The DVD Wrapup: Sky, 11 Minutes, Raiders!, De Broca, Session 9, Dirty Country, Buckaroo Banzai and more

Sky

So much has been made lately about the immigrants attempting to cross our southern border to find work, we’ve forgotten about the many people who come here simply to discover something that’s been missing in their lives and think it might be hiding in Hollywood, Las Vegas, Graceland or New York. Fabienne Berthaud’s frequently compelling road picture, Sky, describes what happens when the marriage of French couple implodes in the Middle of Nowhere, USA, and she declares her independence in a most American way … violently. Thinking that she’s killed her drunken mate with a lamp, after being humiliated by him in a dumpy bar attached to a crummy motel on the western edge of the Mojave Desert, Romy (Diane Kruger) grabs a ride with trucker (Lou Diamond Phillips) heading for Las Vegas. Instead of being dropped off in front of the Bellagio or Venetian, where she might have landed a shop as a cocktail waitress, at least, Romy finds herself stranded downtown, at a bus stop, next a sad old thing in a bunny outfit, who poses for tourists alongside a fake Elvis. In exchange for a place to crash, Romy agrees to wear the costume for a night, during which she allows herself to be hustled by a shaggy guy in a cowboy hat. Diego (Norman Reedus) mistakes her for a prostitute and, because the shoe fits, she goes along with the ruse. Romy takes an immediate romantic liking to him, despite a cough that suggests he might be near the top of a list of lung-transplant candidates. Actually, it’s not that far from the truth.

With the money he leaves behind on the nightstand – unsolicited – Romy buys a beater car and heads back to the town she’d left a few days earlier to turn herself in to the sheriff. Instead of being cuffed and read her rights, a friendly cop tells her that her husband survived the beating and wasn’t pressing charges. No matter, because in Romy’s mind, he’s history. After visiting his hospital room and telling him to buzz off, she makes a beeline for the address Diego left behind with the hundred-dollar bills. Turns out, he’s a park ranger and not at all unhappy to see her. It doesn’t take her long to fall into the simple patterns followed each day by desert rats, waiting tables for beer money and hanging out with Diego’s dead-end pals, one of whom is a pregnant boozer played rather well by Lena Dunham. In a nice twist, Berthaud allows for Romy’s closest acquaintances in the dusty crossroads town to be Native Americans – they re-name her, Sky — whose tribe apparently missed out on the casino boom. As unlikely as the story sounds, I’m not sure it is all that different from the one told so well in Percy Adlon’s off-the-wall dramedy, Bagdad Café, which shares some of the same desert locations with Sky. The leads are very good, especially the German-born Kruger, who’s starred in all three of the director’s features and had key roles in Inglourious Basterds, Unknown and “The Bridge.”

11 Minutes

At the ripe old age of 78, Polish filmmaker Jerzy Skolimowski (Deep End, Essential Killing) borrowed a technique he used in film school, more than a half-century ago, for the synchronistic drama, 11 Minutes. By combining disparate stories and tying them together at the end, Skolimowski describes how unrelated residents of the same city can be united in communal empathy by a single event. It is the culmination of 11-minute snippets from the lives of several residents of Warsaw. Viewers are able to synchronize the events through an “event” – an airplane flies dangerously close to the city’s skyline — that, we know, takes place at a specific time. Because the plane is seen in at least two of the sequences, it’s possible to draw inferences to 9/11, although with no degree of certainty or deeper meaning. Knowing, perhaps, that we might not be able to connect all of the dots within the movie’s 81-minute length, Skolimowski opens with a four-minute precede — mixing sleek cinematography with footage from webcam, smartphone and CCTV cameras — offering glimpses into something going on between a husband and wife, a film director and a married actress he’s “interviewing” in a hotel room, a hot-dog seller with a sordid personal history and a messenger, who delivers more than packages. If the fragmented approach seems overfamiliar, almost formulaic, it’s because similar synchronicity occurred in Babel, Crash and Short Cuts. Giving the characters only 11 minutes to establish themselves in our minds turns it into more of a chamber piece than anything else. And, given that 11 Minutes is an arthouse exercise, it’s reasonably acessible.

