After building up the duo's popularity through popular recordings and several performances on Saturday Night Live, John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd—as "legendary" Chicago blues brothers Jake and Elwood Blues—took their act to the big screen in this action-packed hit from 1980. As Jake and Elwood struggle to reunite their old band and save the Chicago orphanage where they were raised, they wreak enough good-natured havoc to attract the entire Cook County police force. The result is a big-budget stunt-fest on a scale rarely attempted before or since, including extended car chases that result in the wanton destruction of shopping malls and more police cars than you can count. Along the way there's plenty of music to punctuate the action, including performances by Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, Cab Calloway and James Brown that are guaranteed to knock you out. As played with deadpan wit by Belushi and Aykroyd, the Blues Brothers are "on a mission from God", and that gives them a kind of reckless glee that keeps the movie from losing its comedic appeal. Otherwise, this might have been just a bloated marathon of mayhem that quickly wears out its welcome (which is how some critics described this film and its 1998 sequel). Keep an eye out for Steven Spielberg as the city clerk who stamps some crucial paperwork near the end of the film. —Jeff Shannon, Amazon.com

There is greatness in film that can be discussed, dissected, and talked about late into the night. Then there is genius that is right in front of our faces—you smile at the spell it puts you into and are refreshed, and not a word needs to be spoken. This kind of entertainment is what they used to call "movie magic" and there is loads of it in this irresistible computer animation feature. Just a picture of these bright toys on the cover of Toy Story looks intriguing as it reawakens the kid in us. Filmmaker John Lasseter's shorts (namely Knickknack and Tin Toy, which can be found on the Pixar video Tiny Toy Stories) illustrate not only a technical brilliance but also a great sense of humour—one in which the pun is always intended. Lasseter thinks of himself as a storyteller first and an animator second, much like another film innovator, Walt Disney.

Lasseter's story is universal and magical: what do toys do when they're not played with? Cowboy Woody (voiced by Tom Hanks), Andy's favourite bedroom toy, tries to calm the other toys (some original, some classic) during a wrenching time of year—the birthday party, when newer toys may replace them. Sure enough, Space Ranger Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) is the new toy that takes over the throne. Buzz has a crucial flaw, though—he believes he's the real Buzz Lightyear, not a toy. Bright and cheerful, Toy Story is much more than a 90-minute commercial for the inevitable bonanza of Woody and Buzz toys. Lasseter further scores with perfect voice casting, including Don Rickles as Mr. Potato Head and Wallace Shawn as a meek dinosaur. The director-animator won a special Oscar "For the development and inspired application of techniques that have made possible the first feature-length computer-animated film." In other words, the movie is great. —Doug Thomas

John Lasseter and his gang of high-tech creators at Pixar create another entertainment for the ages. Like the handful of other great movie sequels, Toy Story 2 comments on why the first one was so wonderful while finding a fresh angle worthy of a new film. The craze of toy collecting becomes the focus here, as we find out Woody (voiced by Tom Hanks) is not only a beloved toy to Andy but also a rare doll from a popular 60s children's show. When a greedy collector takes Woody, Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) launches a rescue mission with Andy's other toys. To say more would be a crime because this is one of the most creative and smile-inducing films since, well, the first Toy Story.

Although the toys look the same as in the 1994 feature, Pixar shows how much technology has advanced: the human characters look more human, backgrounds are superior, and two action sequences that book-end the film are dazzling. And it's a hoot for kids and adults. The film is packed with spoofs, easily accessible in-jokes and inspired voice casting (with newcomer Joan Cusack especially a delight as Cowgirl Jessie). But as the Pixar canon of films illustrates, the filmmakers are storytellers first. Woody's heart-tugging predicament can easily be translated into the eternal debate of living a good life versus living for forever. Toy Story 2 was deservedly a huge box-office success. —Doug Thomas, Amazon.com

Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon is so many things: an historical epic on a grand scale, an Asian martial-arts flick with both great effects and fantastic fighting (choreographed by The Matrix's guru Yuen Wo Ping), a story of magic, revenge and power played with a posse of star-crossed lovers thrown in for good measure. Set during the Qing dynasty (the late 19th century), the film follows the fortunes of righteous warriors Li Mu Bai and Yu Shu Lien (Asian superstars Chow Yun-Fat and Michelle Yeoh, respectively) whose love for one another has lain too long unspoken. When Li Mu Bai's legendary sword Green Destiny is stolen by wilful aristocrat's daughter Jen (exquisite newcomer Zhang Ziyi), who has been trained in the way of the gangster by Li Mu Bai's arch-rival Jade Fox, the warriors must fight to recover the mystical blade. The plot takes us all across China, from dens of iniquity and sumptuous palaces to the stark plains of the Western desert. Characters chase each other up walls and across roof and treetops to breathtaking effect, and Tan Dun's haunting, Oscar-winning East-West inflected score.

