Death Row is not exactly
what you’d call a tony period piece. Shocking, I know, given its genteel title,
and the co-starring presence of Jake Busey (let us now bow our heads for a
moment to observe the memory of Tomcats…), who now becomes notable as the whitest man
ever to play a character named Marco.

The story centers around one doozy of a mash-up. Seeking to
explore the bloody past of Isla del Roca Penetentiary, filmmakers Keith (Kyle
Schmid), Brian (Scott Whyte) blow off both a terrifying account from former
prison guard John Elias (Stacy Keach) and a mysterious warming from a priest
(Danny Trejo), and descend upon the aforementioned abandoned detention center with
their production team to begin shooting a documentary. Once inside, the crew
finds that a gang of fugitives from a nearby robbery gone awry have taken
refuge within the prison grounds. Shortly after their discovery, even more mayhem
breaks out when the rampaging ghosts of dead prisoners begin killing their new
guests. With filmmakers and fugitives locked together in a struggle for corporeal
survival against the continued existence of, I guess, the souls of their ghostly
antagonists, much blood naturally flows… which is to say in all sorts of unnatural
ways.

The utilization of a film crew conceit has been a hot (and
frequently lazy) hook ever since The
Blair Witch Project hit big back in 1999. Death Row doesn’t really score any points as far as imaginative
handling or integration of that tidbit, but railing against the set-up of a
movie like this is rather pointless. It’s not necessarily superbly acted, either, and some of the ways in which scenes cut together is slapdash and grating. Where Death
Row does score decent marks, though, is in its manipulation of effects and gore. Penned
by Rick Glassman (976-EVIL 2: The Astral
Factor… man, how I’ve waited to type that) and directed by Kevin VanHook (Slayer), the film doles out the
requisite carnage and death in interesting enough fashion (there’s nice use
made of a license plate machine), tosses in a few lookers (Shanna Collins, Claire
Coffee and Jamie Mann, above) amidst all that aforementioned sausage, and keeps
things moving at a nice pace.

Housed in a regular Amray case with a cardboard slipcover, and
presented in a 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer with Dolby digital 5.1 or Dolby
digital 2.0 audio audio, Death Row comes
with a smattering of supplemental extras that enhance the disc’s worth as a
rental for those in the market for grimy, gory genre monkeyshines. Joined by actors
Mann and Whyte, VanHook kicks things off with an audio commentary track, full
of backslapping anecdotes about on-set problem-solving. VanHook also talks a
bit about the editing process, but says that since he helped hatch and pare
down the narrative with Glassman (he takes a story credit on the script), he found
himself having a clearer idea of the final product than on some of his other
films, something supported by the sole deleted scene included here. A fairly
standard, 11-minute making-of featurette includes interviews with cast and
crew, as well as some behind-the-scenes footage. A four-minute bit entitled License to Thrill focuses on the gory effects
work involved in the movie. A photo gallery, some conceptual art and trailers
for other forthcoming Anchor Bay DVDs round out the release. C (Movie) B- (Disc)

A stark, sobering and engrossing documentary, La Sierra takes its name from a seedy,
violent barrio in the town of Medellin.
If that name in turn sounds familiar,
it’s of course because it lent itself to Pablo Escobar’s infamous drug-running cartel
of Colombia, the
cocaine capital of the world and scourge of Latin America.
A state of perpetual urban warfare exists in the country, with leftist ELN guerrillas,
a small handful of paramilitary gangs and the American-backed Colombian
military continually battling for power and control. Though bumped off the front
pages of newspapers by the conjoined morass of Iraq
and Afghanistan,
the toll has been devastating: more than 30,000 civilians killed in the past
decade.

Using the lives of three young people as its entry point
into a gritty rhetorical assessment, La
Sierra explores what it means to live amidst constant violence — where the
sound of machinegun fire is as common as crickets at night — and how that sadism
and brutality warps the sensibilities and duties of the young. First up is Edison
Florez, aka “The Doll,” a commander of Bloque Metro, a right-wing militia. At
the age of 22, he is the de facto mayor of the neighborhood and already the father
of six children, to a half dozen different women. Edison
is an intelligent and charismatic young man, making his openly communicated dedication
to a life of violence all the more frightening. As we follow Edison
through the small victories and setbacks of conflict, he shares his dreams for
himself and his children and explains his possessory attachment to what he
calls “my war.” It offers a chillingly parallel glimpse into the grunt-level, on-the-ground
psychology of the internecine civil feud raging in Iraq
right now.

