Having first gained notoriety for his recurring role on the second
season of Chappelle’s Show, Bill Burr was actually the first comedian
to perform on Conan O’Brien’s short-lived version of The Tonight Show, and is still a regular performer on The
Late Show with David Letterman. Representing the culmination of material he developed through 2008 and ’09, his new concert special Let It Go finds Burr, trading in what he deems his own brand of “uninformed observational logic,” mixing hilarity with honesty, in often self-eviscerating fashion.

Directed by Shannon Hartman, and captured from a set at San Francisco’s legendary Fillmore, the hour-long Let It Go finds Burr in top form, riffing in irascible fashion on his many disgusts. Watching a woman eating multiple Egg McMuffins and then wipe her face with the bag leads Burr to conclude that he’s pro-swine flu (“We need more plagues”). Burr, who is also on tour
this fall with his new show, You
People Are All the Same, then talks about his girlfriend’s love of all holidays, and pondering suicide as a means to escape the off-the-cuff commitment of making a pie for Thanksgiving. His funniest material, though, shrewdly attacks the differences in the sexes. Burr talks about liking to watch his girlfriend watch Oprah Winfrey, and he amusingly lays into the false difficulties of motherhood (“Women are constantly patting themselves on the back for how difficult their lives are, and no one corrects them — because they want to fuck them!”). Those sniffing a strictly misogynistic sensibility, however, get an amusing surprise when Burr turns his guns on men: strokes at 55 years of age, he asserts, come from five decades of stupidly suppressing the urge to hug puppies, admit kids are cute and the like.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Bill Burr: Let It Go comes to DVD presented in a 1.78:1 aspect ratio, with an English language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track. Bonus features on the disc consist of outtakes and a couple excised bits, as well as material from and about Burr’s popular Monday morning podcast. Bill Burr: Let It Go is also available via digital download, incidentally, but to purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B+ (Concert) C+ (Disc)

Italian filmmaker Tinto Brass remains perhaps best known Stateside for working up 1979’s Caligula with Bob Guccione. He’s been a busy peddler of erotica both before and since, though, working up easily more than a dozen titles in the decades since his infamous, scandalous telling of imperial Roman debauchery. One of his more recent works, 2003’s Fallo!, released here as Private, finally sees the light of day in an affectionate new DVD treatment from Cult Epics.

Chapter-partitioned into six discrete segments, Private unspools somewhere between softcore and hardcore, as a lighthearted morality play about sexual disenchantment and the gulf between men and women. The cheeky first segment, “Alibi,” centers on Cinzia (Sara Cosmi) and Gianni (Massimiliano Caroletti), a vacationing married couple who look to stave off a seven-year itch by introducing into the bedroom a studly Moroccan bartender, Ali (William De Vito). Other stories concern the power dynamics in a relationship where the boyfriend is obsessed with the notion of backdoor action (which he isn’t getting), a honeymooning couple who locates a certain thrill in a peeping Tom, and a beach-set, flashback-heavy story of cuckolded shame. The strongest entry is probably “Double Trouble,” in which two couples sort of knowingly wink at one another’s dalliances with the other’s spouse, which may or may not be tied up in careerism.

Brass doesn’t shy away from delivering naked titillation, but the explicit content here is fairly minimal, and tame. While, narratively speaking, Brass gets into fetishism and philandering, all of Private‘s stories also have a hearty comedic component, and might as well have a goosing, slap-happy jazz score laid underneath them — with characters rolling around wildly in the grass or on a bed, for instance. The performances are of the hit-and-miss variety, but the work of cinematographer Federico Del Zoppo and composer Francesco Santucci help further give the film a buoyant sense of liveliness and jocularity. It helps, too, that there’s no awkward stab at a “wraparound” narrative here, though the concluding tale, “Call Me Pig… I Like It” (yes, seriously), ends with an amusing cameo — or reveal, let’s say — that serves as a perfectly amusing sort of bird’s-eye exclamation point to the movie.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Private comes to DVD presented in a 1.85:1 aspect ratio, with an Italian language stereo audio track subtitled in English. Its chief supplemental feature is a 18-minute making-of featurette which shows Brass, now in his late 70s, to be, um, a very hands-on director. Brief chats with many of the on-screen players are included, though they’re hardly in depth enough to glean much of substance about the production, save the fact that one actress confirms she encounters the only real phallus in the movie. Much more engaging and amusing is the subtitled portion of an interview with Brass, in which he says this of his film: “First and foremost it is about the more pushy affirmations of the jaunty, even barefaced feminine eroticism. I could dedicate it to people of importance, like Hillary Clinton or Monica Lewinsky.” (Err… what?) The release’s other special features consist of the trailer for Private as well as five other Brass films, in addition to two separate photo galleries that completely blur the risible distinction between “regular” and “adult,” or NSFW. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C+ (Movie) B- (Disc)

It’s not all Michael Jackson. America’s obsession with staying young and beautiful through augmentation has ballooned to a $60 billion annual industry, with almost 10 million cosmetic surgical and nonsurgical procedures combined performed in 2009. And it’s seemingly recession-proof, too, as a recent industry report noted only a two percent drop from the previous year. Vanity? Mere modern, auto-style maintenance for humans? Whatever you call it, the death-grip of that personal panic forms the basis of the new-to-DVD documentary Make Me Young, which originally premiered on HBO under the title Youth Knows No Pain, and gets a longer, unedited cut here, replete with bonus features.

The daughter of the former chief of plastic surgery at Michigan’s biggest hospital, and a self-professed “product girl” more than a little panicked about turning 38, director Mitch McCabe begins her quest into America’s relationship with aging by examining her own preoccupation with short-term remedies (hair coloring, for her), and crosses the country to speak with surgeons, multi-procedure patients and even a would-be Jack Nicholson look-a-like. In turning the camera on herself and her own upbringing, and serving as her own narrator, McCabe presses the question: why are we obsessed with turning back the clock?

McCabe chats up doctors and a collection of industry types (Allure editor-in-chief Linda Wells, authors Charla Krupp and Nicholas Perricone) to get their perspectives, and begins her travels across the country doing sit-down, very formal interviews. She quickly hones in on a small handful of subjects, however, and develops surprisingly intimate bonds with them. Among these are several plastic surgery aficionados, most notably 53-year-old Sherry Meecom (above), a cheerful Dallas housewife who readily undergoes the knife in her pursuit of personal fulfillment, and Southern California-based Norman Deesing, who’s spent more than $50,000 to transform himself from a short, balding dude into a happily (re-)married man who gets music video work as a Jack Nicholson doppelganger. There’s also creepy Houston plastic surgeon Dr. Franklin Rose, and his busty (non-enhanced) 25-year-old daughter Erica Rose (who would later go on to achieve notoriety as a participant on The Bachelor and VH-1’s You’re Cut Off).

Make Me Young is fairly facile, and engaging throughout. McCabe peppers her film liberally with family home video footage and all sorts of (potentially embarrassing) asides, which makes it fairly relatable, and probably even further endearing to women. For better or worse, she is the prism through which this issue is being examined, not unlike Michael Moore in his films. If there’s a knock on the movie, it’s that it does dawdle more than a bit with some of its interviewees, which, when paired with McCabe’s more laid-back personality and style, can give off a bit of an aimless vibe.

Yes, Make Me Young admirably avoids alarm-bell advocacy, and lets viewers form their own opinions about both McCabe’s subjects and their choices. (A plastic surgeon cooing, “What bothers you would bother me,” ranks among the creepiest professional come-ons; it just seems something one does not particularly want to hear from a supposed medical professional.) But sometimes one longs for a pinch of subjective fire (a couple such moments exist in the excised scenes), or some more naked conflict, rather than the movie’s studied, professorial, birds-eye view. And a bit more of an intellectually ambitious film would have perhaps tried to incorporate a look at mainstream mass media portrayals of retirement-age men and women, and how that in turn effects our own personal relationships with aging. Still, these are sins of omission, not commission. On balance, Make Me Young makes for an entertaining look at adult vanity, which we all possess, to varying degrees. Oh, and Lyndsay Bertie? Fret not — your smile is not noticeably asymmetrical, no.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Make Me Young comes to DVD on a region-free disc. Its ample bonus features consist of an engaging feature-length audio commentary track from McCabe, as well as a seven-minute behind-the-scenes featurette in which she talks about the state of Texas representing a breakthrough point in her interview travels for the movie. (Apparently everything really is bigger in Texas, including folks’ honesty about their surgical procedures.) There are also six deleted scenes running approximately 20 minutes; the most interesting of these, which would have made for a nice inclusion in the movie, involves a trip to a cryogenics lab and storage facility. There are also a half dozen extended interviews as well. For more information, click here. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, meanwhile, click here. B- (Movie) B+ (Disc)

Along with America’s fascination with flexing its military might, there is a correlative interest in celebrating said fascination, albeit in nothing necessarily more than the fashion of an armchair general. This is the reason for the entire existence of the History Channel — so that those who never paid attention in high school history class can regale their coworkers with newly learned facts about World War II and the Vietnam War. Ergo, there’s also a highly receptive audience for something like the three-volume Weapons of War: Volume 1, which examines in fetishistic detail the history of warfare and how new technologies have changed the ways battles are fought.

