Criterion Collection DVDs: Five Essential Picks

Why you should trust this guide

I built this list by digging into Criterion’s published disc specifications, the supplement lists printed on each release, and the broad critical record around these five films. I am not reviewing the movies themselves here, since their reputations are settled. What I am weighing is the value of each specific DVD edition: the transfer quality, the depth of the extras, the booklet material, and whether the package justifies owning a physical disc in 2026. Where a release shows its age, I say so plainly rather than treating every Criterion spine number as automatically essential.

These are all older standard-definition DVD editions, and that matters. Several of these films have since received Blu-ray or 4K upgrades from Criterion or other labels, so a DVD purchase is a deliberate trade-off (lower resolution, lower price, easier playback on legacy hardware). I have tried to be honest about that throughout. My goal is to help you decide which of these five discs is worth your shelf space and which you might prefer to seek out in a newer format.

How we researched

My evaluation leaned on three criteria. First, the source and transfer: I looked at how each disc was mastered, whether the aspect ratio matches the director’s intent, and whether the image preserves the original photography rather than scrubbing away grain or boosting contrast. Second, the supplements: documentaries, interviews, short films, and printed essays are a large part of why Criterion editions command loyalty, so I weighed how substantial and how relevant those extras are to understanding the film. Third, the practical package: region coding, subtitle options, and the condition you are likely to receive, since several of these circulate mainly as used copies.

I did not measure anything on a bench or run these through hardware analysis. I am treating the stated specifications (region codes, subtitle tracks, screen format) as the manufacturer’s listed details, and the supplement lists as published. Where a listing offers little beyond “Used Book in Good Condition,” I flag that the buyer should expect a secondhand disc and check the seller’s condition notes before purchasing. The rankings reflect a balance of film stature, edition quality, and how well each disc still holds up against newer releases.

The 400 Blows – François Truffaut

This is the disc to start with if you want the origin story of the French New Wave in your hands. Truffaut’s 1959 debut is the founding text of that movement, and Criterion’s DVD edition has long been treated as a landmark release in its own right. The transfer is clean and grain-accurate, which is the right call here, because it preserves Henri Decae’s naturalistic black-and-white photography rather than flattening it into something glossier than Truffaut ever intended.

The supplements are where this two-disc set earns its reputation. You get a full-length interview with Truffaut, excerpts from the Antoine Doinel sequels that followed this film, and an essay by film critic Philip Lopate in the accompanying booklet, along with production photographs. For a viewer new to Truffaut, the Doinel excerpts in particular give useful context for how this single film grew into a decades-long autobiographical cycle. The booklet adds genuine reading value rather than serving as filler.

The honest limitation is twofold. This is a standard-definition DVD, so a grain-accurate transfer at this resolution will still look soft next to the high-definition restorations now available. And the Amazon listing here is flagged only as “Used Book in Good Condition,” which means you are buying a secondhand copy. I would check the seller’s condition notes carefully, since disc and case wear vary widely on used Criterion titles.

Breathless – Jean-Luc Godard

If The 400 Blows is the movement’s founding text, Breathless is its jolt of adrenaline. Godard’s 1960 feature practically invented modern action cinema with its jump cuts and handheld urgency, and Criterion’s DVD presents it in the correct 1.33:1 aspect ratio with a transfer overseen by cinematographer Raoul Coutard. Having the original director of photography sign off on the look is reassuring, and the framing choice matters, since a cropped widescreen version would distort how Godard composed his Paris streets.

The extras are exceptional and are the main reason to choose this edition. There is a feature-length documentary on the making of the film, interviews with Jean-Paul Belmondo and Jean Seberg, and additional supplementary material that frames the film’s place in cinema history. For a movie this influential, having the two leads on record discussing the shoot is a real draw, and the documentary does the work of explaining why those jump cuts felt so radical at the time.

The trade-offs mirror the previous disc. It is standard definition, so the picture will not match a modern restoration, and the listing is again marked “Used Book in Good Condition,” so expect a pre-owned copy of variable cosmetic quality. I would also note that Breathless is a film that divides viewers, since its loose, improvisational structure can frustrate anyone expecting a conventional plot. This edition will not change that, it simply presents the film and its context as fully as a DVD can.

Tokyo Story – Yasujiro Ozu

This is my overall pick. Ozu’s 1953 film is consistently voted one of the greatest ever made, and Criterion’s meticulous DVD gives it an ideal home. The restoration captures the warmth of Yuharu Atsuta’s cinematography and the precise staging of Ozu’s famously low, tatami-level camera. That low angle is the whole point of how Ozu sees domestic life, and a careful transfer that respects it does more for the film than any amount of cosmetic sharpening would.

