I think it is reasonable to accept that this novel will have to endure repeated allusions to Kafka's early 20th century literature, particulaly the plight of Joseph K. But if we take Nabokov at his word (see the forward), then this work was written (in two weeks) in ignorance of any knowledge of Kafka and, as such, any comparisons are purely coincidental. That being said it is spooky that this novel (excluding the word play) has a very Kafkaesque feel. For instance the central character is condemened to death for offences that are never revealed, the date of the beheading is not known, the prison officals are bizarre as are the official rituals, family members pop up now and then, cause a stir and disappear for a chapter ot two, the list goes on. Like Ada and Adour I found this novel immersed me in a surreal dreamscape made up of ambiguous characters and supernatural events, with no real sense of chronology or, dare I say it, meaning. For me, however, the meditative power of the narrative (Nabokov praised his son's translation from the original Russian) and the interest I had for the fate of the hero compelled me to ride the moments I found hard work. Perhaps this work is principally a dream punctuated by moments of reflection from the character's "reality", such as, the arrogantly, unfaithful wife?

What I think this excellent film manages to achieve is to show that women who have to terminate their pregnancy (for whatever reason) but live in a society that prohibits abortion are forced to use potentially unsafe and traumatic medical procedures which could cause long term mental and/or physical ill health. Unlike Mike Leigh's likeable back street abortionist (Vera Drake), Mungiu offers the viewer a detestable character who exploits his power over the women he has offered to "help" and is highly aggressive and manipulative, culminating in appalling criminal behaviour. The film benefits from a brilliant screenplay that mercilessly evokes the stress and anxiety felt by the two women at the centre of the story. There is one fantastic scene (I think it's a continuous take) involving one of the women with her boyfriend at his mother's birthday dinner (the acting is of the highest quality). Overall this is a film that cleverly exposes the damaging effects of making abortion illegal but also the harrowing consequences of terminating a pregnancy.

I've only seen `Jeanne Dielman' and `Le Captive' but both films left me with a feeling of profound respect for what I consider to be a very talented film maker. I hope the rest of Ackerman's work displays the same credentials (although I'm not sure about `A Couch in New York'). This box set is very expensive but appears to contain Ackerman's hyper realist films like `Jeanne Dielman' which is, for me, and astounding examination of the mundane everyday activities of an urban woman living in late 1970s Brussels. And it is this "suburban" framework that provides the narrative progression in what appears on the surface to be a filmed succession of boring, repetitive, irritating domestic rituals. Then we have the end of the second day, an interval, then more of the same but with a difference. For Ackerman slowing and patiently starts to construct some subtle changes to Jeanne's routine (e.g. over cooking potatoes, not putting the lid on the pot), which has the cumulative effect of introducing a sense of foreboding, or put another way, an atmosphere tense with Jeanne's repressed emotion. For me Jeanne's emotional detachment from almost everything is symptomatic of a form of brainwashing created by a lifestyle seemingly devoid of fun and happiness. The mother appears as some form of automaton whose sole purpose is to satisfy the needs of others at the expense of the self. Interestingly Jeanne appears to have no need for a meaningful relationship with another person. I don't think Jeanne's son (her only significant "relationship") can be classified as an empathetic, particularly loving individual. Their conversations are made up of small talk and maternal instructions. He is the geeky teenager, conditioned by his mother's routine and dependent on her financial support. Money that is earned within the confines of Jeanne's bedroom (the towel spread on top of the bed's counterpane sums up Jeanne Dielman's almost objective approach to her existence). An existence that is put to its severest test in the last five minutes of the film: a truly magnificent piece of cinema and an example of Delphine Seyrig's exceptional acting abilities. One of my highlights (and there are many) was watching Jeanne making veal schnitzel which would not have been out of place on a TV cookery show.

Basil Dearden is not a name that stands out in the history of British Cinema. For me this is a shame because Dearden has made a number of interesting films that, I think, should be appreciated alongside other home grown talent of the time, such as David Lean, Carol Reed, Michael Powell and Lindsay Anderson. Yes The Man Who Haunted Himself suffers from some ropey special effects, contrived cinematography and a decidedly dodgy performance from Roger Moore but the quirky plot, implied bourgeois dysfunctional and corporate philandering lend this film a quintessential Englishness. I loved the premise that a successful man with all the privileges of class and wealth finds himself "haunted" by another version of himself. Indeed this other persona is far more interesting than the stiff, conventional, family man the viewer is introduced to at the start of the film. The "new" Mr Pelham has a sports care and a mistress, he is a rogue and a double-dealer, and he has no time for the suburban mediocrity of his other self. Surprisingly all these supposedly negative personality traits produce very positive results! One of the highlights of the film is found in the character of the psychiatrist whose advice to the original Mr Pelham, principally to buy a new wardrobe, seals his fate when the inevitable confrontation between the two Mr Pelhams takes place, which can be summed up in the words of one of Mr Pelham's sons: `Daddy why does that man look like you'.