Ground War is the first title, a two-part feature film, narrated by R.J. Allison and co-directed by Roger Finnigan and James
Millar, which explores the key technological advances that have defined ground warfare through the ages. With classic examples like the stirrup and lesser known innovations like the gunner’s quadrant, the series reveals how even the smallest innovations can have a wide-ranging effect on not only the way armed conflicts are waged, but also their outcomes. Next up is Warplane, narrated by Stacey Keach. As one might surmise from the title, this sprawling title shines a light on the 100 years since the Wright brothers first took to the air, and how the airplane has evolved from a tentative eye in the sky into the ultimate weapons delivery system, via unmanned drones. Finally, narrated again by Keach, Warship tells the story of the evolution of the warships, right up to the United States’ current cutting-edge navy battle groups — made up of nuclear aircraft carriers and submarines, and a range of other high-tech and immensely powerful ships.

While the technological and spec detail here is sometimes wonky, Weapons of War also does a good job of locating enough personable in-points to make military culture and infrastructure make sense (and even seem appealing, in its just-the-facts-and-mission rigidity) to the average layperson. It would be nice — or at least more honest, and challenging — if there were a correlative look at how military industrial complex spending has both sometimes helped spur private industry offshoot technological advance and innovation, and also sometimes drained needed resources from other government programs and budget necessities, but that’s not what this set of movies is about, clearly.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case with a snap-in tray, Weapons of War comes to DVD spread out on three discs, in 1.78:1 widescreen, with an English language stereo track. The meaty length of its feature presentations — totaling almost a dozen hours — renders the set’s lack of supplemental bonus features a bit less distressing. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or click here. Or if you need a DVD with public performance rights, click here. Finally, if Amazon is totally your thing, click here. B- (Movie) C- (Disc)

There are any number of ways to commit a cinematic fumbling — to fritter away a decent concept or creepy set-up or what have you — but one of the more common, at least in the direct-to-video genre realm, is to not trust your story, writing and characters, but instead double down on a reliance on special effects, which too often come across as chintzy when delivered on a budget-level basis. Such is the case with Growth, which features absolutely great DVD cover art and an effective trailer to boot, but, alas, doesn’t deliver the squirmy horror goods.

Written and directed by Gabriel Cowan (Breathing Room), Growth opens in 1989, when a breakthrough in advanced parasitic research on remote Kuttyhunk Island gives scientists a jump in human evolution, endowing subjects with heightened physical and mental strength. Naturally, though, the experiment goes horribly wrong, producing a lethal parasite that kills off three-quarters of the island’s population. Cut to 20 years later, when Jamie Akerman (Mircea Monroe), who lost her mother in the outbreak, returns with her boyfriend Marco (Sleepwalkers‘ Brian Krause), step-brother Justin (Christopher Shand) and best friend Kristin (Nora Kirkpatrick) to sell the family property. There, they uncover details about Jamie’s disturbing past, and horrifying secrets long suppressed by the town’s leader, Larkin (Office Space‘s Richard Riehle). Just when the past seems to be finally buried, a slithering new strain of parasite emerges, and threatens the island and its visitors once again.

An intriguing set-up and some effectively delineated backstory put Growth in a good spot to wring elemental dread out of the inherently human fear of things getting under our skin, and/or otherwise invading unintended orifices (as Star Trek II aptly demonstrated, with those earwigs). Cowan doesn’t fully trust the material, though, and Growth thusly pivots from a movie with the potential to unnerve to a shambling film of goosing provocation and little insight. Without the budget to pull off big-level special effects, the narrative leans on them to an unfulfilling degree.

Growth comes to DVD housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, in turn stored in a cardboard slipcover with raised lettering and artwork. It’s presented in a 2.35:1 aspect ratio, with an English language Dolby digital 5.1 audio track and optional English SDH subtitles. Its package of ample bonus material is anchored by a feature-length audio commentary track from Cowan and fellow producer Amiee [sic] Clark, as well as a separate audio commentary track with actors Monroe, Krause, Shand and Kirkpatrick. There is a nice little behind-the0scenes featurette built around interviews with cast and crew, and there’s a separate featurette look at how Cowan — via online camera, from Los Angeles — directed one scene shot in South Korea. A clutch of deleted scenes and the movie’s trailer round out bonus materials. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C- (Movie) B+ (Disc)

In the autumnal stretches of each year, it seems, there’s at least one spare, micro-budgeted indie film, a la Starting Out in the Evening or Venus, that features a ruminative, calling card performance by an aging actor. Last year that film was That Evening Sun, and that actor was Hal Holbrook, Oscar-nominated a few years back for his supporting turn in Sean Penn’s adaptation of Into the Wild.

Based on a short story by William Gay, and gracefully adapted for the screen by director Scott Teems, this movie might best be described as a coming-to-terms-with-age tale — part mournfully rustic, part delightfully crotchety, and entirely a fitting vehicle for Holbrook’s under-appreciated talents. The erstwhile big screen “Deep Throat” stars as Abner Meecham, an aging Tennessee farmer who absconds from the assisted living facility he’s been set up in by his lawyer son (Walton Goggins), and catches a ride back to his country farm to live out his days in peace. Upon his return, though, he discovers his property has been leased to an old enemy and his family. Not one to either suffer fools or be dictated to, Abner moves into the old tenant shack on the property and declares he will not leave until the farm is returned to him. But Lonzo Choat (Raymond McKinnon), the new tenant, has no intention of giving in to Abner’s demands, and so an increasingly edgy and dangerous battle of wills ensues.

Trading in slow pans, simple set-ups and outdoor locations that match the material, Teems doesn’t try to showcase a bunch of directorial razzle dazzle. Southern characters are frequently woefully misrepresented in American film, but, if you ignore the molasses-dipped names, That Evening Sun has an easy, unforced sense of authenticity that takes it a long way. There’s a Faulknerian specificity here, and Holbrook doesn’t overplay the emotion, expressing the grace notes of a man swallowed up by both frustration and regrets he won’t as readily admit. Abner’s decisions are sometimes a bit more impulsive than seem genuine for a man of his age, no matter the heart behind them. But That Evening Sun poignantly reminds us that feeling is often stronger than thought, in adolescence and old age alike.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case in turn stored in a cardboard slipcover, That Evening Sun comes to DVD presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, preserving the aspect ratio of the movie’s theatrical exhibition. Its audio comes in the form of an English language Dolby digital 5.1 mix, with optional English and Spanish subtitles. Cinematographer Rodney Taylor and editor Travis Sittard sit in with Teems for a feature-length audio commentary track that’s somewhat amusingly dubbed an “anti-commentary track,” part of Teems’ only-half-kidding protest at not simply letting the movie stand by itself. There’s also a nine-minute, somewhat impressionistic making-of featurette, set to music from the movie; over 70 minutes of cast and crew interviews; the film’s theatrical trailer; and a 30-minute scene-specific look at the production design and overall collaborative construction of the movie. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here; to purchase the film on Blu-ray, meanwhile, click here. B (Movie) B+ (Disc)

Originally titled Homewrecker when it bowed at the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year, The Locksmith, from brother writer-directors Brad and Todd Barnes, is a rough-around-the-edges screwball comedy, offering up charms fleetingly similar to the Martini brothers’ Smiling Fish and Goat on Fire, which was one of the toasts of the 1999 Toronto Film Festival, back when they still handed out awards.

A quirky romantic comedy that unfolds mostly over the course of a single day, the film follows Mike (Anslem Richardson, of Life on Mars), a rehabilitated felon who, after a four-year stint in jail for selling drugs, gets out and tries to start putting his life back together, including reconnecting with his ex-girlfriend Monique (Michelle Krusiec). After taking a job as a locksmith, however, Mike unsuspectingly gets dragged into the neuroses of a desperate customer, Margo (Ana Reeder), when she recruits him to help her spy on her supposedly cheating art gallery owner boyfriend, Charles (Stephen Rannazzisi). Madcap zaniness ensues.

