To the ranks of shows too brilliant and outrageous for prime time (The Ben Stiller Show, Andy Richter Controls the Universe), add Seth McFarland's Family Guy. This animated series, which debuted after the 1999 Super Bowl, simply sparked too much controversy and offended too many sensibilities to survive (Entertainment Weeklydubbed it "the Awful Show They Just Keep Putting on the Air"). That the Fox network also played hackysack with its schedule, ensuring viewers would not be able to find it, sealed its fate (it was cancelled in 2002). This boxed set containing all 28 episodes from the first two seasons is payback for the show's devoted cult following, who may be moved to echo the words of infant Stewie Griffin, the megalomaniacal 1-year-old bent on matricide and world domination: "Victory is mine!"

The dysfunctional Griffins of Quahog, Rhode Island, invite comparisons to The Simpsons. The testicular-chinned father, Peter Griffin, is a clueless oaf in the Homer mold. "Peter, what did you promise me last night?" asks his long-suffering wife Lois in one episode. "That I wouldn't drink at the stag party," he replies. "And what did you do?" she asks. "Drank at the stag part—oh ho ho, I almost walked into that one," he cackles. Other family members include teenage daughter Meg, a desperate high school social pariah; 13-year-old son Chris, a chip off his father's blockhead; and Brian, the family's sarcastic talking dog. But this series' true inspiration is football-pated Stewie (voiced by McFarlane, who earned an Emmy), who was born to be a Bond villain once he escaped his mother's "ovarian bastille."Family Guyrecklessly ventured where The Simpsonsfeared to tread. In one episode, Meg's one and only friend turns out to be the member of a suicidal cult. In another, Death (voiced by Norm McDonald) becomes an unwanted houseguest. Each episode plays fast and furious with surreal flashes (in one episode, Peter turns his house into a puppet) and pop-culture references and TV, movie, and commercial parodies that invite repeated viewings. Freed from its own family-hour bastille and the whims of dim network executives, Family Guycan be appreciated at last on its own profane, sacrilegious, and irreverent terms. Welcome to the DVD family, Griffins. —Donald Liebenson

Family Guylives! That's great news for the devoted fans who watched in record numbers the reruns on Cartoon Network and made the Family GuyDVDs bestsellers. It's bad news for Mel Gibson, Christina Aguilera, Justin Timberlake, Jimmy Fallon, Rob Schneider, Skeet Ulrich, Corey Haim, My Two Dads, and other pop-culture detritus this show's writers take infinite delight in kicking when they're down (or up, for that matter). The long, long, awaited fourth season begins with a bravado broadside at Fox, which canceled Family Guyin 2002. Peter Griffin (voiced by series creator Seth MacFarlane) recites a litany of 29 doomed replacement shows beginning with Dark Angeland ending with Greg the Bunny. From there, it's like the Griffins never left. The 13 episodes are just as dense with bodily function jokes, surreal nonsense, gratuitous pop-culture references (the more obscure, the better), and edgier gags that recklessly cross the line on any number of levels ("Maybe I was wrong about you," Jodie Foster says to John Hinckley in the episode, "Model Misbehavior.""Maybe I was wrong about all men.").

The new season rewards longtime viewers with appearances by such series icons as the Greased-Up Deaf Guy and the Evil Monkey in Chris's closet, and makes no concessions to newcomers to the show (who will no doubt be scratching their heads over the more than two-and-a-half-minute digression in "Blind Ambition," in which Peter's nemesis, the Giant Chicken, returns to continue the smackdown that started in the season 2 episode "Da Boom." In "World Domination: The Family GuyPhenomenon," one of the bonus features included on this three-disc set, MacFarlane proclaims these new shows to be "the best we've done." A bold claim, but often enough, one is laughing too hard to prove otherwise. One minute, Family Guydazzles with inspired animation (In "Breaking Out Is Hard to Do," Chris reaches for a carton of milk at the supermarket and finds himself pulled in to A-ha's classic music video, "Take on Me"). The next, it's wallowing in vomit ("8 Simple Rules for Buying My Teenage Daughter"). In addition to the freewheeling episode commentaries, this set also includes a great bonus, excerpts of cast "table reads" of two episodes. Back to the "World Domination" featurette. MacFarlane states, "It's the first time since we've been doing (the show) that I think it's safe to say that we're here to stay for awhile." Are you listening, Fox? —Donald Liebenson

