19) North by Northwest
Alfred Hitchcock was not only the “master of suspense,” but also a master of creating iconic images that hang in the collective consciousness, whether you’ve seen the film the images originated from or not. That said, if you haven’t yet seen Cary Grant’s charming innocent being crop-dusted in Illinois before experiencing a presidential cliffhanger far more suspenseful (and certainly more entertaining) than the 2004 election, get off your Hitchcock-size ass and watch it. Then take in the making-of documentary hosted by Eva Marie Saint, or listen to screenwriter Ernest Lehman’s somewhat slight commentary before settling in to view the trailer and the TV and stills galleries, saving the best for last: Bernard Herrmann’s thrilling, isolated music track.

18) The Third Man — The Criterion Collection
With all the “greatest this” and “greatest that,” you can’t go wrong with Orson Welles or Joseph Cotton in Carol Reed’s landmark noir. A gorgeous print highlights the package (an informative featurette demonstrates the restoration), and select radio programs (including The Lives of Harry Lime, written and performed by Welles, and the Lux Radio Theater adaptation of The Third Man) brighten up the shadows. Really, though, it’s the archival footage of composer Anton Karas playing the unforgettable theme song on his zither that I skip straight to every time.

17) The Abyss — Special Edition
The first of James Cameron’s films to utilize a then-new digital technique called “morphing” received a less than stellar response when it crashed into theaters amid a tidal wave of hype back in 1989. But then he didn’t actually complete his waterlogged screed against nuclear proliferation until it hit home video a few years later. Was it worth it? Sure: otherwise we’d never have gotten Under Pressure, the 1992 production documentary detailing the underwater hell from which cast members like Ed Harris may never fully decompress.

16) Rear Window — Collector’s Edition
What is cinema, other than the ultimate refuge for people and their voyeuristic tendencies? Alfred Hitchcock took this theme and created one of his greatest, most beloved films, starring Jimmy Stewart (the old Tom Hanks). The usual assortment of trailers, promotional materials, and stills gallery complements two documentaries. The best is the hourlong Rear Window Ethics: Remembering and Restoring a Hitchcock Classic, by Laurent Bouzereau, a documentary filmmaker with a voyeuristic interest in Hitchcock films.

15) Tokyo Story — The Criterion Collection
Ozu Yasujiro’s poignant masterpiece of quietly lyrical familial disappointment — a film frequently cited as one of cinema’s finest — is given the double-disc Criterion treatment it deserves. A new digital transfer with fairly clean sound looks good, and there’s an audio commentary by Ozu scholar David Desser, as well as an essay by author David Boardwell. A 40-minute tribute featuring reflections from directors Stanley Kwan, Aki Kaurismäki, Claire Denis, Lindsay Anderson, Paul Schrader, Wim Wenders, and Hou Hsiao-hsien is nice, but it’s the two-hour 1983 documentary I Lived, But ... that proves indispensable. Containing recollections from frequent collaborators and clips from many of Ozu’s films, it’s a well-rounded look at his long career and a loving tribute to my favorite filmmaker.

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14) The Godfather DVD Collection
The only thing wrong with this set is the inclusion of Part III. Okay, that’s a cheap shot — but I haven’t revisited Part III since Francis (and Sofia) Coppola crushed my moviegoing spirit at the old Sack Cheri back in December of 1990. Unless Coppola is seen apologizing on the commentary track, I doubt I ever will. Regardless, it’s hard to discount his hugely insightful audio commentary on the first two Mafia masterpieces. A feature-length documentary, 34 deleted scenes, and an Easter Egg featuring the Sopranos cast all add up to an offer you . . . know the rest.

13) Se7en — New Line Platinum Series
One of the first DVDs to receive a Special Edition makeover, the 2000 re-release of David Fincher’s genre-defining favorite provided a rare opportunity for Fincher and colorist Stephen Nakamura to not only re-master the colors, but also reframe portions of the screen. Now, the Millennium Falcon enters from screen left, instead of screen right — wait, wrong movie. In addition to visual changes and additions, the disc offers four commentary tracks, a pair of alternate endings, and se7en deleted scenes and extended takes. Finally, in one of the few good uses of a feature that no one knows how to take advantage of, there’s a multi-angle “exploration” of Kyle Cooper’s much-imitated opening credits. But what’s in the box?