Margo’s obsessive, chatty, force-of-nature personality drives The Locksmith, and New York stage actress Reeder makes her sing — a bundle of contradictions that convincingly fit together. If she’s the octane, meanwhile, the subdued Richardson is the project’s oil, and his steadiness gives The Locksmith a much-needed counterbalancing presence. The Barnes brothers’ experience in a New York filmmaking collective entitled the Institute of Magical Dance (yes, seriously) gives the project a shared sense of unanimity and positivity rare to independent productions. Some audiences will definitely want more “meat,” or conventional dramatic substance here, but The Locksmith is a pleasant little surprise.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, The Locksmith comes to DVD presented in a fine 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer, with an English language 5.1 Dolby surround sound audio track, and optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles. Apart from a slate of previews for other First Look titles, there are unfortunately no supplemental extras. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B (Movie) D (Disc)

Jake Gyllenhaal, Ben Kingsley and Gemma Arterton headline this action-adventure slice of period piece derring-do from producer Jerry Bruckheimer, filled with the sort of exotic locales and visual effects that Hollywood peddles quite well on an annual basis. Oh, and there are ostrich races, too.



So does Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time really catch fire? No, not really. It works reasonably well as a piece of escapist, forgettable small screen entertainment, but it’s not for nothing that the movie was seen as something of an under-performing theatrical dude domestically, grossing $30 of its $90million haul in its opening weekend (even though it would rake in an additional $224 million overseas). For all the Herculean effort expended to give this project lift and consequence, its stakes still feel small, its jostling banter familiar and all its punchy action-drama preordained.

Maybe it’s a result of the source material, and the film’s blindingly obvious franchise ambitions. Adapted as it is from the bestselling videogame series of the same name, the story here is pretty simple and straightforward, built up around fraternal/familial honor and distrust. Some ridiculously solemn opening crawl text and voiceover (“Where Persian sword went, order followed…”) plunks us down outside the holy city of Alamut, where adopted prince Dastan (Gyllenhaal) reluctantly teams up with a native princess, Tamina (Arterton), to safeguard a magical dagger that gives its possessor the power to reverse time and rule the world.

After the sudden death of his father, the king, Dastan finds himself at odds with his brothers (Richard Coyle and Toby Kebbell) and uncle, Nizam (Kingsley), and has to work hard to clear his name and uncover the truth. Adventure, desert escapes and backstabbing ensue (that fun with ostriches, too), all against the backdrop of a narrative that, believe it or not, manages to none-too-subtly sneak in some political statement. (The villain of the piece has secret government assassin squads, and his blundering invasion of a foreign land on trumped-up charges leaves the occupiers unsuccessfully searching for special weapons caches.)

Producer Bruckheimer has enough of a track record of success with these types of film that there are wads of money to throw at the production, and so there is plenty of color and detail in Prince of Persia, though for my money some of the lavish sets — constructed at great cost in Morocco, where the film lensed — actually look a bit chintzy, and too perfect and neat for what should be something a little more gritty and dirty. Or, strike that: could be more interesting if it were so.

Though he has some experience with spectacle in the form of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, director Mike Newell doesn’t have a natural sense of action rhythms — several of the sequences feature both slow-motion and quick edits, to mask deficiencies in coverage — and Prince of Persia suffers mightily in this regard. There’s plenty of swashbuckling and energetic, accented running about, but some of the movie’s comedic relief (in the form of Alfred Molina) feels like a heavy lift, and the film’s playful romantic bickering is fairly insubstantial, owing to a dispiriting lack of engaging chemistry between its leads.

At least technologically speaking, Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time is a solid film to experience the cinematic magic of Blu-ray; Bruckheimer’s productions are nothing if not frame-stuffed, and the pristine 1080p picture and DTS-HD master audio sound quality definitely enhance the action and special effects more than an average action title. In addition to single-disc DVD and single-disc Blu-ray versions, Prince of Persia is also available in a three-disc Blu-ray/DVD combo pack, stored in a cardboard slipcover, which also includes a digital copy of the movie. On DVD, the movie preserves the theatrical exhibition’s 2.40:1 widescreen aspect ratio, with Dolby digital 5.1 English, French and Spanish language tracks, and an English language 2.0 DVS track. On Blu-ray, the film is presented in a 1080p high definition widescreen transfer, with English 5.1 DTS-HD master audio (48kHz/24-bit), English 2.0 DVS, and French and Spanish Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound tracks. Optional English SDH, French and Spanish subtitles are available on each version, which leads to some amusing (and telling) translations of all the background din and clatter (“whooping rhythmically” and “clamoring all” are among the more memorable descriptions).

Most notably, a combo-pack-exclusive interactive “Sands of Time” feature gives fans control of the dagger of time, allowing them to rewind the movie and uncover spun-off, behind-the-scenes magic in over 40 separate segments, each lasting no more than three minutes. It’s a nice touch, certainly, for those given to repeat viewings of the film, or wanting to, say, immediately know more about Gyllenhaal’s workout regiment and the movie’s stunt work. Otherwise, there’s just a single deleted scene, though the DVD version also contains a behind-the-scenes featurette on the film’s production. Running under 20 minutes, the piece includes interview chats with the principal stars, plus all sorts of on-set footage, and interestingly delves into the handcraft work that went into prop making and set construction on site in Morocco. To purchase the three-disc Blu-ray/DVD combo pack, click here. For an eight-dollar coupon off said combo pack, meanwhile, click here. C (Movie) B- (Disc)

One doubts that a critical opinion will move the commercial needle too much with regards to a movie like Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam, but it’s always worth checking in on the tweens every once in a while, lest they start getting too uppity, and planning their Logan’s Run-type takeover of society more out in the open, in encoded entertainment.

Starring Sonny With a Chance‘s Demi Lovato and the Jonas brothers, this movie returns to the same-named summer music camp where little Mitchie (Lovato) previously came into her own. There, she meets up with friends she made the previous summer. At the same time, music stars Shane, Nate and Jason (Joe, Nick and Kevin Jonas, respectively) are excited to get off the road. Shane, who previously worked at Camp Rock, reconnects with Mitchie. Things are nice. What the campers don’t expect is the opening of a slick, new musical camp across the lake, Camp Star. Led by heady up-and-comers Luke (Matthew Finley) and Dana (Chloe Bridges), these rivals threaten the future of Camp Rock’s existence. Naturally, the only way to solve the differences between the two camps is with a knife fight to the death live musical competition where fans vote for the best camp.

Like all of Disney’s tween-targeted titles, Camp Rock 2 offers up an explosion of layered, color fashion, and lots of cheery noise; director Paul Hoen may not know of subtlety, but he and director of photography David Makin pack the movie’s frames with all sorts of peppiness. What’s kind of dispiriting about Camp Rock 2 is how pat talk of “following one’s dreams” is dragged out and wanly attached to music, without much of a deeper exploration of how songs truly can take the trite and make it soar — infusing hearts with joy and love, and thus actually opening and changing minds. That’s why music will always matter more — that is, deepest — to folks of a younger generation: because it so matches the intensity of feeling of adolescence, which feels like an inescapable sentence rather than merely a phase.

That Camp Rock 2 doesn’t treat this all that honestly isn’t a big sin of commission, really, but it does feel like something of a missed opportunity. The script, credited to Dan Berendsen, Karin Gist and Regina Hicks, doesn’t have a lot of punch in the dialogue, either. Still, the choreography, editing and production value of the musical numbers generally exceeds the quality of the original film. And in a movie like this, isn’t that what matters most, or at least most to the target demographic?

Camp Rock 2: The Final Jam comes to home video with a coupon that allows purchasers to save $6 when they buy the DVD or Blu-ray in tandem with another Disney kiddie-themed title, like any of the various DVD iterations of the High School Musical series. In addition to single-disc Blu-ray and DVD versions, the movie also comes in a three-disc Blu-ray/DVD combo pack, including a digital copy of the movie. On Blu-ray, the movie is presented in 1080p high definition, in 1.78:1 widescreen transfer, with English 5.1 DTS-HD master audio (48 kHz/24-bit) and optional French (5.1 DTS digital surround sound) and Spanish language (Dolby digital 5.1) audio tracks. A selection of music videos (including “Different Summers” and “Walking In My Shoes”) and a behind-the-scenes featurette on the movie’s newest stars is also included, along with a rock-along function which lets viewers track the music in the film. For the younger Guitar Hero aficionado in your home, this title is a solid bet. To purchase the Blu-ray/DVD combo via Amazon, click here. C+ (Movie) B- (Disc)

Held Hostage, which takes a home invasion siege as its leaping-off point, and charts the story of a single mother forced against her will to take part in a bank robbery, bills itself “a visceral portrait of what it takes to survive against insurmountable odds,” but given that it’s based on victims’ advocate Michelle Renee‘s straightforwardly titled memoir Held Hostage: The True Story of a Mother and Daughter’s Kidnapping, it’s perhaps unsurprising that the film plays as little more a small screen movie-of-the-week. What Held Hostage does have most going for it, though, is a great, evocative DVD cover.