Raiders!: The Story of the Greatest Fan Film Ever Made: Blu-Ray

For a shot-for-shot remake to be taken seriously, it has to be as close to a Xerox copy of the original as possible, without also being a parody or casting gimmick. Gus Van Sant justified his 1998 remake of Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho by shooting it in color. (It didn’t work.) Michael Haneke remade his 1997 German-language thriller, Funny Games, 10 years after its original release, this time in English. (It did.) American television reboots of such British hits as “The Office,” “Skins” and “Coupling” have used the same scripts with different actors, to mixed results. What allows Raiders!: The Story of the Greatest Fan Film Ever Made to succeed at the same game is a backstory so singularly off the wall that isn’t likely to be repeated any time soon. After all, who in their right mind would consider copying a mega-budget project — Raiders of the Lost Ark – whose elaborate set pieces, top-shelf talent and exotic locations made it a state-of-the-art experience. Still, in 1981, two 11-year-olds in Mississippi set out to remake their favorite film, word-for-word, scene-for-scene, special effect by special effect, seemingly just for kicks and bragging rights at their school’s AV club. With considerable help of friends and the guidance of parents, Chris Strompolos and Eric Zala managed to complete their DIY adventure in seven years. All that was missing was the explosive sequence at the end of the movie. Thirty years later, the now-estranged friends – cherchez la femme – tie all of the loose ends together and fully realize their childhood dream. Then, Tim Skousen and Jeremy Coon decided it might be fun – if not particularly profitable – to document the long-delayed project, which was being funded by a successful Kickstarter campaign.

Fans of Steven Spielberg’s classic adventure might recall that part of the final scene involved a brawl between Nazis and anthropologists at a makeshift landing strip. The “flying wing” aircraft was blown up before it could escape with the Ark to Berlin. Considering how disastrously wrong other special-effects experimentation went in the original go-round, it’s a good thing that the 11-year-olds didn’t get their hands on the explosives they’d need to finish their film. Things would go badly enough almost 40 years later, even with pyrotechnics experts manning the fuses. As it is, one of the amateur filmmakers came within a few hours of losing his job in Hollywood because of the many rained-out production days. The documentary also describes what happened when an unfinished cassette of “Raiders!” was discovered by a bunch of Austin film nerds, shown to an SRO crowd at the Alamo Drafthouse and it ultimately made its way to Spielberg, who loved it. Chances are, so will you. The finished product isn’t included in the Blu-ray package, as it’s still on tour and through VOD. “Raiders” does feature interviews with John Rhys Davies, Eli Roth and Harry Knowles, as well as cast and crew members and parents, whose marriages were less successful than either movie. It’s a lot of fun to watch and, in the right hands, truly inspirational. The Blu-ray adds four hours of extras, including dual audio commentary tracks (with Skousen and Coon, as well as Strompolos and Zala); deleted scenes from the documentary; outtakes from the adaptation; Q&A footage from the adaptation’s 2003 premiere at the Alamo Drafthouse in Austin; and a photo booklet featuring storyboard art drawn from memory by the boys, when they were tadpoles.

