A pleasant enough dramedy about shaking free of teenage obligations and working to secure one’s own future, or at least a better sense of that path, director John Stockwell’s Middle of Nowhere is the filmic equivalent of a solid mid-tempo rock track — free of many of the preordained grooves of more discretely defined comedic or dramatic young adult genre pieces, and yet destined, for all its buoyant low-grade, character-fed quirkiness, to never really land a lasting emotional blow.

The story centers on a rebellious, 17-year-old screw-up from a wealthy family, Dorian Spitz (Anton Yelchin), who finally exhausts the patience of his adoptive parents. They ship him off for the summer break to live with his strict, disciplinarian uncle, who promptly bans Dorian from driving, advising that “walking builds blisters, and blisters build character.” Henceforth, Dorian lands a job at a local water park and, ever in need of transportation, strikes up a
friendship with the slightly older Grace (Eva Amurri), who’s spent the last half dozen years looking after her
younger sister Taylor (Willa Holland) following their father’s suicide. Grace’s mother Rhonda (Amurri’s real-life mom, Susan Sarandon) is a self-centered force of nature who sees
herself as a martyr for the sacrifices she’s made to keep her family
together.

In reality, though, she’s a steady stream of roadblocks for Grace, too busy trying to impress her dreams of a modeling career on Taylor to tend to Grace’s educational future. In fact, by taking out credit cards in her daughter’s name and neglecting to make payments, Rhonda has seemingly doomed Grace’s chances of going to college, unless the latter
raises a cool $12,000 in three months to cover tuition. Enter Dorian, ever the schemer. Hatching a plot to sell pot, he strikes a business deal with the practical-minded Grace, who sets aside her objections but soon finds her arrangement with Dorian complicated by burgeoning feelings for rich boy Ben (Justin Chatwin).

At its core, Middle of Nowhere is about realizing that familial bonds don’t always translate smoothly into functional relationships, adult or otherwise, and finding a way to manage those relationships while also surrounding oneself with (nominally) more positive influences who support your goals. The problem is that while it’s anchored by likable young performers, there’s not quite enough of a dark streak here to give the material some weight, and a honest sense of lurking disaster. While it’s understandable that she would want to escape the destructive clutches and impulses of her mother, Grace’s ambition are fairly lightly sketched, and Amurri consistently plays to the sunnier instincts of her character, even in emotional moments.

Michelle Morgan’s script deserves points for realistically showcasing how quickly the swirl of teenage feeling can inform decision-making (and allowing Stockwell to further indulge his under-recognized appreciation of the female backside), but, without getting too far into the specifics, the movie’s ending fundamentally ignores the most basic libidinal impulses of adolescence, and how male judgment and kindness come online, as it were, typically much later than their female counterparts.

Middle of Nowhere comes to Blu-ray presented in 1.85:1 widescreen 1080p high-definition, with a DTS-HD master audio 5.1 sound mix, and optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles. In the bonus material, Stockwell (Blue Crush, Into the Blue) jokes about being unable to escape from water, as location scouting turned up a water park on the edge of Baton Rouge that ended up being a much more visually engaging place of employment for Grace and Dorian than what was originally written, a grocery store. The cast and crew interviews, including with producer David Lancaster, are engaging, but there’s unfortunately an awful lot of yawning plot recap in the 25-minute making-of featurette that accompanies the disc. Six minutes of deleted scenes find Dorian sketching out some of his uncle’s spartan rules in conversation with Grace, and also extend laundry room dance sequence in which Dorian impulsively plants a kiss on Grace. The film’s trailer rounds out materials. To purchase the Blu-ray via Amazon, click here; to purchase the regular DVD, meanwhile, click here. B- (Movie) B- (Disc)

When I first grabbed a copy of Worse Than War out of the stacks for review, I assumed, just based on the title, that it was a Black Eyed Peas concert DVD, or perhaps a sequel to Inbred Redneck Vampires. Whoops, my bad. It’s actually a sobering look at the history and causes of ethnic cleansing (the gut-punch subtitle is “Genocide, Eliminationalism, and the Ongoing Assault on Humanity”), which touches on religion, skin color and our all-too-human tendency to only care about those who (most outwardly) look like us, but also spends a bit of time digging deeper into the human psyche, and examining the parts of us that seem driven to try to eradicate others from the face of the Earth.

Running just under two hours, director Mike DeWitt’s adaptation of Daniel Jonah Goldhagen’s book of the same name manages to be at once a personal exploration of the horrors of genocide, while also a more academically-inflected disquisition on the nature of ethnic cleansing and large-scale mass murder. Documenting Goldhagen’s travels, teachings, discussions and opinions, Worse Than War offers insights into genocide’s dimensions, causes and patterns — and the ongoing role it plays in politics and human affairs. What makes the movie — what truly gives it its emotional punch — is its broad scope, and range of interviewees. Goldhagen speaks with victims, perpetrators, witnesses, politicians, diplomats, historians, humanitarian aid workers and journalists, all with the purpose of understanding and explaining the critical features of genocide, and how it might be prevented and stopped.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Worse Than War comes to DVD presented in 16×9 widescreen, with an English language stereo track. Its sole bonus feature, apart from a menu screen touting PBS’ web site, is an extended interview chat with author Goldhagen on the making of the film, and what first sparked him to pen his book. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or simply click here. Or, if Amazon is totally your thing, click here to purchase. B+ (Movie) C+ (Disc)

The Spanish guitar used in flamenco is an epic instrument, and its story is weaved throughout Benise: The Spanish Guitar. Integrating live performance with real footage, viewers travel with American-born Roni Benise as he trips across the globe. If, owing considerably to the worshipful cinematography and framing, one can’t help but snicker a little bit and envision him as some sort of Saturday Night Live sketch character, the title still connects in fairly robust fashion because of its music.

From the cobblestone streets of Old Havana to an Arabian desert, from the romantic canals of Venice to the oldest bullring in Spain, from a quaint Paris café to a 2000-year-old sacred Buddhist temple in India, watch as the enchanted Spanish Guitar becomes a treasure chest of inspiration — the keeper of stories of glory and tragedy through times and worlds gone by. Benise’s masterful guitar playing, brilliantly choreographed dance numbers and moving orchestral pieces — as well as the unparalleled beauty of some of the Gitanas dancers — give Spanish dance and music a luminous makeover.

The disc’s musical selection rundown is as follows: Act I is comprised of an overture, followed by “Lovers Theme,” “Strings of Fire,” “Gypsy Nights,” “Spanish Guitar” with Kimberly Locke, and “Malagueña.” There are also two vignettes, “The Quest” and “The Duel.” Act II is comprised of vignettes from “The Masquerade” and “The Marionettes,” plus “Mi Amor,” “Café Paris” (with Nick and Lena from Dancing with the Stars), “The Prince” and “Arabesque Aranjuez.” The third act, meanwhile, includes “The Sun” (a Havana-set vignette), “Cuba Libre” (with Dave Koz), “Tango de Besame,” a club mix of “Bamboleo,” “The Priestess” (another Havana-set vignette), “Firedance” and “Evermore (The Wedding Song),” with Giorgia Fumanti.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Benise: The Spanish Guitar comes to DVD in 1.78:1 widescreen, with an English language Dolby stereo audio track. Five bonus world music videos are included. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or click here. B- (Concert) B (Disc)

Inbred Redneck Vampires has exactly one thing going for it, in the form of its DVD cover, in which a “tramp stamp” Confederate flag tattoo rises alluringly over a pair of jeans, blood trickling down the bare back of its cover model. Unfortunately not even this potentially lucrative one-sheet image is clearly rendered; it’s awash in muddy grey, which is a telling metaphor for the across-the-board failure of what could otherwise be a stupid-fun romp through an exploitative, made-for-video premise.

