Bertolucci's woefully self-indulgent tale of a teenage ménageàtrois in Paris, 1968 is hampered by the preening self-obsession of his main characters, despite the director's lush cinematography. They lounge in the bath talking about cinema and stroking each other while the city burns. By the end, you're wishing the riot police had moved in earlier.

Worth owning for the way she peels off her opera gloves as the nightclub singer caught in the snake's nest noir Gilda (1946) alone. It also features Rita chased by Fred Astaire in You Were Never Lovelier (1942); shaking her stuff with Gene Kelly and a pre-Bilko Phil Silvers in Cover Girl (1944); and being a magnificent bitch to nightclub heel Sinatra in Pal Joey (1957). Lady is a vamp.

A family of nomadic shepherds in the Gobi Desert assist the birth of a rare white camel colt, buts its mother rejects it. The Mongolians send envoys in search of a magical musician to make things right. So far, so Bambl. What raises this is the direction, which shows the nomad boys coveting miracles like batteries, TV and video games without patronising their time-honoured mores.

Engrossing, gritty, Shane Meadows-style debut from Chris Cooke, wherein three boozehounds on a rehab course scheme to scam portly tycoon Hywel Bennett. The lo-fi camerawork's iffy, but after starting slowly it tightens like a vice as cocktails, weed and violence kick in. Well written and acted, and surely the only film to argue that Jean-Michel Jarre's comeback gig was better than Glastonbury.

The second of George Romero's classic zombie trilogy, from 1978. This time the blood and guts were in full colour, the make-up and effects more inventive. Much of the action takes place in a shopping mall filled with zombies lurching mindlessly around?not the subtlest of satires on consumerism, but still highly effective, and as slyly funny as it is gory.

George Lucas' debut is a dystopian 1984-style fantasy of a loveless society, starring Robert Duvall. The studio hated it, hacking five minutes out of it (here restored) for its initial 1970 release, but even though bleak and predictable, it's visually breath-taking. Speculate on where Lucas might have gone from here if only he hadn't been waylaid by Wookies.

When blackmailers try extorting businessman Roy Scheider over his fling with a stripper, he thwarts them by telling his wife—so they film the girl being murdered and threaten to frame him. At which point, it gets personal. Although co-scripted by the author, John Frankenheimer's flat 1986 movie is just another unsatisfactory Elmore Leonard adaptation. The dialogue occasionally crackles, but the casting is off and the pace drags enough to let you count the implausibilities.

Muddled, witless look at the notorious 1981 murders on LA's Wonderland Avenue, with an unconvincing Val Kilmer as faded porn star John Holmes, in over his coke-addled head in drug scams and violence. A pale cousin of Boogie Nights, its attempted narrative/ editing tricks flop badly. Kate Bosworth and Lisa Kudrow weep, and there's a scorching soundtrack (lggy, Patti, T.Rex). But kindness to the living exacerbates the mess.

Originally seen as a disappointing follow-up to the all-conquering Halloween, John Carpenter's The Fog (1980) is now more widely regarded as a classic supernatural thriller, inspired by Poe and HP Lovecraft, in which the isolated Californian community of Antonio Bay is menaced by the ghosts of a pirate horde. Masterful.

It's 1988 and rising features writer at New Republic magazine Stephen Glass has charm, style, modesty and good looks. Trouble is, his reportage is pure fiction. Billy Ray's film, based on a true story, juxtaposes two fine performances from Hayden Christensen, who plays Glass as a passive-aggressive manipulator, and Peter Sarsgaard as his editor Chuck Lane.