The death by accident of a mother's much loved son compels her to go to Barcelona and inform the father, who doesn't even know of the boy's existence. Finding the father is not so easy and by going to Barcelona, the mother digs back into a world she had left behind in order to bring up her son. It is a sordid but colourful world with transvestite prostitutes, junkies, an AIDs riddled nun, divas, and the usual associates of one's past. Remember that this is Almodovar, not Ivory-Merchant. However, these people are not displayed as freaks, but portrayed sympathetically. Almodovar celebrates their lives. He does not pass judgement.

Like other Almodovar films, the complex story line shows the strains that pull apart and bring together relationships. The emotional lives of the characters are laid bare. While there may be melodrama, there is a strict avoidance of sentimentality. The acting is wonderful, especially Cecilia Roth, who for some reason reminds me of the British actress, Hannah Gordon.

My only criticism is the use of coincidence. This is also a feature of other Almodovar's films; but here he stretches it a bit far. For instance, first the Cecilia Roth character steps in to take the part of an actress in a professional stage play, to great acclaim, and then when she leaves it, her transvestite friend, who as far as I know has never acted in his life, effortlessly takes over. This is a small criticism. "All About My Mother" is a splendid film by a great film maker. Without being a dreary feminist polemic, it is a celebration of women in all their roles: as mothers, as lovers, as carers; and to those who want to be women. Warmly recommended.

"Live Flesh" begins with Victor Plaza being born on a bus in Franco's Spain in 1970 and ends, twenty six years later, with... well, I wont spoil the ending; but typically with Almodovar, it is fitting and poetic. In between, we follow Victor on his journey into manhood, as he learns the hard way about disillusion, betrayal, love, lust, life, death, and tragedy.

As a young man, Victor believes that a one-off sexual encounter with a beautiful Italian junkie is something more than it is, and pesters her to such an extent that she draws a gun on him in order to get him to leave. A struggle ensues. The gun accidentally goes off, and although noone is hurt, it brings the unwelcome attention of two policemen. Another struggle ensues. Another shot is fired. One of the policemen is paralysed from the waist down. From then on, all four of their lives become tragically entwined; with deception and misunderstanding leading towards bitterness and envy. Inevitably, the lies are stripped away, unwanted truths are revealed, and all the various dilemmas are resolved amidst a scene of emotional and actual carnage.

This must sound like heady stuff, almost melodramatic? It is. This is Almodovar, after all. There is the usual complex plotting that reveals the strains that pull apart and bring together relationships while the emotional lives of the characters are laid bare. There is the relentless drive to resolve the emotional dilemmas while avoiding sentimentality. In short, there are all the usual touches that one expects from Almodovar, including the wonderful acting from the cast. Wonderful! A film that will draw you back again and again and again.

"Hable con Ella", as they say in Spain, follows the tragic paths of four people: Marco and Benigno, Lydia and Alicia. Marco falls in love with Lydia, a female bullfighter, who is gored by a bull. Benigno becomes obsessed with a dancer, Alicia, whom he can see from his apartment window practising in a studio. A car knocks Alicia down and Benigno becomes her nurse. Both women slip into a coma and it is in the hospital that the two men meet. Without giving too much of the plot away, they both lose the woman in their lives, but they find friendship with one another. This is the bare bones of the story. As with most of Almodovar's films, there are subtle depths that require repeated viewing to appreciate them fully. Almodavar deftly weaves the separate strands of the complex relationship of the four leading characters into a tightly focused and compelling piece of story-telling. Sad and uplifting, ironic and sympathetic, touching and unsentimental, this is a wonderful film. The acting is first-rate; Alberto Iglesias' score is enchanting, and Javier Aguirresarobe's cinematography is easy on the eye.

In a perfect world, this would be a great mini CD and a masterly tribute to Mose Allison. Georgie Fame and Ben Sidran excel both as singers and keyboard players - excellent phrasing and keyboard technique - who do full justice to Mose Allison's wonderful songs. Fame I am familiar with, but Sidran is new to me. His playing on this album is what the jazz piano should be, dazzling but un-fussy. Fame and Sidran complement each other perfectly. It would be interesting to see them do more albums together. Mose Allison must have been tickled pink at this paring.