A micro-budgeted, schlocky 2004 comedy only now receiving a home video
release, the provocatively titled Inbred Redneck Vampires finds sexy vampire Catherine (Felicia Pandolfi) and her lackey/underling Lendel (Werewolf Tales‘ Warren E.B.B., impressively preserving the anonymity of three-quarters of his name) on the run from a ruthless vampire hunter. After stumbling across Billy Joe Barney Bob (Robert Olin), they take refuge in the small rural burgh of Backwash, where Catherine hatches a plan to turn the backwoods folk into an army of vampire slaves. Beer drinking, bean eating, tripe cooking, shower peeping (above), competitive farting, terrible puns, and all other manner of forced line readings and sigh-inducing inanity ensue, leading up to the town’s annual Tripe Days Festival.

The back of the DVD cover box touts the movie as “combining the gross-out and physical comedy of Animal House and American Pie with the country humor of Hee Haw,” but that’s sort of akin to saying Fear Dot Com shares a lot in common with The Exorcist since they’re both horror films. Director and co-writer Joe Sherlock may be a veteran of over two dozen independent features and anthologies, but his work here doesn’t even have any sleazy sexploitation value for avowed fans of off-the-beaten-path regional video. (The movie was shot in Washington and Oregon, with a cast of largely local non-professionals.)

A lot can be forgiven by way of shoddy technical execution if there’s just a little pop to the material — some snarky fun to be had in the tangled weeds of the dialogue, or a performance that’s wild, zonked and/or enjoyably amusing. Inbred Redneck Vampires simply doesn’t have any of those things going for it, however. (There is a dwarf [also above, leering], if that matters to anyone.) The set-ups are mostly flat, the framing and camerawork is atrocious, the performances uniformly cringe-inducing (broad, without benefit of a backdrop and pacing that tonally matches), and the nature of the material unsettled and very much up in the air. Don’t judge a book by its cover, they say. The same applies to shlocky B-movies, if anyone needed a reminder.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Inbred Redneck Vampires comes to DVD presented in 16×9 widescreen, divided into 29 chapters, with an English language stereo audio track. Bonus material arrives by way of 10 minutes worth of bloopers (in which tubby guys reveal some man-cleavage and one gal mock-fellates a microphone), a trailer for the movie, and an 11-minute behind-the-scenes featurette, which reveals the movie’s original title as Bloodsucking Redneck Vampires, and spotlights the nature of DIY indie film production, by way of a wardrobe story involving a panicked run to the nearest Target, one town away. There are nine trailers for other Sub Rosa Studios releases, too, including for movies entitled Ski Wolf and, ahem, Terror at Blood Fart Lake (yes, seriously). A braver critic would have perhaps given due diligence and investigated the latter; I skipped it, alas. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. F (Movie) C- (Disc)

The idea of mechanized roving security cameras that go schizoid and start slaying people — perhaps at the behest of nefarious establishment masters, perhaps not — inescapably aligns with surging modern fears about privacy, and technological intrusion. That’s Eyeborgs, in a nutshell. There’s delicious potential here, if it’s in the right hands — someone like Paul Verhoeven, perhaps, or David Cronenberg. But Highlander‘s Adrian Paul and some kid who looks like he might be cast as Robert Pattinson in a high school production of some emo Twilight fiction… well, they’re not the right hands. That’s all I’m saying.

Set in the near future, when the fear of terrorism has escalated into absolute, media-stoked hysteria (i.e., after the next successful Stateside terror attack), Eyeborgs posits a world where, in order to deal with the paranoia, robotic cameras are everywhere — in people’s homes, on the streets, in the workplace — in order to monitor things, and keep everyone safe. But are the cameras really being used to keep America safe… or to safekeep Americans?

Federal agent Gunner Reynolds (Paul, perhaps operating under the assumption that he’s being paid in per-ounce emoting) becomes suspicious of this prowling, precautionary system after a series of murders occur in which the video records don’t seem to align with the physical evidence. Recruiting the help of TV news reporter Barbara Hawkins (Megan Blake) and the President’s punkish, purple-haired nephew, Jarett Hewes, (Luke Eberl), Gunner angles to discover who’s really controlling the eyeborgs, with reclusive political dissident G-Man (Danny Trejo) providing the valuable initial assessment that the little buggers seem to be weaponized.

Eyeborgs might sound schlocky, but the potential for derisible special effects hampering its effectiveness actually ranks far down on the list of problems. Director Richard Clabaugh keeps things moving at a decent clip, and the CGI work is… adequate, at least. Let’s say that. Clabaugh doesn’t succumb to the feeling or need to feature a straight-on effects shot when something a bit more integrated and fleeting might work just as well. And if Eyeborgs doesn’t quite, on an intellectual level, fully dig into the provocative themes that its conceit raises, the film at least amply earns its R rating without dipping too far into over-the-top gore. Unfortunately, the movie’s dialogue is hammy and on-the-nose, and its acting simply not up to snuff. Repeatedly, the movie fumbles away any sense of accrued momentum or suspense, with screwball inflections and other oddly timed freak-outs.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Eyeborgs comes to DVD presented in a 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer, with an English language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track, and optional English and Spanish subtitles. Special features consist of a small handful of deleted scenes, the movie’s trailer, and a nice, lengthy behind-the-scenes featurette which blends cast and crew interviews, some on-set footage and clips from the film. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. In addition, the film is available via digital download. C (Movie) B- (Disc)

Movies detailing the lives of corrupt, disinterested and/or tempted New York police officers could and probably should constitute their own subgenre Netflix listing, and that’s where Brooklyn’s Finest, a very masculine, surface-level slice of familiar cop drama, slots. Those inclined to like this sort of thing will find enough about it to like; others will likely shrug.

Unfolding over the course of one chaotic week, the movie centers around three conflicted Big Apple cops whose discrete stories eventually come together in a massive drug sting operation. There’s burned-out veteran Eddie Dugan (Richard Gere), one week away from retirement; narcotics officer and family man Sal Procida (Ethan Hawke), who’s grappling with a gnarly house mold problem (yes, seriously) and struggling to make ends meet for his seven children; and equally stressed-out
Clarence “Tango” Butler (Don Cheadle), who’s been undercover so long his
loyalties might have started to shift from his fellow officers to old
friend Caz (Wesley Snipes), a drug dealer just out of prison. With
pressures bearing down on them, each man is forced to make some tough
decisions that have lasting consequences, both anticipated (to them) and
unforeseen.

