The kick is never shown, but the entire film is based around it. It's winter in the remote Shaanxi province. Pregnant Qiu Ju (Gong Li, 2046) is married to laidback farmer Qinglai (Liu Pei Qi). When village chief Wang (Lei Lao Sheng) kicks him during an argument, she sets out to ensure that her husband receives medical attention-and justice. Clad in a bulky jacket, face partially obscured by a thick scarf, the strong-willed woman, joined by sister-in-law Meizi (Yang Liu Chun), travels far and wide to find someone who can coerce Wang to apologize (she asked, he refused). All agree the chief was in the wrong, but each authority with whom she meets hands her off to another. Along the way, the couple is offered financial compensation (for medical care and lost wages), but an apology is as elusive as a dragonfly in December. Taking cues from both Frank Capra (Mr. Smith Goes to Washington) and Vittorio De Sica (Bicycle Thieves), Zhang Yimou (House of Flying Daggers) presents modern-day China as a country where bureaucrats run the show and the citizens-especially the women-must suffer the consequences. Fortunately, some are more persistent than others, and The Story of Qiu Ju is far from tragic. [+]

This love story made in 1955 and set against the backdrop of war is a many-splendored thing: it features a drop-dead gorgeous Eurasian doctor seeking meaning in her life (Jennifer Jones), a dashing but married American war correspondent who's macho yet not afraid to declare his love (William Holden), and a couple of murky subplots to give their relationship its oh-what's-going-to-happen-next edge (her Chinese heritage, his wife, the outbreak of the Korean War). One scene builds beautifully upon the next, accompanied by dialogue that often sounds like poetry: "I will make no mistakes in the name of loneliness," the doctor says near the beginning of their relationship. The movie also makes few mistakes as it combines thoughtful words with Oscar-winning costumes to tell its tale. It even leaves you with a hummable tune-the Academy Award-winning title song-as you reach for the Kleenex. -Valerie J. Nelson.

Considered surrealist Luis Buñuel most linear film, Diary of a Chambermaid is an excellent introduction to this director's dark satirical world of social criticism. Loosely based on Mirbeau's Journal D'Une Femme de Chambre, Buñuel uses the beautiful French countryside as a backdrop to ruthlessly display his favorite subjects: Catholicism, the bourgeoisie, nationalism, and moral decay. Jeanne Moreau is Celestine, a chambermaid from Paris who takes a job at a picturesque country estate. When the body of the staff's daughter is discovered raped and murdered, Celesine does whatever is necessary to uncover the girl's killer. She quickly learns that her new employees, though apparent pillars of nouveau aristocracy, are as morally corrupt as the girl's murderer. Though extremely linear for Buñuel, Diary of a Chambermaid does not lack for profound, symbolic imagery and cryptic revelations. -Rob Bracco.

At turns both mesmerizing and frustrating, Mike Figgis's 1999 experimental feature interweaves an audacious dramatization of the Adam and Eve myth with autobiographical vignettes from the director's life. In Figgis's golden rendering of the Genesis tale, the first humans are a black man (Femi Ogumbanjo) and a white woman (Hanne Klintoe), who emerge one day, fully formed, from a lake, and regard each other with playful wonder. They discover, like children, their anatomical differences, and explore the surrounding green paradise until coming upon the tree of knowledge. From this they eat and almost instantly reevaluate one another with a steely lust. Thus their, and our, fabled fall from grace ends in the mire of sexual possession and walled-off feeling, a tragedy that Figgis (Leaving Las Vegas) uses as a touchstone for the contemporary story of a filmmaker named Nic (Julian Sands). Nic's own youthful experiences with various kinds of formative humiliation, including finding his teenage girlfriend in bed with his best friend, are presented as flashbacks meant to resonate with his marital unhappiness today. Less clear are other moments out of time that don't particularly connect with Figgis's major theme, especially an odd development in which twin sisters (both played by Saffron Burrows), each unaware of the other's existence, have a fleeting, worlds-are-colliding encounter at an airport. Figgis also reaches into a grab bag of Nic's other old sorrows, things that don't uniquely inform or enhance the film's point, and muddies things up a bit. But the sheer hubris of marrying a myth with a memoir carries the day here, and Figgis leaps the hurdle of potential self-parody with a certain courage. -Tom Keogh.

The panorama of 20th-century Chinese history swirls past two men, celebrated actors with their own decidedly specialized view of things. We first observe their lives as children at the Peking Opera training school, a brutal and demanding arena for future actors. While still in training, the effeminate Douzi is chosen to play the transvestite role and the masculine Shitou is chosen to play the royal role in a ritualized play about a king and a concubine. The actors are so good at this performance that they become identified with these roles for their entire careers; through World War II, through the takeover by the Communists, through the insanity of the Cultural Revolution, they are known for their famous parts. Leslie Cheung and Zhang Fengyi are powerful as the two men, and Gong Li (the beautiful leading lady of Raise the Red Lantern) plays the wife of the latter. The movie may be stronger on good old-fashioned melodrama than on profound conclusions, but boy, does it fill up the eyes. The director is Chen Kaige, one of the most talented members of China's "Fifth Generation" of filmmakers, whose daring subject matter (and sometimes bald international ambitions) have often irked the Chinese government. Indeed, though Farewell My Concubine shared the top prize at the 1993 Cannes Film Festival and snagged two Oscar nominations, it had difficulty gaining official approval from China. -Robert Horton.

Olivier Martinez (Unfaithful, The Chambermaid) plays Angelo, an exceptionally gallant, Italian soldier-in-exile hiding out from his Austrian enemies in rural France, where a cholera epidemic is sweeping the countryside. Helped in a tough spot by a countess (Juliette Binoche), Angelo swears his unyielding protection to her as she searches for her missing husband. The nobler virtues hold sway as Martinez suppresses his own deepening love and desire for the lady, an admirable posture that has ironic consequences when the countess herself becomes deathly ill. Jean-Paul Rappeneau, maker of the ornamental but empty Cyrano de Bergerac, directs this adventure-romance to a nice pitch of vitality and high drama. The two leads establish a great chemistry (they became offscreen lovers and parents), like watching a pair of thoroughbreds running in the same race. -Tom Keogh.

Yes was on tour to promote the recent release of Close to the Edge when this energetic performance was captured on 16-millimeter film in London's Rainbow Theatre in December 1972. Although this DVD was mastered from a ragged print (with plenty of scratches evident throughout), this is actually the better of the two Yes discs available (the other-Live in Philadelphia-has an even murkier transfer from videotape), with marginally better sound quality and a 75-minute performance that finds the band at the height of their "early years" popularity. The lineup is the same as that of the 1979 performance in Philadelphia (Jon Anderson, Steve Howe, Chris Squire, Alan White, Rick Wakeman), but this concert is by a much younger, much more ambitious band that was still forging its formidable prog-rock identity. As a result this is the more valuable of the two Yes performances on DVD-a tighter, sharper, more satisfying look at the band at the peak of their creativity. It's also worth noting that they allowed room for solo improvisations (such as Howe's playful rendition of "The Clap" and Wakeman's excerpts from "The Six Wives of Henry VIII"), but as a group they remained intimately faithful to their studio recordings. And although even die-hard fans will grumble about the film's murky quality (which DVD can do nothing to improve), camera access was adequate for this show and each member of the band is given adequate screen time to demonstrate his instrumental virtuosity-particularly Howe, whose guitar work here is nothing short of amazing. While it's unfortunate that both DVDs featuring live Yes music leave much to be desired, this disc is definitely worth owning if you've ever wanted to see the giants of '70s prog-rock at the top of their game. -Jeff Shannon.