For those who aren’t big music fans (or scrupulously avoid out-of-field information with respect to genres in which they have no interest), a DVD spine reading, in bright, colorful letters, “Nashville Pussy” can create a bit of a stir. Kind of like the time one had to review another music-related disc entitled This Ain’t Your Mom’s Hardcore, Vol. 2.

Yep, it’s a concert disc, this DVD, and it features the band Nashville Pussy (named in reference to a line from a Ted Nugent’s Double Live Gonzo LP) rifling through 19 blistering songs in a 70-minute set from the Key Club in Hollywood. Husband-and-wife duo Blaine Cartwright and Ruyter Suys — the latter on guitar, the former handling vocals and additional guitar work — are joined by drummer Jeremy Thompson and new bassist Karen Cuda (replacing Corey Parks, sister of douchey ex-Dook hoopster Cherokee Parks), and together they all give the crowd exactly what they want, and then some.

The disc’s track listing consists of “Pussy Time,” “Going Down Swinging,” “High as Hell,” “Piece of Ass,” “Come On, Come On,” “Good Night for a Heart Attack,” “She’s Meaner Than My Momma,” “Go Motherfucker, Go,” “One Way Down,” “Hate and Whiskey,” “Hell Ain’t What It Used to Be,” “I’m the Man,” “Nutbush City Limits,” “The Bitch Just Kicked Me Out,” “She’s Got the Drugs,” “Shoot First, Run Like Hell,” “Lazy White Boy,” “Snake Eyes” and perhaps my favorite (based on title alone) “I’m Gonna Hitchhike Down to Cincinnati and Kick the Shit Outta Your Drunk Daddy.”

Housed in a regular Amray plastic case, this region-free disc comes with Dolby digital audio, and a bonus feature entitled “Pussy Home Movies.” So sit back, grab your bottle of whatever, and enjoy some good, old-fashioned sleaze-rock, if that’s your thing. If not, you might want to query Word Entertainment as to when that Amy Grant concert you liked so much is finally coming to DVD. To purchase the disc via Amazon, click here; for more information on the band, click here. C+ (Concert) B- (Disc)

Thrillers of expansive natural scope that retain both an authentic sense of place and a tightly coiled sense of character interplay are a fairly rare breed, but it’s just that small target for which director Brad Anderson is aiming with Transsiberian, a
slow-boil, humanistic thriller about an American couple who get sucked
into a downward spiraling drug investigation while traveling by train
in a foreign land.

Co-written by Anderson (The Machinist, Session 9) with previous collaborator Will Conroy, Transsiberian
unfolds largely on and around the legendary, same-named train. Iowa hardware store owner
Roy (Woody Harrelson, operating in his charming goofball mode) and his
wife Jessie (Emily Mortimer) decide to take the long way home after a
church-outreach sojourn to China. En route from Beijing to Moscow, the
pair meet up with another young couple, Carlos (Eduardo Noriega) and
Abby (Kate Mara), and bond over booze for the guys and cigarettes for the gals.

Roy
gets separated from the group at a stop, and complications ensue when
the trio disembark to wait for him to catch the next train, which ends
up taking a day and a half. When Roy and Jessie are reunited, the
former is accompanied by Ilya Grinko (Ben Kingsley), a Russian narcotics
detective who’s trying to track down some missing heroin, which he
believes may be being smuggled in novel form.

On its own deliberately plotted terms, Transsiberian more or less works, though chiefly as a drama instead of a thriller. As with Session 9, Anderson convincingly establishes a place that serves as a compelling anchor of mood for his film as a whole;
here, though, it’s not plumbed for creepy effect so much as it is for
general detail. The movie turns on a couple shocking acts of violence
that complicate the story in interesting ways, with the intrigue really
thickening at the 50-minute mark, and again with a second story bump at
the 80-minute mark.

Not entirely coincidentally, after an early
introduction, these moments loosely align with Kingsley’s
reintroduction to the narrative. As Grinko, an ex-KGB agent turned longtime cop who’s
suffered the socioeconomic disadvantages of the end of the Cold War and
dissolution of the Soviet Union, Kingsley
displays a certain darkly chameleonic charm; partly solicitous, partly
menacing, he slips into the movie, skulks around and stalks off with
its soul, mostly because we never seem to get a firm grasp of
what exactly he wants. Far from coming off as irresolute, though,
Kingsley just deftly plays the undertones of sometimes conflicting
motivations. Even after fates are decided in relatively stark terms for
the other characters, we’re left to wonder a bit more about Grinko, which seems
in every way appropriate, given Kingsley’s performance.

