Posts Tagged ‘Hand in Hand’

MW on DVDs: Disneynature Oceans, The Maltese Falcon, The Exorcist, Visions of Europe, Predators … and more

Tuesday, October 19th, 2010

PICK OF THE WEEK: NEW

DisneyNature: Oceans (Blu-ray & DVD) (Four Stars)

France-U.S.; Jacques Perrin/Jacques Cluzaud, 2009

A real gem, from France, where they love to watch the world through a camera eye. Made by Jacques Perrin and Jacques Cluzaud, the two directors of the magnificent birds-in-flight documentary Winged Migration, here’s an equally magnificent view of the ocean and its denizens. Fantastic music. Incredible cinematography. Good narration. It was done by Perrin himself (who once acted the part of the young reporter in Z) in the French original. Here in this DisneyNature version, it’s by a non-Bonded Pierce Brosnan.

Disneynature’s 2009 Earth, fashioned from the Alastair Fothergill-David Attenborough masterpiece Planet Earth, was a real movie event last year, though I prefer the original. And this is easily one of the best pictures I‘ve seen all this year — the kind of thing movies can do better than any other art form. If you skip it and buy Predators instead (see below), you ought to have your head examined. Or you should be eaten by a hump-backed whale. Or forced to repeatedly watch nothing but stuff like Predators and Night of the Demons.

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PICK OF THE WEEK: CLASSIC

The Maltese Falcon (Blu-ray) (Four Stars)

U.S.; John Huston, 1941 (Warner Bros.)

Dashiell Hammett‘s The Maltese Falcon was one of the first detective novels to be regarded as literature by serious critics, to be praised by names like Alexander Woolcott. And the book‘s terse, hard-bitten, coolly realistic portrait of a working private eye, Hammett’s immortal hard-boiled Frisco sleuth Sam Spade, set the mold and the standard for years, decades, half-centuries to come.

But, good as it was, respected as it was, The Maltese Falcon seemed to defy all attempts at cinematic adaptation –it was botched twice at Warner Brothers, once in 1931, with Ricardo Cortez as Spade, and again in 1936, with Warren William as Spade (and Bette Davis as the femme fatale) — until it finally found a writer-director, 35-year-old John Huston, who treated Hammett’s writing as literature and treated the book as a classic-to-be. The result: an inarguable movie milestone and one of the great detective films of all time. It was also an early fountainhead of film noir, a style which took many of its strongest visual and thematic cues from both Huston‘s Falcon and another 1941 picture by John’s pal Orson: Citizen Kane.

How did Huston do it, when the two earlier versions were such shoddy goods (‘31) and such a bad joke (’36)? Easy. Huston, a longtime fictionalist and first-rate screenwriter (Sergeant York for Hawks, High Sierra for Walsh) was one cineaste who respected good writing. So he basically filmed the book, keeping the story and the dialogue as is, and devising (with cinematographer Arthur Edeson, who’d shot most of Doug Fairbanks Sr.‘s movies, and also Sergeant York, and later, Casablanca) a visual approach and design that fit Hammett and Spade to a dark “T.”

Taking their cues from Hammett’s hard-edged prose, Huston and Edeson created onscreen a shadowy world of cheap-shop shamus’s offices, and dark streets with accumulating corpses, and bare sinister hotel rooms full of gumshoes and gunsels, fat men and femme fatales, effeminate Levantines and bullying cops, of viewpoints tilted and askew and drenched in shadows and darkness, and of bad, immoral people or dubious characters (see all the above) poking their heads into the frame to eyeball each other, trying to sniff out the whereabouts of the jewel-encrusted, murderously valuable Maltese Falcon.

Huston did something else that had eluded the previous directors, Roy De Ruth (‘31) and William Dieterle (’36). He cast the film perfectly, picking all the right actors for all those “wrong” people. Mary Astor, whom George S. Kaufman had given a bad public rep for sexual hanky panky, oozes nervous pulchritude (“She‘s a knockout,” says Spade‘s savvy secretary Effie), phony innocence, lying bitchery and utter heartlessness as Brigid O’Shaugnessy, the bad noir gal who hires Spade and sets the trap in motion. (No femme was ever more fatale.) Peter Lorre, the great madman of Fritz Lang’s M, swishes evilly, creepily and often hysterically as the perfumed, cane-wielding little rat Joel Cairo. Don’t blink, but who could have done a better near wordless “good luck” cameo for his son, playing the dying Capt. Jacoby, Falcon in hand, than the matchless Walter Huston?

Find me two better flatfeet, the good cop and the bad cop, than Ward Bond’s Polhaus and Barton MacLane‘s Dundy. (Go ahead. I dare you.) Find me a better sleazy weasel of a partner for Spade than Jerome Cowan as Miles Archer. Or a better sex-crazed, weepy wife for Miles than Gladys George‘s Iva. Or a better Girl Friday secretary for Spade than Lee Patrick’s Effie. Or a spookier, more boyishly pathetic gunsel than that top-of-the-line little hard guy Wilmer Cook, as incarnated by Elisha Cook, Jr. (“Gunsel,” by the way, doesn’t mean what you think. It was private eye slang for homosexual consort.)

And if you think the actor ever lived who could have topped Sydney Greenstreet (making his film debut) as the Falcon‘s indefatigable, jovial, relentless hunter, that compulsive talker and book-reader, the fat man, Caspar Gutman — that anyone living or dead could have conjured up a better sinister smile, or captured quite that quiet baleful-eyed once-over he gives Spade, or that wicked hiccuping laugh, or those chubby cheeks and cold eyes, or spewed more eloquent and genially malevolent chit chat (“By gad, sir, you’re the man for me…I’m a man who likes to talk to a man who likes to talk!”)…Well, all I can say is: You’re dreaming, my friend, dreaming.

Then there’s Bogie. Thank God for the stupidity and bad script judgment of George Raft — who turned down High Sierra (it went to Bogart), turned down The Maltese Falcon (it went to Bogart, the actor Huston wanted anyway) and then even may have turned down Casablanca. (Is this guy nuts?) Good results anyway. Because nobody plays it hard-boiled, smart or tough like Bogie. Not Raft. Not Cagney, not Robinson, not Garfield. (And they’re all terrific). And not even Lee Marvin. Hell, not anybody. Bogie is the four-term President of Noir. (Marvin may be the Vice President of Neo-noir.)

Bogart’s Sam Spade is also one of the all-time great (lot of those in this review, aren’t there?) Hollywood lead acting jobs: perfectly shaped, articulated and executed. With that vicious grin, that mean twitch of a lip, that sullen stare, and those matchlessly insolent (except for Betty) wise cracks, all punch-lined by Max Steiner’s smashing, crashing score, Bogart’s Spade is the ultimate good bad guy, or bad good guy.

