Peter Weir's painterly compositions. It's a tad disappointing, then, to note the lack of a director's commentary (surely such an insightful director as Weir would have plenty to say) and the excessive promotional material—cinema trailers and plugs for Fox DVDs— that plays even before the main menu screen appears: anyone who has bought this title for repeat viewing deserves not to be subjected to such a broadside of soon-to-be-out-of-date advertising. —Mark Walker

The Wachowski Brothers' The Matrix took the well-worn science fiction idea of virtual reality, added supercharged Hollywood gloss and a striking visual style and stole The Phantom Menace's thunder as the must-see movie of the summer of 1999. Laced with Star Wars-like Eastern mysticism, and featuring thrilling martial arts action choreographed by Hong Kong action director Yuen Woo Ping (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon), The Matrix restored Keanu Reeves to genre stardom following virtual reality dud Johnny Mnemonic (1995), and made a star of Carrie-Anne Moss, who followed this with the challenging perception twister Memento (2000). Helping the film stand out from rivals Dark City (1998) and The Thirteenth Floor (1999) was the introduction of the celebrated "bullet time" visual effects, though otherwise the war-against-the-machines story, hard-hitting style and kinetic set-pieces such as the corporate lobby shoot-out lean heavily on Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991). Elsewhere the influence of John Woo, from the ultra-cool near real-world SF of Face/Off (1997) to the raincoats and sunglasses look of bullet-ballet A Better Tomorrow, is clearly in evidence. The set-up isn't without its absurdities, though—quite why super-intelligent machines bother to use humans as batteries instead of something more docile like cows, for example, is never explained, nor is how they expect these living batteries to produce more energy than it takes to maintain them. The Matrix is nevertheless exhilarating high-octane entertainment, although as the first part of a trilogy it perhaps inevitably doesn't have a proper ending.

On the DVD: the anamorphically enhanced 2.35:1 image is virtually flawless, exhibiting only the grain present in the theatrical print, while the Dolby Digital 5.1 sound is demonstration quality, showing off the high-impact sound effects and Don Davis' fine score to great effect. Special features are "data files" on the main stars, producer and director and "Follow the White Rabbit", which if selected while viewing the movie offers behind the scenes footage. This is interesting, but gimmicky, requires switching back from widescreen to 4:3 each time, and would be better if it could be accessed directly from one menu. There is also a standard 25-minute TV promo film which is as superficial as these things usually are. —Gary S Dalkin

The Matrix Reloaded delivers added amounts of everything that the first film had, with the exception of surprises. We see more of the "real world" in the "last human city" of Zion and we go back to the 1999-look urban virtual reality of the Matrix for more encounters with artificially-intelligent baddies and—the real reason you've turned up—a lot more martial arts superheroics.

The downside is that this is just part one of a two-pack of sequels, with Revolutions required to tie up the story and sort out a great deal of plot confusion. There are other problems: none of the stars have much good material to work with outside the fights and stunts, which makes the film sorely miss the mix of science fiction thrills and character interplay of the original instalment.

However, the Wachowski Brothers still deliver more than enough stand-alone instant classic action sequences to make you ignore their duff script: in particular, Reeves and Hugo Weaving square off in a rumble that gets dicey, as more and more identical Weavings come out of the woodwork to pile on the lone hero; and a full quarter of an hour is devoted to a chase through the Matrix that lets Laurence Fishburne shoulder the heroic business. A last-reel encounter with a virtual God, the architect of the Matrix, finally delivers some major plot advances, but the scene is so brilliantly shot and designed—with Reeves framed against a wall of TV screens that show multiple versions of himself—that it's easy to be distracted by the decor and miss the point of what's being said. —Kim Newman

On the DVD: The Matrix Reloaded two-disc set amazingly has very little in-depth stuff on this physically impressive movie; there's not even a commentary track. Perhaps the Wachowski Brothers want to keep their enigmatic aura, or perhaps there's a better DVD coming after the trilogy ends? Best here is the 30-minute feature on the incredible freeway chase: here you get the inside scoop on how the titanic 12-minute sequence was put together. There's plenty of material on the second disc, but it's just filler, with the actors talking about how great it is to work again with the Matrix team and plenty of quick edits of explosions and other "cool" things. There's a segment on product placement, 30 minutes on how the video game was created and the MTV Movie Awards parody. The features feel more like pre-movie hype than post-film deconstruction. Dolby 5.1 sound is suitably spectacular—but there's no DTS option—and the super-wide 2.40:1 picture is, of course, pin-sharp, bringing out all the lavish detail and highlighting the contrast between the green-hued Matrix and the grimy grey real world. —Doug Thomas

The opening reels of Matrix Revolutions do nothing to dispel the feeling of exhausted disappointment that set in during the second half of The Matrix Reloaded. There's plenty more talky guff combined with the picking-up of hard-to-remember plot threads as Neo (Keanu Reeves) lies in a coma in the "real" world and is stranded on a tube station in a limbo "beyond the Matrix" while his allies do a reprise of the shooting-their-way-past-the-bodyguards bit from the last film (this time, the baddies can walk on the ceiling). A new Oracle (Mary Alice) makes some pronouncements about the end being near and more things happen—including the evil Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving) manifesting in reality by possessing a minor character and perfidiously blinding our hero, who wears a becoming ribbon over his wounded eyes and perceives the world in an impressive "flaming truth vision".