Housed in a regular Amray case with an accompanying, attractive cardboard slipcover, Transsiberian comes presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language 5.1 Dolby digital surround audio track, and optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles. Alas, there are no supplemental extras here, apart from a clutch of previews, which is a drag. Bonus-free discs like these are pointless these days, and a slap in the face to consumers — all the more so since Anderson is such a thoughtful interview. B (Movie) D- (Disc)

In honor of the new month, here’s a DVD review of indie flick November, originally published on IGN upon its initial release a couple years back. To wit:

There are an unfortunate number of independent movies that ape their big-budget siblings in story and attempted scope, telling indulgent tales of smart-talking, gun-toting criminals and the like when you know that the filmmakers have neither the personal experience nor the resources to back up their narratives. Instead of chronicling something they know and are passionate about, these writer-directors (after all, multi-hyphenates are a default designation when variable viewpoint collaboration is the enemy) simply undertake a miniaturized recreation of something much more formulaic. With substance taking such a deep, deep backseat to style, in the worst of these movies you can virtually feel the filmmakers — and even the actors, sometimes — all padding out their reel, reaching for that peach Hollywood gig.

The much rarer flip side of this phenomenon — the category into which the indie November, a noteworthy letdown, unfortunately falls — is that of a movie so self-serious and hell-bent on showcasing its pseudo-intellectual weight that it saps from the audience any notion or recollection that film, as a medium, might actually be fun or stirring. Directed by Greg Harrison (Groove) from a script by Benjamin Brand, November is every bit the coy calling card as every bad Tarantino or Scorsese knockoff out there, the only difference here being that the ambition is not a big studio deal but independent financing for another exercise in willfully arty mimicry.

In the lead, Courteney Cox absolutely swallows her extroverted Friends personae, in what is undoubtedly the film’s strongest selling point. She stars as Sophie Jacobs, a quiet amateur photographer and instructor at a local community college whose short, sensible haircut her bossy mother (Anne Archer) deems that of “an underachiever.” After a dinner out, Sophie and her boyfriend Hugh (James Le Gros) stop at a convenience store. Hugh runs in to buy some chocolate, but is murdered in violent smash-and-grab robbery.

Sophie is haunted by guilt, and starts visiting a psychologist (Nora Dunn) to cope with both her feelings and a series of debilitating migraine headaches. When photo slides of the store from the night of the murder — showing Sophie sitting in her car outside — start mysteriously appearing at her class, Sophie becomes convinced there may a witness that can help apprehend the heretofore uncaught perpetrator.

November is divided equally into three segments — titled “Denial,” “Despair” and “Acceptance” — that re-tell the same basic narrative arc of the plot with differing details, perspective and style. Like Run Lola Run, the film can be loosely construed as the story of a troubled mind trying to set right the confounding and contradictory details swimming around in our protagonist’s head. With its carefully attuned sound design (ominous noises from the apartment above Sophie’s) and the totemic importance given certain objects, November has the feel, for its first half hour, of something of weight and substance. Harrison also deftly uses color filters, slight costume changes and other schemes to differentiate his shifting realities.

The problem with November is that it gets progressively less unsettling and interesting as it unspools. The film is neither fish nor fowl. It doesn’t work as a thriller — it’s too plodding and ponderous for that — and neither are its dramatic stakes high enough to hold sway on its own. There’s no expanding sense of doom or intrigue to the movie, in other words. Once the riddle of its premise is easily unlocked, there’s little left but some experimental and somber filmmaking — a display case presentation. November wears its solemnity like a cloak, but I for one am calling “emperor’s new clothes.”

On DVD, November is presented in a 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer that does cinematographer Nancy Schreiber’s dark, moody digital video compositions few favors. While contrast holds steady and grain, of course, isn’t a problem, there are recurrent pixilation problems. Colors, too, seemingly suffer from attrition around the edges of frame. While the artistic strategy and reach of the movie still comes through, the capacity of Harrison’s rigorous saturation suffers in a small screen presentation, particularly in low- and fluorescent-lit scenes in the convenience store and Sophie’s apartment.