It’s not a grade-A slur to say that Brooklyn’s Finest
feels entirely constructed from prefabricated parts, or like the
comeback single from a reconstituted band. There’s Fuqua and Hawke,
reuniting from Training Day; Snipes, playing a character who could be a
cousin of New Jack City’s Nino Brown; and Cheadle working undercover, as in
Traitor. Fuqua shoots the film with much style and pop-off energy, but the plotting here is
strictly by the book — except for Gere’s story strand, actually, which
flirts with intrigue in detailing his complicated relationship with a
hooker (Shannon Kane). Unfortunately, audiences can’t dictate which
story of the triptych to stick with, so the finest portions of Brooklyn’s Finest are forced to exist in timeshare lockstep with the more boring portions. That makes even a curious, look-see rental a 50-50 satisfying proposition, at best.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Brooklyn’s Finest comes to DVD presented in 2.40:1 anamorphic widescreen, with English stereo and Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio tracks, and optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles. Four separate behind-the-scenes featurettes run a combined 25 minutes, and track the film’s 41-day production schedule fairly well. Fuqua is an articulate guy who has a lot of thoughtful empathy for his movie’s characters, and Hawke also has some interesting things to say about how Fuqua has gotten even better as a director since their previous collaboration. Furthermore, screenwriter Michael Martin’s personal biography (he was working as a toll booth operator while penning the script at night, and eventually leveraged a second place finish in a script contest into a production sale) is an inspiration to those that would continue to pursue their dreams against considerable odds. A whopping 30-plus minutes of deleted scenes is also included. There’s also the movie’s trailer, and a small clutch of other previews, including for Pandorum, The Crazies and three other films. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. To purchase the Blu-ray via Amazon, meanwhile, click here. C (Movie) B (Disc)

Christopher Isherwood’s semi-autobiographical novel forms the basis of fashion designer Tom Ford’s directorial debut, an exactingly constructed, mostly well acted period piece drama about a broken man who, in the wake of his longtime gay companion’s death, can scarcely see any sort of future on the horizon. It hangs on a superb performance from Colin Firth, and features a few stirring moments of quiet, aching melancholy — the sort of private, swallowed pain that is infrequently attempted and even less successfully captured on screen in Hollywood studio fare — but isn’t quite a gobsmacked-level dramatic keeper for the ages.

Set in Los Angeles over the course of but a few days in 1962, A Single Man centers on George Falconer (Firth, Oscar-nominated), a 52-year-old British college professor struggling to find meaning after the sudden death of his boyfriend Jim (Matthew Goode). George is consoled, if rather brusquely, by his closest friend, Charley (Julianne Moore), a 48-year-old Tanqueray depository wrestling with her own questions about the future. As George ponders suicide, a young student coming to terms with his own true nature, Kenny (About a Boy‘s Nicholas Hoult, all growed up), feels in George a sort of kindred spirit, and makes it a point to reach out to him.

On a certain level, A Single Man seems to posit that isolation and loneliness is an inescapable and inherent part of the human condition, which makes the performance of Hoult, who communicates in batted eyelashes and seems a little too cutesy-pinup to pull off the necessary emotional maturity required in his increasing flirtations with his teacher, additionally problematic. (George’s chance liquor store encounter with a Spanish hustler, played by Jon Kortajarena, meanwhile, comes across as intriguing but still fairly believable for this very reason — because it’s a fantasy digression from the order, structure and “safety” of his previously settled world.) Mine is something of a minority opinion on Hoult, I realize. His performance was praised by numerous critics, and tabbed for a Rising Star nomination at last year’s BAFTA Awards. But to me, Kenny comes across as an idealized angel ripped from the pages of some Calvin Klein ad, and not someone that George would be interested in, particularly given what we see of his relationship with Jim.

There’s an delicateness to the production; Ford’s fashion sense informs every frame, and Eduard Grau’s cinematography is striking. But there’s also a bit of fussiness in some of the art direction — by the time the third symbolic underwater sequence comes along, it feels a bit much. Still, Firth is absolutely excellent, sublimating some of the bumbling charm that’s made him such a crush of the literate thirtysomething female crowd. In almost single-handed fashion, he makes A Single Man worth seeing.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, A Single Man comes to DVD presented in 2.40:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language 5.1 Dolby digital audio track, and optional Spanish and English SDH subtitles. Supplemental bonus features come by of a quite thoughtful audio commentary track with Ford, as well as a 16-minute making-of featurette, which splices black-and-white interview clips with cast and crew with on-set footage and film clips in relatively obligatory fashion. A gallery of trailers for other Sony home video releases rounds out the affair. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B (Movie) B- (Disc)

An ultra-racy comedy from Danish erotica maestro Werner Hedman, 1972’s In the Sign of Scorpio centers on a secret agent who’s on the trail of a highly coveted roll of CIA microfilm he believes to be hidden in a loaf of bread.

Like fellow Tegn imports In the Sign of the Virgin and In the Sign of the Taurus, this movie blends slapstick action, comedic misunderstanding and dialogue laden with double entendres, along with a healthy pinch (five to eight percent, I’d calculate) of hardcore action. All the usual sorts of adult flick set-ups are here (some hot tub intrigue, an under-the-table encounter), but Hedman has a gift with sustaining a fun, randy tone, and seeds his work, of which this is a top-shelf example, with enough outlandish screwball elements (a dwarf assassin, say) to keep an audience engagingly off-balance.

Hedman was a jack-of-all-trades, serving as his own writer, cinematographer and editor, and his exacting authorial presence is evident throughout, as the production value, costumes and settings aren’t chintzy, and there’s a complexly choreographed ballroom dance sequence that would, were it not for the nudity, likely draw some nice scores and judges’ comments on Dancing With the Stars. Some of the ladies are easy on the eyes, certainly, but also gifted comediennes. Most engaging, though, is Ole Soltoft, whose loose-limbed work as mock-suave Special Agent Jensen Master is a thing to behold. Poul Bundgaard, Gina Janssen, Kate Mundt and Judy Gringer also star.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, In the Sign of Scorpio comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, with a Danish 2.0 stereo audio track and optional English subtitles. The main menu is animated, as is the DVD’s separate chapter menu, which divides the movie into 12 scene selections. The only bonus feature is a two-and-a-half-minute slide show of images from the movie. Werner passed away in 2005, and his frequent collaborator Soltoft died in 1999 from heart complications, making their participation in any sort of retrospective interviews an obvious impossibility, but it’s really a shame that this title and the other Tegn releases from distributor Smirk didn’t include at least some sort of talking-head/critic interviews, because these films aren’t empty masturbatory fodder. Far, far from it, in fact — I’d argue that Hedman had something few filmmakers of his era or any era since have had: a clear and direct connection to conveying, within an otherwise goofy and ridiculous narrative conceit, just how thrilling and fun sex can actually be with the right, engaged type of partner. B+ (Movie) D (Disc)

With a shockingly deep catalog of dozens of albums, and sales topping more than 30 million, Lynyrd Skynyrd remains a major cultural icon, still known to a remarkably wide audience for more than just their beloved Southern rock anthem “Sweet Home Alabama,” which, incidentally, lights up more than two million phones as a downloaded ringtone. The band was recently inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, and the group’s latest album, Gods & Guns, debuted on the Billboard Top 20 at #18, representing their highest chart bow since 1977.

It’s against this backdrop that Live From Freedom Hall, one of the last concerts Lynyrd Skynyrd recorded with longtime members Billy Powell and Ean Evans, each of whom passed away last year, streets as both a concert CD and DVD. With Johnny Van Zant on vocals, providing plenty of arm pumps and crowd-stoking greetings (sample: “How ’bout that, Kentucky?”), this well-photographed show solidly showcases the band’s own inimitable brand of stubborn, scruffy, stubbled, deep-fried rock ‘n’ roll, in which boozy, armchair patriotism meets catchy melodies and riffs.

Gary Rossington and Rickey Medlocke man lead guitars, Powell takes care of keyboards, Evans is on bass, Michael Cartellone on drums, Mark Matejka on guitar and Dale Krantz Rossington and Carol Chase provide back-up vocals. “Travelin’ Man,” and “Workin'” open the set, followed by “What’s
Your Name?,” “That Smell,” and a nice rendition of “Simple Man.” The track listing for the rest of the album is as follows: “Down South Jukin’,” “The
Needle and the Spoon,” “Ballad of Curtis Loew,” “Gimme Back My
Bullets,” “Tuesday’s Gone,” “Red White and Blue,” “Gimme Three
Steps,” and “Call Me the Breeze.” “Sweet Home Alabama” and “Free Bird” aren’t played… just kidding! They close the show, of course, and send everyone home happy.