What about the action? The equivalent of the last film's freeway chase scene is a huge face-off as the Sentinels (robot squids) finally breach the caverns of Zion, "the last human city", and swarm against a battalion of pilot-manipulated giant robots: here, the effects are seamless and the images astonishing, though the fact that none of the major characters are involved and the whole thing goes on so long as if designed to top any previous robot-on-robot screen carnage means that it becomes monotonously amazing, like watching someone else play a great computer game. After a too-easily-managed major realignment of the enmities, the film—and the series—finally delivers a sign-off sequence that's everything you could want as Neo and Smith get into a kung fu one-on-one in a rain-drenched virtual city, flying as high as Superman and Brainiac in smart suits. It comes too late to save the day and the wrap-up is both banal and incoherent, but at least this single combat is a reward for hardy veterans who've sat through seven hours of build-up. —Kim Newman

On the DVD: when the first Matrix DVD was released, with never-before-seen features such as the "Follow the White Rabbit" option, it set a benchmark against which subsequent discs were judged. But neither sequel has lived up to the original's high standards. The Matrix Revolutions two-disc set is an unexceptional package, with a routine "making of" featurette being the main bonus item. Amid all the usual backslapping guff about how great everyone is and what a great time they've all had, it's possible to glean some nuggets of useful information about the baffling plot—though cast and crew can't repress a note of weariness creeping in when discussing the horribly protracted shooting schedule. The feature on the CG Revolution is the most informative for people who like to know how everything was done, and, in the same vein, there's also a multi-angle breakdown of the Super Burly Brawl. A 3-D timeline gives a handy summary of the story so far, and there's a plug for The Matrix Online game. The anamorphic 2.40:1 picture is, of course, a real treat to look at, even if the movie is mostly shades of dark grey and dark green; soundwise the dynamic range of the Dolby Digital surround is extreme: all conversations are conducted in throaty whispers, while the action sequences will push your speakers to the limit. No DTS option, though. And as with Reloaded, there's no audio commentary either: the Wachowski's policy of not talking about their creation begins to seem like a ploy to avoid answering awkward questions. —Mark Walker

Briefed by the Ministry of Information to make a film that would foster Anglo-American relations in the post-war period, innovative filmmakers Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, came up with A Matter Of Life And Death—an extravagant and extraordinary fantasy in which David Niven stars as a downed pilot who must justify his continuing existence to a heavenly panel of judges, because he has made the mistake of falling in love with an American girl (Kim Hunter) when he really should have been dead. National stereotypes are lampooned as the angelic judges squabble over his fate. In a neat reversal of expectations, the Heaven sequences are black and white, while Earth is seen in techni-colour. Daring cinematography mixes monochrome and colour, incorporates time-lapse images, and even toys with background 'time freezes' 50 years before "The Matrix". Roger Livesey and Raymond Massey lead the fine supporting cast, in what is one of the undoubted jewels of British cinema.

On the DVD: A Matter of Life and Death is presented in reasonably sharp 4:3 ratio with decent mono sound. Aside from English hard-of-hearing subtitles there are no extras. —Mark Walker

An absolute stunner of a movie, Memento combines a bold, mind-bending script with compelling action and virtuoso performances. Guy Pearce plays Leonard Shelby, hunting down the man who raped and murdered his wife. The problem is that "the incident" that robbed Leonard of his wife also stole his ability to make new memories. Unable to retain a location, a face, or a new clue on his own, Leonard continues his search with the help of notes, Polaroids, and even homemade tattoos for vital information. Because of his condition, Leonard essentially lives his life in short, present-tense segments, with no clear idea of what's just happened to him. That's where Memento gets really interesting; the story begins at the end, and the movie jumps backward in 10-minute segments. The suspense of the movie lies not in discovering what happens, but in finding out why it happened. Amazingly, the movie achieves edge-of-your-seat excitement even as it moves backward in time! , and it keeps the mind hopping as cause and effect are pieced together.

Pearce captures Leonard perfectly, conveying both the tragic romance of his quest and his wry humour in dealing with his condition. He is bolstered by several excellent supporting players including Carrie-Anne Moss, and the movie is all but stolen by Moss' fellow Matrix co-star Joe Pantoliano, who delivers an amazing performance as Teddy, the guy who may or may not be on his side. Memento has an intriguing structure and even meditations on the nature of perception and meaning of life if you go looking for them, but it also functions just as well as a completely absorbing thriller. It's rare to find a movie this exciting with so much intelligence behind it. —Ali Davis, Amazon.com

On the DVD: this amazing movie looks crisp and clean in a good anamorphic widescreen (2.35:1) picture accompanied by Dolby 5.1 sound. The menu is almost as baffling as the movie itself, but once you master the navigation you'll find interviews, biographies, a tattoo picture gallery and the shooting script among other extras. Most mind-boggling of all, however, is the "Memento Mori" option in the special features menu, which allows you to play a specially re-edited version of the movie in chronological order, beginning with the end credits running backwards! —Mark Walker

Chicago director Rob Marshall's pretty but empty (or pretty empty) film has all the elements of an Oscar contender: solid adaptation (from Arthur Golden's bestseller), beautiful locale, good acting, lush cinematography. But there's something missing at the heart, which leaves the viewer sucked in, then left completely detached from what's going on.

It's hard to find fault with the fascinating story, which traces a young girl's determination to free herself from the imprisonment of scullery maid to geisha, then from the imprisonment of geisha to a woman allowed to love. Chiyo (Suzuka Ohgo), a young girl with curious blue eyes, is sold to a geisha house and doomed to pay off her debt as a cleaning girl until a stranger named The Chairman (Ken Watanabe) shows her kindness. She is inspired to work hard and become a geisha in order to be near the Chairman, with whom she has fallen in love. An experienced geisha (Michelle Yeoh) chooses to adopt her as an apprentice and to use as a pawn against her rival, the wicked, legendary Hatsumomo (Gong Li). Chiyo (played as an older woman by Ziyi Zhang), now renamed Sayuri, becomes the talk of the town, but as her path crosses again and again with the Chairman's, she finds the closer she gets to him the further away he seems. Her newfound "freedom" turns out to be trapping, as men are allowed to bid on everything from her time to her virginity.

