Fill a bowl with alpine strawberries, break out the Château Lafite (1899, of course) and bask in Brideshead Revisited, the 1981 miniseries based on Evelyn Waugh's classic novel, adapted for the screen by John Mortimer (Rumpole of the Bailey). In his breakthrough role, Jeremy Irons stars as Charles Ryder, a disillusioned Army captain who is moved to reflect on his "languid days" in the "enchanted castle" that was Brideshead, home of the aristocratic Marchmain family, whose acquaintance Charles made in the company of an Oxford classmate, the charming wild-child Sebastian. Anthony Andrews costars as the doomed Sebastian, whose beauty is "arresting" and "whose eccentricities and behaviour seemed to know no bounds". The "entitled and enchanted" Sebastian takes Charles under his wing ("Charles, what a lot you have to learn"), but vows early on that he is "not going to let [Charles] get mixed up with [his] family. " But mixed up Charles gets. He becomes a friend and confidante, not to mention a lover, to Sebastian's sister Julia (Diana Quick). Meanwhile, the self-destructive Sebastian's life spirals out of control. Brideshead Revisited boasts a distinguished ensemble cast, including Laurence Olivier in his Emmy Award-winning role as the exiled Lord Marchmain, Claire Bloom as Lady Marchmain, and the magnificent John Gielgud as Charles's estranged father. Grand locations and a haunting musical score make this a memorable revisit of an irretrievable bygone era. -Donald Liebenson.

British films about sex are fairly rare, and mostly embarrassing: from the painfully anxious (Brief Encounter) to the hopelessly naff (the Carry On films). What a treat then is Rita, Sue and Bob Too, Alan Clarke's filming of a stage play by young Andrea Dunbar. It's an unsentimental, gleefully lewd comedy about shagging. Tagged for its cinema release in 1987 as "Thatcher's Britain with its knickers down", it even provoked a minor moral hullabaloo in the newspapers. Rita (Siobhan Finneran) and Sue (Michelle Holmes) are two giggly Bradford lasses stuck on a ramshackle housing estate. They keep themselves in fags by occasional baby-sitting for nouveau riche couple Bob (George Costigan) and Michelle (Lesley Sharp). Bob fancies himself rotten, but Michelle has ruled that sex is off the menu. So one night, driving Rita and Sue home, Bob detours to the Yorkshire moors and offers the girls a little something extra in his front seat. Rita and Sue decide to grab it while they can. Alan Clarke's cult following is founded on his bleak, brilliant films about violent young men (Scum, The Firm, Made in Britain). [+]

The film that effectively launched the star careers of Robert Carlyle, Ewan McGregor and Jonny Lee Miller is a hard, barbed picaresque, culled from the bestseller by Irvine Welsh and thrown down against the heroin hinterlands of Edinburgh. Directed with abandon by Danny Boyle, Trainspotting conspires to be at once a hip youth flick and a grim cautionary fable. Released on an unsuspecting public in 1996, the picture struck a chord with audiences worldwide and became adopted as an instant symbol of a booming British rave culture (an irony, given the characters' main drug of choice is heroin not ecstasy). McGregor, Lee Miller and Ewen Bremner play a slouching trio of Scottish junkies; Carlyle their narcotic-eschewing but hard-drinking and generally psychotic mate Begbie. In Boyle's hands, their lives unfold in a rush of euphoric highs, blow-out overdoses and agonising withdrawals (all cued to a vogueish pop soundtrack). Throughout it all, John Hodge's screenplay strikes a delicate balance between acknowledging the inherent pleasures of drug use and spotlighting its eventual consequences. In Trainspotting's world view, it all comes down to a question of choices-between the dangerous Day-Glo highs of the addict and the grey, grinding consumerism of the everyday Joe. "Choose life", quips the film's narrator (McGregor) in a monologue that was to become a mantra. "Choose a job, choose a starter home. [+]

John Schlesinger's solid adaptation of Thomas Hardy's novel sees three rival suitors vying for the affections of the beautiful Bathsheba Everdene (Julie Christie decked out in a variety of bonnets and frilly dresses), who has just inherited a farm. The men in her life are stout, whiskered yeoman Gabriel Oak (Alan Bates), an impoverished local farmer; neurotic, repressed squire William Boldwood (Peter Finch); and handsome rascal Sgt Troy (Terrence Stamp), who dresses as if he's Flashman and breaks women's hearts for a hobby. Thanks to cameraman Nic Roeg and production designer Richard MacDonald (who also worked for Joseph Losey), 19th-century Dorset looks as pretty and as picturesque as a John Constable reproduction on top of a biscuit tin. Not that Schlesinger or screenwriter Frederic Raphael underplay the duress of rural life. We see the hardship of the farm workers' lives as the seasons turn. The film opens with a spectacular sequence in which Gabriel Oak's dog drives his flock of sheep over a cliff, thereby forcing him into penury. Whether hunger or heartbreak, every character here suffers. Bathsheba (like the model Christie plays in Darling) is a free-spirit in a society in which women's rights are severely restricted. -Geoffrey Macnab.

