Vera Cruz was only director Robert Aldrich's second Western (his first, made a few months earlier, was the revisionist, pro-Native-American Apache), but it's such an assured, stylish affair that he might have been roaming the sagebrush for decades. In the aftermath of the American Civil War two lone adventurers make their way south of the border, where Mexico is fighting a civil war of its own to rid the country of the French-imposed Emperor Maximilian. Neither the dour Benjamin Trane (Gary Cooper) nor the grinning, devil-may-care Joe Erin (Burt Lancaster) has much in the way of idealism, but Trane still retains a thin bitter edge of integrity, a quality quite alien to the cheerfully amoral Erin. In uneasy alliance, constantly looking to outwit or double-cross each other, the two find themselves escorting a beautiful French countess (Denise Darcel) and a shipment of gold across country. Cooper and Lancaster create a superb double-act, using their contrasted screen personas to point up the humour and the cynicism of the two mercenaries' relationship. Darcel makes less than she might of the femme fatale role, but there are relishable cameos from Cesar Romero as a suavely duplicitous aristo and Ernest Borgnine as another gringo with an exceptionally vicious streak. The script, according to Aldrich, was written on the run, "always finished about five minutes before we shot it", but you wouldn't guess it from the laconic wit of the dialogue. It looks great, too--Ernest Laszlo's widescreen photography makes the most of the handsome Mexican locations.

With its irreverent take on the accepted moral conventions of the genre, Vera Cruz ushered in a new kind of Western, and its central love-hate relationship would be replayed in Sam Peckinpah's Ride the High Country (1962) and Sergio Leone's The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966).

On the DVD: Not much in the way of extras but the mono sound has been expertly remastered to the benefit of Hugo Friedhofer's spirited score. Above all, the film's presented in its full Superscope ratio (16:9), a blessed relief after all those years when it showed up panned-and-scanned on BBC1. If ever a movie needed widescreen, it's this one--if only to fit in all Burt's teeth. You can see why they called him "Crockery Joe". --Philip Kemp

Set in Sweden in 1975, this is the story of Elisabeth who runs away from her abusive husband to live in her brother's commune. Swedish dialogue with subtitles.

In March 2001 some of the world's greatest lyric voices assembled in the cavernous Teatro Padiglione Palacassa in Parma for a Verdi Gala to commemorate the centenary of the composer's death. The works included in this concert are generally taken from his most famous operas, but there are one or two surprises too: it's not often you get the chance to hear the gorgeous "Dieu nous separe" from the Parisian grand opera Jerusalem (1847), for example, or arias from Il Corsaro (1848). The singing is mostly of a very high standard: Barbara Frittoli uses her glorious voice with intelligence in the excerpt from Il Trovatore, and Daniela Dessi is stunning in "Pace, pace" from La Forza del Destino.

Older singers like Carreras and Domingo are also still on superb form, too, and both men manage to sound heavenly while packing a mighty dramatic punch. But there are also some weak links: Mariella Devia is a little too slippy-slidy in her coloratura to be a convincing Violetta, and Leo Nucci simply shouts his way through Il Trovatore. Despite the familiarity of the material, Zubin Mehta conducts with a beguiling freshness of approach and plenty of warmth and wit: the playful phrasing in "La donna e mobile" is simply charming

On the DVD: Verdi Gala comes with fine picture quality, but the recording balance favours the singers over the orchestra and leaves some details of the ensemble inaudible. Each number is introduced with a personal comment from the singers, leading to some old ham from Jose Cura and some silly journalese from the others: "And thus La Traviata was born overnight", is one particularly vacuous example. The DVD also includes a slide-show of stills from the rehearsals, and subtitles in English, German, French, Spanish and Italian. --Warwick Thompson

La Scala went all-out for its 1986 production of this grandest of grand operas, with a strong cast and--most important for a video recording--a larger-than-life staging. The Triumph Scene in Act II is by no means Aida's only attraction, but it is the part that makes the strongest and most lasting impression and it is the visual and musical climax of this production. Stage director Ronconi brings on a procession to dwarf all processions: looted treasures, heroic statuary, miserable captives struggling under the lash of whip-bearing slave-drivers. On par with these visuals is Lorin Maazel's first-class performance of the popular "Grand March" with the outstanding La Scala chorus and orchestra. In Act III, the contrasting tranquillity of the Nile Scene also gets a visual treatment to match the music's qualities.

When it is not an epic spectacle, Aida is a tragic story of love, jealousy and horrible revenge. The shifting focus between vast spectacle and intimate moments-sometimes awkward in a live performance onstage--presents special opportunities and challenges for a video recording. In this Aida, the camera work shows an acute awareness of those opportunities and challenges. The soloists have a variety of strengths that outweigh a few small weaknesses. Luciano Pavarotti sings one of his signature roles in superb voice, but his weight problems are visually evident and detract from his impact as the dashing hero Radames. Maria Chiara has moments of vocal imperfection but gives a dramatically compelling performance. Ghena Dimitrova sings powerfully and the supporting cast is excellent throughout. --Joe McLellan, Amazon.com