It's not that the folks at Pixar are geniuses when it comes to DVDs... well, come to think of it, their fifth DVD set shows these folks are wizards. It's not just that the two discs are packed with watchable extras that hardly reiterate the same information; it's how they are handled—funny, inventive, with a light touch—unlike many PR-driven discs. A good place to start is the filmmakers' jolly commentary track, which branches off into 31 minutes of behind-the-scene stuff, deleted scenes, and curious anecdotes (they can also be watched separately). Pixar's first making-of documentary is a most concise and interesting 25-minute examination that also sheds light on how the company works. With a digital-to-digital transfer, the film looks great and is available in widescreen or reformatted to full screen. The "Family Fun" disc includes another Pixar made-for-the-DVD gem, the 7-minute "Exploring the Reef" with Jean-Michel Cousteau (Jacques's son) being upstaged by Dori and Marlin; it's a hoot and teaches a fact or two you will remember about reefs. Both discs feature lovely menus that can be turned into virtual aquariums for your TV (by removing the text) featuring the knockout colors of the film's settings. Watch long enough for some shenanigans from the film's characters and vocal talent. Genius, pure genius. —Doug Thomas

Heavy on atmosphere and light on everything else, From Hellis visually impressive while lacking the depth of the acclaimed graphic novel it's based upon. Making their third feature since 1993's Menace II Society, twins Allen and Albert Hughes approach the Jack the Ripper case with physical precision, re-creating the gritty Whitechapel district of 1888 London in meticulous detail. What they've forgotten is the sheer terror that gripped Whitechapel in the wake of the Ripper's slaying of five prostitutes, investigated here by a Scotland Yard sleuth (Johnny Depp) who uses opium, laudanum, and absinthe to fuel his semiprescient visions of the slayings. Heather Graham attempts a slippery Cockney accent as a would-be victim, while Ian Holm steals the show as a has-been surgeon with devilish delusions of grandeur. Violence is obliquely suggested or briefly graphic, but no matter how you cut it, From Hellis only marginally thrilling as it treads familiar territory. —Jeff Shannon

Set in the year 3000, Futuramais the acme of sci-fi animated sitcom from Simpsonscreator Matt Groening. While not as universally popular as The Simpsons, Futuramais equally hip and hilarious, thanks to its zippy lateral-thinking contemporary pop cultural references, celebrity appearances (Pamela Anderson and Leonard Nimoy are among a number of guest stars to appear as disembodied heads in jars), and Bender, a distinctly Homer Simpson-esque robot. Part of Futurama's charm is that with decades of sci-fi junk behind us, we've effectively been living with the distant future for years and can now have fun with it. Hence, the series stylishly jumbles motifs ranging from Lost in Space-style kitsch to the grim dystopia of Blade Runner. It also bridges the gap between the impossible dreams of your average science fiction fan and the slobbish reality of their comic reading, TV-watching existence. Groening himself distinguishes his two series thus: "The Simpsonsis fictional. Futuramais real."

The opening season (premiered in 1999) sees nerdy pizza delivery boy Fry transferred to the 31st century in a cryogenic mishap. There, he meets the beautiful, one-eyed Leela (voiced by Married with Children's Katey Sagal) and the incorrigible alcoholic robot Bender. The three of them join Fry's great (great, great, etc.) nephew Professor Farnsworth and work in his intergalactic delivery service. Hyper-real yet strangely recognizable situations ensue—Fry discovers he's a billionaire thanks to 1,000 years' accrued interest, Leela must fend off the attentions of Captain Kirk-like Lothario Zapp Brannigan, and Fry accidentally drinks the ruler of a strange planet of liquid beings. —David Stubbs

Just Causeis a film that relies on phony plot twists and steals openly from any other thriller that it can remember. If there was a drinking game requiring players to drink during every cinematic "homage," you'd be tanked after Just Cause's first 45 minutes. Take one case of racial injustice, place it in an exotic, exquisitely photographed location (the Florida Everglades), and bring in an outsider, played by a bankable star, to save the day. Make sure nothing appears as it seems. Add a couple of plot twists, some over-the-top character actors (Ed Harris, shamelessly riffing on Hannibal Lecter), stir, and serve. The big name in this case is Sean Connery, who plays a Harvard law professor summoned to the swamps by an apparently innocent death row inmate (Blair Underwood), who swears he didn't rape and kill that 11-year-old girl. He says he confessed because maverick psycho-cop Tanny Brown (Laurence Fishburne) made him play a solo game of Russian roulette. He says his Serial-killer neighbor on death row (Harris) committed the crime. Connery buys it, the audience buys it, and how could they not? Director Arne Glimcher (who made the lackluster Mambo Kings) coerces everyone with simplistic plot manipulations. Characters are given no depth, and the actors are pawns moved about like pieces on a Clue gameboard. —Dave McCoy