Spade, modeled by Hammett on his own career as a Pinkerton detective, is totally believable as a first-tier shamus, a smart aleck supreme, and a walker on the mean streets (where, according to Raymond Chandler, a man must go). When Spade hectors and cons Wilmer, chivvies the cops and pours them booze, grins at Brigid and says “you’re good; you’re awful good,” or spars verbally with the intellectual heavy Gutman, he cracks us up.

When he sends over Brigid and tells her he won’t play the fall guy for her, he chills our blood. And when he clutches the phony falcon to his chest and tells Ward Bond (Who needs to quote Shakespeare right anyway?), that it’s “the stuff that dreams are made of” (on), then he opens up the door to the movie world of bad dreams and great shots, the world of Noir. Nobody can ever close it.

And now we know how to make a movie of The Maltese Falcon.

Extras: Commentary by Eric Lax; Featurettes’ Warners 1941 blooper reel; three radio versions, two of The Maltese Falcon, two with Bogie, one with Edward G. Robinson; 1941 trailers; Makeup tests; Warner Night at the Movies, with 1941 newsreel, musical short, two Looney Tunes, and trailers for all three movie versions of The Maltese Falcon.

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CO-PICKS OF THE WEEK: BLU-RAY

The Exorcist: Extended Director’s Cut and Original Theatrical Edition“ (Two Discs) (Three and a Half Stars)

U.S.: William Friedkin, 1973 & 2010 (Warner Bros.)

The Devil gets into Regan (Linda Blair), the pre-teen daughter of movie star Chris McNeill (Ellen Burstyn), and raises all kinds of old-fashioned special effects hell, while two priest-exorcists (older, wiser Max Von Sydow and younger, tormented Jason Miller) try to exorcize it and a movie-loving cop (Lee J. Cob) watches out for the evil he knows and the evil we don’t.

Based by screenwriter William Peter Blatty on his best-selling novel, and directed with edgy realism and pictorial panache by William Friedkin (two years after The French Connection), this one scared the public silly back in the Nixon era. And still does. (The extended cut has ten extra minutes.)

Extras: Commentaries (on the original) by Friedkin and Blatty and (on the director’s cut) by Friedkin; Documentaries; Intro by Friedkin (on the original); Interview gallery; Original ending.

DisneyNature: Ocean (See above.)

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PICK OF THE WEEK: BOX SET

Visions of Europe (Six Discs) (Three and a Half Stars)

U.S.: Roy A. Hammond (aerial director/executive producer), Sam Toperoff (producer/editor/writer), 2001-9 (Acorn Media)

One of the most visually stunning travelogue series ever, the “Visions” sets from WLIW in New York, offer spectacular aerial tours of the great sights of Europe, shot in gorgeous high definition cinematography, accompanied by typical but well-executed music and narration.

Among the many sights seen (from way overhead) here: London, Paris, The Alps, The Rhine, the Cote d’Azur, Rome, Vienna, and St. Peter’s Square. (Watching the Roman set, you can imagine for a while that you’ve changed places with Marcello Mastroianni’s hedonist/journalist Marcello in La Dolce Vita, and you’re swooping over the city in a helicopter.)

I showed these grand cinematic tours repeatedly to my 90-something mother Edna in the last years of her life — and she loved them. Of course, as a painter and artist and lifelong student of art, Edna had been familiar with the history of these places for most of her life. But she never got to see them in real life, never got to walk along the Seine or through the Louvre, to fly above the Mediterranean, or to gaze at Michelangelo’s ceiling in Rome.

Many people like Edna never have nor will either. And many others as well. These films, done about as well as this kind of travelogue project can be, were a wonderful substitute for being there, and they’d be a great gift for anyone who can’t go, or wants to go, or wants to remember what it was like, to see the world. Here, it’s seen beautifully, from far above, as few others can.

Includes: Visions of Italy (U.S.; Roy A. Hammond/Sam Toperoff, 2001, 2002, 2008). Four Stars. Contains the programs Visions of Italy: Northern Style, Visions of Italy: Southern Style, Visions of Sicily and Visions of Italy: The Great Cities (Rome, Florence, Naples, Capri, etc.) Other Sights: Lake Como, Pisa, Venice, Pompeii, Calabria, Palermo, St. Peter’s Square, The Coliseum.

Visions of Greece (U.S.; Duby Tal, aerial director-producer/Toperoff, 2002-3). Three and a Half Stars. Contains the programs Visions of Greece and Visions of Greece: Off the Beaten Path. Sights: Athens, Corfu, Crete, Rhodes, Thessaloniki, The Nissiros Volcano.

Visions of France (U.S.; Hammond/Toperoff, 2004). Three and a Half Stars. Contains the programs Visions of France: Provence and Visions of France: The Riviera. Sights: The Mediterranean Sea, Arles, Avignon, Aix, Luberon, Grand Canyon of Verdon, The Cote d’Azur, Cannes, Nice, St. Tropez, Monaco.

Visions of Germany (U.S.; Hammond/Toperoff, 2004-2005). Three and a Half Stars. Contains the programs Visions of Germany: Bavaria and Visions of Germany: Along the Rhine. Sights: The Rhine, Bonn, Constance, Cologne, The Bodensee, The Black Forest, Koblenz, Heidelberg. (Music by Beethoven, Wagner and Strauss.)

Visions of Austria (U.S.; Hammond/Toperoff, 2007). Three and a Half Stars. Sights: Vienna, Schonbrunn Palace, Bregenz, Innsbruck, Salzburg. (Music by Mozart, Strauss and Schubert.)

Visions of the Great Cities of Europe (U.S.; Hammond/Toperoff, 2009). Three and a Half Stars. Sights: London, Budapest, Rome, Florence, Vienna, Prague, Dublin, Paris.

Extras: Hours of bonus footage not seen on the TV series.

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OTHER CURRENT OR RECENT DVD RELEASES

Predators (One and a Half Stars)

U.S.; Nimrod Antal, 2010 (Fox)

I‘d be less than honest if I didn’t inform you that Predators — a horror movie about a Dirty Half-Dozen or so of mercenaries parachuted down onto a planetful of monsters — isn’t a piece of god-awful shit. I would however be borrowing, and maybe putting to better use, one of the two words most often employed by screenwriters Alex Litvak and Michael Finch in their flabbergastingly bad dialogue. And I don’t mean “god-awful.”

This is a picture oddly hailed in some critical corners as an effective shocker and a return to the cinematic glories of the original 1987 Predator. Effective? Shocker? Glories? Actually, the original Predator was no great shakes as a movie either, even though it provided a showcase for two future United States governors, star commando Arnold Schwarzenegger (California) and backup heavy Jesse Ventura (Minnesota) — and even though it has a dubious rep as a cult show.

A heavy-duty, high-concept action movie in which growling, scowling macho mercenaries lost in the South American jungle, battled a monster from outer space, it was basically just as dumb and just as badly written (by Jim and John, the Thomas Brothers) as this one, though it benefited some from John McTiernan super-slick, Die Hard era direction.