Some controversy swirled around casting Chinese actresses in the three main Japanese roles, but Zhang, Yeoh and Gong in particular ably prove they're the best for the part. It's admirable that all the actors attempted to speak Japanese-accented English, but some of the dialogue will still prove difficult to understand; perhaps it contributes to some of the emotion feeling stilted. Geisha has all the ingredients of a sweeping, heartbreaking epic and follows the recipe to a T, but in the end it's all dressed up with no place to go.—Ellen A. Kim

This imaginative comedy from director Barry Sonnenfeld (Get Shorty) is a lot of fun, largely on the strength of Will Smith's engaging performance as the rookie partner of a secret agent (Tommy Lee Jones) assigned to keep tabs on Earth-dwelling extra-terrestrials. There's lots of comedy to spare in this bright film, some of the funniest stuff found in the margins of the major action (a scene with Smith's character being trounced in the distance by a huge alien while Jones questions a witness is a riot.) The inventiveness never lets up, and the cast—including Vincent D'Onofrio doing frighteningly convincing work as an alien occupying a decaying human—hold up their end splendidly. —Tom Keogh, Amazon.com

On the DVD: This limited edition two-disc set contains two versions of the film, in both widescreen (1.85:1) and standard (4:3) ratios, with Dolby Digital 5.1 sound. As with the single-disc version there is a "Visual Commentary" that features director Barry Sonnenfeld and actor Tommy Lee Jones in an anecdotal conversation, but with the unique twist that they are displayed as silhouettes on your TV screen (imagine you're sitting in the back row of the cinema and they are up front) using a pointer to highlight particular events on screen. If you have a widescreen TV, the menu prompts you to switch to 4:3 mode to see this. On this two-disc version there is also a second commentary, again featuring Sonnenfeld, this time with special make-up effects wizard Rick Baker and other members of the FX team.

Even more extra features on the second disc are divided into two sections: "Creating MIB" and "Meet the MIB". In the "Creating" segment there is a "Visual Effects Scene Deconstruction" in which the tunnel scene and the Edgar Bug fight scene are dissected into their constituent parts; an in-depth documentary, "Metamorphosis of MIB" which charts the progress of the concept from comic book to screen; five "Extended and Alternate" scenes; "Art and Animation", which includes a character animation studio and creature designs from concept to completion; a behind-the-scenes photo gallery; and most fun of all, a "Scene Editing Workshop" in which you can cut and paste different shots from three scenes and compare your editing with that of the filmmakers. In the "Meet the MIB" section there are "Talent Files" of principal cast and crew, a short "making of" featurette; trailers, including a teaser for MIB II; and Will Smith's "Men in Black" music video. —Mark Walker

Fritz Lang's Expressionistic masterwork continues to exert its influence today, from Chaplin's Modern Times (1936) to Dr Strangelove (1963), and into the late 1990s with Dark City (1998). In the stratified society of the future (Y2K no less), the son of a capitalist discovers the atrocious conditions of the factory slaves, falling in love with the charismatic Maria in the bargain, who preaches nonviolence to the workers. But even the benevolent leadership of Maria is a challenge to the privileged class, so they have the mad-scientist Rotwang concoct a robot double to take her place and incite the workers to riot. The story is melodrama, but it's the powerful imagery that is so memorable. One of the most arresting images has legions of cowed workers filing listlessly into the great maw of the all-consuming machine-god Moloch. Unfortunately, the print used for this DVD is unfocused, scratchy, and five minutes short, altogether unworthy of a visionary masterpiece. It may be too much to hope for the complete film to be restored (only two hours of the original three-hour film are extant), but a clean transfer from a fine-grain negative ought to be possible. And why, when there are other possible future Metropolises to be had, should we downtrodden masses accept this junk? —Jim Gay

This visually stunning film is the product of a collaboration of award-winning graphic novelist Neil Gaiman (creator of the much-lauded Sandman series), his frequent collaborator Dave McKean (Cages), and The Jim Henson Company, themselves no strangers to elaborate fantasies such as The Dark Crystal. and Labyrinth. As with the latter film, MirrorMask focuses on a young woman unhappy with her daily existence; here, the artistically inclined Helena (Stephanie Leonides), is at odds with her circus performer parents. When a careless insult appears to send her mother (Gina McKee) into a coma, Helena withdraws into the dark and elaborate world of her drawings, in which a scenario very similar to her predicament in the real world is unfolding. Gaiman and director McKean create arresting images to populate Helena's world, and the Henson Company brings them vividly to life with CGI; though the story is occasionally murky, the fantasy elements are imaginative enough to enthral what will undoubtedly be the film's toughest customers—younger viewers. —Paul Gaita

The second best comedy ever made, Monty Python and the Holy Grail must give precedence only to the same team's masterpiece, The Life of Brian (1979). Even though most of this film's set-pieces are now indelibly inscribed in every Python fan's psyche, as if by magic they never seem to pall. And they remain endlessly, joyfully quotable: from the Black Knight ("It's just a flesh wound"), to the constitutional peasants ("Come and see the violence inherent in the system!") and the taunting French soldier ("Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!"). Not forgetting of course the migratory habits of European and African swallows...

The film's mock-Arthurian narrative provides a sturdy framework for the jokes, and the authentic-looking production design is relentlessly and gloriously dirty. The miniscule budget turns out to be one of the film's greatest assets: Can't afford horses? Use coconuts instead. No money for special effects? Let Terry Gilliam animate. And so on, from Camelot ("it's only a model") to the rampaging killer rabbit glove puppet. True it's let down a little by a rushed ending, and the jokes lack the sting of Life of Brian's sharply observed satire, but Holy Grail is still timeless comedy that's surely destined for immortality.