Directed by Taiwanese-born Ang Lee and co-written by his longtime collaborator American James Schamus, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon joins the ranks of the team's slate of high-quality, genre-spanning literary adaptations. Although it superficially seems like a return to Ang's Asian roots, there's a clear throughline connecting this with their earlier, Western films given the thematic focus on propriety and family honour (Sense and Sensibility), repressed emotions (The Ice Storm) and divided loyalties in a time of war (Ride with the Devil). Nonetheless, a film this good needs no prior acquaintance with the director's oeuvre; it stands on its own. The only people who might be dismissive of it are jaded chop-socky fans who will probably feel bored with all the romance. Everyone else will love it. —Leslie Felperin

On the DVD: As might be expected this superb anamorphic widescreen version of the original 2.35:1 theatrical ratio presents Peter Pau's spellbinding cinematography in its full glory; the same goes for the Dolby 5.1 audio track that showcases Tan Dun's haunting score. Annoyingly, however, the default language option is the dubbed English soundtrack, which means you have to select the original Mandarin version before playing. The extra features are good but not exceptional, with an obligatory "making-of" documentary and commentary from Ang Lee and James Schamus being the best options: the director and producer/cowriter chat amiably and in some detail about their martial arts version of Sense and Sensibility. But it's the breathtaking delight of the seeing the movie in such quality that really counts, and this disc does not disappoint. —Mark Walker

Amazingly, Ang Lee's Hulk makes a fair fist of pleasing everybody. The latest in a run of Marvel Comic-to-film transfers, it acknowledges the history of a character who dates back to 1962 while recreating him in contemporary terms. Though this, Hulk's origin still draws on the 1960s iconography of bomb tests and desert bases, this new take mixes gene-tampering with gamma radiation and never forgets that poor Bruce Banner (Eric Bana) has been psychologically primed by a mad father (Nick Nolte) and a disappointed girlfriend (Jennifer Connelly) to transform from repressed wimp to big green powerhouse even before the mad science kicks in.

The long first act is enlivened by comic book-style split-screen effects and multiple foreshadowings—Lee keeps finding excuses to light Bana's face green—but is also absorbing personal drama from the man who gave you The Ice Storm before flexing his action muscles on Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon. When Banner begins his Jekyll-and-Hyde seizures, the ILM CGI boys step in and use Bana as a template for the most fully-realised digital characterisation yet seen in the movies. Comics fans will thrill as a credibly bulky, superswift, super-green behemoth tangles with mutated killer dogs (including a very vicious poodle) in a night time forest, bursts out of confinement in an underground secret base, takes on America's military might while bouncing around a Road Runner and Coyote-like South Western desert and then invades San Francisco for some major "Hulk... smash" action. Artful and entertaining, engaging and explosive, this is among the most satisfying superhero movies.

On the DVD: Hulk two-disc set doesn't quite hulk-out as well comparative Marvel movie releases for the X-Men films, Spider-Man and Daredevil. Disc 2 assembles a pile of those infotainment documentaries prepared to drum up pre-publicity but which feel a bit redundant once the movie is out, especially since there's so much repetition between the featurettes. It's all very well, and some of the technical stuff is fascinating, but this particular film could do with a more in-depth thematic approach: there's a lot about how the CGI Hulk was realised but little on the development of the story, the performances or the general tone, though Ang Lee's slightly sparse commentary makes interesting stabs in that direction. The biggest revelation in the background material is that Lee, known for his delicacy of touch, himself wore the motion capture suit and smashed up plywood tanks as a guide for the CGI animators. —Kim Newman

Emma Thompson scores a double bull's-eye with Sense and Sensibility, a marvellous adaptation of Jane Austen's novel. Not only does Thompson turn in a strong (and gently humorous) performance as Elinor Dashwood—the one with "sense"—she also wrote the witty, wise screenplay. Austen's tale of 19th-century manners and morals provides a large cast with a feast of possibilities, notably Kate Winslet, in her pre-Titanic flowering, as Thompson's deeply romantic sister, Marianne (the one with "sensibility"). Winslet attracts the wooing of shy Alan Rickman (a nice change of pace from his bad-guy roles) and dashing Greg Wise, while Thompson must endure an incredibly roundabout courtship with Hugh Grant, here in fine and funny form. All of this is doled out with the usual eye-filling English countryside and handsome costumes, yet the film always seems to be about the careful interior lives of its characters. The director, an inspired choice, is Taiwan-born Ang Lee, here making his first English-language film. He brings the same exquisite taste and discreet touch he displayed in his previous Asian films (such as Eat Drink Man Woman). Thompson's script won an Oscar. —Robert Horton