Benefiting from a superb transfer and unfussy direction that neither eschews timely cutting nor indulges in multiple angles willy-nilly, just for cutting’s sake, the DVD is available separately, in a regular plastic Amaray case in a 1.33:1 full frame presentation, with robust Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound and 2.0 stereo audio tracks, or as part of a CD-DVD deluxe set, which lets you take the concert on the road with you. To purchase the CD-DVD combo from Amazon, meanwhile, click here. The group is also on tour throughout the summer. For a full
schedule, and other information about the band, click here. B (Concert) C (Disc)

It’s a fine line that historically inclined documentaries about assassinations like Roads to Memphis have to walk, assaying the actions and motivations of their unpalatable subjects without raising them to the same venerated level of those whom they slew.

Running 82 minutes, this PBS American Experience offering, part of the longest-running history series on TV, artfully and movingly does just that, providing a sober look at the events leading up to and immediately following the April 4, 1968 assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., without getting into killer James Earl Ray’s recantation of his guilty plea and his labyrinthine (and dubious) claims of complicity in a conspiracy, nor his brief 1977 escape from prison and the King family’s subsequent embrace of the belief that he had nothing to do with the murder. Instead, built around stirring reminiscences from King’s inner circle and some of the officials involved in Ray’s capture and
prosecution, as well as other talking heads, Emmy Award-winning director Stephen Ives’ Roads to Memphis provides an important snapshot of a seething and turbulent time and place in American society.

Jesse Jackson is notably absent from the interviewee roster of former aides to the Nobel Peace Prize-winning preacher, but Samuel Kyles, Roger Wilkins and Andrew Young (who notes, “We were never concerned with who killed Martin Luther King, but what killed Martin Luther King”) all offer valuable contextual detail, both in terms of King’s physical movements and actions, but also what was going on in his head in the weeks and days leading up to his death. Similarly, the roster of “establishment” talking heads is articulate and insightful, including among its ranks former CBS News anchorman Dan Rather, writer Gerald Posner, historian Wayne Flynt and Hampton Sides, author of Hellhound on His Trail: The Stalking of Martin Luther King, Jr. and the International Hunt for His Assassin. Most arresting, however, might just be some of the Memphis sanitation workers whose labor strike brought King to their town. Their recollections of their interactions with King, including his remarks to a packed church congregation the rainy evening before his death, put a powerful personal sheen on this documentary, giving it an emotional punch to match its academic insight.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Roads to Memphis comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language stereo audio track. Divided into 11 chapters, the title includes an eight-minute extended interview session with aforementioned author Sides, a Memphis native who, though only six or seven years old at the time, recalls being pulled out of school and taken out of town by his parents in the days following the shooting, since they feared more violence to come. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or simply click here. Or, to purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B+ (Movie) B- (Disc)

The writing and directing debut of Parks and Recreation actor Paul Schneider, Pretty Bird is an ambling, relatively forced-cute rumination on hazy American ambition, wherein the cart of end result is always put before the horse of honed idea. In some ways a cross between Tucker and The Music Man, the film sails along for a while on the charm of its lead actors, but ultimately unwinds into a messy, unsatisfying spool of questionable motivations, curious actions and unresolved loose ends.

Adapted from Paul Brown’s book The Rocketball Caper: A True Tale of Invention, Obsession and Murder, the movie, which debuted at the Sundance Film Festival two years ago, tells the story of three would-be entrepreneurs who join forces and set out to invent and market a personal rocket belt. Curtis Prentiss (Billy Crudup) is the forcefully upbeat driving personality behind the entire endeavor, which comes together under the banner of a company Curtis names Fantastic Technologies, Inc. Curtis hits up his best friend, Kenny Owenby (David Hornsby), who owns and operates a mattress store, for seed money. He also uses some of that cash to sign the brains of the operation, Richard Honeycutt (Paul Giamatti), a married ex-rocket scientist wallowing in a funk of depression ever since being laid off from his job.

For a while, a set of mysterious blueprints which give Richard a nice head start on
the contraption, along with Curtis’ indefatigably positive, can-do mindset and offbeat sensibilities (he wears a white tuxedo to an eventual field test of the contraption, above) seem to be enough. Maybe this brash, unconventional start-up will yield startlingly successful results. Soon, though, Richard begins to wonder why none of Curtis’ investors seem to be coming through. As personalities clash and contrasting agendas seem to emerge, the partnership begins to unravel in unexpected ways. Kristen Wiig and Anna Camp also appear, as Kenny’s secretary and Curtis’ married neighbor, respectively.

Pretty Bird has some charm and plenty of diverting amusement around the edges, mostly courtesy of some warped banter, but is mightily dinged by a too-cute elliptical ending, which makes a reach for some metaphorical significance where there is none. At the core of the film’s problems is its enervated tone. Additionally, there’s not enough of a forced perspective through Curtis to make his paranoia and petty tyrannical rants — born of an intellectual insecurity — truly matter, or pop. Is Curtis merely quixotic, or deeply unhinged? We don’t ever really get a firm answer on this front, which would actually be fine if someone other than Richard — who is motivated by his own concerns over being squeezed out, and denied the glory of credit — seemed to actually care. Kenny, however, is a sop — a weirdly, purely functional character, which is problematic when constructing a shared-perspective character piece.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case with hollowed-out spindles that are, you know, in theory better for the environment, Pretty Bird comes to DVD presented in a crisp, color-consistent widescreen transfer, with an English language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track with optional English subtitles. Apart from the obligatory chapter stops (15, in this case), there are unfortunately no supplemental bonus features, except for a small collection of trailers for films like Echelon Conspiracy and Wrong Turn at Tahoe, the latter being the latest of many straight-to-video flicks starring Cuba Gooding, Jr. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C- (Movie) D (Disc)

Working from a screenplay by writer John Collee, director Jon Amiel delivers a waterlogged look at Charles Darwin with Creation, a muttenchop enthusiast’s delight that’s part historical drama, part hysterical  drama. While the film doesn’t span decades, but instead concentrates on a more tightly prescribed patch of time in Darwin’s life, it still proves true an old maxim regarding cinematic postscripts: the more you feel it necessary to say in pre-end credit crawl text, the less you’ve probably said during the entire rest of your movie’s running time.

Paul Bettany stars as British scientist and author Charles Darwin, a brilliant and deeply emotional man devoted to his religious wife Emma (Jennifer Connelly, Bettany’s wife in real life) and the rest of his family, but also somewhat increasingly removed from them. Part of that distance stems from a burgeoning conflict between his (flickering) faith and the rooted reason of science, which is driving a wedge between he and a longtime family friend, Reverend Innes (Jeremy Northam). Charles and Emma have also lost a child, which has understandably strained their relationship. As his health begins to falter and Thomas Huxley (Infamous‘ Toby Jones), a strident comrade-in-reason, urges him on, Darwin struggles to finish his legendary book On the Origin of Species, which would of course go on to lay the foundation for much of evolutionary biology.

The movie is built around multiple conversations with the deceased Annie (Martha West, above), and then additionally flashes back in time to various stories Darwin relates to her. Collee’s script is based on Annie’s Box, a biography penned by Darwin’s great-great-grandson Randal Keynes using personal letters and diaries of the Darwin family. Perhaps this insider-ish access compromises any sense of independent thinking that would give this project some definition and perspective, it’s hard to definitively say. Regardless, Collee, and by extension Amiel, are so heartily invested in showcasing Darwin’s descent into near-madness, and injecting overwrought emotionalism into their story, that they dip into dream-sequence-within-dream-sequence nonsense, to the detriment of any accrued interest and narrative momentum in Darwin’s scientific research and writing. In so hammering home the guilt Darwin feels over having married and had children with his first cousin, the filmmakers render secondary (perhaps even tertiary, behind interpersonal relationship histrionics) the importance or modern-day relevance of his work.