On the DVD: Disc One contains a digitally remastered anamorphic (16:9) print of the film—which is still a little grainy, but a big improvement on previous video releases—with a splendidly remixed Dolby 5.1 soundtrack (plus an added 24 seconds of self-referential humour "absolutely free"!). There are two commentaries, one with the two Terrys, co-directors Jones and Gilliam, the other a splicing together of three separate commentaries by Michael Palin, John Cleese (in waspish, nit-picking mood) and Eric Idle. A "Follow the Killer Rabbit" feature provides access either to the Accountant's invoices or Gilliam's conceptual sketches. Subtitle options allow you to read the screenplay or watch with spookily appropriate captions from Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part II.

The second disc has lots more material, much of it very silly and inconsequential (an educational film on coconuts, the Camelot song in Lego and so on), plus a long-ish documentary from 2001 in which Palin and Jones revisit Doune Castle, Glencoe and other Scottish locations. Perhaps best of all, though, are the two scenes from the Japanese version with English subtitles, in which we see the search for the Holy sake cup, and the Ni-saying Knights who want... bonsai! —Mark Walker

There is not a single joke, sight-gag or one-liner in Monty Python's Life of Brian that will not forever burn itself into the viewer's memory as being just as funny as it is possible to be, but—extraordinarily—almost every indestructibly hilarious scene also serves a dual purpose, making this one of the most consistently sustained film satires ever made. Like all great satire, the Pythons not only attack and vilify their targets (the bigotry and hypocrisy of organised religion and politics) supremely well, they also propose an alternative: be an individual, think for yourself, don't be led by others. "You've all got to work it out for yourselves", cries Brian in a key moment. "Yes, we've all got to work it our for ourselves", the crowd reply en masse. Two thousand years later, in a world still blighted by religious zealots, Brian's is still a lone voice crying in the wilderness. Aside from being a neat spoof on the Hollywood epic, it's also almost incidentally one of the most realistic on-screen depictions of the ancient world—instead of treating their characters as posturing historical stereotypes, the Pythons realised what no sword 'n' sandal epic ever has: that people are all the same, no matter what period of history they live in. People always have and always will bicker, lie, cheat, swear, conceal cowardice with bravado (like Reg, leader of the People's Front of Judea), abuse power (like Pontius Pilate), blindly follow the latest fads and giggle at silly things ("Biggus Dickus"). In the end, Life of Brian teaches us that the only way for a despairing individual to cope in a world of idiocy and hypocrisy is to always look on the bright side of life.

On the DVD: Life of Brian returns to Region 2 DVD in a decent widescreen anamorphic print with Dolby 5.1 sound—neither are exactly revelatory, but at least it's an improvement on the previous release, which was, shockingly, pan & scan. The 50-minute BBC documentary, "The Pythons", was filmed mainly on location in 1979 and isn't especially remarkable or insightful (a new retrospective would have been appreciated). There are trailers for this movie, as well as Holy Grail plus three other non-Python movies. There's no commentary track, sadly. —Mark Walker

In a dazzling and yet frequently maddening bid to bring the movie-musical kicking and screaming into the 21st century, Baz Luhrmann's Moulin Rouge bears no relation to the many previous films set in the famous Parisian nightclub. This may appear to be Paris in the 1890s with can-can dancers, bohemian denizens like Toulouse-Lautrec (John Leguizamo) and ribaldry at every turn, but it's really Luhrmann's pop-cultural wonderland, where everyone and everything is encouraged (in the third of Luhrmann's "red-curtain" extravaganzas, following Strictly Ballroom and Romeo & Juliet) to shatter boundaries of time and texture, colliding and careening in a fast-cutting frenzy that thinks nothing of casting Elton John's "Your Song" 80 years before its time. Still, there's something genuine brewing between costars Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman (as, respectively, a poor writer and his unobtainable object of desire), and their vocal talents are impressive enough to match Luhrmann's orgy of extraordinary sets, costumes and digital wizardry—-Jeff Shannon, Amazon.com

Baz Luhrmann takes a shot at reinventing Shakespeare's story of star-crossed lovers Romeo and Juliet as a visual pastiche inspired by MTV imagery, Hong Kong action-picture clichés, and Luhrmann's own taste for deliberate, gaudy excess. The result is explosive chaos, both in terms of bullets and visual sensibility, which some may find impossible to stick with for more than a few minutes. Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes play the leads, though not with much distinction, while Pete Postlethwaite makes a huge impression as this movie's version of Friar Laurence. The film is successful in spots, but overall its fever-dream game plan is difficult to ride out.—Tom Keogh, Amazon.com

Released amidst rumors of romance between costars Angelina Jolie and soon-to-be-divorced Brad Pitt, Mr. and Mrs. Smith offers automatic weapons and high explosives as the cure for marital boredom. The premise of this exhausting action-comedy (no relation to the 1941 Alfred Hitchcock comedy starring Carole Lombard and Robert Montgomery) is that the unhappily married Smiths (Pitt and Jolie) will improve their relationship once they discover their mutually-hidden identities as world-class assassins, but things get complicated when their secret-agency bosses order them to rub each other out. There's plenty of amusing banter in the otherwise disposable screenplay by Simon Kinberg, and director Doug Liman gives Pitt and Jolie a slick, glossy superstar showcase that's innocuous but certainly never boring. It could've been better, but as an action-packed summer confection, Mr. and Mrs. Smith kills two hours in high style. —Jeff Shannon, Amazon.com