An English language, Dolby digital 5.1 mix anchors this release, and it’s a solid one. The dialogue is clear, if mixed a bit lowly. Plenty of room is instead given to slurry and surreal effect, with natural ambience tightly tamped down. The film’s partitioned construction offers up an interesting primer course for would-be filmmakers, in that returned-to settings are manipulated aurally as well as visually. Sophie’s dinners with her mother, for instance, become more disquieting and estranged, and Sophie’s apartment an unnerving extension of headache-riddled confusion. Subtitles in French are also included — a good choice, since November seems the type of conjectural, inwardly reflective movie that Franco-philes would enjoy.

Two audio commentaries anchor the bonus materials, and offer parallel views of the movie’s exacting construction. The first features Harrison and screenwriter Brand, and delves into the plot twists and decisions about the repeated-act structure. While not riddled with spoilers, this almost assuredly isn’t a commentary you’d want to indulge in before watching the film. A bit more academic, then, is cinematographer Schreiber’s commentary track, also in conjunction with Harrison. Also included are an alternate opening sequence, static photo galleries and a nine-minute conversation with Lew Baldwin, who, interestingly, wore two hats as both the movie’s composer and visual effects supervisor. His thoughts are interesting, and while November doesn’t hold up well as a whole due chiefly to some story flaws, this inclusion does make you pine for a more streamlined post-production sound team. If more filmmakers and/or composers had an intimate grasp of music composition and sound design, movies (particularly those of the independent variety) would benefit from this uniformity of purpose.

Overall, as its thoughtful extras indicate, November is a film that at least attempts to do some different things, to stretch beyond the normal modes of pat, indie narrative. Its forced dourness, though, isn’t a convincing substitute for artfulness. C- (Movie) B (Disc)

Chick Corea is kind of to jazz and fusion what Reese’s peanut butter cups are to chocolate and peanut butter. Fittingly funky, then, this concert DVD, which features an engaging performance by Corea on keyboards. (Dave Weckl sits in on drums and John Patitucci handles the bass chores.)

Part of Miles Davis’ renowned electric group from 1968 to ’70, Corea has bopped back and forth between the two related but idiosyncratic worlds with great ease ever since, forming Return to Forever, which began as a Latin-flavored group, with Stan Getz, and then shifting seamlessly back toward electric fusion and a greater fame. Since the late ’70s, Corea has alternated in the electric and acoustic realms with his Elektric and Akoustic Bands, recording in contexts ranging from solo and duo projects to larger group affairs. In the process, he’s been nominated for 25 Grammys, and won eight.

Live at the Maintenance Shop is sheer proof of this magnificence, and Corea’s skill. Recorded at Iowa State University circa 1987, and timing out at about 75 minutes, it features a pared-down set list consisting of “Sidewalk,” “India Town,” “Malaguena,” “King Cockroach” and the winding, 14-minute-plus “Rumble,” which has a throaty, full-bodied bass line that underscores its title. Corea enthralls throughout, making this title an easy, engaging showcase for longtime fans and jazz newcomers alike.

Housed in a regular Amray plastic case with a striking red-and-white cover, this region-free disc — distributed exclusively internationally by Quantum Leap — is presented in a standard 4×3 format, with a Dolby digital audio mix. Bonus materials consist of a simple, but welcome text band biography and discography, as well as information on other Quantum Leap releases. To purchase the disc via Amazon, click here. B+ (Concert) C- (Disc)

In Cyborg Soldier, former UFC Middleweight Champion Rich Franklin stars as I.S.A.A.C., a genetically altered assassin determined to bring down the crooked military institution that first set about creating such ruthless killing machines. Strangely, the film did not receive an Academy-qualifying theatrical run.

The story? I.S.A.A.C. (Intuitive Synthetic Autonomous Assault Commando, for all you acronym fiends out there) is the first prototype of a confidential “human weapon” program that genetically reconstructs humans to become deadly assassins. Searching for freedom and the truth about his military group, I.S.A.A.C. sets off on the lam, taking Deputy Lindsay Reardon (Tiffani Thiessen) as a hostage. Their lives collide as they try to expose the secrets and lies of the corrupt organization, headed up by smooth-talking Simon Hart (Bruce Greenwood).

