As with earlier releases, The X-Files: Providence splices together two episodes, "Provenance" and "Providence", into a pseudo-movie. Again, the results fall way below the series average as the long-dead alien conspiracy business is flogged, with a lot of running around and ominous rumbling still not adding up to anything like an actual story. FBI agent Neal McDonaugh (of Minority Report) inexplicably survives a flaming motorcycle crash, leaving behind brass rubbings taken from an alien spaceship, then shows up and tries to murder Scully's psychokinetic baby, who is promptly kidnapped by a UFO cult. In Part 2, Scully (Gillian Anderson) and Reyes (Annabeth Gish) fend off enemies and friends within the bureau as they track down the cultists, who are having trouble with a spaceship they've dug up, and a typical pointless climax has things happen without the characters doing anything to contribute. Even at this late, post-Duchovny stage in the game, The X-Files has turned out some fine stand-alone episodes, but these dreary wallowings go a long way towards explaining why only diehards are still watching. After the child says "I made this" at the end of the credits, it's becoming very hard not to shout "well, clean it up then". On the DVD: The X-Files: Providence, as with Nothing Important Happened Today, arrives in a great-looking anamorphic widescreen transfer. There are two slight promotional "featurettes"-three-minute clips/talking heads promos focusing on the episode "Providence" and actor Cary Elwes' character. -Kim Newman.

Calling this 1996 science fiction thriller "a glorified B movie," isn't a criticism. Writer-director David Twohy managed to get interesting material on the screen despite a limited budget, and the film is just believable enough to be satisfying as a tale of paranoid conspiracy. If you can ignore the hokey parts and accept Charlie Sheen as noted radio astronomer Zane Ziminski, you'll get thoroughly involved when the reception of an alien radio signal leads him to Mexico and to a huge underground power plant operated by aliens bent on the eventual takeover of Earth. Ron Silver is suitably chilling as the astronomer's boss, whose real identity is more horrifying than Ziminski ever imagined. The underground alien lair is memorably creepy, and The Arrival is just smart enough to qualify as more than a guilty pleasure. -Jeff Shannon.

A half-hour parody, Frankenthumb is one of a series of featurette pastiches of famous movies masterminded by Steve Oederkerk (Kung Pow: Enter the Fist) cast with human thumbs with CGI-inset mouths and eyes, a process that is weirder than it is funny. A précis of the 1931 Frankenstein, shot on impressive (and beautifully-lit) miniature sets, the film tells the old, old story: megalomaniac Dr Frankenthumb and his inept assistant Humpy create life in the laboratory, unleashing a monster named Pepper ("because he's brought spice into our lives") who goes on a rampage, menaces the daughter of a somewhat irritating Italian man, and is pursued by a mob into a burning windmill, whereupon a guest star from an earlier mini-epic (Bat Thumb) turns up to deliver some sort of an ending. One or two good jokes pop up, but probably not enough. On the DVD: Frankenthumb on disc is a very nice package, containing storyboards, manufactured outtakes and cast interviews, trailers for this and the rest of the series (Thumb Wars, The Blair Thumb, Thumbtanic, Bat Thumb, The Godthumb) and a mass commentary track by the entire creative team that makes a cheerful accompaniment. -Kim Newman.

Lon Chaney, the man of a thousand faces, was best known for playing Quasimodo and the Phantom of the Opera. But the former role in The Hunchback of Notre Dame was clearly the most ambitious of his illustrious career, full of such longing and anguish. It's as though his entire being was consumed by this ugly outcast with a heart as big and beautiful as Notre Dame itself. And the makeup is still astonishing. The rest of this unrequited love story is pretty effective as well, with the re-creation of medieval Paris a standout for its lavishness. Like all great silent films, it delivers a poetry of life that is abstract and tangible at the same time. -Bill Desowitz.

It's hard not to feel there's something wrong when Army of Darkness, the third entry in Sam Raimi's lively Evil Dead series, opens with a 15 certificate. And indeed, this is not quite the non-stop rollercoaster of splat we're entitled to expect. Like Evil Dead II, it opens with a digest-cum-remake of the original movie, taking geeky Ash (Bruce Campbell) back out to that cabin in the woods where he is beset by demons who do away with his girlfriend (blink and you'll miss Bridget Fonda). Blasted back in time to 12th century England, Ash finds himself still battling the Deadites and his own ineptitude in a quest to save the day and get back home. Though it starts zippily, with Campbell's grimly funny clod of a hero commanding the screen, a sort of monotony sets in as magical events pile up. Ash is attacked by Lilliputian versions of himself, one of whom incubates in his stomach and grows out of his shoulder to be his evil twin. After being dismembered and buried, Evil Ash rises from the dead to command a zombie army and at least half the film is a big battle scene in which rotted warriors (nine mouldy extras in masks for every one Harryhausen-style impressive animated skeleton) besiege a cardboard castle. There are lots of action jokes, MAD Magazine-like marginal doodles and a few funny lines, but it lacks the authentic scares of The Evil Dead and the authentic sick comedy of Evil Dead II. On the DVD: Army of Darkness may be the least of the trilogy, but Anchor Bay's super two-disc set is worthy of shelving beside their outstanding editions of the earlier films. Disc 1 contains the 81-minute US theatrical version in widescreen or fullscreen, plus the original "Planet of the Apes" ending, the trailer and a making-of featurette. [+]