Home Improvement
is a classic example of a television series that defines its audience early on
and then gives that subset more of what it has grown to love, while also adding
enough small character wrinkles to keep things legitimately fresh and moving
forward. The show was originally rooted in the gruff, “guys’ guy” stand-up
comedy of star Tim Allen — part of a spate of pilot production deals handed out
to up-and-coming comedians in the early 1990s — but anyone who followed the
series in its later years will attest that only the most trace amounts of that
edge remained. Instead, Home Improvement
grew into the equivalent of a pine tree — a dependable if unspectacular small
screen laffer with not quite the majesty of an oak, the delicious novelty of an
apple or lemon tree nor the mannered beauty of a willow tree.

For those unfamiliar with the Detroit-set show, Allen stars
as Tim Taylor, the affable, pun-loving host of a Bob Villa-type, do-it-yourself
television program called Tool Time.
His faithful co-host is Al Borland (Richard Karn), and his long-suffering wife
is Jill (Patricia Richardson). Together, they preside over a brood of three
rambunctious sons (with an irritating nine names between them — Zachery Ty
Bryan, Jonathan Taylor Thomas and Taran Noah Smith), and live next door to a
rarely glimpsed neighbor, Wilson (Earl Hindman), who dispenses nuggets of
advice that help, when necessary, steer the perpetually mishap-making Tim
toward compromise and apology.

Highlights from the series’ fifth season find Tim joining Jill’s book club just to outdo one of her classmates, Tim installing a home security system that drives everyone crazy and Jill taking a liking to psychology and doling out advice left and right. Taylor Thomas’ Randy, meanwhile, gets voted “Best Butt” at school. Home
Improvement, like many of its familial sitcom brethren, sometimes stoops a bit too
often to the overly simplified husband-as-idiot routine, and the requisite “very special episode” (in this case “The Longest Day,” which teases the possibility that Randy may have cancer) falls flat. Still, the characters
are nicely sketched and rather warmly brought to life by both Allen and especially
Richardson, who would pick up the third of four unfulfilled Emmy nominations
for her work this season. Episodic highlights include “Advise and Repent,” “The Look,” “Doctor in the House” and the roundabout titled
“Engine and a Haircut, Two Fights.” Guest stars herein include Marla Sokoloff and Miguel Sandoval.

Presented in 1.33 full screen with audio in Dolby digital
2.0 stereo, Home Improvement: The
Complete Fifth Season comes spread out over three discs in a cardboard slipcase that houses the set’s sturdy gatefold packaging.
Unfortunately, though, the only bonus material comes by way of a brief, season-specific blooper
reel, at least some of which fans will no doubt recognize from Dick Clark’s
visit to the set for his blooper-laden specials. C+ (Series) B
(Disc)

After taking moviegoers underwater and down to ground level,
as well as into the realms of toys, monsters and superheroes, Pixar Animation
Studios hits the open road with Cars, long a passion project of
company CEO John Lasseter, who here jumps back behind the “camera” and
directs for the first time since 1999’s Toy Story 2. The tale of a
hotshot rookie race car who discovers the value of friendship and life in the
slow lane when he’s stranded in a small desert town en route to an important
race, the movie is colorful and for the most part enjoyable, but its
bloated running time and somewhat abstractly sentimental tenor might somewhat mitigate
youthful enjoyment, particularly of the repeat viewing variety.


An
accident along the way shakes Lightning free from his trailer, and — since race
cars don’t have headlights — he finds himself lost. His situation becomes a
more fixed detour when, after a high-speed chase that tears up the sleepy,
abandoned town of Radiator Springs, Lightning is sentenced by Doc Hudson
(voiced by Paul Newman), himself secretly an old race car, to fix up and
re-pave the streets he has damaged. Resentful at first, and panicked to get to
California as quickly as possible, Lightning slowly comes to appreciate the
town’s denizens, including local attorney Sally Carrera (voiced by Bonnie
Hunt), a curvaceous Porsche; sociable tow truck Mater (voiced by Larry the
Cable Guy); and emotional tire shop owner Luigi (voiced by Tony Shalhoub), a
1959 Italian Fiat.

