The definitive example of High Godard (that brief period after his spectacular debut, À Bout De Souffle, and before the left-wing quasi-revolutionary abstractions of British Sounds and Passion), Bande À Part is a veritable checklist of stylish and insouciant Nouvelle Vague chic. There's the casually one-dimensional protagonists, in this case pseudo-gangsters Franz (Sami Frey) and Arthur (Claude Brasseur) and their new playmate Odile (Anna Karina).
Abel Ferrara made these almost simultaneously in '95, and they're especially intense even for him. The more successfully operatic first (Chris Walken, Chris Penn, Vincent Gallo) follows a family of '30s gangsters on a revenge mission; the second's a gory monochrome vampire flick starring Lili Taylor (and Walken again). Nietzschean, neurotic.
Appallingly violent vigilante satire from Audition's Takashi Miike. The opening scenes, with the film's title spelt out in semen and the head baddie puffing smoke through his slashed-open cheeks, promise OTT entertainment. But as the plot unfolds, only the strongest stomach will handle the scenes of torture, mutilation and rape between the black laughs.
Directed by Roland Jofféand elegantly scripted by Robert Bolt, with a landmark score by Ennio Morricone, this follows Robert De Niro's ex-mercenary and Jeremy Irons' Jesuit priest during violent 18th-century South American land-grabbing. And still, there's always been something disturbing about the way the movie so eagerly endorses the underlying missionary project.
Danish director Annette K Olesen's acutely observed tragicomedy about a morose widower (Jørgen Kill) struggling to cope with the sudden death of his wife and the messy sex lives of his grown-up children. Semi-improvised and shot docu-drama style, Minor Mishaps is another slight but engaging addition to Denmark's healthy school of bleakly comic post-Dogme realism.
A Jerry Lee Lewis biopic from Jim (The Big Easy) McBride, starring an energetic Dennis Quaid as the piano-bashing, God-fearing rock'n'roller. He upsets the applecart (and middle America) by marrying the underage Myra (Winona Ryder), whose book provided the source material. Thus biased, it doesn't show the great balls it should, but Quaid amps it up.
More pint-size espionage from Robert Rodriguez as Carmen and Juni tackle an island full of monsters created by mad scientist Steve Buscemi. The cute kids factor is kept on a tight rein, there are great gizmos (and gags) galore, and the blend of Bond, Dr Seuss and Ray Harryhausen is irresistible.
Memento man Christopher Nolan's elegant cop drama with Al Pacino magnificently muted as the hollow-eyed LA cop, sent to Alaska to hunt a killer and forming a strange relationship with Robin Williams' skin-crawlingly ingratiating psycho.
