In recent times, those who have a passion for documentaries have been extremely well served on DVD, with two genres in particular proving to be favourites of video companies large and small alike - nature in all its forms, and war (and there is, of course, no small irony in that). War documentaries tend to be well suited to DVD, not least because of their length - it’s hard to sum up any large-scale conflict in a short film, and while nothing’s quite come close to the epic length of the granddaddy of war chronicles, The World At War, most reasonable efforts tend to run to many hours.

Colour Of War, though, is something of an exception. Running a comparatively modest 148 minutes, this three-part TV series simply doesn’t have time to delve into the intricacies of the conflict it’s covering (in this case, the Second World War) - in documentary terms it’s more like the Reader’s Digest Condensed War. But there is a key reason for this, one which is hinted at by the title. The intention of Colour Of War (released in its native England as The Second World War In Colour) is to bring together as much available colour film of World War 2 and the times surrounding it as possible (real colour film, incidentally - no colourising is used here) to try and lend the events and stories even greater impact. Most are used to the old black and white film of WW2 events and conflicts, but little has been seen of the small amount of colour footage shot at the time (though even as far back as the 1970s when The World At War was produced, some small amounts of colour footage were available).

It’s extremely effective - and affecting - of course, as the chain of events that’s so familiar to everyone is played out in glowing colour on screen, with John Thaw’s restrained narration (as well as extracts from letters and diaries of people of the time) guiding the viewer through material that ranges from the fascinating to the truly horrifying. This series pulls few punches in showing the true brutality of war, an admirable stance that may nonetheless trouble the squeamish. But it has to be shown - here, there’s no triumph and glory, only misery, cruelty and devastation on a grand scale, all driven by a handful of men. It’s thought provoking and moving in the extreme; this series is not about the technicalities and tactics of war, but instead about the human experience and cost. It works extremely well.

The title of the series may confuse some - the original British title is used on the episodes themselves, but the annoyingly flippant “international� title Colour Of War is used on the case and in the DVD menus. The “sequel� to this series (Britain At War In Colour) was released some time before this one on DVD in Australia, but under its original UK title; it, too, is well worth seeing. Unlike many other documentaries on World War 2, Colour Of War focuses on the human experience of this terrible time in 20th Century history, giving the viewer only the most essential outline of the series of events. It presents some truly remarkable colour footage of the events of the time, and does so with astonishing technical quality and a real sense of amazement and horror at the events that unfold; if detached, analytical war documentaries leave you cold, this is the disc for you.

With fading 8mm and 16mm film shot both by amateurs and professionals as the source material, those who sit down to watch this disc will already be well aware that they’re not about to see crisp, vibrant DVD images. However, the superb work that has been done by the series producers in transferring the film material to video will surprise you - it’s remarkably well done, and some sections look astonishingly detailed and clear. The film elements have been transferred to video at their various original frame rates (some of them, particularly those from home movie cameras, run at very low frame rates) and naturally all of them are presented full-screen, as is the series itself.

The opening credits sequences reveal that this is a pristine, well-authored copy of the original TV broadcast master tapes - there’s nothing to complain about video-wise at all.

The three episodes, each running a shade over 49 minutes, are stored on a dual-layered disc, and oddly there appears to be a layer change positioned right at the tail end of the episode 2 end credits.

The sole audio stream provided on this disc is a Dolby Digital 2.0 stereo track that accurately mirrors the original stereo sound of the TV production. Mastered at a slightly higher level than normal, it’s as clean and clear as you’d expect from a modern production. There are a few glitches here and there, especially during the second episode; these take the form of small digital clicks that appear to have been on the master tape. They’re very minor, though, and won’t bother most people.

The music score throughout is by Chris Elliott, who insightfully balances the mood of the music to suit what’s on screen; while largely computer-generated, it’s a very appealing and listenable score that comes up well on the DVD.

Something appears to have gone awry during the authoring of this DVD - or at least, you’d think so from the text announcement that appears at the end of each episode. “In the making of this programme,� it says, “many images remained unused. What follows is a selection of the best of them.� The disc then promptly drops the viewer either back to the main menu or straight to the opening credits of the next episode (depending on how you’ve chosen to view the disc). So where, you ask, are these unused images? Well, our guess is that the three five-minute compilations of “Extra Footage� included in the extras menu of this disc were originally meant to appear at the tail end of each individual episode; just why they’ve been separated from the programmes is unclear. The extra footage, backed by Chris Elliott’s main theme (the same one each time) is all fascinating stuff, though there’s been minimal, if any, digital cleanup and colour enhancement done here, unlike the footage in the episodes themselves.

Aside from this, the extras are limited to a series of menus giving access to “Letters And Diaries�. These are actually links to excerpts from the episodes themselves, all authored to have their own “title� on the DVD.

The animated menus are exceptionally well done and completely in keeping with the style of the production itself.