Sharon Osbourne, reviewing Series One, sighs wistfully to her son: "I wish it was back then, Jack... we were innocent then." Jack replies: "I think we've been robbed of our innocence."And it was precisely those naïve and spontaneous moments in the Osbourne family mansion that made the first series such a richly human, entertaining and unrepeatable TV experience.

Tom Stoppard directs this 1990 screen version of his ingenious 1967 play about two supporting characters from Hamlet. Stoppard opens up the play's theatrical setting well, and his brilliant dialogue remains intact. Sadly, the two leads—Oldman and Roth—are uninspiring.

Paul Verhoeven's last pre-Hollywood film (from 1983) is a minor classic. Depressed alcoholic writer Gerard Reve (a tremendous, dishevelled Jeroen Krabbé) finds succour in the arms of a vampish beautician (Renée Soutendijk) only to discover, thanks to a series of gory flashbacks, he's due for much more than a makeover. Funny and fever-ish by turns, it's Basic Instinct for surrealists.

He hasn't made a record since 1970, but the Syd Barrett legend continues to grow. Narrated by Newsnight's Kirsty Wark and first shown as a BBC documentary, this serious-minded 50-minute film examines the legacy of the Floyd's original Crazy Diamond, mostly through interviews with former band members Dave Gilmour, Rick Wright, Nick Mason and Roger Waters. They paint a harrowing picture of Barrett's disintegration, although the Madcap himself is reduced to a ghost-like presence, seen only in a few flickering frames of archive footage.

There are no headless bats in Black Sabbath—Never Say Die SANCTUARY and Ozzy doesn't even get to shout, "Sharon, how does the DVD work?" But we do find Osbourne in typically headbanging form in a 1978 Sabbath concert that includes "War Pigs" and "Paranoid". No extras, though.

We tend to damn Woody Allen's lighter comedies as 'just' comedies: if anyone else had come up with this 1993 nugget, we'd acclaim it as a pearl. Allen and Diane Keaton-telepathic together again—are paranoid that the woman next door's been bumped off; Alan Alda and Anjelica Houston stir the confusion. A wholesome whodunnit, but, chiefly, a hoot.

A pretty convoluted and derivative 2002 Bollywood outing, ranging over several years and telling the story of Suraj and Komal (Anil and Karisma Kapoor), who are estranged following the machinations of the latter's snobbish billionaire father. Heavy-handed melodrama and some risible musical sequences, reminiscent of a raunchy '80s nightmare, try the patience.

Legendary director's bleak early classic continues to gain respect

Terry Gilliam's solo directorial debut. Inspired by Lewis Carroll's poem, like Python's Holy Grail it deals with medieval muck and monsters—in this case a fearsome dragon to be slain by hapless hero Dennis (Michael Palin). Lots of good ideas and a very odd cast of British comedy talent, but mired in darkness, only the occasional laugh.

Set during the Ulster 'Troubles', Hidden Agenda begins admirably enough with director Ken Loach's usual muscular dissection of political realities. Then Maurice Roeves suddenly appears as a mysterious Captain (think Donald Sutherland's X in JFK) who implicates the RUC, the Tories, MI5 and the CIA in a grand, preposterous plan to ruin the Labour Party.