Marvellous. The man's a genius. I had absolutely no idea who Zizek was before a friend told me to get on the case. I was sucked in within minutes of watching Fiennes' wistfully directed set pieces which complemented Zizek's use of cinema to explain, ultimately, that fiction is reality and vice versa! Using philosophy (I'm not sure what), Freudian psychoanalysis and, most importantly, a passion for film, Zizek provides a celluloid vista to show that the image projected on the screen is merely a reflection of our desires, fantasies and delusions. There is no difference between the screen character and the viewer: both are immersed in a perception of reality that may or may not be real (i.e. all experience is subjective). Zizek populates his discourse with scenes from numerous movies. Hitchcock and Lynch films predominate but there are many other classics to enjoy. And each time Zizek discusses a scene from a film, the viewer is treated to a reconstruction of the scene's location with Zizek strategically positioned in some part thereof. Zizek himself is a wonderful person; he exudes warmth, is often hilarious, has a profound understanding of the human condition and provides, for me at least, a very accessible insight into the `strangeness' of the mind. For instance, Zizek playfully uses the Marx brothers to elegantly explain the Freudian concept of the super-ego (Groucho), ego (Chico) and the id (Harpo). My favourite bits (and there are many) involve Zizek talking about tulips, Zizek under the Golden Gate Bridge and the scene where he's sitting on a lavatory whilst discussing voyeurism.

What I liked about this Truffaut offering was the manner in which a stiched up millionaire is willing to sacrifice everything to keep a dangerously egotistical Siren by his side. Reason (she's a fake), logic (what! joint bank accounts) and rationality (loving her!) is conveniently discarded and replaced by a hypnotic obssession that subverts conventional notions of love being a bilateral acceptance of mutual respect, mental and physical infatuation and shared spiritual identity. Instead here we have the unbelievably beautiful Deneuve who only has to "sing" (albeit in disguise) to attract her victim towards his doom. A woman who is free with her body, criminal and murderous. But perhaps this is exactly what is wanted by our hero: a life precariously balanced between the erotically charged needs (a sort of intense emotional high) of the present and a fatalistic attitude to the future. The final scene is marvelous because, for me, it summed up the essence of the film: a love story, bizarre, but nevertheless a loving union between two souls.

Leave this "documentary" well alone if your looking for cuddly pets and cuddly owners. For this film maker is only interested in outsider pet lovers, who are often disturbing and certainly strange. But there is much to enjoy, particularly the very dark humour and whether or not these people are real and, for that matter, the pets! For me Animal Love is difficult to take seriously and some of Seidl's footage appears manufactured and possibly motivated by the presence of the camera although it may all be true and Seidl just has to point and stare. If the latter applies then you'll feel very scared.

Paul Schrader's description of Bresson's films as, put simply, a transcendental experience is clearly displayed in a Man Escaped. For me the monotone narration, austere environment and Mozart's music enhances the mood of a film about a captured French resistance fighter who is facing death at any moment but, incredibly, with enough physical and mental endurance to seek freedom. Bresson offers the viewer meticulous detail as our hero, for instance, scratches away at the door of his cell or weaves together sheets and clothing for rope. The tension created by the footsteps of guards, the ambiguous intentions of other prisoners or the ever present threat of the firing squad is very real and I find it remarkable that this linear, relatively "undramatic" film can conjure up such intense feelings. Awesome.

Along with Grey Gardens, Salesman is a great Maysles documentary although to what extent the reality of selling bibles converges on the film makers narrative is open to question. Nevertheless the work displays an honesty that disects the relentless pressure on the salesmen to meet their targets regardless of the tactics used to secure a sale. Interestingly the Maysles were not allowed to show footage of the bible salesmen making their pitch at local Catholic churches where they got their leads. For me the film's pathos is centred on 'Badger' a salesman who would not be out of place in Arthur Miller's 'Death of a Saleman'. There is much to enjoy in this film not least the customers, getting lost in the suburbs of Florida and the mock heroics at the annual sales convention.

For me Self's confidence with the Englsih language should be admired and applauded by those readers who find most comtemporary literature dull and unimaginative. Yes there are words that only someone with access to the complete Oxford English dictionary will be able to interpret but the glory of Self's prose and his incredible narrative structure more than make up for the odd snippet of obscure vocabulary. I found the two short stories hilarious and was mesmersied by the bizarre circumstances involving genital metamorphosing and associated gender role reversal. Remarkable.