The first Predator was mostly just another witless high concept marketing-hook movie from that witless, high concept marketing-hook movie decade, the god-awful Eighties. I guess you had to be a movie going kid of 12 or so to appreciate them, or to get nostalgic for stuff like Commando, Rambo or Top Gun.

I don’t have a clue why producer Robert Rodriguez, a moviemaker I usually like, was so hot on breathing life back into Predator-land, especially after those rotten Alien-Predator match-ups had almost deservedly wiped it out. Or why producer Rodriguez talked the gifted Hungarian-American director Nimrod Antal (Control, Vacancy), into staging this sort-of-sequel, not to mention recruiting a cast that boasts talents like Adrien Brody, Laurence Fishburne, Alice Braga, and Topher Grace, but who here (except for Fishburne, getting what these writers probably regarded as an aria) are put to work, dreaming up new ways to slog through the forest, dodge stampeding monsters, spray automatic gunfire and inflect the words “shit” and “fuck.”

The basic premise actually isn’t bad. In fact, a lot of it comes straight from one of the movies’ all-time adventure-suspense classics — not the bloated bloody Predator but that ingenious, and endlessly imitated ’30s gem, from King Kong co-director Ernest Schoedsack (and original author Richard Connell) The Most Dangerous Game. In that knockout 1932 movie, Joel McCrea and Fay Wray were turned into beasts of prey, hunted through an island jungle by the elegant Hitchockian psychopath Count Zaroff (Leslie Banks). It’s old, it’s black-and white, and it has old-fashioned effects and stagier dialogue. But, if you walk out of Predators, as you probably should, and rent and take home The Most Dangerous Game instead, I can almost guarantee you‘ll have a better time.

Then again, maybe Predators really does understand its audience. (A sobering thought.) The new movie starts out with a bang: eight glum mercenaries — or actually seven mercenaries and one dork of a doctor (Topher Grace as the movie’s Odd Man In) — parachute into a huge jungle forest on what turns out to be an alien world where the sun never moves, there are several moons in the sky, and herds of terrible multi-horned, spiked, armored, savage beasts, modeled on the original Predator, begin repeatedly charging at them and trying to kill them.

The eight’s de facto leader is Adrien Brody as hardcase gunman Royce, who was in the middle of a battle somewhere when suddenly everything went white and he found him self falling, falling into Predators. Royce is accompanied by a group of gun-packing strangers who all seem to have dropped in from other battles or other movies: Danny Trejo as the perpetually glowering Cuchillo, Goggins Walton as the Joe Pantolian-ian wise-ass whiner Stans, Braga as the fetching Israeli commando Isabelle, Grace as token doofus Edwin, Louis Ozawa Changchien as the samurai-yakuza hybrid Hanzo, and Mahershalalhashbaz Ali (whose name probably won’t become a household word) as the African warlord Mombasa. All of them except Edwin and Stans are heavily armed, strong, silent types — though, for my money, not strong or silent enough.

Soon, Royce has it all figured out. (Nothing fazes this guy, not even the viscuous glop leaking out of the Predators.) It seems they’ve all been swooped up and dropped onto the planet as sport prey for the Preds — whom we later learn (from Laurence Fishburne as scavenger-veteran Noland, chatting in his cave) are divided into two classes: incredibly mean and murderous Predators or just sort-of-mean and not-quite-as-murderous Predators. Or “Wolves” and “Dogs.” (No “Puppy” Predators here, but Rodriguez probably didn’t go after Pixar.)

So, while Royce hatches plots to get them out of this mess, hell keeps breaking loose. The Predators keep attacking. The mercenaries keep blasting and swearing. Horrible traps keep getting sprung. Viscous glop keeps dropping. Isabelle keeps trying to soften up Royce, a thankless but probably not impossible task. (After all, she is Sonia Braga’s niece. And a Predator‘s dish, in both senses.)

This planet and its various monsters, meanwhile, turn out to be truly bizarre, truly outrageous. As Roger Ebert has pointed out, the Predators have so many horns and spears around their mouths and so many spikes on their bodies, it’s probably impossible for them to either eat or copulate, which means they would have died off long ago. And the planet has so immobile a sun and so many moons, it probably would have long ago burned up, or drowned in the tides.

But I‘m sure the moviemakers have an answer for all this. Maybe there’s improved global warming technology on the planet, financed by the Predator Leaders with the proceeds from their hunts. Maybe the Predators have hinges on their horns, or inhale sustenance though their noses or feet. Or maybe they have retractable penises and little trap doors in their stomachs which open up to reveal ravenous, evil little elves who pop out to make sperm bank deposits and also to gather herbs, mushrooms, and Puppy Predators and then pop back in. Or maybe these monsters just die off every week and the producers order a brand new bunch of Predators from Idiotic Cliché-land.

In the midst of all this viscuous glop comes the movie‘s real Achilles’ Heel — or should we say its Achilles shit-heel. The dialogue. Aaarrrgh! I’m not kidding when I say that if Predators had better dialogue, and the richer characters and humor that really good badinage and byplay spring from — or even if it just got rid of all the junk-talk it has now and replaced it with moans, screeches and quizzical grunts — it might have been a more bearable movie, even perhaps a good one. But here the empty cross-talk, except for Fishburne‘s aria (which, maybe remembering happier times, he seems to be trying to play as if it were one of Brando‘s Apocalypse Now monologues), is just minimalist four-letter-word-drenched cliché-macho horse manure. Or should we say predator-poop?

I didn‘t write it down, but, as I remember, some of the speeches went like this. “Fuck you!” “Fuck Me!” “Fuck all of you!” “What the fuck is going on around here?” “What the fuck is this shit?” (Or maybe it was “What the shit is this fuck?“) One of the juicier speeches, hysterically delivered by Walton: “We killed it! We killed it! We fuckin‘ killed it! We killed it! We killed it! We fuckin‘ killed it! Now what do you think of that?” (What indeed?) And the movie’s would-be “Make-my-Day” piece de resistance: “Let’s find a way off this fuckin’ planet!” Amen, brother.

Adrien Brody can be a marvelous actor, sensitive and magnetic. (So can Topher Grace.) But, with this movie and Splice, which I also disliked — but which had better dialogue than Predators — he seems to be trying to pull a Nicolas Cage: to parley his Pianist Oscar and elevate into the higher-paid reaches of action or horror movie stardom. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.

Actually, Brody has already made a very good (if underrated) adventure movie, the Peter Jackson King Kong. But, in every way except financially (which I concede makes a difference), I think he might be better off making more “Pianists” and lower-budget, smarter suspense films or noirs, or even running for Governor of New Jersey, than diving into stuff like Splice or Predators. Is Brody really happy fornicating with monsters (Splice) or hoisting an Uzi here and saying “What the fuck?” The Predators could use better scripts too. Or a daring chef and maybe a good sex therapist.

