Seven years in the making, this is Anup Singh's dreamy cinematic tone poem (lots of kites and rivers) based on the life and work of acclaimed Indian film-maker Ritwik Ghatak. Adopting a brave, artistic, and not entirely successful motif, Singh follows two symbolic protagonists, male and female, as they re-enact scenes and themes from Ghatak's seemingly sacred canon.

November 1979. Bob Marley is already stricken with the cancer that will soon kill him. He's in the middle of a US tour that will take in 47 dates in 49 nights. By the time he reaches the Santa Barbara County Bowl, he's exhausted. He looks tired and has a cold he can't shake off. The throb in his cancerous toe is a constant reminder that he's dying. And yet he sounds magnificent.

Made by Jack Hazan and David Mingay, this film follows Ray Gange as he packs in his job to roadie for The Clash. The sight of Strummer, Jones and co acting out scenes from their daily lives is strangely endearing, and as a record of pre-Thatcher Britain, it's fascinating.

Trapped in a sweaty throng of beered-up blokes, Paul Weller live can be an endurance test. In the comfort of your own home, he's great. Recorded last October, you get all the fun of a night out in Glasgow without plastic glasses crunching underfoot as Weller trawls through 30 songs (a third of them from 2002's Illumination). Whether you prefer The Jam ("A Town Called Malice"), The Style Council ("Our Favourite Shop") or his solo work ("The Changing Man"), you're unlikely to be disappointed.

There was life after prog for Utopia. After years of hi-tech bombast and electronic freakouts, the band and their music lost ballast. By 1980, they were playing new wave-inflected pop-rock and Beatles pastiches. Bassist Kasim Sulton wears a skinny power pop tie and synth whizz Roger Powell looks like a Buggle on acid. The highpoints are the extremes: Todd Rundgren crooning "Hello It's Me" and "Cliché" alone, and the group in full-tilt cosmic mode for "Initiation".

Michael Chiklis often grabs the plaudits for his portrayal of detective Vic Mackey, controlling the dealers and gang-bangers of LA's fictional Farmington with his renegade Strike Team, but this DVD release of The Shield's first series is a jolting reminder of how creator Shawn Ryan conceived it as a complex ensemble piece steeped in moral ambiguity. Ryan exposes the politics and brutality that underpin police work, while the handheld photography makes gunfights, rape and murder hideously real. Brilliant.

Rumour has it that the CIA funded Halas and Batchelor's 1954 cartoon adaptation of George Orwell's political barnyard allegory. But even though it's dated and stilted, it remains not only darkly savage anti-Stalinist satire but also a quite stunning piece of animation. Surely long overdue for a Babe-style remake?

Barbet Schroeder's outré 1976 tale of feral love between petty criminal Olivier (Gérard Depardieu) and high-class Parisian dominatrix Ariane (Bulle Ogier), complete with scrotum piercing and golden showers, was originally denied a BBFC certificate. In retrospect, the analogy between S&M and romantic power games is overplayed, but Schroeder's willingness to draw sex and death so close together is compelling.

The nominal director is Lee H Katzin, but this was entirely Steve McQueen's project. Starring and driving, his 1971 film about the famous 24-hour race was his obsession, and he was in a strange place when he made it, his paranoid quest for perfection reflected in the extraordinary cinematography of motors in motion. Barely any plot, it's all wheels, speed and engine noise. Less a movie than a machine.

The 1973 story of young fairground worker Jim (David Essex) making it as a pop star on the cusp of the '60s captures the very smell of small-time rock'n'roll dreaming. It ekes real pathos from the bloating of Jim's ego. Keith Moon's his drummer. In the sequel, Jim turns Lizard King, forgets his roots, shags around and gives manager Adam Faith headaches. Great.