Consequently, Creation feels slack and inert, its stakes shrunken and collapsed to the point of near-pointlessness. There are certain personal details here (Darwin’s affinity for bracing water therapy, for instance, which provides Amiel with the chance to get a bit arty) that are obviously fascinating to consider as they relate to Darwin’s work. But the film connects the dots in only the most obvious and perfunctory ways. The personal overwhelms any deeper consideration of the professional in Creation; gimmicky, surface-level grieving and hand-wringing gives way to pitched, plaintive and downright grating voiceover narration, and one just knows at some point that Connelly will look beautiful but get all emotional, screaming and crying about how she’s had enough and can’t take it anymore. (She obliges.) By the time the movie posits that the impetus for Darwin’s writer’s block being cured is a simple act of coitus, however, well, one could be forgiven for thinking that Creation bears no evidence of evolution in storytelling nuance.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Creation comes to DVD presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, with a Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio mix, and optional English and Spanish subtitles. Bonus features come by way of a feature-length audio commentary track with director Amiel, a special making-of documentary, and around 10 other separate featurettes which include a wide array of cast, crew and academic-leaning interviews, as well as a tour of Darwin’s home, which has been turned into a museum. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. D+ (Movie) A- (Disc)

A competent, character-driven remake of George Romero‘s original 1973 film of the same name, recently released on Blu-ray by Blue Underground, with an evocative cover, The Crazies is a fairly slickly made mid-level thriller of tickled paranoia, the type of movie one could see lots of Tea Partiers rabidly embracing, as a prophetic vision of the coming governmental jackboot pressed against the neck of average, honorable, small town gun-toting citizens.

When a string of quasi-catatonic rages and other violence rocks a small Midwestern town, the sheriff of Ogden Nash, David Dutton (Timothy Olyphant), finds himself waging an uphill battle to convince the mayor and other powers-that-be that a mysterious toxin has accidentally infected the town’s water supply, and is to blame. Black helicopters (well, vans and other ground vehicles, really) soon arrive, and the secretive government round-up begins. Separated from his pregnant wife Judy (Radha Mitchell), Dutton breaks free from containment, reunites with his deputy, Russell Crank (Joe Anderson, quite good), and then sets out with Judy and teenager Becca (Danielle Panabaker), trying to jointly work their way past checkpoints and dangerous, marauding, infected loonies, out of town.

Rather admirably rooted in the interplay of its principal players, The Crazies is basically an intimately conceived and almost claustrophobic tale with a few big altercations and effects sequences thrown in to goose up the production value and thrill quotient. Some of these work, in a very gut-level kind of way, while others — like a screwy car wash scene — are less successfully conceived, and even more problematically executed. With almost any reflection, some of the movie’s basic plot points don’t really hold up. First, there’s the revelation that an airplane went down in a nearby lake, but only one person apparently noticed/heard it. Then there’s the more basic strategic command decision of an anonymous army swarming into a town, with all forms of outside communication rendered useless; if eradicating an entire town was always part of the possible agenda, why go in “soft” at all, with soldiers who are willfully misinformed about the threat? In regards to the outside threat — and even the potency of the viral communicability, which is never really fully explained — the filmmakers seem to want to leave a lot up to the imagination of viewers, but after a while some of these narrative hiccups and gaps start to come across as lazy.

What makes The Crazies mostly work, however, is its casting; all the main actors emotionally invest in the material, and Anderson in particular gets an interesting arc, moving from sympathetic to antagonistic and back again. This isn’t reinventing the wheel, and the dialogue in particular could use a little extra pop, but The Crazies is aided by the fact that its aims are fairly modest, and director Breck Eisner — Sahara helmer, and son of Disney honcho Michael — for the most part has a smart sense of pacing and involving visual style.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case in turn stored in a cardboard slipcover, The Crazies comes to DVD presented in 2.40:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track, and optional Spanish and English SDH subtitles, which each offer up a few flubs. Its slate of bonus material is most impressive, though, kick-started by a superb audio commentary track from Eisner. In it, he talks about Olyphant getting an enthusiastic pitch for working with him from Steve Zahn (with whom the filmmaker had worked before) on the set of A Perfect Getaway. Eisner also chats about location shooting in both Iowa and Georgia, and some of the challenges, specifically, that a large controlled burn (see picture above) presented. Naturally, there is some spoiler talk, too, so don’t listen to this chat unless/until you’ve already seen the feature first.

Next up is an 11-minute making-of featurette built largely around Eisner, in which he talks about screenwriter Scott Kosar’s first draft focusing much more on the military response within the movie. A 10-minute look at the “politicized horror” of Romero features a couple talking-head web writers, and there’s a visual effects featurette to boot. Two episodes of the short motion comic are included, as well as a featurette which spotlights the contributions of make-up mastermind Rob Hall. There are also a clutch of Easter eggs, accessed with the left
toggle button on the first menu screen of supplemental material, which
showcase the choreographing of several action sequences with stunt folks
standing in for the actors. Three theatrical trailers and 10 TV spots round things out, along with storyboards and a behind-the-scenes photo gallery. Only a bit more by way of chats with the actors could elevate this 90-minute-plus collection of bonus material. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B- (Movie) A- (Disc)

As the American economy has cratered, and helped create one of the most imposing and hostile job environments on record for emerging college graduates and young people in general, there have been all sorts of money management titles pop up on video, designed to give the under-40 set and other Millennials more information about how to navigate the choppy investment waters of a refashioned financial market. Emotionally of a piece with these titles is the PBS/NOVA production Mind Over Money — an entertaining and penetrating exploration of why mainstream economists failed to predict the crash of 2008, why we so often personally make irrational financial decisions, and what one can do to avoid common pitfalls and mistakes others make.

Narrated by Lance Lewman, Mind Over Money reveals how our emotions interfere with decision-making, and explores controversial new arguments about the world of finance. Before the current crash, most Wall Street analysts believed that markets are, to bottom-line it, “efficient” — that investors are reasonable and always operate in their own economic self-interest. Most of the time, these assumptions of classical economics work well enough. But in extreme situations, people panic and conventional theories collapse. In the face of the recent crash, can a new science that aims to incorporate human psychology into finance — behavioral economics — serve as a more accurate predictor of financial markets?

Mind Over Money chronicles some of this new field’s most compelling experiments, assaying the brains and bodies of Wall Street traders as they buy and sell stocks. One particularly ingenious experiment reveals how an excessive number of spending choices can overwhelm a consumer’s ability to make rational decisions. Through these entertaining real-life experiments, this title demonstrates how mood, decision-making and economic activity are all tightly and irrevocably interwoven.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Mind Over Money comes to DVD presented in anamorphic widescreen, with an English language stereo track that more than adequately handles the title’s straightforward aural demands. There are unfortunately no supplemental features… nor a lottery ticket. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or simply click here. If Amazon is totally your thing, meanwhile, click here. B (Movie) D (Disc)

If you’ve ever watched a service animal in amazement from afar, and wondered more about their training, Through a Dog’s Eyes might be a nice watch for you. A heartwarming look into the special bond between people and dogs, this short-form documentary tracks a series of dogs from their initial training through to their work with the disabled people they help every day.

