Opening with extracts from Morrison’s own 1969 art film, HWY, DiCillo uses scenes of the by-now bearded singer driving through the desert and overlays them with radio reports of his death in Paris. It has the ethereal effect of making us feel as if Morrison is watching the story unfold with us, ready to hold our hand through its retelling.

Unlike most music documentaries, When You’re Strange forgoes the usual present-day talking heads so everything is seen through the eyes of 1960s America. Footage from Vietnam, the moon landing and Kennedy’s assassination all help give a flavour of the highly charged and politicised times the Doors were a product of – but it is the treasure trove of archive footage of the band that is the real attraction.

Shot by Paul Ferrara, an old UCLA college friend of Morrison’s, the filmmaker’s personal relationship with the band allows him to capture an unguarded intimacy that is fascinating. While fans will revel in the sheer volume of concert footage, it is clips such as those of Morrison riding his bike and Ray Manzarek having breakfast with his girlfriend that are most beguiling.

DiCillo‘s editing style soon wears thin, though, with what was initially an exhilarating trip through the Doors’ back catalogue turning into a visual bombardment of scenes you’re sure you saw earlier. Matters are made worse by the surprisingly flat narration by Depp, who falls on the wrong side of the line between laconic and lecturing.

Clearly drawn in by Morrison’s charisma, DiCillo’s script may seem a touch devotional to those who question the singer’s shamanic pretensions – but the magnetism is there for all to see. Manzarek, Krieger and Densmore for the first time become more than bit-parts to Morrison’s star turn, and seeing the mixture of sadness, frustration and anger on their faces at his descent into alcoholism makes the story even more tragic.

Doors’ fans will learn little they didn’t already know from When You’re Strange, while newcomers may find it a less accessible introduction to the band than Stone’s flawed biopic. But as the albums continue to sell in their millions, the Doors’ place in rock history is assured regardless.

Stars Jim Morrison, Ray Manzarek, John Densmore, Robby Krieger and narrated by Johnny Depp
Directed by Tom DiCillo
Certification UK 15 | US R. Read review on Screenjabber.com

Set in the heady days of 2007, when the credit bubble was yet to burst, Gus (Aidan Gillen) was sitting pretty at the top of his banking tree while Dave (Dominic Cooper) was happily selling anyone who’ll listen down the river with a discounted mortgage they wouldn’t be able to afford. Anyone, that is, including his old school mate, Jim (Joseph Mawle), still stuck on the same estate where he grew up. Fast-forward a year and the credit-fuelled world of all three starts to collapse around their ears, with all-too familiar consequences.

A semi-improvised script and real people dotted throughout gave Fallout the eerie, real-life feeling of a documentary, underlined by the handheld camerawork and close crops. Incidental music is just that – incidental – and served effectively to highlight the disparity between the high-life of Gus with the hard slog of Jim and Mandy’s life.

The great thing about Savage’s work here is there were no completely innocent parties in this precarious credit pyramid – just different levels of human greed. From Gus and Dave, whose lives are defined by the trappings of success, right down to the Jim, who just couldn’t help but be tempted by Dave’s promises of a big house and respectability that play on his male pride. The one thing they all had in common was a blindness to see the things of real value – their relationships with those close to them.

It was a fairly damning verdict on the consumer culture so prevalent in today’s society, and certainly got across the message that it is a collective mentality and lack of accountability that has got us into the state we’re in. It was also a bloody good piece of TV in the best traditions of British drama as social commentary. Read review on TV Scoop

Over half way into the series and Lie To Me is really starting to come into its own. The overt close-ups on facial ‘micro-expressions’ – which Cal Lightman (Roth) and his colleagues are hired to spot to weed out liars – are no longer needed now viewers are up to speed, so the whole thing is altogether more subtle giving greater freedom to concentrate on the characters.

There have been the usual hints over the last few weeks of a dark secret that drives Lightman, and last night we finally learnt that he blames himself for not picking up on his mother’s unhappiness before she killed herself. (Although I could have told you that much from watching the trailer, which kind of ruined the big reveal near the end – why do channels have to do that?)

The suicides of three young Indian girls in similar circumstances proves too close to home for Lightman, who becomes obsessed with discovering what drove them to it. Foster, too, is struggling to cope with her emotions as she remains in denial over her marital difficulties – apparently forgetting that Lightman and his gang are ninjas in spotting liars and know it’s patently obvious her husband is hiding something.