How well you respond to Richard Linklater's A Scanner Darkly depends on how much you know about the life and work of celebrated science fiction writer Philip K. Dick. While it qualifies as a faithful adaptation of Dick's semiautobiographical 1977 novel about the perils of drug abuse, Big Brother-like surveillance and rampant paranoia in a very near future ("seven years from now"), this is still very much a Linklater film, and those two qualities don't always connect effectively.

The creepy potency of Dick's premise remains: The drug war's been lost, citizens are kept under rigid surveillance by holographic scanning recorders, and a schizoid addict named Bob Arctor (Keanu Reeves) is facing an identity crisis he's not even aware of: Due to his voluminous intake of the highly addictive psychotropic drug Substance D, Arctor's brain has been split in two, each hemisphere functioning separately. So he doesn't know that he's also Agent Fred, an undercover agent assigned to infiltrate Arctor's circle of friends (played by Woody Harrelson, Winona Ryder, Rory Cochrane, and Robert Downey, Jr.) to track down the secret source of Substance D. As he wears a "scramble suit" that constantly shifts identities and renders Agent Fred/Arctor into "the ultimate everyman," Dick's drug-addled antihero must come to grips with a society where, as the movie's tag-line makes clear, "everything is not going to be OK."

While it's virtually guaranteed to achieve some kind of cult status, A Scanner Darkly lacks the paranoid intensity of Dick's novel, and Linklater's established penchant for loose and loopy dialogue doesn't always work here, with an emphasis on drug-culture humor instead of the panicked anxiety that Dick's novel conveys. As for the use of "interpolated rotoscoping"—the technique used to apply shifting, highly stylized animation over conventional live-action footage—it—it's purely a matter of personal preference. The film's look is appropriate to Dick's dark, cautionary story about the high price of addiction, but it also robs performances of nuance and turns the seriousness of Dick's story into... well, a cartoon. Opinions will differ, but A Scanner Darkly is definitely worth a look—or two, if the mind-rattling plot doesn't sink in the first time around. —Jeff Shannon

As with George Lucas's other movie franchise, there's a vein of mysticism running through the Indiana Jones Trilogy. Watching all three back-to-back it's possible to unravel the chronology and chart the spiritual journey of our hero: the idealistic Young Indy ("It belongs in a museum", implores River Phoenix in the opening escapade of The Last Crusade) grows up to become a cynical fortune-hunter seen trading archaeological treasures with Chinese gangsters at club "Obi-Wan" in The Temple of Doom. From there we follow his path to redemption via three mystical religious objects: respectively Hindu (the Shankara stones in Temple of Doom), Jewish (the Ark of the Covenant in Raiders), and Christian (the Holy Grail itself in Last Crusade).

But that's just the subtext. Along the way, this knight-errant archaeologist undertakes improbable adventures (featuring spiders, snakes, rats, insects and Nazis galore), rescues damsels in distress (even when they really don't want to be rescued, such as Kate Capshaw in Temple of Doom), and still finds time to bond with his dad (Sean Connery, in one of cinema's great cameo roles as Dr Jones Sr.)

Steven Spielberg revels in Lucas's recreation of 1930s cliff-hanger serials, infusing every scene with kinetic energy and infectious enthusiasm and creating any number of iconic sequences that have become touchstones of cinematic history. Director and producer are more than ably assisted by regular composer John Williams, whose swashbuckling Korngold-inspired "Raiders" theme casts Harrison Ford as a modern-day Errol Flynn. Although a fourth movie is promised, this trilogy plays like a self-contained whole that leaves nothing wanting: from the witty dialogue and breathtaking action choreography to the near-perfect casting, this is popular movie-making at its very peak.

