Bertrand Tavernier's epic (almost three hours) looks back at France's period of Nazi occupation from a movie-lover's perspective. A young screenwriter tries to subvert the German-controlled studios while juggling three women, and a director doubles as a Resistance fighter. It's a beautifully detailed and honest piece.

More pint-size espionage from Robert Rodriguez as Carmen and Juni tackle an island full of monsters created by mad scientist Steve Buscemi. The cute kids factor is kept on a tight rein, there are great gizmos (and gags) galore, and the blend of Bond, Dr Seuss and Ray Harryhausen is irresistible.

Another self-regarding screenplay from Andrew (The Truman Show, Gattaca) Niccol, but Al Pacino is on hand to paper over the concept's cracks. A director whose prima donna (Winona Ryder) walks out, he simulates virtual actress S1mOne ("hmm, less Streep, more Bacall"), who becomes a global superstar. Could go further, but the comedy's smart and the acting, ironically, is great.

A unique musical relationship caught in close-up

A Jerry Lee Lewis biopic from Jim (The Big Easy) McBride, starring an energetic Dennis Quaid as the piano-bashing, God-fearing rock'n'roller. He upsets the applecart (and middle America) by marrying the underage Myra (Winona Ryder), whose book provided the source material. Thus biased, it doesn't show the great balls it should, but Quaid amps it up.

A 10-disc box set focusing on the modern master of dumb-but-fun action flicks

The Fall are here brilliantly captured in their early-'80s heyday. First released on video in 1983, this is an amateurish but energetic send-up of pop promos, with Mark E Smith on hilarious form, whether skulking around an empty football ground, miming into a beer can on the video for "Kicker Conspiracy", or dancing like a basket case for "Eat Y'Self Fitter".

Danish director Annette K Olesen's acutely observed tragicomedy about a morose widower (Jørgen Kill) struggling to cope with the sudden death of his wife and the messy sex lives of his grown-up children. Semi-improvised and shot docu-drama style, Minor Mishaps is another slight but engaging addition to Denmark's healthy school of bleakly comic post-Dogme realism.

Released in 1972, Federico Fellini's extended love letter to his adopted home city is less of a linear drama than an impressionistic anthology of autobiographical memories, sketchy anecdotes and documentary-style snippets. With sumptuous cinematography by Giuseppe Rotunno and a lush Nino Rota score, Roma is a minor Fellini work but a ravishing and innovative visual symphony.

Another belter from the late Kinji Fukasaku's back catalogue. Loosely based on a true story, Fukasaku presents a chaotic swirl of gangland melodrama torn from the prison diary of a Yakuza footsoldier (Bunta Sugawara), seasoning his wild rumination on the loss of the old warrior's code with frequent bursts of histrionic Day-Glo brutality.