Author Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code
has captivated millions of readers since publication, and its big
screen adaptation, starring Tom Hanks, stands poised to do the same
this summer. But The Watchword Bible seeks to tap into an even bigger and more dedicated community: a Christian constituency looking for some faith-based Da Vinci Code counter-programming.

The Bible
was written over a period of many hundreds of years, by more than 30
different authors. Standing in starkest contrast to some of the
theoretical postulations of The Da Vinci Code is the Book of Acts, scripted by Luke circa 63 A.D. The Watchword Bible
is spread out over 10 separate discs, but it’s this book that most
centrally examines the days following the crucifixion and death of
Jesus of Nazareth.

Narrated by Don Wadsworth, The Watchword Bible is, in
reality, an interesting act of straddling the line between
proselytizing and entertainment. Simply put, it offers forth a sort of
picture-book realization of the Scripture. Large-type white text —
alternating with the color yellow, which indicates spoken quotes within
the passages — unfolds serenely over thematically linked pastoral and
historical city shots. There are no Unsolved Mystery-style dramatic reenactments or desultory silent acting. Indeed, The Watchword Bible
doesn’t personalize Caiaphas, John, Peter or Alexander, and it
generally eschews humans entirely in favor of more scenic and
picturesque environments.

The end result is oddly both emotionally distancing and
slightly fascinating and mesmerizing, just because of how different an
experience it is. For those who chafe at reading and find Biblical
texts particularly taxing on their focus or attention, The Watchword Bible
and its convenient chapter stops allow for viewing in bite-sized
morsels. Viewed in this manner, or even wholesale, the stories have an
extra layer of magnitude when you allow them to be dictated to you. For
those hungry for more information about the apostles secret meetings
after Jesus’ death and other mysteries of that era, The Watchword Bible offers an interesting new way to explore and grapple with these age-old questions.

Though not yet available at traditional retailers, The Watchword Bible
comes housed in regular Amray cases like other DVD releases, and is
presented in full screen with an English mono audio track, though there
are unfortunately no supplemental extras. A more mainstream commercial
release may be timed to The Da Vinci Code’s own DVD bow later this fall. B- (Movie) C- (Disc)

The explosion in popularity of the DVD format has created a new set of both opportunities and challenges for studios eager to exploit their back catalogues. For every comprehensive set like Warner Bros.’ recent Bette Davis Collections, there’s another — or, truth be told, probably three or four — weirdly cobbled together affairs, a rationalized way for studios to justify the cost of releasing marginal or niche titles. Ladies and gentlemen, meet 20th Century Fox’s Robert Altman Collection.

Altman has always been known as a bit of an iconoclast, a savvy corruptor of studio policy and preference. Actors love him because his films are partly mapped out, partly of-the-moment discovered treasures, yet this makes for not only tremendous financial risk, generally speaking, but also a filmography as hit-and-miss as it is narratively diverse. Any representative career sampling, then, is bound to include some highs and lows, even within the same movie. A quartet of diverse flicks makes up this Robert Altman Collection; two are rated R, two are rated PG. The biggest hit of the bunch, 1970’s Best Picture Oscar nominee M*A*S*H, is the odd film out here, and in some ways the least essential, or at least the least related to the rest of the lessons this set teaches us.

Starring Mia Farrow, Lauren Hutton, Carol Burnett, Desi Arnaz, Jr. and silent film legend Lillian Gish, 1978’s A Wedding evidences the director’s abiding love of shaggy ensembles over all else, telling the story of a handsome rogue and blushing bride-to-be whose nuptials are intersected by an obsessed wedding planner, a drunken doctor, meddling relatives and a beleaguered priest. A few moments pop out, but the movie is overall terribly self-indulgent and meandering. A Perfect Couple, from the following year, is a relationship companion piece of sorts, in that Altman cooked up the nascent idea of two young lovers (Marta Heflin and Paul Dooley) tripping through an unusual courtship on the aforementioned film. Formless and just as sprawling, at 111 minutes, it’s a movie that doesn’t live up to its title, but it does score points for astutely predicting the ascendancy of computer dating services.

