In the vastly overrated 1998 book Easy Riders, Raging Bulls, author Peter Biskind puts the blame for Hollywood's blockbuster mentality at least partially on Steven Spielberg's box-office success with this adaptation of Peter Benchley's bestselling novel. But you can't blame Spielberg for making a terrific film, which Jaws definitely is. The story of a Long Island town whose summer tourist business is suddenly threatened by great white shark attacks on humans bypasses the potboiler trappings of Benchley's book and goes straight for the jugular with beautifully crafted, crowd-pleasing sequences of action and suspense. This is supported by a trio of terrific performances by Roy Scheider (as the local sheriff), Richard Dreyfuss (as a shark specialist), and particularly Robert Shaw (as the old fisherman who offers to hunt the shark down). The sequences on Shaw's boat-as the three of them realise that in fact the shark is hunting them-are what entertaining moviemaking is all about. -Marshall Fine -This text refers to another version of this video. Jaws revolutionised Hollywood, single-handedly invented the summer blockbuster, spawned three increasingly poor sequels, and became the first film to gross more than 100 million dollars. Unlike many recent blockbusters, however, in Jaws the audience really cares about the fate of the men engaged in their duel with the monster. Granted the shark looks fake, but we willingly suspend our disbelief as storytelling and character development count for far more than mere special effects, adding enormously to the movie's suspense, excitement and sheer terror. The cast and screenplay are exemplary, but it was Steven Spielberg who emerged as the film's true star, while John Williams' unforgettable Oscar-winning score made him almost as much of as household name as the young director. [+]

The opening episode of Buffy's Fifth Season, "Buffy vs Dracula", is not just a crowd-pleasing inter-textual slugfest but also a signal that we will be spending time with illusion and the truth it sometimes conceals, sometimes presents. And suddenly Buffy has a younger sister, has always had a younger sister. Michelle Trachtenberg as the moody, gawky Dawn achieves the considerable triumph of walking into an established stock company of well-known characters-Xander, Willow, Giles and so on-with the perfect assurance of a long-term member of the cast. Of course, nothing is as it seems; even Glory, the mad brain-sucking beauty in a red dress who is the villain of the year, turns out to be even more than she seems. Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy manages to convey heartbreak, self-involvement and real heroism as her relationship with her emotionally dense soldier boyfriend Riley hits the shoals and the blonde much-cheekboned vampire Spike starts to show an altogether inappropriate interest. In sidebars from the main plot-Dawn and her nemesis Glory-we see Xander cope with a cool sinister double, learn the true identity of Willow's lover Tara and uncover Spike's embarrassing pre-vampire past. Any doubts about this brilliant show's capacity to sustain itself are dissipated by this firecracker of a season. -Roz Kaveney.

If Season One hooked viewers by promising unpredictable story lines and a willingness to experiment outside the boundaries of genre formatting, nothing prepared us for the latter half of Season Two. Softening the blow-much like the way Box Set 1 ends-is the start here with the kooky Thing-like invasion of "Bad Eggs". Then with the extraordinary double act of "Surprise" and "Innocence", every aspect of the show grows up in a big hurry: the result of Buffy sleeping with Angel is a series of tragedies everyone is powerless to predict or prevent. These two episodes deservedly won an Emmy for make-up, but that says nothing of the powerful story-telling conveyed by pared-down dialogue and remarkable performances from the young cast. As Angel's character is inverted and explored, it's an acting slugfest between David Boreanaz and Sarah Michelle Gellar through to their bitter end (she later won a Saturn Award in recognition). As the pair dance between seeking out and avoiding one another, each of the secondary characters undergoes a talent-stretching transformation. For Giles it's the end to his relationship with Jenny ("Passion"), an event poisoning the motivations of everyone it affects. Willow distances herself considerably from the timid teddy bear image, taking on teaching responsibilities, witchcraft, and her lycanthropic boyfriend Oz (coincidentally, Alyson Hannigan and Seth Green were also together in My Stepmother Is An Alien). All of these threads are tied together then torn apart by the two-part finale "Becoming". So much happens in these two hours of television, but thankfully nothing seems rushed. [+]

Dark, tortuous, labyrinthine, a tour de force of audience misdirection, The Usual Suspects is one of the key thrillers-no make that key films-of the 90s. A foreign cargo ship explodes in a California harbour. Six weeks earlier, five ill-assorted criminals find themselves side-by-side on a police line-up. Linking the two events (or so it seems) is master criminal Keyser Soze. Legendary and unseen, his very name enough to strike terror. As police and the customs officals investigate the explosion, a complex series of flashbacks spirals out from the airless room where Customs-agent Dave Kujan (Chazz Palminteri) interrogates the gang's sole survivor, the aptly named Verbal Kint (Kevin Spacey in a career-defining performance). The writing is close-textured and sinewy-an ingenious heist scam enough in itself to fuel most regular thrillers, is thrown away in the first 15 minutes-and a matchless ensemble cast give it all they've got. The film plays intricate games with perception and belief: the more we're shown and told, the less we can rely on. Who is Keyzer Soze? Does he exist at all? Even after we've seen the final twist, questions still remain. This is a film to see, enjoy and argue over time and again. [+]

