DVD, Blu-ray and TV

Rod Stewart was a better singer than Mick Jagger—and at least as good a bottom-wiggler—but the Faces were always a poor boy's Stones, and this DVD can't rewrite history. Cheaply produced with ugly thumbnail factoids running below it, the fragmentary live footage intermittently captures the band's rootsy swagger but also reminds one of what an old tart Rodney could be. Singing "I'd Rather Go Blind" in a gold jumpsuit, he could be Freddie Mercury.

Mira Sorvino and Mariah Carey as waitresses who get mixed up with Italian mobsters? Surely one for the all-time turkey hall of infamy? Surprisingly, it's perfectly watchable—Sorvino's always been a decent actress, and Carey, believe it or not, swears like a potty-mouthed trooper and almost outshines her bosom. And doesn't sing. OK, it's no GoodFellas, but what is?

Coppola classic starring Gene Hackman as a paranoid surveillance expert

The ever-eccentric Richman continues his idiosyncratic musical odyssey. Recorded live in San Francisco in 2002, Take Me To The Plaza mostly comprises material from his last album, Her Mystery Not Of High Heels. Performing just with guitar and drums (something he was doing way before The White Stripes) his timing and wit are immaculate. But there's only "Pablo Picasso" (recently covered by Bowie) and "Girlfriend" from the old days.

You'll never eat frogs' legs again. This darkly witty 2D animation feature is full of cute moments and haunting images, if perhaps not the life-altering classic it's been hailed as in some quarters. The rotund Madame Souza buys her shy grandson Champion a bicycle, and years later, after much strictly regimented training, he's competing with the best. Then, in a fit of surrealism, he's kidnapped by shadowy men in black. Granny and faithful canine Bruno defy all logic to cross oceans and metropolises to rescue him.

Spike Lee's blazing take on 'last hours of freedom' tale

The latest of several Bob Marley documentaries on the market contains little footage of the man himself. But Spiritual Journey makes up for it with revealing interviews from the likes of son Ziggy and former Jamaican premier Michael Manley, and such fascinating archive material as BBC2's Newsnight report on Marley's funeral in 1981. The result is a thoughtful film that intelligently explains just how and why he became the Third World's first genuine superstar.

In this quasi-autobiographical account of the tortured filming of A Ma Soeur's sex scenes, formerly dour feminist director Catherine Breillat holds tongue firmly in cheek as she demolishes the petty vanities of 'movie people' (including, gamely, her own honed auteur persona) while simultaneously celebrating the alchemy of movies themselves.

James Foley back on form with a nimbly entertaining, fleetingly noir, conman romp. Ed Burns, Rachel Weisz and gang unwittingly rip off sleazy crimelord Dustin Hoffman, and are forced to pull a bank heist for him. Andy Garcia floats around, countertwist follows triple-bluff, but for all the cleverness it's pacy and energised, with a smattering of drop-dead one-liners. Makes you want to like it.

The Damned were always a proficient and exciting live band, and they still are. However, their air of danger disappeared with Rat Scabies, and it's disturbing to find a keyboard-playing goon with a perm and a drummer in a gorilla costume compounding Sensible's permissible buffoonery.