Michelle Estey (Dexter‘s Julie Benz) is a single mother and a bank manager, living with her young daughter Breea (Natasha Calis). One fateful night, masked gunmen break into their home and bind both of them with duct-tape. The next morning, after wiring them both with explosives, they give Michelle an unnerving ultimatum: cooperate in a bank heist, or she and Breea will die via remote control, and along with them the extra “e” in Breea’s name. Michelle complies, and she and her daughter are left unharmed. Then the investigation begins, and with it new questions arise. Neither the police (mostly in the form of Bruce McGill’s investigator) nor her colleagues completely accept Michelle’s frightening story, and as details about her abusive, salacious and debt-riddled past come to light Michelle finds herself a suspect in what one apprehended culprit deems an inside job.

There isn’t a lot of epic scope to this material, granted, but director Grant Harvey goes himself and the audience no favors with the tight, unimaginative manner in which he shoots the script, and ridiculously emotive, on-the-nose (and loud) music further sullies proceedings. This is all Lifetime-type pablum, given that we already know the perpetrators of the crime, and so when Held Hostage transitions into courtroom he said-she said shenanigans (which is more than half the movie), things bog down quickly. Benz, who’s come a long way since Jawbreaker, does her best with the material, and it’s nice to see her get a chance to play a crusading, front-and-center lead. There’s just not nearly enough substance or nuance here to make it worthwhile for the average viewer.

Held Hostage comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, divided into a dozen chapter stops via a static menu screen, with a Dolby digital 5.1 audio track, and optional English and Spanish subtitles. There are unfortunately no supplemental materials, which kind of undercuts the title’s whole empowering-women/true-story vibe. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C- (Movie) D- (Disc)

The United States is built on the principle that higher education is attainable by anyone with the passion and work ethic to succeed. But does this still really ring true today? Hosted by Martin Smith, this hour-long entry in the award-winning Frontline investigative series puts modern education to the test, examining the world of university education and asking if a higher degree is truly necessary even though it often brings about massive student debt.

The business of higher education is booming — it’s a $400 billion industry, fueled in part by taxpayer money. But against the backdrop of faltering American test scores and a global economy, College, Inc. takes a somewhat provocative premise, arguing skeptically that most students are not getting their money’s worth out of the deal. Critics say too many college diplomas are a worthless degree that leave attendees awash in a mountain of debt. Investors insist they’re innovators, widening access to education. Smith and his producers follow the money to uncover how Wall Street and a new breed of for-profit universities are transforming the way some folks think about college in America. While certainly interesting on the surface level, and full of ample data to back up some of its assertions about educational trends, College, Inc. also infers writ-large conclusions where there are really none. Back to the drawing board and/or editing room, one wants to say to its makers.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, College, Inc. comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 widescreen, with an English language 2.0 stereo track. There are unfortunately no supplemental bonus features. To purchase the DVD via PBS, and/or purchase a copy with public performance rights, click here. Or, to purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C (Movie) C- (Disc)

Economy of scale and vision is an underrated thing in film, but writer-director Raymond De Felitta (Two Family House, The Thing About My Folks) has made a career out of trading in the grey area where familial exasperation and love meet in jarring fashion. Boomer-targeted audience-pleaser City Island is his latest effort, and if its narrative moves come across too often as workshopped-cute contrivances, it at least serves as a winning showcase for star Andy Garcia.

Set in a quaint, insular fishing community on the outskirts of New York City, the movie details a family whose comfortable coexistence is upended by a series of surprising revelations. Family man Vince Rizzo (Garcia) is a lifelong resident of the tiny, tradition-steeped Bronx enclave of City Island. While he makes his living as a corrections officer, Vince secretly longs to become an actor. Ashamed to admit his aspirations to his family, Vince would rather let his fiery wife Joyce (Julianna Margulies) believe his weekly poker games are a cover for an extramarital affair than admit he’s secretly taking acting classes in Manhattan.

When Vince is asked to reveal his biggest secret in class, he inadvertently sets off a chaotic chain of events that turns his suburban life upside down. Inspired by the exercise, and after stumbling across his long-lost son from a previous relationship, Tony Nardella (Steven Strait), in prison, Vince impulsively decides to force-furlough Tony and bring him home to meet his family. Soon it becomes clear that everyone — including Vince’s college student daughter Vivian (Dominik Garcia-Lorido, Garcia’s real-life daughter), teenage son Vinnie, Jr. (Ezra Miller), and charismatic acting class partner, Molly Charlesworth (Emily Mortimer) — has something to hide. As secrets of the past collide with lies and half-truthsof the present, this perfect storm of deception and confusion makes Vince and his family members realize that the truthmay not set them free, but it certainly is easier to keep track of.

DeFelitta has an unfussy directorial approach that allows for a lived-in feel, and he clearly has a nice touch with actors as well. The main problem is that City Island, which won the 2009 Tribeca Film Festival Audience Award, delivers little more than surface conflict. Much of the movie’s color and almost all of its plot details — from Vinnie, Jr.’s porn-fueled chubbie-chasing and its slow bleed into a relationship with a neighbor, to Vivian’s improbable stripping and Joyce and Tony’s flirtation with something on the side — come across as nakedly designed to just put characters at odds, and nothing else. The material would seem better suited for darker, inwardly reflected psychological exploration, but City Island is rated PG-13 (rather thinly defended by De Felitta in the DVD’s bonus material), and keeps any of these instincts at bay. Instead, it’s interested only in dizzy, theatrical-style contretemps.

The result is easy on the brain if also uninspired — a seriocomic souffle that, excepting the more quiet intrigue of Vince and Molly’s relationship, just opts to slowly turn up the volume of all its characters’ dialogue, until a conclusion that recalls any number of supposedly autobiographical plays ending with everyone arguing in melodramatic fashion and gesticulating wildly in an open street, with a nosy neighbor in curlers gawking at the familial trainwreck. (There’s no one in curlers here.) Garcia is as warm and engaging a presence as always, and he goes a long way toward making this City worth visiting, but De Felitta confuses inoffensiveness and insightfulness, and one’s esteem and appreciation for this work dissipates with each minute it recedes into memory.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case with a hollowed-out cover spindle, to reduce the amount of plastic used in packaging, City Island comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, spread out over a dozen static menu chapter stops, with a Dolby digital 5.1 audio track and optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles. Bonus features include a feature-length audio commentary track with multi-hyphenate De Felitta and Garcia, also a producer on the film. Their rapport is warm and conversational, touching on everything from the movie’s real-life setting and De Felitta’s filmmaking advice (if one has the opportunity, point the camera at water, since it’s “free set dressing,” and immediately makes one’s movie seem to have a higher budget) to the trick of using cobbled-together production funding to bring in Polish composer Jan Kaczmarek, and the pole-dancing skills that Garcia’s daughter had to learn for the film.

Other bonus features include 15 minutes of deleted and extended scenes, as well as a “Dinner With the Rizzos” featurette which gathers the director and his cast around a table for some pasta and a back-slapping tour of reminiscence through the production, interspersed with film clips. There is also the theatrical preview for City Island and five other trailers, including for Sunshine Cleaning, Beyond a Reasonable Doubt and After.Life. The Blu-ray edition of the film includes the same bonus features, plus an iTunes-compatible digital copy of the film. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C (Movie) B (Disc)

The final film of Brittany Murphy arrives in the form of Abandoned, a low-grade psychological thriller put together with little imagination, and thus destined to be nothing more than the answer to a morbid trivia question.

Directed by Michael Feifer, Abandoned follows Mary Walsh (Murphy) as she delivers new-ish boyfriend Kevin (Dean Cain) to a hospital for an outpatient orthopedic surgery. But when Mary goes to take him home, Kevin is nowhere to be found. The hospital administrator (Mimi Rogers) can’t locate any record of him, and an assholish security guard, Holloway (Scott Anthony Leet), isn’t much help either. Detective Franklin (Jay Pickett) arrives, and conducts a more thorough search, but also turns up nothing. An increasingly frantic Mary is taken to a staff psychiatrist (Peter Bogdanovich), who pronounces her unstable. When a stranger informs Mary he knows of Kevin’s whereabouts, but demands a $10 million ransom, Mary attempts to spring into action to save herself and the man she loves.

It’s not nice to speak ill of the dead, I realize, but I’ll say what’s lingering in the mind of anyone who paid even just a fair amount of attention to the trajectory of Murphy’s career: her appearance had become a problem. Or maybe that’s not fair… a distraction, let’s say. An impediment. Everything that was special about Murphy in her best work — Clueless, Girl, Interrupted, Don’t Say a Word, 8 Mile — and even the buoyancy that she carried with her through paycheck projects like Just Married and Little Black Book had slowly been worn down and stripped away, replaced by a fragile performer whose lack of self-confidence in her own appearance was evident in her Botoxed lips, dyed hair and starved frame. Whatever specific problems she had offscreen, it’s clear that Murphy was trying to fit someone else’s preconceived notion of what a young actress should be, and look like, and it started to warp her work, in movies like The Dead Girl and Deadline. Over the last couple years, you couldn’t just watch Murphy in a role anymore — you saw someone whose confidence had been shattered, whose charms had disappeared or been tucked away somewhere for the moment inaccessible.