The most viscerally frightening and disturbing homicidal maniac picture since The Silence of the Lambs, Seven is based on an idea that's both gruesome and ingenious. A serial killer forces each of his victims to die by acting out one of the seven deadly sins. The murder scene is then artfully arranged into a grotesque tableau, a graphic illustration of each mortal vice. From the jittery opening credits to the horrifying (and seemingly inescapable) concluding twist, director David Fincher immerses us in a murky urban twilight where everything seems to be rotting, rusting, or moulding; the air is cold and heavy with dread. Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt are the detectives who skillfully track down the killer-all the while unaware that he has been closing in on them, as well. Gwyneth Paltrow and Kevin Spacey are also featured, but it is director Fincher and the ominous, overwhelmingly oppressive atmosphere of doom that he creates that are the real stars of the film. It's a terrific date movie-for vampires. -Jim Emerson.

Taxi Driver is the definitive cinematic portrait of loneliness and alienation manifested as violence. It is as if director Martin Scorsese and screenwriter Paul Schrader had tapped into precisely the same source of psychological inspiration ("I just knew I had to make this film", Scorsese would later say), combined with a perfectly timed post-Watergate expression of personal, political and societal anxiety. Robert De Niro, as the tortured, ex-Marine cab driver Travis Bickle, made movie history with his chilling performance as one of the most memorably intense and vividly realised characters ever committed to film. Bickle is a self-appointed vigilante who views his urban beat as an intolerable cesspool of blighted humanity. He plays guardian angel for a young prostitute (Jodie Foster), but not without violently devastating consequences. This masterpiece, which is not for all tastes, is sure to horrify some viewers, but few could deny the film's lasting power and importance. -Jeff Shannon.

Dry as ice, dripping with deadpan witticisms, only Sean Connery's Bond would dare to disparage the Beatles, that other 1964 phenomenon. No one but Connery can believably seduce women so effortlessly, kill with almost as much ease, and then pull another bottle of Dom Perignon 53 out of the fridge. Goldfinger contains many of the most memorable scenes in the Bond series: gorgeous Shirley Eaton (as Jill Masterson) coated in gold paint by evil Auric Goldfinger and deposited in Bond's bed; silent Oddjob, flipping a razor-sharp bowler like a Frisbee to sever heads; our hero spread-eagled on a table while a laser beam moves threateningly toward his crotch. Honor Blackman's Pussy Galore is the prototype for the series' rash of man-hating supermodels. And Desmond Llewelyn reprises his role as Q, giving Bond what is still his most impressive car, a snazzy little number that fires off smoke screens, punctures the tyres of vehicles on the chase, and boasts a handy ejector seat. Goldfinger's two climaxes, inside Fort Knox and aboard a private plane, have to be seen to be believed. -Raphael Shargel, Amazon. com- On the DVD: Featuring interviews with Honor Blackman, Shirley Eaton, the late Desmond Llewelyn and most of the surviving core cast and crew members, great on-set footage (Blackman and Connery look like they clearly had the hots for each other even when the camera weren't rolling) and a strong argument about how this firmed up the gadget-orientated, thrills-and-spills formula for the franchise, John Cork's "making of" featurette for this DVD is one of the most rewarding in this series. The two commentary tracks have moderately interesting observations by director Guy Hamilton, the cast and crew (many of their comments recycled from the documentary), and on both Bond superfan-and-author Lee Pfeiffer filling in blanks and explaining in exhaustive detail the history of the Aston Martin DB5 that first appeared in this film. Also included is an open-ended 1964 interview with Sean Connery, designed so that American radio disc jockeys could pretend they had an exclusive interview with the star, in which he extols the series' "sadism for the family" among other things. [+]

With its high-intensity plot about an attempt to assassinate French President Charles de Gaulle, the bestselling novel by Frederick Forsyth was a prime candidate for screen adaptation. Director Fred Zinnemann brought his veteran skills to bear on what has become a timeless classic of screen suspense. Not to be confused with the later remake The Jackal starring Bruce Willis (which shamelessly embraced all the bombast that Zinnemann so wisely avoided), this 1973 thriller opts for lethal elegance and low-key tenacity in the form of the Jackal, the suave assassin played with consummate British coolness by Edward Fox. He's a killer of the highest order, a master of disguise and international elusiveness, and this riveting film follows his path to de Gaulle with an intense, straightforward documentary style. Perhaps one of the last great films from a bygone age of pure, down-to-basics suspense (and a kind of debonair European alternative to the American grittiness of The French Connection), The Day of the Jackal is a cat-and-mouse thriller that keeps you on the edge of your seat until its brilliantly executed final scene (pardon the pun), by which time Fox has achieved cinematic immortality as one of the screen's most memorable killers. -Jeff Shannon.