Seventeen-year-old Cielo, meanwhile, was displaced from the
countryside as a young child when her brother and father were murdered by
guerillas. A mother by 15 and a widow the following year, when the father of
her baby was cut down in gang violence, Cielo is now devoted to a new boyfriend…
whom she visits in jail every Sunday. Jesus, 19, is a mid-level paramilitary
member. Badly wounded when a homemade grenade blew up in his hands and face,
Jesus presents himself as ready for death at any moment, regularly indulging in
marijuana and cocaine.

Intimate and hard to watch, but never evincing a feeling of
wallowing in artfully arranged despair for despair’s sake, the brisk, 84-minute
La Sierra unfolds in a bleak,
unforgiving world into which few journalists or documentarians would dare to venture,
and with good reason. Co-directed by Scott Dalton — a nine-year veteran of freelance
Latin American photojournalism who once spent 11 days in kidnapped captivity — and
Associated Press reporter Margarita Martinez, La Sierra reveals not only startling moments of violence and its
aftermath, but also bits of tenderness and faith that give the community hope
for survival. In the end, it’s a heartrending movie about how sustained violence irrevocably
shapes and informs the opinions and options of not just those primarily
involved, but generations to come.

Presented in Spanish with, naturally, English subtitles, La Sierra comes in a regular Amray case,
in 1.33:1 full frame, and with a Dolby digital 5.1 audio track. DVD bonus
features are fairly sparse, including only some cursory film notes and a trailer
for the movie. More edifying historical and/or current events information would
have further fed the wonkish audience for this type of title, but it isn’t a
prerequisite to the teeth-gritting enlightenment La Sierra provides. No “enjoyment” to be found here, but then
again, that’s part of the point, and something that all of us lucky enough to
be even reading a review like this need reminding of from time to time. To purchase the movie from Amazon, click here. B+
(Movie) C+ (Disc)

Philip, 44, worked out, played golf, and died suddenly of a
massive heart attack. Fifty-seven-year-old Pat didn’t know she had high blood pressure and
diabetes — until they led to her heart attack. Robin, 42, knew that an
inherited form of high cholesterol put her at risk, but the first of multiple
heart attacks caught her by surprise. These and other stories are told in The Hidden Epidemic: Heart Disease in
America, a cautionary two-hour title that pulls back the covers on one of the
nation’s greatest health challenges in the 21st century and beyond.

We all, it seems, know someone who has been touched by
cancer. While that threat, in the broadest strokes, isn’t yet significantly abated,
funding and education have helped launch many advance screening programs, and a
whole handful of leading cancer indicators are on the wane. Heart disease,
meanwhile, is now the number one killer in America
and it shows no signs of slowing, especially given our increasingly sedentary
lifestyles. Still, it’s not only a problem for the obese. More than half of all
people who die of heart disease succumb without warning.

While there is no cure, doctors are learning remarkable new
things about the disease, including where it starts, how it occurs, and what
that means for us. Interesting and informative, The Hidden Epidemic
showcases these stunning scientific advances, research that is helping to transform
the field of cardiology, and how it impacts us. The documentary also covers the
history of the emergence of heart disease as a major problem for Americans,
dating to the post-World War II period of prosperity, widespread smoking among
adults through the 1950s and ’60s, and the resulting effect on the nation’s
diet and exercise habits.

DVD bonus features of this letterboxed-presented title
include special printable fact sheets about heart disease, heart-healthy recipes
from chef and television host Ming Tsai, and an extracted selection from Reader’s Digest Magazine entitled “10
Easy Steps to a Healthier Heart.” Following the documentary, CNN’s Larry King hosts
a half-hour discussion featuring some of the country’s top medical experts and
physicians, all of whom present important strategies and practical tactics for
improving the health of your heart. There’s also an interview with King about
his own heart disease experiences. While more personal testimonials like these would
have amped up The Hidden Epidemic’s television
news-mag quotient of tugged heartstrings, practicality is the chief concern here,
and in that regard the above mentioned supplemental extras are certainly worthy
and appreciated. To order this or any DVD release from WGBH Boston Video, phone
(800) 949-8670 or visit their eponymous Web site’s shop by clicking here. B+
(Movie) B+ (Disc)

Alexandra Paul is perhaps different things to different people, but
to me she’s simply the statuesque brunette from erstwhile beach sudser Baywatch. I couldn’t really tell
you anything about her character or acting ability (sorry, I don’t remember her uncredited turn in Kuffs, and I never saw Diary of a Sex Addict), just that she was the one on
the show who at least seemed not to be a complete bimbo. (And yes, I’m definitely
including David Hasselhoff in that statement.) Oh! I remember something else. Paul also appeared in Who
Killed the Electric Car?,
a great documentary from last year, so I can also happily report that she’s environmentally
conscious.