Pandora couldn't resist opening the forbidden box containing all the delusions of mankind, and let's just say in Mulholland Drive David Lynch indulges a similar impulse. Employing a familiar film noir atmosphere to unravel, as he coyly puts it, "a love story in the city of dreams", Lynch establishes a foreboding but playful narrative in the film's first half before subsuming all of Los Angeles and its corrupt ambitions into his voyeuristic universe of desire. Identities exchange, amnesia proliferates and nightmare visions are induced, but not before we've become enthralled by the film's two main characters: the dazed and sullen femme fatale, Rita (Laura Elena Harring), and the pert blonde just-arrived from Ontario (played exquisitely by Naomi Watts) who decides to help Rita regain her memory. Triggered by a rapturous Spanish-language version of Roy Orbison's "Crying", Lynch's best film since Blue Velvet splits glowingly into two equally compelling parts. —Fionn Meade

The Coen brothers make their finest thriller since Fargo with a restrained adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's novel. Not that there aren't moments of intense violence, but No Country for Old Men is their quietest, most existential film yet. In this modern-day Western, Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) is a Vietnam veteran who needs a break. One morning while hunting antelope, he spies several trucks surrounded by dead bodies (both human and canine). In examining the site, he finds a case filled with $2 million. Moss takes it with him, tells his wife (Kelly Macdonald) he's going away for awhile, and hits the road until he can determine his next move. On the way from El Paso to Mexico, he discovers he's being followed by ex-special ops agent Chigurh (an eerily calm Javier Bardem). Chigurh's weapon of choice is a cattle gun, and he uses it on everyone who gets in his way—or loses a coin toss (as far as he's concerned, bad luck is grounds for death). Just as Sheriff Bell (Tommy Lee Jones), a World War II veteran, is on Moss's trail, Chigurh's former colleague, Wells (Woody Harrelson), is on his. For most of the movie, Moss remains one step ahead of his nemesis. Both men are clever and resourceful—except Moss has a conscious, Chigurh does not (he is, as McCarthy puts it, "a prophet of destruction"). At times, the film plays like an old horror movie, with Chigurh as its lumbering Frankenstein monster. Like the taciturn terminator, No Country for Old Men doesn't move quickly, but the tension never dissipates. This minimalist masterwork represents Joel and Ethan Coen and their entire cast, particularly Brolin and Jones, at the peak of their powers. —Kathleen C. Fennessy

Only Joel and Ethan Coen, masters of quirky and ultra-stylish genre subversion, would dare nick the plotline of Homer's Odyssey for O Brother, Where Art Thou?, their comic picaresque saga about three cons on the run in 1930s Mississippi. Our wandering hero in this case is one Ulysses Everett McGill, a slick-tongued wise guy with a thing for hair pomade (George Clooney, blithely sending up his own dapper image) who talks his chain-gang buddies (Coen-movie regular John Turturro and newcomer Tim Blake Nelson) to light out after some buried loot he claims to know of. En route they come up against a prophetic blind man on a railroad truck, a burly one-eyed baddie (the ever-magnificent John Goodman), a trio of sexy singing ladies, a blues guitarist who's sold his soul to the devil, a brace of crooked politicos on the stump, a manic-depressive bank robber, and—well, you get the idea. Into this, their most relaxed film yet, the Coens have tossed a beguiling ragbag of inconsequential situations, a wealth of looping, left-field dialogue and a whole stash of gags both verbal and visual. O Brother (the title's lifted from Preston Sturges' classic 1941 comedy Sullivan's Travels) is furthermore graced with glowing, burnished photography from Roger Deakins and a masterly soundtrack from T-Bone Burnett that pays loving homage to American 30s folk-styles: blues, gospel, bluegrass, jazz and more. And just to prove that the brothers haven't lost their knack for bad-taste humour, we get a Ku Klux Klan rally choreographed like something between a Nuremberg rally and a Busby Berkeley musical. —Philip Kemp

On the DVD: This two-disc set duplicates the original single-disc release of the film which included a handful of cast and crew interviews, and adds an additional disc with more interviews, two brief behind-the-scenes featurettes about the production design and the post-production digital colouring of the film, a couple of storyboard-to-scene comparisons and a music video of "Man of Constant Sorrow". There's also a 16-minute documentary to promote the companion Down from the Mountain concert. Frankly there's not a lot here to justify spreading it across two discs: a more pleasing not to say generous offering would have been to cram all these extras onto Disc 1 and give us Down from the Mountain as the second disc. —Mark Walker

A tale of two sisters competing for the same king, The Other Boleyn Girl uses historical facts as window dressing for this work of fiction that is entertaining, if not wholly believable. Anne Boleyn (Natalie Portman) is the doe-eyed vixen ordered by her power-hungry uncle to bewitch King Henry VIII (Eric Bana). Her shy sister Mary (Scarlett Johansson) has always been in Anne's shadow; Anne is prettier, more accomplished, and desired by many men. So when the King picks Mary—the "other Boleyn girl"—as his mistress, Anne turns on her sister and schemes to become not only the King's consort, but his new queen. With a pair of American actresses in the lead roles and an Aussie portraying their hunky object of desire, the English accents are all over the place in this period piece with a modern feel. Though the Boleyn girls' mother points out that her "daughters are being traded like cattle for the advancement of men," it is Anne who ultimately throws her slight weight around to bully Henry into doing her bidding. When he begs her to give herself to him, Anne—wearing a Carrie Bradshaw-esque "B" pendant on her neck—counters, "Make me your Queen." Is the audience really supposed to believe that Henry the VIII—the most powerful man in the land—would divorce Catherine of Aragon, separate from the Catholic church, and put England in upheaval simply because Anne refused to sleep with him until he jumped through all her hoops? "I have torn this country apart for you," he hisses at her before finally getting his way. Based on Philippa Gregory's bestselling novel of the same name, The Other Boleyn Girl features an attractive cast and a familiar plot with some icky twists. Kieran McGuigan's cinematography is breathtaking and is as crucial to setting the film's tone as the dialogue. Actually, it fares better: Lines such as "Well? Did he have you?!" sound almost comical. But the sweeping shots of Henry's kingdom and the carefully framed close-ups of Portman and Johansson are breathtaking in their beauty and say what words simply cannot. —Jae-Ha Kim