Jean-Jacques Annaud's The Name of the Rose is a flawed attempt to adapt Umberto Eco's highly convoluted medieval bestseller for the screen, necessarily excising much of the esoterica that made the book so compelling. Still, what's left is a riveting whodunit set in a grimly and grimily realistic 14th-century Benedictine monastery populated by a parade of grotesque characters, all of whom spend their time lurking in dark places or scuttling, half-unseen, in the omnipresent gloom. A series of mysterious and gruesome deaths are somehow tied up with the unwelcome attention of the Inquisition, sent to root out suspected heretical behavior among the monastic scribes whose lives are dedicated to transcribing ancient manuscripts for their famous library, access to which is prevented by an ingenious maze-like layout. Enter Sean Connery as investigator-monk William of Baskerville (the Sherlock Holmes connection made explicit in his name) and his naive young assistant Adso (a youthful Christian Slater). The Grand Inquisitor Bernado Gui (F. Murray Abraham) suspects devilry; but William and Adso, using Holmesian forensic techniques, uncover a much more human cause: the secrets of the library are being protected at a terrible cost. A fine international cast and the splendidly evocative location compensate for a screenplay that struggles to present Eco's multifaceted story even partially intact; Annaud's idiosyncratic direction complements the sinister, unsettling aura of the tale ideally. -Mark Walker.

All films require a certain suspension of disbelief, Fight Club perhaps more than others; but if you're willing to let yourself get caught up in the anarchy, this film, based on the novel by Chuck Palahniuk, is a modern-day morality play warning of the decay of society. Edward Norton is the unnamed protagonist, a man going through life on cruise control, feeling nothing. To fill his hours, he begins attending support groups and 12-step meetings. True, he isn't actually afflicted with the problems, but he finds solace in the groups. This is destroyed, however, when he meets Marla (Helena Bonham Carter), also faking her way through groups. Spiralling back into insomnia, Norton finds his life is changed once again, by a chance encounter with Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt), whose forthright style and no-nonsense way of taking what he wants appeal to our narrator. Tyler and the protagonist find a new way to feel release: they fight. They fight each other, and then as others are attracted to their ways, they fight the men who come to join their newly formed Fight Club. Marla begins a destructive affair with Tyler, and things fly out of control, as Fight Club is transformed into a nationwide fascist group. The depiction of violence in Fight Club is unflinching, but director David Fincher's film is captivating and beautifully shot, with camerawork and effects that are almost as startling as the script. [+]

Hailed as the most infamous film of all times, 'Pink Flamingos' was originally billed as 'An excercise in bad taste'. Divine is Babs Johnson, the queen of Sleaze, who with her troubled family of outcasts earns the title of 'The Filthiest People Alive'. But the title is challenged by Connie and Raymond Marble, a jealous, publicity-hungry couple with pre-punk red and blue hair who will do anything to steal Babs' notoriety. The film sets out to shock. It is nauseating. It is absurd. Not for the faint of heart, this film will not be forgotten.

Should you ever meet Brian Dennehy, there's no need to be afraid. Beneath that creepy, intimidating manner, those squinting, inquisitive eyes, there's no bogeyman lurking in wait: just an underrated middle-aged character actor who keeps getting typecast as rotten apples and bad pennies. Bad pennies, in fact, like John Wayne Gacy, the notorious serial killer, whose public face as a pillar of the civic community-he even used to dress up as a clown for local children' parties-disguised, at least temporarily, his sadistic homicidal tendencies. (Incidentally, he was also the inspiration for the Anthony Perkins character in Psycho and the transvestite serial killer in Silence of the Lambs. ) Rather than attempting any kind of profound analysis of its subject, the made-for-TV film To Catch a Killer-as you might expect, given its title-instead concentrates on the attempt to ensnare him at last, led by pedestrian but stoical police-chief Joe Kozenczak (Michael Riley)-whose desperation to halt Gacy in his tracks eventually leads to calling in a psychic (Margot Kidder, a long way from her supposed big break in Superman). While director Eric Till never achieves much more than a simple, if unsettlingly atmospheric, recreation of events, he exhibits a sharp eye for detail, and an intelligence rare among movies made for the small-screen. But, of course, this is really Brian Dennehy's film: it's his presence which lends the project its authority, and his (frequently overlooked) acting prowess which gives it a foundation. -Danny Leigh.

Roger Moore was introduced as James Bond in this 1973 action movie featuring secret agent 007. More self-consciously suave and formal than predecessor Sean Connery, he immediately re-established Bond as an uncomplicated and wooden fellow for the feel-good 70s. Live and let Die also marks a deviation from the more character-driven stories of the Connery years, a deliberate shift to plastic action (multiple chases, bravura stunts) that made the franchise more of a comic book or machine. If that's not depressing enough, there's even a good British director on board, Guy Hamilton (Force 10 from Navarone). The story finds Bond taking on an international drug dealer (Yaphet Kotto), and while that may be superficially relevant, it isn't exactly the same as fighting supervillains on the order of Goldfinger. -Tom Keogh.