There are trace elements of her talent here — a flinty reserve of steely nerve, and flashes of quiet anger when Bogdanovich’s doctor renders his diagnosis), but they’re measurable in mere seconds, alas. Abandoned doesn’t give Murphy (or any of its other performers, really) good material with which to work, but neither does Murphy elevate it, or make it something interesting and engaging. The result is an utterly forgettable work, and a sad end to a once-promising career.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Abandoned comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, with a Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track. Apart from a trailer and optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles, there are unfortunately no supplemental bonus features here, further relegating the title to trivia-question-level anonymity. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. D (Movie) D (Disc)

Consistently — and, based on what I’ve heard from friends I’ve made in other parts of the country, almost everywhere — the Korean War gets the shaft when it comes to a historical conveyance to middle and high school students. Its overview, even the most basic rationale for its waging, are frequently given no more than a handful of sentences, crammed in between “sexier” lesson plans on World War II and the Vietnam War. The result is an entire generation that can literally tell you almost nothing about the conflict beyond the words 38th Parallel and whatever else they gleaned from Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Endeavoring to rectify that situation is Unforgettable: The Korean War, which examines the intriguing and in many ways uniquely
tragic history behind a war that has yet to end through exclusive
interviews with some of the veterans who experienced it firsthand. Written and directed by Tom Kleespie, this solid, easily digestible hour-long PBS documentary takes as its hypothetical audience an age group somewhere between today’s inquisitive college students and flag-waving boomers just now emerging from a cocoon of corporate-mandated office drudgery and catching up on their history. Its slick setting of scene is perhaps what it most has going for it — Korean War veterans recount their memories of America in the late 1940s and early 1950s, when young men from all over the country were being shipped off to defend South Korea against the advancing Red Army in the north. The juxtaposition of home life and the discovery of harsh, on-the-ground reality draw evocative comparisons, and if the macro political calculations that went into its waging are still painted in broad strokes, the “un-won” war that never really ended, and yet killed tens of thousands of U.S. soldiers and affected many more lives at home, at least finally comes into focus in for those who would have liked to learn more in school, but were failed by various teachers too busy “teaching to the test” of the moment to tread too far from the textbook.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Unforgettable: The Korean War comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 widescreen, with an English language stereo track and static menu screen. There are unfortunately no supplemental bonus materials. To purchase the DVD, click here. B- (Movie) D (Disc)

Christopher Walken is a multiple Oscar nominee, but his talent has been overshadowed to significant degree by both his highly imitable vocal delivery patten and penchant for eccentricity as well as, simply put, his love to work, which has led to him appearing in many dozens of films, including a lot of dreck. $5 a Day, a father-son reconciliation road movie with he and Alessandro Nivola, isn’t terrible, or worthy of inclusion in that risible, latter category of Walken’s canon, but it is a film that is illustrative of the difference between narrative charm and conflict.



Nat Parker (Walken) is an eccentric, by-the-seat-of-his-pants type of guy — a hustler content with a life of schemes and underhanded deals. He has a sponsored car with Sweet ‘N Low plastered all over it, a seemingly endless supply of phone cards with which he likes to barter, and a penchant for hitting up hotels and casinos for their free coffee, but he lacks one thing: reconciliation with his son Flynn (Nivola). Flynn has long ago ceased trusting his father — after a one-year stint in prison on a larceny charge — which has in turn greatly impacted his relationship with his girlfriend Maggie (Amanda Peet). But Nat’s time is apparently growing short. After being diagnosed with a terminal illness, Nat lures Flynn into joining him on a cross-country journey to an experimental medical facility, with special stop-offs to visit a kooky ex-babysitter, Dolores (Sharon Stone), and the blackmail of an old rival (Peter Coyote) to boot.

Nat is an eccentric character on the written page (he plans his journey west based around IHOPs he and Flynn can hit up for free “birthday” breakfasts), so Walken’s casting in some ways might seem kind of yawningly uninspired — a bit too on-the-nose. Thankfully, though, Walken doesn’t over-crank the quirkiness, instead locating in Nat a smidgen of make-it-right regret. Nivola, meanwhile, nicely modulates his exasperation, and his pairing with Walken makes for an engaging push-and-pull, scene to scene.

Directed by Nigel Cole (Saving Grace, Calendar Girls, A Lot Like Love) from a script by Neal and Tippi Dobrofsky, $5 a Day isn’t particularly egregious in any of its missteps, though it does wildly over-calculate the interest of its stopover with Stone’s Dolores, a vampy cougar on whom Flynn is supposed to nurse a curse. The chief problem is that while the movie charms, it never particularly feels propelled forward by any real conflict. Things just… happen, some of which are kind of funny, some of which a bit less so. Instead, a handful of genealogical twists and other mortal-coil issues are crammed into the final 10 to 15 minutes of the film, though not in a manner that comes across as satisfying or particularly believable. For fans of the actors and hardcore enthusiasts of the “road movie” genre — of which there are enough entrants to program its own festival — $5 a Day has enough charm to warrant a rental; others, however, may mostly shrug.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case in turn stored in a cardboard slipcover, $5 a Day comes to DVD presented in 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen, with a Dolby digital 5.1 audio mix, and optional, lax English and Spanish subtitles, each of which feature some errors. Bonus features consist of a choppy slate of a half dozen interviews with the cast and director Cole — a roster hamstrung by the fact that, inexplicably, Walken isn’t included. Of the bits that are included, it’s somewhat amusing to hear Stone talk about her reasons for taking the movie (“A comedy with Christopher Walken — I’m there!”), as well as first encountering Nivola while taking meetings for Basic Instinct 2. There is also a trailer for the movie, and a gallery of photo stills by Michael Parmalee. To purchase the movie via Amazon, click here; to get the Blu-ray, meanwhile, click here. The movie is also available via digital download. B- (Movie) C (Disc)

In the wake of the financial success of Porky’s, a slew of teen-targeted movies which allowed for the showcase of bared female breasts made their way to the marketplace. One such flick comes in the form of 1985’s Loose Screws, a half-million-dollar-budgeted follow-up to 1983’s Screwballs which reunites many of the terrible actors and the director of that insipid, inane Porky’s rip-off.

Distributed Stateside by Roger Corman’s company, the movie’s “story” centers on four Beaver High screw-ups (Bryan Genesse, Lance Van Der Kolk, Jason Warren, Alan Deveau) who after repeatedly being held back during their senior years are for some reason sent to “Cockswell Academy,” a postgraduate school where they swoon over French teacher Mona Lott (Cynthia Belliveau) and have run-ins with their new thick-browed, sexually frustrated douchebag principal (Ken Taylor).

Any further synopsis or analysis of either plot or nuance is basically pointless. If you’re going to rent or purchase a 1980s teen sex comedy called Loose Screws which features partially hand-drawn cover art, you’re wanting and/or expecting some combination of the following: bad new wave music, even worse hair, chicks in spandex workout attire and jelly bracelets, walkmans, “cross-dressing” comedy in which a guy interloper gains admittance to girls’ rooms, a spirited pop song which works in the title of the movie, a pointless beach dance sequence under extremely cloudy skies, a wet T-shirt contest and a nincompoop adult foil. Loose Screws delivers all those moments, as well as a scene with guys “playing doctor” with unsuspecting ladies, and ending with a skeleton falling out of a closet, causing one girl to run screaming. And oh yeah, there’s also a moment where the guys run down a hall, round the corner and slide to a stop in exaggerated fashion. Ha! Seriously, though, this is all terrible — the acting, writing and execution. That it’s terrible in familiar ways makes it “nostalgic” and therefore appealing to some. Not in my book, however.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Loose Screws comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language Dolby digital 2.0 stereo audio track. Bonus features include an active-screen main menu, an often unintentionally amusing audio commentary track with Polish-born director Rafal Zielinski, and a pair of interview featurettes — a 10-minute chat with producer Maurice Smith, who comes across as less skeevy than some of his other credits (Flesh Gordon) might suggest, and a five-minute talk with production manager Ken Gord. While Smith owns up to the material’s, um, straight-up commercial nature, the latter is most engaging, as he cracks up when an offscreen interviewer asks, “So, did you guys ever feel like, ‘Wow, we really have something here!'” While the regular “director’s cut” of the feature tracks at about 76 minutes, there’s also an 88-minute cut of the movie, “presented in
authentic VHS-vision” (read: a crappy dubbed VHS version, in 1.33:1 aspect ratio), for what it’s worth. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. D- (Movie) C+ (Disc)

Unlike many of its superhero film brethren, Kick-Ass does not
take as its central figure the victim of a radioactive spider bite or
cosmic rays, nor a gloomy, misunderstood genius or the refugee of a
doomed alien world. Instead, it centers on a regular teenage guy with no
special powers. The result, under director Matthew Vaughn, is a film
with vim, much color and a distinct, streamlined personality, no doubt,
but also one whose punchy connection recalls the effects of a piece of
that paper-wrapped, nickel-priced bubble gum of yesteryear — an
ultra-sweet, sugary rush that fades quickly, and is apt to leave one
feeling a bit queasy.