Narrated by Neil Patrick Harris, Through a Dog’s Eyes centers around Jennifer Arnold, founder of Canine Assistants, one of the
country’s leading service dog organizations. Her unique teaching methods
combine the latest canine research with an unwavering kindness and
respect for dogs. Writer Don Campbell and director Peter Schnall have a knack for what makes this story interesting, blending a more removed, just-the-facts explication of Arnold’s work with more overt emotional-appeal snapshots of just how greatly the lives of service dog recipients are changed. The end result provides new insights into one of life’s most curious relationships: the
powerful human/canine bond. Even cat lovers can appreciate this hour-long title.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Through a Dog’s Eyes comes to DVD presented in anamorphic widescreen, with an English language stereo audio track. Supplemental extras consist of a series of step-by-step training pointers from Arnold. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or simply click here. Or if Amazon is totally your thing, click here. B (Movie) C- (Disc)

It’s a sad but seemingly inexorable truth that the nature of the 24-hour cable news network allows for political backbiting to overwhelm almost any reasonable discussion of the most gripping problems facing our nation, but the arguably positive flip-side is that when true disaster strikes, the news media is in a uniquely advantageous position — quite unlike any other time in human history — to broadcast from strife-stricken zones in real-time, in a manner that can crucially impact initial response.

Such was certainly the case with the heartrending images that followed in the wake of the massive earthquake that rocked Haiti on January 12 of this year, leveling Port-au-Prince and crippling that poor nation’s infrastructure. Running an hour long, the PBS Frontline title The Quake, written and produced by Marcela Gaviria and Martin Smith, takes cameras directly into the midst of this devastation, but also goes even further beyond the stories covered in the news over the first weeks and months, revealing faults in the Haitian government and world organizations that simply were not prepared to face such a disaster.

Bearing witness to the disaster and ill-coordinated relief efforts in one of the poorest countries in the Western hemisphere, The Quake focuses on those responsible for handling the catastrophe, including the Haitian state and the United Nations, which were crippled by the magnitude of the disaster and struggled to craft an effective national response. Drawing on exclusive interviews with relief workers and politicians, including Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and Rene Preval, the president of Haiti, The Quake makes a shaming case that portions of the disaster were unavoidable, but that the world can also do better.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, The Quake comes to DVD presented in anamorphic widescreen, with an English language stereo track. Its static menu screen proffers chapter stops, but unfortunately no other supplemental material. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or simply click here; if Amazon’s your thing, meanwhile, click here. B- (Movie) D- (Disc)

Written and directed with a lyrical, unfussy directness by Stephane Gauger, Owl and the Sparrow tells the simple story of a young, runaway orphan whose resolute, openhearted nature helps forge a bond between two adults she drafts into her life as a sort of replacement
family.

For plucky 10-year-old Thuy (Pham Thi Han), life in her small Vietnamese village is mostly confined to working in the bamboo factory of her cantankerous uncle Minh (Hau Nguyen). All of that changes when she packs her bags, smashes her piggy bank and runs away to the bustling metropolis of downtown Saigon. There, Thuy comes to grips with the challenges of daily survival, getting by initially by selling roses on the street. Striking up individual conversations with beautiful flight attendant Lan (Cat Ly) and gentle, lonely animal keeper Hai (Le The Lu), who tends to elephants at the local zoo, Thuy also finds the sort of adult role models for whom she has been yearning. In the hustle and bustle of the big city, these three individuals are all seeking some measure of greater human connection. But in order to avoid getting sent back to her strict uncle, Thuy will need all of her cleverness and determination.

Owl and the Sparrow is a simply told film, without a lot of bells,
whistles, or narrative head feints and gamesmanship. It’s without guile,
really, and sometimes that’s really charming. The Vietnamese-American Gauger, born in Saigon to an American civilian contractor and his Vietnamese wife, seems to have a unique insight into the delicate nature and frailties of fractured adolescence, the success of which can be measured by his movie’s robust reception in various festival arenas, including Los Angeles, where it picked up an audience award last year. The film wouldn’t succeed to half the degree it does, however, with a lesser actress than young newcomer Pham Thi Han, who projects a captivating innocence. Composer Peter Nguyen’s musical contributions are gorgeous and evocative as well — further evidence of Gauger’s skill at plucking heartstrings without tipping over into maudlin cliché.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, The Owl and the Sparrow comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, with a Vietnamese language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track, and optional subtitles in English and Spanish. Its chief supplemental features consist of a feature-length audio commentary track with director Gauger and a seven-minute behind-the-scenes featurette which includes brief interview snippets with cast and crew, as well as some audition tape footage. There are also two deleted scenes, a self-scrolling two-minute collection of production still photographs, cast and crew pictures, and the movie’s trailer. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B- (Movie) B- (Disc)

What’s the most important lesson of Thirst, a stranded-in-the-desert ensemble flick starring Lacey Chabert, among others? Make sure you’re with at least one busty chick, since her breast implants, in a real pinch, may eventually allow you to give yourself a saline drip that will mitigate hallucinatory dehydration.

Somewhat unironically dubbed “Open Water in the desert” by Horrorsquad.com’s Peter Hall on its cover box, Thirst centers on vacationing med student Noelle (Chabert) and her husband Bryan (Tygh Runyan), who accompany another
couple, photographer Tyson (Brandon Quinn) and his new model-girlfriend Atheria (Mercedes McNab), on a day trip into the hot, desolate California desert for what they think will be a nice, uncomplicated photo shoot. Whoops. When Tyson accidentally puts their car into a ravine, the group is left stranded, and ill prepared to easily extricate themselves from the situation.

Following the car crash, Atheria is concussed and bleeding internally, which soon leads to some gnarly shenanigans with a screwdriver, in an effort to release pent-up pressure and swelling in her brain. The chief problem, though, is of course the group’s dwindling supply of water. With no shelter, no food and no cell phone reception, they make a directional miscalculation, and suffer its consequences. Lost and increasingly hopeless, one by one the group begins to fall victim to the relentless elements, unable to stave off the effects of dehydration with rattlesnake blood or their own urine. (Yeah, seriously.)

Thirst doesn’t reinvent the wheel, certainly, but neither does it terribly embarrass itself. The basic plot machinations are all more or less expected, but director Jeffery Scott Lando redeems himself a bit with a few long-form scenes which invest heartily in Bryan and Noelle’s relationship, and make this genre entry more female-friendly than a lot of other films of its ilk. The script, too, doesn’t put its foot down too heavily on the intra-group bickering; there’s recrimination, but it’s fairly well modulated. That said, the folks here do seem to compound their situation by continuing to make terrible decisions, like traveling during the day and resting during the cool of the evening, hypothesizing that it’s “not safe to travel in the dark.” It’s thinking like that which makes it hard for one to root for you, kids.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Thirst comes to DVD divided into a dozen chapters, presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, with English language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound and 2.0 stereo audio tracks. The picture transfer is mostly solid, and free from edge enhancement or any artifacting; colors seem inconsistent, however. (This may be reflective of creative choices; it’s not entirely clear.) There are also optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles, but there are unfortunately no other supplemental extras, save a preview trailer for the movie and a quartet of other First Look titles, including the iguana-riffic Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans. Given that Chabert also pulled a producer credit on the film, it’s a bit curious she didn’t submit to/push for at the very least some EPK-style on-set interview chats. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C+ (Movie) D+ (Disc)

Someone had the bright idea to basically make a Jason Bourne movie with “Stone Cold” Steve Austin. And when I say bright idea, I of course mean terrible idea. It’s not entirely Austin’s fault, per se. He’s taking a check, and trying to branch out a bit from the comfort zone of his more natural skill sets (i.e., cracking heads). But this desultory, slapdash, poorly directed straight-to-video flick about an amnesiac, double-crossed killing machine takes ideas and scenes we’ve seen dozens of times before, and then executes them lazily and poorly.

