By turns wry, sly, irreverent and provocative, Defamation asks the question, “What is anti-Semitism today?” Intent on shaking up the ultimate “sacred cow” for modern-day Jews, Israeli-born director Yoav Shamir embarks on an engaging, thought-provoking documentary quest to ascertain whether anti-Semitism remains a clear and immediate, ever-present threat, or is instead more of a scare tactic used by right-wing Zionists to smear their critics.

Spanning several continents, and speaking with an array of individuals from across the political spectrum (including the national director of the Anti-Defamation
League, Abe Foxman, as well as its fiercest critic, professor and author Norman Finkelstein), Shamir bravely, gamely digs into the realities of anti-Semitism today, with curiosity much more of his guide than any predetermined ideological road map. His findings are both enlightening and sometimes shocking. Whether assaying the exhaustive statistical cataloguing of anti-Semitic “acts” that is then in turn used in fund-raising and, by extension, political arm-twisting, or traveling to places like Auschwitz alongside Israeli school kids,
and simply observing the psychological and social effects of how they’re being raised and taught that Jews are hated by almost all other cultures and ethnicities, Shamir eschews simple, pat answers.

While the sense of humor that informs the picture is a welcome,
leavening presence, Shamir’s biggest gift is his flexibility, and
complete lack of assumptions; with Defamation, he creates the
cinematic equivalent of one of those newfangled exercise machines that
targets only the muscles you didn’t really know you had, and certainly
don’t spend any time working out. The film racked up an impressive slate of festival awards — the Stanley Kubrick Award for Bold and Innovative Filmmaking at Michael Moore’s Traverse City Film Festival, the prestigious Grierson Award for Best Documentary at the BFI London Film Festival and the Audience Award for Best Documentary at the Warsaw Film Festival, among others — and rightly so, for its that sort of arena that is its most natural home.

Audiences expecting the more definitive moral or statistical “outcome” of a filmic lecture will come away disappointed, but those who ponder and more deeply weigh Palestinian suffering alongside an Israeli right to existence and defend itself will likely be smitten with Defamation, because it posits at least the existence of ulterior motives or unintended consequences in the levying of charges of anti-Semitism. One teacher holds forth sourly on the “industry of death and violation” that the ADL encourages, and how its too-frequent cries of victimhood devalue real discrimination and hatred. The ADL’s Foxman seems to tacitly acknowledge this when he ruminates, “How do you fight this sinister, conspiratorial view of Jews without using it?” That is to say, the power of the ADL and broader Jewish-American lobby, exists in part because they are able to pull the levers of power by playing on deeply held beliefs that Jews “control” the media, financial markets and government(s). Slippery slope, that. Without malice, however, Shamir digs into the equally intriguing notion that the ADL is a way for many Jews to exercise Jewish identity without religious practice.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Defamation comes to DVD presented in anamorphic widescreen, with an English language stereo track that for the most part more than adequately handles the title’s relatively meager aural demands, except for when a couple of interviewees dip into a secretive whisper, since they’re at a fund-raising event, and don’t want to be overheard. Default English subtitles are also included, since a bit of the movie, understandably, dips into Hebrew. The only DVD bonus features consist of a textual filmmaker statement and biography. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B+ (Movie) C- (Disc)

His partner in beloved Mr. Show mayhem, Bob Odenkirk, has gone on to steal scenes in Breaking Bad, but David Cross hasn’t exactly disappeared into anonymity. He played identity-confused Tobias Funke on the wildly funny Arrested Development, while plenty of the adolescent set will recognize him as the smarmy record executive from the two hugely successful Alvin and the Chipmunks movies. Stand-up comedy is still in his heart and blood, however, which explains Bigger and Blackerer, his third comedy concert album and second DVD on Sub Pop Records.

Its title a riff on Chris Rock‘s Emmy-winning 1999 comedy concert special Bigger & Blacker, Cross’ DVD arrives with a crushed-velvet-Elvis-style cover that would make any kitsch collector beam with pride. Recorded over two separate, back-to-back sets on the same night at Boston’s Wilbur Theatre, and directed by Lance Bangs, the show opens with a kiddie emcee, “Lil’ Davey Cross,” doing a brief foul-mouthed bit, before Cross himself arrives to much fanfare.

