Not the definitive doc currently in legal limbo, but an atmospherically filmed record of the Detroit punk pioneers' Levi's-sponsored comeback at London's 100 Club last year. Of the stand-ins for late brothers Rob Tyner and Fred "Sonic"Smith, Lemmy stars, but the celebratory thunder of the surviving trio moves most.
Highly entertaining Stephen King adaptation, stylishly directed by David Koepp, with a mesmerising Johnny Depp as a best-selling mystery writer in the throes of a messy divorce who's accused of plagiarism—and threatened with unpleasant retribution—by sinister hillbilly John Turturro. Cue havoc on all fronts, and bodies piling up very quickly indeed. Splendid.
One of the most original debuts of the past 20 years, Richard Kelly's mesmerising head trip from '2001 gets an extra 20 minutes and some soundtrack tweaks. The extra scenes slow the narrative momentum, but Jake Gyllenhaal's breakthrough role as disturbed teenager Donnie still captivates, while Kelly's astute meditations on life, death and mental illness in '80s small-town America demand your attention.
Leaving aside for a moment the issue of whether an unshown TV special from '68 could capture, as the opening credits suggest, "the spontaneity, aspirations and communal spirit of an entire era" any more accurately than, say, Catweazle or Do Not Adjust Your Set, and regardless of whether you think Beggars Banquet and Let It Bleed are the fulcrum points of a generation or just something that music critics of a certain age should learn to get over, the portents of this cryogenically preserved moment in rock time are undeniable. Look!
112 minutes of Robert Altman's floaty, wispy ambient eavesdropping in the company of Chicago's Joffrey Ballet, with producer/star Neve Campbell drifting into dance numbers, performing a few grands jetes, drifting out again, snogging non-dancing co-star James Franco, then it's back to the real troupe, dancing, rehearsing, then dancing again. A test for even the most ardent Altman fan.
Recorded in Seattle in October 1992, this concert performance by Edgar Froese's Krautrock pioneers is less dull than it may sound, with the live footage intercut with the films and graphics used for the band's dramatic backdrop projections. There's a dynamite version of "Purple Haze", but at times the music veers too far into jazz-rock noodling. And, at 45 minutes, it's hardly value for money.
The adventurous Warp offer prize videos from the likes of Chris Cunningham ("Windowlicker", "Come To Daddy") alongside promos by, among others, fellow Sheffield alumni Jarvis Cocker. Lesser known but equally arresting, Jimi Tenor's "Total Devastation" and John Callaghan's "I'm Not Comfortable Inside My Mind" help make this an intriguing alternative history of one of the UK's most far-sighted labels.
Cocteau's dissection of the decadence of youth may be an acquired taste, but in 1949 it must have been quite a shocker. Callow siblings Nicole Stéphane and Edouard Dhermithe sow emotional havoc with their quasi-incestuous games, and reap tragedy with the help of Cocteau's narrator. An atypical first film from director Jean-Pierre Melville.
Uncut recounted the tale of Fleetwood Mac's improbable reunion at length in May last year (Take 72). Now come two DVD releases commemorating the resumption of rock'n'roll's longest-running soap opera. Live In Boston is a straightforward concert film shot in September 2003 on their first tour in five years. The band clearly miss Christine McVie, the only member of the classic mid-'70s line-up not to participate, and on one level, they offer up stadium rock of the blandest kind.