Those wondering why Paul Newman doesn’t or didn’t do more science-fiction movies, meanwhile, will find their answer in 1979’s Quintet. The salad dressing and popcorn pitchman stars alongside Brigitte Fossey in a film billed as “one man against the world,” no doubt an attempted evocation of his Cool Hand Luke character. Thing is, this is just a weird, weird film. Set against a windswept, post-apocalyptic Ice Age, its characters all live to play — like, literally — a backgammon-inspired board game, created just for the Montreal-shot movie, in which the loser is then murdered. As the brooding Essex, Newman looks mightily unhappy under his Davy Crockett coonskin cap and fur-meets-burlap rags, and not without cause. The bizarre incongruity of it all carries you along for about 20 minutes, but that unfortunately still leaves 100 minutes more. “The thrill is just the magic of it, of making someone sit in their chair for two hours and be curious,” explains Altman in an interview featurette at film’s end. Well, Bob, the sitting, yes. The rest… not so much.

Altman’s audio commentary track, a still photo gallery and the AMC Backstory episode on the film complement the M*A*S*H disc, but the real, if adjusted and to-scale, windfall lies in brief featurettes on the other films that include up-to-date interviews with Altman, his prop master/production designer son Stephen, editor Dennis Hill and others from his steadfastly loyal production team. They’re remarkably frank and wide-ranging, and give crystalline insight into the auteur’s reasoning and thought processes, even if the final product doesn’t meet its intended mark. For filmmakers as risk takers, Altman is an emboldening, sterling example. To purchase the DVD set via Amazon, click here. C (Movies) B (Discs)

No disrespect, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel
fans, but David Boreanaz is one of those of those actors who, if he
hadn’t gotten his big break on the small screen, couldn’t sniff a role
as a lead in a theatrical feature. His eyes limpid pools of
sensitive-guy yearning, his chest properly Soloflex-toned, Boreanaz is
most successful because he’s an empty vessel for (mostly female)
audience projection. Absent a compelling serial arc, though, or a
strong authorial presence in the form of puppet master like Joss
Whedon, you’re left with nothing more than a blank canvas, as the wan,
butt-baring, Canadian sexual comedy These Girls evidences.

Provincial
girls Keira St. George (Caroline Dhavernas) and baseball-loving Jesus
freak Lisa McDougall (Holly Lewis) catch their friend Glory Lorraine
(Amanda Walsh) in the sack one evening with Keith Clark (Boreanaz), a
scruffy, married pot-grower with a young infant and a wife whose
night-shift schedule as a nurse affords him plenty of unsupervised
recreational time. Their own burgeoning sexual curiosity piqued, they
each in turn seduce Keith. Glory finds out and is furious, but the
three eventually find salvaged accord in a unique “joint custody”
program in which they share bed time with him.

Written and directed by John Hazlett, These Girls ascribes
arbitrary traits to its characters, particularly the underwritten
Keith, who wows one girl by… pulling a knife on some 13-year-olds who
are non-threateningly heckling another kid. Wow, how chivalrous! The
movie tries to mine comedy from Keith’s sexual weariness, but it
doesn’t really work. The fetching Dhavernas (who would also turn in
good work in the unfortunately short-lived Wonderfalls) is by
far the best of the three actresses, but none of them really
convincingly pass for teenagers — the use of posed cigarettes and
retainers for props notwithstanding — and horrible voiceover narration
only further highlights the parade of obviousness already on display. A
desultory score is credited to Ned Bouhalassa, Peter Hay and Polo,
though pop act Tegan and Sara’s “Walking with a Ghost” provides a pinch
of vibrancy, however brief.

What else… oh, right, the butt-baring.
Yes, Boreanaz drops reverse-trou at one point, and stands prone in his
underwear another time. Didn’t do much for me personally, but there you
have it, ladies.
The film is presented in a clear, 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen
transfer, with no grain or discoloration that sometimes mar independent
releases. English 2.0 stereo and English Dolby digital 5.1 audio mixes
ably complement the visuals, but there are no additional bonus
features, save some preview trailers for other Ardustry releases. D (Movie) C- (Disc)

The
idea of a sketch comedy show with Jim Carrey, Chris Rock and Jamie Foxx
is enough to send shivers of anticipation running through most folks,
but it’s already happened, about a dozen years ago on the fifth season
of In Living Color. That reunion would cost you, what, around
$35 million right off the top these days? And that’s not even counting
David Alan Grier and his Ambien prescription.

