I was resistant to My Name Is Earl
when it first bowed last fall. I resented the ubiquitous ad campaign,
which seemed to trump the rest of, if not the entirety of that autumn’s
offerings, then certainly the rest of NBC’s schedule in aggregate.
There was a seeming air of arrogance and condescension attached to the
manner in which the show was pitched — “Here’s our new comedy, and by
Jesus, you’re going to like it!” Even if the product itself
isn’t actually detestable, I tend to react negatively to that sort of
from-on-high dictation; it reminds me too much of the hot girl who’s
just more than a little aware of her hotness, and a vacuous
bitch as a result of not having to develop any other qualities of
personal merit. A year later, I’m not completely sold on My Name Is Earl
as the type of mainstream comedy hit that NBC — and many Emmy voters,
coincidentally — envision it as, but there are certain trashy delights
to be found herein.

Nadine Velasquez), that works in the hotel where the pair live. Also
figuring into the proceedings is Earl’s screeching ex, Joy (Jaime
Pressly, always spot-on in purposefully heightened and/or deep-fried
fare like this and Poor White Trash).

The show gets a way with an awful lot for its early time slot
(pedophilia and rape jokes, anyone?), but what holds it together is
Lee, who has a natural, easygoing doofus’ charm. The parade of guest
stars (Jon Favreau, Christine Taylor, Juliette Lewis, Giovanni Ribisi,
Beau Bridges, Missi Pyle and Timothy Olyphant) commences a bit early
for a show of this type (can Ben Stiller be far behind, or Kevin Smith
and Jason Mewes, for that matter?), but I suppose is just further
confirmation of NBC’s infatuation… err, confidence in it.

Spread out over four discs in slimline cases in turn stored in a cardboard slipcase, My Name Is Earl: Season One
is presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen with an English language,
Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track, a nice differentiation
for a sitcom. Optional subtitles in English, Spanish and French are
also available. Exclusive to this DVD set is a 13-minute short, “Bad
Karma,” which proffers an amusing alternate vision of the show’s
conceit — namely, that Earl makes a list of everyone who’s ever screwed
him over and dishes out some cold-case payback. All two dozen episodes
are contained herein, along with eight episodic audio commentaries by
Garcia, various members of the creative team… and, on the Mother’s Day
episode entitled “Dad’s Car,” their mothers. The last bit is a nice,
amusing twist — something I don’t think I’ve seen/heard on a DVD
before. Deleted scenes with optional commentary, an extremely hearty
little blooper reel (20 minutes!) and a 38-minute behind-the-scenes
featurette round out a solid slate of bonus materials. B- (Show) A- (Disc)

Disney has, with movies like Remember the Titans, Miracle, The Rookie, Glory Road and this autumn’s Invincible,
shrewdly positioned itself as the go-to studio for inspirational,
family-friendly sports tales based on true stories, slots that
new-to-DVD releases The Miracle Match and Stick It (below) also for the most part comfortably fit into.

Goal!
trilogy — for which Disney is handling domestic distribution — is the
higher-profile of its two recent soccer releases, director David
Anspaugh’s The Miracle Match tells the story of one of the
greatest upsets in sports history. Set two weeks before the 1950 World
Cup, it centers on a group of rag-tag group of recreational players
from St. Louis and New York chosen to represent their country in
Brazil. Consumed with conflicts — personal, cultural and, more
pressingly, of disparate, clashing pitch style — the players had only a
matter of days to gel and form a team before suiting up against the
British squad, widely regarded as one of the best in the world. Given
to narrative hyperbole and clichéd dialogue, The Miracle Match
is a niche title, a solid rental for hardcore soccer fans but likely
few others. Patrick Stewart is the encouraging coach, narrating the
film from afar, and Wes Bentley (American Beauty) and Gerard
Butler give solid performances. If Anspaugh and screenwriter Angelo
Pizzo, working from a novel by Geoffrey Douglas, don’t quite achieve
the heights of previous collaborations Rudy and Hoosiers,
it’s chiefly because soccer remains an inherently less known and
knowable sport this side of the Atlantic, its action rhythms hopelessly
foreign.

Stick It, on the other hand, isn’t based on a true story, but
does hit many of the same empowering beats we’ve come to expect from
movies of such an ilk, and does it in a colorful enough fashion to
succeed on its own terms. Bring It On screenwriter Jessica
Bendinger takes a directorial dip with the film, utilizing the
too-familiar-by-half narrative template of a talented but rebellious
gymnast, Haley Graham (Missy Peregrym), who returns to the world of
structured competition with the assistance of a no-nonsense new coach,
Burt Vickerman (Jeff Bridges). The rigid rules and spandex-clad,
intra-squad bickering are off-putting to her, but Haley’s love of the
sport eventually resurfaces, and she wins over teammates who hold a
grudge against her for walking out of a competition. Some of the
landings are nicely stuck, others a bit less compellingly so, but for
tween girl audiences Stick It is right in their wheelhouse.

The Miracle Match is presented in 2.40:1 widescreen enhanced
for 16×9 televisions, with Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound, but
unfortunately includes no bonus materials save optional French and
Spanish subtitles. Stick It, meanwhile, comes with a nice slate
of complementary extras to add to its 1.85:1 widescreen presentation.
Thirteen minutes of deleted scenes come with optional commentary from
Bendinger, and the writer-director also sits for two feature-length
audio commentary tracks — one with actresses Peregrym and Vanessa
Lengies, the other with editor Troy Takaki and cinematographer Daryn
Okada. The former is obviously the spunkier and more back-slapping,
while the latter offers more production-oriented tidbits. Featurettes
on floor routines, stunt double gymnastics and the movie’s visual
effects work counterbalance the levity of a three-minute blooper reel
and Missy Elliott’s “We Run This” music video. C (The Miracle Match) C- (Disc) / C+ (Stick It) A- (Disc)