Adapted from Mark Millar and John Romita, Jr.’s comic book of the same
name, Kick-Ass centers on bespectacled comic book fanboy Dave Lizewski (Aaron Johnson, above). A seemingly average teenage virgin, Dave is consumed with spank-bank fantasies of his teacher, and unsure of how to even approach any girls his own age. Sick of his crime-riddled hometown, in which bad guys seemingly get away with everything, Dave decides to become a real-life superhero. As would any good crimefighter, he works up a new identity (Kick-Ass), procures a suit and mask (in this case via mail-order), and starts training, keeping all of this secret from even his two best friends (Clarke Duke and Evan Peters).

When Kick-Ass first confronts some carjackers, he receives a massive beatdown — a humiliation that, owing to the fact that he is found without his clothes, somehow finally helps endear him to Katie Deauxma (Lyndsy Fonseca), on whom Dave has long had a crush. After recuperating, an undeterred Dave again sets out to fight crime, and when an amateur cell phone video of his exploits becomes a viral sensation, his life changes forever. As a subculture of even more bumbling copycats springs up around him, Dave manages his burgeoning Internet popularity but again gets himself in a tough situation. He’s rescued by a pair of crazed, costumed vigilantes — 11-year-old Mindy Macready, aka Hit Girl (Chloe Moretz), and her mild-mannered ex-cop father, Damon, aka Big Daddy (Nicholas Cage), who has been training Mindy for a special revenge mission her entire life. Individually and collectively, their exploits draw the attention of criminal kingpin Frank D’Amico (Mark Strong), and Frank’s attention-starved son Chris (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) eventually develops an alter ego, Red Mist, in order to forge an alliance with Kick-Ass and win his father’s approval.

While not the first film to aim for laughs alongside superhero hijinks, Kick-Ass may well be the most robust and indefatigably single-minded in its execution. Vaughn, working from a screenplay coauthored with his Stardust collaborator Jane Goldman, peppers his dialogue with snarky asides, but also leaves room around the movie’s edges for plenty of bewilderment and exasperation from its characters, which helps give Kick-Ass a convincing sense of organic pop. They may be doing outrageous things, but all of these characters occupy the same world. Occasionally, the film seems poised to break through and land some blows of grander cultural critique, but each time it backs away. Despite its novelty on a certain level, in significant ways it feels like it shares the main problem of many comic book film adaptations, or at least those not involving Christopher Nolan — of being overly beholden to the source material, where a surfeit of cool is always the prime directive.

Apart from its adrenalized packaging and some colorful production design by Russell De Rozario, what most helps Kick-Ass viscerally connect is its cast. As the protagonist, Dave can be neither one-note ineffectual nor all awakened machismo, and British-born Johnson nicely captures all the gangly, jumbled and frequently at-odds energy of his character and quest, which is all about putting the cart before the horse. Robbing the show, though, is Moretz. As written, the character of Hit Girl is a natural scene-stealer — a tiny, prepubescent girl dispatching burly henchmen with decapitating twirls. But Moretz, while skilled with a well-timed quip, also locates a bit of her character’s driving adolescent desire to please a parent, even though the material she is given in this vein is perfunctory. It is a flint of tangible human yearning, in a colorful movie driven — perhaps excessively and failingly so — by its own goading instinct to please.

In addition to single-disc versions, Kick-Ass comes to home video in a nice DVD/Blu-ray combo pack with an ample slate of bonus features. Exclusive to the Blu-ray version is an ass-kicking bonus view mode, which incorporates video and audio commentary, behind-the-scenes clips and illustrative graphics with Vaughn and other cast and crew members. A superlative making-of documentary delves into the movie’s Vancouver shoot, and there’s another featurette on the movie’s comic book origins. An archive of marketing materials, a scrollable art and photo gallery, a feature-length audio commentary track with Vaughn, trailers, and a digital copy of the feature film round out the supplemental material of this collection. On Blu-ray, the movie is presented in 1080P high definition 2.40:1
widescreen; audio comes in the form of 7.1 DTS-HD, with a French
language Dolby digital 5.1 mix as well. There are also optional English
and Spanish subtitles. To purchase the DVD/Blu-ray combo via Amazon, click here. B- (Movie) A- (Disc)

What sort of opportunities do being a Bond babe present? Well, movies like The Assassin Next Door, you might think, headlined by Quantum of Solace‘s Olga
Kurylenko. In actuality, though, this Israeli import isn’t a straight-ahead shoot-’em-up, but instead an action-tinged drama whose downmarket title and baser revenge instincts actually belie a somewhat interesting tale of interpersonal connection by two wounded women.

Written and directed by Danny Lerner (Frozen Days), the movie centers on Galia (Kurylenko), a Russian woman who gets caught up in a bad situation and indebted to the mafia. She just wants her passport so she can reunite with her young daughter Lena, whom
she left back in Russia, but gangster Roni (Liron Levo) and his lackey Mishka
(Vladimir Friedman) have other plans for her, and utilize her ability to gain access to certain areas to assassinate people on their behalf.

In an rundown apartment building, Galia encounters another woman with a need to escape, her neighbor Eleanor (Israeli platinum recording artist Ninet Tayeb), a grocery store clerk who suffers at the hands of an abusive husband. The two experience a standoffish beginning to their relationship, but eventually grudgingly bond over their respective senses of cultural disconnection. As days darken for each woman they grow even closer, seeking to break out and beyond the constraints of their horrible situations.

Lerner doesn’t have the budget to stage a big sweeping club scene and a bunch of shootouts, so when The Assassin Next Door is forced to exercise its action muscles as above, its claustrophobically staged fisticuffs, beat-downs and the like don’t really excite in any conventional sense. Instead, paradoxically, what gives the movie lift is the weighty sense of doom facing each woman, and how they find to-scale solace in one another. Kurylenko and Tayeb have a nice chemistry together, and Lerner dirties up the women’s respective natural beauty, undercutting any chance of this becoming a glamorous showcase. While the outside forces complicating Galia and Eleanor’s lives are somewhat stock-issue, and hamstrung by a few implausibilities, Lerner trusts his actresses and really knows how to slow-peddle a dialogue scene, much to the benefit of the material.

The Assassin Next Door is very much not the movie one expects it to be given its title, but that’s not at all a bad thing. (The true emotional catharsis of the film, far from the wrought vengeance that finally separates the ladies from their dire circumstances, actually concerns Galia’s spiritual cleansing and rebirth at a mikveh, which is something understandably conspicuously absent from its DVD cover box description). A character drama masquerading as something much more kick-ass, Lerner’s film may be something of a “tweener” (too thoughtful and esoteric to please straight-to-video action fans merely looking for Kurylenko to bare some skin and cap some suckers in stiletto heels, and too coercive in some of its base-level conflict for fans of cultured foreign dramas), but it is surprisingly involving.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, The Assassin Next Door comes to DVD presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track, and optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles. An active menu screen gives way to a static menu of a dozen chapter stops, but other than a gallery of five previews there are unfortunately no other supplemental materials. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B- (Movie) D (Disc)

Fifteen years ago, it certainly wouldn’t have seemed likely to your average fan of MTV’s Singled Out, but Jenny McCarthy has become the most recognizable public face of the anti-vaccine movement, owing to her eight-year-old autistic son, and belief that overly aggressive vaccinations play a part in the onset and spread of autism. So it comes to be that she’s on the cover of The Vaccine War, along with then-boyfriend Jim Carrey.

