The pick of the litter is surely Jailhouse Rock, which features a commentary by rock critic Steve Pond, as well as a remastered widescreen transfer and a new 5.1-channel audio mix. Elvis, in all his heavy-lidded, curled-lip glory, plays a convict who learns to rock while in prison, then becomes a big star after he’s released. The film contains six tasty songs by hitmeisters Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, including the title track; the film’s justly famous rendition of it remains one of the best rock videos ever, even after 50 years. Warner’s other biggie, Viva Las Vegas, is considered by many to be the crown jewel of the King’s screen oeuvre. Some rank Jailhouse Rock and King Creole higher, but Vegas is undeniably his most entertaining film, a delightful pop fantasy in which Presley and the ur-babe Ann-Margret shake, shimmy and belt out a number of terrific tunes (including the effervescent title number and Elvis’s version of the Ray Charles classic “What’d I Say”). The stars have real chemistry (the fact that they were having an affair at the time certainly helped), which raises the onscreen temperature of this wonderful piece of eye candy, well orchestrated by veteran director George Sidney (Annie Get Your Gun).

Alongside its gems, Warner is also releasing Elvis: The Hollywood Collection ($49.92), a six-disc set including such nonstarters as Kissin’ Cousins (1964), a tedious, cornpone-filled musical in which the King stumbles through two equally uninteresting roles; Stay Away, Joe (1968), a nonsinging film about contemporary Native Americans filled with stereotypes so painful, they make the Cleveland Indians’ mascot look positively benign by comparison; and Charro! (1969), a soporific, spaghetti-Western-inspired oater in which a bearded Elvis tries to look lean and mean, but just comes off as pained and out of his element.

Not much better is Paramount Home Entertainment’s Lights! Camera! Elvis! Collection ($76.99), in which the titles—Easy Come, Easy Go; Girls! Girls! Girls!; Fun in Acapulco—say pretty much all you need to know about them. At least this eight-disc set includes King Creole, in which Presley plays a nightclub singer involved with the underworld. It’s also one of the few times he worked with an A-list director (Casablanca’s Michael Curtiz), rather than the studio hacks (Norman Taurog? Peter Tewksbury?) he was constantly assigned. Unless you’re a masochist with money to burn, the studio’s stand-alone King Creole disc ($12.99) is the purchase to make.

And hey: What would the anniversary of the King’s death be without a hagiographic documentary or two? Well, the two-disc special editions of Elvis: That’s the Way It Is (1970) and 1971’s This Is Elvis ($20.97 each) sure fill the bill. The first is a fascinating (though one-sided) look at Presley as he prepares for his fabled Las Vegas stage show. The second is an interesting, if uneven, documentary-biopic that scarcely mentions Presley’s marital and drug problems, but contains some tremendous live footage, ranging from his legendary Ed Sullivan Show gig to one of his last performances before an adoring crowd, in Portland, Maine.

These tasty performance bits remain an affirmation of the King’s incredible stage presence, which was watered down by movieland’s attempt to make him the Boy Next Door. What made him a star was that glistening pompadour, the sultry good looks and his ability to turn almost any song—from gospel to rock—into highly charged melodrama. The films may have a certain value as nostalgia, but it’s the music that remains eternal.