The extended edition of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ringwas perhaps the most comprehensive DVD release to date, and its follow-up, The Two Towers, proves a similarly colossal achievement, with significant extra footage and a multitude of worthwhile bonus features. The extended version of The Two Towersadds 43 minutes to the theatrical version's 179-minute running time, and there are significant, valuable additions to the film. Two new scenes might appease those who feel that the characterization of Faramir was the film's most egregious departure from the book, and fans will appreciate an appearance of the Huorns at Helm's Deep plus a nod to the absence of Tom Bombadil. Seeing a little more interplay between the gorgeous Eowyn and Aragorn is welcome, as is a grim introduction to Eomer and Theoden's son. And among the many other additions, there's an extended epilogue that might not have worked in the theater, but is more effective here in setting up The Return of the King. While the 30 minutes added to The Fellowship of the Ringfelt just right in enriching the film, the extra footage in The Two Towersat times seems a bit extraneous—we seemoments that in the theatrical version we had been told about, and some fleshed-out conversations and incidents are rather minor. But director Peter Jackson's vision of J.R.R. Tolkien's world is so marvelous that it's hard to complain about any extra time we can spend there.

While it may seem that there would be nothing left to say after the bevy of features on the extended Fellowship, the four commentary tracks and two discs of supplements on The Two Towersremain informative, fascinating, and funny, far surpassing the recycled materials on the two-disc theatrical version. Highlights of the 6.5 hours' worth of documentaries offer insight on the stunts, the design work, the locations, and the creation of Gollum, and—most intriguing for rabid fans—the film's writers (including Jackson) discuss why they created events that weren't in the book. Providing variety are animatics, rough footage, countless sketches, and a sound-mixing demonstration. Again, the most interesting commentary tracks are by Jackson and writers Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens and by 16 members of the cast (eight of whom didn't appear in the first film, and even including John Noble, whose Denethor character only appears in this extended cut). The first two installments of Peter Jackson's trilogy have established themselves as the best fantasy films of all time, and among the best film trilogies of all time, and their extended-edition DVD sets have set a new standard for expanding on the already-epic films and providing comprehensive bonus features. —David Horiuchi

Director John Carpenter and special makeup effects master Rob Bottin teamed up for this 1982 remake of the 1951 science fiction classic The Thing from Another World, and the result is a mixed blessing. It's got moments of highly effective terror and spine-tingling suspense, but it's mostly a showcase for some of the goriest and most horrifically grotesque makeup effects ever created for a movie. With such highlights as a dog that splits open and blossoms into something indescribably gruesome, this is the kind of movie for die-hard horror fans and anyone who slows down to stare at fatal traffic accidents. On those terms, however, it's hard not to be impressed by the movie's wild and wacky freak show. It all begins when scientists at an arctic research station discover an alien spacecraft under the thick ice, and thaw out the alien body found aboard. What they don't know is that the alien can assume any human form, and before long the scientists can't tell who's real and who's a deadly alien threat. Kurt Russell leads the battle against the terrifying intruder, and the supporting cast includes Richard Masur, Richard Dysart, Donald Moffat, and Wilford Brimley. They're all playing standard characters who are neglected by the mechanistic screenplay (based on the classic sci-fi story "Who Goes There?" by John W. Campbell), but Carpenter's emphasis is clearly on the gross-out effects and escalating tension. If you've got the stomach for it (and let's face it, there's a big audience for eerie gore), this is a thrill ride you won't want to miss. —Jeff Shannon

This second DVD edition of Stanley Kubrick's film is anchored by two new documentaries. The 15-minute look at the early Kubrick is rushed and covers no new ground for fans. The 45-minute "Inside the Making of Dr. Strangelove" is more insightful despite having only a few players still alive in 2000 to talk about the production (including Kubrick's partner James B. Harris and actor James Earl Jones). The featurette does a good job of chronicling how a thriller about the end of the world became a comedy. Some publicity material has been added, including posters, the trippy trailer, and some oddly comical "fake" interviews with the two leads. —Doug Thomas

