Untraceable: Diane Lane’s computer tries to kill her.

Mad Money: Queen Latifah and Diane Keaton use makeup endorsements and sass to break Katie Holmes out of Tom Cruise’s mansion, and they all throw money in the air until he shows up with the flashy memory-eraser thing from Men in Black.

Also on DVD this week: Cover and Youth Without Youth.

Right off the bat, learned customers will find that each film has been released individually on DVD for the first time. Indeed, previous releases were only available in box set form, which explains the “First Time Available” sticker on the slipcases. Other than that, the new discs still sport the same 5.1 sound and 16×9 picture that were found on the old widescreen set (2003’s sets were made available in both widescreen and pan-and-scan formats), so technically, they seem to be untouched, even if some avid home videophiles are claiming a slight improvement in the image area.

The differences come in the extras department, with each disc containing newly made special features to whet the customer’s chops. At first glance, the separate sections seem like throwaway fluff, but once ingested, are easily on par with the previous making-ofs on discs gone by. That said, they all seem a tad short – especially in comparison to the lengthy documentaries of old. More than anything, this is the place that will drive consumers mad, which is what Steven Spielberg and George Lucas appear to want.

The two creators can be found in brand new introductions of the three films, amounting to small, yet tasty featurettes that deliver never-before-seen footage of them on set as well as recently uncovered artwork from the vaults. Considering Spielberg’s aversion to commentaries, these types of interviews are just about the best way for audiences to get into the mind of one-half of the bearded duo. In addition, there are also in-depth photo galleries and other features centering on such series highlights as the creepy crawlies of the Jones world, the women of the series, and specific looks at other facets of the productions – all created with top notch care, even if – again – they’re all a bit fleeting in nature.

Not surprisingly, the biggest gripe comes hand-in-hand with the timing of these releases, thanks to the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull hype that seems built into many of the featurettes – a decision that’ll not only date the discs, but render the features unusable in future editions down the line. And there will be more editions, that’s for sure. Hopefully a more complete set will await hungry patrons in the future – especially those with higher-end systems (a Blu-ray release is still nowhere to be seen).

In the end, these Special Editions are a perfectly fine addition to a household without the old box set release. Those who already own the series, though, will have to search their wallets if they feel the need to dive into this not-so-worth-it retread. If there’s one thing that viewers will walk away from, it’s that the behind-the-scenes stories of these productions are far from over — giving hope that more definitive editions are still possible somewhere down the line.

P.S., I Love You: Tearjerking chick flick where Hilary Swank’s husband dies of a brain tumor, then gives her a life-makeover from beyond the grave.

Over Her Dead Body: Light hearted romcom about a bride who gets impaled by an ice sculpture on her wedding day, and then haunts her fiance’s new girlfriend.

Hottie and the Nottie: Movie starring a woman who makes people want to kill themselves.

Teeth: Two words: Killer Vagina.

Also on DVD this week: Bella, the Business of Being Born, First Sunday, I’m Not There, and Steel City.

Presented in 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen, the film has never looked as good on home video as it does here: The suburban shrubs burst with Tru-Green color, the blood flows a vivid deep red, and Beverly Sutphin’s linens look so Bounty fresh you can almost smell the fabric softener. The Dolby Digital 5.1 audio track is so crisp the viewer can hear the birds happily chirping outside the Sutphin’s windows, and Barry Manilow’s Daybreak blasts with crystal clear, cheery irony.

But a pristine presentation of the film itself is only the beginning, because in addition to including the director’s commentary track originally recorded for the 2004 DVD release of Serial Mom, this disc also includes an abundance of fantastic bonus materials. A newly recorded commentary track finds Waters watching the film alongside star Kathleen Turner, and it’s truly fascinating to hear Hollywood legend Turner’s take on working with the so-called “Prince of Puke.” She may not be the most talkative actress ever to appear on a commentary track, but it’s obvious that she had fun working on the film and she shares some great stories about the production. It’s especially fun to hear Waters and Turner talking about working with Sam Waterston, who reluctantly went crowd surfing for a climatic scene at a punk concert and at one point worried that he was endorsing deviant behavior by appearing in the film. First up on the featurette list is “Serial Mom: Surreal Moments.” A nearly thirty-minute documentary on the making of Serial Mom, “Surreal Moments” finds all the Waters regulars discussing the production of the film along with a few unique surprises: It’s pretty amazing to hear Patricia Hearst recalling her original meeting with Waters, Donita Sparks from L7 discusses her uncomfortable costume, and Film Critic Dennis Dermody reveals an interesting piece of trivia about Beverly Sutphin’s serial killer scrapbook. Additional interviews find Ricki Lake discusses the chaos of shooting Serial Mom and launching her hit talk show at the same time, and Matthew Lillard joyfully recalling his very first film appearance. Fans of Serial Mom know that the film Blood Feast plays a pivotal role in the plot, and in “The Kings of Gore: Herschell Gordon Lewis and David Friedman” viewers are treated to a ten-minute history lesson in screen slaughter. “The Making of Serial Mom” is a six-minute original promotional featurette, and somewhat chillingly highlights how Serial Mom anticipated the cult of celebrity surrounding serial killers. An original theatrical trailer is also included.

