Damon Wayans and Adam Sandler actually work together pretty well as action-flick buddies on opposite sides of the law. The storyline is familiar, to put it mildly, as car-thief and drug-courier Sandler is set up and busted by Wayans' undercover cop, a man he's come to trust with his life. Dozens of movies, including Quentin Tarantino's great Reservoir Dogs, have tilled this fallow field before. But for once we can actually feel the bonds connecting the two tough guys, and the pain of their falling out, even when the movie dawdles over repetitious squabbling scenes. Cinematographer-turned-director Ernest Dickers.

John Badham's family-orientated adventure comedy Short Circuit, though obviously hatched in the wake of E. T. and Star Wars, manages to create its own identity through a sweet tone and an affectionate sense of fun. Military robot Number 5, a well-armed killing machine, is zapped by lightning during a test and emerges with a wacky sense of humour and a new peace-loving philosophy. Ally Sheedy (who debuted in Badham's hit WarGames) is the animal-lover whose home is sanctuary for a zoo-full of strays and who adopts the adolescent robot. Steve Guttenberg is the goofy but reclusive robotics designer who goes off in search of his creation to save him from the gun-happy army. The mix of gentle slapstick and innocent romance makes for a harmless family comedy. It veers toward the terminally cute, what with Number 5's hyperactive antics and E. T. -ish voice, and the mangled grammar of Guttenberg's East Indian sidekick (Fisher Stevens) threatens to become offensive, but Badham's breezy direction keeps the film on track. [+]

In 1933, RKO Pictures had the bright idea of pairing Dolores Del Rio and Gene Raymond for their new musical blockbuster, Flying Down to Rio. The film was a smash, but not for the reasons anyone expected. The fourth and fifth-billed stars were an RKO bit player and a Broadway man breaking into Hollywood. Their names were Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire, and their pairing in this and eight subsequent RKO films would help to rewrite cinematic history. Most of Rio's screen time is spent on a humdrum romantic triangle involving Del Rio, Raymond and Raul Roulien, but Fred (as Fred Ayres) and Ginger (as Honey Hayes) are still able to establish many of the trademarks of their later films. Ginger fronts the band (with Fred on accordion) in the saucy "Music Makes Me", and Fred does some solo tap then sings and leads the band for the spectacular airborne finale featuring chorus girls perched on the wings of biplanes. The heart of the film is "The Carioca", a company dance extravaganza that would be imitated by "The Continental" and "The Piccolino" in later films. Here Fred and Ginger take the floor together for the first time; their eyes meet and their foreheads touch. Their dance lasts only a few minutes, but it was the highlight of the film and audiences wanted more. A prophetic moment occurs toward the beginning of the dance, when, after watching for a while, Fred grabs Ginger and tells her, "I want to try this. [+]

Doris Day fans will be skipping with joy and setting curlers in their hair with excitation at the prospect of this bargain three-pack containing three of her fine films. Young at Heart: This 1954 musical remake of Four Daughters stars Doris Day as a well-bred New England woman who marries a chip-on-his-shoulder musician (Frank Sinatra). Lots of tears, yes, but this version of Fannie Hurst's novel is considerably cheered up from the 1938 tearjerker. Dorothy Malone and Elizabeth Fraser play Day's sisters (a fourth sister present in Four Daughters was written out), Robert Keith is the paterfamilias to a bunch of musical prodigies, and Gig Young is entertaining as the composer-boarder who tries deflecting the sisters' interest in him by bringing Sinatra home one day. Both Day and Sinatra really shine in this, and the songs include the Johnny Richards-Caroline Leigh title tune, which became part of Sinatra's standard repertoire. -Tom KeoghThe Thrill of It: Doris plays the wife of an obstetrician (James Garner), bored with PTA meetings and boiling catsup, who lands a job selling soap on TV, much to hubby's consternation. Lover Come Back: Rock Hudson and Doris Day had one of the sweetest chemistries in the movies-as demonstrated in several light comedies, including this film's predecessor, 1959's Pillow Talk. In both a handsome, duplicitous Hudson is duped-and then falls for-an earnest Day. In Lover Come Back, the two play Jerry Webster and Carol Templeton, rival advertising agents, vying for the same clients-until Jerry makes up a product, Vip, to get out of a scrape. As Madison Avenue catches Vip fever, Jerry falls deeper into the façade-and into love with Carol, who schemes to steal the non-existent account away from him. [+]

