DVD, Blu-ray and TV

Name-checked by everyone from Thurston Moore to The Strokes, US indie rock icons Guided By Voices espouse an ethic so heroically DIY it borders on the professionally suicidal. Watch Me Jumpstart profiles their idiosyncratic career, via Banks Tarver's charming, lo-fi documentary, extensive live footage and an engaging selection of the band's videos to date.

Quirky variant on the Frankenstein riff. Klaus Kinski is a scientist working on a space station with his android assistant Max404 (Don Opper, who co-wrote). Max is going through android adolescence—he's restless, sulky, curious about sex. Then a trio of escaped convicts invade, and one of them's a girl. Funny and compelling, and worth catching for Opper's geeky performance alone.

Hard to tell what's the main feature and what are the extras in this excellent four-part, three-hour package from Canada's heroes of spooked alt.country. There's an hour-long documentary on the Junkies' 2001 world tour, a Quebec festival appearance, Margo and Michael Timmins playing an acoustic set and the same pair in lengthy conversation to make it a must for all Cowboy Junkies fans.

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.

Sequenced in reverse chronological order, these videos show Stipe in his element and Buck very much not in his, counting the seconds till he gets to go home. Still, thanks to Stipe, R.E.M. were always enhanced by video. The collection begins with "Bad Day", before Stipe's face de-wrinkles as we regress into the starkly exuberant "What's The Frequency, Kenneth?" and arresting "Everybody Hurts". Then Stipe regains his hair for "Losing My Religion".

This marks Tian Zhuangzhuang's return to directing after a nine-year ban by China's authorities. Zhichen visits old school friend Liyan in a bombed-out town in post-war China. Though welcomed by the household, Zhichen's relationships with the family break down when he rekindles a romance with his childhood sweetheart—now Liyan's wife. Exceptional cinematography and sensitive performances are let down by a clumsy screenplay and drawn-out pacing. Shame.

Some may have missed the Being John Malkovich director's diverse portfolio. Spearheading a new label dedicated to maverick film-makers, this contains Jonze's rock videos—including Chris Walken's dance number for Fatboy Slim's "Weapon Of Choice"—but the real buried treasure are hilarious vox pops for Oasis' "Stand By Me" that proved too bizarre for the po-faced Mancs to release, a doc on rodeo-based Texas youth culture, and more of Jonze's goofball choreographer from Fatboy Slim's "Praise You" vid.

Ten months, twelve pupils, one teacher, one documentarian and 300 hours of footage are mixed and tweaked to produce 100 minutes of gripping observational drama set in a rural French classroom. Here, the avuncular Georges Lopez instructs his students and dispenses wisdom in equal measure, while his soft baritone rolls from day to day, season to season, like the voice of God.