On its theatrical release, James Mangold's romantic comedy Kate & Leopold was rightly panned for holes in the logic of its time-travel plot. Stewart (Liev Schreiber) finds a portal to 1876 and goes to observe his ancestor Leopold, Duke of Albany (Hugh Jackman) who then follows him back to 2001. Since Leopold is responsible for inventing a key component in lifts, this instantly causes problems. The gallant Leopold charms, and is charmed by Stewart's ex, Kate (Meg Ryan), a hard-boiled cynical marketing expert who finds in Victorian idealism a corrective to her view of the world. And this is part of the problem with the film-we cannot entirely believe in Meg Ryan as a cynic, or that her problems can be resolved by going off to 1876 to be with her aristocratic sweetie, and much of the film has an oddly sour hostility to its heroine. Hugh Jackman is a delight in the fish-out-of-water scenes and Breckin Meyer is also very funny as Kate's actor brother, who assumes Leopold is a colleague sunk deep into the creation of a part. On the DVD Kate and Leopold has crisp Dolby 5:1 sound, which allows the very different acoustics of the two historical periods to be neatly contrasted, and is presented in anamorphic 1. 85:1 widescreen. We get both the theatrical and Director's cut, both offered with commentary, though the Director's cut audio track is more polemical. The Director's cut restores some expository material and makes more sense. [+]

Richard Gere plays an enrollee at a Naval officers candidate school and Debra Winger is the woman who wants him. That's pretty much it, story-wise, in this romantic drama, which is more effective in a moment-to-moment, scene-by-scene way, where the two stars and Oscar-winner Louis Gossett Jr. -as Gere's tough-as-nails drill instructor-are fun to watch. Sexy, syrupy, with occasional pitches of high drama (Gere having a near-breakdown during training is pretty strong), An Officer and a Gentleman proves to be a no-brainer date movie. -Tom Keogh.

Steven Spielberg, proving he's one of the few modern filmmakers who has the visual fluency to be capable of making a great silent film, took a melodramatic, DW Griffith-inspired approach to filming Alice Walker's novel. His tactics made the film controversial, but also a popular hit. You can argue with the appropriateness of Spielberg's decision, but his astonishing facility with images is undeniable-from the exhilarating and eye-popping opening shots of children playing in paradisiacal purple fields to the way he conveys the brutality of a rape by showing hanging leather belts banging against the head of the shaking bed. In a way it's a shame that Whoopi Goldberg, a stage monologist who made her screen debut in this movie, went on to become so famous, because it was, in part, her unfamiliarity that made her understated performance as Celie so effective. (This may be the first and last time that the adjective understated can be applied to Goldberg. ) Nominated for 11 Academy Awards, including best picture and actress (supporting players Oprah Winfrey and Margaret Avery were also nominated), it was quite a scandal-and a crushing blow to Spielberg-when The Color Purple won none. -Jim Emerson Steven Spielberg took a melodramatic DW Griffith-inspired approach to filming Alice Walker's novel The Color Purple. His tactics made the film controversial, but also a popular hit. You can argue with the appropriateness of Spielberg's decision, but his astonishing facility with images is undeniable-from the exhilarating and eye-popping opening shots of children playing in paradisiacal purple fields to the way he conveys the brutality of a rape by showing hanging leather belts banging against the head of the shaking bed. In a way it's a shame that Whoopi Goldberg, a stage monologist who made her screen debut in this movie, went on to become so famous, because it was, in part, her unfamiliarity that made her understated performance as Celie so effective. [+]

