DVD, Blu-ray and TV

Roger Vadim brazenly raised the bar for unashamed hot nymphette action with his landmark 1956 debut, starring his then wife Brigitte Bardot as a horny St Tropez orphan who drives sophisticated men to violent destruction by rubbing her own breasts, lifting up her skirt and dancing with black men. The Betty Blue of its day.

From the mid-'30s, the film-makers' film-maker at his peak. Le Crime De Monsieur Lange is a hymn to the rebellious working class. La Bête Humaine (based on Zola's novel) is a prototype noir, with train driver Jean Gabin seduced by murderous Simone Simon. WWI classic La Grande Illusion casts Gabin as a POW bent on escaping a German camp run by Erich von Stroheim. It was banned by Goebbels, who labelled it "cinematographic enemy No 1".

Great, gritty, noir-ish French thriller from '82, a controversial sensation in its homeland. Writer/director Bob Swain (an American who'd lived in Paris for 20 years) casts Richard Berry as the undercover cop who uses informers to bust pimps. He presses prostitute Nathalie Baye to betray the alpha gangster. The climactic action recalls The French Connection.

Broad comic remake of feminist chiller

Left limbless, deaf, dumb and blind by a WWI landmine, US GI Timothy Bottoms is locked away in a hospital. Considered beyond medical help, he drifts in memories and fantasies, until, years later, he finally finds a way to communicate—to little avail. Based on his 1939 novel, this 1971 anti-war parable was the only film directed by blacklisted scriptwriter Dalton Trumbo. At times awkward, it's nonetheless driven by an acute, angry intelligence. Hard to forget.

Denys Arcand reunites the Quebecois characters who made '86's The Decline Of The American Empire so witty and engaging, and despite their age, disillusion and failing health, they're as intellectually provocative as before. Yes, it's talky, but as one lies dying, his friends reminisce about days of drugs and libido, and his son finds a backbone. A moving, note-perfect Oscar-winner.

When it was released in his native Hong Kong in August 1990, John Woo's brutal Vietnam-era epic Bullet In The Head was a box office disaster. Speaking to Uncut in April 2003, Woo remembered: "When we did the premiere, people just walked out...I felt totally exiled." Coming just over a year after the brutal massacre of students in Tiananmen Square, it's perhaps no surprise that the movie—called Die xue jie tou in Woo's native Cantonese, aka Bloodshed In The Streets—was too complicated, too downbeat, too pessimistic. And it is.

Gus Van Sant's Palme d'Or-winning take on the Columbine massacre makes for understandably difficult viewing. Van Sant deliberately shoots the movie flat and spare, looping the story, Rashômon-style, through numerous viewpoints. The Groundhog Day tedium of school life and the blank-eyed stares of the killers are chilling.

Shot in 1929 by German émigré EA Dupont, this sinuous, shimmering melodrama centres on a London nightclub where the sensuous table-top shimmy of scullery girl Sho-Sho (Anna May Wong) catches her boss' eye. Under his patronage, she's toast of the town, but stirs murderous passions. Flitting between glittering Jazz Age highlife and foul Limehouse backstreets, it exudes an atmosphere of almost illicit potency.

Although Vol 1 delivered gloriously demented energy, crazy-paving style and a skyscraper body count, Tarantino purists lamented the lack of wordy dialogue and funky gristle that would have made it a full Quentinburger with cheese. Well, here it all is in Vol 2. Sure, Uma'n'Keith (Carradine) share enough sassy lines and high-kicking homicides to hold you, but the conclusion still whimpers when it should bang.