Here, the filmmaker layers his preoccupations so that the film becomes a much more rewarding work; employing an allegorical framework so that each scene conforms to the notions of physical evolution and the origins of life, whilst also developing notions of visual symmetry, twin-ship, personal loss, cosmetic amputation, death, decomposition, lists and lettering, as well as the post-modern self-aware referentialism of filmmaking its self. The central experiment here deals with the notions of film lighting, with Greenaway and his cinematographer Sacha Vierny demonstrating every conceivable method of how to light a scene (e.g. sun-light, moon-light, florescent lights, car-head-lamps, the light from a TV set, and in one partially stunning scene, the reflected light from a rainbow... and so-on).

As with the BFI’s subsequent release of Greenaway’s narrative debut, the Draughtsman’s Contract, A Zed & Two Noughts comes digitally re-mastered with a wealth of eye-opening bonus material. Unlike the majority of filmmakers who use up commentary tracks to spill their guts about the pressures of directing egotistical stars or waxing lyrical on a number of trivial anecdotes, Greenaway uses his talk-track to offer new insight into the thematic layering of the film, as well as clarifying elements of the plot that might otherwise be unreadable. His extensive knowledge on the Dutch renascence painter Johannes Vermeer for example, is particularly interesting, especially when he is discussing the influence of Vermeer’s 26 paintings on the visual design of the film. Elsewhere, we have the filmed introduction to the picture, again by Greenaway, lovingly constructed to ape the design of the filmmaker’s more recent work like Prospero’s Books and 8 Women.

There are also a collection of deleted scenes, sleeve-notes, behind the scenes footage, and a collection of hidden features... very much in keeping with the arcane game-playing central to the plot. The print of the film, in its original, integral cinematic ratio of 1:66.1 spherical gives Vierny’s opulent cinematography a whole new lease of life, whilst the 5.1 stereo surround sound allows the audience to indulge themselves in the brilliance of Michael Nyman’s iconic soundtrack (re-hashed many times for other films, adverts, and so-on over the twenty-years since). Although the film is labyrinthine, austere, calculated and overly designed, it is in no way an elitist work...

Greenaway’s deft-handling of the script allows for innumerable moments of subversive satire and darkly comic wit, whilst the charm of performers like Frances Barber, Joss Ackland, and (shock-horror) Jim Davison is more than enough to break-through the ascetic-veneer. This is one of the greatest British films of all time... an excellent work of artistic entertainment on a lovingly packaged disk, making A Zed & Two Noughts (a film) ripe for re-discovery.