Inspired by the Brothers Grimm, Jorge Luis Borges, and Guillermo del Toro's own unlimited imagination, Pan's Labyrinth is a fairytale for adults. Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) may only be 12, but the worlds she inhabits, both above and below ground, are dark as anything del Toro has conjured. Set in rural Spain, circa 1944, Ofelia and her widowed mother, Carmen (Ariadna Gil, Belle Epoque), have just moved into an abandoned mill with Carmen's new husband, Captain Vidal (Sergi López, With a Friend like Harry). Carmen is pregnant with his son. Other than her sickly mother and kindly housekeeper Mercedes (Maribel Verdú, Y Tu Mamá También), the dreamy Ofelia is on her own. Vidal, an exceedingly cruel man, couldn't be bothered. He has informers to torture. Ofelia soon finds that an entire universe exists below the mill. Her guide is the persuasive Faun (Doug Jones, Mimic). As her mother grows weaker, Ofelia spends more and more time in the satyr's labyrinth. He offers to help her out of her predicament if she'll complete three treacherous tasks. Ofelia is willing to try, but does this alternate reality really exist or is it all in her head? Del Toro leaves that up to the viewer to decide in a beautiful, yet brutal twin to The Devil's Backbone, which was also haunted by the ghost of Franco. Though it lacks the humour of Hellboy, Pan's Labyrinth represents Guillermo Del Toro at the top of his considerable game. —Kathleen C. Fennessy

Peter Greenaway (The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover, Drowning by Numbers) continues to delight and disturb us with his talent for combining storytelling with optic artistry. The Pillow Book is divided into 10 chapters (consistent with Greenaway's love of numbers and lists) and is shot to be viewed like a book, complete with tantalising illustrations and footnotes (subtitles) and using television's "screen-in-screen" technology. As a child in Japan, Nagiko's father celebrates her birthday retelling the Japanese creation myth and writing on her flesh in beautiful calligraphy, while her aunt reads a list of "beautiful things" from a 10th-century pillow book. As she gets older, Nagiko (Vivian Wu) looks for a lover with calligraphy skills to continue the annual ritual. She is initially thrilled when she encounters Jerome (Ewan McGregor), a bisexual translator who can speak and write several languages, but soon realises that although he is a magnificent lover, his penmanship is less than acceptable. When Nagiko dismisses the enamoured Jerome, he suggests she use his flesh as the pages which to present her own pillow book. The film, complete with a musical score as international as the languages used in the narration, is visually hypnotic and truly an immense "work of art". —Michele Goodson

You won't need a bottle of rum to enjoy Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, even if you haven't experienced the Disneyland theme-park ride that inspired it. There's a galleon's worth of fun in watching Johnny Depp's androgynous performance as Captain Jack Sparrow, a roguish pirate who could pass for the illegitimate spawn of rockers Keith Richards and Chrissie Hynde. Depp gets all the good lines and steals the show, recruiting Orlando Bloom (a blacksmith and expert swordsman) and Keira Knightley (a lovely governor's daughter). They set out on an adventurous quest to recapture the notorious Black Pearl, a ghost ship commandeered by Jack's nemesis Captain Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush), a mutineer desperate to reverse the curse that left him and his (literally) skeleton crew in a state of eternal, undead damnation. Director Gore Verbinski (The Ring) repeats the redundant mayhem that marred his debut film Mouse Hunt, but with the writers of Shrek he's made Pirates of the Caribbean into a special-effects thrill-ride that plays like a Halloween party on the open seas. —Jeff Shannon

Pitch Black is a guilty pleasure that surpasses expectations, even though it owes a major debt to Alien and its cinematic spawn. As he did with The Arrival, director David Twohy revitalises a derivative story, allowing you to forgive its flaws and submit to its visceral thrills. Under casual scrutiny, the plot's logic crumbles like a stale cookie, but it's definitely fun while it lasts. A spaceship crashes on a desert planet scorched under three suns. The mostly doomed survivors include a resourceful captain (Radha Mitchell), a drug-addled cop (Cole Hauser) and a deadly prisoner (Vin Diesel) who quickly escapes. These clashing personalities discover that the planet is plunging into the darkness of an extended eclipse, and it's populated by hordes of ravenous, razor-fanged beasties that only come out at night. The body count rises, and Pitch Black settles into familiar sci-fi territory.

What sets the movie apart is Twohy's developing visual style, suggesting that this veteran of straight-to-video schlock may advance to the big leagues. Like the makers of The Blair Witch Project, Twohy understands the frightening power of suggestion; his hungry monsters are better heard than seen (although once seen, they're chillingly effective), and Pitch Black gets full value from moments of genuine panic. Best of all, Twohy's got a well-matched cast, with Mitchell (so memorable with Ally Sheedy in High Art) and Diesel (Pvt. Caparzo from Saving Private Ryan) being the standouts. The latter makes the most of his muscle-man role, and his character's development is one more reason this film works better than it should. —Jeff Shannon, Amazon.com

Pixar's unprecedented string of hit animated features was built on the short films in this collection. John Lasseter and Ed Catmull used these cartoons the way Walt Disney used the "Silly Symphonies" during the 1930s: as a training ground for artists and a way to explore the potential of a new medium. Although it's only 90 seconds long, "Luxo, Jr." (1986) ranks as the "Steamboat Willie" of computer animation: For the first time, audiences believed CG characters could think and feel. (It was also the first CG film to make audiences laugh.)