It’s a bit surprising, given his veteran status, how much nervousness Cross still conveys on stage, but he incorporates some of that into his set here with a meta routine, in which he twice gets into it with audience members — one of whom is signing in ASL but misrepresenting his material, and the other of whom (the same guy, actually) is live-blogging the show and slagging Cross. These bits are amusing, but do drag on a bit. Cross is at his best when he’s just in warped observant storyteller mode, riffing on the supernatural powers of balance of heroin junkies and other things that get his goat, so to speak. He gets five or six minutes of pure gold out of a British “date rape awareness” postcard he stumbled across while visiting the United Kingdom.

A lot of Cross’ material is also politically-inflected. He cops to following the health care debate with great interest, since he’s “a fan of misspelled, grammatically incorrect hyperbole.” He also uses the Bible and Armageddon as windows into a scabrous examination of fundamentalism and the American religious right
(which, not surprisingly, he has issues with). And, amusingly, Bigger and Blackerer also provides insight into why Orthodox Jews are the true victims of global warming.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, David Cross: Bigger and Blackerer comes to DVD presented in a fold-out cardboard case with a clear plastic snap-in tray. A nice fold-out poster of the DVD and album cover (above) is tucked away in the sleeve, and bonus features include a small slice of excised material, much of it as funny if not even more so than the rest of the concert. In these deleted scenes, Cross assays Coors Light drinkers (and their need for cans that affirm their beer’s coldness), yogurt, and the inanity of certain Sky Mall products, like a “time mug.” There’s also seven minutes’ worth of material from a 2004 Seattle performance, in which Cross expresses outrage at the notion of electric scissors. Anyone familiar with Mr. Show‘s “Coupon: The Movie” sketch will smile in tangential reminiscence. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B+ (Movie) B (Disc)

Neil deGrasse Tyson, as habitual viewers of The Daily Show and/or The Colbert Report know from his many appearances on those respective programs, is entertaining as all get-out, an engaging, chatty fellow who makes science cool. And ever since Pluto was downgraded from planet status, he’s been at the center of a swirling, out-of-this-world controversy.

Profiling this scientific contretemps in compressed but not slapdash fashion, the hour-long The Pluto Files, based on deGrasse Tyson’s book of the same name, details the efforts of its crusading astronomer, who is at the head of the team behind the recent uproar over Pluto’s status. Since its discovery in 1930, Pluto has held a warm place in the public imagination. So, when the American Museum of Natural History’s Hayden Planetarium stopped calling Pluto a planet, director deGrasse Tyson found himself at the center of a firestorm — a firestorm led by angry, Pluto-loving elementary school students.

So what is it about this cold, distant rock that captures so many hearts? Oscar-nominated writer-director Terri Randall keeps this NOVA production smooth and streamlined, and
wisely gives the personable deGrasse Tyson plenty of room to operate. Her subject doesn’t disappoint, as he details the amazing story of Pluto’s initial discovery as well as the captivating science that surrounds this former planet, including the possibility of finding more Pluto-like objects in the mysterious Kuiper belt — an area of icy rocks at the edge of the solar system. From the scientists trying to classify Pluto to die-hard “Pluto-philes,” deGrasse Tyson takes viewers along on a fascinating journey through an engaging cast of characters with just one thing in common: strong opinions about Pluto.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, The Pluto Files comes to DVD presented in widescreen, with an English stereo audio track that more than adequately handles the meager aural demands of this title. Supplemental extras include a clutch of featurettes examining the formation of the universe, a smattering of outtakes, and an audio commentary track with the always entertaining deGrasse Tyson. To order a copy of The Pluto Files, Extreme Cave Diving or other PBS
titles, phone (800) PLAY-PBS or click here; or, if Amazon is totally your thing, click here. B (Movie) B+ (Disc)

Knuckle-duster cinema is a healthy straight-to-video sub-genre, for sure, but it’s usually rooted in stories of guys making their way up in the world, and not necessarily cross-pollinated with the DNA of mama bear protectionism. Trading in feminine-fringe fisticuffs in passably similar fashion to last year’s Fight Night, though, Bare Knuckles peddles an inspired-by-a-true-story tale of a cocktail waitress and single mom who steels her nerves to do “whatever it takes to provide for her daughter,” a cinematic sales phrase that usually involves the baring of much more skin than in this PG-13 flick.

