The American newspaper heiress' kidnapping and brainwashing by the self-styled urban revolutionaries of the Symbionese Liberation Army, as retold by Paul Schrader. In the title role, Natasha Richardson goes through the trauma with committed desperation, but, despite being based on Hearst's own memoir, you never feel any closer to her, even if Schrader's film is often as claustrophobic as the cupboard in which she was imprisoned for 50 days.

Throughout cinema history there have been certain flashpoints, the sparks produced when a director and an actor recognise in each other their alter ego: Ford and Wayne; Scorsese and De Niro. Perhaps the most intense of these has been the extraordinary collaborations between German visionary Werner Herzog and the fabled maniac who became his artistic double and evil twin, the late Klaus Kinski. This incredible set chronicles their tempestuous relationship via the five features they made together.

Neglected by critics, rejected by director John Huston, The Unforgiven is nonetheless an essential companion to Ford's The Searchers. Sourced from Searchers author Alan Le May, it follows (spot the reversal!) a Kyowa girl (Audrey Hepburn) raised by a white family then hunted down by her 'real' Injun relatives. The genocidal ending, complete with half-brother incest, has to be seen to be believed.

Young Haley Joel Osment is sent off to live with his eccentric but loveable great-uncles (Michael Caine and Robert Duvall) and a moth-eaten circus lion on their Texas ranch. Are the two men retired adventurers, or just bank robbers on the run? Sentimental family-fare yarn with just enough of an edge to keep it from becoming syrup.

Worth a look: Paul Schrader directs a Harold Pinter adaptation of an Ian McEwan novel, in Venice, in 1990. Rupert Everett and Natasha Richardson are trying to revive their marriage on holiday, but fall under the sinister influence of sadomasochists Christopher Walken and Helen Mirren. Venice is deeply cinematic, but Schrader opts for much nudity and is clearly in love with Everett. Creepy.

In Wolfgang Becker's entirely beguiling movie, a young East German goes to extraordinary lengths to convince his mother the world hasn't changed while she's been in a coma—which means somehow covering up the fall of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of Communism. A beautifully realised humanistic comedy.

Five photogenic college chums, one backwoods cabin, a local villager with his flesh peeling off and something nasty in the water. Eli Roth's visceral, wicked and witty bloodbath evokes George Romero panics and Evil Dead riots gone by, yet retains a strong enough sense of itself to remain more than merely the sum of its faultless influences. A (decaying) head and shoulders above other recent attempts at '70s-esque late-night retro-horror.

Filmed in '76, the conclusion to Roman Polanski's evil-rooms trilogy returns to the urban paranoia and fracturing psyches of Repulsion and Rosemary's Baby. Polanski—who'd just taken up residence in France—himself plays the vulnerable, mouse-like new occupant of a forlorn Paris apartment, whose creeping schizophrenia grows as he feels himself falling under the influence of the previous resident, a female suicide victim. A perverse slow-dazzle.

The original Mamet movie, a bravura directorial debut and a punchy manifesto, 1987's...Games pits frigid psychologist Lindsay Crouse against louche confidence trickster Joe Mantegna in the eponymous Chicago poker joint. Crouse is intrigued, Mantegna applies the charm, but soon the cons escalate and, in true Mametian style, the line between 'shark' and 'mark' disintegrates.

We'll always have Casablanca, thank God. This tale of lost souls waiting out WWII in the doldrums of a Moroccan café may well be the best film ever made—the Epstein brothers' dialogue still crackles, and the central love affair between Bogart and Bergman just keeps on pulling you in. Play it again!