An unruly, irreverent half-hour show, In Living Color
was the brainchild of Keenan Ivory Wayans, and it was the perfect match
for the upstart Fox Network. By the fall of 1993 and into ’94, Keenan,
his brother Damon and his sister Kim had all departed — the result of
various contract and creative squabbles — but the series still employed
a few original cast members, including Carrey, Grier and Tommy
Davidson, to go along with a new roster that included Alexandra
Wentworth, Anne-Marie Johnson, Marc Wilmore, Reggie McFadden and
others. Rock, meanwhile, migrated over from Saturday Night Live to do a bit of part-time night-player work.

This season honestly isn’t the show’s best, as it showcases the
difficulty of sketch comedy in the half-hour format unless comedic
capriciousness is fully embraced, a la David Cross and Bob Odenkirk’s Mr. Show. There’s a funny if too brief African-Americanized send-up of The Mary Tyler Moore Show,
and the idea of a talk show built around the illegitimate black
children of white celebrities — wherein Carrey delivers a perfectly
unctuous turn as Geraldo Rivera — similarly runs out of steam after
just scratching the surface potential of its conceit. These partially
birthed bits are most emblematic of the show’s struggles, but the
series also has a tendency to infuse overt “wackiness” into basically
funny ideas, as it does in Grier’s “Loomis Simmons: Custom Built
Condoms,” about a small businessman/sexual pinch hitter.

Foxx and Tommy Davidson’s recurrent “Ace and the Main Man” sketches,
in which they hold forth as chattering security guards at a variety of
locations, don’t particularly hold up as anything more than unfunny
placeholders for a clutch of celebrity cameos (Tupac’s is refreshing,
though for all the wrong reasons — Johnny Gill’s, not so much). Among
the bits that do sustain an edge are an “Ike Turner &
Hooch” bit, interrupted by fake news coverage of white looting after
the Reginald Denny case verdict, and “Jerry Seinfeld in the Ghetto,” in
which Carrey pontificates: “Projects? Looking at the state of it, I
hope they’re grading on a curve” and, “Why do they call it ‘the hood’?
Is it like the entire city’s a big sweatshirt and that’s the part you
pull over your head? What… is the deal?” Likewise, some of the musical
segments (Us3, Souls of Mischief, Me’Shell NdegeOcello, Leaders of the
New School) are bracing because so there’s so little performance
footage on some of these acts.

Housed on three double-sided discs in slimline cases stored in turn in a cardboard slipcase, all 26 episodes of In Living Color: Season Five
are presented in 1.33:1 full frame, with English 2.0 stereo mix and
optional English and Spanish subtitles. There was some uproar,
previously, over the fact that the DVD releases of the series featured
abridged episodes, trimmed for syndication. The packaging on In Living Color: Season Four
more clearly advertised that fact, but we’re back here to a policy of
don’t ask, don’t tell, and I honestly can’t discern whether or not
these are the condensed versions, though I suspect they are.
Furthermore, there are still no supplemental extras to add additional
value to the set. While it’s obvious that the major headliners (and
even probably Grier) have busy schedules and better things to do with
their time, it’s a shame that some of the series’ writer-producers
weren’t corralled for commentary tracks or retrospective interviews. In Living Color was a trailblazing series in its own right, and while it’s quite nice to get full-season releases (paging Lorne Michaels and Saturday Night Live!), they deserve to go out on a higher, slightly better-packaged note than here. B- (Show) C- (Disc)

French filmmaker Jean-Pierre Jeunet stepped boldly into the arthouse spotlight with Amelié, starring Audrey Tatou, but it was 1991’s Delicatessen,
co-directed with Marc Caro, that authoritatively established his
elaborate visual style and its delicate counterbalancing with gross-out
gags and broader slapstick elements. (Hey, it’s no coincidence that
ex-Monty Python member Terry Gilliam presented the movie’s American
release). Already a deserved cult classic that will find welcome
reception among those who similarly favor Gilliam’s cinematic trinkets,
Delicatessen, with its unusual mix of tones, is worth a look for
those who enjoy their comedy dark and deadpan, but with nonetheless a
pinch of fanciful optimism.

