He saw them come and he saw them go. He was there as Mick, Keith and Bill sauntered down London's Baker Street in 1963, unnoticed and unmolested – the year before the Stones would break it big. He was there to capture a 16-year-old Lesley Hornby, just as the newly minted "Face of '66" was reinventing herself as Twiggy.

The Pacific island hoped the sale of its '.tv' suffix to websites would boost its troubled economy. Now it says it is being deprived of millions in royalties

Inglourious Basterds ticks all the boxes for a film by Quentin Tarantino. Visceral violence, an inspired soundtrack, genre bent all out of shape, reams of crackling dialogue and a veritable love letter to Sergio Leone, The Dirty Dozen and the films of pre-war Germany? Check. But an award-winning performance? Now that's unusual. Samuel L Jackson as the Bible-spouting hitman in Pulp Fiction, and Robert Forster as the ageing bail bondsman in Jackie Brown, both received Best Supporting Actor nominations at the Oscars. But in general, Tarantino films don't receive their plaudits for their performances.

Cinema admissions are booming all over Europe, in the best year for decades. And locally made films are gaining some of the benefits.

Dive from the 10-metre tower, by Leni Riefenstahl. Taken from Olympia (Quartet, pounds 35) a remarkable anthology of photographs from the 1936 Olympic games. Riefenstahl's amazing access to the sporting events, obtained through her notorious association with Hitler, allowed her to capture athletes in a way that has hardly been possible before or since.

A VIDEO company has lodged an appeal against the British Board of Film Classification's refusal to classify one of its titles, writes Helen Hague.

YOU CLAIM that the proven power of words and images gives cause for concern as regards the social impact of violent videos ('The violence that begets violence', 3 April).

BONN - The debate in Germany about protectionism for the European film industry is muted, but some are passionate about it.

Showbiz biographies don't come much heftier than this: 600-odd pages including an excellent filmography. The book strives to get behind the legend and to answer questions (Where was she born? What exactly was her relationship with her mysterious mentor Josef von Sternberg? Why did she never divorce the husband she hardly ever saw?) on which Dietrich herself was permanently cagey. There is a deliciously overstuffed prose style, and other pleasures include inconsequential insights into the star's personal habits, such as her preference for economy-size jars of Boots' cold cream.

FRED Astaire is dancing, casting a very big shadow against a white wall behind him. He stops, the shadow stops. He starts again, the shadow starts again. Then all of a sudden he stops and the shadow starts to dance on without him. At the end I think he catches up with it and it follows him again. He must have pre-recorded the shadow and projected it against the wall, dancing with the utmost precision to match it. Normally this kind of trick is done by technology - back projection or double exposure - and once it has been deciphered it loses its magic. But here it's all accomplished through the human precision of Fred Astaire, and when you guess how it was done it becomes even more mysterious and awesome. It's the purest, most total movie sequence I've ever seen in my life. It's very strange because Fred Astaire has the most stupid face on screen and his movies have the most insipid stories. But everything ever filmed with him has some sort of greatness. And the purest of the pure, the finest of the fine for me is this sequence from Swing Time. It's cinema, nothing else.