Philippe de Broca Double Feature: On Guard/Five Day Lover: Blu-ray

The thought occurred while I was watching Philippe de Broca’s swashbuckling adventure, On Guard, that I can’t remember seeing Errol Flynn and Douglas Fairbanks wearing the kinds of wigs – powdered or otherwise – forced upon French and British actors when portraying the same literary and historical heroes. John Wayne began sporting a wig in 1948, but not that any of his fans would notice. The hairpiece he wore when impersonating Genghis Khan, in The Conqueror, could have passed muster in the Beatle Invasion, eight years later. Like Alexandre Dumas’ 1846 novel, “The Three Musketeers,” Paul Féval’s 1857 historical adventure “Le Bossu” (“The Hunchback”) has been adapted for the screen five times since 1912, the last one 46 years ago. Although a $30-million budget may not sound like much money for such an epic yarn, even in 1997, every penny of it is visible in the spectacular locations, period costumes, interior sets and elaborately choreographed action. Best known for the splashy mid-’60s James Bond parodies, That Man from Rio and The Man from Acapulco, de Broca’s also shepherded several large-scale productions (Cartouche) and the humanistic anti-war dramedy, King of Hearts, which found more support on American campuses than in France. Spanning 16 eventful years, beginning in 1700, On Guard follows a skilled swordsman, Lagardère (Daniel Auteuil), who is befriended by the playboy aristocrat Duke Philippe de Nevers (Vincent Pérez), after the upstart engages the even more proficient fencer in a non-lethal duel. By doing so, Lagardère hoped to learn his secret maneuver, the “Nevers Attack.”

Later that night, Nevers’ weaselly cousin, the Comte de Gonzague (Fabrice Luchini), attempts to assassinate him, thereby allowing him to claim the family inheritance. When that fails, Lagardère and his new friend set out for a grand castle in the French Alps, where Nevers will marry his lover and claim his bastard child as his heir. Gonzague’s men aren’t finished with him yet, however. During the bloody attack that follows the wedding, Lagardère is able to escape with the baby, while the new bride/widow is taken hostage by her cousin-in-law. He takes her back with him to Paris, where she’ll be imprisoned and judged too mentally unstable to control the family fortune, which includes large holdings in French-controlled territories west of the Mississippi River. From there, the action, deceit and romance never stop. If On Guard is 10-20 minutes too long, viewers can focus less on the subtitled dialogue and enjoy the scenery provided by the Château-Ville-Vieille, in Hautes-Alpes; Paris’ Hôtel de Sully and Place des Vosges; Le Mans, on the Sarthe River; and various locations in Queyras, in Hautes-Alpes. A making-of featurette comes with the two-disc package.

And, now, for something completely different. Released in 1961, Five Day Lover is the kind of risqué sex comedy American arthouse audiences came to expect from French filmmakers at a time when the Production Code still dictated the borders of Hollywood rom-coms and Doris Day was simultaneously viewed as both virginal and a sex symbol. Although nudity was limited to bare backs and shoulders, the film’s laissez-faire attitude toward adultery and sex outside of marriage probably was considered provocative. I doubt anyone considered it to be an early salvo in the sexual revolution, however. Jean Seberg, less than two years removed from her breakthrough performance in Breathless, plays a young Brit, Claire, living in Paris with her bookish husband, Georges (François Périer), and their two small children. One day, while attending a fashion show mounted by her friend Madeleine (Micheline Presle), Claire flirts with a lighthearted young Frenchman, Antoine (Jean-Pierre Cassel), whose only visible means of support appears to be provided by the socialite designer. Although Claire appears to love her husband, she chafes at his frugal nature and boring small talk. Antoine’s his polar opposite. Madeleine doesn’t seem to mind the younger man mooching off her, as long as he satisfies her in bed. The same is probably true for Claire, who doesn’t limit her love-making sessions to any one piece of furniture. When Madeleine learns of the affair, she plots an ambush by inviting Claire, Georges and Antoine to the same party and seeing what happens. It’s at this point that reality sets in for the participants in the lovers’ quadrangle and de Broca’s camera is there to capture it. Georges Delerue’s bouncy score, combined with Jean Penzer’s ability to capture the joys of living in Paris in pristine black and white cinematography, really enhance the film. Especially telling is a sequence in which the illicit lovers win 200,000 francs at a racetrack and decide to blow it all in one night on the town … something Paris was built to accommodate. At sunrise, they find themselves at the grand Château de Chantilly, which, coincidentally, Claire had visited with Georges a week earlier. During a long pause in their conversation, she proves as adept at making mundane small talk as her husband. What’s really great about Five Day Lover, however, is the presence of Seberg, a fine American actress who suffered from depression after being set up in a FBI conspiracy and killed herself, 18 years later, at 40.

