Uncut

Eric Rohmer's 1981 movie stars Béatrice Romand as Sabine, a twentysomething Parisienne who, fleeing an unhappy affair, resolves to find and wed Mr Right. Meeting Edmond, a young lawyer, she promptly decides she's got her man, and is soon obsessed with the idea of their getting married—little realising that Edmond fails to second that emotion. Meticulously assembled and exquisitely performed, it's a tart, gently mocking but poignant parable.

A Kyoto skyscraper is contrasted with a crematorium chimney, gravestones abound, as do sinister black crows. And yet despite the lugubrious undertow of this, Yasujiro Ozu's penultimate movie (made two years before his death), there's a warmth to the tale of the Kohayagawa family, their ailing business and their eccentric patriarch that somehow transforms post-war angst into sublime acceptance.

Stunningly underrated, ferocious portrait of Wild Bill Hickok

Possibly Mike Figgis' least-known film, this moody 1991 erotic mystery is like Stormy Monday set in Binghamton, NY. A writer visits his dying mother and uncovers secrets about a 30-year-old murder while shagging his friend's wife. It looks sexy, but the moodiness leads to tedium, and Kim Novak's heinously wasted.

Munich, 1918, where (fictional) art dealer Max Rothman (John Cusack) befriends and encourages the young artist Adolf Hitler (Noah Taylor). But Max is Jewish... Even if the overall results are a bit glib and predictable, both of the central performances are terrific—especially Taylor, whose Hitler is a creepily believable human being.

Shekhar Kapur directed this third version of AEW Mason's regimental romance about the Sudanese war. Unfortunately, his ambitions to turn it into a critique of British imperialism are drowned under James Horner's glutinous score and colourless performances from the vapid Heath Ledger and chums. Notable exception—Djimon Hounsou, as the noble nomad who saves our brave English boys from a fiery desert hell. There's also one great battle scene.

Dour, long-winded erotic thriller, directed by Jane Campion like her favourite recent films have all been made by Joel Schumacher. Meg Ryan, apparently auditioning for a re-make of Klute, is the New York teacher shagging Mark Ruffalo's homicide cop who she begins to suspect is a serial killer. Bollocks, frankly.

Robert Altman's offbeat '70s transposition of Chandler's noir classic

Filmed last year in Nashville, this finds Skynyrd—now under the leadership of JohnnyVan Zant—still plying their raucous brand of southern blues-rock, wheeling out the hits (notably "Sweet Home Alabama", "Travelin' Man" and "Free Bird") to an enthusiastic crowd. This is noticeably well-filmed with superior sound quality.

Another random trawl through the Whistle Test archives proves perhaps just too random—it's unlikely fans of Half Man Half Biscuit (their 1986 TV debut) or The Jam ('78's "'A' Bomb...") will be tempted by strange bedfellows like Supertramp and Chris Rea. So something for everyone but far too diverse a range to fully satisfy any camp.