Annette Bening twists like a mink on a leash through Stephen Frears' The Grifters, an adaptation of Jim Thompson's novel. This may be the perfect trope for the moral hysteria that coils around a mother, her son and his girlfriend in this slender but highly pleasurable neo-noir. Small in effect and local in scope, the film is about small-fry, attractive, bloodless con-artists who view the world as neatly split between ropers and suckers, grifters and squares. "Grifter's got an irresistible urge to beat a guy that's wise", an old-timer tells Roy (John Cusack). And yet the three characters here-played by Angelica Huston, John Cusack and Bening-only beat the innocent: Lilly (Huston) gigs at the track for a mobster named Bobo, putting wads of cash on long-shot horses to even out the odds. Roy, her son, swindles citizens by dimes and degrees, flashing twenties at bars then paying for his beer with tens. His girlfriend, Myra (Bening), is hustling herself, her salad days as a long-con roper behind her. Theirs is a world of gut punches and smart lines, and the adrenaline these cheats and chisellers live by is palpable onscreen. But a larger canvas? Maybe it's there as a parallel universe. "What do you sell again?" Myra asks Roy, the matchbook salesman. [+]

Featuring an outstanding cast of rapidly rising talent, Sorted is a hallucinogenic cocktail of thriller and insider's eye view of the London club scene. Debut director Alexander Jovy has promoted raves and is a qualified lawyer, so it's unsurprising his club scenes, filmed on real nights at the Ministry of Sound and other clubs, are completely authentic. The story has young lawyer Carl, Matthew Rhys, coming from Yorkshire to investigate the death of his high-flying (in every sense) brother. Jovy portrays the gulf between Carl's world in his relationship with classy, conventional Sunny (Sienna-Take a Girl Like You-Guillory), and the hedonistic fantasyland of the club scene represented by fallen Pre-Raphaelite angel Tiffany (Fay-Eyes Wide Shut-Masterson). Straddling the two worlds is a remarkable Jason Donovan as Martin, customs officer by day, glam transvestite by night. Unfortunately atmospheric drama soon gives way to lightweight thriller conventions while Tim Curry's camp villain (surely a parody of DeNiro's Louis Cypher from Angel Heart), creates expectations of a much darker conclusion. Sorted is ultimately old-fashioned, romantic and soft-centred where it needs far more edge, but is nevertheless so luxuriantly stylish it may mark Jovy as his generation's answer to Ridley Scott. A word of warning: several scenes feature very powerful stroboscopic lighting effects. -Gary S. Dalkin On the DVD: The expansive, beautiful colour-saturated cinematography is well captured by the 2. [+]

Ever felt the chill wind of déjà vu? You will with Stag, as its entire premise follows that of director Peter Berg's none-more-black comedy Very Bad Things to the letter-except that Stag actually came first. While Very Bad Things starred Cameron Diaz and Christian Slater and therefore got a cinema release, Stag stars (oh dear) Mario Van Peebles, ex-Brat Pack star Andrew McCarthy and Taylor Dayne, and therefore didn't grace the silver screen. Van Peebles plays Michael, the loyal best friend and housemate of Victor (John Stockwell) who is poised to leave the buddy fold for marriage and domesticity. So, being a pal, Michael organises a surprise stag party for Victor, and invites along a host of their old crowd-including, regrettably, drug dealer and racketeer Pete (McCarthy), and the obligatory pair of strippers, Serena and Kelly (Dayne and Jenny McShane). Of course, things swiftly turn rowdy, Kelly falls to her wholly accidental death, and the boys have to cover up the death fast. Having established this nightmarish scenario, Stag veers away from the Gap-ad Grand Guignol of Very Bad Things and instead attempts to juggle suspense, melodrama, and a fairly ponderous examination of modern-male morality. The results aren't particularly edifying, but they do display a certain conviction, even if it's never satisfactorily explained why Van Peebles spends the entire film without eyebrows. Them's the breaks. -Danny Leigh.

With good production values and a load of suspense, the direct-to-video thriller Atomic Train delivers the goods-ahead of schedule. A rich bureaucrat with a Porsche, a goatee and a defective sense of morality places a defective Russian nuclear warhead aboard a defective American train for cheap disposal but the engine loses its brakes and hurls out of control toward Denver. Will it explode? Will it wipe out half the city? Will the thoughts and prayers of the President-played by Edward Herrmann, in his best Chrysler-salesman mode-do any good? Will Rob Lowe, the major hero of this epic, ever be able to save his career? Atomic Train hauls along every disaster-flick formula you can think of: an estranged couple bonding again during a time of crisis; urban rioting and mayhem; government officials wearing headsets and breathlessly watching video monitors; trigger-happy military men; high-speed stunts; escapes by helicopter; clean-up crews in white spacesuits; many scenes of families being reunited after sub-plot cliffhangers, to major-key crescendos on the soundtrack. The only stereotypical element missing is a dog saved from a fire at the last minute. But, you have to admit, what Atomic Train does it does with pizzazz, a post-Armageddon tone of overly heroic but ultimately disposable machismo and explosions. lots of explosions. -Robert Burns Neveldine, Amazon. com.

With more than a decade of cinema in Basic Instinct's wake it's fascinating to look back at just how influential Paul Verhoeven's "erotic thriller" has been. The director's endless fight with censorship and unwillingness to kowtow to social mores meant his movies became notorious for graphically depicting sex and violence while pushing contemporary boundaries of taste. This whodunit about a bisexual femme fatale (Sharon Stone in a career-best performance) caused an enormous furore on its release; but after years of generally inferior imitations there's not much in it that seems quite so shocking now. It's perhaps best appreciated in retrospect more for its Hitchcockian style than the steamy sex. On the DVD: one of the most welcome elements of the disc is an acknowledgement of the film's own influences-from Hitchcock's Vertigo to Verhoeven's own The Fourth Man. The print is far superior to the previous release, looking magnificent in 1:78. 1. Jerry Goldsmith's Oscar-nominated score sounds terrific in either 5. 1 or DTS, as does Verhoeven's thick accent on the first commentary track alongside then Director of Photography Jan De Bont (Speed), who together reminisce on locations and manipulating their actors' performances. A second commentary from feminist critic Camille Paglia is a brave way of putting paid to the gay/feminist community uproar. [+]