The Playboy of the Western World

Watching it today, more than a century after The Playboy of the Western World was first performed in Dublin, it’s difficult to understand how the wicked comedy sparked riots by nationalists who viewed the contents of the play as an offence to public morals and an insult against Ireland. As one of the co-founders of the Abbey Theatre, Irish playwright John Millington Synge probably wasn’t expecting such a reaction to what would later be considered to be his masterpiece. No less a patriot than William Butler Yeats felt it necessary to defend the play against the rabble who also rioted against Seán O’Casey’s pacifist drama, “The Plough and the Stars.” “You have disgraced yourself again,” he declared. “Is this to be the recurring celebration of the arrival of Irish genius?” Today, of course, “Playboy” is about as controversial as the latest pronouncement by Bono. This isn’t to say that it isn’t tremendously entertaining or is hopelessly anachronistic, though. The play is set in a remote inn on the west coast of Ireland at the dawn of the 20th Century. The innkeeper’s daughter, Pegeen Mike, is preparing for her marriage to a local lad, when a young man barges into the tavern, claiming that he’s on the lam for killing his father. After Christy Mahon cleans up a bit, he becomes the most eligible bachelor in County Mayo, even charming Pegeen out of her betrothal. Turns out, however, that reports of the old man’s demise are greatly exaggerated. It puts a whole new spin on how the men and women of the village look at Mahon, if not how he perceives himself outside the boundaries of the old man’s farm. Although much of the comedy is lost in the lack of subtitles on this DVD edition, the play is celebrated for Synge’s use of the poetic, evocative language of the lyrical speech of the peasant Irish. The DVD performance by Ireland’s Druid Theater Company was taped in 1982 and is considered to be among the best adaptations of the play.

Love Me

Among the many noteworthy movies that have examined the immigration process commonly associated with “mail-order brides” and “picture brides,” depending on the direction a woman travels to her new home in the United States, are Jan Troell’s Zandy’s Bride, Kayo Hatta’s Picture Bride, Ali Selim’s Sweet Land and Henry Koster’s Flower Drum Song. None whitewash the difficulties attendant with meeting a potential spouse, absent any previous history together, and expecting that things will work out somewhere down the road. That any worked out at all is something of a miracle. (My Greek grandfather married my Greek grandmother based solely on information exchanged in a few letters and references from her future brother-in-law, who already was in the United States and anxious to get married to a girl he knew from the same village.) The United States was a very different place in the 19^th Century, when sending for brides, based on newspaper ads or sketchy photographs, became an option for lonely men working on the prairie or the railroad. The ration of men to women was way out of balance, especially when language differences also had to be taken into consideration. Jonathon Narducci’s informative and frequently intimate documentary, Love Me, introduces us to the new generation of Internet-order brides, if you will, and the men willing to spend thousands of dollars just to meet them. It isn’t all-inclusive, by any means, but the film identifies most of the pluses and minuses. We aren’t told why a disproportionate number of Ukrainian women are willing to be courted by western men working through agencies that advertise their services on the Internet, with reasonably accurate photos of female candidates but sketchy bio backgrounds.

Here, we follow groups of men before and after they travel to the Ukraine for meet-and-greets in three different cities, where translators are provided and free time is allowed to break through to the second level. It’s easy to see why the men we meet, some just off their second or third marriages, would have a problem connecting with post-feminist American women. Some have unreasonable expectations of women they hope will share their Eisenhower-era vision of the nuclear family, while others must not have looked in a mirror in the last 30 years, because they couldn’t look any less like Robert Redford or, even, Vladimir Putin. The women, on the other hand, range from agreeably plain to stunning. We’re given no reason to believe they’re gold diggers, strippers looking for better opportunities in the Land of Milk and Honey, gang molls or shills for the agencies. Indeed, the men seem more desperate than the women, despite the Ukraine’s crappy economy. Perhaps, the female candidates have heard the stories about what’s happened to mail-order brides who’ve disappointed their husbands and paid the ultimate penalty, whether by being murdered or going to jail for beating the bugger to death. If there’s no reason to think that any such problems could arise here, it’s safe to believe that some might have been averted by last-minute cold feet.

