PINK FLOYD IN CONCERT: DELICATE SOUND OF THUNDER-100 minutes, Columbia Music Video, $24.98.- Directed by Wayne Isham and beautifully filmed during last year's "Momentary Lapse of Reason" tour, this concert video is among the very best rock has ever produced. For one thing, Isham has managed to reflect Pink Floyd's state-of-the-art concert staging, in which a high-tech space station was home base to lasers, strobes and other spectacular lighting effects and to a huge oval screen on which Storm Thorgarson's eerie, surrealistic films were projected. Performance, conceptual video imagery, even the spectacular pyrotechnics and special effects are all subtly integrated so that you feel like a participant and a spectator. Pink Floyd's slow-to-develop art-rock music is often melancholy, and Isham has filmed and edited its performance so well one is gradually overwhelmed by its spirit. The audience certainly looks as if it's in a state of pop ecstasy; although it was played out in huge arenas, this concert experience seems very immediate. Besides David Gilmour's consistently eloquent guitar work, audio-visual highlights include the deliberate "Us and Them," a caustic "Money" and percolating "Time" and a very intense "Dogs of War." The material is both classic Floyd and from more recent albums, frequently fleshed out by Gilmour's extended solos. As a bonus, the video includes four songs not heard on the similarly titled live double album. -- Richard Harrington GLAM ROCK-1989, 60 minutes, Virgin Music Video, $19.95.- Pop music has had few more ridiculous offshoots than Glam Rock, the British diversion that kicked off in the early '70s with the diminutive Marc Bolan and his band T. Rex and carried on briefly with the likes of Gary Glitter, Slade and the Sweet. These bands are the focus of "Glam Rock," the funniest rock video since "This Is Spinal Tap" and the most outrageous collection of bad fashion sensibilities since Patti LaBelle. Take Gary Glitter (please!): Spiritual guru to Joan Jett, he's David Bowie without talent, taste or imagination and he's a riot on the near-wordless "Rock and Roll (Part 2)," "The Leader of the Gang," "Do You Wanna Touch Me" and "Oh Yes You're Beautiful" (both composed while looking in the mirror). Like Glitter, Bolan was a master of the catchy sing-along chorus, but in these performances of "Jeepster," "Hot Love" and "Get It On," he (like everyone else) camps it up to the max. Oddest over-production number: Wizzard's "I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday," in which one suspects they really mean Halloween. -- Richard Harrington TRUE BELIEVER-R, 1989, 103 minutes, RCA-Columbia Pictures Home Video, $89.95.- A thriller about moral rejuvenation, and there's not a lot wrong with it that another actor in the lead couldn't cure. As Eddie Dodd, the renegade defense attorney, James Woods has his juiciest role since "Salvador," and the actor throws his his entire being into the part. Woods is an all-or-nothing actor, and as Dodd he pontificates like a holy roller strutting the true gospel. Dodd is forever on the balls of his feet, fixing the jurors in his Svengali gaze. With his graying ponytail swinging between his shoulder blades, he's an excessive, flamboyant showman -- the Mick Jagger of jurisprudence. There's a thrill in these courtroom confrontations and, emoting for the jury, Woods is convincing enough, but there's something panicky in his style -- he acts scared, like a comic bombing in front of a hostile crowd. And part of the film's problem is that director Joseph Ruben relies too much on Woods's whirring turbines to power his scenes. The dilemma of a '60s provocateur stranded in the moral gray zone of the '80s is a powerful one, but the themes aren't well-served by the thriller plot. Ruben sustains the tension, but the work he does here is that of a proficient craftsman -- and he's more than that. -- Hal Hinson THE BOOST-R, 1989, 95 minutes, HBO Home Video, $89.99.- A near-classic of tawdry excess, this picture has an urgent message to deliver. It says that drugs are bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. And so what if they are? Does that mean we have to take this turgid, '50s-style melodrama seriously? Lenny and Linda Brown are the film's main characters, and they're very much in love. Lenny is a real-estate salesman with true gift for the pitch. Problem is, he pushes too hard. He's not satisfied just to make the sale -- he wants them to love him too. The other problem is that he's not very lovable. The movie, which was directed by Harold Becker and stars James Woods and Sean Young, looks into the roots of the drug problem, and this is what it comes up with: That people get involved with drugs because their values are skewed and they don't love themselves. And jot this down: Fame and money aren't fulfilling; it's Love that's important. Achingly simplistic, the picture seems to have sprung, fully cliched, from Leo Buscaglia's brain. There is something to be said, though, for the spectacle of watching that superball actor James Woods bouncing from wall to wall. As Lenny the cokehead, Woods mugs, screams, bugs his eyes, and looks for all the world like a man drowning in an inch of water. And this is even before he loads up. -- Hal Hinson CRUSOE-PG-13, 1989, 94 minutes, Virgin Vision, $89.95.- Daniel Defoe wouldn't recognize "Robinson Crusoe" in this fallow revision of his 18th-century classic by Caleb Deschanel. It's no longer a hoary tale of the castaway and Friday, but a scenic adventure featuring a handsome Gilligan (Aidan Quinn) and his fuzzy dog Scamp. Concerned about the racism inherent in the relationship between Friday and Crusoe, screenwriter Walon Green sacrifices the native, forcing Crusoe to converse with Scamp. Here Crusoe is not an English adventurer but a greedy Virginia slave trader who is marooned when his ship founders in a storm. He builds a hut, gardens, fishes and finally gets his comeuppance when pursued and captured by a fierce islander (Ade Sapara). Having learned what it is to be denied freedom, Crusoe is rescued and returned to civilization. Quinn, skinny and sincere, gives a performance in which primitive meets yuppie. It's "tarzansomething," a salty yarn turned tame, a lot like watching an aquarium. -- Rita Kempley