As the eagerly awaited Cowboy Bebop feature film reunites the original director, screenwriter, composer, and vocal cast, it's not surprising that the film plays like an expanded TV episode. What should be the routine capture of a two-bit hacker by Faye escalates into a deadly game of cat and mouse, as Spike and the gang struggle to prevent the evil Vincent Volaju from murdering every human on Mars. Director Shinichiro Watanabe handles the action sequences with his usual panache. Inside the sinister Cherious Medical research facility, Spike fights a beautiful agent, using a push broom in a series of maneuvers Jackie Chan might envy. The climactic duel between Spike and Vincent plays against innocent yet eerie images of a Halloween carnival, recalling the amusement park setting of episode 20, "Pierrot Le Fou." Knockin' on Heaven's Door will delight fans of the series and provide an excellent introduction for the uninitiated who want to know why Cowboy Bebop is so popular on both sides of the Pacific. (Rated R: violence, brief nudity, minor profanity, tobacco use) —Charles Solomon

Once the early '80s ushered in the video age in earnest, few artists embraced the medium as willingly, or effectively, as Genesis. In fact, Genesis - The Video Show, a collection of 32 of the veteran British group's videos, includes more than a few items that pre-date MTV by several years, making this the comprehensive record of Genesis' post-Peter Gabriel era. There are all kinds of videos here, both black & white and color, somber ("No Son of Mine") and silly ("I Can't Dance"), topical ("Tell Me Why") and romantic, some with storylines and many that are simulated (i.e., lip-synced) performances, from both onstage and elsewhere. Song-wise, the best tend to be the hits, like "Misunderstanding," "Paperlate" (taken from England's "Top of the Pops" TV show), "That's All," and "Invisible Touch" (one of no less than six tracks taken from the 1986 album of the same name), although the '70s material, particularly from A Trick of the Tail (when the group was a foursome, with guitarist Steve Hackett), is also strong. On the other hand, the lesser-known tunes yield some of the better videos, including "Land of Confusion" (with its bizarre puppet versions of Genesis members Phil Collins, Mike Rutherford, and Tony Banks, not to mention Ronald and Nancy Reagan) and others ("Illegal Alien," "Jesus He Knows Me") that give Collins, a pretty fair actor, an opportunity for some full-on mugging. Granted, there isn't a lot of ground broken here; for the most part, Genesis has been a solid, journeyman band, and Genesis - The Video Show reflects that. But the 5.1 Surround Sound is excellent, there are full writing and production credits for every song and video, the packaging is classy… founding member Gabriel even turns up on a 1999 version of "The Carpet Crawlers," perhaps the most imaginative video of the bunch. If you're a Genesis fan, this has to be the motherlode. —Sam Graham

If you assumed that this video of Lilith Fair, the gathering of female rockers, folkies, and everything in between, was for women only, well, you wouldn't be far wrong. Not that there's anything wrong with that. The 80-minute video mixes interview clips and backstage footage with concert performances by such performers as Sarah McLachlan (Lilith Fair's founder), the Indigo Girls, Sheryl Crow, Jewel, Meredith Brooks, and Shawn Colvin. Individually and together, they talk about the industry pressures on women in popular music and the sense of community that developed between the performers, as they shared the collective experience of Lilith Fair. And if you guessed that this is a lengthy collection of gently lilting folk songs, guess again. While there is plenty of ultra-sensitive warbling, these women can also rock, including the Indigo Girls (on "Shame on You") and Meredith Brooks (on "Bitch"). —Marshall Fine

The unlikeliest cult hit of 2004 was What the (Bleep) Do We Know?, a lecture on mysticism and science mixed into a sort-of narrative. Marlee Matlin stars in the dramatic thread, about a sourpuss photographer who begins to question her perceptions. Interviews with quantum physics experts and New Age authors are cut into this story, offering a vaguely convincing (and certainly mind-provoking) theory about... well, actually, it sounds a lot like the Power of Positive Thinking, when you get down to it. Talking heads (not identified until film's end) include JZ Knight, who appears in the movie channeling Ramtha, the ancient sage she claims communicates through her (other speakers are also associated with Knight's organization). What she says actually makes pretty good common sense—Ramtha's wiggier notions are not included—and would be easy to accept were it not being credited to a 35,000-year-old mystic from Atlantis. —Robert Horton

Plonger dans l’univers de Rock et Belles Oreilles, c’est retrouver un esprit adolescent franchement audacieux. En 1988, sa deuxième année au petit écran, RBO avait choqué en montrant Jésus sous sa croix, se faisant essuyer et photocopier le visage par une pleureuse. Le clip était suivi du slogan : “Xerox, une Christ de bonne machine.” The DVD : 1988 donne à apprécier toutes les spécialités du groupe, notamment ses parodies de films (“Kenny”), de vidéoclips (“Gros twit, gros tas” des Gipsy Kings), de séries télévisées (“Snappe pis bourdonne”, pastiche de Lance et compte) et de pubs (“Contribution au distributeur”), passés au hachoir de leur joyeuse méchanceté.