Based on Patrick Suskind's novel about a serial killer who hunts victims with his superhuman sense of smell, Perfume: Story of a Murderer is a florid, grisly portrayal of this historical drama set in 18th century France. Jean-Baptiste Grunuis (Ben Whishaw) is born under his mother's table at the fish market, onto a pile of muddy fish guts, establishing from the beginning his repulsion for putrid scents. A childhood of neglect and, later, a job at a tannery, encourage Jean-Baptiste to develop his olfactory sense rather than his verbal skills, so that an opportunity to prove his worth to Parisian perfumist, Giuseppe Baldini (Dustin Hoffman), results in his immediate hire into a promising new career. His successes in perfume mixing are negated by a blinding obsession for capturing the sublime beauty of human soul, which in his twisted logic requires the killing of young women to reduce their body fats to essential oils for the ultimate, cannibalised eau de parfum. An omniscient narrator tells the story with much sympathy for Jean-Baptiste's perverted psychology, making it, often, too obvious that his need for love justifies his murderous desire to capture misguided sexual attractions in a vile. Continuous close-ups of Grunius's nose, countered by close-ups of the places and objects he smells, enhance the viewer's understanding of his sensitivity. Repeated comparisons are made between the killer and dogs who aid, then expose his sick experimentation. The settings are fascinating, especially Baldini's perfumery and some later scenes in enflorage factories outside Provence. Whishaw's and Hoffman's performances are both grand. But Perfume unnecessarily spells out Jean-Baptiste's psychosis, squelching any chance for metaphor. [+]

Family dysfunction. Treachery. Betrayal. Coarse profanity. Brutal violence. Graphic (and sometimes brutal) sex. No, it's not The Sopranos, it's Rome, HBO's madly ambitious series that bloodily splatters the glory of Rome just as savagely as Monty Python and the Holy Grail soiled the good name of Camelot (but with far fewer laughs; very few funny things happen on the way to this forum). Set in 52 B. C. (Before Cable), Rome charts the dramatic shifts in the balance of power between former friends Pompey Magnus (Kenneth Cranham), leader of the Senate, and Julius Caesar (Ciaran Hinds), whose imminent return after eight years to Rome after conquering the Gauls, has the ruling class up in arms. [+]

Raw, uncompromising, and brutal, the fifth season of Oz represents a turning point for the series, tying up loose ends and preparing for the closure of season 6. As with all previous seasons of HBO's hard-edged prison series, the outbreaks of violence, racial tensions, emotional bleakness, and full-frontal male nudity ensure that Oz is decidedly not for the weak of heart. Simmering animosity between the Aryans, Muslims, Sicilians, and Latinos continues unabated; these eight episodes include numerous shankings and slashings, a severed arm, strangulation, a stabbing with a crucifix, and the death (among others) of one of the series' most prominent characters. As Schillinger (J. K. Simmons) and his skinheaded Aryans exploit a naive pair of new inmates, tensions mount between the weak-willed Omar (Michael Wright, in a standout performance) and his prone-to-rage Muslim mentor Kareem Said (Eamonn Walker, also excellent); Ryan O'Reily (Dean Winters) continues to protect his volatile brother Cyril (Scott William Winters) and reunites with his mother (Betty Lynn Buckley) who's in Oz doing community service; McManus (Terry Kinney) locks horns with his ex-wife over prison policy; Alvarez (Kirk Acevado) seeks partial redemption by training a guide-dog for the guard he blinded; and Keller (Christopher Meloni) returns to the "Em City" cellblock, to the relief of his bisexual lover Beecher (Lee Tergesen) who attends "interaction" sessions with Sister Pete (Rita Moreno) to encourage tenuous peace among inmates. With subplots involving guest stars Luke Perry, Peter Criss (from Kiss), Malachy McCourt, and others, the fifth season of Oz is weak at times, but series creator and primary writer Tom Fontana keeps a lot of characters in steady play, covering impressive dramatic territory after the relatively generous allotment of 16 episodes in season 4. The series is clearly winding down here (the semi-musical episode "Variety" is a curious attempt to broaden the show's creative horizons, and works surprisingly well), and the outbreaks of violence now have a rather predictable and oppressive frequency. Anyone looking for "feel good" entertainment should stay away, but Fontana and the uniformly excellent cast maintain admirable depth of character and incident, including a tragic loss (in "Visitation") that resonates throughout the season. Extras are slim: commentary by Fontana and Dean Winters accompanies episode 8 (aptly titled "Impotence"), and like the fifth season itself, it's recommended primarily for devoted Oz viewers who've enjoyed seasons 1-4. [+]

