By the early-to-mid '80s, Nico was holed up in Manchester on the comeback trail junkie habit in tow. A live performance at the Library Theatre, Heroine is a funereal study of stark cool, drawing on The Velvet Underground—"All Tomorrow's Parties", "Femme Fatale"—alongside rather less celebrated fare from Camera Obscura (1985) and Drama Of Exile (1981). The inferior An Underground Experience places her in a nameless club—haunted, drawn and distant.

A document of their 1994 Dog Man Star tour, this captures Suede just about surviving the notorious crisis of losing that album's principal architect, Bernard Butler. Still, Brett Anderson bumps and minces with considerable verve and new boy Richard Oakes oozes confidence nevertheless. More interesting are the accompanying tour films, dedicated to Derek Jarman and visibly influenced by said director's Smiths promos. DVD EXTRAS: Lyrics menu, rare NFT video footage, teaser for accompanying Lost in TV DVD.

The first gig since Castlemorton to make front-page news, Fatboy Slim's massively over-attended 2002 beach-front hoedown was greeted as armaggedon by the Daily Mail but, as this film shows in fact consisted of a bald man in a Hawaiian shirt playing 19 records very loud. Watch 200,000 ecstatic bodies moving in unison to "Born Slippy", though, and you'll realise the Mail had a point. Goosebump-inducing. DVD EXTRAS: Interview with and full commentary by Norman Cook, choice of playing the tracks in your own order.

Pulp's early-'90s videos for "Babies" and "Lipgloss" perfectly capture that periods new optimism, while the promos for "Common People" and "Disco 2000" were Britpop's peak visual moments. But it's the extras on this three-hour DVD that provide evidence of Jarvis Cocker's surreal ubiquity back then: impersonations courtesy of Harry Hill, Chris Morris and Mr Blobby, appearances on This Morning With Richard & Judy and Da Ali G Show, and a take-off on Stars In Their Eyes.

Comedy terrorist Chris Morris writes and directs this extended riff on what could have been one of his more unsettling TV sketches—think Kafka remixed by Chris Cunningham. Paddy Considine, a talking dog, a demonic baby and a nerve-jangling soundtrack blur the line between black humour and abstract art. More please. DVD EXTRAS: Runner's commentary, alternative 5.1 mix, original radio monologue, dog animation, remix of the film by Cartel. (SD)

Set in and around a half-built rubble-strewn suburb of nowhere Vienna, pounded by summer sunstroke, and featuring brutal scenes of rape and battery, Dog Days is a bracing blast of arthouse nihilism from Austrian auteur Ulrich Seidl. And like a bleak psychotropic Short Cuts, the success of this multi-character piece depends on how the viewer responds to Seidl's remarkable yet savagely pessimistic world view.

Why 511? Because, on June 2, 2002, New Order performed in front of 10,000 rain-lashed revellers at Finsbury Park, and their 16-song set list comprised five Joy Division tracks and 11 by the band they became following the suicide of Ian Curtis.

Atmospheric 1967 Norman Jewison thriller, and its weaker 1970 sequel from Gordon Douglas. The first, which won Oscars for Best Picture and Rod Steiger, is dryly observed, with Steiger's bigoted Southern sheriff warming to Sidney Poitier's detective as they solve a murder—a big anti-racism statement in its time. The second takes Poitier's Tibbs character to San Francisco, for no pressing reason.

Director Peter Watkins' mid-1960s work for the BBC still shines. Culloden recreated the famous battle as if covered by a modern news team—a radical approach for the time. More controversially, The War Game showed that nuclear war was an unwinnable nightmare, and was consequently banned by the Beeb, though it picked up an Oscar when released theatrically in 1966.

Seymour Hoffman tour de force as grieving loner