A one-hour documentary, The Vaccine War goes behind the lines in a growing national debate over vaccines and their impact on our health. Public health scientists and clinicians tout vaccines as one of the greatest achievements of modern medicine, but for many ordinary Americans vaccines have become controversial. Young parents are concerned at the sheer number of shots — some two dozen or more inoculations for 14 different diseases by age six. Some advocacy groups, like McCarthy’s Generation Rescue, argue that vaccines are no longer a public health miracle but instead a scourge — responsible for alarming rises in disorders like ADHD and autism. With scientific medicine and the public health establishment on one side and a populist coalition of parents, celebrities, politicians and activists on the other, it’s a din unlikely to die down any time soon. While short on concrete answers, The Vaccine War provides ample platform for debate, and at least sparks thought and lively conversation. If those things are of interest to you, you might be intrigued by this title.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, The Vaccine War comes to DVD with an English language Dolby stereo audio track. There are unfortunately no supplemental bonus features, save some recommended Internet links. To order a copy of the documentary, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or click here. Alternately, to purchase the DVD via Amazon, meanwhile, click here. B (Movie) D (Disc)

From her first professional appearance on stage in 1964 to her 1968
West End debut in Hair and her Laurence Olivier Award-winning
performance as Eva Peron in Evita, Elaine Paige continues to earn the
acclaim of
critics and audiences alike. And, as its title would suggest, Elaine Paige: Celebrating 40 Years on Stage honors the fourth-decade anniversary of the woman often called “the First Lady of British musical theater.”

Filmed in Sydney, Australia, at the beautiful State Theatre, and overseen by director Christopher Luscombe — who brings a wealth of experience with dynamic show management to bear — this title sees Paige perform her litany of West End and Broadway hits, as well as
the new song “Small Packages,” written especially for her. The show-stopping musical performances — part of Paige’s first
filmed concert since 1991 — are nicely supplemented with a hefty segment of personal anecdotes and highlights from her storied career, in the form of a bonus interview. Songs herein include “Life Goes On,” “Tomorrow,” “Easy To Be Hard, “Broadway Baby,” “I Don’t Know How To Love Him,” “Small Packages,” “Hello Young Lovers,” “Shoot the Breeze,” “Yesterday,” “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina,” “As If We Never Said Goodbye,” “By The Sea,” “I Get a Kick Out Of You,” “I Dreamed A Dream,” “I Know Him So Well,” “Poor Old John,” “If You Love Me,” “Cry Me A River,” “Memory” and “With One Look,” among others.

The DVD is presented in anamorphic widescreen with a superb Dolby stereo audio track, and its special features include a bonus performance of the song “Grow Young” as well as, most notably, a half-hour-plus behind-the-scenes interview with Paige. Also available for purchase is companion piece CD of the concert. To order a copy of Elaine Paige: Celebrating 40 Years on Stage, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or simply click here. To purchase this or other PBS DVDs with
public performance rights, meanwhile, click here. B+ (Concert) B+ (Disc)

Capitalism has taken a pounding as of late, from Michael Moore’s invigorated documentary takedown to just the general feeling floating out there in the air, where you might have a random conversation with someone at a supermarket about the financial difficulties facing them and their family, that America’s economic system no longer has at its heart the lasting interests of the common person. But against this backdrop of equal parts skepticism and populist anger arrives The New Recruits, a nonfiction film about a battalion of jet-setting
business students armed with a radical plan to help end global poverty:
to actually charge poor people for goods and services.

Produced and directed by Seth Kramer, Daniel Miller and Jeremy Newberger, and narrated sparingly by Rainn Wilson, this hour-long title focuses on three recent business school graduates tapped for the Acumen Fund‘s prestigious year-long fellows program, which encourages social entrepreneurship by placing apprentices with upstart enterprises around the world, intending to help poor people by treating them as customers rather than just the needy recipients of charity. It’s an intriguing idea, certainly — the notion that the free market has more of a vested interest in a certain baseline equitability because they will stick around longer, for reasons of profit. A shame, then, that The New Recruits — while succeeding rather smashingly as a piece of personality-driven entertainment — doesn’t really ask the tough lurking questions of its subjects when their headstrong faith in capitalism begins to somewhat wane, challenged by the choppy waters of an uneducated and/or uninterested consumer base.

The trio of subjects hail from Mumbai, California and Alabama, and after some set-up and biographical noodling with each — including a bit of uncomfortable Christianist proselytizing by the Alabama kid, with Senator Richard Shelby in the audience — we follow their year-long journeys. One is assigned to Ecotact, a company supposedly serving Kenya’s poor by building pay toilets in slums; another is sent to India to work with D.light Design, a company which manufactures solar-powered LED lights for the rural population to use instead of kerosene; the Alabama kid is sent to Pakistan and assigned to Micro Drip, a company that sells drip irrigation systems to poor farmers, and tries to wean them off of wasteful flood-irrigation. Each encounters all sorts of cultural hurdles, naturally, along with a healthy pinch of sexism (a billboard in India actually exclaims “I Hate Working Women!”) and, quite frankly, sales teams that come across as under-motivated.

It’s interesting to see these youngsters — bright, resourceful, ambitious and to varying degrees idealistic, if at times hamstrung by their own inflated egos — confront real world challenges in business environments that aren’t exactly Fortune 500-type situations. The eye-opener of the entire film — perhaps unintentionally, given the degree to which its makers try to sidestep any sense of conclusions drawn — is that for all the talk about freedom of economic choice, workable solutions mean nothing to a population that cannot grasp or be convinced of the potential for positive impact on their lives. And, of course, the hearty embrace of free markets as a silver bullet in developing nations means even less when, unlike here, it’s just about sneakers or soda pop instead of sustainable sanitation, drinking water, energy costs and the like. Don’t tell Sarah Palin, though.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case and presented in solid 16×9 widescreen transfer with an English stereo track, The New Recruits comes to DVD unfortunately devoid of supplemental features, apart from a separate menu screen touting material available on the eponymous PBS web site. To order a copy of The New Recruits, Roads to Memphis or any other PBS
title, call (800) PLAY-PBS or click here. To purchase
DVDs with public performance rights, meanwhile, click here. Finally, if Amazon is totally your thing, click here. B+ (Movie) D (Disc)

I’ve had many a conversation over a beer, or glass of wine, about how humankind’s knowledge of its own mortality is pretty much the root cause of all of our anxieties, aggressions and troubles. The lurking recognition of a finite period of time in which to luxuriate, however much we try to cram that deeper into the recesses of our minds, warps our thinking, and leads to fitful acting out or otherwise perverted rationalizations. After all, who doesn’t want more of life, just on their own terms?

Well, some folks, of course. Life is hard, and psychological thriller After.Life, written and directed by Agnieszka Wojtowicz-Vosloo, centers on someone for whom it might just not be worth it anymore, no matter the recent trajectory. In telling the story of a young woman caught up between life and death, it assays in intriguing fashion a unique viewpoint — the forlorn depressive — not frequently accorded much front-and-center screen time.

Elementary school teacher Anna Jordan (Christina Ricci) has suffered through plenty in her life, some of which is spelled out and some of which is only hinted at. She’s built up a wall around herself, though, that much is evident — even though she has a boyfriend, Paul Coleman (Justin Long), who clearly loves her, and wants to take their relationship to the next level. An argument at dinner one night leads to a car
accident, after which Anna wakes up to find herself on the preparatory table of local funeral director Eliot Deacon
(Liam Neeson). He calmly tells her she’s dead, and that her
funeral is in three days time. At first Anna doesn’t believe him. Does Eliot truly have the
gift to talk to the dead and help them transition to the afterlife? Or
is he concealing a more sinister secret? As time passes and her funeral service looms, Anna becomes resigned to passing on into whatever realm awaits her, but Paul launches his own investigation, unconvinced of her death.

After.Life, Wojtowicz-Vosloo’s feature debut, has a quiet, unfussy sense of cool menace, in addition to low-fi style to burn, told as it is in claustrophobic fashion in a muted palette of greys and blues, with Anna’s blood red slip purposefully serving as a visual signifier of her predicament. (The filmmaker’s choice of end credit music, Radiohead’s haunting “Exit Music for a Film,” further underscores her arthouse inclinations, and clear preference for emotional murkiness.) For most of its running time, this dance of tenuous reality works. At a certain point, however, the grip of its hold starts to loosen, mainly the result of a narrative strand involving a student of Anna’s, which feels either like a wholesale miscalculation or fumbled execution (take your pick). Unarguably, though, after so trading on ambiguity in a facile manner, the movie in its last six minutes tacks on one too many appended twists, aiming for a more corporeal and “complete,” forward-leaning payoff that just isn’t necessary.

If Ricci isn’t afforded quite enough meaty dialogue to fully color her character and take the film’s mopey doom and gloom to truly dizzying heights, the acting here is still
engaging, and in particular some of the scenes involving Neeson’s
character holding forth on death have an eerie quality, given the
still-recent passing of his wife, Natasha Richardson. At the very least After.Life deserves points for the atypical nature of its effort. If Wojtowicz-Vosloo doesn’t fully follow her instincts, but instead seemingly yields to her idea of what an air-quote commercial take on such subject matter would be, well… it’s hardly the most venal of filmmaking sins.