Directed by Johns Stead, who also wrote the film with John Flock and Christopher Warre Smets, Cyborg Soldier is hamstrung by never really locating its raison d’etre. Probably first and foremost, of course, the movie wants to service action fans, but its perfunctory set pieces,
many of which end before they ever really seem to get going, is hardly the “highly charged explosive thrill ride” its cover box promises. On a certain level, too, the movie wants to be a paranoid, putting-in-right investigatory thriller, though the means by which I.S.A.A.C. and Lindsay unearth certain clues about his past and predicament are almost always arbitrary and/or ridiculous. There’s a pinch of Shooter here, and of course a healthy smear of more obvious influences like Robocop and Universal Soldier, but what’s most sorely lacking is some sort of spitfire chemistry or, failing that, clever interplay. Plenty of movies throw a guy and girl together for reasons having to do less with story than some predetermined commercial necessity — 1994’s The Chase, starring Charlie Sheen and Kristy Swanson, comes to mind — but it’s what happens once those characters are together that matters. In Cyborg Soldier, it’s unfortunately just a bunch of inane chatter. And no, Thiessen does not get naked, guys.

Housed in a regular plastic case with a PhotoShopped cover of Franklin with a hat pulled low over his eyes (and thus undercutting the movie’s most salient selling point), Cyborg Soldier is presented in 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track and optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles. Apart from a gallery of preview trailers for other First Look home video releases, there are unfortunately no other supplemental features. Even just a brief chat with Franklin would have gone a long way toward rallying the UFC base presumably most interested in this title. Alas, we’re left wondering where that charisma is that made folks think Franklin was a natural to headline a movie. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. D (Movie) D (Disc)

The
fourth volume of the filthy, infamous, pseudo-educational 1970s German softcore anthology series, subtitled “What Drives Parents to Despair,” features a number of beauties — most notably Christina Lindberg, who would also turn the heads of sexploitation fans in fare like Maid in Sweden and Anita. Owing to that fact as much as its relative-scale artistry, it’s worth a look for curious niche-market fans.

Schoolgirl Report Volume 4 opens in mock-academic fashion, with a one-minute segment in which a sportsjacket-clad, grey-haired man holds forth on the controversial nature of the series, and asserts that the movie’s dozen or so stand-alone scenarios are all rooted in fact, since “life writes the most interesting scripts.” From there the film moves into discrete thematic storytelling, with cautionary voiceover narration weaving together stories that are sometimes pitched a bit silly, but mostly just straightforward.

The opening segment focuses on a young schoolgirl, Elfi (an attractive Karin Gotz), who seduces her math teacher (Wolf Harnisch) in order to get a passing grade. The other bits involve all sorts of sexual experimentation, with randiness typically giving way to a softly admonishing moral, so that the filmmakers might have their cake and eat it too, so to speak. There’s a perverted older man who poses as a doctor in order to give teenagers his own special check-up, as well as a teenage boy who contrives with his girlfriend to simulate the same scenario, so that he might gain admittance to her room while her parents are home. There’s a group of high school boys who get their female classmates to enter into a prostitution ring with them, so that they can all afford nice new clothes and gadgets. Four girls talk sex and take pleasure in torturing a geeky guy at a public pool.

Lindberg’s segment, meanwhile, stars her as Barbara, a young teen girl who lusts after her older brother Wolfgang (Gunther Mohner), masturbates while watching him score with other women, and has trippy dreams involving bloody, naked nuns, a firing squad and lots of writhing about. Dipping into the taboo of incest is controversial, sure, but certainly the most unnerving segment involves a cabal of jealous, spiteful white girls who lure a black classmate to
a party in order to sexually humiliate her. It’s this segment, more than any other, that makes one feel uncomfortable.

What separates the Schoolgirl Report series from much of the rest of its sexploitation brethren, or at least elevates it a bit, is the production value and care that goes into its construction. Gert Wilden’s score is absolutely hypnotizing, and where else would one expect to see a shot of an undressing guy as seen close-up in the eye of his yearning beholder, as in the movie’s segment with Lindberg and Mohner? While it’s mainly (and unapologetically) an excuse to ogle the bodies of its female players, the movie’s makers were also smart enough to dress it up as something else — a harsh, unyieldingly “modern” representation of the adolescent collision of hormones, power-trading, natural curiosity and naivity.

Housed in a regular Amray plastic case, Schoolgirl Report Volume 4 is presented in 1.66:1 anamorphic widescreen, and the video transfer is surprisingly solid, and clear, save some mid-film grain and a brief run of large white splotches. Apart from chapter selections and newly translated optional English subtitles, there are no supplemental bonus features, unfortunately. To purchase the film on DVD via Amazon, click here. For more information on other Synapse releases, click here. B- (Movie) C (Disc)