Predators isn’t completely stuck on Planet Moron. Even the screenwriters obviously have higher aspirations. At one point, Royce informs Isabelle and us that he’s cribbing some of his lines (not the ones above) from Hemingway. And one bare-chested Hanzo swordfight scene is obviously a homage to Akira Kurosawa‘s Seven Samurai master-swordfighter scene. (Unless it’s a homage to Taylor Lautner.)

Wisecracks aside, I bear no ill will toward Antal or Rodriguez, who have entertained me mightily in the past, especially with Control and Sin City. But, on one level, one can only hope Predators doesn’t attract enough fan boys, idlers and casual moviegoers to make it a sequel-worthy hit — because then we’ll actually have to find out…

SPOILER ALERT

….how they got off that f–kin’ planet. Frankly, I couldn’t give a shit.

END OF SPOILER

Please Give (Two and a Half Stars)

U.S.; Nicole Holofcener, 2010 (Sony Classics)

In the smart but somewhat off-putting comedy Please Give, writer-director Nicole Holofcener tackles an offbeat, half-promising subject: a group of upscale Manhattanites who feel guilty about having it so good, or feel miffed because they don’t have it even better.

I can laugh, but I can’t commiserate. (It’s clear that Holofcener wants us to do both.) Many people have it so much worse than the self-absorbed, smart but somewhat off-putting middle-class city-dwellers we see here that it‘s hard to feel sympathy for them — the couple played by Catherine Keener and Oliver Platt who buy bargain furniture at rock bottom prices from bereaved relatives at estate sales and resell it at their pricy “antique” store (and who are waiting for the 91-year-old neighbor to die so they can take over her apartment); that same old lady’s gorgeous mean granddaughter (Amanda Peet), a facial cosmetician who makes fun of her grandma, trashes or condescends to everybody else, seduces Platt’s Alex and stalks the new girlfriend of her ex; the couple’s overweight, zit-faced daughter (Sarah Steele), who keeps throwing snit-fits and demanding attention, and thinks a pair of 200 dollar designer jeans will solve all her problems; the antique shop’s gullible sucker-sellers and customers; and, unhappily enough, even the 91-year-old neighbor lady (Ann Guilbert), unappreciative of the daily efforts of her one good, helpful granddaughter (Rebecca Hall), and insulting and irascible toward everyone else.

You know what? The hell with these people. They should feel guilty.

The problem here is that most of them apparently don’t — except for Keener’s Kate, remorseful because she and her hubby are exploiting misery, who therefore runs around trying to volunteer at various local community organizations (but finds they depress her too much), and dispenses twenty-dollar bills to homeless panhandlers (to the film‘s, but not my, amusement), mistakenly showering some of her largesse on a restaurant patron waiting on the sidewalk just because he’s black. Kate’s behavior may be foolish, excessive and misdirected. But the impulse is justified. Come to think of it, old neighbor lady Andra’s misanthropy may be justified too.

Of course, if I’m reacting this way, this personally, it’s because Holofcener and her cast have drawn these characters so fully and well, that they’ve taken on some life of their own, and become capable of being morally measured or judged. Kate is foolishly good, just as Alex is roguishly but entertainingly bad. She’s an idealist who suffers at the thought that they may be profiting from pain. He’s a realist who to some degree, accepts pain and cheating as part of life, and thinks that a good joke can always straighten things out — but, in the end, is more affected by Kate’s idealism, maybe wants to be the husband she probably deserves.

Keener and Platt play this pair with enough casual naturalism (Platt) or wounded sensitivity (Keener) that we can relate to their basically unlikable lot. As for their daughter Abby, Sarah Steele plays her observantly and utterly without any actor’s vanity — though the last familial love scene between loving Mom, penitent Pop and jeans-crazy Daughter made me cringe.

More moral measurement. Rebecca, the empathetic radio technology tech who administers mammograms, and cheerfully visits Andra, even when she gets nothing but sourpuss cracks in return, is clearly a relatively good, caring person. And her sister Mary, who does facials at a spa, is clearly a relatively bad, selfish one — though Holofcener eventually showers generosity on them both. Is this the “Everyone has their reasons” grand compassion of a Jean Renoir? It often seems closer to the “Let’s all get along” tolerance of the average family diplomat.

It’s suggestive that several of the film’s critics, describing these two sisters, have called Mary a beauty and Rebecca a “plain jane.” Yet how could a stunner like Rebecca Hall, even without a stylish get-up or make-up, possibly be described as plain? Is it because we’re conditioned to find snappish, cruel, well-dressed, smart-asses like Mary as sexy? And people like Rebecca as schnooks and doormats? Is it because too many of us would rather be Marys than be Rebeccas, even if Mary is a shit? I ask; I do not know.

Ann Guilbert as Andra has potentially the best role in the movie, and she plays it with just the right weariness and droll bite. But she’s been cheated — and so are we — by the fact that Holofcener writes this role so darkly and basically unsympathetically, because the filmmaker so strenuously tries to avoid the obvious sentimentality we’d feel toward an elderly woman in what are probably her last days.

At one point, when Kate, Alex, Mary, Rebecca and Andra all get together, Mary starts talking about Andra and the disposition of her apartment after she’s dead, as if Andra weren’t even there. I was reminded of the memorably callous treatment of the children toward their economically strapped parents in Leo McCarey‘s poignant/funny masterpiece Make Way for Tomorrow — a movie that would probably inspire Kate to tears, Alex to irony, Mary to contempt/discomfort and Rebecca to thoughtfulness — and a film that Holofcener should definitely make a point of watching some day, if she hasn‘t already.

There’s actually great potential in that Please Give get-together scene — if only Holofcener would grant Andra, amid her acerbic complaints, moments of more sympathy, lightness, connection, humanity. But she doesn’t. And it’s hard to understand why. The press book tells us that Please Give is based on real life, on a real old lady and her younger neighbors/landlords, who all became friends. Friends? Did reality seem too sappy for a biting Manhattan comedy about guilt and privilege?

Holofcener (Lovely and Amazing) makes dryly funny, compassionate, realistic, verbally agile comedies with an urban setting. She once worked for Woody Allen (on Hannah and Her Sisters) and she’s clearly mining his territory, though with less wit and style. Please Give is a pretty good movie, and a notably well-acted one. But it’s been somewhat over-praised by some Manhattanphile critics, who perhaps recognize the characters too quickly as part of their own milieu, or the milieu they want to be near.

I confess I’d like Please Give a lot better if the pathos were deeper, and/or the jokes funnier. After all, Alex has a point. So does Kate. So does Rebecca. So does Mary and even pimply daughter Abby. So does Andra, God bless her. As Renoir said, “Tout le monde a ses raisons.” And as Woody Allen said, “I can’t keep up that level of charm. I’d have a heart attack.”