Even the unfeasibly cheery Loker is given something to rail against this episode, as he investigates a Madoff-style investment scam with Foster. Having discovered a terminally ill Wall Street banker is actually taking the flak for his daughter, Foster agrees to keep this from the authorities providing the victims get their money back. But it seems Loker would rather see pensioners die in a hovel than let “devil spawn” like that get away with it, so goes behind Foster’s back to report it. This one is bound to run and run throughout the rest of series, as Loker confesses to Torres and brings her into his professional betrayal.

The fact the show isn’t confined to being merely a police or medical procedural gives it far more scope than you’d think for something based around body language. Add to that neat little touches like using video of real instances where public figures have been proved to have lied (take a bow, Bill Clinton – who has featured in almost every episode so far) and Lie To Me is a refreshing change from the likes of CSI and co. Whether it has the legs to go more than one series is debatable, but for now I’m happy just to enjoy this one. Read review on TV Scoop

Regardless of whether or not you liked The Take – and I’m sure plenty had it pegged as trash TV from the poster alone – at a time when the industry is all doom and gloom over the prohibitive cost of making drama, you have to admire Sky’s nerve. It’s made no secret of its desire to become a serious player in drama, and has put its money where its mouth is at a time when others don’t have that luxury.

Don’t get me wrong, The Take had its faults – not least a stuttering opening episode – but a series of superb performances from Hardy, Charlotte Riley and Shaun Evans helped elevate it above the usual dross proliferating the listings.

As the psychopathic criminal Freddie, Hardy flicks between the endearingly naïve to the frankly terrifying, while Evans completes with ease the journey from Freddie’s wide-eyed cousin, Jimmy, to calculating drugs overlord ready to overthrow his increasingly coke-addled relative. In the middle of it all, as usual, are the women and children left to deal with the fallout.

The groundwork has been laid for this fourth and final part to be pretty gruesome and it doesn’t disappoint. Proving the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, episode three signed off with Little Freddie murdering Little Jimmy, believing¬ – rightly – that his father loved him more. As the lies and grief start catching up with each of the characters, it’s fairly obvious things are going to end badly for Freddie – it’s just a question of when…and who.

Admittedly the story isn’t cutting edge when it comes to originality, and many will see the series as a by-numbers, Kray-style effort calling on all the genre’s gangster clichés (minus Danny Dyer, of course). And in some ways they’d be right.

But with more than a touch of a Greek tragedy about it, hidden beneath the occasionally grating cockney accents is a web of familial deceit, temptation and split loyalties that Mistresses couldn’t come close to. And after all, just because you know where you’re heading doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy getting there. Read review on TV Scoop

The Madoff Hustle goes some way to disproving WC Fields’ words “You can’t cheat an honest man”, as Bill’s son Willard Foxton talks to other victims and unravels the outrageous simplicity of the ‘Ponzi scheme’. Madoff conned everyone from the jet-set to Jewish charities, promising modest returns as he pocketed their cash without investing it. Yet despite the awfulness of Madoff’s fraud, and indeed the tragic fate of Bill Foxton, you were left feeling little empathy for many of the victims featured as they bemoaned the loss of their material possessions and personal fortunes.

There were some exceptions, of course, such as the 90-year-old forced to take a part-time job and the widow comforted by Madoff as he took her for every cent she had. Delving further into these stories would have conveyed the real human cost of Madoff’s actions far more effectively than the excessive talk of hurried diamond auctions by millionaires looking to recoup their cash. And why was the fact regulators had dismissed an earlier report of the scam glossed over so quickly? Surely worth probing. As it was, the entertaining Hustle-style graphics and skin-deep interviews seemed if anything to trivialise the con, and by the end we were left no nearer to understanding what did actually make Madoff tick. Read review on TV Scoop

MacKenzie flitted between overt admiration for the skills of Star editor TP O’Connor, at one point even likening the man’s “genius” to his own, to classic Sun outrage at his fabrication of facts. Fuelling this outrage was the assertion that O’Connor was not only responsible for deliberately whipping up hysteria over the Ripper murders, but that he was also behind one of his minions faking the letter that coined the name Jack the Ripper. From this we are invited to conclude that O’Connor might as well have done the dirty deeds himself.

