Archie Shepp, then, is sadly bound to be forgotten — or, more to the point, never really known, and fully appreciated. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s one of the last living giants of the 20th century jazz scene, a New York City native and saxophonist who parlayed his talent for avant-garde free association into memorable collaborations with John Coltrane, Cecil Taylor and many more. Both as an instrumentalist and a singer, he is one of the most irresistable interpreters of the genre.
Archie Shepp Band: The Paris Concert provides an hour-and-a-half August, 1994 performance from the New Morning Club in France, and features Shepp alongside skilled ivory tickler Horace Parlan, plus Wayne Dockery and Steve McCraven. Covered nicely are “Revolution,” “Things Ain’t What They Used to Be,” “Ask Me Now,” “Arrival,” “The Reverse,” “Steam,” “Up Phat” and “Sophisticated Lady.” The highlight of the set is probably “Steam,” with its dizzying conflagration of high-end, helter-skelter notes. DVD bonus features include a nice little interview segment and a 21-minute bonus track — “Sweet Bird of Youth,” recorded in 2001 in a collaboration between Shepp’s band and a Moroccan quartet known as Les Gnawas de Tanger. This cross-cultural mash-up, a free-jazz fan’s dream, is almost worth the purchase price alone. For more information on Shepp, visit his eponymous web site. B- (Concert) B+ (Disc)
It’s funny, as much as the technical side of moviemaking has advanced, just how much the art of selling movies has also changed over the past two decades. 1982’s The Seduction heralded star Morgan Fairchild’s arrival in the feature film world, and it
arrives on DVD intact with its original poster text, which reads
thusly: “Alone… terrified… trapped like an animal. Now she’s
fighting back with the only weapon she has… herself!” The back cover, meanwhile, quotes a listing from the All Movie Guide that reads, “An erotic thriller with sex, violence and nudity.”
Brian De Palma’s Body Double, which released two years later and helped make a star out of Melanie Griffith as it also tackled the same sort of topic of voyeurism in the new tech age. The Seduction doesn’t have that film’s bravura camerawork or masterful construction, true, but it’s also a less violent collision of sleaze and high art, whether attempted or achieved. The reason is that writer-director David Schmoeller (Puppet Master) never aims to bite off more than he can comfortably chew. Exposition is exposition, by God, and in place of De Palma’s complicated outdoor tracking shots we’re going to spend more time oogling Fairchild in silk pajamas or something of the like.
Which brings us to the straight rub for which you’re no doubt waiting: does The Seduction score high marks as a softie skin flick? Ehh… so-so, really. Cinematographer Mac Ahlberg shoots a beautiful frame, but the nudity here is mostly of the classy, tantalizing variety. The sex isn’t overt, in other words, save for one third act bump-and-grind — it’s more about peering at Fairchild in the pool or bathtub. Speaking of which, she does look absolutely gorgeous in the movie, though I should point out the above still isn’t from herein.
Anchor Bay’s superlative DVD release of the movie isn’t billed as a special edition, but it does come tricked out with enough of a fine slate of extras that it would easily qualify for such a designation. The 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen presentation is admirably free from grain, and comes with an audio commentary track from Schmoeller and producers Irwin Yablans and Bruce Cohn Curtis. It’s a glad-handing, name-dropping, credit-obsessed affair all the way through, but not without some anecdotal bon mots, such as on the attempted casting of Valerie Perrine and Theresa Russell in the lead role.
Director Michael Apted’s enthralling non-fiction Up series, though, provides just this
sort of overarching view of human life and frailty. Inspired by the old Jesuit
maxim, “Give me the child until he is seven and I will give you the man,” the
series began in 1964 under the watch of filmmaker Paul Almond, with a group of
British children from a wide variety of backgrounds interviewed about their
lives and their dreams for the future. Apted (Nell, The World Is Not Enough),
a researcher on the original film, has returned to interview the same children
every seven years since, at ages 14, 21, 28, 35, 42 and so on. 49 Up is the latest chapter, and it
chronicles more difficult decisions and shocking announcements in both life and
love.