Night of the Demons (One Star)

U. S.; Adam Gieraschi, 2009 (e one)

Seven horny young hunks, druggies and babes, left behind when a Halloween party at a spooky old mansion is broken up by the cops, discover that a bunch of demons (fiends so bad they were expelled from Hell) are trying to get at them, turn them into demons, and take over the world — unless they and we all go though a dumb, far more expensive knock-off of The Evil Dead. Bad writing, bad acting, bad direction — but surprisingly good cinematography (by Yaron Levy). Sample dialogue: “You worked at Taco Bell? That’s awesome!” Question: “What are you, a liar or an idiot?” Answer: “An idiot.” There’s also a rock song about necrophilia. (Not kidding.) This one sometimes makes Predators look like The Exorcist. With Shannon Elizabeth and Edward Furlong.
Extras: Commentary by Gieraschi and others; Featurette.

Hand in Hand (Three Stars)

U.K.; Philip Leacock, 1960 (Columbia/Sony)

This sweet little film is the sort of picture often beloved by people who saw it very young and remembered it for years afterward. (It was a mainstay of the C.B.S. Children‘s Film Festival, hosted by those eminent Kuklapolitans, Kukla, Fran and Ollie.) Scripted by Diana Morgan and directed by Philip Leacock — who directed Steve McQueen in The War Lover, and shot a bit of Monterey Pop with documentarian brother Ricky Leacock — it’s a children‘s story about conquering religious prejudice and overcoming social schisms. The delightful (only occasionally syrupy) protagonists are a pair of bright, friendly seven year olds who meet in elementary school: a Catholic boy named Mike O‘Malley (Philip Needs) and a Jewish girl named Rachel Mathias (the adorable Loretta Parry).

If the movie has a flaw, it’s that it’s almost too nice, too generous. The kids don’t really confront too much in the way of local bile, hostility and prejudice, except for some passed-on bigotry from the playground bully and some religious hysteria from Mike‘s mother — who’s played by Kathleen Byron, the unforgettable religious-sexual hysteric Sister Ruth in Powell-Pressburger‘s Black Narcissus.

The movie really needs an older, meaner bigot or two as a primary antagonist, but it manages fine anyway. Most of the older folks are quite tolerant and good-hearted, especially two collegial fellow sports fans and buddies, the local priest and rabbi (played by John Gregson and Derek Sydney), as well as a cantankerous old shopkeeper (Finlay Currie, who was Magwitch, the escaped convict of Lean‘s Great Expectations) and Dame Sybil Thorndyke (Major Barbara) as a hospitable, kindly, elderly relative of Queen Elizabeth, who picks Michael and Rachel up hitch-hiking on the road and shows them around her mansion. The movie though does convey how hard it is for small children of varying faiths (and, though it doesn’t stress the point, of varying sexes) to maintain a friendship.

Hand in Hand is, above all, a nice, warm-hearted film. It honestly makes you feel good, but it isn‘t sticky. The softly-lit, lyrical black-and-white photography is by someone you’d never peg for an assignment as gentle and low-key as this one: Freddie Young, the great romantic landscapist who lit and shot those spectacular vistas for David Lean in Lawrence of Arabia, The Bridge on the River Kwai and Doctor Zhivago.

If you have young or very young children, I’d recommend this as one of the movies that, like The Wizard of Oz and the early Disney feature cartoons, should be a part of their childhood. The anti-prejudice message is obvious — but then, it should be.

Knock on Wood (Three Stars)

U.S.; Norman Panama and Melvin Frank, 1954 (Olive)

Danny Kaye, supported by Bob Hope team writer-directors Norman Panama and Melvin Frank, plus patter-songs and romantic ballads by his then-wife, Sylvia Fine, plays star entertainer/ventriloquist Jerry Morgan, whose acid-tongued dummy Clarence keeps messing up his love life. While performing in London, and losing another fiancé to his alter-ego’s wise-cracks and insults, Danny gets involved with competing teams of spies, both after some microfilm defense plans which end up in two versions of his dummy, Clarence and Terrence. Chaos and nonsense, with both Clarence and Terrence, ensue, and soon Jerry (or Danny) has spies dropping dead all around him.

Mai Zetterling, a Swedish Ingmar Bergman actress, and later an art-film director herself, plays the woman analyst who turns Danny into a prat-falling, gibbering, seat-belt-entangled fool. That excellent but little-used (in movies) actor David Burns is Danny’s Jewish mother of a manager. And Torin Thatcher is the most snobbishly satanic of the spies.

This is a good comedy with a few terrific scenes (Danny and Mai tangled up on the plane, the scene where Danny gets trapped onstage in a classical Russian ballet). But it has the seed of something great.

Toward the end of the movie, Danny spouts a little of his usual nonsense patter about the various criss-crossing spies, going (I think): “There was Gromeck and Brodnik and Shostic and Papinek. When Gromeck met Papinek…” Well, it’s not much, but the next time Panama, Frank and Kaye got together, in 1956’s The Court Jester, the star and writers let their imaginations run wild in the same direction and devised that classic tongue-twister “The pellet with the poison‘s in the vessel with the pestle. (Or the flagon with a dragon.) The chalice from the palace has the brew that is true.”

And that great Kaye routine (his best) throws the castle (with a passel of vassals in a hassel) and the patter (with a splatter on the platter with a clatter) into chaos (in Laos and Barbados), and the audience into a panic (with Papinek and Gromeck and Brodnick). By the way, wasn‘t Gromeck the cop that got killed by spy Paul Newman in Hitchcock‘s Torn Curtain? Or was that Brodnick?

The DVD Wrap: The Karate Kid, Beauty and the Beast, The Human Centipede, The Rig, A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Slumber Party Massacre Collection … and more

Tuesday, October 5th, 2010

The Karate Kid

The concept is simplicity itself: The Karate Kid in China, with Will and Jada Pinkett Smith’s way-cool son, Jaden Smith, in the Ralph Macchio role and Jackie Chan in the place once reserved for Pat Morita. Instead of shooting a silver-anniversary version of Karate Kid in Vancouver or a back lot in Culver City – and a quick straight-to-DVD release — the producers elected to roll the dice and stage it in China. The decision might have been influenced by the commercial success of Kung Fu Panda or, more likely, Chinese backers with reasons of their own to showcase their country’s bounty. Either way, it worked.

Smith plays a 12-year-old Detroit boy, Dre, uprooted by his recently widowed mother to Beijing for career purposes. At first, kids at his new school treat Dre as if he had personally convinced the International Olympic Committee that the Chinese gymnastics teams were force-fed anabolic steroids with their daily regimen of Wheaties and dim sum. He’s bullied by members of the local kung fu club and ignored by almost everyone else. While Dre’s knowledge of karate might have impressed classmates in Detroit, it isn’t nearly enough to keep him from being tossed around by the Chinese kids.

For help, he turns to his apartment complex’s maintenance man (Chan), a martial-arts master gone to seed. His methodology requires extreme patience and unquestioned discipline on the part of Dre, who’s deficient in both qualities. It isn’t until Mr. Han takes Dre to a dojo in the spectacularly beautiful mountains and forests a short distance from the capital that the boy begins to understand kung fu is as much a lifestyle as it is a sport.