For boxers and cagers, sometimes the lines blur between professionally sanctioned bouts and vicious backyard brawls tied to illegal gambling. When waitress Samantha Rogers (Jeanette Roxborough), trapped in a job she hates but willing to stay for the daughter she loves (Teya Roxborough), ends a bar fight between two drunk women, she catches the eye of a down-and-out fight promoter, Sonny Cool (Martin Kove). Sensing a lucrative partnership, he introduces her to “the show” — a highly lucrative, extremely dangerous and of course completely illegal underground world of high-stakes, all-female, bare-knuckle fighting. Blood-letting and deception ensue, against enough of an estrogenized backdrop of parental courage and love to hold the attention of at least a portion of the typical Lifetime set.

The chief appeal of Bare Knuckles centers around showing, in
puffed-chest fashion, how far a woman will go to provide for the ones
she loves — even in arenas maybe not conducive to her most immediate strengths. So while the world of mixed martial arts is increasingly popular and mainstream, hardcore fans of such head-clubbing mayhem may find their patience tested by all the feelings on display. Still, Roxborough’s performance is steely and committed (she picked up a Best
Actress prize at at the Downbeach Film Festival), even if she’s frequently not given the best dialogue with which to work. It helps, too, that the movie features a real-life female brawler like Bridget “Baby Doll” Riley,
a Black Belt Hall of Famer and the owner of five World Kickboxing titles and one
World Boxing title; she helps give Bare Knuckles a musky scent of authenticity. This isn’t the reinvention of the wheel, it’s true, but a rental won’t bruise your wallet if you’re so inclined.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Bare Knuckles comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 widescreen, enhanced for 16×9 televisions, with a Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track and optional Spanish and English SDH subtitles. Its bonus features consist of a music video for the song “American Girl,” performed by Mylin, and a fairly cursory behind-the-scenes featurette. To purchase the disc via Amazon, click here. C+ (Movie) C- (Disc)

Advances in science, technology and medicine have taught us that keeping fit and maintaining a nutritious diet can prevent diseases and promote a longer life, but did you know there are actually ways to train the brain so that you’re conditioned to live healthier? Along with The New Science of Learning: Brain Fitness for Kids, hour-long PBS documentary Brain Fitness Frontiers delve into this very subject, instructing audiences about the brain’s “plasticity,” and the huge benefits cognitive training can have on everyday life.

Hosted and narrated by Peter Coyote, Brain Fitness Frontiers is built around interviews with luminaries of science and medicine, including Dr. Michael Merzenich, Dr. John Donoghue and Dr. Skip Rizzo. Deftly utilizing these experts of their field, director Eli Brown challenges many misconceptions about brain development, and offers forth examples of how ordinary people are using their brain’s variability, and the power of neuroplasticity, to create lasting and astonishing changes. Neuroscience research and cognitive training alike are explained in layman’s terms, making for an engaging viewing experience.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Brain Fitness Frontiers comes to DVD presented in 1.76:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language stereo track. In addition to a link to PBS’ web site, a small clutch of additional interview footage is offered forth as a supplemental bonus. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or simply click here. Or if Amazon is totally your thing, meanwhile, click here. B (Movie) C+ (Disc)

One doesn’t fire up a DVD entitled The End of Poverty? thinking there are finger-snapping good times on the horizon for the next 90 minutes or so, especially since the red question mark at the end of the film’s title (contrasted with its black text) looms rather ominously. Yet the clear-eyed, straightforward manner in which this affecting documentary — which premiered at Critics’ Week at Cannes last year, and subsequently played at more than 30 international festivals — plumbs its subject matter serves as a powerful natural depressive for anyone with a heart and an ounce of curiosity about the state of the world at large.