Fidèles à eux-mêmes, les humoristes s’adonnent aussi à l’humour grossier, voire scatologique, mais au milieu des gags de “crastillon” et de crottes de nez, la critique socio-politique trouve sa place. Ainsi, “Le 4e Reich de John Parano” pousse à l’extrême la peur de l’assimilation ressentie par les Anglo-Montréalais. Il faut revoir ces pauvres anglophones, prisonniers d’un camp de concentration, forcés à jurer en joual… Enfin, ce cocktail explosif contient son lot de classiques, dont la succulente chanson “Pourquoi se droguer ?”, du plus-que-quétaine Ringo Rinfret.

Ajoutons que l’édition DVD comprend plus de 40 minutes de sketches supplémentaires, des capsules cachées, tous les épisodes de “Jack Travis” – exercice de style en forme de feuilleton policier – et près d’une demi-heure d’entretiens avec les membres. Tout pour éveiller la nostalgie de ce véritable party télévisuel. Et après avoir renoué avec ces enfants terribles, une question persiste : leurs successeurs se feront-ils bientôt entendre ? —Julie Parent

Daniel Lemire occupe une place à part dans le milieu de l’humour québécois. Discret au point d’espacer ses spectacles, il a su faire de chacune de ses apparitions des moments mémorables. Ses personnages aux reparties parfois cinglantes, comme Oncle George, ami des enfants malgré lui, Ronnie, l’éternel hippie, ou le Crooner, au talent douteux, figurent parmi les favoris du public. Même s’il ne comporte pas les intéressants monologues de l’humoriste sur l’actualité, trop figés dans le temps, 20 ans d’humour : 1982-2002 permet de prendre le pouls de la carrière de Lemire à travers une vingtaine de sketches. L’édition DVD compte cinq numéros supplémentaires, quelques publicités, ainsi que les commentaires de l’artiste sur son travail. Voilà donc une rétrospective des plus pertinentes.

Le hic, c’est que le travail de postproduction est pitoyable : on n’a nullement tenté de polir la qualité des images d’archives de façon à ce qu’elles forment un tout cohérent, les transitions entre les sketches sont abruptes et la qualité sonore laisse à désirer. Si ces lacunes techniques entachent le plaisir de l’écoute, on est tout de même heureux de renouer avec les personnages de Lemire et avec cet humour caustique qui lui est propre. —Nicolas Houle

L’un des tout premiers spectacles du célèbre Cirque du Soleil, Saltimbanco s’ouvre sur l’époustouflant numéro d’un couple et d’un enfant contorsionnistes qui, tout en élégance, en force et en émotion, expriment à n’en pas douter leur amour de la vie. De fait, les tableaux se déroulent dans un esprit d’inéluctable joie, dont témoignent tout aussi bien les costumes aux couleurs bigarrées, la musique signée René Dupéré, mariant percussions, guitares et saxophone, et la présence constante de clowns et de saltimbanques au regard allumé. Grâce à des prises de vue qui permettent d’apprécier en détail l’adresse des athlètes et des magiciens, Saltimbanco nous invite à admirer avec des yeux d’enfants les numéros de funambules, de jongleurs et d’acrobates de tout acabit, revus à la façon jubilatoire du Cirque du Soleil. —Julie Sergent

Even by the high standards of Cirque du Soleil, Varekai is outstanding. While this artsy circus often aspires to weave a narrative through its spectacular events, in Varekai that story (about a winged boy who falls to earth and falls in love with a caterpillar girl) is as delightful and engaging as the acrobatic feats—which is saying a lot, because these feats will leave you agog. Acrobats juggle each others' bodies with their legs; identical twins spin on aerial straps; a contortionist twists into uncanny pretzel shapes; and much, much more. The elaborate costumes truly do evoke an otherworldly place—one of the clown characters looks like a man's torso emerging from the mouth of a carnivorous plant. Exceptionally well-filmed, and featuring a wealth of extra features about the making of the show, Varekai is Cirque du Soleil at the peak of its powers: Dizzy, dazzling, and sexy. —Bret Fetzer

New experience indeed. Cirque du Soleil's Nouvelle Experience is another video compilation of acrobatic feats and inspired clowning. For example, four women on a suspended platform twist and contort their bodies until you'd swear their spines were made of rubber. Then lithe, muscular men and women launch themselves off of a teeter-totter so they can spin in all directions in mid-air; or they do the splits while walking on a tightrope; or they spin and balance umbrellas with their feet. Plus the stilt-walkers, the trapeze artists, the guy balancing on a giant ball—it goes on and on, all of it precise and impressive. A high point of this particular compilation is David Shiner's ingenious clown routine, in which he wordlessly convinces random audience members to be the actors in a silent movie. It's really, really funny. There's just not much else to be said about it. —Bret Fetzer