Beginning during the dawn of Factory Records-as Tony Wilson throws himself off a cliff for Granada TV-24 Hour Party People attempts to capture the essence of the ill-fated label which spawned Joy Division/New Order, The Happy Mondays and the venue that started modern Club Culture, the Hacienda in Manchester. Director Michael Winterbottom takes a very different approach to most music biographies, by making the film self-aware that it is a film and ironically looking at its own role within the history of the "Mad-chester" scene. Inspired by Wilson's autobiographical musings, the film is narrated in character by Steve Coogan as Wilson. He offers sporadic moments from his life-his "career" as a presenter at Granada and his several marriages-which in turn influence the destructive nature of the label he founded. Coogan's Wilson gives monologues to camera which remind the audience that what they are watching is only his perspective. Yet with Coogan in the title role it's impossible to ignore the similarities between Wilson and Alan Partridge; and although this adds instant humour to the film it also instantly pins Wilson with the comic "Partridge" tag of fated fool. The cinematography, on the other hand, tries faithfully to embody the feeling of the times, from grainy celluloid for the punk-like Joy Division gigs to bright, clean-cut images for the birth of the Hacienda. The film also benefits from an amazing soundtrack and strong supporting characters. It all adds up to a picture that's purely British in character: imbued with irony, down-and-out inspiration, and a touch of the surreal. On the DVD: 24 Hour Party People comes as a two-disc set, but there really is little need. [+]

Silver-screen sports stories rarely revolve around the big and brawny, but the small and scrappy, like Sean Astin in Rudy or Toby Maguire in Seabiscuit. For Scottish cycling sensation Graeme Obree (Trainspotting's Jonny Lee Miller), the biggest obstacle isn't physical, but financial-and psychological. From 1993 to 1995, when most of The Flying Scotsman takes place, he's a bike-shop owner and courier who dreams of turning pro (Laura Fraser plays his supportive spouse). After Rev. Baxter (Brian Cox returning to his native Scotland) sets him up with supplies, and fellow courier Malky (The Lord of the Rings' Billy Boyd) agrees to manage him, Obree sets out to break the one-hour world record. He starts by building a bicycle from spare parts, a move that recalls Anthony Hopkins' eccentric racer in The World's Fastest Indian. Obree's money woes are further complicated by a battle with manic depression, which is handled sensitively, if superficially, i. e. it isn't made clear whether he ever receives treatment. Though he'll break several records before the film is over, the World Cycling Federation (represented by former James Bond villain Steven Berkoff) makes him jump through several demeaning hoops to get there. [+]

Only Joel and Ethan Coen, masters of quirky and ultra-stylish genre subversion, would dare nick the plotline of Homer's Odyssey for O Brother, Where Art Thou?, their comic picaresque saga about three cons on the run in 1930s Mississippi. Our wandering hero in this case is one Ulysses Everett McGill, a slick-tongued wise guy with a thing for hair pomade (George Clooney, blithely sending up his own dapper image) who talks his chain-gang buddies (Coen-movie regular John Turturro and newcomer Tim Blake Nelson) to light out after some buried loot he claims to know of. En route they come up against a prophetic blind man on a railroad truck, a burly one-eyed baddie (the ever-magnificent John Goodman), a trio of sexy singing ladies, a blues guitarist who's sold his soul to the devil, a brace of crooked politicos on the stump, a manic-depressive bank robber, and-well, you get the idea. Into this, their most relaxed film yet, the Coens have tossed a beguiling ragbag of inconsequential situations, a wealth of looping, left-field dialogue and a whole stash of gags both verbal and visual. O Brother (the title's lifted from Preston Sturges' classic 1941 comedy Sullivan's Travels) is furthermore graced with glowing, burnished photography from Roger Deakins and a masterly soundtrack from T-Bone Burnett that pays loving homage to American 30s folk-styles: blues, gospel, bluegrass, jazz and more. And just to prove that the brothers haven't lost their knack for bad-taste humour, we get a Ku Klux Klan rally choreographed like something between a Nuremberg rally and a Busby Berkeley musical. -Philip KempOn the DVD: This two-disc set duplicates the original single-disc release of the film which included a handful of cast and crew interviews, and adds an additional disc with more interviews, two brief behind-the-scenes featurettes about the production design and the post-production digital colouring of the film, a couple of storyboard-to-scene comparisons and a music video of "Man of Constant Sorrow". There's also a 16-minute documentary to promote the companion Down from the Mountain concert. Frankly there's not a lot here to justify spreading it across two discs: a more pleasing not to say generous offering would have been to cram all these extras onto Disc 1 and give us Down from the Mountain as the second disc. -Mark Walker.