An immaculate digital restoration job, including muffle-free audio, silky silver monochrome and original 'pillarbox' framing, adds an unnerving contemporary kick to Fritz Lang's 1931 masterpiece. Detailing the slavering hunt for bug-eyed child murderer Hans Beckert (Peter Lorre) through a dark and hostile, shadow-filled Berlin, this is the original, if not the best, serial killer flick.

Directed by the hugely uncompromising Robert Aldrich, this ferocious post-Wild Bunch western stars Burt Lancaster as a world-weary army scout at odds with callow cavalry officer Bruce Davison on a mission to hunt down the errant Apache chief Ulzana, who with a small band of warriors has broken out of the reservation and are now looting, killing and raping their way across the bleak southwestern territories. Much tampered with by the studio on its original 1972 release and the subject of heated debate about its depiction of the Apaches, the film is in fact both complex and intelligent in its

From Shohei Imamura—one of several 'legendary Japanese masters' none of us have ever heard of—comes a genuinely surreal fable of a man searching for hidden treasure who finds a complex erotic gush-out with a lonely young woman who's turned on by water. It's often beautiful to look at, though the orgasmic writhing sections are unintentionally hilarious.

Potentially ridiculous premise about a cabal of gamblers who harness the power of, er, luck, is admirably sustained by gutsy turns from Leonardo Sbaraglia as a lucky plane crash survivor mentored by lucky earthquake survivor Eusebio Poncela in order to take revenge on casino owner and lucky holocaust survivor Max Von Sydow. Fractured narrative, arty mise-en-scène and punchy pacing from director Juan Carlos Fresnadillo also help.

Gung-ho navy flyboys Willem Dafoe and Brad Johnson, disillusioned with America's half-hearted prosecution of the war in Vietnam, attempt to hurry the conflict to a conclusion by taking it upon themselves to bomb Hanoi. Hilarious macho nonsense from John Milius at his most demented, in other words.

One of the most revered of Krzysztof Kieslowski's "10 commandments" series, the late director's determinedly bleak parable investigates a pointless murder and a lawyer's subsequent near-existential defence. Out the same year ('88) as A Short Film About Love, its intensity made the Polish maestro a global name.

Screenplay by the author Calder Willingham, generic domestics handled by Duvall's Pop and Diane Ladd's Mom, sexual disruptions dispensed by major-outfitted, Oscar-nominated Laura Dern as the teenage housekeeper. Her Rose has an earned rep, but Mom leaps to her defence. Mom's had enough of the South, too. The Button, Lukas Haas, pants and ogles from the sidelines.

The latest in the excellent Classic Albums series turns to the Floyd's masterpiece—and given such dubious contenders as Meat Loaf and Judas Priest have already featured, the surprise is that it's taken this long. The hour-plus documentary follows the familiar mix of archive footage (ranging back to the early days with Syd Barrett) and current interviews, in which David Gilmour in particular comes across as hugely entertaining. And what makes it a classic album?

They may not be the most charismatic bunch ever to tread a rock'n'roll stage, but Doves sure know how to put on a fine show. Recorded live in the extraordinary location of the Eden Project in Cornwall during the summer of 2002, the Manchester trio storm through a rousing set of uplifting tunes, in which "Pounding" and "There Goes The Fear", from their latest album, The Last Broadcast, are inevitably the highlights. EXTRAS: Arguably even better than the main feature.

Compilation of documentary, videos and live footage marking the 35th anniversary of the Krautrockers. Though their backgrounds were in jazz and classical, they blasted rock into the future via its first principles through repetitive, improvised sessions. This DVD has live material from Cologne and a '76 slot on TOTP playing their one hit, "I Want More". The live footage is irretrievably '70s in its visual mixture of the garish and dismal but the music's way out and beyond. Interviews confirm the cerebral underpinning of this most deceptively primal of bands.