Diving Bell and the Butterfly: Find your direct neural interface, use it to call your favorite quadriplegic, and settle in for the night.

The Golden Compass: Fire up your atheistic commentary on the societal pressures against discovering one’s true identity, mount your armor plated polar bear, and cuddle up on the couch.

How She Move: Arbitrarily disregard your English syntax, talk like a lolcat, and bust a move.

Also on DVD this week: King Corn, Nanking, and Moondance Alexander.

But while it may be up for debate whether Synapse or Dark Sky has released the definitive version of the film itself, it’s the bonus features on this two disc edition that make it a must have for any fan of the film. Blasting out of the barrel with a hard rocking, blood spattered rock and roll intro, the featurette “Deadbeat at Dawn: Half-Desperate, Half-Crazy, and Totally Dangerous” opens with an laid-back VanBebber discussing his influences and film background in great detail. After revealing the details about his first film - the unfinished 8mm masterpiece “Return of the Werewolf” – VanBebber moves on to talk about his love for animation and gets into great detail about the production of “Deadbeat at Dawn.” It’s an informative featurette with some great behind the scenes footage, and it’s amusing to watch the dancing beer bottles on the table behind VanBebber throughout the course of the interview. Three minutes of silent outtakes are goofy, gory fun, and a “Behind the Scenes” segment originally produced on VHS in 1986 and 1987 finds the filmmakers working on fight choreography, guzzling Milwaukee’s Best, and discussing shots. An additional image gallery is nicely presented, but the crowning jewel of this disc has to the inclusion of VanBebber’s shorts “My Sweet Satan,” “Roadkill: The Last Days of John Martin,” “Doper,” “Kata,” and “Into the Black.” While “My Sweet Satan” was originally included on Synapse Film’s DVD release of “Deadbeat at Dawn,” this is the first time the four other films have been released to DVD and it’s great to see them included here as they truly allow the viewer to witness VanBebber’s growth as a filmmaker. “My Sweet Satan,” “Roadkill,” and “Into the Black” in particular offer a gruesome preview of things to come in “Deadbeat at Dawn” and “The Manson Family,” while “Kata” highlight’s VanBebber’s ongoing fascination with martial arts and “Doper” offers a rare glimpse into the his capabilities as a documentary filmmaker.

The version of “The Manson Family” included in this set is the same two-disc edition that was originally released by Dark Sky in April of 2005. In addition to offering a breathtaking transfer of the film itself, it also includes a variety of informative and entertaining special features including the documentaries “The VanBebber Family” and “In the Belly of the Beast,” an interview with Charles Manson, theatrical trailers, and a still gallery.

One Missed Call: J-Horror remake in which you get a phone call from your future, dying self. Then you die. Spoiler: Ed Burns‘ career got this call before cell phones were even invented.

Charlie Wilson’s War: Movie about senator Charlie Wilson’s crusade in the 1980’s to fund the Mujahideen’s war against the Soviet government in Afghanistan. Spoiler: Things in Afghanistan are still pretty bad.

What Would Jesus Buy: Documentary about marketing and commercialization in American culture. Spoiler: It turns out what Jesus would buy is this.

Also on DVD this week: the Savages, the Orphanage, Hannah Takes the Stairs, Nina’s Heavenly Delights, Romulus, My Father, Starting Out in the Evening, Trailer Park Boys: The Movie, and the Walker.

As the narrative unfurls, bizarre events transpire, many of which revolve around the past disappearance of a pack of children from the town - the “wanderers” of the title - allegedly lured away from the community by a mysterious force said to hold the town under a “curse.” Just before this Hamelin-like event, the children each dreamt of a creature from Arabic mythology – a centaur-type character with the torso and countenance of a lusty young woman, which apparently summoned them into decades of wandering aimlessly, and which appears in the picture, from time to time, as a static illustration on a wall tapestry. Khemir also tosses in such occurrences as an empty ship (owned by Sinbad the Sailor) that “washes up” in the middle of the desert, rumors of a buried treasure in the desert that prompted one poor fellow to spend 50 years of his life digging through the sand in vain; and a spirit that emerges from a well to communicate with an odd little boy whose head is shaven into a mullet.

