Melanie Griffith had a fling with stardom in this Mike Nichols comedy about an executive secretary (Griffith) who can't get her deserved shot at upward mobility in the brokerage industry. Hardly taken seriously by male bosses, things aren't really any better for her once she starts working for a female exec (Sigourney Weaver, never more delightful), a narcissist with a boy-toy banker (Harrison Ford) and a tendency to steal the best ideas from her underlings. When Weaver's character is laid up with a broken leg, Griffith poses as a replacement wheeler-dealer, flirting with Ford and working on a new client who doesn't suspect the deception. Nichols brings a lot of snap and sass to Kevin Wade's smart script about chafing against class restrictions and perceptions. Sundry scenes are played quite charmingly, especially those of Griffith and Ford's mutual pick-up in a bar and Joan Cusack's championing of Griffith's crusade. -Tom Keogh, Amazon. com.

In 1955 this lavish production of Rodgers and Hammerstein's Broadway hit The King and I, starring Yul Brynner as the King of Siam and Deborah Kerr as the governess sent to look after his children, was the most expensive film ever mounted by 20th Century Fox. The 40 sets in ripe decors by Walter M Scott and Paul S Fox included a ballroom of black marble with jade and silk tapestries and a banqueting scene with a table that gives the impression of stretching to infinity. The costumes by Irene Sharaff, notably the hoop ballroom gown for Deborah Kerr and those for the ballet "The Small House of Uncle Thomas", dazzle the eye in their delineation of Western manners and Oriental splendour. Brynner remains impressive as the King but his pidgin dialogue, inherited from Hammerstein's book, with the dropping of the definite article takes some adjustment. Alfred Newman put his unique stamp on the music: the Overture offers an example of his luminous divided string sound, the climactic ballroom scene a full bodied orchestral reprise of "Shall We Dance?" as the camera pulls away to a high angle producing an exultant visual finish to this celebrated polka. On the DVD: To view The King and I in its original format (thanks to this DVD release) is a revelation. Over the years the production values of the film have been compromised through inadequate presentation on television and video. Now the eye can appreciate once more the novelty of the wide-screen process CinemaScope 55 which offers in-depth vision, breathtaking employment of Eastman colour and an enhanced sound system that ensures a well-upholstered backdrop for the sumptuous musical arrangements under conductor Alfred Newman. DVD supplements here include the original theatrical trailer, a Movietone news of the Oscar ceremony of 56-57 and three songs lifted from the movie itself. Marni Nixon overdubbed Deborah Kerr's vocals on screen-those moments where one voice takes over from another are more clearly delineated on the DVD with the result that there is some discrepancy between Kerr's spirited playing and Nixon's over careful (rather) twee enunciation of the lyrics. [+]

One of the very finest French films released in 2000, Claire Denis' resetting of Billy Budd among modern-day French Foreign Legionnaires welds near-experimental formal minimalism with a savage exposure of male aggression, jealousy and repressed homosexual desire, all set in an eye-peeling desert setting and choreographed to the grunts of men at work. Ravaged-featured Denis Lavant plays Galoup, who narrates his story in flashback, perhaps at the moment before his life ends. A sergeant in charge of a troop of Legionnaires, Galoup's position as the favourite of the Commander (Michel Subor) is threatened by the arrival of pretty-boy Sentain (Grégoire Colin, who played the spoiled wastrel in The Dream Life of Angels). Galloup plots to discredit his rival. As the drama unfolds through indirection and Galloup's unreliable disclosures, Denis dwells lovingly on the ballet of men at work as the soldiers run through their obstacle courses, practice combat pas de deux and disport like lean, khaki-clad dolphins by the Mediterranean shore. Sort of like Full Metal Jacket meets early Derek Jarman. It's a sensuous and exquisite film, as perceptive about relationships between men as it is about those between colonisers and the colonised. -Leslie Felperin.

So that's it. The second half of Buffy the Vampire Slayer's seventh and last series confirms what we'd always half-suspected-that the whole arc of the show would turn out to be Buffy's education to the point where she makes a momentous world-saving and world-changing decision. Buffy was always a show about female empowerment, but it was also a show about how quite ordinary people can decide to make a difference alongside people who are special. And it was also a show about people making up for past errors and crimes. So, for example, we have the excellent episodes "Storyteller"-in which the former geek/supervillain Andrew sorts out his redemption while making a video diary about life with Buffy-and "Lies My Parents Told Me"-in which we find out why a particular folk song sends Spike crazy. Redemption abounds as Faith returns to Sunnydale and the friends she once betrayed, and Willow finds herself turning into the man she flayed. Above all, this was always Buffy's show. Sarah Michelle Gellar does extraordinary work here both as Buffy and as her ultimate shadow, the First Evil, who takes her face to mock her. This last set is the fine ending to one of television's most remarkable shows. -Roz Kaveney.