More of the original group than ever before take part in
these proceedings, speaking out on where their choices have taken them. There’s
cab driver Tony, the former knuckle-dusting East Ender who as a kid yearned to
be a jockey; he and his second wife now have a house in Spain, and a peacefully
arrived at middle-class domesticity. Schoolmates Jackie and Sue, meanwhile,
each cope with loneliness; Sue is divorced, Jackie is widowed and stricken with
rheumatoid arthritis, for which her ex-mother-in-law provides her with money.
The remarkable thing about the film is the manner in which
it draws you in to these pedestrian, universal problems, ailments, triumphs and
despairs, blending in footage from the rest of the series but not capitulating
to a boring, straightforward chronological recap. Apted frames the interview
segments tightly enough to let the physical comparisons speak for themselves,
and quite obviously asks just the right sort of off-camera questions to get his
subjects to open up about marriage, class, careers and prejudice. This makes 49 Up an easy pill to swallow for
audiences no matter their point of entry (I’ve missed three in the series), and a pleasant anthropological capsule through and through.
That said, the sheer range and scope of the interview
produces all sorts of interesting bon
mots. Apted, who was but 22 when he started on the series, talks in
forthcoming fashion about what he admits is his “life’s work,” and his
adherence to more universal themes. This includes how he included questions and
a lot of talk about Princess Diana’s death in 42 Up, using it as a sort of critical filter, but removed the bulk
of these bits because they seemed not to hang in concert with the rest of the
pieces. There’s also interesting information about 49 Up being the first film of the project to shoot on digital video,
and Apted and Ebert each astutely strike upon an interesting (and correct) chord
when they talk about the different modes of viewing for the series — and how those who view
the films in large batches typically have, experientially and fundamentally,
different reactions than those who have seen many of the movies piecemeal. For
more information about 49 Up and
First Run’s superlative box set release of the rest of the series, visit www.firstrunfeatures.com,
or purchase either title straightaway through Amazon by clicking here. A-
(Movie) B (Disc)
During recent interviews for Venus, director Roger Michell talked some about new James Bond Daniel Craig, with whom he made 2003’s Mother, and is slated to do another picture… but not an entry in the 007 franchise.
“I very nearly committed to doing
the next Bond movie, and at the final moment I decided not to,” says Michell. “I just felt that
[while] it sounds like an enormous amount of fun, when you look at it
closely it’s a huge, massive supertanker, and to nudge it half a degree off its
prescribed course takes superhuman effort. And I felt that it was probably more
difficult than I initially thought to do that. We couldn’t really agree on how
the script should develop, that’s the easy answer.”
This means bad news and a likely tough decision for Martin Campbell, who in addition to directing Casino Royale helmed 1995’s Bond entry GoldenEye, plus The Mask of Zorro and its 2005 sequel, The Legend of Zorro. A stereotypical-but-true close friend of a friend swears Campbell — no spring chicken at 66 years of age — would love to beg off another Bond effort and spend his remaining occupational capital and the last few years of his professional life making more personal fare, perhaps like 2003’s Beyond Borders. Expect Bond producer Barbara Broccoli et al, however, to push for that time-honored “one last job.” The money may be too good, who knows…
Some low-budget movies are able to take their relatively
limited means and make this work for them by building it into the conceit — be
it something like Cube or My Dinner with Andre. Straight-up horror
movies of a certain meager pittance often fail in this regard because they have
one eye so staunchly on the bottom line, and are worried about — and more often
than not, entirely conceived around — commercial, lowest-common-denominator
reception.
Into this latter category falls writer-director Kevin VanHook’s remarkably unexceptional Slayer, a
vampiric actioner that centers around a swaggering paramilitary dude sent deep
into a South American jungle to rub out a clan of bloodsuckers. Certain films
have the courage of their own construction, which allows them to sport their
influences with playful forthrightness. Slayer
does not, alas. Boldly nipping from and wanly mashing together elements of Predator, Commando and Buffy the
Vampire Slayer, the movie unfolds with a boastful, self-serious strut that inspires
much eye-rubbing and deep sighing.
