When kiddie TV host Rainbow Randolph (Robin Williams) is convicted of corruption, the network demands that his replacement be squeaky clean and beyond reproach. Enter Smoochy the Rhino (Ed Norton), who's so 'PC' it hurts. Can Smoochy learn to cope with the sleazy world of TV, or will Randolph kill him first? Despite a strong cast and Danny DeVito in the director's chair, this fails to spark.

In the late eighties that poster adorned every young man's wall, and not just because the French subtitle looked chic. However, those who sneer at Jean-Jacques Beineix's film (here available on DVD only through HMV shops), putting its charm down simply to Béatrice Dalle's deeply erotic mouth (and suchlike), miss the point. Yes, it's visually ravishing throughout (as the pinnacle of the Cinéma Du Look) but it also lives by the true definition of Romantic Art, which has tragic connotations.

Paul Newman, all Texan swagger and mesmerising Marlboro sneers, completely redefines the concept of 'iconic' as the eponymous heavy-drinking, skirt-chasing, joy-riding cattleman and self-declared "cold-blooded bastard" in Martin Ritt's 1962 classic. Able support comes from sultry Patricia Neal, suitably green Brandon DeWilde (Shane) and James Wong Howe's perfect black-and-white cinematography.

An object lesson in filming a gig, this, as Patrick Daughters (director of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' stunning "Maps" promo) captures The Rapture's nervous energies in long, unfussy, elegant shots. Recorded last Christmas, the quartet still resemble—happily—enthusiastic grad students who've stumbled on the ideal disco/punk hybrid. But Daughters exploits this, making them—especially soulful-eyed frontman Luke Jenner—look at once gawky and iconic.

Luchino Visconti's kitsch allegorical melodrama is set in Germany in 1933 and describes the corruption of the wealthy Von Essenbeck family in the face of the Nazi menace. And so, within a few short scenes, they go from fireside home recitals to transvestitism, rape, murder, same-sex orgies, massacres and motherfucking (literally). Made in 1969, it's clearly very political. But that's no excuse.

A single indiscretion with a besotted servant (a young Toshirô Mifune) starts an inexorable downward spiral for young noblewoman O-Haru. Disgraced, she and her parents are sent into exile, but it soon becomes clear that a woman with a tarnished reputation has very little chance of making good in 17th-century feudal Japan. With ravishing black-and-white cinematography and an austere formality in the direction, Kenji Mizoguchi's 1952 masterpiece is a beautifully crafted example of a past era in Japanese film-making.

A superb lyrical antidote to the countless guns-and-gangs depictions of life in the black communities of LA, Charles Burnett directs Danny Glover as Harry Mention, a man who stirs up past tensions when he comes to visit old family friends. With an excellent blues, gospel and jazz soundtrack to boot.

Two full German performances from 1976 and 1977, with the master craftsman showing how it's done on acoustic, slide and electric guitars. Caught in his prime, we see him play early favourites—"Pistol Slapper Blues" "Banker's Blues" and "Messin' With The Kid"—alongside later fare usually found on his compilations. And the rock'n'roll jam with a woozy Frankie Miller is deliciously informal.

Affectionate, often very funny Christopher Guest comedy that gently sends up the American folk scene that Dylan fiercely put paid to. It's no Spinal Tap and probably not as hilariously fresh as Best In Show, but Guest and his familiar repertory company—co-writer Eugene Levy, Michael McKean, Harry Shearer, Catherine O'Hara and Parker Posey among them—turn in typically irresistible performances.

This charming but thoroughly odd film from 1970 sees Richard Harris play John Morgan, an eccentric British aristocrat kidnapped by the Sioux in the American Wild West in the early 19th century. Reflecting the liberal concerns of the time, the film is meticulous in its re-creation of Indian customs, particularly the gruesome Sun Vow initiation.