Set in a post-apocalyptic, 21st century Paris where food is scarce (sorry, though, no Kevin Costner), Delicatessen
unfolds chiefly within the confines of a single apartment complex owned
by a man named Clapet (Jean-Claude Dreyfus), who also operates the
downstairs butcher shop. Bartering with locals for other goods and
services, Clapet keeps everyone fed by cycling through and chopping up
a steady stream of drifters who take work in his dilapidated deli. The
latest to answer his newspaper ad is a pliant young former circus
clown, Louison (Dominique Pinon), who is, of course, completely unaware
that Clapet plans to serve him up to the building’s bizarre coterie.
Things change when the butcher’s nearsighted daughter Julie
(Marie-Laurie Dougnac), who buys two of everything to stave off all the
inevitable accidents that befall her, falls for Louison and goes to
abundant lengths to systematically foil her father’s plans.

Jeunet and Caro devised the story with comic book writer Gilles
Adrien, and the latter’s exaggerated sense of action definitely helps
inform the movie’s unique sensibility. The performances are all top
notch, impressing an air of theatricality upon the filmmakers’ definite
humanist leanings. Delicatessen teases up the absurdity of its
cannibalistic premise to dizzying heights, and yet also succeeds in
locating the unlikely whimsicality therein.

Housed in a regular Amray case, Delicatessen is presented in
1.85:1 widescreen enhanced for 16×9 televisions, with a Dolby digital
surround sound original language track and optional English and Spanish
subtitles. The transfer captures the darker chocolates, golds, greens
and other murky hues of Jeunet’s frame, and the audio presentation is
leaps and bounds better than the movie’s previous VHS tape
incarnations, allowing for a fuller appreciation of Jeunet’s sterling
sound design, wherein there’s a sound or three for every gag.

Supplemental extras include a French-language audio commentary track
with Jeunet, meaning American audiences will have to double down on the
subtitles to hear his thoughts on Stateside filmmaking and his own
directorial shortcomings. There’s also a 13-minute making-of
featurette, “Fine Cooked Meats,” and around eight minutes of screen
tests, rehearsal footage and the like. The original theatrical trailer
and a collection of other teaser advertising materials rounds out the
disc. B+ (Movie) B (Disc)

If Only Jennifer Love Hewitt would return my calls. If Only Jennifer Love Hewitt would revoke the restraining order against me. Ahh
yes, then we could make beautiful music together… or at least films
with a bit more personality than this anonymous 2004 confection, in
which she stars, co-produces and even performs two songs featured in
the movie.

If I seem to have an unnatural or unbecoming
affinity for “Love,” it’s only because I appreciate her utterly
refreshing self-awareness in an industry where all too often young
actors and actresses fall victim to all sorts of delusion and inflated
grandeur. Pleasant and unaffected, Hewitt exudes both a professional
sense of responsibility and a down-to-Earth charm — she gets
the nature of her appeal (yes, boobs and all) and has fun with it.
She’s a real girl with real curves, real personality and no diva-esque
drama. If only more starlets were like her.

Efficaciously shot on location in London, If Only is a sort of slightly more wishy-washy version of Sliding Doors.
It provides a decently rangy vehicle for Hewitt — who’s quite good,
actually — but there’s little else of dramatic heft here. Hewitt plays
Samantha Andrews, an impetuous American music teacher and aspiring
singer-songwriter living in a tidy English flat with her workaholic
boyfriend Ian Wyndham (Paul Nicholls, out-blanding oatmeal). When he
won’t reward her surprise morning gift of a leather jacket with a
proper boinking, and accompany her on a forthcoming back to the States
to meet her mother, she feels neglected. This and other stressors
eventually lead to a fight and the couple’s near break-up. Shortly
after, that same evening, Samantha is in a horrible car accident (In the Bedroom’s
Tom Wilkinson costars as the fated cabbie) and dies. In the second half
of the movie, a grief-stricken Ian gets a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity to relive the tragic day all over again in the hopes of
changing the events that led up to Samantha’s death. There are kisses
in the rain, of course, but can there be a happy ending for all
involved?

If Only is directed by Gil Junger, a television veteran who made the swing into features with 2001’s Black Knight,
starring Martin Lawrence. It’s decent in terms of general production
value, but definitely shows its ABC Family television movie roots in
the conventional staging and an overly maudlin score from Adrian
Johnston. Hewitt is certainly a welcome sight in her Hanes, and again,
she gets an expansive character arc to enjoy — from love-strung but
ebullient to full-blown teary breakdown, which she conveys surprisingly
movingly. The film’s dramatic track, however, feels wan and
predetermined.