Naturally, Karate Kid concludes with an exciting series of bouts in a citywide tournament. By that time, however, the movie’s inspirational message has already been delivered. The splendid Blu-ray package includes an interactive map of China, focusing on Beijing, the Great Wall and picturesque Wudang Mountains; “Chinese Lessons,” which offers a primer in the language; a nine-part production diary, hosted by Chan, and making-of featurette; an alternate ending; Justin Bieber music video; a pair of digital copies and a DVD; BDLive and MovieIQ functionality. Rated PG, Karate Kid easily qualifies as a film the whole family can enjoy.

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Beauty and the Beast: Diamond Edition Blu-ray

Every new technology brings with it an expectation of immediate gratification by early adopters. Having spent the money, we want to enjoy our favorite movies and music as the digital gods intended and as quickly as possible. Typically, though, the titles released soonest will have been sent out absent the refinements and features that would take full advantage of the advanced playback units. It explains why “special” editions of movies sometimes are released within a few years or even months of a title’s initial debut.

The addition of supplemental features is always a good excuse to send out new packages, even if they occasionally feel like afterthoughts. Too often, though, the practice smacks of planned obsolescence. Long before anyone could dream of owning a personal copy of a Disney movie, the studio began re-releasing its animated hits in six-year intervals. Brand new prints would be shipped to theaters and, if necessary, reformatted to conform to advances in projection and audio systems. The studio adopted the same practice with its VHS, Beta and DVD releases, each new edition offering more bang for the buck.

If Disney has been slow to release its most valuable properties on Blu-ray, it’s probably because the studio now intends to do things right the first time. The evidence arrives in Diamond editions of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Bambi, Beauty and the Beast and, soon, Fantasia/Fantasia 2000, as well as Platinum editions of Sleeping Beauty and Pinocchio. Disney promises that each title, which will be available for a limited time, will be re-mastered from the original negative (when available) for a 1080p picture and 7.1 soundtrack. (Pinocchio and Sleeping Beauty will go out Diamond next time around, as well.)

It goes without saying that the discs will arrive, as well, with a pile of extras. The Diamond Beauty and Beast package includes the 92-minute extended version, the 85-minute original and an early “storyreel” PIP “experience.” Add to that an extensive audio commentary, with producer Don Hahn and co-directors Kirk Wise and Gary Trousdale; a sing-along track; a fast-play option; deleted scenes; “Beyond Beauty,” a feature-length making-of documentary; standard-format features from previous DVDs; a music video; a look at the Broadway production and music; an interactive game for 2-8 players and “Enchanted Musical Challenge”; sneak peeks; a screen saver; Smart Menu; and BD Live access portal. Beauty and the Beast will make you happy you invested in a Blu-ray.

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The Secret of Kells

Unless one was a member of the Motion Picture Academy’s feature-animation committee or had already seen The Secret of Kells at a film festival, news of its nomination probably was greeted with a, “Huh?” Like fellow finalists Coraline, Fantastic Mr. Fox and The Princess and the Frog, the Irish import didn’t stand a ghost of a chance against, Up. Being noticed at all, however, truly could be considered a victory.

Unlike those larger-budgeted pictures and such also-rans as Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, Astro Boy, Monsters vs Aliens, 9, Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs and Ponyo, there was a very good chance Kells wouldn’t be accorded a decent DVD run, either. After all, there’s no disguising the fact that it’s as much a film to be enjoyed by adults as children and, as such, might not fly off the shelves of video stores.

Tomm Moore’s traditionally drawn Kells has finally arrived, though, and, while it may still be invisible among the big trees, it is well worth finding. That’s especially true for anyone with an interest in Irish history, medieval art and Celtic mysticism. The story is set in the 8th Century, a time when Vikings threatened to overwhelm the civilizations of Ireland and England.

Twelve-year-old Brendan, whose parents were killed in the invasion, is living in the walled monastery of Kells under the supervision of his uncle, the Abbot Cellach (voiced by Brendan Gleeson). Cellach has instilled in the boy both a fear and curiosity of the unknown territory outside the monastery. His opportunity for enlightenment comes with the arrival of an illustrator of illuminated manuscripts, Brother Aidan, who enlists him to find berries for ink. While in the woods outside the monastery, Brendan encounters demon wolves, a fairy, pagan gods and other potential threats to god-fearing souls.

Once his fears are vanquished, Brendan is able to study under Aiden and collaborate on the Book of Kells, which, today, can be viewed at the library of Trinity College. The elaborately drawn images found in The Secret of Kells appear to have been influenced as much by the Gospels as Celtic iconography, Byzantine paintings, the pottery of America’s Pueblo Indians and native art from Asian cultures. Practically every frame can stand as a work of visual poetry and the impression of light passing through page is palpable. The DVD arrives with several interesting making-of featurettes and backgrounders. Kells is a must-see for anyone interested in animation.

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Outsourced: Deluxe Edition

In 2003, NBC fell flat on its face when it attempted to adapt the hit British sitcom, Coupling, for American audiences. It found much greater success in its adaptation of The Office. New this season to the network’s Thursday-night comedy block is Outsourced, which was adapted from a movie about India, shot primarily in and around Mumbai.

While it remains uncertain as to how long the sitcom will last on NBC’s prime-time schedule, I do know it will be given every opportunity to succeed. Even with The Office as its lead-in, the show is up against some very stiff competition. No matter, I can easily recommend seeking out the DVD of the movie, which has been re-released in a “deluxe” edition.

Even if the first two episodes of the sitcom were lifted almost verbatim from John Jeffcoat’s romantic fish-out-water comedy, a distinctly more serious tone that reminds viewers that Outsourced was inspired by the cold realities of life in the current global economy.

Josh Hamilton plays Todd, the manager of a Seattle firm that facilitates the purchase and delivery of novelty items to consumers. One day, he’s told that the company is moving its phone-servicing operation to India, where he’ll train the man taking his place as manager. Moreover, before handing over the responsibility, he’s being required to improve production to a nearly impossible level.

The manager really has no interest in the company or India, beyond the necessity to protect his retirement package. In fact, he’s downright hostile toward his boss back home. The NBC show tempers the manager’s resentment, as well as his company’s cutthroat attitude to its new employees.

Both versions labor to give the Indian employees real personalities and career ambitions, absent the usual Bollywood stereotypes and forever-meddling parents. On TV, though, the same characters also are required to deliver laughs on cue, every 20 seconds or so. The movie benefits, as well, from being shot in the teeming streets of India. As the love interest, a smart and beautiful Indian employee, Asha (Ayesha Darkher), is given far more depth than most women in similar roles.

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The Misfortunates

The Misfortunates, Belgium’s entry in the 2010 Best Foreign Language sweepstakes, goes to great lengths to beg the question, “If it were possible to choose your family, would you ask for a trade?” For 13-year-old Gunther Strobbe that question is anything but rhetorical.