Narrated by Martin Sheen, director Philippe Diaz’s film reframes the debate over extreme poverty, laying out the case that while human struggles over resources and land are a fairly natural thing, there in fact exists enough of everything (space, food and resources) for a far more equitable system of national governance and international relations. With a variety of interviews that extend beyond the parameters of just the usual talking heads of academia, Diaz provides a superb thumbnail sketch of the history of colonialism,
and its lingering effects, generations on. Assaying unfair debt, trade and tax policies, the movie imparts important details without becoming overly wonkish.

Part of this owes to the fact that Diaz smartly mixes in case study-type interviews with often surprisingly eloquent laborers who are basically indentured servants. It’s heartbreaking, listening to the Brazilian sugar cane cutter who for 17 years has toiled for the equivalent of under $40 a month, rising at 1 a.m. for breakfast and funding repairs of his own work equipment. Some of the movie’s proposed macro-solutions to poverty are more open to debate, so the film undeniably works best an ire-provoking indictment of conspicuous consumption, particularly amongst certain industrialized nations. With only five percent of the world’s population, the United States still consumes a quarter of its natural resources, and produces around 30 percent of its pollution; overall, less than a fifth of the Earth’s population uses more than 80 percent of its resources. There’s a moral component to this struggle, certainly, but as Diaz also justly, implicitly notes, this sort of path isn’t eternally sustainable — it’s a breeding ground for discontent, radicalism and revolution, and all the further instability that eventually brings.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case with a snap-release tray, The End of Poverty? comes to DVD on a region-free disc in what’s billed as a “special educational edition,” replete with extra DVD-ROM content and a handful of other disc-situated bonus features. Befitting its area of inquiry, English, Spanish, French, Portuguese and Swahili subtitles are also included. There’s a downloadable study guide at the film’s web site, but on the DVD there’s 32 minutes of additional interview material with author Susan George, professor Chalmers Johnson, University of Nairobi constitutional law professor Okoth Ogendo and Gitu wa Kahengeri, leader of Kenya’s Mau Mau uprising. There are also trailers for a quartet of other Cinema Libre home video titles. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. A- (Movie) B- (Disc)

The titular ditty’s crunchy guitar riff, which was recently (and rightly) lauded in one of those VH-1 song-list countdown specials, is an enjoyably filthy thing, all forward-leaning adolescent momentum and pelvic energy. So it’s no surprise, really, that You Really Got Me: The Story of the Kinks gives good attitude while also maintaining a pinch of mystery, interspersing an array of superb color and black-and-white concert footage, from the 1960s right on through to the ’90s, with some nice biographical nuggets.

Of all the British bands that broke through commercially in America who
were part of the so-called “British Invasion” of the ’60s, the Kinks may have been the most quintessentially English. Led by Ray Davies and his younger brother Dave Davies,
the group burst onto the music scene in 1964 with their groundbreaking
hit single “You Really Got Me,” which topped the U.K. singles chart and made the American top 10 to boot, spawning an entire generation of power-chord riffs (American musicologist wrote that the song “invented heavy metal”). That tune gets a loving treatment here, of course, but some of the other performances
in the international collection of footage are equally notable, including “All Day and All of the Night,” “‘Til the End of the Day,” “Waterloo Sunset,” “Days” and “Celluloid Heroes.”

A lot of reach-back, artist-specific concert docs like this have the advantage of a handful of performances that have been rarely seen since their first rotation, if at all, outside some regional broadcast and promotion. But if there’s not any artist participation, and the talking heads aren’t lively and informed, they too often can sputter and fail to capture what’s intriguing about Band X or Artist Y. Thankfully, You Really Got Me: The Story of the Kinks also contains comments from various members of the band, including both the Davies brothers and drummer Mick Avory. The gentlemen talk about their roots as a rhythm-and-blues band, and their maturation as musicians. The band continued touring until mid-1996, and despite Dave Davies suffering a stroke in 2004, certain rumors of a reunion persist out there in various corners of the Internet. If it never happens, this title at least showcases the Kinks’ worthy legacy.