When the artists began work on Toy Story, they had learned so much from the shorts, they were ready to undertake that landmark creation. In the later shorts, the viewer can see the artists continuing to experiment: with a more realistic human figure in "Geri's Game" and with new ways of suggesting atmospheric effects in "Boundin'." Some of the more recent shorts continue the adventures of the characters from the features. "Jack-Jack Attack" reveals what happened to the hapless baby-sitter while the Incredibles were off fighting Syndrome, while "Mater and the Ghost Light" shows that life goes on for the inhabitants of Radiator Springs. When Sully from Monsters, Inc. tries to adjust his seat in "Mike's New Car," the animators prolong the moment to wring every drop of humour from the situation—just as an earlier generation of animators milked Wile E. Coyote's antics for all they were worth. The long-unseen films for Sesame Street are an unexpected bonus. A delightful collection of entertaining shorts, and a significant chronicle of the growth of computer animation. —Charles Solomon

Porco Rosso (The Crimson Pig, 1992) ranks as Hayao Miyazaki's oddest film: a bittersweet period adventure about a dashing pilot who has somehow been turned into a pig. Miyazaki once said, "Initially, it was supposed to be a 45-minute film for tired businessmen to watch on long airplane flights... Why kids love it is a mystery to me."

The early 1930s setting enabled Miyazaki to focus on the old airplanes he loves, and the film boasts complex and extremely effective aerial stunts and dogfights. In the new English dub from Disney, Michael Keaton as Porco delivers lines like "All middle-aged men are pigs" with appropriate cynicism, but his voice may be too familiar for some Miyazaki fans. Susan Egan makes a curiously distant Gina, the thrice-widowed hotel owner bound to Porco by years of friendship; Kimberly Williams is more effective as the irrepressible young engineer Fio. Porco Rosso may be an odd film, but Miyazaki's directorial imagination never flags.— Charles Solomon

Studio: Tcfhe/mgm Release Date: 09/21/2004 Run time: 97 minutes

Everything you think you know about modern science ia about to unravel in this critically acclaimed film about two young engineers & the consequences they face when they invent a machine that enables them to travel back in time. Studio: New Line Home Video Release Date: 04/19/2005 Starring: Shane Carruth Run time: 77 minutes Rating: Pg13

Director Rob Reiner's The Princess Bride is a gently amusing, affectionate pastiche of a medieval fairytale adventure, offering a similar blend of warm, literate humour as his Stand By Me (1985) and When Harry Met Sally (1989). Adapted from his own novel, William Goldman's script plays with the conventions of such 1980s fantasies as Ladyhawke and Legend (both 1985), and with the budget never allowing for spectacle, sensibly concentrates on creating a gallery of memorable characters. Robin Wright makes a delightful Princess Buttercup, Cary Elwes is splendid as Westley and "Dread Pirate Roberts", while Mandy Patinkin makes fine Spanish avenger. With winning support from Mel Smith, Peter Cook, Billy Crystal and Carol Kane there is sometimes a Terry Gilliam/Monty Python feel to the proceedings, and the whole film is beautifully shot, with a memorably romantic main theme by Mark Knopfler. Occasionally interrupted by Peter Falk as a grandfather reading the story to his grandson, The Princess Bride is an elegant post-modern family fable about storytelling itself; a theme found in other 1980s films The Neverending Story (1984) and The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (1988). A modest, small-scale work that manages to be both cynically modern and genuinely romantic all at once. As charming as you wish.

On the DVD: The 1.77:1 anamorphic transfer is strong, if not quite as detailed as it might be. Colours lack just a little solidity and some scenes evidence a fair amount of grain. Released theatrically in Dolby stereo, the Dolby Digital 5.1 remix spreads the sound effectively across the front speakers but makes very little use of the rear channels indeed. Extras are limited to filmographies of five of the leading actors, and a 4:3 presentation of the theatrical trailer, which gives far too many of the film's surprises away.—Gary S Dalkin

An a-list of stars lend their voice talents to this breathtaking animated adventure that follows the fearless princess mononoke as she leads a band of animal gods into battle against humankind. Studio: Buena Vista Home Video Release Date: 01/08/2002 Starring: Animated Run time: 150 minutes Rating: Pg13

Part action series, part psychedelic fantasy, part allegory, Patrick McGoohan's masterpiece, The Prisoner, was initially touted as a sequel to his earlier spy series, Danger Man. But when it was first broadcast in 1967 TV audiences were puzzled; when the show was cancelled 17 episodes later due to declining viewing figures, no one was any the wiser. Shot in the picturesque surroundings of Portmeirion in North Wales, whose architectural fantasies provided an ideal backdrop for the show's surrealism, The Prisoner has subsequently been recognised as one of the most innovative and thought-provoking series ever to be broadcast. Despite the primary-coloured flower-power look, the show's bold ideas haven't dated at all, proving that The Prisoner was simply years ahead of its time.

McGoohan is Number 6, a man whose resignation from the secret service (seen every week in a montage title sequence—itself an impressionistic TV landmark) triggers his abduction and imprisonment in "The Village", a sort of open prison for spies where everyone has a number not a name. It's a pretty comfortable place and the other inhabitants all seem passively to accept the situation, allowing the Village authorities to control and limit their actions without protest (escape attempts are thwarted by mysterious bubble-shaped guards called "Rovers"). Number 6, however, is an indomitable freedom fighter whose refusal to accept the status quo is a metaphor for the individual ego struggling against the forces of social conformity: "I am not a number I am a free man" is the series' most resonant catchphrase.