Directed by episodic hack… err, hired hand veteran Rex Piano and
penned by — depending on which set of credits you choose to believe — Jason Burke
and Peter Sullivan or Jason Preston and Peter Sullivan, Trapped is a
made-for-cheap-thrills TV thriller starring Paul that unfolds over the course
of one weekend but, naturally, dramatically changes the lives of everyone
involved. Originally aired on the Here! cable channel last year (where it also
sported an exclamation mark of its designation after its indistinctive title),
the movie stars Paul as Samantha, an Internet security expert struggling to
balance work, her relationship with her girlfriend and being a good mother to
her temperamental teenage daughter, Gwen. While on their way to a spa for some quality
mother/daughter time, the pair is kidnapped by the mysterious Adrien (Breaking
Away’s Dennis Christopher). Using Gwen as leverage, Adrien forces Samantha
to use her computer skills to hack into an FBI database and locate a woman
hidden in the Witness Protection Program. In the obligatory race against time,
Samantha must break free from her kidnappers, save her daughter and foil Adrien’s
plot to hunt down and kill the witness. Why? Because having a mother that’s able
to be charged with accessory to murder would definitely not only further cramp
mother-daughter relations, but also put a big dent in potential college
admissions applications and scholarships. Michelle Wolff and Nicholas Turturro costar
and bring a bit of edge to their characters that certainly isn’t on the page,
but Trapped is a mortgage-and-rent project in almost every regard. Not that there’s
anything necessarily wrong with that… I’m just sayin’. If a flyweight, lesbian-tinged thriller of
fleeting diversion and/or Alexandra Paul are your respective cups of tea, Trapped
won’t necessarily feel like a sentence. Otherwise, there’s little of
consequence to be seen here.

Presented in 1:78 widescreen enhanced for 16×9 televisions, Trapped
comes with a solid little Dolby digital 5.1 English sound mix. There are
unfortunately no subtitles (sorry, China!), nor any DVD supplemental features contained herein. C- (Movie) C- (Disc)

The Loop was a freshman show that got cut down amidst all the
mayhem last fall.

Co-created by Will Gluck (Andy Richter Controls the Universe) and former South Park scribe Pam Brady, the show centers around 24-year-old Sam
Sullivan (Bret Harrison), the youngest executive at a major airline, and the
first among his friends to land a real job. Well… major airline may be overstating
things a bit. Sam works at Trans Alliance under a gruff CEO, Russ (Philip Baker
Hall), and his right-hand woman Meryl (Mimi Rogers). It’s a struggling niche
carrier who’s currently outside of the top 10 in passengers and certainly
prestige. Still, Sam is doing well for himself. As half suit and half slacker, though,
Sam has to somewhat precariously straddle two worlds, balancing a desire to
climb the corporate ladder with his desire — and capability — to party hardy
with his wild and crazy roommates.

First there’s Sam’s older, hedonistic brother Sully (Eric
Christian Olsen, putting an only somewhat tamer spin on the same sort of
character he played in The Last Kiss),
who refuses to grow up. Then there’s Piper (Amanda Loncar), Sam’s college friend,
for whom he secretly has a crush. Finally there’s ditzy bartender Lizzy (Sarah
Mason), who proves the object of many of Sully’s schemes and jokes.

The character of oblivious female crush is an old one, and The Loop doesn’t do an extremely
convincing job of making Piper more than a very pretty and occasionally witty cipher.
The absurdist plotlines, meanwhile (including a dog swallowing Sam’s portable flash
drive), are little more than transparent set-ups for fast-paced, throwaway humor.
What elevates the show, though, is its cleanly delineated irreverent tone and consistently
wicked joke writing — the flesh and blood of any sitcom to the skeletal
structure of its conceit. It certainly helps, too, that the cast is likeable
across the board.

DVD is the perfect format for an aborted series likes The Loop, and this regular Amray
case-housed collection of all seven episodes of the show (a half dozen more or
so may be burned off as summer filler — it’s to be decided) presents them in
fine fashion. Somewhat surprisingly, at least to me, the programs are in a 1.78:1
anamorphic widescreen aspect ratio; an English Dolby digital 5.01 surround
sound mix captures the series’ aural demands with grace and ease.
Close-captioned or ESL audiences can also avail themselves of the optional
English and Spanish subtitles. The lone bonus feature is a brief collection of
interviews with cast and crew — Thesis:
Work vs. Play, its title referring to a impassioned pitch that helped Sam
land his job at Trans Alliance in the first place. What The Loop’s fate is, ultimately, one can’t be sure, but that doesn’t
mitigate to an untoward degree the pleasure of this set. B (Series) C+ (Disc)

Generally credited as being one of the founders of the world
famous “Motown Sound” that swept the nation in the 1960s, Mary Wells is
considered not only one of the best female singers in the music industry, but
also a vital part of the success of Berry Gordy’s prestigious label. This DVD
release, though definitely too brief and somewhat dashed off, celebrates her musical offerings.