Dirty Country

The working principle behind Joe Pickett and Nick Prueher’s truly outrageous doc, Dirty Country, is: “Dirty music … it’s as American as apple pie.” With apologies to such lyrical smut-peddlers as piano man Dr. Dirty, proto-rapper Blowfly and frat-faves Doug Clark’s Hot Nuts – whose works are on display here – and Roger Alan Wade (“Butt Ugly Slut”) and the late Rusty Warren (“Knockers Up”), being American has nothing to do with dirty music. It’s probably as old as the graffiti on the walls of Pompeii brothels. And, yes, there’s a big difference between the songs heard in “party records” and the rap ditties of 2 Live Crew or Three 6 Mafia, or even the time-honored beatnik smut of the Fugs. The purveyors of party records are like those kids we all met in junior high who discovered early in life that “penis” and “vagina” are inherently funny-sounding words and met with laughter 100 percent of the times they’re uttered out loud in study hall. After losing his factory job in the placid central Indiana town of Middletown (pop. 2,900), 53-year-old Larry Pierce turned to writing and recording raunchy country albums, which were sold almost exclusively in truck stops. It’s where Pickett and Prueher found the material that inspired them to embark on the five-year journey to make Dirty County. Along the way, Pierce connected with the Colorado rock band “-itis,” which already was performing songs they lifted from his albums, accompanied by the kind of props one can find at your local sex shop. Such cuts as “Don’t Fart When You Screw,” “She Makes My Peter Stand Up” and “Destination Dirtpipe” borrow familiar pop melodies, while leaving almost nothing to the imagination. In any case, the lyrics are far less relevant than the titles, as they tend to be repeated ad nausea. The documentary spends a lot of time in Pierce’s garage, where his wife, mom and neighbors boogie until the cows come home, singing along to “Pussy Whipped,” “Sick Minded Bastard” and “Will You Swallow My Cum.” He hit the jackpot when he was discovered by Howard Stern and has been touring ever since.

American Sophomore

Sundown

The release of American Sophomore into DVD has either been delayed for four years or seven, depending on who one asks about such things. When it was originally pitched to potential distributors, however, it was simply called “Sophomore.” By adding “American” to the title, we’re supposed to make the connection between it and American Pie. Both are about teenagers at their most uncouth, but the similarities pretty much end there. T. Lee Beideck’s film is split into several sections — First Day of School, Freshman Friday, Drink King, Last Day of School, among them — and each vignette focuses on different students, faculty and staff. (Once a year, a secret drinking contest is held after-hours among the faculty and staff members, including Patrick Warburton’s janitor and dad, with the winner being crowned the Drink King.) Then and now, the only prominent names among the cast members are Warburton (“The Rules of Engagement”) and Amanda Plummer (Pulp Fiction), who add whatever touches of class the comedy possesses. I’d like to think they conducted master classes with the young actor whenever time permitted during production. As you might imagine, American Sophomore focuses on the many indignities upperclassmen inflict on freshmen and teachers during the course of a year. You already know what most of them are … and may have experienced one or two. Just when you think Beideck’s film is going down in flames, he pulls out of the plunge by allowing the kids to learn from their mistakes and mature before our eyes. It’s a nice touch, especially because the freshmen and middle-school characters look their age, for once, and the teachers aren’t uniformly drawn as automatons or fascists. Apart from an inspirational quote, I’m not sure why the school is named after Helen Keller … there’s also a non-ironic quote from Abraham Lincoln. More surprising were the songs by Woody Guthrie, including his delightful “Riding in My Car.”

