DVD, Blu-ray and TV

This 1938 Frank Capra outing may have won an Oscar but its tale of the son of a wealthy family (Jimmy Stewart) looking to buy up the property of Lionel Barrymore's cheerful brood of eccentrics (who include an improbably youthful Jean Arthur), is over-treacled with Capra-esque sentimentalism. Stewart's role is underplayed, the plot is slow-moving and the comedic pickings lean.

Sharon Osbourne, reviewing Series One, sighs wistfully to her son: "I wish it was back then, Jack... we were innocent then." Jack replies: "I think we've been robbed of our innocence."And it was precisely those naïve and spontaneous moments in the Osbourne family mansion that made the first series such a richly human, entertaining and unrepeatable TV experience.

Tom Stoppard directs this 1990 screen version of his ingenious 1967 play about two supporting characters from Hamlet. Stoppard opens up the play's theatrical setting well, and his brilliant dialogue remains intact. Sadly, the two leads—Oldman and Roth—are uninspiring.

Enduringly popular epic, directed with vigorous panache by Richard Fleischer. Kirk Douglas and Tony Curtis are terrific as the feuding half-brothers, sons of hugely-bearded Viking warlord Ernest Borgnine, and there's an admirable amount of rowdy quaffing, hearty pillaging and general mayhem.

The sequel to Robert Rodriguez's maniacally good Spy Kids, with budding-Bonds Alexa Vega and Daryl Sabara up against a rival team of adolescent agents and the monsters of mad scientist Steve Buscemi's fantasy island. Suggesting a Ray Harryhausen movie invaded by the screwball surrealism of a Looney Tunes cartoon, it ups the first film's formula of candy-coloured cool stuff for kids and in-jokes for grown-ups. Quite fantastic.

Glam's loveable Black Country bovver boyz expose the grim realities of the rock'n'roll lifestyle

Set at the death of the samurai age, Japanese master Nagisa Oshima's first feature in 13 years charts the disruption of a militia barracks by the arrival of Ryuhei Matsuda's androgynously beautiful young swordsman. A partial return to the erotic obsession of In The Realm Of The Senses, it's a bleak but mesmerically beautiful movie where realism balances with dreamy stylisation.

The clinically style-obsessed Tony Scott might not have been everybody's choice to helm a Tarantino script just as St Quentin was white-hot (seems a while ago now, huh?), but he made a splendid 1993 pulpy pot-boiler which, in sum, outshines its pithy but disjointed parts. Christian Slater and Patricia Arquette are the doomed Detroit lovers-on-the-run with a suitcase of coke, negotiating baroque badlands after Slater kills sleazoid pimp Gary Oldman and his comedy dreadlocks. Everyone who's anyone turns up to harass the couple and their sad dad Dennis Hopper.

A Bosnian and a Serb share a trench in this Oscar-winning anti-war film which uses farce and satire to convey its message. The director's an experienced documentary maker; there's truth in his portrayal of an absurd conflict. Sadly the late, great British actress Katrin Cartlidge, ever one to support worthy causes, is miscast as an egocentric reporter.

A cult favourite back when our people were fair and had stars in their hair, this addled 1974 sensory epic follows legendary surfer and cameraman George Greenough's search for the perfect wave. Set to the ping-pongs of Pink Floyd's "Echoes", the final 20 minutes are surf-cinema's equivalent of 2001's Stargate sequence—but it's for boardheads and Floyd completists only. Give us Point Break any day.