Tim Allen makes an impressive screen debut in Disney's well-written seasonal film The Santa Clause. Divorced toy company executive Scott Calvin is pleased to have his son Charlie for Christmas, though the boy himself isn't happy about it. But when Santa Claus accidentally topples off the roof of the house and falls with a thud in the snow, Scott finds himself taking the merry old elf's place and earning new respect in his son's eyes. When the night ends, the reindeer take them to the North Pole, and Scott discovers that by donning the fabled red suit, he's inadvertently agreed to become the next Santa Claus. The next morning he wakes up in his own bed and thinks it's all a dream-but Charlie remembers it with crystal clarity. Scott now has to deal with his suspicious ex-wife (Wendy Crewson) and her psychiatrist boyfriend (Judge Reinhold), who both think he's playing tricks with Charlie's mind, and also with his own out-of-control body, which is putting on weight and growing a prodigious beard. The Santa Clause probably won't supplant It's a Wonderful Life or Miracle on 34th Street as anyone's favourite Christmas viewing, but it's an enjoyable, straightforward family film, anchored by the affable charisma of Allen. -Bret Fetzer.

There's nothing not to like about Aardman Animations' new Creature Comforts series, belatedly inspired by their Oscar-winning short film and the subsequent spin-off TV ads that turned out to be far more memorable than the product itself ("It's got to be easily turn-off-and-onable"). But if you stop and think about it for a moment, Creature Comforts is an extraordinarily un-PC concept. First of all, identify some members of the public who are willing to drone on about trivia that's really of no interest to anyone but themselves. (Ideally they will be working class and perhaps a bit dim, although it helps if they're over-articulate in the way that dull people often are when someone suddenly feigns an interest in them. ) If they have a strong regional accent or are elderly, so much the better. Then sync up their interviews with a bunch of claymation cartoon animals, linking any extraneous noises to improbable snippets of on-screen action. Finally, sit back and watch as the very people you're patronising laugh their heads off at your efforts, thus proving that they were every bit as dim as you thought. Cynicism aside, though, the ability of the British public to laugh at themselves is a national trait worth celebrating, and it's brilliantly exploited here by the company that brought you Wallace and Gromit. On this first volume you get six episodes, of which perhaps the funniest is "Working Animals", where we learn that egglaying is "very repetitive" and meet the greyhound who can never quite get his latest bit of portentous self-analysis out before the trap opens. On the DVD: The Creature Comforts Series 1, Part 1 DVD contains just the first six 10-minute episodes of the series. [+]

I'm Alan Partridge finds Steve Coogan's media creation back in his native Norwich, having lost his beloved chat show Knowing Me, Knowing You, and now reduced to the pre-Breakfast slot playing old T'Pau and Soft Cell singles to an audience of farmers and all-night bakery workers. He's also lodged at the Linton Travel tavern, whose permanently smiling manageress, bland decor and themed buffets are redolent of what vast tracts of England have become. He's very much at home there. While there's much media satire in Partridge's pitiful pitches of programme ideas to the BBC ("Inner city sumo? Monkey tennis?"), I'm Alan Partridge is more a bleakly hilarious take on Modern Middle English Man, irascible and profoundly bored. Between innumerable moments of high, wild comedy, such as a disastrous video Partridge does for a boating agency and an encounter with his one (insane) fan, the most telling moments of the series come with his efforts to fill his dismally empty days, taking a trouser press to pieces, staring at the astro turf at an owl sanctuary or walking to a service station to buy windscreen cleaning fluid just for something to do. All this proved a little too darkly uncomfortable for mainstream audiences-yet Alan Partridge was probably the finest British comic creation of the 1990s. -David Stubbs.