The over-reliance on conjecture and tendency to lapse into massaging MacKenzie’s ego detracted from what was prime documentary material. Was it really necessary to demonstrate how much better a MacKenzie-designed front page covering the Ripper murders would have been? And what did we actually learn from the forensic pathologist as he scribbled over the body of a life model (surely Resusci Anne could have been drafted in instead)? Of course, I’m missing the point: this is former Sun editor Kelvin MacKenzie in a documentary on Five. What am I thinking…

Ultimately, Jack the Ripper: Tabloid Killer was a living, breathing illustration of the sensationalist coverage it was at once condemning and heralding. Perhaps MacKenzie should try appraising some of his own multi-million selling front pages (frequently referred to) from the vantage point of his newly found moral high ground. Read review on TV Scoop

Stars: Dr Alice Roberts
Certification: UK PG; £19.99
Extras: None. Read review on Screenjabber.com

Stars: Martin Clunes, Fay Ripley, Neil Stuke, Lucy Liemann, Geoffrey Whitehead, Wendy Craig
Certification: UK 15; £19.99
Extras: Reggie Perrin Rises Again, Studio Tour, Outtakes, Audience Warm Up, Audio Commentaries. Read review on Screenjabber.com

Cameron (Kevin Whately) has left his wife Anne (Lesley Sharp) with a drink problem and a troublesome 14-year-old son by way of goodbye, favouring instead the lustful delights of the altogether more cultured Sue (Geraldine Somerville). Still smarting from the betrayal of her own husband, who has run off with ‘Pneumatic Tits’ and proceeded to bring another unsuspecting child into the world, Sue does her best to ‘get to know’ Cameron’s son, Jack. It’s no easy task, and a penchant for internet porn and vodka-fuelled early-morning bike rides soon see Jack moving back in with his dad. But as Sue’s spoilt daughter Emily fails to accept her new half-brother, a dark turn of events sees Adam’s life – and those of the three families involved – spiral out of control.

The action is punctuated by flash-forwards to Emily’s murder in the garden, and the resulting fractured feel is an effective metaphor for the children’s plight as victims of the pass-the-parcel politics of parents blind to their responsibilities. If all that sounds a little bleak, it is – but surprisingly compelling nonetheless.

Stars: Kevin Whately, Lesley Sharp, Geraldine Somerville, Ian Puleston-Davies
Certification: UK 15; £19.99
Extras: None. Read review on Screenjabber.com

Rewind and we discover that Bryan has taken early retirement from his job clearing up the world’s bad guys to move closer to his daughter Kim (Maggie Grace – proving there is life after Lost) and estranged wife (Famke Janssen). But after being conned by the sickly sweet Kim into letting her go to Paris “for the museums”, Bryan’s fight against crime soon becomes personal as Kim witnesses her friend being dragged screaming from their apartment.

Luckily, Bryan’s CIA nose is already sniffing, and he manages to phone Kim just as the kidnap is taking place. Transformed instantly from over-protective father into cool-headed special agent, he calmly talks Kim through her own inevitable abduction before setting off on the obligatory race against the clock to find her.
At just 93 minutes, Taken is a refreshingly short movie that doesn’t fall into the trap of spinning things out unnecessarily. Writer Luc Besson once again teams up with Pierre Morel, and anyone who’s seen their 2004 film District B13 will know to expect an adrenaline-fuelled adventure with plenty of fist-flinging and chase scenes.

Liam Neeson proves he’s still got it, even at 56, smashing countless heads between car doors in his mission to find his daughter; in fact, Taken could do with lessening the body count, as towards the end of the movie the ease with which Neeson is bumping off villains is getting ridiculous. And while the film has the feel of Eastern Promises, the undeniably Hollywood dialogue takes away from its gritty drug scenes and gratuitous violence to puncture the bubble of suspended reality. It’s a shame, as Neeson’s adept performance deserves better than to be sullied with such lapses into cliché.

You get the feeling that had Taken been a British film it would have conveyed the darkness of the theme a bit better. The fact the movie succeeds in gripping your attention despite its obvious Hollywood trappings only goes to make its minor flaws more frustrating. That said, it’s still worth ignoring the credit crunch and taking a trip to the cinema for – especially if you’re after a bit of action to fill the void before Bond.

Stars Liam Neeson, Maggie Grace, Famke Janssen, Xander Berkeley, Katie Cassidy, Olivier Rabourdin, Leland Orser, Jon Gries, Holly Valance
Directed by Pierre Morel
Certification UK 15 | US PG-13. Read review on Screenjabber.com