The come-from-behind winner of the 1981 Oscar for Best Picture, Chariots of Fire either strikes you as either a cold exercise in mechanical manipulation or as a tale of true determination and inspiration. The heroes are an unlikely pair of young athletes who ran for Great Britain in the 1924 Paris Olympics: devout Protestant Eric Liddell (Ian Charleson), a divinity student whose running makes him feel closer to God, and Jewish Harold Abrahams (Ben Cross), a highly competitive Cambridge student who has to surmount the institutional hurdles of class prejudice and anti-Semitism. There's delicious support from Ian Holm (as Abrahams's coach) and John Gielgud and Lindsay Anderson as a couple of Cambridge fogies. Vangelis's soaring synthesised score, which seemed to be everywhere in the early 1980s, also won an Oscar. Chariots of Fire was the debut film of British television commercial director Hugh Hudson (Greystoke) and was produced by David Puttnam. -Jim Emerson.

Steven Spielberg had a banner year in 1993. He scored one of his biggest commercial hits that summer with the mega-hit Jurassic Park, but it was the artistic and critical triumph of Schindler's List that Spielberg called "the most satisfying experience of my career". Adapted from the best-selling book by Thomas Keneally and filmed in Poland with an emphasis on absolute authenticity, Spielberg's masterpiece ranks among the greatest films ever made about the Holocaust during World War II. It's a film about heroism with an unlikely hero at its center-Catholic war profiteer Oskar Schindler (Liam Neeson), who risked his life and went bankrupt to save more than 1,000 Jews from certain death in concentration camps. By employing Jews in his crockery factory manufacturing goods for the German army, Schindler ensures their survival against terrifying odds. At the same time, he must remain solvent with the help of a Jewish accountant (Ben Kingsley) and negotiate business with a vicious, obstinate Nazi commandant (Ralph Fiennes) who enjoys shooting Jews as target practice from the balcony of his villa overlooking a prison camp. Schindler's List gains much of its power not by trying to explain Schindler's motivations, but by dramatising the delicate diplomacy and determination with which he carried out his generous deeds. As a drinker and womanizer who thought nothing of associating with Nazis, Schindler was hardly a model of decency; the film is largely about his transformation in response to the horror around him. Spielberg doesn't flinch from that horror, and the result is a film that combines remarkable humanity with abhorrent inhumanity-a film that functions as a powerful history lesson and a testament to the resilience of the human spirit in the context of a living nightmare. -Jeff Shannon Both an artistic and a commercial triumph, Steven Spielberg's Schindler's List manages to find some small glimmer of hope for the human spirit amid the abomination that was the Holocaust. [+]

This lovely, 1991 adaptation of Elizabeth Von Arnim's novel has a superb cast and a tone so mellow you can feel your pulse get slower. Josie Lawrence and Miranda Richardson play a pair of unhappily married women who rent an Italian villa for a month, sharing the cost with a crusty Englishwoman (Joan Plowright) and a lonely aristocrat (Polly Walker). Sun, rest, sinking into the green grass for long naps-they all have a soulful effect on the quartet, and then on the men in their lives who make a surprise visit. Mike Newell (Four Weddings and a Funeral) directs with seeming effortlessness, and it is impossible not to be swayed by the promise of restoration for these burdened characters-or for anyone alive. Wonderful performances all around, including a particularly sensitive one by Alfred Molina and a very funny one by Jim Broadbent. -Tom Keogh, Amazon. com.

When a Man Loves a Woman is a dumb title (not another classic pop song, please) for a very smart movie. A kind of gender-switch take on The Lost Weekend, it's about a woman (Meg Ryan) whose alcoholism almost destroys her family. That may sound like just another TV movie, but When a Man Loves a Woman is so authentic in detail and emotion, that everything about it seems fresh, urgent, and engrossing. That's because the film is grounded in the actual experience of co-writer Al Franken (assisted by Rain Man scripter Ronald Bass). Franken is best known for his affiliation with Saturday Night Live and Politically Incorrect, and as the author of Rush Limbaugh Is a Big Fat Idiot, and Other Observations. You may recall that Franken is the creator of Stuart Smalley, 12-step programmer extraordinaire. Well, if you want to know how Stuart was born, you can start here. This is no comedy, however. In fact, one of the most painful realisations comes when attractive, "good-time girl" Alice Green (Ryan) and her husband (Andy Garcia) begin to realise how much of a role alcohol played in their marriage and in bringing them together in the first place. The issues and experiences confronted in this movie go far beyond the stuff you see on daytime TV. [+]

This BBC adaptation of George Eliot's Middlemarch is so remarkable that after viewing it disaffected English Literature students may find themselves revisiting the once-dreaded novel with pleasurable anticipation. Over the course of six hours, we are immersed in the lives of Dorothea Brooke, Mr Ladislaw, Dr Lydgate and, by the end, you'll be wanting even more. Set in the fictional town of Middlemarch in the early 19th century, the stories of the townsfolk are woven seamlessly together, with strands of political fervour and social commentary subtly incorporated. Dorothea (Juliet Aubrey) wants desperately to make something of her life; however, as a woman she is forbidden the study of Greek and Latin and no one takes her notions of societal improvement seriously. She chooses to marry the elderly Rev. Casaubon (Patrick Malahide), a scholarly man whom she can aid in his work. Meanwhile, new to Middlemarch is the handsome Dr Lydgate (Douglas Hodge), who has grand notions for running a free hospital and finding a cure for cholera. His plans are sidetracked, however, when the beautiful but materialistic Rosie Vincy (Trevyn McDowell) sets her sights on him. Other sub-plots run throughout, including Rev. Casaubon's dashing but disapproved-of cousin Will Ladislaw (Rufus Sewell), who has his eye on Dorothea; the scandals of banker Mr Bulstrode (Peter Jeffrey); and the prodigal son Fred Vincy (Jonathan Firth), who urgently wants the hand of Mary but can't find the money or an honest career to provide for her. [+]