Chop Suey (15)

Hot on the heels of his Chet Baker portrait Let's Get Lost, Bruce Weber's 2001 cine-scrapbook earns a re-issue, and serves to remind us why he is a photographer rather than a film-maker.

Fuzzily impressionistic, it rummages through a sewing-box of snapshots, home movies, favourite quotations, interviews and old TV clips, though fails to find a linking thread that would hold it together. It hops around disparate subjects – raunchy chanteuse Frances Faye, a family of surfers, poodles, former Vogue editor Diana Vreeland, English explorer Wilfred Thesiger – and indulges his signature interest in sculpted male torsos.

It's very pretty-looking, and one or two clips bear the revisiting, but its patchiness is no more attractive for being self-confessed, and Weber's philosophical musings are banal.