On the DVD: The Indiana Jones Trilogy four-disc box set, as has been widely noted, contains the slightly edited version of The Temple of Doom—1 min 6 seconds of cuts according to the BBFC—though this is exactly the same version that was originally shown in UK cinemas and released on video (missing is a bit of extra blood and gore during the heart-ripping scene). By way of compensation, the digitally remastered anamorphic 2.35:1 picture and Dolby Digital 5.1 sound for all three movies are joyfully impressive, the screen crammed full of colour and rich detail accompanied by one of Hollywood's most glorious soundtracks. The fourth bonus disc contains about three hours of additional material, most of which can be found in the new 127-minute documentary that takes the viewer chronologically through the making of the series and includes plenty of interviews and fascinating nuggets of background information. There are also independent featurettes "From the Lucasfilm Archives" on John Williams's music, the sound design, stuntwork and the special effects. There are subtitles in various European languages. —Mark Walker

Watching Baz Luhrmann's award-winning Moulin Rouge is a lot like falling in love. It is total immersion cinema and while you're experiencing it ("watching" is too passive a word) you can't imagine that cinema could be for anything else. In the harsh, objective post-viewing daylight Lurhmann's gaudy spectacular might seem like a triumph of glossy style over any genuine substance, but as the film unfolds Lurhmann subjects his audience to a such a barrage of overtly stylised music, dance, colour, design and human passion that the senses are overwhelmed and critical faculties put on hold for the duration.

The story is paper-thin, but that's hardly the point. Nicole Kidman's courtesan Satine falls for poor poet Ewan McGregor while pledged to a psychotic English Duke. The show goes on, of course, and we know it will end in tragedy—because that's the sort of story this is, and the only thing that makes it bearable is the knowledge that it's all just brilliant artifice. The third of Luhrman's "Red Curtain" trilogy (after Strictly Ballroom and Romeo + Juliet), Moulin Rouge reinvents musical cinema, acknowledging its debt to past masters like Vincente Minnelli (Gigi) and Michael Powell (The Red Shoes), but taking in the best of rock video along the way. The incessant MTV-style editing might seem like a distraction, but in the end a film insane enough to include Jim Broadbent's cover of "Like a Virgin" defines its own genre rules.

On the DVD: this double-disc package sets new standards of presentation while also having an ideally appropriate light-heartedness. The extra features are as inventive in their use of the format as the film itself. Highlights include not one but two commentaries—one by Luhrmann, his designer and his cinematographer, the other with Lurhmann and his fellow scriptwriter Craig Pearce. We get two videos of "Lady Marmalade" and there are also uncut dance numbers, for example the fabulously dark Tango sequence in all its detail, which come with alternate camera angles so that you can edit your own version. There are whole segments on the glittery costumes, the three-dimensional model of Paris and the transformation of Kylie Minogue into the Green Fairy of absinthe. The film is presented in anamorphic widescreen (formatted for 16:9 TVs) with a visual aspect ratio of 1.85:1 and has lush, velvety Dolby Digital 5.1 or DTS 5.1 sound options. —Roz Kaveney

Adapted from the long-running stage version, this big-screen Chicago is a non-stop singing and dancing extravaganza that may well herald the welcome revival of the film musical. When the part-time lover of wannabe star Roxie (Renee Zellweger) is murdered, she is banged up with Chicago's most famous singing murderess, Velma (Catherine Zeta-Jones). They compete for the attention of the best lawyer in town, Billy Flynn (Richard Gere). Drawn to the special angle of Roxie's case (the sweetest killer to hit Chicago), Flynn offers her a taste of stardom and her daydreams of singing on stage are juxtaposed with the action.

Chicago has transferred well to film, seamlessly merging Dennis Potter-esque dream sequences with the action. Though the stage show uses sets sparingly, here the look has been heavily influenced by the only successful musical of recent times, Moulin Rouge, with heavy velvets and drapery offering a rich feel to the murky underworld of 1920s Chicago clubs. The hot question is: can the movie stars cut it as performers? Surprisingly, it is Zellweger who looks most comfortable in the part, regardless of her awkward dancing. Zeta-Jones is just that little bit too butch to be believable as a flapper girl, despite her stage school roots, and lacks a certain panache. But one thing is in her favour: she's believable as the ultimate starlet bitch. Gere does not fare much better, with his tap-dancing sequence littered with cutaways (mercifully his dancing and singing is kept to a minimum). The real show-stealer is Queen Latifah, whose matron of the cells is perfect and her singing spot-on. More than anything else, though, this film will whet your appetite to see the original on the West End stage. —Nikki Disney

On the DVD: Chicago on DVD demonstrates that the producers of Rob Marshall's Oscar-winning film obviously took to heart the lyrics "Give 'em the old Razzle Dazzle", as the widescreen 1.85:1 anamorphic transfer is rich with the lush colours, vibrant tones and sparkling audio that wowed audiences in the cinema. If only the extras had been given the same treatment. There's nothing like the plethora of special features that greeted fans of Moulin Rouge here; there is a grand total of three: a passable director's commentary, a deleted song, "Class", which is so dull you don't question why it didn't make the final cut, and a making-of feature, which is entertaining but nothing new. All in all, there's a very disappointing and unimaginative selection. —Kristen Bowditch

