The set's three DVDs are packaged separately in their own semi-transparent Amaray cases, which are kept together in an equally semi-transparent plastic sleeve. Sticking the first DVD in the player reveals a simple but stylish menu featuring the sputtering neon 'Brazil' logo against a background of infinitely receding filing cabinets as the title song plays in the background. Selecting the movie itself plunges the viewer into one of the cabinet's drawers, in which is mounted a bare cathode ray tube displaying the Criterion logo, followed by the film itself.

The high standard of presentation continues in the chapter menus, with individual chapters presented in typescript alongside a similar CRT screen showing clips from the film interspersed with static and picture break-up. There are thirty-five chapters, indexed either according to the content of the film or the subject of Gilliam's optional commentary track. The latter is pretty much what you'd expect: Gilliam is his usual irrepressible self, and ranges over everything from the film as a whole down to technical minutiae, interspersed with scurrilous anecdotes about his colleagues on the film and various Hollywood types.

The Gilliam-supervised transfer is, needless to say, at the correct 1.85:1 aspect ratio, and looks very nice indeed, though it's docked a point for not being anamorphic (Criterion have only recently changed their policy on anamorphic transfers, and sadly this was one of the last packages made under their old policy). The soundtrack is Dolby Surround, on the entirely reasonable grounds that this is the closest format corresponding to the film's original Dolby Stereo soundtrack, and was digitally remastered especially for this edition to Criterion's usual high standard.

The second disc is the one Brazil fans are likely to pay most attention to, as it contains a quite phenomenal collection of extras - and took the better part of a day even to scratch the surface. Subdivided into ten sections, the DVD ranges over the entire production history of the film, from its earliest script draft to the epic battle that Gilliam fought with Universal Studios over its Stateside release. The material is presented either in video form, or through typescript text on watermarked Ministry of Information notepaper, complete with slogans ("Suspicion Breeds Confidence", "Liberty/Equality/Fraternity/Information", and so on).

The first section, 'Script Development', describes all six drafts of the screenplay in detail (focusing especially on ideas that didn't make it into the final version), interspersed with Gilliam's initial scribbled sketches and other visual accompaniments (photos that provided inspiration, stills from the film itself, and so on). As a supplement, there's a ten-minute video interview with Gilliam and his co-writers Tom Stoppard and Charles McKeown.

The second section, 'Storyboards', looks at the gestation of the film's nine dream sequences. In fact, these storyboards are rather more ambitious than the final film, as many of Gilliam's more extravagant ideas had to be reined in for budgetary reasons. It includes a detailed description of the legendary "eyeball scene", which ended up hitting the cutting room floor.

The third section, 'Production Design', has separate sections devoted to the look of the film, the approach to colour, the locations, studio sets, props, the advertising and propaganda posters (intercut with genuine pre- and post-war posters that inspired them: it's hard to tell the difference!), and even the stationery and forms used in the film. All this is extensively illustrated with photos, sketches and stills from the film itself. The fourth section, 'Costume Design', is a five-minute montage of photos, sketches and film stills, narrated by costume designer James Acheson and ranging over his approach to the costumes in general as well as specific characters.

All these elements come together in the fifth section, 'What is Brazil?', a 30-minute documentary shot on location, with plenty of production footage as well as interviews with Terry Gilliam, Jonathan Pryce, Kim Greist, Katherine Helmond, Michael Palin, editor Julian Doyle, special effects supervisor George Gibbs, prosthetic make-up artist Aaron Sherman, co-writers Tom Stoppard and Charles McKeown, co-producer Patrick Cassavetti - plus a rare chance to see footage of the cut eyeball sequence. It's helpfully subdivided into eight sections for easier navigation.

Sections six and seven focus on post-production elements, namely special effects and music. The special effects section covers seven specific sequences: the flying scenes, the monoliths, the eyeballs, other miniatures, the samurai, the Forces of Darkness and the gloriously disgusting shot of Mrs Terrain's remains spilling out of her coffin. Each section is copiously illustrated with stills, storyboards and video clips. Section seven, 'The Score', consists of a ten-minute montage of interviews with Gilliam and composer Michael Kamen, both explaining their approach to the music.

Sections eight to ten cover the marketing and release of the film, starting with the original trailer, moving on to a collection of nearly a hundred stills, posters and lobby cards (though it's a pity these weren't subdivided into separate categories: you have to step through all of them in a fixed order), and culminating in the hour-long documentary The Battle for Brazil: A Video History. Exclusive to this Criterion set, this tells the story of Gilliam's epic year-long battle with Universal Studios over the US release of the film, and filmmaker Jack Mathews has somehow managed to persuade all the major participants to contribute, even when they come across as crass, money-grabbing philistines. As with the earlier documentary, this is helpfully subdivided into eight chapters.

And so to the third DVD, which the more hardcore fans of the film will doubtless prefer to handle with tongs or at least heavy industrial gloves, since it contains the notorious 94-minute "Love Conquers All" cut of Brazil. Much, much worse than a simple case of removing nearly fifty minutes, this is such a travesty of Gilliam's original vision that it becomes a weirdly fascinating experience - particularly the ghastly new "happy ending", which even resorts to optically-treated stills of Pryce in the absence of any usable footage. Other alterations are equally crass - obvious post-dubs by different actors to change dramatic emphases, scenes radically re-edited to not only obscure but actually invert their original meaning, and so on.

Helpfully, Criterion have included an optional commentary from critic David Morgan, in which he not only highlights the changes that were made but also explains their significance, as well as possibly unintentional side-effects such as the fact that this version appears to be an implicit endorsement of terrorism. This version of the film is presented in pan-and-scan 4:3 and the sound is resolutely mono - but under the circumstances that's not a major problem: indeed, this should ensure that no-one mistakes this cut for Gilliam's own!

So is it worth the asking price? Well, stating the obvious, you have to be a major fan of the film to get the most out of this set - and there is at least a cheaper alternative release (albeit on R1), which will satisfy those who just want the film. But for anyone seriously interested in Brazil, or Gilliam's work in general, or even the age-old conflict between art and commerce so vividly dramatised here, this is a model of how to get it right: minor quibbles aside, this is undoubtedly the most comprehensive DVD package yet released to be devoted to a single film.

Michael Brooke