Ken Russell's 1975 adaptation of The Who's rock opera cast Roger Daltrey as the deaf, dumb and blind boy who finds enlightenment, but downplayed the mysticism in favour of addled Freudian guff. It's a real mish-mash, with some truly embarrassing moments (Paul Nicholas, for one), but is redeemed by the performances of Ann-Margret and Oliver Reed, interesting cameos from Elton John and Tina Turner, and a stylish sense of design.

It's New Year's Eve 2003, and Josh Rouse is wowing a hometown Nashville crowd with an Isley-tastic version of "Under Cold Blue Stars" that virtually melts into Stevie Wonder's "My Cherie Amour". An excellent concert DVD in its own right, this gets five stars for the added Many Moods Of... documentary in which we see the BBC's Janice Long being visibly moved to tears. Watch and weep with her.

This 1978 throwback to the all-star men-on-a-mission genre of the late '60s delivers a cracking carbine-load of ripe boys' own adventure, mainly thanks to the quartet of scenery-munching hambones (Richard Burton, Roger Moore, Richard Harris, Hardy Krüger) cast as the eponymous squad of cigar-chomping Africa-bound mercenaries.

Ted Turner's pet Civil War projects, both directed by Ronald F Maxwell. 1993's Gettysburg tells the tale of the bloodiest battle ever fought on American soil while its prequel, 2003's Gods And Generals, recounts three earlier battles (Manassas, Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville) through the eyes of Joshua Chamberlain (Jeff Daniels), Stonewall Jackson (Stephen Lang) and Robert E Lee (Robert Duvall). Solid, stirring stuff, if you can sit through the three hours-plus running times of both these films.

Considering the testosterone on display both in front of and behind the camera (Mickey Rourke stars, Michael Cimino directs, screenplay by Oliver Stone), this 1985 cop thriller, with Rourke's decorated Viet Vet turned NYPD cop taking on the Triads in Chinatown, is nowhere near as deranged as you'd hope. The two set pieces—a gun battle in a Chinese restaurant and the final shoot-out—barely compensate for a disappointingly muted feel.

An exuberant two-disc anniversary set includes all the videos—the sugar-buzz of "Alright", "Late In The Day"'s pogoing in the rain, the inspired foam-puppetry of "Pumping On Your Stereo" et al. There's also home movies, unseen material, TV appearances and fresh interviews with the lads, who emerge as that rarest of musical beasts: mates first, a band second.

This one proves Tim Burton's an absolute master. Billy Crudup hears his dying dad (Albert Finney) recount his implausible life story. Ewan McGregor embodies the young Finney as these tall tales are realised with wow-factor wizardry: a giant, a war, a circus—it's Fellini with a colour box. The climax skilfully plays your scepticism off against your dreams, somehow allowing both to win. Small ponds of audience tears ensue.

Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton prompt begrudging smiles in this long, over-elaborate rom-com which tells the ageing intended audience what it wants to hear: you can still get laid at 60. It helps if you're Jack, here an incorrigible Lothario servicing Amanda Peet until he picks on someone his own age, her mum (Keaton, Oscar-nominated). Keanu Reeves and Fran McDormand make with the filler plot and chuckles.

Tense and grim war manoeuvres from director Lewis Milestone. Richard Widmark brings hints of mania to his portrayal of a Marine lieutenant leading his troops into enemy territory, scouring a battered Pacific island for prisoners who can reveal the whereabouts of a Japanese rocket base. Plagued by migraines, Widmark is a tough guy, but constantly in touch with fear he tries to mask from his men, among them the more fully neurotic Jack Palance.

It's not an exhilarating concert. Even "The Boys Are Back In Town", "Jailbreak", "Waiting For An Alibi" and "Don't Believe A Word" lack lustre, as do Phil Lynott's eyes and the dynamics of the band. The audience is polite, excepting the odd permed headbanger. Uninspiring.