DVD, Blu-ray and TV

Scorsese's awe-inspiring paean to a city born through conflict

Must-see documentary puts Britpop in wider context

Siouxsie as a punk Monroe? Not quite, for despite the title, she looks more like a goth version of Marlene Dietrich in her pin-stripe suit. The jacket and tie later comes off to reveal a glittering bra as she works her voodoo on aged punks and new hedonists on the Banshees' 2002 reunion tour. Oldies such as "Spellbound", "Peek-A-Boo" and "Happy House" have lost none of their theatrical power and are augmented by one new track, an extraordinary version of The Beatles' "Blue Jay Way".

Philip Kaufman's letter-perfect realisation of Milan Kundera's student classic describes the spiritual transformation of Czech doctor Tomas (Daniel Day-Lewis, mercifully playing a 'real person') from pseudo-existentialist to moral being thanks to the loving idealism of waitress-turned-photographer Tereza (Juliette Binoche). Along the way there's a Russian invasion, an escape to Geneva, and plenty of sex with Lena Olin in a bowler hat.

Hip and hunky priest Gene Hackman leads a motley gang of passengers through many a watery danger when a freak wave flips their passenger liner upside down. Classic disaster movie stuff, with the added bonus of a sweaty and thoroughly miffed Ernest Borgnine.

The Nanny and The Blue Lamp? Just what these two anomalies are doing sandwiched together on DVD is anyone's guess. The former is a campy 1965 Hammer chiller about a bonkers nanny, played by Bette Davis in familiar kabuki make-up. The latter is a breathtakingly obsequious 1950 Ealing Studios tribute to the Metropolitan Police Force, which introduced the world to Dixon Of Dock Green.

Enjoyable coming-of-age saga from Joe Dante, set against the backdrop of the 1962 Cuban missile crisis. Huckster movie director Lawrence Woolsey (John Goodman) arrives in a small Florida town to promote his latest gimmick-laden monster flick. Goodman's great as Woolsey (obviously based on William Castle), and Dante successfully evokes the era without being overly nostalgic.

Wes Craven directed this fairly faithful adaptation of DC's horror comic muck monster: a scientist caught in a chemical explosion in a Louisiana swamp gets transformed into a vegetable superbeing. Sadly, the script's clunky and the make-up SFX are tatty beyond belief—notably, the rubber suit that makes ol' Swampy look like a giant walking turd. Result; a travesty.

Reworked by Claude Chabrol after the death of screenwriter Henri-Georges Clouzot (The Wages Of Fear, Diabolique), L'Enfer sees poor François Cluzet suspect pretty wife Emmanuelle Béart of infidelity then gradually lose it as paranoia and doubt undermine his entire existence. Beautiful, but painful to watch.

Part of a triple DVD pack, this contains footage of German TV show Beat Club, a legendary showcase for the best bands of the era. Its late-'60s archive is now a valuable resource for DVD compilers. Like a visual companion to Uncut's Acid Daze CD given away two issues ago, Psychedelic High features Donovan, Arthur Brown, the Small Faces and The Nice all overlapping with that collection. The Who and The Moody Blues also attend what is mostly a very English psychedelic tea party, although The Byrds, Blue Cheer and Canned Heat fly the American freak flag.