David Fincher's homage to Hitchcock (the North By Northwest title sequence, Howard Shore's score, the Rope/Vertigo-like apartment-as-stage conceit) finds Jodie Foster as the beleaguered mum trying to stay one step ahead of Forest Whitaker, Dwight Yoakam and Jared Leto's housebreakers

Mel Brooks' 1974 spoof western isn't a patch on The Producers or Young Frankenstein, due to a lacklustre script. What memorable moments there are come courtesy of Cleavon Little's hip black sheriff, Gene Wilder's alcoholic gunfighter, Madeline Kahn's faultless Marlene Dietrich impression and Slim Pickens busting up that infamous campfire farting scene.

John Singleton's explosive debut lifted the lid on South Central LA in the early '90s, and was arguably as influential as the burgeoning wave of hip hop of the same period in bringing black urban culture to a wider audience. It's characterised by Singleton's unflinching storytelling, plus a career-best performance from Cuba Gooding Jr.

Cracking ensemble comedy drama set on the mean streets of contemporary Dublin. Colin Farrell is the petty crook out to pull a career-topping scam, Colm Meaney is the cop on the case, and there's fine support from Shirley Henderson, Cillian Murphy and Kelly Macdonald. Farrell's a ball of manic fury, but it's Meaney—who appears to believe he's living in some US TV cop show from the '70s—who steals the film.

Stylish Hong Kong gangster flick that doesn't quite realise its potential

One of the best US TV shows around, a relentlessly kinetic, breathlessly filmed and edited conspiracy and counter-espionage drama starring Jennifer Garner as CIA agent Sydney Bristow, clandestinely placed within the sinister SD6, an organisation plotting global domination. The serial plot twists, constantly shifting allegiances, reckless narrative pace and relentless action make these 22 episodes essential viewing. Brilliant.

Richard Linklater's warm-hearted comedy is elevated to late-night stoner classic status by a manic central performance from Jack Black, here masquerading as a substitute teacher in a posh American private school who educates his privileged pre-teen charges in matters RAWK. Great, throwaway fun.

Robert Aldrich's most profitable movie presents war as mean-spirited farce: Major Lee Marvin offers a bunch of jailed WWII Gls—including John Cassavetes, Telly Savalas, Charles Bronson and Donald Sutherland—the chance to join him on a suicide mission into Occupied France. The movie wastes its greatest actor, Robert Ryan, but it's a relentless work—violent, funny and deeply cynical.

San Francisco, 1969: do enough acid and anything is possible. A gaggle of (mostly) gay freaks and flower children (and latterly, disco diva-to-be Sylvester) become the Cockettes, a utopian, ragged-arsed theatre troupe who wow the West Coast but flop in NY. This funny, moving doc eventually unravels in a roll call of deaths, both drug and AIDS-related. They were stardust, but all too briefly.

This made Edward Burns' name as an actor-writer-director when it won Sundance back in '95 on a matchstick budget. He plays one of three Irish-American siblings trying to understand each other and the women in their lives. Straight-talking, romantic yet unsentimental, it's the kind of comedy we wish Woody Allen still made. Or, for that matter, Burns himself.