Adding “American” to the title of Sundown wouldn’t have made it a single iota more recommendable to fans of “spring break” or “coming of age” comedies. Neither does a thematic resemblance to Risky Business add much to the hapless story. What I did find interesting was the financial backing accorded the production by different entities in the Mexico tourism industry, specifically those promoting visits to Puerto Vallarta. They should demand their money back, as the Mexicans we meet in Sundown are, by and large, crooks, creeps, scam artists, pimps, prostitutes and cock fighters. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a cameo by drug kingpin Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán. Guadalajara-born writer/director/producer Fernando Lebrija (Amar a morir) contrives a scenario in which a pair of American high school seniors, Logan and Blake (Devon Werkheiser, Sean Marquette) embark on a spring trip to Puerto Vallarta, without the approval of their parents or much spending cash. Logan is carrying his grandfather’s Rolex watch, which he had picked up at the jeweler the morning of their departure and would lose within hours of their arrival … of course. Ostensibly, the reason they’ve chosen the scenic Pacific coast city is to hook up with their high school crushes. Instead, they’re swindled by everyone they meet, including a pint-sized travel guide and fixer, Chuy (Silverio Palacios), and a stripper, Gaby (Camilla Belle), in debt to a perverted pimp, Dorian (Jordi Molla). Naturally, after Gaby slips a “roofie” into Logan’s drink, she grabs the Rolex and turns it over to Dorian. He’ll return the watch to Logan, but for $5,000 he doesn’t have. This is how the cockfight – not graphic, but still unappetizing – figures into the story. With his parents (Teri Hatcher, John Michael Higgins) out of town on a vacation of their own, Logan is racing the clock to get back home with the watch. (Recalling the race against time in Risky Business.) The wet-and-wild spring break activities aren’t enough to balance the display of rampant criminality in Sundown, but PV still looks like a nice place to visit. The movie’s greatest asset is a soundtrack that includes the in-person electric-dance-music of Paul Oakenfold and Steve Aoki. For some reason, Lebrija also decided to add a cameo by “Girls Gone Wild” fugitive Joe Francis, who has a luxury resort nearby. The DVD adds making-of and other features.

Session 9: Blu-ray

When Session 9 was released in 2001, co-star David Caruso was still attempting to backpedal his way into the hearts of American TV and movie audiences, after famously predicting the demise of “NYPD Blue” when he pulled up his stakes and left the show 26 episodes into the show’s 12-year run. He refused to grasp the reality of his irrelevancy as a cast member in a true ensemble show or anticipate the ascendency of Dennis Franz’ Detective Andy Sipowicz. Brad Anderson’s haunted nuthouse thriller didn’t require of Caruso that he carry the weight of the movie on his shoulders, anyway. The real star was the recently shuttered Danvers State Mental Hospital, a monstrous facility custom-built to scare the crap out of anyone who passed through its gates. The other interesting thing Session 9 had going for it was Anderson’s decision to shoot the film on HD, one of the first high-profile features to do so. After 15 years of dormancy, a developer wants to convert the 126-year-old facility into condominiums … a scheme that could have served as the premise for another horror flick entirely. Pollution-control guidelines demanded the removal of hazardous materials before any construction could begin, forcing the developer to hire a Hazmat team to get rid of the asbestos. No sooner does the team arrive at the site than the workers begin swapping yarns about the former residents, medieval medical practices, reported hauntings and abuses attributed to the staff. Once inside the hospital, the leftover hardware and murky infrastructure provide all the necessary background for the paranoia being exhibited by the harried crew, which includes Peter Mullan, Paul Guilfoyle, Stephen Gevedon and Brendan Sexton III. The discovery of a lobotomy tool and tapes of therapy sessions provide more chills than almost anything else in Session 9. Special features include “Return to Danvers: The Secrets of Session 9,” featuring interviews with Anderson, actor/co-writer Stephen Gevedon, actors Josh Lucas, Brendan Sexton III, Larry Fessenden, composers Climax Golden Twins, and director of photography Uta Briesewitz; “Horror’s Hallowed Grounds,” revisiting the locations of the film; commentary with Anderson and Gevedon; deleted scenes and an alternate ending, with commentary by Anderson; and featurettes “Story to Screen” and “The Haunted Palace.”