After.Life comes to Blu-ray presented in 1080p, in 2.40:1 widescreen, with Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound and PCM 5.1 audio tracks, as well as optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles. Its supplemental features, in addition to its own preview and trailers for forthcoming DVD releases of Spartacus and The Disappearance of Alice Creed, consist of an audio commentary track with Wojtowicz-Vosloo and a fairly short making-of featurette in which she is also the chief figure. Both are heavy with spoilers, and in the latter, somewhat surprisingly, the filmmaker actually addresses her work’s ambiguity, answering outright the question of Anna and Eliot’s respective states, and — not unlike Richard Kelly’s deflating Donnie Darko audio commentary track — taking some of the punch out of her work in the process. To purchase the Blu-ray via Amazon, click here. If DVD is your thing, meanwhile, click here. B (Movie) C+ (Disc)

As the public debate over homosexuality pivots from generalized tolerance and more toward the issue of marriage equality, it’s becoming harder for many under 30 or so to remember a time when the idea of a public homosexual identity was actually such a big deal. Word Is Out, which debuted in 1977 as the first feature-length documentary about lesbian
and gay identity made by gay filmmakers, and now three-plus decades later makes it DVD debut, takes viewers back in time to that era.

Formed in the mid-1970s, the Mariposa Film Group consisted of Peter Adair, his sister Nancy Adair, Andrew Brown, Rob Epstein (The Times of Harvey Milk), Lucy Massie Phenix (Winter Soldier) and Veronica Selver. They were a group that sought to create a simple and straightforward film free of political didactics — a movie that would reflect the complex experience of both growing up gay and coming out of the closet in America. After conducting 140 interviews, the filmmakers narrowed their focus to a couple more than two dozen people encompassing various races, ages and regional backgrounds. They then simply let the cameras roll, and recorded their stories.

Both through a theatrical release and prime-time television broadcasts, Word Is
Out quickly became a sociocultural landmark in socially-minded independent cinema, helping untold numbers of people accept themselves, and also introducing to friends and
families the notion that gay people weren’t somehow radically different than them. As a film, Word Is Out holds up because of its inherent emotional honesty; one senses the almost subterranean electrical charge coming off of some of these subjects, as they verbalize feelings for the first time in their lives. (On that front, it’s tangentially interesting to observe how many interviewees
enjoy the crutch of a smoke or beer while they recount feelings of isolation, desperation and the like.) The stories crackle with energy, and run the full gamut of human emotion.

The Outfest Legacy Project and UCLA Film & Television Archive worked
in painstaking fashion to restore the film, and this DVD release is pegged to the 40th anniversary of the first Gay Pride marches. That this stirring nonfiction work, a prima facie document of considerable humanistic import, can now move, charm, engage and perhaps further galvanize future generations is a good thing.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Word Is Out comes to DVD with English SDH subtitles, and a wealth of fairly engaging bonus material that properly contextualizes the film. A 25-minute, then-and-now retrospective includes interview material with the filmmakers and many of the film’s participants, as well as David Bohnett, whose generous contribution helped make the high-definition video restoration of this DVD premiere possible. Another featurette, quoting liberally from an article penned by Peter Adair, entitled “So You Wanna Be a Collective,” assays the collaborative nature of the movie’s production, and a separate tidbit also provides a more detailed breakdown of the Mariposa Film Group’s history. A trailer for the movie, afterthoughts by participants, a standalone chat with the aforementioned Bohnett and an Outfest Legacy Project PSA round out the supplemental material. To purchase the DVD directly, phone (800) 603-1104, or click here. Or if Amazon is totally your thing, click here. B+ (Movie) B+ (Disc)

The success of Easy Rider spawned all sorts of indulgent, wonky and mostly terrible “free love,” anti-establishment knock-offs, but one of the more notable arrives on home video for the first time in any format in Gold: Before Woodstock, Beyond Reality. A goofy, loose-limbed, nudity-filled western musical dramedy, the movie stars improvisational godhead Del Close, who would populate only bit roles and cameos in TV series and movies (mostly those that came through Chicago, like Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and The Untouchables), but through his teachings come to influence some of the biggest names in comedy over the past 30-plus years.

In the summer of 1968, filmmaker Bob Levis led a rag-tag band of drop-outs and drug-happy darlings (some with professional acting experience, some not) into the California wilderness to make a movie loosely centered around the notion of a killjoy police captain, Harold Jinks (Garry Goodrow), and his battles with a crippled eccentric, Hawk (Close), in bringing an end to all the debauchery in his community. The result is Gold, a bizarre journey into the mind and madness of the late 1960s — a project overflowing with fantasies of revolution, recreation and sexual experimentation, and fueled by a groovy, funky soundtrack that includes MC5 and more.

In all honesty, while the movie itself is a profound potpourri — and thus holds some interesting standalone lessons from a certain academic and anthropological point-of-view, mostly for the manner in which it sets out to systematically shatter various filmmaking rules — it doesn’t hold up that well, narratively speaking. Close’s performance is a cracked, wily thing, though, and the disc itself holds such an abundance of colorful reminiscences that aging boomers –even those who missed out on all the partying the first go-round — may want to give this title a spin.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case with snap-shut hinges, Gold comes to DVD presented in 1.33:1 full screen, divided into 18 chapters, with a main menu screen music loop that repeats every eight seconds or so, and will infiltrate your brain if you get pulled away to a string of emails upon start-up, and leave it playing in the background. The movie boasts two superlative feature-length audio commentary tracks. The first, with director Levis and star Goodrow, contains plenty of warm production anecdotes and other behind-the-scenes stories (Levis used to date star Caroline Parr), and tangentially provides an intriguing sort of time capsule snapshot of DIY production from that era.

There’s also a special
commentary track from Upright Citizens Brigade founding members Matt Walsh and
Ian Roberts, each of whom studied under Close. While this chat takes a while to warm up, the nature of the duo’s recollections is broad-ranging and fascinating, especially when they get into Close’s battles with addiction (he kicked alcohol through aversion therapy, gave up speed and other drugs, but kept smoking weed and cigarettes, and would also lecture passersby on the so-called “hobo code” of not rubbing out a butt with the heel of one’s shoe) and depression (he would attempt suicide a number of times). Close was a fascinating character, full of contradictions, and this presentation of Gold hearteningly allows him one final curtain call.

The other supplemental material is just as engaging, starting with a wide-ranging hour-long 2008 interview chat with Levis by Harold Channer from a New York City public access cable show. There’s also 10 minutes of material from a good-natured roast of Goodrow, plus trailers for Gold and a half dozen other films, and a self-scrolling presentation of lobby card art from the movie’s original release. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C- (Movie) A- (Disc)

Casual fans may know only Mick Jagger’s strut and sneer, and Keith Richards’ seemingly unlikely hold on life, but the years during which Mick Taylor was the fifth Rolling Stone are often regarded as part of the band’s golden age, the period in which the group recorded some of the
finest and most adventurous music of their career.

On landmark albums like Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers and Exile On Main Street, the Stones’ sound underwent a metamorphosis as they developed new ideas and were informed by a range of new influences. At the center of those changes was Taylor’s sophisticated blues and jazz licks, and fluid style of playing that really gave the Stones an added dimension for a five-year period stretching into the mid-1970s — one they lacked before and have certainly had much trouble recapturing since.

New to DVD, hour-long doc The Rolling Stones 1969-1974: The Mick Taylor Years tells the behind-the-scenes story of this hugely productive era for the group. Interviews with Taylor and John Mayall form the spine of the work, but the roster of talking heads is deep, formidable and well-heeled, including author and group colleague Robert Greenfield; Village Voice music editor Robert Christgau, U.K. music critic Barney Hoskyns and Stones session musicians Al Perkins and Bill Plummer, among others. While a lot of music documentaries targeting boomer audiences run ashore on the shoals of rights issues and ergo tend to err on the side of academic dryness, this program thankfully also includes liberal performance footage of the Stones, as well as a nice smattering of archive interviews and other footage. While it doesn’t totally get to the bottom of how others necessarily felt about Taylor’s departure (punted or otherwise muddied songwriting credits were an issue, it seems), this title is an engaging and intellectually honest exploration of the difficulties inherent in nurturing creative relationships amidst a backdrop of druggy, world-touring excess.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, The Rolling Stones 1969-1974: The Mick Taylor Years comes to DVD on a region-free disc in a regular plastic Amaray case, in turn stored in a cardboard slipcover. The feature is presented in a 4:3 aspect ratio, with a fairly robust English language stereo sound mix. In addition to a roster of contributor biographies, DVD extras include a featurette in which Mayall and music historian Alan
Clayson provide a nice biographical sketch of Taylor prior to his entry with the Rolling
Stones. To purchase the DVD, click here. Or if Amazon is totally and inescapably your thing, click here. B (Movie) C+ (Disc)