Quentin Tarantino's breakout feature, Reservoir Dogs almost single-handedly rejuvenated the American independent film industry. "Shocking and perversely funny", Tarantino's unique combination of blood lust and black humour meant that an otherwise small story about a heist gone wrong became one of the most influential movies of the 90s - well, until Pulp Fiction came along anyway. Over a decade after its UK release, Tarantino's gangster classic finally gets the Special Edition treatment.

Kevin Who?

Plucked from the archives is a batch of slightly surreal and wryly amusing interviews with assorted cast and crew. Among these you'll hear Chris Penn postulating on his craft in the back of a truck; a bumptious Tim Roth carelessly asserting "I'm not a Methodist actor"; and of course Quentin Tarantino playing Six Degrees Of Kevin Bacon to explain how his script got into the hands of Harvey Keitel - except that Kevin Bacon really had nothing to do with it.

A very tangential, but nonetheless engaging, addition to this package is Film Noir Files. Essentially it's another collection of interviews with various masters of the genre, from crime writer Donald Westlake, to British directors including Stephen Frears, John Boorman, and Mike Hodges. If you want a lively introduction to nihilism in the movies, you'll lap this up.

Mr Red-Faced

Talking of nihilism, the Class Of 92 relives "the memories and the misery" of the Sundance Film Festival 1992, where Reservoir Dogs debuted. In amongst the hopelessly academic blathering of critics and industry watchers, QT offers much needed gusto. His tirade against the Sundance jury is especially hilarious, as he resentfully notes, "I didn't win jack s***!" He then proceeds to wallow in the glory that immediately followed rejection, and finishes with the declaration, "We were the closest America had to the French New Wave." Way to be modest, QT.

However, the standout feature of Class Of 92 is a compilation of early test scenes produced at the Sundance Filmmaker's Lab, featuring a (comparatively) fresh-faced Steve Buscemi, plus a slightly podgy Quentin. In spite of the coarse video format, you'll be impressed by QT's virtuosity with a camera, his dramatic low-angle framing, and taste for symmetry - characteristics that are instantly recognisable in the finished film.

Let's Go To Work

The seven deleted scenes offered here are chiefly made up of wise-assed vignettes, but the prime attractions are two versions of that notorious ear-lopping scene. You'll know why Version B didn't make the final cut (so to speak), just as you'll realise why latex prosthetics should never be filmed in close-up.

Thrown in for good measure is a look at Location Scouting with Billy Fox, whose deepest insight comes with unwittingly strolling into a gay bar and being surprised by how "friendly" everyone is. Meanwhile, in the Tributes And Dedications section, QT talks about those who influenced him as a filmmaker, including notorious hold-up man-turned-actor Eddie Bunker.

The one glaring omission, in an otherwise generous package of extras, is an updated director's commentary. Instead we're fobbed off with archive interviews clumsily patched together with ambient noise and all. Even then, QT doesn't get a lot of talk time. It's not often you can say that about Mr T, which makes it all the more frustrating. Even so, this twin disc release is bound to have Dogs fans in the pink - and there's nothing wrong with pink, you got that?