The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension: Collector’s Edition: Blu-ray

A natural corollary of a work of art being ahead of its time – in this case, The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension — is that it was too hip for the room. Released in 1984 to some critical acclaim, but almost no business, it still defies easy summarization. A rock-’n’-roll sci-fi comedy, “Buckaroo Banzi” tells the story of the space-age renaissance man, Dr. Buckaroo Banzai (Peter Weller), who’s a physicist, neurosurgeon, test pilot, race driver, musician and potential savior of humanity from a band of inter-dimensional aliens called Red Lectroids. Led by the deranged dictator Lord John Whorfin (John Lithgow), the Lectroids steal the Oscillation Overthruster — a device that allows Banzai to travel through solid matter — with the intent of using it to return to their home of Planet 10. Banzai’s Hong Kong Cavaliers, who bear some similarity to Doc Savage’s Fabulous Five, reside at the Banzai Institute, a think-tank located in Holland Township, New Jersey. They are also Buckaroo’s rock band. There are several more heroes and villains included in the narrative, but why add incomprehensibility to confusion? It must have made sense in the cocaine-fueled 1980s, but, without the benefit of a graphic novel or superhero series to support it, the story became an unholy mess. Or, to be more precise, a potential cult favorite. By the time, “Buckaroo Banzai” evolved from concept to reality, first-time director W.D. Richter had written Slither, Peeper, Nickelodeon, Dracula, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Brubaker and All Night Long. Writer Earl Mac Rauch wrote New York, New York and A Stranger Is Watching. With that much talent on board, it’s almost inconceivable that such a flimsy plot could be attached to such an intriguing looking production. The cast also includes an all-star lineup of character actors: Ellen Barkin, Jeff Goldblum, Christopher Lloyd, Clancy Brown, Dan Hedaya, Yakov Smirnoff, Jonathan Banks, Carl Lumbly, Lewis Smith, Pepe Serna, Matt Clark, Vincent Schiavelli and Billy Vera (of the Beaters). Special features include “Into the 8th Dimension: A Two-Hour Retrospective Documentary,” including fresh interviews with cast and crew, many of whom still can’t say with any accuracy what it’s about; commentaries with Michael and Denise Okuda, and Richter and Rauch; a “declassified” featurette; alternate opening sequence (with Jamie Lee Curtis); deleted scenes; and “Jet Car” trailer.

Microwave Massacre: Blu-ray

In one of the truly incongruous castings of all time, the famously deadpan comedian Jackie Vernon was chosen – after Rodney Dangerfield passed on the opportunity – to play the protagonist in Microwave Massacre, widely acknowledged as one of the worst horror movies of all time. Vernon’s presence, as a cannibalistic widower, normally wouldn’t be sufficient reason for Arrow Video to bestow a full 2K restoration on what, in 1983, was one of the original straight-to-video miscues. But, in addition to the many fine blaxploitation, sexploitation, giallo, yakuza, German new wave and other classic exploitation films it’s released, Arrow’s also found room for such indigestible fare as Brian Yuzna’s Society, John Grissmer’s Blood Rage and Buddy Cooper’s The Mutilator. And, thanks to TLC and fresh featurettes, the Blu-ray packages aren’t cheap, either. Here, Vernon, the same guy who provided the voice for the animated holiday special, “Frosty the Snowman,” plays a construction worker so tired of his wife’s complaining and gourmet-food experiments that he bludgeons her with a pepper grinder. Still hungry, Donald dismembers the body and sets about microwaving the remains, which turn out to be rather delicious. For variety, Donald will bring home the occasional stripper and once again perform the gastronomical exercise. Microwave Massacre is so ineptly made that the do-it-yourself horror would hardly frighten a flea. If Vernon isn’t much of an actor, at least he’s come up with any number of witty asides that add a spark of originality and humor to the proceedings. The Blu-ray adds audio commentary with writer-producer Craig Muckler, moderated by Mike Tristano; a new making-of featurette, including interviews with Muckler, director Wayne Berwick and actor Loren Schein; a reversible sleeve, featuring original and newly commissioned artwork to be; and fully-illustrated collector’s booklet, with new writing on the film by “Nightmare USA” author Stephen Thrower.