As
is typical of Pixar’s efforts, the animation on display in Cars is
jaw-droppingly impressive, approaching photorealism at times. Even more
astutely, those who have traversed I-40 or the old Route 66 on cross-country
drives will likely recognize specific landmarks and geographical formations.
This attention to intricate detail elevates the material and helps rescue a few
passages that might otherwise be characterized as dramatically inert. The
characters, too, grow on you. While it takes some getting used to the
imposition of human eyes and lids on windshields — and the absence of humans
seems a bit too Christine, never fully explained — the various
collisions of personality that the movie draws out make for some fun scenes.

Where
Cars bogs down some is in its too-brawny opening (all dialed-up
sound mix) and pointedly nostalgic but somewhat malingering efforts to play
up the then-versus-now changes in lifestyle (can we please retire for a bit the
obligatory montage with a Randy Newman song?). Amidst a competitive animated
summer slate this season — including the underrated Over the
Hedge — Cars pulled in $244 million, just under the $260 million domestic take of The Incredibles. Its G rating,
compared to that film’s PG, certainly helped, but it came up short of the blockbuster haul of Finding
Nemo (which pulled in $340 million), in part because the
“life lessons” learned in Cars play more to adult sensibilities.

Disney’s DVD release — which is available in separate 2.39:1 anamorphic widescreen and full screen single-disc, foil-embossed editions — comes in an impressively high bit-rate transfer that showcases fantastic character rendering, eye-popping color and deep, consistent blacks. Two audio tracks, in Dolby digital 2.0 surround and Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound EX, anchor the aural front. The supplemental features kick off with One-Man Band, the four-minute Pixar effort that preceded Cars in theaters, followed by a seven-minute animated short, Mater and the Ghostlight, that gives extra run to Larry the Cable Guy’s chatty character.

Lasseter then sits for a 16-minute featurette on the inspiration for the film, which delves into his childhood memories on Route 66. Rounding things out are four deleted scenes in rough form, totaling about 10 minutes. While slight when compared to the stuffed slate of many Disney animated titles — maybe a result of Disney and Pixar’s contentious contract renewal negotiations, and thus perhaps auguring a double-disc, anniversary double-dip further down the line — this release is no slouch, certainly qualitatively in terms of its visual presentation. Ranking somewhat to the low end of Pixar’s body of work
is no great shame, too, given the quality of that canon. But that’s the reality of
comparison. The world of Cars feels a bit less lively, spry and inherently
interesting than the worlds of the Toy Story movies, even though it’s
just as lovingly sketched and populated. B (Movie) B- (Disc)

ceaselessly replicating the past.
We were talking about films, but the argument can extend easily to historically-rooted,
narrative fiction, as well as sculpture and virtually all other art. He’s much
more of a futurist, and thus enamored with speculative works — films, books and
series that take past lessons of humanity and extrapolate forward. It’s an
essential component of the vicarious human experience, though, I think, slipping
back into another time to witness or experience past events both major and trivial.
It breeds empathy and perspective, I would argue. All of which brings us to something
like Battle of the Brave.

Set against the sweeping outdoor backdrop of mid-18th century
Quebec, the film is a tale of
wartime passion and sacrifice — elements that certainly resonate in today’s anxious
times. When Canada
is besieged by British forces, two lovers fearlessly risk everything in an
effort to protect both the freedom of their homeland as well as the bonds of their
own devotion. Poor single mother Marie-Loup Carignan (Noémie Godin-Vigneau) is
madly in love with French-Canadian trapper Francois (David La Haye). After
Francois discovers that local French authorities are in cahoots with the
British, however, he becomes a resistance leader, a course of action which
naturally endangers everything which he and Marie hold dear.