As cute and aware as any boy his age, Gunther was born into a family of unvarnished louts, boozers and miscreants. His mother, a “whore,” took a powder early in his life, leaving Gunther to be raised by his good-for-nothing dads and uncles. His grandmother tries her best to keep him from going with the flow of family tradition, but she’s overmatched by her overgrown and unabashedly lazy sons.

Gunther loves his family, even if he understands how much better off he’d off be living at a boarding school. He even respects their dubious achievements: setting a world record for beer consumption, winning naked bike races and singing obscure drinking songs. The Strobbes aren’t alone in their daily celebration of debauchery, though. Homegrown alcoholics appear to outnumber solid citizens, 2 to 1. Just as Gunther reaches the point of no return in his adolescence, a social worker places him in a facility where other kids won’t judge him by his relatives’ antics and he won’t be ridiculed for doing his homework.

Flash ahead to adulthood, when Gunther is confronted with a familiar dilemma. After impregnating his girlfriend, a genetic predisposition to cut and run is revealed. His decision not only will determine his future as a writer and un-conflicted human being, but also the lives of the young woman and their child, who would inherit the Strobbe curse. Felix Van Groeningen adapted The Misfortunates from a best-selling novel by Dimitri Verhulst, whose books are informed by a childhood spent in foster homes and institutions.

His characters make Judd Apatow’s creations look like the Rover Boys. The Misfortunates easily qualifies as a comedy, but there are times when you’ll be ashamed of yourself for laughing at the indignities of life among the Strobbes.

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The Human Centipede
The Rig
30 Days of Night: Dark Days
A Nightmare on Elm Street
The Slumber Party Massacre Collection
The Evil/Twice Dead

Critics and fanboys, alike, had a field day with The Human Centipede (First Sequence), an example of torture porn so twisted and depraved that unsuspecting test audiences found it difficult to stay in their seats and only in a handful of American theaters would take a chance on it. Reviews were split almost down the middle as to its worthiness as an entertainment, with Roger Ebert going so far as to eschewing the star system as being inadequate to the task at hand.

Actually, Hostel and Saw are far more graphic, at least when it comes to depictions of amputations and surgery. The horror in Human Centipede is far more cerebral. The more one thinks about the concept of a human centipede, the uglier and more distressing it becomes.

Dutch director Tom Six‘s story begins familiarly enough, with a mad scientist (Dieter Laser, who resembles an insect) rounding up hostages to be used in a surgical experiment. We learn that he’s brilliant, especially in the area of separating conjoined twins, and guess that he’s a closet Nazi. His dream is to attach people front to rear, by removing the ligaments that would allow them to stand and run, while also suturing mouths to rectums.

The new humanoid creature, comprised of two American girls and a Japanese man, would be given a common digestive system and be required to skitter across surfaces on all fours. We hope police will arrive in time to prevent the vivisection, but are given no reason to think they will. (I found it impossible not to flash on the Milwaukee police officers who discovered the horrible contents of Jeffrey Dahmer’s refrigerator.)

In my opinion, movies that prompt great debate in the media are rarely as shocking or controversial as pundits make them out to be. The argument almost always boils down to First Amendment rights of expression and censorship issues. In Human Centipede, though, the image is so disturbing that repeating, “it’s only a movie, it’s only a movie, it’s only a movie,” does help soften the blow. And, of course, no one’s holding a gun to the head of any viewers, forcing them to witness such an atrocity … however fake. A planned sequel reportedly could include a human centipede segmented 12 ways. The DVD package adds a deleted scene, rehearsal footage, making-of material and an interview with the director.

Made months before the massive oil spill off Louisiana, but only released direct-to-DVD this week, The Rig offers a perfectly plausible diagram for disaster on an offshore drilling rig: piss off the Creature From the Black Lagoon’s salt-water cousin and see what happens. Like the crew members stranded on the “Charlie” platform in Peter Atensio’s goofball thriller, it’s possible the BP crew was too distracted by an undersea creature to notice their rig was about to explode.

The rest, of course, is history. Veteran character actor William Forsythe is the only actor I recognized in The Rig, suggesting just how little money was expended on the project. The other big clue is the scuba-suit costume worn by the actor playing the creature, who spends less time on the screen than the opening credits. Otherwise, the movie’s plot is textbook horror: strand a bunch of people in an enclosed space and prompt someone or something to begin picking them off one-by-one. By the time the assassin’s identity and motivations are revealed, only the fittest will have survived to battle the monster.

Unfortunately, The Rig offers precious little else in the way of explanation for the attacks. The monster just is. … If its makers had anticipated the oil spill, The Rig could have exploited BP’s lack of foresight and readiness, and sicced the creature against company executives. Only younger teens are likely to get a charge from The Rig, which is rated “R” primarily for an extended shower scene, which they won’t mind seeing, either.

A year after the population of Barrow, Alaska, was obliterated by vampires in 30 Days of Night, the lone survivor moves to California to exact revenge on the invaders for killing her husband. This time around, Kiele Sanchez has taken over the role of Stella from Melissa George and Mia Kirshner has replaced Danny Huston as the boss bloodsucker.

Dark Days takes place in a pre-True Blood universe, in which vampires are everywhere but most Americans refuse to accept their existence. So, along with a handful of believers, Stella takes it upon herself to save the world from another, even lower budget sequel to 30 Days of Night. The Blu-ray edition of Dark Days adds commentary, a backgrounder featurette and “Graphic Inspirations: Comic to Film,” which follows the creative process that originated in graphic-novel form.

When he isn’t producing and directing mega-budget popcorn flicks, Michael Bay keeps busy supervising the creation of contemporary re-makes of classic slasher/horror pictures, including The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street.

Besides the fact that these aren’t pictures that are crying out to be re-made – neither was Rob Zombie’s Hallloween – Bay’s choice of mostly untested feature directors suggests he’s conducting some kind of a boot camp for filmmakers. Nightmare director Sam Bayer, for example, cut his teeth on videos for such artists as Nirvana, Green Day and Metallica. Here, Oscar nominee Jackie Earle Haley plays Freddy Krueger, he of the knifed hands, and Rooney Mara (Lisbeth Salander, in the Hollywood remake of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo) is Nancy Thompson.

The Blu-ray edition adds an alternate opening and ending; deleted scenes; the featurette “Freddy Krueger Reborn”; Maniacle Movie Mode; and a digital copy.

Shout! Factory’s series of upgraded Roger Corman Cult Classics continues apace with the Slumber Party Massacre trilogy and a double-feature of The Evil and Twice Dead. First released in 1983, the Slumber Party films illustrate what it took to be a drive-in classic in the waning days of the genre and outdoor venues. In addition to the many pretty girls who weren’t shy about taking off their tops when asked, there was an escaped mental patient with a power tool, clueless parents and a wolfpack of horny boys.

