Starring Anthony Quinn in the title role Barabbas was released in 1961 in the midst of a wave of widescreen epics based on Biblical characters. "It begins where the other big ones leave off", declaims the trailer. The screenplay, by playwright Christopher Fry (who also contributed to Ben-Hur), is an unusually intelligent one: listen out for Barabbas' final encounter with the Apostle Thomas, for example. Further assets are the imaginative, sparingly orchestrated score by Mario Nascimbene and a handsome production design by art director Mario Chiari that is so rewarding to the eye in Aldo Tonti's often dazzling cinematography.

Like the other Biblical epics of the day, in its original theatrical incarnation Barabbas had an intermission and orchestral intermezzo which is sadly missing from this version. (It occurred at the point where Barabbas emerges from a 20 years exile in the sulphur mines in Sicily, allowing the audience to dwell on his recuperation before we next encounter him. He now appears muscled and bronzed ploughing the verdant fields outside Rome in all too quick a fashion!). Many scenes, such as Christ's crucifixion, are shot and staged like tableaux in a style reminiscent of the great masters of art. And in Fleischer's hands this film surpasses anything Ridley Scott achieved years later in Gladiator: he fills the huge arena--a vast Roman amphitheatre--with a gladiatorial school of hand-to-hand combat, a parade of elephants and a den of lions, and then caps his production with a riveting and thrillingly mounted duel between Jack Palance, careering round the circumference of the arena in his chariot, and Barabbas dodging him on foot. The supporting cast, who sport a variety of accents call for some tolerance, however.

On the DVD: Barabbas on disc comes devoid of any extra features other than trailers for it and another contemporaneous blockbuster, The Guns of Navarone. --Adrian Edwards

Baraka is a non-narrative visual poem addressing, according to director Ron Fricke, "humanity's relationship with the eternal." The title means "breath of life" or "a blessing" and the film unfolds into a tapestry of global images shot over 13 months in 24 countries, comparable to, but far more ambitious than Koyaanisqatsi (1983) which Fricke also wrote, edited and photographed. Like Bernardo Bertolucci's similarly meditative Little Buddha (1993), Baraka was designed as a powerful audio-visual experience, one of a handful of films made in the 1990s to revive the immensely cinematic 70mm process.

Filled with staggeringly beautiful vistas which are striking, rich in detail and immaculately composed, the screen is complemented by an immersive Dolby Digital soundtrack fusing natural sounds with a haunting world music score. (At one point composer Michael Stearns combines Japan's Kodo Drummers, a Scottish bagpipe ensemble and a Tibetan water music orchestra.) Baraka encourages the audience to think or be entranced, and depending on mood and circumstance it can enthral or bore. With its epic, trans-human scale, vast formal grandeur, depersonalised abstraction, startling juxtapositions and avowed ambition to be the ultimate non-verbal film, Fricke has created a visionary experience akin to 2001: A Space Odyssey.

On the DVD: Baraka is accurately transferred at the original 70mm theatrical ratio of 2.2:1, not as the packaging says as 2.35:1. The picture quality is superlative, with virtually no flaws and razor-sharp images. The Dolby Digital 5.1 sound is equally outstanding. The extras are presented at 4:3 with letterboxed clips, and being video based offer lower image quality. These special features play for approximately 25 minutes and, apart from the original theatrical trailer, are divided into three sections containing significant overlaps between the material. The "making of" documentary and the collection of to-camera comments from members of the production team are both interesting, but the behind the scenes location filming footage adds little substance. --Gary S Dalkin

In a building site in Tehran, Lateef, a Iranian worker is irresistibly drawn to Rahmat, a young Afghan worker. The revelation of Rahmat's secret changes both their lives.