While setting a milestone in the progress of digital filmmaking, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrowresurrects a nostalgic fantasy world derived from a wide variety of vintage inspirations. It's a dazzling dream for anyone who appreciates the look and feel of golden-age sci-fi pulp magazines, drawing its unique, all-digital design from such diverse sources as Howard Hawks adventures, Fritz Lang's Metropolis, Buck Rogers, Blackhawkcomics, The Third Man, cliffhanger serials, and the action-packed Indiana Jones franchise. Writer-director Kerry Conran's feature debut is also guaranteed to inspire digital dreamers everywhere, suggesting a paradigm shift in the way CGI-dominated movies are made. It's a giddy adventure for the young and young-at-heart, in which ace pilot "Sky Captain" Joe Sullivan (Jude Law) and intrepid reporter Polly Perkins (Gwyneth Paltrow) must save the world from a mad scientist whose vision of the future has tragic implications for all humankind. Angelina Jolie drops in for a glorified cameo, but it's the ultra-fortunate neophyte Conran who's the star here. His clever riff on The Wizard of Ozis a marvel to behold, and the method of its creation is nothing less than revolutionary. —Jeff Shannon

Who else but Tim Burton could make Corpse Bride, a necrophiliac's delight that's fun for the whole family? Returning to the richly imaginative realm of stop-motion animation (after previous successes with The Nightmare Before Christmas and James and the Giant Peach), Burton, with codirector Mike Johnson, invites us to visit the dour, ashen, and drearily Victorian mansions of the living, where young Victor Van Dort (voiced by Johnny Depp) is bequeathed to wed the lovely Victoria (Emily Watson). But the wedding rehearsal goes sour and, in the kind of Goth-eerie forest that only exists in Burton-land, Victor suddenly finds himself accidentally married to the Corpse Bride (Helena Bonham Carter), a blue-tinted, half-skeletal beauty (how pleasantly full-bosomed she remains!) with a loquacious maggot installed behind one prone-to-popping eyeball. This being a Burton creation, the underworld of the dead is a lively and colorful place indeed, and Danny Elfman's songs and score make it even livelier, presenting Victor with quite a dilemma: Should he return above-ground to Victoria, or remain devoted to his corpse bride? At a brisk 76 minutes, Burton's graveyard whimsy (loosely based on a 19th century Russian folktale) never wears out its welcome, and the voice casting (which includes Tracey Ullman and Albert Finney) is superbly matched the film's gloriously amusing character design, guaranteed to yield a wealth of gruesome toys and action figures for many Halloweens to come. —Jeff Shannon

Dans la veine d'Amélie Poulain, des films de Capra ou de Pagnol, La Grande Séduction, premier long métrage de Jean-François Pouliot sur un scénario de l'humoriste Ken Scott, est une comédie populaire fort sympathique. Sur un fond social assez fort, le film en a séduit plus d'un, même à l'étranger, surtout par ses interprètes attachants (David Boutin, Raymond Bouchard, Clémence DesRochers, Rita Lafontaine, Benoît Brière, notamment) et son ton humaniste et poétique. Chaleureux, il a été récompensé par un Génie, six prix Jutra et par le prix du public au festival de Sundance en 2003.

If you could choose only one Pink Panthermovie, your best bet would be A Shot in the Dark—ironic, since it's the only entry in the series that doesn't mention the Pink Panther or even feature the cartoon cat in its opening credits. The title and basic plot are taken from the play by Harry Kurnitz, which in turn was adapted from the French stage comedy L'Idiote, but those plays were completely reconceived by director Blake Edwards, who cowrote the screenplay with William Peter Blatty (yes, the writer of The Exorcist!) and turned the film into a showcase for Peter Sellers and a nonstop parade of slapstick gags and pratfalls. This time Inspector Clouseau is accidentally assigned to track a gorgeous, high-profile murder suspect (Elke Sommer), who is connected to several Parisian murders by circumstantial evidence. Believing her to be innocent when all clues indicate otherwise, Clouseau captures his suspect and releases her several times, to the dismay of Chief Inspector Dreyfus (Herbert Lom), but the plot here is arguably beside the point. As a bumbling variation of Hercule Poirot, Sellers steals the show, refining Clouseau's persona—including his outrageous karate duels with his tenacious valet, Cato (Bert Kwouk)—and nonchalantly waltzing through a plot involving numerous disguises and at least a dozen murders. Some scenes are so funny that you could swear the actors are about to crack up laughing, so you laugh even harder when supporting players such as Graham Stark (as Clouseau's tolerant assistant, Hercule) hold a perfectly deadpan expression. Of all the Pink Panthermovies, this is the one that fires on all pistons, with Edwards and Sellers in peak form, servicing a traditional farce that brought out the best in their inspired collaboration. —Jeff Shannon