Austin (above) plays a hulking guy with no name and no memory (and thus nothing left to
lose, Bob Dylan might opine). When he finds himself being hunted by the Russian mob, however, this amnesiac decides to fight back. Working with FBI agent Mason Reese (Adam Beach), Dr. Grace Bishop (Erica Cerra) is also trying to track down Austin’s character; she’s treated him, and is convinced his faulty sense of self-identity, in which he randomly “reboots” every couple weeks or months, can be cured. Enduring beatings, bullets and betrayal, Austin’s stranger slowly starts to remember bits and pieces of
the horror that took away his career, his family and his life. Naturally, more fisticuffs ensue, against a backdrop of governmental let-down and duplicity.

Working from a script by Quinn Scott, director Robert Lieberman delivers messy, uninvolving action, indiscriminately mixing slow-motion and regular-speed mayhem, and cross-cutting in a manner that mars whatever intent stunt coordinator Lauro Chartrand might have had. Austin, meanwhile, is required to do stupid things (like show up at Dr. Bishop’s hotel room… after she drops off her business card at a bar he frequents?), and do some ruminative emoting, which doesn’t come all that naturally to him. If there’s at all a silver lining to this yawning mess, it’s that The Stranger is at least rated R, so it doesn’t pull punches on its bloody beat-downs. Even hardcore action fans will be hard-pressed to care about this Stranger‘s identity, however.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case stored in turn in a cardboard slipcover with lenticular imaging (that’s fancy talk for 3-D, folks), The Stranger comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, with a Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track and optional Spanish and English SDH subtitles. Apart from a trailer, its only supplemental feature is a six-minute behind-the-scenes featurette, in which Austin talks about the time constraints of the production and also (pretty intelligently, actually) about the difference in fighting for camera versus fighting in the ring, and how the former is “less of a dance.” To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. D (Movie) C- (Disc)

Excepting its slightly freaky cover art, The Human Spark, hosted by Alan Alda, proves a warm and engaging scientific exploration for the layperson — an inquisitive nonfiction title that takes viewers on a spectacular and
sometimes personal journey.

Actor, author and science enthusiast Alda explores our uniquely human brains in this three-part PBS series, which delves into a wealth of a scientific
disciplines — including archaeology, primatology, neuroscience,
behavioral psychology and even philosophy. After billions of years of life’s evolution on this planet, and long after
recognizable humans first walked its surface, a new human species burst upon the
scene, apparently unannounced. It was us. Until then our ancestors had
shared the planet with other humanoids. Soon, however, there was only us,
with unprecedented power and dominion over all other animals and our
environment. That mysterious something was and is the “human spark” at
the center of this title.

Visiting with dozens of scientists all over the world and participating directly in many of their experiments (including a comprehensive examination of his own brain to see where
his “most human” abilities reside), Alda serves as a genial stand-in guide for viewers. By studying the fossilized bones and tools of our ancestors and
examining our nearest living relatives, Alda helps viewers understand
what we have in common with and what sets us apart from our ancestors. Aspirant scientists and armchair anthropologists alike will spark to this title, with its smart mix of breadth and depth, of both the cerebral and social.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, The Human Spark comes to DVD presented in anamorphic widescreen, with an English language stereo audio track. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or simply click here. Or if Amazon is totally your thing, click here, then. B+ (Movie) C- (Disc)

I have a thing against movies whose posters feature characters nibbling their fingers, which immediately and unfortunately puts Kristen Bell‘s When in Rome in my crosshairs. It’s not empty, irrational hatred, however. A small stable of recognizable faces in supporting roles cannot save this utterly vapid romantic comedy fable pitched at some fantasy demographic of young professional women who value love seemingly only as a commodity, another box to check off on a very long and modern to-do list. That the film’s plot is malarkey through and through is perhaps expected, but that it is delivered in such thunderously obvious strokes pushes it from merely bad to nearly intolerable in certain stretches.

Beth (Bell, above) is an ambitious, cautious-in-love junior curator at the Guggenheim Museum. On a trip to Rome for her impulsive younger sister’s wedding, she meets best man Nick (Josh Duhamel). The two share a dance and a spark, but Beth gets it in her head that he has a girlfriend. Consoling herself with a bottle of champagne, she fitfully grabs a handful of coins from a local fountain, magically igniting the passion of those who threw them in. Pursued back to New York by a widowed sausage magnate (Danny DeVito), a street magician (Jon Heder), a would-be painter (Will Arnett) and a self-admiring model (Dax Shepard), Beth must sort out whether Nick’s continued advances are real, or part of the same band of zany suitors.

Falling in love abroad seem to be particularly en vogue, if a recent spate of Hollywood romantic comedies are to be believed (see My Life in Ruins and Leap Year). Saddled with clunky expository dialogue and baffling character motivations, however, When in Rome has only two settings: broad, and broader. The film’s one potentially amusing bit — in which Nick takes Beth to a pitch-black restaurant, in which the lack of sight is supposed to be part of the dining experience, heightening other senses — is botched and rushed. Even within the movie’s wearying fantastical conceit there is no interior logic. Lazily and inexplicably, when it comes time for Beth to dismiss the suitors, they magically show up as a group at her apartment — apparently knowing of one another, and having little or no competitive impulse.

Easy-on-the-eyes leads Bell and Duhamel mostly escape judgment on the strength of their smiles. Through sheer force of will several bit players, most notably Shepard, breathe life into their scenes of assertive come-on. A litany of strange cameos, along with a fervently pitched dance-along by the entire cast over the end credits, all seems desperately designed to create the impression that someone is having fun. It’s certainly not the audience, however.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, When in Rome comes to DVD on a dual-layer disc in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track. Optional Spanish and French tracks are included, as well as subtitles in all three languages. The disc’s bonus features consist of a pair of music videos — “Starstrukk,” from 3OH!3, featuring Katy Perry, and “Stupid Love Letter,” from Friday Night Boys — as well as three minutes of bloopers which should serve as a professional suicide reel for the movie’s propmasters. Three-plus minutes of deleted scenes round things out. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. D (Movie) C- (Disc)

You hear a lot of rap stars talk about their musical aspirations, particularly as slotted in competition against other artists, as being part of “the game.” (Hell, one rapper even named himself after it.) Director Gabriel Noble’s festival-minted documentary P-Star Rising illuminates that concept — of music as less specifically and solely the outlet for artistic expression, and more an occupational lifeline that happens to take place in a cutthroat, often manifestly unfair environment.

Spanning four years, the movie examines the intriguing and unusual tale of single dad Jesse Diaz and his nine-year-old girl, Priscilla, an aspirant rapper. She’s not some out-of-left-field prodigy, however; in the early 1980s, Diaz was a rising hip-hop star, and so he’s impressed upon his daughter a participatory love for the musical genre. Noble’s film follows this father-daughter duo through various ups and downs both in the music industry and out — late nights in the studio, performances around the world, music label
negotiations, home schooling, and financial shakiness — as Priscilla attempts to land a record deal and become a superstar.

P-Star Rising is engaging in large part because of the gulf in self-awareness between its adult and adolescent characters (Priscilla talks with disarming, what-are-you-gonna-do? frankness about her absentee crackhead mother), and how those eventually cross, or meet up. Diaz is one those curly-haired guys who wear lots of sports hats and jerseys, and ridiculous jewelry on thick gold chains (Jeffrey Wells might call him a Hispanic party elephant), and he doesn’t really seem to have an appreciable grasp on the damage it can do to a kid to try to make them your primary breadwinner (see: Lindsay Lohan). Five years older than Priscilla, daughter Solsky is an intermediate voice of reason and support.