Casper Van Dien (Starship
Troopers) stars as said commando, Hawk, who teams up with his ex-wife (Jennifer O’Dell) to look for an old colleague (Kevin Grevioux) that’s been abducted by
the vampires. Much gnashing of incisors, so-so wire work and equally middling,
squib-happy effects work ensues, along with atrocious dialogue. There’s a Lynda
Carter cameo, but it feels so blatantly like a called-in chit as to incite
snickering. Also dropping in for paychecks are Ray Park (Darth Maul himself),
Tony Plana (Ugly Betty) and pock-mocked
tough guy fixture Danny Trejo, who’s made acne scars work for him more than
anyone else I can summon to mind. All in all, Slayer never really slays anything, least of all audience boredom.
Presented with a slightly raised slipcase cover, and in
1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen with optional Dolby digital 5.1 or 2.0 surround mixes,
the film at least comes with a relatively nice transfer. There is also a slight
roster of supplemental features — a polite but somewhat shrug-worthy audio commentary
track from VanHook and Van Dien, a photo gallery and a DVD-ROM accessible PDF
of the screenplay. D+ (Movie) C+ (Disc)
the smartly marketed film adaptations of the same name had already known. Chiefly, that there exists a largely untapped market of evangelical Christians for whom entertainment can serve as an extension of their religious beliefs, or at least the foundation of such. Into this breach steps The Nativity Story, a placid pass at the titular birthing-of-Jesus tale penned by earnest screenwriter Mike Rich (The Rookie, Finding Forrester) and directed by the unlikely Catherine Hardwicke (Thirteen, Lords of Dogtown). Despite the very religious roots of its narrative, The Nativity Story is actually equally pitched, tonally, to those who might typically enjoy secular tales of uplift and — that vague, longtime favorite of marketing sloganeers — “the human spirit.” For the full review, from FilmStew, click here.
John Tucker Must Die, a harmless
confection of teen entertainment and one of the bigger box office surprises of
last summer and early fall. Buoyed by savvy, his-and-hers commercials on Comedy
Central and smart trailer placement on The
Devil Wears Prada — which was a big July hit for 20th Century Fox — John Tucker turned a tidy profit in
pulling in more than $40 million domestically, and stands to do well on DVD now
that star and Desperate Housewives
hunk Jesse Metcalfe is back on the small screen to remind younger viewers of his
shirtless screen time in this film.
The story itself is pure boilerplate. High school jock John
(Metcalfe, above left) is immensely popular — the captain of the basketball team, and
dating three girls (Arielle Krebbel, Ashanti and
Sophia Bush, above right) at once, none of whom know about each other. Wallflower Kate (Brittany
Snow) witnesses John’s duplicity, and conspires with the girls to get revenge
through a series of schemes both somewhat shrewd and familiarly lowbrow (i.e., replacing
John’s bodybuilding powder with estrogen).
Director Betty Thomas (The
Brady Bunch Movie, Private Parts, 28 Days) is skilled in capturing
comedic rhythms in a smooth, bright, unfussy manner, and she certainly does that
here. She’s also given a script that, if completely functional and doughy on a
macro level, also really gets right the balance between spurned hurt and sassy,
empowered flippancy. Ergo, you have a story of femme-centric revenge that will
play to the same sort of 13-18-year-old set that helped make Mean Girls a hit, but a movie that also
delivers a few nice helpings of attractive ladies cavorting about in skimpy
outfits. For teen guys, that’s quite easy
to “suffer.”