Housed in a regular Amray case, If Only is presented only in
1.33:1 full screen, with an English 5.1 Dolby digital surround sound
track; subtitles in only English and French further blunt the movie’s
international appeal amongst hopeless romantics. If Only there were some supplemental features, even a few EPK-style interview tidbits. C (Movie) D (Disc)

After his Fox sitcom Family Guy
underwent the fitful throes of its initial cancellation, creator Seth
MacFarlane and several writers moved on to a new animated series titled
American Dad!, a show whose kinship was on display for all to
see in the similarly sarcastically doting title. While the former
series has returned to the air stronger than ever, American Dad!
has in turn held on tightly to the coattails of the Griffin family,
while also trying to put an anarchic, post-Sept. 11 comedic spin on the
American family. It’s not cynical posturing, either — MacFarlane was
initially scheduled to be on American Airlines Flight 11 out of Boston,
one of the airplanes that hit the World Trade Center.

American Dad!
centers around Stan Smith (voiced by MacFarlane), a super-conservative
CIA operative whose headstrong dedication to his country leads him to
read everything through Threat Level Red glasses — everyone’s a
terrorist and everything is a potential threat to national security.
His family consists of his wife Francine (voiced by Wendy Schaal); his
brainiac, lockstep son Steve (voiced by Scott Grimes); his daughter
Hayley (voiced by Rachel MacFarlane); and Roger (Seth MacFarlane
again), an alcoholic extraterrestrial living with the family. Yes, you
read that right. Oh, there’s also Klaus (voiced by Dee Bradley Baker),
a snippy goldfish with a German Olympian’s brain.

While its overall penchant for whimsical indulgence is definitely
cut from the cloth of MacFarlane’s other show, some other points of
character comparison are easy. Klaus is obviously to American Dad! what Stewie is to Family Guy,
namely a self-involved voicebox for ankle-nipping asides and
non-sequiturs; Roger, meanwhile, recalls Brian, both in his tipsiness
and status as sardonic family outsider. Tonally, there’s a good bit of
groping in the dark here, as the series oscillates early on between
overtly topical humor and the sort of serial mayhem and silliness (sans
extended chicken fights, however) that is both Family Guy’s
strongest selling point and Achilles heel at times. To me, the
characters aren’t as strongly sketched, but some of its newsworthy
jokes score. Thankfully, as things progress, Francine’s relationship to
Stan and Hayley’s disagreement with her father’s obstinate politics
become more pronounced and better sketched. Still, the show is pretty
out there (in Saudi Arabia, the family is sentenced to death by the
Office of Vice and Virtue), so it’s mostly fans of absurdist tangential
humor who will find something here to enjoy.

MacFarlane’s Family Guy was, of course, legendarily
resuscitated by DVD, and subsequent releases have similarly gone the
extra mile to provide fans with a value-added experience, so it’s no
surprise that this release of American Dad! likewise takes full
advantage of the format. Housed in three slimline cases in a cardboard
slipcase, the series’ 13 episodes are presented in 1.33:1 full screen
with an English 5.1 Dolby surround mix and subtitles in English,
Spanish and French — the latter no doubt particularly disappointing to
Stan.

Genial audio-commentary tracks from MacFarlane and the writers
and voice cast stud all but one episode, and table reads and animatics
are also included.
The real boon, though, comes in the form of a whopping 42 deleted
scenes, totaling around 15 minutes. A making-of featurette, extended
promo spot and more only further extend the set’s exploration and
replay value. Many commercial releases of the DVD will apparently
include a bonus disc, “Family Guy: Off the Cutting Room Floor,”
which includes more than two dozen deleted scenes from the fourth
season of that show. Check your local paper’s fliers and advertisements
for store-to-store availability. C+ (Show) A (Disc)

I just got back from Walking the Bible, and boy are my legs
tired. Hey-O! Is this thing on? Seriously, you should never walk the
Bible without proper footwear. Oh yeah! When Walking the Bible, be sure to hydrate, lest you get stuck in the desert for 40 years, or turned into a pillar of salt. Zing!

Facebook Twitter/X LinkedIn