The Village's allegorical microcosm of society is presided over by Number 2, played by a different actor every week, with whom Number 6 clashes repeatedly in a battle of wills as he continually questions the authority that has imprisoned him ("Who is Number 1?"). In turn the Kafkaesque authorities try to discover the reason why he resigned. His trenchant refusal to provide any reason at all is itself a powerful assertion of individual freedom. The series culminates in perhaps the most bizarre and psychedelic TV episode ever made, "Fallout", in which Number 6's revelatory discovery of the real power that keeps him imprisoned raises more questions than it answers. —Mark Walker

With bedroom eyes and the mischievous smirk of an insatiable roué, Geoffrey Rush is a perfect choice to play the Marquis de Sade in Quills, adapted by Doug Wright from his own stage play and directed by Philip Kaufman. Imprisoned in France's Charenton asylum at the turn of the 18th century, de Sade is a stately court jester in dishevelled finery, and Rush imbues the role with the fierce urgency of a writer whose sexual fantasies are his sole remaining defence against repression and hypocrisy. Deprived of quill and ink, he writes with wine, then blood, then his own faeces—a descent into madness or an impassioned refusal to be silenced? Quills embraces freedom of expression ("such beauty, such abomination", as one character notes) while affirming that all freedoms have a price.

De Sade smuggles manuscripts out of Charenton with help from Madeleine (Kate Winslet), a virginal laundress who relishes de Sade's scandalous prose—a divine irony since she was taught to read by asylum abbé Coulmier (Joaquin Phoenix), whose desire for Madeleine is suppressed by Catholic propriety. The delicate dynamic of this trio is shattered by the arrival of Royer-Collard (Michael Caine, appearing somewhat comatose), a righteous hypocrite appointed to silence de Sade once and for all. It's all very engrossing as a piece of theatre (which it still is, despite Kaufman's elegant filming), and although Wright's literate dialogue limits de Sade to zesty ripostes and sneering perversity, Rush's intensity ensures that the marquis's plight is no laughing matter. Quills has a point, makes it without condescension and knows the difference between madness and passion . —Jeff Shannon, Amazon.com

The Science of Sleep concerns the flirtations and misunderstandings of Stéphane (played by Gael García Bernal), an aspiring visual artist, and Stéphanie (played by Charlotte Gainsbourg), his Parisian neighbour who creates whimsical sculptures from cotton balls and felt. As Stéphane toils in a caustic office for a company that makes calendars, he retreats into his dreams and finds them increasingly hard to distinguish from reality, and vice-versa.

The French magician and director Georges Méliès was arguably the first master of special effects, filling the silent movie houses of the early 20th century with camera trickery that stunned and delighted audiences. A century later, Michel Gondry works very much in the spirit of his artistic predecessor and countryman, creating films and music videos that feel just as hand-crafted and visually fantastical. The Science of Sleep is a trilingual film, with dialogue spoken in French, English, and Spanish by characters who are very much global citizens, crossing boundaries of consciousness as easily as they cross boundaries of culture. Gondry decorates his love story with deliberately low-tech special effects, including cellophane made to look like bath water and a subconscious television studio constructed largely of corrugated cardboard. This is filmmaking with all the seams and stitches exposed, an appreciation for the patent falseness of films that nonetheless transport and enchant us. It's dreamy. —Ryan Boudinot

Secretary is a kinky love story featuring a standout performance by Maggie Gyllenhaal, an offbeat young actress in her first starring role. Gyllenhaal plays Lee, a nervous girl who compulsively cuts herself, but who then gets a job as a secretary for Edward, an imperious lawyer (James Spader, an old hand at tales of perverse affection). Edward's reprimands for typos and spelling errors begin with mild humiliation, but as Lee responds to his orders—which are driven as much by his own anxieties and fears as any sense of order—the punishments escalate to spankings, shackles and more.

Secretary walks a fine line: it finds sly humour in these sadomasochistic doings without turning them into a gag and it takes Lee and Edward's mutual desires seriously without getting self-righteous or pompous. Certainly not a movie for everyone, but some people may be unexpectedly stirred up by this smart and steamy tale of repressed passion. —Bret Fetzer

Serenity is a film that, by rights, shouldn't have been made. For starters, it's spun out of the short-lived and quickly-cancelled TV series Firefly, which has only itself got the full recognition it deserves on DVD. It then marries up two seemingly incompatible genres, the western and science fiction, has no major stars to speak of, and pretty much has `hard sell' written all over it.

Perhaps that explains its modest box office performance back in 2005. What it fails to reflect, however, is that this is one of the most energetic, downright enjoyable sci-fi flicks in some time. Not for nothing did many rate it higher than the Star Wars movie that appeared in the same year.

It follows renegade captain Mal Reynolds and his quirkily assembled crew, as they work on the outskirts of space, trying to keep out of the way of the governing Alliance. That plan quickly changes when they take on a couple of passengers who have attracted the attention of said Alliance, and thus the scene is set for an action-packed, cleverly written movie that deserves many of the plaudits that have rightly been thrust in its direction.

What's more, Serenity works whether you've seen the TV series that precedes it or not. Clearly fans of the Firefly show will be in their element, but even the casual viewer will find an immense amount to enjoy.

The only real problem is that given the film's box office returns, further adventures of Reynolds and his crew look unlikely. Unless Serenity turns into a major hit on DVD, that is. It's well worth playing your part in making that happen.—Simon Brew