An epic, eight-part series that took five years to complete, The Blue Planet firmly re-establishes the BBC as the world's pre-eminent producer of top quality nature documentaries. Exploring every aspect of marine ecosystems, from coastal marshes to deep-sea trenches and from polar waters to tropical reefs, The Blue Planet is thorough and informative, yet never less than thrilling.

Sir David Attenborough is one of the most well-respected (and well-known) personalities in the field of nature programmes and his narration is flawless as he educates and inspires without patronising his audience or anthropomorphising his subjects. Spectacular camera work (of a standard not seen since the BBC's classic Life on Earth series) captures images of a fascinating world rarely seen by human eyes--in fact, in several instances, the subjects and behaviours filmed for this series have never been witnessed before, let alone caught on camera. This is particularly apparent on the series highlight, "The Deep" (Programme 2), where film crews discovered two new species in the depths of the ocean: a grotesque fish named the Hairy Angler and a fantastic, pink octopus-like creature, which is so new that it remains unnamed (but was nicknamed "Dumbo"). Both are testament to the fact that, although oceans cover two-thirds of the Earth, we know less about them than we do the moon. It is proof that, to us land-dwellers, much of our Blue Planet is alien indeed. A handsomely illustrated companion book is also available. -- Robert Burrow

This 1992 crowd pleaser made almost as much money for Whitney Houston as its chart-busting soundtrack. A high-wattage star vehicle as only Hollywood can make, The Bodyguard stars Houston as a pop-music diva (now there's a stretch) and Kevin Costner as the stern bodyguard who is assigned to protect her after the singer receives some nasty death threats. Pop star and bodyguard don't hit it off at first, but they wear down each others' defenses, and before long Houston is baring her tonsils with a rousing rendition of the Dolly Parton chestnut "I Will Always Love You." The film, written by Lawrence Kasden, was originally intended for Steve McQueen, but the script languished for years before Houston took an interest in the project. A proposed sequel would potentially have starred Costner and Princess Diana, until Diana's tragic death precluded that possibility. --Jeff Shannon, Amazon.com

Released in late 1999, The Bone Collector was originally promoted as a thriller in the tradition of The Silence of the Lambs and Seven, suggesting that it would earn a place among those earlier, better films. Nice try, but no cigar. The Bone Collector settles instead for mere competence and the modest rewards of a well-handled formula. With a terrific cast at his service, director Phillip Noyce (Dead Calm, Patriot Games) turns the pulpy indulgence of Jeffery Deaver's novel into a slick potboiler that is grisly fun only if you don't pick it apart.

Noyce expertly builds palpable tension around a series of gruesome murders that lead us into the darkest nooks of New York City.

Now a bedridden quadriplegic prone to life-threatening seizures and suicidal depression, forensics detective Lincoln Rhyme (Denzel Washington) gets a new lease on life with a sharp young beat cop (Angelina Jolie) who's a wizard at analyzing crime scenes. She does field work while he deciphers clues from his high-tech Manhattan loft, and as they narrow the search their lives are increasingly endangered. As this formulaic plot grows mouldy, Noyce resorts to narrative shortcuts, using perfunctory scenes to manipulate the viewer and taking morbid pleasure in his revelation of the murder scenes. And yet it all works, to a point, and the cast (including Queen Latifah and Luiz Guzmán) is much better than the material. If you're looking for a few good thrills, The Bone Collector is a pretty safe bet. --Jeff Shannon, Amazon.com

Is it time, after the anonymous disaster of Mission to Mars, to give Brian De Palma's famously doomed film of Tom Wolfe's bulky novel Bonfire of the Vanities another chance? The uproarious ins and outs of the film's troubled production have become well-known via Julie Salamon's account of its making, The Devil's Candy, and fans of that might want to flick between page and screen to see just when Melanie Griffith caused untold continuity problems by having her breasts inflated. Techno buffs will surely appreciate the pointless but somehow wonderful trickery of an extended tracking shot at the outset that exists only to last a few seconds longer than the one in Orson Welles Touch of Evil (1958). Tom Hanks was rather better cast than was generally allowed, as "master of the universe" Sherman McCoy, who comes a cropper after a hit-and-run accident, since his nice-guy act shows intriguing cracks. And even Bruce Willis does his best on a hiding to nothing as the drunken writer. It is funny in parts, agonising in others, and misses Wolfe's tone--but somehow its failures might make it as symptomatic of the long-gone excesses of the early 90s as the novel was of the 80s. --Kim Newman

With the advent of satellite broadcasting resurrecting the art of the TV movie, films like the invigorating The Boondock Saints are becoming more frequent. Made for Sky, the movie eschews big-screen production values but is still good value for money. Although the story of two Irish-American brothers who set out on a believed divine mission to wipe out the worst of the criminal element of Boston at times seems like an imitation of the superb Dogma, both films were actually made in the same year. The film is not without its faults, notably the poor performances of Sean Patrick Flanery and Norman Reedus as the two brothers--both of whom adopt ludicrous Irish accents. Far better is Willem Dafoe, who steals the show as FBI agent Smecker, and the manic David Della Rocco. Still, The Boondock Saints is highly watchable and keeps the viewer interested throughout with a strong story, frequent black humour and arresting visuals. And there aren't many places where you will come across Billy Connolly as a Mafia contract killer. --Phil Udell