Diaz and his daughters go through a lot, from living in a shelter to getting their own little place and grappling with the difficulty of paying bills. While she has some talent, it’s interesting to see how Priscilla negotiates the mountain pass between wanting to both please and help provide for her father and, eventually, figure out (at least a little bit) if this is something in which she’s sincerely interested in of her own accord. Whatever one makes of her dreams, and whether or not air quotes should be applied there, young Priscilla, who has found a home on PBS’ The Electric Company while she continues working her music career, at least engagingly makes the point that it’s neither all nature or all nurture when it comes to charting one’s future.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, P-Star Rising comes to DVD presented in a 1.78:1 aspect ratio, with an English language stereo audio track. Bonus features consist of a music video (titled “Daddy’s Lil’ Girl,” don’tcha know), in addition to another 15 minutes of excised scenes, comprised almost wholly of early studio footage of young Priscilla. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or click here; if Amazon is totally and irretrievably your thing, meanwhile, click here. C+ (Movie) B- (Disc)

The genetic mysteries of weight gain get put under the microscope in this hour-long PBS documentary from director Richard Rifkind, which tracks a trio of PhD students as they attempt to decipher the elusive protein that controls human appetite.

Smart, focused and affecting, Naturally Obsessed: The Making of a Scientist works so well because it tells a vivid, suspenseful story in the most elemental terms. Centered around three biology graduate students working under Columbia University Medical Center’s Dr. Lawrence Shapiro, the movie charts their parallel quest for scientific success and stardom in addition to academic achievement. Competing in a worldwide race to be the first to publish their findings, the students are out to discover the molecular switch that controls appetite in the human body. Their road to success combines years of trial and error with unflinching dedication, rock-climbing, rumors of pickle juice and, yes, even the music of the Flaming Lips.

Scientist-turned-filmmaker Rifkind does a couple smart things with his movie, tapping into the rich thrill of discovery that drives scientific inquiry, and making it seem cool and palpable in a way that a lot of science-related films (and science teachers, sadly) simply do not. He also gives viewers a sense of investment and rooting interest in the students’ quest, attaching it to a broader social relevance. You might not totally want to go back to high school and pay more attention in biology class, but you’ll certainly have a deeper appreciation of those that did.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Naturally Obsessed comes to DVD presented in widescreen, with an English language stereo audio track. Unlike a lot of educationally inflected NOVA and PBS titles, this disc has a small clutch of nice supplemental features, throwing a spotlight on basic research and drug design and the educational pipeline that will provide our future generations of scientists. There’s also a discussion guide PDF for teachers, with advice on how to get their own students involved in research activities. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS or simply click here; or, if Amazon is totally your thing, click here. B+ (Movie) B (Disc)

I don’t recall learning about the My Lai massacre in school. At least not in high school, during our study of the Vietnam War. It’s not terribly surprising, though. The American education system by and large doesn’t teach our nastiness or failings, our exceptions or hypocrisies. It teaches the grace notes and snow-capped peaks, and more or less lets students find the rest on their own, allowing the conservative punditry class to then take aim at the notion of broader truths by labeling them “liberal.”

For PBS’ American Experience series, writer-director Barak Goodman returns to the Vietnam War and the small village of My Lai, where in 1968 the blood of nearly 500 civilians was spilled by the hands of American soldiers. In My Lai, the infamous massacre is revisited in heart-crushingly direct fashion, and the result is a supremely relevant and indispensable historical document that showcases how morality can come unglued in combat.

Featuring new footage, uncovered documentation and compelling and exclusive interviews from both American soldiers who were on the ground during the event and innocent Vietnamese who watched their entire families get brutally slaughtered, My Lai takes viewers into the trenches of the Vietnam War, asking tough questions that America depressingly seems to revisit on an almost generational basis. In this case, the chief questions is what drove a company of soldiers — ordinary young men from all across the country — to commit the worst atrocity in American military history? Were they “just following orders,” as some later declared? Or did they crumble under the pressure of a vicious war in which the line between enemy soldier and civilian had been intentionally blurred?

Goodman lays out the facts of the event in straightforward, unbiased fashion, letting interviewees like photographer Ronald Harberle, squad leaders John Smail and Kenneth Hodges and team leader Thomas Turner tell their stories. Some, like Hodges, seem relatively unaffected by event, while others are obviously haunted. Regardless, what isn’t under dispute is the event’s subsequent cover-up (the company responsible for the terrible raid gone wrong was ordered not to speak to any press, and then sent directly into the jungle for 54 days), and the heroic efforts of a small group of courageous soldiers who broke ranks to first try to halt the atrocities — the heroic efforts of American helicopter pilot Hugh Thompson, who intervened and saved at least a dozen Vietnamese women and children from advancing U.S. soldiers, are something to ponder —  and then bring them to light. A warning note to potentially squeamish viewers: some of the images in My Lai are graphic, but the descriptions are even more heartrendingly violent.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, My Lai comes to DVD in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language 5.1 Dolby digital surround sound audio track. It has a static menu screen, and is divided into 10 chapter stops, but has no additional supplemental features beyond a clickable link that displays some information about the PBS web site. It’s a shame, because some sort of further talking head contextualization of the various parallels between this terrible incident and other American military cover-ups (just wait until Amir Bar-Lev’s The Tillman Story hits theaters this fall) would have been a knockout blow. As is, though, this powerful documentary definitely leaves an emotional mark. To order a copy of My Lai or other PBS titles, phone (800)PLAY-PBS, or click here. Alternately, to purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. A- (Movie) C- (Disc)

While the regular DVD market is facing dwindling sales, boutique distributors are delving into the treasure trove of heretofore marginalized titles — particularly in the foreign and genre markets, and from the 1960s and ’70s — that often never received a proper commercial release on VHS, let alone their due in theaters. Two such debuts arrive on one disc in the form of Mondo Macabro’s DVD release of The Sadist with Red Teeth and Forbidden Paris, from Belgian filmmaker Jean Louis van Belle.

Starring Daniel Moosmann and Jane Clayton, 1970’s micro-budgeted horror flick The Sadist with Red Teeth represents an across-the-pond precursor to the sort of cheap, slapdash, from-the-hip genre fare that Roger Corman would later have such success with in the United States — except with more of an infusion of grandiloquent delusion. In the movie, comic book artist Daniel Bernard (Moosmann) becomes convinced that a near-fatal car crash (in which a friend perished) has turned him into a vampire, but it’s not before the advice of his creepy doctor (Albert Simono) comes into question.

Forbidden Paris, meanwhile, is a mondo-style shockumentary concentrating on the seedy underbelly of 1960s’ Paris — a sort of black-and-blue valentine to the city of lights that serves as spiteful, nasty counterpoint to some of the love letters of the New Wave. There are a few arresting moments of anthropological/sociological interest here — a family preparing for the fallout from an H-bomb, a freaky free love community — but the film’s narration comes across as piecemeal and haphazard.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, the double-feature from Mondo Macabro comes to DVD with a pair of brand new anamorphic transfers from the respective original film negatives. There is also a very good half-hour documentary featurette on ven Belle which interestingly delves into his editorial experience and philosophy on filmmaking, though it’s shot and pieced together in a willfully cryptic style that eventually begins to grate. There are also introductions to the movies themselves by van Belle, and previews for other Mondo Macabro titles. To purchase via Amazon, click here. C- (Movies) B+ (Disc)