If the most basic and stripped bare elements of the plot
faintly recall the Mel Gibson-starring The
Patriot, more bloodthirsty viewers will surely be disappointed. Gorgeously
shot by Louis de Ernsted — who also lensed Luc Dionne’s under-regarded Aurore — Battle of the Brave is a far more ruminative and naturalistic work,
concentrating on the difficulties of everyday life that filter down from macro
decision-making rather than brutal battle. Large passages of the film work, certainly
aided by a talented international cast (Gerard Depardieu, Tim Roth, Jason
Isaacs, Colm Meaney and Irene Jacob) that holds your attention. But Pierre
Billon’s screenplay leans too often on stodgy speechifying and on-the-nose monologues
to advance plot rather than some form of definitive action. Céline Dion pops up
to contribute “Ma Nouvelle France”
to the soundtrack, which is admirably anchored by Sense and Sensibility composer Patrick Doyle’s stirring score.
Overall, though, this is a taxing affair (143 minutes) more evocative to the
eyes than the heart.

Battle of the Brave
is presented in 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language 5.1
Dolby digital surround sound audio track and optional English subtitles. There
are unfortunately no supplemental extras on the disc, making this title an
uphill Battle
for those hardcore arthouse set. C+ (Movie) C- (Disc)

I know what you’re thinking: “What in holy hell — a movie about the avian flu?” You bet your sweet ass. And so is every bit as deliciously awful and willfully ripped-from-the-headlines as its title makes it sound, is it Atomic Train-level awful? Well… yes, and not quite, respectively.

In its review at the time of its original broadcast, The Hollywood Reporter noted that, “Fatal Contact: Bird Flu in America is so disturbingly timely it
adds to its impact, but even without any contextual backdrop, it’s an
exceptionally well-produced (by exec producers Diana Kerew and Judith Verno and
producer Dennis A. Brown), -written (by Ron McGee) and -directed (by Richard
Pearce) cautionary tale that’s more than worthy of its sweeps scheduling.” I’ll
be honest, that strikes me as a very awkwardly constructed sentence, and
slightly irritating given the pay rate for such a piece. The litany of factual credits notwithstanding, that sentence does briefly touch on something else that’s correct — the movie is well designed to hit all its sweeps-market beats, and in robust fashion.

Fatal Contact, which originally aired on ABC in May of
this year, tells the story of the rapid spread of the HN51 virus (aka bird flu)
after one man is infected during a trip to Hong Kong. As
the virus spreads, the stakes become more deadly when it mutates into a strain
than can be passed from human to human. Dr. Iris Varnack (Nip/Tuck‘s Joely Richardson)
begins the quest to keep the virus contained while the grim and dour Secretary of Health and
Human Services (Stacey Keach, of Prison Break) works the levers of national power, and a New York Health Department nurse (Six Feet Under‘s Justina Machado) dedicated to her job and her soldier husband who supports her wage the fight on the
front lines.

The aforementioned McGee’s script naturally embraces the
worse-case scenario if the bird flu were to be transmitted to humans in America (the governor of Virginia mistakenly call for urban quarantine, resulting in riots and looting), but any sort of devotion to realism gives way fairly quickly to demands for ridiculous action and suspense set-ups that are dubiously or tangentially related to the chief conceit. Director Pearce (No Mercy) stages a few nicely executed scenes of shoestring mayhem and hysteria, but otherwise the movie’s set-ups are almost always massively contrived in some way or another, and so the air-quote drama feels hopelessly compartmentalized. Richardson has a face I could stare at for a good two hours before getting bored, so that helps matters, but the rest of the cast — which includes Ann
Cusack (Grey’s Anatomy), David Ramsey (All of Us) and Scott Cohen — is mostly B-grade, and the simple fact of the matter is that Fatal Contact isn’t as deliciously bad (and therefore ripe for fun) as its premise and title might suggest. It’s actually just kind of shrug-inducing.

Presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, Fatal Contact comes packaged in a regular, plastic Amray case, with no supplemental features save a couple trailers for The Da Vinci Code and other titles. C- (Movie) D- (Disc)

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