DVD, Blu-ray and TV

Directing, co-writing and starring, Matt Dillon does a pretty solid job. Set in a modern-day Cambodia full of outcasts and fugitives, the plot slowly curdles from globe-trotting crime thriller into primal psycho-weirdness. Dillon never shakes off the second-hand influences, notably David Lynch and Apocalypse Now, but a rich cosmopolitan texture is added by an eccentric cast including Gerard Depardieu, Stellan Skarsgård and James Caan.

Since much of B&S' cult appeal stems from the fact they're seldom seen on telly, this two-hour compendium of videos, concerts and interviews (basically their entire career from 1996 to 2002) feels like a sneaky peep into the world's most secretive band. Unashamedly twee, but eccentric, funny, and quite beautiful.

Originally a TV mini series, this is a satisfying, three-hour adaptation of Larry McMurty's offbeat and poignant take on Calamity Jane and Wild Bill Hickok. A strong cast (Anjelica Houston, Sam Elliott, Peter Coyote) get blown off the screen by Jack Palance as a grizzled, dusty old trapper.

Name-checked by everyone from Thurston Moore to The Strokes, US indie rock icons Guided By Voices espouse an ethic so heroically DIY it borders on the professionally suicidal. Watch Me Jumpstart profiles their idiosyncratic career, via Banks Tarver's charming, lo-fi documentary, extensive live footage and an engaging selection of the band's videos to date.

Matthew Barney's extraordinary Cremaster Cycle has won outrageous accolades: "greatest living artist", "best fusion of art and cinema since Buñuel", etc. This is the climactic 31-minute scene of that epic, and it's every bit as wildly mind-boggling as you'd hope. Barney scales the Guggenheim Museum-staircase, assaulted by molten Vaseline, tapdancing girls, metal bands and a cheetah. The perfect intro to a warped genius.

All four movies from the interstellar belly-bursting-baddie franchise in extended form, plus five discs of extras

John Cassavetes' last movie looks like 'one for the studio' compared to the ragged glories of his greatest independent films; in fact, Cassavetes claimed he was the film's director in name only. Though bland, it's still a bizarrely watchable spoof thriller, riffing on Double Indemnity, with Alan Arkin as the harassed insurance man who becomes involved in a scheme to bump off Beverly D'Angelo's husband, Cassavetes regular Peter Falk, so he can then afford to send his a cappella-singing musical prodigy triplets to university. Nuts, lightly salted.

In 1999, Beavis & Butthead creator Mike Judge made his first foray into live action with this good-natured satire on the mind-numbing life of the white-collar worker. Ron Livingstone is the drone desperate to escape his corporate existence, whose attempts to get sacked leave a team of troubleshooters convinced he's management material. Jennifer Aniston co-stars. Over-looked, but often screamingly funny.

Sequenced in reverse chronological order, these videos show Stipe in his element and Buck very much not in his, counting the seconds till he gets to go home. Still, thanks to Stipe, R.E.M. were always enhanced by video. The collection begins with "Bad Day", before Stipe's face de-wrinkles as we regress into the starkly exuberant "What's The Frequency, Kenneth?" and arresting "Everybody Hurts". Then Stipe regains his hair for "Losing My Religion".

This marks Tian Zhuangzhuang's return to directing after a nine-year ban by China's authorities. Zhichen visits old school friend Liyan in a bombed-out town in post-war China. Though welcomed by the household, Zhichen's relationships with the family break down when he rekindles a romance with his childhood sweetheart—now Liyan's wife. Exceptional cinematography and sensitive performances are let down by a clumsy screenplay and drawn-out pacing. Shame.