John Tucker Must Die
is presented in a decent transfer, though there’s an irksome bit of edge
enhancement present, especially in the movie’s first two-thirds. Both a full
screen cut and a 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen presentation — the latter preserving
the aspect ratio of its original theatrical presentation — grace this disc, as
do the original and an “extended cut” of the movie, which clocks in at a
whopping 10 indistinguishable seconds longer. Audio arrives in an English
language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound track which amply captures the movie’s
rather meager dialogue demands, but pops nicely with its bouncy song
interludes. Spanish and French Dolby digital 2.0 surround sound tracks are also
available, as are optional English and Spanish subtitles.
A smattering of so-so, EPK-type featurettes (“Grrrl Power,” “Kodiak
Yearbook,” “On the Rebound”) will please the teen-core set in their
gum-snapping buoyancy, but don’t offer much in the way of replay value. Metcalfe
provides a four-minute on-set tour, though, which is a nice touch. Thomas sits
for a full-length audio commentary track with her editor, Matthew Friedman, and
along with a few anecdotes about the cast they also fairly impartially assay
the film’s place alongside other, like-minded teen flicks. Two deleted scenes
and a dating quiz round things out, alongside the obligatory gallery of trailers. C (Movie) B- (Disc)
The commercial success of Eli Roth’s Hostel has — in addition to the normal birthing of a sequel — lead
to a lot of people both scrambling to resituate developing spec scripts and locate/purchase
more of the same in lands aboard (see Turistas) and to reposition their schlocky B-movie horror pictures as somehow of that same
grim, torture-centric ethos. While billed as “the Spanish answer to Hostel,” first-time director Martin
Garrido Barón’s H6: Diary of a Serial
Killer is actually much more of a piece with 1986’s appropriately well
regarded cult classic Henry: Portrait of
a Serial Killer or writer-director David Jacobson’s 2002 indie Dahmer, starring Jeremy Renner.
H6 centers around Antonio
Frau (Fernando Asaco), a convicted murderer who, recently freed after 25 years
in prison in the death of his girlfriend, inherits an old brothel from an aunt
he never knew. Taking this as a sign to “cleanse” the surrounding area of the women
who work the streets, Antonio embarks upon a course of ritualistic purification.
He sets up a little torture shop and meticulously records his misdeeds in bloodletting
— all while, in parallel fashion, beginning a new life with a new wife
Like it or loathe it, Hostel
had both a garish and darkly humorous side to ostensibly counterbalance the bleak,
unremitting torture and gore of its late second and third acts. Even if you
could in no way, shape or form feel good about yourself after it was over, it
was the story of a descent into hell. H6,
meanwhile, is less forcefully convincing in its narrative specifics, as well as
its setting. It feels cobbled together, distilled from other American genre
entries, and if the killer’s diary is an original element, it’s never quite
fully utilized to the degree that one might guess from the title. It never
offers a deeper glimpse into Antonio’s soul that might be described as
lastingly haunting. He seems withdrawn and almost taciturn — a shallow proxy of
wickedness for the audience to impress their own ideas of evil onto.
That said, the movie certainly looks well put together, and achieves
swatches of not inconsiderable psychological sway courtesy of this production
design and cinematographer Sergio Delgado’s murky palettes. While not driven by
gore to the degree many American independent and low-budget genre productions are,
diehard fans of psychopathic fare with a forgiveness or indulgence for psychological
affliction and/or foreign flicks will find in H6 some… well, enjoyment?
Presented on a dual layer disc in anamorphic 1.85:1
widescreen, with Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound and DTS surround sound 5.1 audio
tracks, H6’s special features consist
of eight minutes of interviews with director Barón and lead Asaco, plus the
movie’s theatrical trailer and a trailer gallery of other releases from
distributor Tartan. Naturally, for this Spanish flick, English subtitles are
also included, though hey, violence is universal. B- (Movie) C+ (Disc)
So Eddie Murphy is going to parlay his Dreamgirls capital into… Beverly Hills Cop IV? That’s what various outlets are reporting. While that’s surely good news for Judge Reinhold and possibly even John Ashton, is the public really clamoring for a return to a character that last fizzled in 1994, in a bloated vehicle under the direction of John Landis?