The slumber party needs no explanation. Ironically, the first installment – written by Rita Mae Brown and directed by Amy Holden Jones—was intended as a quasi-feminist parody of teen-slasher films. The producers decided, however, to leave parodies to Mel Brooks and accentuate the boobs, blood and lesbian undertones. In the first sequel, Crystal Bernard takes over for party-survivor Courtney Bates, who can’t shake nightmare premonitions of an Elvis wannabe “driller killer” returning to finish the job. SPM3 opens with a beach volleyball game, but the action moves to a slumber party. None of the movies could be confused with art, but, as campy entertainment goes, the trilogy is a great diversion.

Haunted-house thrillers The Evil and Twice Dead are paired in a separate “Cult Classics” release. In the former, a psychologist played by Richard Crenna purchases an antebellum home, which, of course, is already inhabited by, that’s right, Satan. Mayhem ensues when rehabbers inadvertently unlock the doors to his prison. In Twice Dead, a family inherits a mansion once owned by a famous actor. Before moving in, the new owners are required to deal with a street gang and the actor’s ghost. All of the titles in the Corman DVD series arrive with a full complement of bonus features, commentary and interviews.

Also from Shout! Factory come new double-feature editions in its series about the giant, flying, fire-breathing turtle, Gamera. At this point in long-running Japanese franchise, the producers have begun to cater to its loyal audience of kids, who can identify with the increased use of younger characters. The packages include Gamera Vs. Guiron/Gamera Vs. Jiger and Gamera Vs. Gyaos/Gamera Vs. Viras. The freshly polished movies arrive in English- and Japanese-language versions.

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The Last of the Mohicans: Director’s Definitive Cut: Blu-ray

Michael Mann‘s gorgeous and exciting adaptation of James Fenimore Cooper‘s The Last of the Mohicans arrives on Blu-ray in a “Director’s Definitive Cut,” which is a new distinction to me. Among other nuances, most of which I wouldn’t recognize if a tomahawk flew past my ear, the new edition is several minutes longer than the original and several minutes shorter than the first director’s-cut DVD.

What remains is the beauty of the Smoky Mountains locations and Mann’s earnest attempt not only to be faithful to the novel, but also to the spirit of the Native Americans upon whom it was based. To this end, Mann also cast Native American actors, such as Wes Studi and Eric Schweig, and activists Dennis Banks and Russell Means, in key roles.

A totally buff and athletic Daniel Day-Lewis plays a Playgirl-approved version of Hawkeye, the American settler raised by the Mohicans, who would be enlisted by the colonists as a guide and protector of British womanhood in upstate New York. (Mann changed his given name from Natty Bumppo to Nathaniel Poe to avoid snickering by rubes in the audience.)

Russell Means plays his Mohican companion, Chingachgook. The movie also attempts to present hand-to-hand fighting as it might have looked and sounded in real combat. It’s an amazing re-creation. The Blu-ray edition, which also looks and sound terrific, adds Mann’s commentary and a making-of featurette with new interviews with Day-Lewis.

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Rust
Hand in Hand

Of all the original cast members of L.A. Law, Corbin Bernsen probably has enjoyed the most productive afterlife on television and it the movies. His lascivious lawyer, Arnie Becker, may have been an archetypal character, but Bernsen has moved beyond it to play a wide variety of people in projects large and minute.

In the last five years, he’s also been active behind the camera as a director, writer and producer. He does a little bit of everything in Rust, as well. The protagonist is a minister who gave up on his small town life in Canada to wander the secular desert in search of God. He returns home 30 years later to comfort his best friend, who’s confessed to setting a fire that killed an entire family. Naturally, Bernsen’s lapsed minister finds clues that could lead to the man’s acquittal, if only someone in the small town would listen. Suffice it to say, Moore´s faith pulls both men through the ordeal.

Originally released in 1960, Hand in Hand tells the story of two 7-year-old friends — the Jewish Rachel (Loretta Parry) and Catholic Michael (Philip Needs) – who must learn at far too early an age how to cope with religious prejudice and outright bigotry. Unlike their elders, the kids open their minds to the other’s religious ceremonies and traditions. To escape their small-town confines, they embark on a dream journey to Africa in a dinghy, and, not surprisingly, it doesn’t last very long. Instead, it becomes another test of faith.

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Human Target: The Complete First Season
Ugly Americans: Volume 1
Scrubs: The Complete Ninth and Final Season
Bill Burr: Let It Go Bill Burr: Let It Go

In the Fox action series Human Target, protagonist Christopher Chance represents the kind of endangered super-agent who can crack a joke, slip a knot and pinch a fanny with equal aplomb, while bullets whistle past his ears and his car barrels down a cliff. As played by the handsome blond hunk Mark Valley – the ex-marine lawyer on Boston Legal – the character appeals as much to women viewers as males … or should.

Chance is a private security contractor whose job it is to protect clients from assassination. In the original comic-book version of the story, Chance would morph into his clients, a trick that could look silly on TV. Fox moved the show to Friday nights this season, a move that’s generally regarded to be the kiss of death for a series. There’s no reason for late-comers not to sample the first 12 episodes, though. Adding to the enjoyment are eccentric supporting characters played by Chi McBride, Jackie Earle Haley and Emmaunelle Vaugier. The set includes a pair of making-of featurettes, pilot commentary and a gag reel.

Comedy Central’s animated horror-comedy series Ugly Americans,could hardly have been any stranger. The show follows a social worker at New York’s Department of Integration, as he helps new citizens – human, alien, horrific and angelic – get accustomed to their new home. On the small screen, the mélange of mutants and misfits can be difficult to absorb, but, truth to tell, this is how the Big Apple must look to people from North Dakota. Given the proclivities and appendages of some of the characters, Ugly Americans is definitely not for the kiddies.

It’s always difficult to say goodbye to an old friend, especially one that’s been put through the ringer for most of the last nine years. That’s how long it took to kill Scrubs, a series more beloved by audiences than the network executives who never quite knew when to schedule it. That’s how it is when nearly the entire cast of characters can be described as offbeat and storylines often blur the line between tragedy and surrealism. Scrubs, which began as an ABC project but debuted on NBC, ended its run back on ABC. In the final season, J.D. returned to teach at Sacred Heart’s medical school, where he was surrounded by new faces and very different story lines. The package includes deleted scenes, bloopers and a segment, “live from the golf cart.”

Road-warrior comic Bill Burr says realized a longtime dream when he was booked into the Fillmore Theater for his recent Comedy Central concert. Not only does the Massachusetts native spend 300 nights a year in the clubs, but he also is a regular on the Opie & Anthony Show, has a weekly podcast and can be found on every social network on the planet. Addition material includes “I’m Blind”/”Thank You,” outtakes and “The Monday Morning Podcast.”

Red Vs Blue: The Recollection Collection represents five hours worth of episodes from Seasons 6-8, a pair of mini-series, special videos and behind-the-scenes footage. Also included are audio commentary, special videos and PSA’s, deleted scenes, outtakes, interviews and visual effects breakdowns.