Josh Hartnett again displays his unerring knack for atrocious career choices in this low-brow, lacklustre sex comedy from the sadly-declined Heathers director. Falling for a cutie he meets at the laundromat, horny Josh swears off copulation. On hearing this, countless honeys throw themselves at him, naturally. Comedy and sex don't gel: here's proof.

Truffaut's genre-defining masterpiece of childhood alienation

Forget CDs, this is how Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett's bloodless multimedia project was always meant to be experienced: as a fancy interactive DVD stuffed with videos, storyboards, short animations, a documentary and plenty of hidden gimmicks that only resourceful 11-year-olds can locate. Extensive foraging suggests, however, that Albarn's soul is still nowhere to be found.

Tony Richardson's 1961 take on Shelagh Delaney's kitchen-sink drama of schoolgirl pregnancy is a travesty. Delaney wrote her play at 18, but its sweet sadness—heroine Jo's taste of honey is brief indeed—is obliterated by the director's clumping Brit-new-wave clichés. Fairground anyone? Rita Tushingham and Murray Melvin remain facially memorable, but acting honours go to Dora Bryan.

Remembered now as Michael Caine's debut, playing a posh officer opposite Stanley Baker, Cy Endfield's epic recreates the massacre of the Welsh redcoats by the Zulus at Rorke's Drift. Jack Hawkins runs the gamut from demented missionary to drunk, and the battle scenes are terrific.

Four magnificent hours of documentary narrated by Kris Kristofferson which trace the history of indigenous American music throughout the 20th century. Thrilling ancient footage of Muddy Waters, Hank Williams, BB King, Woody Guthrie and dozens of others drawn from the ranks of the true pioneers of blues, gospel, cajun, folk and country makes this an essential purchase for anyone with a passion for America's musical heritage.