Sadly, this is not a perfect world and this is not a mini CD. Van Morrison sings on half the songs and he is uniformly dreadful. He sounds like he is singing through a mouthful of mushy peas. The gentle humour and subtle craft of Allison's song writing is butchered by his self-important, pompous and soulless delivery. It is sad to think that in the 60s and 70s, he was one of rock music's best singers. Recordings such as Listen to the Lion or Madame George or his haunting version of Richard Cory are a testimony to this. These days are long gone. He has let himself go physically and artistically and he should call it a day and retire. Listening to him is now an annoying embarrassment.

Don't let Morrison put you off buying this recording. You can set your CD player to skip the Morrison tracks and just listen to Georgie Fame and Ben Sidran who are worth the price of this CD alone. It might also be an idea to type Ben Sidran's name into the Amazon Quicksearch and find out what else he has done.

Hidalgo is an entertaining piece of nonsense. Frank Hopkins, a half Indian long distance pony trekker who has wound up in Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, enters a race in the Arabian Desert to win the prize money. This is so that he can buy buffalo for the Indian people, without which, they will starve. Told you it was nonsense, didn't I? However, the race across the desert is very entertaining in an Indiana Jones sort of way, and even if I didn't believe a word of it - although it is suppose to be based on a true event! - I still enjoyed the film. This is worth seeing if you have nothing else to do. Omar Sharif makes an appearance, if that is any enticement.

Starsky and Hutch gaining cult status - who would have thought it? I remember the original tv series during the 70s. It was okay. Nothing special. Quite frankly, The Streets of San Francisco was better. However, Starsky and Hutch are as 70s as disco music, and I suppose that gives it a certain retro appeal. I watched this film with certain misgivings and those misgivings were certainly justified. Although the original series always had a nice balance between action and humour, this film is played strictly for laughs and make the two characters out to be a couple of idiots. It's almost like a remake of a Laurel and Hardy film. Some homage! They also get the character of Huggy Bear completely wrong. In the series, he is on the skirts of criminal activity and he makes a little extra money by informing the police. However, in the movie, he is a successful crime boss who has no need to make a little extra money, especially as being a police snitch would seriously jeopardise his reputation - something he would have to be stupid to do. I should also point out that Snoopy Dogg -Christ, what a name! How on earth does that give him any street cred? - cannot act to save his life. Not since David Bowie's performance in "Merry Christmas, Mr Lawrence " has there been such a lamentable lack of talent and charisma on the screen. He does not so much act the part as read his lines out loud. After saying all that, Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson do have a certain chemistry between them and the film is quite fun to watch. One to catch when it comes on tv and you have nothing else to do.

These 3 CDs each contain approximately just 25 minutes of music; but what music - blistering rock blasts such as Till The End of the Day and You Really Got Me; wonderful character sketches such as A Well Respected Man and Dedicated Follower Of Fashion; and precise and (often) witty vignettes such as Sunny Afternoon and Deadend Street. The songs show just what a great songwriter Ray Davies was, both musically and lyrically. At just under three minutes (no pop song should be over that), every song has a great melody that lingers forever in your mind - and that is true whether it is the deceptively lazy Sunny Afternoon or the prototype punk of All Day And All Of The Night. His lyrics are exercises in economy, precision, observation and wit. Anyone attempting to become a songwriter will learn something from listening to Ray Davies. He is truly one of the great songwriters.

Credit must also go to the band. They have a wonderfully tight and together rhythm section from Mick Avory and Pete Quaife; but it is Dave Davies, brother of Ray, who excels. He lays down some of the most menacing and brooding riffs since Link Wray - and I do not make such comparisons lightly. Just listen to Sittin' On The Sofa to see what I mean. The band perfectly complement Ray's excellent voice. This is what all rock music should aspire to be.

This is a wonderfully packaged selection- I especially love the fold out Kinks Pop Chronicle! This may not contain every single one of their sixties classics, - get The Ultimate Collection for that- but it has a good selection of them and it is the rarities such as Sittin' On The Sofa, Naggin' Woman, and Louie Louie that makes this such a find.

Every single track in this collection is an aural delight. I might add that in this image conscious age of ours, The Kinks were the best-dressed band in the land - and in the swinging 60s, that was quite something! Undoubtedly, James Barry had something to do with that -and you will have to read the Kinks Pop Chronicle to understand what I am talking about.

I came to this film after watching Eugenie de Sade, also made by Jess Franco; but, sadly, not availabe in America at the moment. The contrast between the two is startling. I love Eugenie de Sade; but of course, that film had Soledad Miranda in the title part and this film does not, which may explain a lot.

This film fails for three reasons: the acting, the direction, and the script.