Khemir’s most overwhelming mistake lies in plunging his audience into a realm with which most non-Arabic viewers are completely ignorant. One senses that a very definite logical fabric may lie buried beneath the meager excuse for a narrative; sorting out the meanings is another matter altogether, and close to impossible at that. The writer-director obviously wanted to create a “mysterious” and “mystical” ambience by staying two steps ahead of the audience in terms of comprehension, and that’s fine, but he errs to the other extreme by venturing into the completely unintelligible. Khemir fails to define even the basics of the world handed to us – the cornerstone of solid storytelling. Even twenty, thirty, forty minutes in, we have only the faintest semblance of what is happening and who everyone is. Some films - Boorman’s flawed Zardoz comes immediately to mind - begin in this manner and then gradually, and ingeniously, hand the audience the pieces necessary to complete the puzzle; in the case of Wanderers, we feel as baffled at the conclusion of the story as we did at the outset. The writer-director fills his narrative with odd plot points, such as the desire of the said little boy to collect and break every mirror in the town to cause a garden to blossom (???), and the ghostly appearances of a wizened old woman in a black turban who eventually lures the schoolteacher into oblivion. Presumably these events have some sort of allegorical or symbolic denotation within the context of Middle Eastern lore, but if so, it flew well outside of my radar, and anyone without a doctorate in Arabic studies will likely feel the same. (Perhaps they could have asked Salman Rushdie to do an explanatory voiceover on the DVD).

On an equally dispiriting note, one senses that Khemir is aggressively striving for a “mythological” ambience, and one can palpably feel the instances in which he misses the mark; the dishwater dull emergence of the spirit from the well comes immediately to mind (we merely see human hands emerging from over the top of the stone rim and a rather average-looking man climb out) as does the director’s decision to never actually picture the animate female centaur onscreen. It would not even be necessary for Khemir to include mythical creatures here to accomplish the ambience he is seeking (Fellini Satyricon comes to mind as a film that established the feeling without resorting to non-human characters), but he at least needs a series of striking, quasi-apocalyptic visuals. (The two that came to mind for me were the top of the spirit’s face emerging from the surface of the well water, and a giant inanimate head attached to the prow of the ship). Regardless, Khemir completely misses the mark. Given how remarkably banal, and excruciatingly boring, and un-fantastic, the characters and situations are, one might as well be watching a Middle Eastern remake of Chantal Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles.

According to internet reports, the director created two follow-ups to this film, also issued on video by Typecast in late March of this year. Don’t bother.

The story, involving an expectant mother who has decided to spend Christmas Eve alone before having labor induced the following morning, effectively taps into a multitude of universal fears as it follows her struggle against a mysterious assailant who appears at her window determined to extract her unborn child. After setting the story up with a jarring intro that isn’t quite as simple as it first seems, screenwriter/co-director (along with Maury) Bustillo smartly pulls back to let the tension build, briefly lulling the viewer into a false sense of complacency before unleashing a primal barrage of soul-scarring ferocity – every excruciating beat perfectly complimented by the hazy cinematography of Laurent Bares and the masterful editing of frequent Aja collaborator Baxter. Ultimately, the key to the film’s success rests largely on Bustillo’s smart, finely tuned screenplay, which pulls out all the stops to frazzle the nerves and assault the senses. With one clichéd exception involving a darkened house and a breaker box, Bustillo’s characters react to their dilemma in the exact way the viewer expects that they might – a true rarity in a genre that all-too-often falls back on flawed logic in order to keep the story moving forward. Match this with a deeply unsettling score that drifts from Tangerine Dream-style droning to knitting-needle-in-the-ear stings in the flash of a blade, and you’ve got the recipe for the essential “horror-thriller.”

Of course all of this can easily amount to naught if the villain of the piece isn’t as colorful and clearly-defined as the protagonist, and Beatrice Dalle’s scissor-wielding psychopath offers the perfect counter-balance to star Alysson Paradis’ dead-on-the-inside heroine – the tragic motivations of the former only come into play late in the final act, skillfully inverting the meaning of a crucial early scene. With her flowing black dress and ridiculously oversized scissors, Dalle’s cigarette smoking, cat-crushing angel of death bears all the hallmarks of an iconic screen villain, and chances are good that she’ll be stalking the nightmares of more sensitive viewers for some time to come. In the end, Inside packs a punch that’s not only powerful enough to shake women who shiver at headlines about unborn babies being ripped from the womb by maniacal strangers, but virtually any viewer – male or female – who’s willing to have their mettle tested by a pair of first-time filmmakers who have yet to be softened by age — and who boldly defy the widely-held theory that gore and tension are mutually exclusive.