The supplements suit the film’s contemplative nature. The disc includes a feature documentary on Ozu’s life and method, and a new essay by critic David Bordwell, the leading English-language authority on Ozu’s work. Bordwell’s writing alone is worth the inclusion, because it gives a clear framework for understanding why Ozu’s restraint, his static cameras and his quiet domestic scenes, produces such an emotional payoff. For a newcomer, that context turns a slow-seeming film into something far more legible.

The honest caveat is that Tokyo Story asks for patience. Its pacing is deliberate, its drama understated, and viewers raised on faster films may find the first act uneventful. On the technical side, this is again a standard-definition release, so anyone who wants the sharpest possible image should know that newer high-definition restorations of Tokyo Story exist. As a DVD, though, this edition is hard to fault on care or supplement quality.

Mon Oncle – Jacques Tati

This is the pick for color and comedy. Tati’s 1958 film is his gentlest satire of modernist conformity, and Criterion’s DVD captures every shade of its hand-tinted Eastmancolor palette. The color is genuinely part of the joke here, since Tati contrasts the warm, cluttered old quarter against the sterile pastels of the ultra-modern Arpel house, and a transfer that holds those tints is doing real work for the comedy.

The set is generous for fans who want the full Tati picture. It includes a documentary on Tati’s complete filmography, a selection of his earlier short films, and a booklet featuring production photographs from the set of M. Hulot’s peculiarly shaped house. Those short films are a nice bonus, because Tati made relatively few features, so the shorts fill in how his visual comedy developed. The production photos of that strange house add to the appeal for anyone who loves the film’s set design.

The trade-offs are worth stating. Tati’s humor is built on long takes, ambient sound, and visual gags rather than dialogue, so it is an acquired taste, and viewers expecting a fast joke rate may find it leisurely. The release also carries no detailed Amazon feature listing beyond the title, so I cannot confirm region coding or subtitle options from the product page alone, and I would verify those details with the seller before buying. And, as with the others, this is a standard-definition disc.

Bicycle Thieves – Vittorio De Sica

This is the emotional gut-punch of the group. De Sica’s 1948 film is the masterpiece of Italian neorealism and one of the most affecting films ever made, and Criterion’s DVD presents it from a transfer taken from the original 35mm negative. Sourcing from the original negative is the best starting point a transfer can have, and it shows in the depth and texture of the postwar Rome streets the film moves through.

The supplements trace the film’s reach. They include an interview with actor Lamberto Maggiorani, who was famously a nonprofessional cast for the lead, and an essay by critic Godfrey Cheshire tracing the film’s influence on world cinema, along with period material. The Maggiorani interview is a highlight, because the casting of an ordinary worker in the central role is central to neorealism’s whole approach, and hearing from him grounds that. This edition also lists concrete specifications: Format DVD, Language Italian and English, Subtitle English, Korean, or None (all removable), Region Code Region 0 covering regions 1 through 6, and Screen NTSC full-screen black and white.

Region 0 is a practical plus, since it should play on most machines regardless of territory, and the removable subtitles are a thoughtful touch. The limitations are that the film is emotionally heavy and ends on a note many viewers find genuinely upsetting, so it is not casual viewing. And the NTSC standard-definition presentation, while honest to the source, will look soft compared with a restored high-definition release, which is the price of choosing the DVD edition.

What to look for

Before buying any of these editions, weigh the factors below against what you actually want from the disc.

• Transfer source: Editions struck from an original negative or overseen by the cinematographer generally look truest to the film’s intent.
• Aspect ratio: Confirm the disc preserves the director’s framing (for example, 1.33:1 for Breathless) rather than cropping it.
• Resolution: These are standard-definition DVDs, so check whether a newer Blu-ray or 4K version exists if image sharpness is your priority.
• Supplements: Documentaries, interviews, short films, and printed essays are much of the value, so compare what each set actually includes.
• Region coding: Region 0 discs (like Bicycle Thieves) play widely, while region-locked discs may not work on your player.
• Subtitles: Verify the languages offered and whether they are removable, especially for the non-English titles.
• Condition: Several of these sell mainly as used copies, so read the seller’s condition notes before committing.

The verdict

For most buyers, Tokyo Story is the disc I would reach for first. It pairs a near-universal critical reputation with a careful restoration and a David Bordwell essay that makes the film approachable, and the only real cost is its patience-demanding pace. If you want the historical starting point of modern art cinema, The 400 Blows has the deepest supplements of the group and is the natural entry into the French New Wave, while Breathless is the more electric, divisive companion to it.

Choose Mon Oncle if you want color, comedy, and Tati’s gentle satire, accepting that its leisurely visual humor is an acquired taste and that the product listing leaves some specs unconfirmed. Choose Bicycle Thieves if you want the most emotionally devastating film here, with the bonus of a Region 0 disc and clearly listed subtitle options, as long as you are ready for how heavily it lands. Every one of these is a standard-definition release, so factor in whether a newer high-definition edition would serve you better before you buy.