Reviews

Van Sant's stark, poetic recreation of Columbine

This late John Wayne movie has The Duke as a Chicago cop trailing his man to London, while a hitman seeks to fulfill a contract on Wayne's life. It's middling, fish-out-of-water fare, the kind of bawdy, roustabout stuff Wayne did far too often, but by way of compensation you get Richard Attenborough as Wayne's finicky Scotland Yard sidekick.

Mesmerising Japanese study of voyeurism and eroticism. Shot in black and white but colourfully performed by Asuka Kurosawa as a repressed wife who's blackmailed by a stranger into—wait for it—masturbating in public places. In lesser hands it'd be tat, but there's a Cronenberg-like claustrophobia to the seediness. Porn, then, but arty porn.

Daltrey and Townshend struggle for the high notes, the mic-throwing and the windmilling are stagey rather than spectacular, and the sound never really comes together as the hits roll on. But it's historic stuff—Entwistle's last show, and also the great Pixelon hoax, the Internet concert that never was.

Solo album from former Reindeer Section and Snow Patrol collaborator

Scottish seven-piece deliver John Peel's favourite album of the year

High-quality laptop jazztronica from the prolific Chicago-based collective

Joni's lost '80s, retrieved and repackaged

Staggeringly diverse re-releases from Belgian label a decade ahead of its time

John Grisham adaptation asks searching questions