Director Jim Sheridan links up once more with Daniel Day-Lewis for 1997's The Boxer, a study of a violent Belfast's uneasy crossover into the peace process (they had previously worked on My Left Foot among other films). Day-Lewis stars as Danny Flynn, imprisoned in his late teens for terrorism, now out after 14 years. A once promising boxer, he's initially looking to resume what's left of his career. However, his rekindled love for Maggie (Emily Watson), daughter of local IRA boss (Brian Cox), is coupled with a need to be a part of the healing process in Northern Ireland. With the help of his former trainer (Ken Stott), he reopens a non-sectarian gym. However, the non-pacific wing of the IRA, personified by Gerard McSorley, resents Flynn, not least for consorting with Maggie, who is another IRA prisoner's wife. Day-Lewis plays Flynn as an almost spiritual figure, still caught in the introspection that enshrouded him during his years in jail. Ironically, the well-executed boxing scenes provide a respite from the air of serious violence that pervades the rest of the film, symbolised by the ominous rotorblades of the ever-present helicopters, from which much of the action of this sad, yet gripping and ultimately uplifting movie, is shot. On the DVD: Generous extras include commentaries from producer Arthur Lappin, who offers a tourist's guide to various locations, as well as one from director Jim Sheridan, who offers technical info and remarks drily of a brief, tart exchange between Maggie and Flynn, "This is an Irish love scene". There's also an alternative (though not that alternative) ending, extra scenes which probably deserved to stay on the cutting room floor and, most illuminatingly, a featurette on the movie. [+]

When Inspector Morse first appeared on television in 1987, nobody could have predicted that it would run into the next century, maintaining throughout a quality of scripts and storylines that raised the genre of the detective series to a new level. Much of its success can be attributed to John Thaw's total immersion in the role. Morse is a prickly character and not obviously easy to like. As a detective in Oxford with unfulfilled academic propensities, he is permanently excluded from a world of which he would dearly love to be a part. He is at odds with that world-and with his colleagues in the police force-most of the time. Passionate about opera and "proper beer", he is a cultural snob for whom vulgarity causes almost physical pain. As a result, he lives from one disillusionment to the next. And he is scarred-more deeply than he would ever admit-by past relationships. But he also has a naïve streak and, deep down, sensitivity, which makes him a fascinating challenge for women. At the heart of Morse's professional life is his awkward partnership with Detective Sergeant Lewis, the resolutely ordinary, worldly sidekick who manages to keep his boss in an almost permanent state of exasperation while retaining his grudging respect. [+]

Juxtaposing images of pristine, romantic innocence with ones of mute, meaningless violence, Godard's Masculin-Féminin first lulls with a hypnotic, disjointed story line and then stuns with scenes of tremendous depth and meaning. This outrageous film follows the somewhat ineffectual courtship of Madeline, an aspiring pop singer, by Paul, an erstwhile journalist and interviewer but mostly groundless searcher. As in most Godard films, plot mechanics are secondary to elements such as dialogue (generally marvellous, but sometimes a bit too pointed), lighting (bizarre and over-saturated, but nevertheless than fascinating), shot framing (extraordinarily thoughtful), and performance. Godard allows his camera to linger on single faces, without cutting, for what seems by modern standards to be extremely long segments-perhaps even excruciatingly long-but the remarkably subtle cast members never disappoint, particularly the fantastically adept and frequently hilarious lead actors, Jean-Pierre Léaud and Chantal Goya. The filmmaker has little to add to our collective understanding of the relationship between masculin et féminin writ large; in fact, most of the female characters are uncomfortably stereotypical, framed as either wilfully oblivious to the world or subtly (or overtly) deadly. But as an examination of a young generation faced with the prospect of war in Vietnam and the vagaries of French socialism, Masculin-Féminin proves remorselessly and chillingly trenchant. A towering influence, it would seem, on Whit Stillman's similarly themed Barcelona-but while Stillman lacks the conviction to follow his instincts to their logical, violent conclusions, Godard faces his uncompromising story with elegance and courage. -Miles Bethany, Amazon. com.

The second most-watched mini-series (after Roots) of all time, The Thorn Birds was originally broadcast in 1983 and captivated viewers with its story of a lifelong conflict between the spirit and the flesh. Adapted from the bestselling novel by Colleen McCullough, the production stars Richard Chamberlain as a Catholic priest named Ralph de Bricassart, whose life in Australia between 1920 and 1962 is one long torment as he pines for his lover, Meggie Carson (Rachel Ward), while seeking advancement in his clergyman career. The passion and the guilt make for compelling drama, but a stellar cast of supporting players adds muscle to the proceedings: Barbara Stanwyck (who won an Emmy for her work as Meggie's tough grandmother), Jean Simmons, Richard Kiley, Christopher Plummer, Bryan Brown and Mare Winningham. Chamberlain, who was something of the king of the mini-series form at the time, is very good in the lead, as is the often-underrated Ward. Their affair is indeed irresistible to watch, which proves to be true, too, of the story's thick weave of church politics, forbidden desire, social change over decades, and family secrets. -Tom Keogh, Amazon. com.

The most impressive new drama series to begin on British TV in recent years, Bad Girls is set in the imposing confines of Larkhall Women's Prison. The show's memorable characters include: Nicky Wade, serving a life sentence for killing the policeman who raped her girlfriend; Shell Dockley, the loud-mouthed hard-case murderer who rules the wing; Helen Stewart, the idealistic new Wing Governor whose liberal ideas bring her into conflict with the old guard amongst the warders, and Jim Fenner, Helen's sworn enemy and all-round villain of the piece, an old-school screw who uses vicious means to keep the women in order. All four, like most of the key players in the series, are played by performers who are relative unknowns, which adds considerably to the programme's credibility and impact. Some have compared Bad Girls to cult Australian drama Prisoner: Cell Block H, and there are indeed similarities. Both shows offer strong roles to accomplished actresses, both thrive on portraying a richer range of women than conventional, domestic dramas allow, and both are unashamedly melodramatic in the way they grab and wrench at your emotions. Bad Girls pulls no punches. It takes, if you'll pardon the pun, no prisoners. Emotive, gripping and brilliantly made, it's a TV classic of our times. -Andy Medhurst.