The Abominable Dr Phibes is an unusually beautiful horror classic in which Vincent Price stars as the titular genius who specialises in organ music, theology and concocting bizarre deaths for anyone who wrongs him. Discovering why is half the fun, so for now let's just say that Phibes is a little mad and very, very angry. Aided by his assistant, the lovely, silent Vulnavia, Phibes begins cutting a gory swathe through London's medical community, with the dogged Inspector Trout hot on his tail. The film contains many pleasures--exquisite art direction and a dark sense of humour among them--but the real treat is in watching an old pro such as Price at work. Whether he's playing his organ, staring down a victim or drinking through his neck, Price is at the top of his game. He mixes dark menace with wry comic touches, revealing both Phibes' maniacal obsession and offhanded confidence in his own genius. Settle in for an evening of elegant gore--and if an attractive, mute deliverywoman comes to the door, whatever you do, don't answer! --Ali Davis

James Cameron's 1989 aquatic epic The Abyss was, quite literally, a watershed in the annals of filmmaking: not only was it the first (and only) movie to be shot almost entirely underwater, in the largest tank ever used for a movie set, and to use live dialogue from specially designed headsets, it also pushed forward the boundaries of computer animation in one gigantic leap. The famous water tentacle sequence is now regarded as the defining moment when CGI came of age; ironically perhaps, its very success has ensured that the punishing realism of the setting, which is the best thing about the movie, is likely never to be attempted again.

But the impressive technical aspects aside, is the movie any good? Granted it contains any number of striking moments, from forcing a rat to breathe liquid (it really works, apparently) to resurrecting a drowned Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio. But the story is a slim one for the running time, especially in the extended Special Edition version which plays almost half an hour longer than the theatrical cut and contains a completely excised subplot featuring much too much heavy-handed moralising: "How all the world can stop fighting and learn to get along with each other", by James Cameron esq. All you need is love, apparently. Here is one rare example of the theatrical cut being preferable to the director's. Now, if only he had cut the love story from Titanic too

On the DVD: The Abyss Special Edition two-disc set has plenty of neat extra features, but is let down a little by the non-anamorphic 2.35:1 letterboxed picture. Sound, on the other hand, is vivid THX mastered Dolby 5.1. Happily, the first disc contains both the original theatrical cut and the extended special-edition version. There's a reasonably informative though inevitably rather dry text-only commentary. The principal extra on Disc 2 is a 60-minute documentary, "Under Pressure", with retrospective interviews in which cast and crew detail the extraordinary challenges involved in making the film, and more than one near-death experience. In addition there's the complete screenplay, various different pieces on the effects sequences, storyboards, artwork, DVD-ROM features--in short, plenty to keep even jaded DVD enthusiasts amused for hours. The menu interfaces for both discs are a treat and the set comes with a good 12-page booklet. --Mark Walker

In The Acid House director Paul McGuigan adapts three Irvine Welsh short stories. These are set in an unflinchingly depicted world of grey, breeze block tenements, wiry psychos, short leather skirts, beer, fags and drugs, kinky sex in badly wallpapered lounges, random violence, hideous-looking babies, raves, footy, discarded crisp packets and barely intelligible dialogue featuring the occasional use of non-profanity.

"The Granton Star Clause" tells the unhappy tale of wee, pasty-faced Boab Doyle, who in one long, unhappy sequence loses his place in the football team, his girlfriend, his job and gets kicked out of the house by his parents, before an encounter with God (here, a hard-bitten, lager-quaffing Maurice Roeves) leads to a surreal, Kafka-esque conclusion. The second tale, "A Soft Touch", is gruellingly and well portrayed but pointlessly depressing. Kevin McKidd plays Johnny, a supermarket employee with an appalling slag-hag of a girlfriend who takes up with his new, violently psychotic and parasitical neighbour Larry. Will he stand up for himself? The answer will leave you thoroughly unsatisfied. Finally, there's "The Acid House", the funniest but silliest of the three tales in which Ewan Bremner plays an obnoxiously livewire Hibs fan who takes one too many tabs and ends up being transported into the mind of stereotypically middle-class couple's--Martin Clunes and Jemma Redgrave--baby.

The Acid House is compulsive but bleak, exhilarating but ambivalent. The viewer is asked to bring their own moral compass to these stylised yet non-judgemental episodes. Fans of Trainspotting, however, will certainly find much of the scintillating same here.

On the DVD: disappointingly, only the trailer is featured here. However, the DVD transfer in letterbox format is impeccable, used to its best advantage in the more surreal, fast-cut music video-style sequences, while the soundtrack, featuring The Verve and Primal Scream among others, also benefits. --David Stubbs