The great French director Jean-Pierre Melville understood American movies better than the majority of Hollywood, and devoted himself to a remarkable series of terse tough-guy thrillers which claimed the term "noir" back for France. Shot on the streets of Paris dressed to look like Manhattan, this spare, razor-sharp 1962 affair has Jean-Paul Belmondo looking great as the doomed stool-pigeon at the centre of a web of deceit.

Yikes—if you haven't seen this in a while, prepare to be disappointed. By '83, the Pythons' pioneering madcap humour had descended into reliance on pointless shock tactics. It may be bold, but it's not funny. Their guide to life and death—intelligent, sure, but self-congratulatory—includes copious vomiting, bleeding, organ removal and bouncing Benny Hill Show breasts. Not their best.

It's been eight years since The Day Today transferred from its original home on Radio 4 to BBC2, positioning the show's arch mischief makers Chris Morris, Steve Coogan and Armando lannucci at the vanguard of a new wave of comedians.

David Gedge tunes his guitar. David Gedge drives to the garage. David Gedge buys a Ginster's sausage roll. That's about the sum of this inadvisable fly-on-the-wall tour documentary following Cinerama, Gedge's post-Wedding Present cinematic grunge-pop ensemble. A shame, since they're a good band with great songs (only last year they got a No 1 in John Peel's Festive 50), but as a visual accompaniment this is utterly depressing.

Like the preppy cousin of City Of God, this handsome crime flick from JoséHenrique Fonseca is set in Rio De Janeiro, but in the suburbs, where good-looking gringos kill out of curiosity rather than necessity. Unfortunately, it's also a world of paper-thin characters prone to morbid musings, and shot through with a non-descript pop-promo aesthetic.

Dazzlingly confident '96 debut from The Royal Tenenbaums' Wes Anderson which follows the misadventures of an eccentric gang of wannabe Texan mobsters. It immediately established the Anderson template: deadpan delivery, solid colours, Owen and Luke Wilson, strong musical soundtrack, immaculately cluttered production design, leisurely pace, iconic costumes, and an eerie sense of timelessness.

Gary Oldman's brutal portrayal of working-class south London life still packs a punch

The cocks may no longer be in socks but the Peppers remain hyperactive kings of white-boy funk, smack survivors turned mainstream mavericks. Their blend of infantile exuberance and brooding disdain shines in these videos. There's a Busby Berkeley routine for sleazeballs ("Aeroplane"), the definitive punk-junk ballad ("Under The Bridge") and the blood-drenched "Scar Tissue". MTV regulars don't come any more cavalier, or charismatic.

Forget the awful sequels, spin-off TV show and Tim Burton's disappointing remake. The original 1968 movie, with Charlton Heston's astronaut stranded on a world where mute, dumb humans are enslaved by civilised apes, is a sci-fi classic, thanks to Rod Serling's subversive screenplay and that final, legendary shot.

This 1977 thriller—"All The Astronaut's Men", if you will—never delivers on its intriguing premise, infuriatingly. NASA fakes a Mars landing in a TV studio, then sets out to kill the crew to keep the truth a secret. James Brolin, Sam Waterston and OJ Simpson are the astronauts, Elliott Gould the journalist who comes to their aid.