Romance at its most anti-romantic—that is the Billy Wilder stamp of genius, and this Best Picture Academy Award winner from 1960 is no exception. Set in a decidedly unsavoury world of corporate climbing and philandering, the great filmmaker's trenchant, witty satire-melodrama takes the office politics of a corporation and plays them out in the apartment of lonely clerk CC Baxter (Jack Lemmon). By lending out his digs to the higher-ups for nightly extramarital flings with their secretaries, Baxter has managed to ascend the business ladder faster than even he imagined. The story turns even uglier, though, when Baxter's crush on the building's melancholy elevator operator (Shirley MacLaine) runs up against her long-standing affair with the big boss (a superbly smarmy Fred MacMurray). The situation comes to a head when she tries to commit suicide in Baxter's apartment. Not the happiest or cleanest of scenarios, and one that earned the famously caustic and cynically humoured Wilder his share of outraged responses, but looking at it now, it is a funny, startlingly clear-eyed vision of urban emptiness and is unfailingly understanding of the crazy decisions our hearts sometimes make. Lemmon and MacLaine are ideally matched and while everyone cites Wilder's Some Like It Hotclosing line "Nobody's perfect" as his best, MacLaine's no-nonsense final words——"Shut up and deal"—are every bit as memorable. Wilder won three Oscars for The Apartment, for Best Picture, Best Director and Best Screenplay (cowritten with long-time collaborator I A L Diamond). —Robert Abele

At first glance The Lady Vanishesappears to be a frothy, lightweight treat, a testament to Alfred Hitchcock's nimble touch. This snappy, sophisticated romantic thriller begins innocently enough, as a contingent of eccentric tourists spend the night in a picture-postcard village inn nestled in the Swiss Alps before setting off on the train the next morning. In a wonderfully Hitchcockian twist on "meeting cute," attractive young Iris (Margaret Lockwood) clashes with brash music student Gilbert (Michael Redgrave) when his nocturnal concerts give her no peace. She gets him kicked out of his room, so he barges in on hers: True love is inevitable, but not before they are both plunged into an international conspiracy. The next day on the train, kindly old Mrs. Froy (Dame May Whitty) vanishes from her train car without a trace and the once quarrelsome couple unite to search the train and uncover a dastardly plot. No one is as he or she seems, but sorting out the villains from the merely mysterious is a challenge in itself, as our innocents abroad face resistance from the entire passenger list. Hitchcock effortlessly navigates this vivid thriller from light comedy to high tension and back again, creating one of his most enchanting and entertaining mysteries. Though this wasn't his final British film before departing for Hollywood (that honor goes to Jamaica Inn), many critics prefer to think of this as his fond farewell to the British Film Industry. —Sean Axmaker

