Kathleen Turner stars as peachy suburban housewife Beverly Sutphin, who merrily murders most of her annoying neighbours (and anyone else foolish enough to offend her). Turner's fabulous, and John Waters' black comedy is like a blend of Disney and David Lynch. An utter delight.

Non-stop Yakuza-v-zombie action shouldn't be this boring. Director Ryuhei Kitamura knows how to stage a flesh-munching, sword-flashing set piece, but simply stringing a bunch of them together doesn't make a movie. Something to watch when you're in a stoned stupor, perhaps.

Banned in 1939 by a pre-War French government, for being 'demoralising', Jean Renoir's transparently allegorical film is set in a decadent chateau during a hunting weekend when pointed badinage, back-stabbing and partner-swapping suddenly erupt in an act of murder. Watch out for the ominous 'shooting party' scene, with heavily armed toffs turning a rabbit-hunt into a bloody massacre/metaphor.

Robert Mitchum plays the world-weary captain of a US destroyer patrolling the South Atlantic, who becomes involved in a chess-like battle of wits with noble U-Boat commander Curt Jürgens. Dick Powell's tense 1957 WWII movie is notable as one of the first to accord the Germans some respect, unfolding as a game of cat and mouse that will be played to the death.

Ben Affleck plays Marvel's blind superhero, with Jennifer Garner as his love interest (the ninja assassin Elektra), Colin Farrell as hitman Bullseye and a suitably imposing Michael Clarke Duncan as the crime lord Kingpin. The fight sequences are impressively executed, and it's a solid stab at the source material; sadly, some substandard CGI lets it down.

Colin (son of Tom) Hanks proves his worth as a responsible wannabe writer constantly thwarted by his manic stoner brother (Jack Black), drunken mum (Catherine O'Hara) and surfer dude buddies. Many most excellent jokes and comic cameos from John Lithgow and Jane Adams make this a fine Friday-nighter.

Nouvelle Vague-inspired camerawork plus a searing central turn from Carol White remain supremely effective in Ken Loach's 1965 teleplay about naïve bride Cathy (White) and her descent into poverty. The tone occasionally veers into public service hysteria, especially after the Capitalist State Apparatus removes Cathy from her tenement, fires her husband and steals her children. A landmark British film nonetheless.

After the ponderous Al and the not-as-clever-as-it-thought-it-was Minority Report, Spielberg delivers a sleek, slick 1960s-set caper movie based on a true story, with Leonardo DiCaprio as the teen con artist attempting to stay one step ahead of Tom Hanks' FBI agent. Leo's smug, Hanks is nerdish, but Spielberg carries off the action with flair.

Writer Jean Genet's sole completed film (albeit only 25 minutes long), despite his lifelong fascination with cinema. Once outlawed due to the presence of an erection, this erotic fever-dream of prison-cell sexual tension represents a remarkable distillation of Genet's poetic themes and preoccupations. The transfer of this 1950 classic is pristine.

Like a title fight between the two greatest actors of their generation, The Young Lions cares less about adapting Irwin Shaw's anti-war bestseller (which it subsequently mangles) than allowing Montgomery Clift's neurasthenic Private Ackerman and Marlon Brando's fey Nazi officer to out-Method each other on camera. Though the two icons only share one incidental scene, their separate contributions are still electrifying.