For anyone who travels the congested roads of Britain these days the utterly delightful Genevieve will provoke a wistful, nostalgic sigh of regret for times gone by when there were no motorways, traffic jams were almost non-existent and friendly police motorcyclists riding classic Nortons (without helmets) cheerfully let people driving vintage cars race each other along country lanes. Even in 1953, Henry Cornelius' gentle comedy must have seemed pleasingly old-fashioned, concerned as it is with the antics of two obsessive enthusiasts on the annual London to Brighton classic car rally. The principal quartet could hardly be bettered: though John Gregson is something of a cold fish as Genevieve's proud owner, the radiant warmth of Dinah Sheridan as his long-suffering wife more than compensates. Kenneth More is ideally cast in the role of boastful rival enthusiast and Kay Kendall has possibly the best comic moment of all when she astonishes everyone with her drunken trumpet playing. Cornelius also directed Ealing's Passport to Pimlico, so his sure eye for gently mocking and celebrating British eccentricities is never in doubt. The screenplay by (American writer) William Rose now seems like an elegy to a way of life long disappeared: the pivotal moment when Gregson stops to humour a passing old buffer about his love of classic cars comes from a vanished era of politeness before road rage; as does the priceless exchange between hotel owner Joyce Grenfell and her aged resident: "No one's ever complained before", says the mystified Grenfell after Gregson and Sheridan moan about the facilities, "Are they Americans?" asks the old lady, unable to conceive that anyone British could say such things. Genevieve is both a wonderful period comedy and a nostalgic portrait of England the way it used to be. On the DVD: the "Special Edition" version of Genevieve has a decent new documentary with reminiscences from Dinah Sheridan (still radiant), the director of photography and the film's editor, who talk about the challenges of filming on location. Most treasurable of all, though, is legendary harmonica player Larry Adler, who remembers his distinctive score with much fondness and is not at all embittered by his Hollywood blacklisting, which meant he was denied an Academy Award nomination. There's also a short piece on some of the locations used (which for economic reasons were mostly in the lanes around Pinewood studios), cast biographies and a gallery of stills. [+]

Originally screened as part of BBC's Play for Today series in 1977, Abigail's Party is among Mike Leigh's most celebrated pieces, with his then-wife Alison Steadman appallingly brilliant as what Alan Bennett described as the "brutal hostess" at a ghastly suburban soiree. The Abigail of the title never appears-rather, the dull thud of her lively teenage party forms a distant backdrop (and contrast) to an excruciating evening of chilled red wine, olives and the music of Demis Roussos. Steadman plays the overbearing Beverley, an Amazonian mass of frustrated sensuality in a low-cut party frock. Tim Stern is her small, stressed estate-agent husband. The guests are Janice Duvitski as Angela, a nurse whose quite spectacular gormlessness shields her from the stilted social awkwardness quietly raging around her, John Salthouse as Tony, her taciturn husband and Harriet Reynolds as Sue, the gangly and miserably nervous mother of Abigail. Rather than play for gags, Leigh and his actors mercilessly turn the screw of embarrassment through a series of too-true-to-life exchanges of dialogue, the stuff of all our collective worst memories of encounters with neighbours, aunts and office colleagues. Often misread as a satirical parade of suburban grotesques, Abigail's Party probes deeper than that, touching on nerves of anxiety and repression that throb behind the net curtains of modern England, culminating not in farce but tragedy. Decades on, Abigail's Party is as psychologically true and close to home as ever-hard to bear but utterly brilliant. On the DVD: Abigail's Party is perfectly reproduced here in all its 1970s garishness. The one extra is a short featurette, focussing on Alison Steadman's playing of Beverley, with comments from the original actors in the TV series and Peter York marvelling at her "paint-scraping" voice. [+]

If you don't think Austin Powers is one of the funniest movies of the 1990s, maybe you should be packed into a cryogenic time chamber and sent back to the decade whence you came. Perhaps it was the 1960s-the shagadelic decade when London hipster Austin Powers scored with gorgeous chicks as a fashion photographer by day, crime-fighting international man of mystery by night. Yeah, baby, yeah! But when Powers' arch nemesis, Dr. Evil, puts himself into a deep-freeze and travels via time machine to the late 1990s, Powers must follow him and foil Evil's nefarious scheme of global domination. Mike Myers plays dual roles as Powers and Dr. Evil, with Elizabeth Hurley as his present-day sidekick and karate-kicking paramour. A hilarious spoof of 60s spy movies, this colourful comedy actually gets funnier with successive viewings, making it a perfect home video for gloomy days and randy nights. Oh, behave! -Jeff Shannon If you don't think Austin Powers is one of the funniest movies of the 1990s, maybe you should be packed into a cryogenic time chamber and sent back to the decade whence you came. Perhaps it was the 1960s-the shagadelic decade when London hipster Austin Powers scored with gorgeous chicks as a fashion photographer by day, crime-fighting international man of mystery by night. Yeah, baby, yeah! But when Powers' arch nemesis, Dr Evil, puts himself into a deep-freeze and travels via time machine to the late 1990s, Powers must follow him and foil Evil's nefarious scheme of global domination. [+]