When it was released during Hollywood's golden year of 1939, The Wizard of Ozdidn't start out as the perennial classic it has since become. The film did respectable business, but it wasn't until its debut on television that this family favorite saw its popularity soar. And while Oz's TV broadcasts are now controlled by media mogul Ted Turner (who owns the rights), the advent of home video has made this lively musical a mainstay in the staple diet of great American films. Young Dorothy Gale (Judy Garland), her dog, Toto, and her three companions on the yellow brick road to Oz—the Tin Man (Jack Haley), the Cowardly Lion (Bert Lahr), and the Scarecrow (Ray Bolger)—have become pop-culture icons and central figures in the legacy of fantasy for children. As the Wicked Witch who covets Dorothy's enchanted ruby slippers, Margaret Hamilton has had the singular honor of scaring the wits out of children for more than six decades. The film's still as fresh, frightening, and funny as it was when first released. It may take some liberal detours from the original story by L. Frank Baum, but it's loyal to the Baum legacy while charting its own course as a spectacular film. Shot in glorious Technicolor, befitting its dynamic production design (Munchkinland alone is a psychedelic explosion of color and decor), The Wizard of Ozmay not appeal to every taste as the years go by, but it's required viewing for kids of all ages. —Jeff Shannon

DVD features
The Wizard of OzDVD released in 1999 was loaded with extra features, but it's now safe to throw away that version in all its cardboard-package glory in favor of this new two-disc edition. First things first: All the bonus material from the earlier disc is there (with one small exception). That includes the Angela Lansbury-hosted documentary The Making of a Movie Classic; the outtakes and deleted scenes, including Judy Garland's "Over the Rainbow" reprise and the home-movie recording of "The Jitterbug"; the sketches and stills and composer Harold Arlen's home movies; the audio underscores and radio programs; the 1979 interviews with Margaret Hamilton, Ray Bolger, and Jack Haley; and other items too numerous to mention. (Some text introductions to the features have been replaced by narration by Lansbury, for whatever reason.) Brand-new to the 2005 edition is a sharp restoration using Warner's Ultra Resolution process and an accompanying featurette on how it's done. The technicians also discuss how the sound was remixed, though that would have been more effective had it included surround-sound demonstrations (the featurette is in 2.0). Other features on the new set include a commentary track by critic John Fricke supplemented by vintage cast interviews (he offers a lot of trivia, and debunks the myth that Shirley Temple was ever close to getting the Dorothy role); profiles of nine cast members and clips of other movies they appeared in (including Toto); a lightly animated 10-minute storybook again narrated by Lansbury; 2001 and 2005 behind-the-scenes featurettes; and a 1950 Lux Radio Theater broadcast. Oh, and if you were still wondering about the missing material mentioned above—the 1999 disc included one-minute excerpts of three early treatments of The Wizard of Oz. Those excerpts are not included in the two-disc special edition, but the third disc of the three-disc collector's edition includes the completeversions of those treatments and more. —David Horiuchi

Philip Kaufman's intimate epic about the Mercuryastronauts (based on Tom Wolfe's book) was one of the most ambitious and spectacularly exciting movies of the 1980s. It surprised almost everybody by not becoming a smash hit. By all rights, the film should have been every bit the success that Apollo 13would later become;The Right Stuffis not only just as thrilling, but it is also a bigger and better movie. Combining history (both established and revisionist), grand mythmaking (and myth puncturing), adventure, melodrama, behind-the-scenes dish, spectacular visuals, and a down-to-earth sense of humor, The Right Stuffchronicles NASA's efforts to put a man in orbit. Such an achievement would be the first step toward President Kennedy's goal of reaching the moon, and, perhaps most important of all, would win a crucial public relations/morale victory over the Soviets, who had delivered a stunning blow to American pride by launching Sputnik, the first satellite. The movie contrasts the daring feats of the unsung test pilots—one of whom, Chuck Yeager, embodied more than anyone else the skill and spirit of Wolfe's title—against the heavily publicized (and sanitized) accomplishments of the Mercuryastronauts. Through no fault of their own, the spacemen became prisoners of the heroic images the government created for them in order to capture the public's imagination. The casting is inspired; the film features Sam Shepard as the legendary Yeager, Ed Harris as John Glenn, Dennis Quaid as "Gordo" Cooper, Scott Glenn as Alan Shepard, Fred Ward as Gus Grissom, Scott Wilson as Scott Crossfield, and Pamela Reed and Veronica Cartwright are superb in their thankless roles as astronauts' wives. —Jim Emerson