Well, maybe, maybe not. Having already seen Sylvester Stallone’s quite solid Rocky Balboa, I have to go on record as saying that there is the potential for redemption in autumnal years sequels, and sometimes plugging back into a role that helped make their career can recharge an actor’s batteries batteries and reconnect them with what they love(d) about acting, and us about their performance. But the Beverly Hills Cop movies were never as roundly about audience identification as something like the Rocky flicks; they were amusement park rides, and if there’s not some iota or glimpse of growth for Murphy’s Axel Foley, it could be a tired and quite bad idea.
That said, Paramount is hoping that bringing in veteran producer Lorenzo de Bonaventura will breathe some life into the franchise. A fall 2007 shoot looks likely, with a release the following summer being most likely — 24 years after the original.
fights Sarah Carter in slow-motion in the rain in Corey Yuen’s preposterous looking DOA: Dead or Alive, which I recall not screening for critics, for some puzzling reason. So she’s got that goin’ for her, which is nice.
3 Needles,
a sprawling anthology that spans South Africa, rural China and Montreal
in an attempt to cast a broader light on the AIDS crisis, and ask why
mankind has not bonded together more tenaciously and durably against
this common scourge. For the full review, from IGN, click here.
Richard Grant, however, make the
leap, and certainly not with deeply felt semi-memoirs like Wah-Wah, which recounts in only slightly compacted fashion his
coming-of-age in the late 1960s during the final stages of British rule in
Swaziland, South Africa.
Careening charmingly to and fro in a fashion that — if one
is charitably inclined toward its indie rhythms and indulgences — gives full,
contradictory three-dimensionality to all of its main characters, Wah-Wah takes as its lead young teenager
Ralph Compton (About a Boy’s Nicholas
Hoult), who is beset by nervous tics. After his father Harry (Gabriel Byrne, above left),
the local Minister of Education, and philandering mother Lauren (Miranda
Richardson) split up, pop capriciously takes up with an American, brassy
erstwhile stewardess Ruby (Emily Watson, above right), as well as, more frequently, the bottle. Prone to violent rages and weepy, morning-after apologies, Harry becomes a more
and more erratic figure in his son’s life, leading Ralph to both develop strong
bonds with Ruby and explore his own creativity, through puppetry and acting.
Ruby causes waves, much to the consternation of stuffy neighbor Lady Hardwick
(Celia Imrie), by teaching the maid to read and sponsoring the (black) gardener
for a spot in a theater production; Ralph, meanwhile, scandalously cons his way
into a screening of A Clockwork Orange.
While all of this content could easily be played for pathos,
menace or boozy laughs, Grant isn’t afraid to showcase a fuller emotional
spectrum. As in life, the feelings and rationalizations on display in Wah-Wah change, sometimes at a moment’s
notice. Perhaps most interesting is the manner in which the movie assays a
slowly healthily step-parent relationship, as well as its meticulous attention
in regard to the detail of its hermetically sealed, colonial ex-pat setting,
and the inherent panic that living there at that time must have induced.
All of these things said, and Grant’s impressive
elicitations of performance from his ensemble cast notwithstanding, I still
found my attention wandering a good bit during Wah-Wah. It feels longer than its 98 minutes. The movie certainly
bears the undeniable stamp of auteurism, but its novel and abrupt shifts in
rhythm also just as frequently undercut both any traditional sense of mounting
tension and, paradoxically, at least some of its realistic sense of rooted place.
For all its idiosyncratic delights, one can’t help but want a little more
firmly laid track underneath the narrative.
Presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, Wah-Wah benefits from a fairly solid
video transfer with rich and consistent colors and very little grain, and also
comes with a Dolby digital 5.1 audio track. There are unfortunately no
supplemental features, which is both fairly puzzling and mortally wounding for
the release of such a personal film. C (Movie) D+ (Disc)