Housed in a regular clear plastic Amaray case, You Really Got Me: The Story of the Kinks comes to DVD on a region-free disc presented in a 4:3 aspect ratio, with an English language Dolby digital 2.0 stereo audio track. Its supplemental features consist of… well, nothing really. But the nice slate of captured musical material makes this disc alternately thrash and kick, and sing and soar, and that’s good enough for properly aged or curious rock ‘n’ roll fans. To purchase the DVD, click here; or if you’re all about Amazon, click here. B- (Movie) C- (Disc)

A documentary investigation into surging American religious fundamentalism, and in particular its fetishistic preoccupation with end-time prophecy and the Bible’s Book of Revelation, Waiting For Armageddon is a fascinating look at the intractability of a certain subset of religious thinking, and how seemingly at odds it is with the very idea of modernity while simultaneously peddling a curious, blinkered sort of global engagement. Notably, this First Run Features title doesn’t arrive at its provocation cheaply, but instead through substantive examination of serious questions.

Co-directed by Kate Davis, Franco Sacchi and David Heilbroner, Waiting for Armageddon focuses largely on Israel’s unique status as the blasting cap of religious conflict in the Middle East, and explores the condescending, head-patting triumphalism of much of America’s 50-million strong Evangelical
community when it comes to the Jewish state. In their narrative, support for Israel is but a simple, necessary card to flip on the yellow brick road toward the Rapture; Muslims get evicted from the Holy Land by the Jews, who then rebuild the Temple of Solomon to jibe with Biblical prophecy, so that Christ can then return and trump all others. (As the chosen people, of course, Jews get “last-call dibs” on recognizing the error of their ways, and accepting Jesus as the son of God.)

Interviewees here include investigative journalist Chip Berlet, who
specializes in the study of right-wing movements and other extremism within the
United States, but the film is thorough and fair-minded — there’s no voiceover narration, so a wide range of subjects get to directly voice their beliefs and opinions, allowing viewers to decide for themselves. The picture that emerges — not surprising to those who actually grew up in or around pockets of such fundamentalism, but perhaps a revelation to some of the so-called media elite — is that many if not most religious fundamentalists are not super-ignorant, actually, but rather overwhelmed by the pressures, despair, poverty and manifold injustices of modern life.

There’s the fascinating and of course rather depressing spectacle of bearing witness to a mother who raises her children telling them they most likely won’t live to graduate college or get their driver’s license; in this sort of environment, where’s the personal incentive to learn or grow rather than just blindly embrace prepackaged dogma? (It doesn’t exist, of course.) There’s also a bit of an unseemly voyeuristic thrill in some of these “Rapture junkies,” in the feeling that they on a certain level want to see and/or bask in the suffering of others, perhaps if only a means by which to elevate themselves. Regardless of these unpleasantries, and the particulars of some of the more radical viewpoints espoused, one can certainly empathize with each interviewee’s own quest for centeredness and order, whether fully articulated or not. That yearning is a very human one, in my book.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Waiting For Armageddon comes to DVD presented in anamorphic widescreen, with an English language stereo audio track. Supplemental bonus features include an interfaith roundtable discussion, as well as a scrollable text statement from the filmmakers. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B+ (Movie) C (Disc)

Kevin Costner exudes trace elements of that same rumpled, weary Costner-ian charm that’s made him a very rich man in The New Daughter, a moody, middling and partially supernatural drama that suffers from a subject-mismatched title and terrible DVD cover art.

In similar fashion to movies like The Uninvited and Brittany Murphy‘s Deadline, The New Daughter is one of those flicks where a wounded protagonist/family (preferably including a writer) repairs to remote rural home, in an attempt to shake off recent malaise or trauma. Here, Costner is John James, a newly divorced father of two (and, yes, writer), who moves into a two-story South Carolina manse with his 14-year-old daughter Louisa (Ivana Baquero, of Pan’s Labyrinth) and seven-year-old son Sam (Gattlin Griffith). When Louisa starts to behave in a bizarre and increasingly violent manner, John must determine whether her acting out is linked to a giant, mysterious burial mound on the edge of his property. (Hint: it is.) A teacher at his kids’ school (Samantha Mathis) tries to offer some aid and comfort to the newly single John, and a local professor (Noah Taylor) eventually shows up to drop some verbiage regarding burial mound mythology and all that. In the end, though, it’s all about John, a shotgun, and fire, which seems a bit yawningly conventional for all the rather laborious set-up here.