TV-to-DVD

Spike: I Am JFK Jr.

Nickelodeon: Shimmer and Shine: Welcome to Zahramay Falls

PBS Kids: Wild Kratts: Wild Reptiles

When, on July 16, 1999, a small plane carrying John F. Kennedy Jr., his wife, Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, and her older sister, Lauren, crashed into the ocean off Martha’s Vineyard, it triggered a tsunami of mourning only slightly less devastating than the one that followed the recent death of Princess Diana. That one, of course, was sustained by conspiracy theories and the assumed complicity of paparazzi on motorbikes and a, perhaps, drunken chauffeur. While speculation that the 38-year-old Kennedy had pressed his beginner’s luck by attempting a nighttime landing seemed reasonable, the American media chose to treat this and every other family misstep as the extension of a curse or, worse, payback for his grandfather’s devil’s bargain with the Mafia. By all indications, young Kennedy was a decent fellow who avoided the spotlight, but wasn’t reluctant to back causes he considered righteous and stand up for friends. Moreover, he was undeniably handsome and sufficiently buff, even, to be considered a prize catch for Elaine Benes, on “Seinfeld.” (She blew it, of course.) Shown on Spike-TV as part of its “I Am …” series of bio-docs, “I Am JFK Jr.: A Tribute to a Good Man” is a celebrity-driven homage, filled with interviews with such friends, acquaintances and observers as Robert De Niro, Cindy Crawford, Mike Tyson, Christiane Amanpour, Chris Cuomo, Paul Begala, Grateful Dead songwriter John Perry Barlow, New York restaurateur Richie Notar, professional colleagues Rose Marie Terenzio, Gary Ginsberg and Matt Berman, fellow First Son Michael Reagan and media gadflies Ann Coulter and Larry Flynt. The 93-minute film is grounded with personal photos from John’s closest friends and vintage newsreel footage of young John in the White House, on vacation with his family and rare footage of him in the years after his famous father’s assassination. Entertaining, informative and occasionally insightful, without also being academic or comprehensive, it’s from the same director, Derik Murray, who’s already done “I Am Chris Farley,” “I Am Evel Knievel,” “I Am Bruce Lee” and “Johnny Cash: American Rebel.”

From Nickelodeon’s lineup for kids arrives “Shimmer and Shine: Welcome to Zahramay Falls,” a compilation of previously aired episodes. The show focuses on a young girl, Leah, and her friends — twin genies in training — Shimmer and Shine. They grant Leah three wishes every day, but they don’t often work out as planned. In the double-episode, “First Wish,” Leah wins a genie bottle pendant at a carnival and is surprised to find that her prize comes with a bonus, in the form of Shimmer and Shine. Leah wishes for a polka-dotted elephant and things get complicated when she uses her remaining wishes to keep her neighbor, Zac, from seeing the elephant. In the end, the girls create a new carnival attraction and learn that they can overcome any obstacle by working together. In the title segment, Shimmer and Shine receive a special Green Burst Gem from Princess Samira and bring it into the human world. The evil sorceress Zeta uses magic to steal the gem, but her spell goes awry and pulls Leah and Zac into Zahramay Falls. In “Happy Wishaversary,” it’s time for Shimmer, Shine and Leah to celebrate the anniversary of their first wish. The twins make Leah a bracelet with a magical touch. When Leah puts the bracelet on, she can float like a genie, but only until she loses control of the prize.

PBS Kids’ “Wild Kratts” is an American-Canadian educational animated series created by Chris and Martin Kratt. The show’s aim is to educate children about biology, zoology and ecology, while teaching small ways to make big impacts. The episodes collected here are “Wild Reptiles,” “The Gecko Effect,” “Crocogator Contest,” “Rattlesnake Crystal” and “Chameleon on Target.”

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