DVD, Blu-ray and TV

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.

Harold Becker's tale of US Military School cadets squaring up against greedy property developers stars Timothy Hutton and a youthful Sean Penn and Tom Cruise. It's a faintly ludicrous story that works thanks to Becker's understated direction and three strong leading performances, made all the more interesting when you consider that a post-breakthrough Penn and Cruise would have been cast the other way round. Here, Cruise is the hothead and Penn the conscience-stricken man of reason.

Filmed on his final 1976 tour, before he became Yusuf Islam and rejected music, Majikat finds the artist formerly known as Cat enhancing the simplicity of songs such as "Moonshadow" and "Father & Son" with a show featuring live magicians and a stage set of Floyd-style grandeur. Less precious than on record, he proves to be a surprisingly engaging performer.

The 1932 and 1941 adaptations of Stevenson's landmark work of horror fiction on one disc. The earlier movie finds director Rouben Mamoulian going heavy on the claustrophobic atmosphere and sexual undercurrents with Frederic Marsh on Oscar-winning form as the doctor and his bestial alter ego. The later version teams Spencer Tracy (transformed via a bad wig and bushy eyebrows) with Ingrid Bergman (putting on an appalling cockney accent). Enough said.

Bafflingly shite title belies one of the great courtroom flicks of all time. A 1960 Stanley Kramer classic based on the true story of a Hillsboro professor arrested for teaching "God-bashing" Darwinism, it features effortless turns from Spencer Tracy and Fredric March as the duelling lawyers, some able support from a de-cheesed Gene Kelly, and a script bristling with one-liners.