Baz Luhrmann’s Red Curtain Trilogy (Fox, PG-13) It's a rare boxed set that's united not just by a franchise or even a filmmaker, but by a potent and consistent mood. That's the case with Luhrmann's self-styled trilogy -- ''Strictly Ballroom,'' ''Romeo + Juliet,'' and ''Moulin Rouge'' -- where every moment, every morsel is as lushly grandiloquent as the man himself. Combined, these films pay homage to Luhrmann's ruling passions: artifice, overorchestrated bombast, and joyous gigantism. (''Love,'' in Bazworld, seems to occur at the intersection of these tangents.) And in case you're missing the point, the set includes a babel of commentaries, plus a guided tour of Luhrmann's tinseled history (''Behind the Red Curtain'') that seems to pride itself on making viewers feel like guests of honor at the world's most aesthetically self-conscious bordello.

Cameron Crowe on DVD: Say Anything: Special Edition (Fox, PG-13) Jerry Maguire: Special Edition (Columbia TriStar, R) Almost Famous: Untitled -- The Bootleg Cut (DreamWorks, R) While the lives of Crowe's emotionally articulate leading men -- nice guys who finish first, win the girl, and travel with the band -- often seem as charmed as they are charming, they also feel earned. So do these special-edition discs: How else could Crowe get away with booking his own mother to comment on the highly autobiographical ''Almost'' (a December 2001 release)? What might have been a self-indulgent misfire proves a meta masterstroke, precisely because we care enough about story and subject to want more context. Meanwhile, the ''MST3K''-ish video commentary on ''Maguire'' answers the age-old question ''Who will watch the stars watch themselves?'' Answer: anyone who wants to see a superstar (Tom Cruise), a rising star (Renée Zellweger), and a star-in-transition (Cuba Gooding Jr.) engage in an understated power ballet. Finally, what more can we say about ''Say Anything,'' the sensitive flip side of the Nirvana generation? Nothing that its deluxe disc can't say better with commentary from Crowe, John Cusack, and Ione Skye.

Beckett on Film (Ambrose, unrated) Purists may quibble with the enterprise of committing canonized playwright Samuel Beckett's works to disc. But completists will salivate over the Gate Theatre of Dublin's mammoth trove, which includes all of Beckett's elliptical masterworks -- from the familiar ''Waiting for Godot'' to the 45-second ''Breath'' -- brought to life by filmmakers (Neil Jordan, Atom Egoyan, Anthony Minghella) and actors (Jeremy Irons, Alan Rickman, Julianne Moore) of unimpeachable skill. Repeated viewings are recommended -- though to guard against exploding-head syndrome, they should be interspersed with episodes of ''The Bachelor.''

The Producers (MGM, unrated) Who'd have thought Nazis and Broadway would make such a lovely match? Probably the entire Nazi party, truth be told, but it took Mel Brooks, Zero Mostel, and Gene Wilder to make it sing -- and make it funny. And what makes all of this especially nice -- from a DVD aficionado's perspective -- is the anecdote-soaked, hour-long documentary that accompanies this shiny new print of the film. Only the tellers can separate the tales from the truths, but if you've got living, breathing, interviewable stars and filmmakers on hand (Brooks and Wilder among them), flaunt them, baby, flaunt them!

The Last Waltz (MGM, PG) Can't Stop the Music (Anchor Bay, PG) The soul of the music business (if such a thing can be said to exist) hangs somewhere in the limbo between these two radically different discs. ''Waltz'': a grand, venerating Martin Scorsese documentary, capturing The Band's landmark 1976 farewell concert (with performances by Neil Young and Bob Dylan, among others) along with a sense of raw artistry and the bond between troubadours. ''Can't'': a flamboyantly inept, transparently synthetic vehicle for the Village People that became a camp classic even before the director called cut. We'll say no more: They're here for you to ridicule and/or revere, as you see fit.

Paragraph 175 (New Yorker, unrated) Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman (''The Celluloid Closet'') take their continuing documentary interrogation of homophobic Western civilization to the heart of darkness: Hitler's final solution for the gay men and women of Europe. Honored at Sundance for direction, ''Paragraph'' makes fast-yellowing history devastatingly personal, as five aging survivors draw their breath in pain to tell tales of imprisonment, torture, and ruthlessly efficient, color-coded persecution. (Pink triangles -- now a pride symbol -- were the Nazi designation for homosexuals.) From the factual asides (lesbians were often spared the Reich's wrath because of their reproductive potential) to the emotional stories of victims from all walks of life, ''Paragraph'' is terrifying, transfixing, and true, an ought-to-see that also happens to be a must-see.