Firstly, the acting. To say that Marie Liljedahl is no Soledad Franco would be a little unfair; after all, who is? That she made her name as a porn star rather than as an actress is apparant throughout every scene in this film. Half the time she seems to fumble in front of the camera wondering what to do. Maybe she is looking for direction from Jess Franco which, apparantly, she doesnt get. She isn't helped by the fact that this is an English language production and her voice is so-very-obviously dubbed. She also has to play opposite Maria Rohm, who excels, as does Christopher Lee.

Secondly, the direction. Jess Franco comes over like an amateur film maker with no real idea of what to do. His over use of the red filter, his clumsy editing, and his inability to direct Marie Liljedahl damns the film completely. Although this is obviously made be the same director that made Eugenie de Sade the following year, his flair seems to have deserted him here. Maybe he needs Soledad Miranda to inspire him?

Thirdly, the script. The idea of an innocent girl being slowly corrupted until she becomes evil is a fascinating theme. Sadly, the script handles it in such a kack-handed manner that I failed completely to believe that Eugenie would behave in such a way. She would be traumatised by her experiences, not corrupted.

So there you have it. One Goddamnawful film! It has one redeeming point: Marie Liljedahl's bottom. (This is what the one star is for) If she wasn't voted Rear of the Year in 1969 when this film was made, then she should have been. However, if this is not reason enough to buy this DVD, then buy Eugenie de Sade instead-it's available from Amazon UK. Eugenie de Sade - Now there is a minor classic.

Led Zeppelin's reputation as the world's premier rock band is richly deserved, and their debut album shows exactly why. Many bands drew upon the blues as the basis for their music; but few played it with the depth of feeling, conviction and understanding of Led Zeppelin. Their two Willie Dixon numbers that appear on this album, "You Shook Me" and "I Cant Quit You Baby", are a case in point. This is not the effete and limp wristed attempt at playing the blues which typified the British blues boom at this time. Instead, Zeppelin attack the songs with a ferocity and passion that matches a true originator like Howling Wolf. They made the songs their own in a way a more reverential act, such as John Mayall's Bluesbreakers, never could. Zeppelin never "ripped off the blues" as has so often been claimed: rather, they interpreted it in their own highly individual manner, and drew upon it for their own music.

What made them so good was that they were all so highly talented. Plant's range, volume and depth of feeling were amazing. Page's technique, both on acoustic and electric guitar, had been honed by years of session work until he reached the dazzling brilliance for which he became known. John Paul Jones played the bass with subtlety. Bonham's awesome drumming is like nothing else before or since: thunderous, aggressive, but with such perfect and unusual timing. Bonham, more than anyone, defined the sound of Zeppelin. Their talent is beautifully highlighted on the six minute forty-one second exercise in musical dynamics "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You." Page's percussive and rhythmic acoustic guitar playing is continuously punctuated by sudden and unexpected attacks of the rhythm section with Bonham laying down the beat as if he was beating time for the Gods themselves. Plant sings with power and beauty. I have played "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" repeatedly and it never fails to astonish me.

When they keep themselves tight and focused, no matter how long the song, they are the most powerful band in the world. When they experiment and improvise, as with "Dazed and Confused", then maybe their power diminishes a jot. Also, the short acoustic piece, "Black Mountain Side", beautifully played by Page, does sound a little too much like "Blackwaterside" by Bert Jansch and I did wonder why Jansch didn't get a much deserved credit. However, these are small criticisms. On this album, they displayed their musical credentials as both musicians and songwriters. Greatness was to follow.

Sometime in the future, human beings create artificial intelligence that ends up going to war with its creators - and wins. Human beings, instead of being destroyed, are kept alive in pods, their bodies being used as batteries to generate power for the artificial intelligence. The world we see around us is an illusion, created by the artificial intelligence for a reason I cannot for the life of me fathom. If all artificial intelligence needs is human bodies for batteries, why bother going to all the trouble of creating an incredibly sophisticated illusion? What is the point? Why not just keep the human race unconscious? This is a real weakness in the plot and kept nagging at me throughout the film. Since I couldn't buy into the central premise, I found it impossible to believe what was going on. However, I did enjoy the spectacular set pieces. The trick photography - which is what these computer generated special effects really are - is breathtaking, and I kept wondering to myself, "How did they do that." The fight scenes are quite something. Keanu Reeves acquits himself convincingly but Laurence Fishburne excels. An enjoyable lot of nonsense but the end left me with a severely scratched head.