Will Farrell followed up his star-making vehicle Elf, which matched his fine-tuned comic obliviousness to a sweet sincerity, with a more arrogant variation on the same character: Ron Burgundy, a macho, narcissistic news anchor from the 1970s. Along with his news posse—roving reporter Brian Fantana (Paul Rudd, Clueless), sports guy Champ Kind (David Koechner), and dim-bulb weatherman Brick Tamland (Steve Carell, Bruce Almighty)—Burgundy rules the roost in San Diego, fawned upon by groupies and supported by a weary producer (Fred Willard, Best In Show) who tolerates Burgundy's ego because of good ratings. But when Veronica Corningstone (Christina Applegate, View from the Top) arrives with ambitions to become an anchor herself, she threatens the male-dominated newsroom. Anchorman has plenty of funny material, but it's as if Farrell couldn't decide what he really wanted to mock, and so took smart-ass cracks at everything in sight. Still, there are moments of inspired delirium. —Bret Fetzer

Inspired by the "Space Seed" episode of the original series, the classic swashbuckling scenario of Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan was much more of a success with fans than the somewhat turgid drama of Star Trek: The Motion Picture. The film reunites newly promoted Admiral Kirk with his nemesis from the earlier episode—the genetically superior Khan (Ricardo Montalban)—who is now seeking revenge upon Kirk for having been imprisoned on a desolated planet. Their battle ensues over control of the Genesis device, a top-secret Starfleet project enabling entire planets to be transformed into life-supporting worlds, pioneered by the mother (Bibi Besch) of Kirk's estranged and now-adult son. While Mr. Spock mentors the young Vulcan Lt. Saavik (then-newcomer Kirstie Alley), Kirk must battle Khan to the bitter end, through a climactic starship chase and an unexpected crisis that will cost the life of Kirk's closest friend. This was the kind of character-based Trek that fans were waiting for, boosted by spectacular special effects, a great villain (thanks to Montalban's splendidly melodramatic performance), and a deft combination of humour, excitement, and wondrous imagination. Director Nicholas Meyer (who would play a substantial role in the success of future Trek features) treats the film as "Horatio Hornblower in space", and then adds lots of spicy seafaring Moby Dick references, plus a sprinkle of Shakespearean tragedy and World War II submarine thriller, all driven along by one of composer James Horner's finest scores. Wrath of Khan set the successful tone for the films that followed. —Jeff Shannon, Amazon.com

Brutal and breathtaking, Sin City is Robert Rodriguez's stunningly realized vision of Frank Miller's pulpy comic books. In the first of three separate but loosely related stories, Marv (Mickey Rourke in heavy makeup) tries to track down the killers of a woman who ended up dead in his bed. In the second story, Dwight's (Clive Owen) attempt to defend a woman from a brutal abuser goes horribly wrong, and threatens to destroy the uneasy truce among the police, the mob, and the women of Old Town. Finally, an aging cop on his last day on the job (Bruce Willis) rescues a young girl from a kidnapper, but is himself thrown in jail. Years later, he has a chance to save her again.

Based on three of Miller's immensely popular and immensely gritty books (The Hard Goodbye, The Big Fat Kill, and That Yellow Bastard), Sin City is unquestionably the most faithful comic-book-based movie ever made. Each shot looks like a panel from its source material, and director Rodriguez (who refers to it as a "translation" rather than an adaptation) resigned from the Directors Guild so that Miller could share a directing credit. Like the books, it's almost entirely in stark black and white with some occasional bursts of color (a woman's red lips, a villain's yellow face). The backgrounds are entirely digitally generated, yet not self-consciously so, and perfectly capture Miller's gritty cityscape. And though most of Miller's copious nudity is absent, the violence is unrelentingly present. That may be the biggest obstacle to viewers who aren't already fans of the books and who may have been turned off by Kill Bill (whose director, Quentin Tarantino, helmed one scene of Sin City). In addition, it's a bleak, desperate world in which the heroes are killers, corruption rules, and the women are almost all prostitutes or strippers. But Miller's stories are riveting, and the huge cast—which also includes Jessica Alba, Jaime King, Brittany Murphy, Rosario Dawson, Benicio Del Toro, Elijah Wood, Nick Stahl, Michael Clarke Duncan, Devin Aoki, Carla Gugino, and Josh Hartnett—is just about perfect. (Only Bruce Willis and Michael Madsen, while very well-suited to their roles, seem hard to separate from their established screen personas.) In what Rodriguez hopes is the first of a series, Sin City is a spectacular achievement. —David Horiuchi, Amazon.com