Like many of that era, Wells came up quick, as a talented youngster.
While still in her teens, Wells began working as a contract songwriter for Tamla
Records, and in short order got her own performance contract. Health problems
plagued Wells throughout her life (as a small child, she suffered a bout of
spinal meningitis, which left her temporarily paralyzed, and with partial
blindness in one eye), so it was somehow less shocking — but no less
unfortunate, for music lovers and her loved ones — when Wells passed away in
July of 1992, at the age of 49 years old.

Wells reached her greatest creative and commercial heights
by working with Smokey Robinson as a producer. She penned and recorded “Bye Bye
Baby” in 1961, and the tune became a big hit, marking the start of a very successful
five-year run. Three major singles would follow the next year: “The One Who
Really Loves You” which would chart at #8, “You Beat Me to the Punch,” which
would chart at #9, and “Two Lovers,” which would hit #7. Tours of Europe and
the American South and Northeast followed, turning Wells into a solo sensation,
which was confirmed in 1964 with her own #1 hit, “My Guy.”

Recorded live at the Rock ’n Roll Palace in Orlando, Mary Wells: Greatest Hits contains a
collection of a half dozen of the singer-songwriter’s tunes, along with four
more bonus tracks from the up-tempo Contours and the Crystals, groups that were
also part of Gordy’s satellite of stars. The aforementioned quartet of 1961 songs
kick things off, followed by “What’s Easy for Two Is So Hard for One.” Signature
tune “My Guy,” meanwhile, closes things out, with Wells’ soulful performance
coming across as at once intimate and forcefully grand (older American Idol fans can see a pinch of Wells
in Melinda Doolittle). At 40-some minutes, and with no supplemental features, this
DVD feels fairly threadbare. While remaining true to the title of the
collection (these are her hits), it’s
a shame that there’s no room for “Once Upon a Time,” Wells’ captivating duet with
Marvin Gaye, or other of her offerings. B- (Concert) D (Disc)

Mel Gibson
put a characteristically violent spin on Mayan culture with Apocalypto, but of course there were more
than a few kernels of truth spread throughout his subtitled actioner,
especially in regards to the Mayans’ penchant for ritualistic human sacrifice. After
all, enemies of notorious King Yax K’uk Mo squared off in an ancient Mayan
arena in a game that appears much like modern soccer, with winners of the fateful
contest being spared and losers losing their heads. These and other interesting
tidbits are given fuller illumination in Lost
King of the Maya, a long-form documentary originally broadcast on PBS in
2001. The piece explores the collapse of the Mayan civilization in reverse-cast
mode, by examining the rise of the civilization out of Central
America’s rain forests more than two millennia ago.

For more than five centuries, a dynasty of so-called “Blood
Lords” presided over the Mayan city of Copan,
conducting hallucinogenic vision quests, human sacrifice and campaigns of
ritualistic warfare. Many generations of scholars dismissed the story of Yax K’uk
Mo as part of a self-conflated myth, but Lost
King of the Maya takes viewers deep into the lush Honduran rain forest, where,
at the Mayan equivalent of the Acropolis, a team of archaeologists and
historians finally piece together a more complete look at the fascinating rise
and fall of Copan civilization and Yax K’uk Mo’s pivotal role as founder.

As with most historical non-fiction programs of this nature,
there needs to be a hook, and that’s what Yax K’uk Mo provides Lost King of the Maya. But it’s not
fallacy. In the fifth century AD, this unique ruler — not native to the area — was
able to consolidate power and achieve rapid conquest over local warlords,
immediately overhauling the ruling principles and hierarchy of an entire civilization.

The pyramids of ancient Egypt
capture the imagination in more immediately breathtaking strokes, but the
ancient Mayans’ sophisticated intellect, astronomical abilities and complex
culture makes a persuasive case that it was just as advanced. While it uses its
subject as the main lens of refraction, Lost
King of the Maya also devotes plenty time to beautifully carved Copan
monuments, magnificent temples and the like, easily showing why the lost city
is often referred to as “the Athens of Central America.” Transforming legend and
myth into reality in an easily digestible and interesting form, Lost King of the Maya is a solid documentary
for history buffs.

Presented in full screen in a fine transfer with no problems
with grain or edge enhancement, Lost King
of the Maya is spread out over two DVDs, and runs just under two hours. It comes
with the usual spread of sparse supplemental features, chiefly aimed at
educators. This means links to special portions of the NOVA web site, and a few
other printable materials. B (Movie) C (Disc)

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