There’s a pinch of The Others-style spookery here, but The New Daughter, based on a short story by John Connolly, ismostly a drama of domestic unsettledness. The directorial debut of [Rec] and Quarantine screenwriter Luis Berdejo, the movie benefits from Costner’s mooring presence; he instinctively knows that less is frequently more, and his slow-peddling — along with Berdejo and cinematographer Checco Varese’s decision to rely mostly on wide lenses — help give the proceedings an aura of naturalness and respectability. This isn’t merely an exercise in boo-scares, in other words. Still, for all its slow-building drama, the screenplay never really builds upon its surface-level dread in deeply interesting ways; the threat is pretty much what one figures it to be early on, and nudging adornments in parallelism (Sam gets an ant farm in his classroom) don’t exactly thrill.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, The New Daughter comes to DVD presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, with a Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track and optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles. Supplemental extras include a robust slate of deleted and extended scenes (mostly the former, and more than a dozen, running 22 minutes), an 11-minute behind-the-scenes featurette that includes interviews with Costner, source material author Connolly, the film’s producers and others, and the movie’s theatrical trailer. Its weightiest bonus feature, however, is a feature-length audio commentary track with Berdejo. Although his heavily accented English is at times an impediment to understanding, he comes across as a humble and interesting guy, and also shares good anecdotes and practical filmmaking tips (shooting down directly into a flame will result in smoke damage to a camera, so use a mirror, kids!). He also gives props to many crew members for their ideas, and talks up Jorge Rojas’ art, which is used in the movie. To purchase The New Daughter on DVD via Amazon, click here. C (Movie) B- (Disc)

What’s really left to say about Avatar that hasn’t already been said? After Titanic, self-proclaimed “king of the world” James Cameron did something precious few in-demand filmmakers even attempt to do — he basically went away to dream it all up again. That Cameron returned and basically smashed another industry-redefining grand slam out of the park is an amazing feat. That he even tried — that he wasn’t interested in merely collecting big paychecks for summer movie action tentpoles, which he could do annually until well past the age most everyone else would retire — is what’s most interesting to me.

Avatar broke all sorts of commercial records, and even evoked the interest of homeless people. It raked in a cool $750 million domestically, but an even more astounding $1.98 billion worldwide. Its technological innovations — from its proprietary camera system and face-mapping to its 3-D presentation — helped drive this hearty, collective ka-ching!, turning the movie into an event even for those that don’t typically turn out for films in theaters. So what does Avatar play like revisited on DVD, where it not too long ago saw its release?

Well, stripped of its 3-D “wow factor,” in which the expansive vistas of Pandora are understandably clipped by any home-viewing experience, some of the film’s stitching and seams undeniably reveal themselves. But this dual-layer DVD is filled nearly to its size limit, which means the 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer looks superb, with striking color and contrast. There are English language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound and 2.0 stereo audio tracks, as well as Spanish and French Dolby surround tracks, and optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles. The rub — no supplemental extras. The loaded special edition no doubt lurks out there on the horizon, so plan accordingly. If you’re a stickler for the most up-to-date stuff, you might want to hold off, or of course go with the Blu-ray version, if you don’t already have that; if you’re a less discerning fan who just wants a copy of the (new) biggest movie of all-time to revisit at your leisure, well, this release works fine. To purchase this DVD via Amazon, click here. A- (Movie) C (Disc)

I didn’t know spelunking was the new rage, but it seems to have cropped up in all sorts of movies relatively recently, from narrative features and festival shorts to documentaries. The latest is this hour-long NOVA title, Extreme Cave Diving, which sounds like it should come with a coupon for a free six-pack of Mountain Dew.

Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry posited that space was the final frontier, but we’ve actually barely scratched the surface of the mysteries of our own planet, especially as it pertains to the cavernous depths of our oceans. Following the charismatic Dr. Kenny Broad, director-producer James Barrat’s Extreme Cave Diving takes viewers on an interesting journey deep into blue holes — dark, heretofore largely unexplored underwater caves formed during the last ice age, when the sea level was nearly 400 feet below what it is today.

These areas are treacherous as much for what isn’t known about them as for what is, but Broad and his interdisciplinary team of climatologists, paleontologists and
anthropologists are excellent tour guides for this trip, providing nice shorthand contextualization for why such mysteries abound. And these caves aren’t as lonely as one would expect, either — magnificent creatures alien to human eyes scour the depths of the ocean, broadening the mysteries of life on Earth. Wes Skiles’ cinematography is stirring and evocative, capturing this “alternate universe” in a way that leaves one leaning forward in wonder.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Extreme Cave Diving comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 widescreen, with an English 2.0 stereo audio track that more than adequately handles the relatively straightforward and meager aural demands of this title. There are unfortunately no supplemental bonus features to speak of, save some promotional link information. To purchase the DVD from PBS, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or click here; to purchase the DVD via Amazon, meanwhile, click here. B (Movie) D (Disc)

Mixing the usual straight-to-video staples of lowbrow humor and side servings of T&A, Transylmania tries hard to position itself as a randy, zany vampire spoof for our vampire-crazed times, following a group of misfit co-eds studying overseas as they deal with the fallout of a
Transylvanian haunted castle. Most of the jokes never really take flight, however, and the performances aren’t strong and comedically engaging enough to merit the attention of anyone other than genre completists looking to while away some time between undergraduate core studies required classes.

Stoked
over a Romanian hottie he’s met online, sex-obsessed college
student Rusty (Oren Skoog) talks a group of his dimwitted friends — including weed-happy Pete (Patrick Cavanaugh), who’s torn between dating twin sisters Danni (Nicole
Garza) and Lia (Natalie Garza), one of whom is a square and one of whom more readily fits his party-hearty lifestyle — into joining him abroad for a semester of
beer, babes and bongs at what they think is a prestigious Transylvanian
university. What they discover instead is a creepy castle populated by a
torture-loving mad scientist, an over-cybersexed humpback, the nubile
spirit of a decomposed sorceress and a bevy of horny vampire chicks.

Transylmania was crafted by the same team behind Dorm Daze and Dorm Daze 2 — co-director/producers David and Scott Hillenbrand, and co-writers Patrick Casey and Joshua “Worm” Miller. Given their experience and rapport, it’s not surprising that the movie exhibits loads of energy, and projects the loose-limbed, casual vibe of a set with plenty of off-camera friends. Unfortunately, very little of that really translates to the screen. The performances are sub-par — hammy, self-indicating things, existing in little bubbles almost hermetically sealed from one another — and most of the action is awkwardly captured and framed. Some of the dialogue has a bit of snap, but not enough to save this wearying exercise in demonstrative demographic rib-poking.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Transylmania comes to DVD presented in 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language 5.1 Dolby digital audio track, and optional English subtitles. In addition to the normal trailer for the movie and a special “stoner” version of the same, there’s a healthy complement of supplemental material, at least quantitatively speaking. An audio commentary track with the Hillenbrands and costars Skoog, Jennifer Lyons and indefatigable self-promoter Musetta Vander kicks things off, and much congratulatory back-slapping ensues. Alternate openings and endings for the movie come with optional commentary, as do 16 minutes of deleted and extended scenes, the bulk of which expand upon some of the movie’s druggy cross-chatter, as well as the relationship backstory of Pete, Danni and Lia.

A six-and-a-half-minute gag reel highlights all sorts of problems with faulty props, as well as trouble with line readings from Cabin Fever‘s DeBello and a handful of local Romanian extras. (At least the latter have the excuse of English not being their first language.) Rounding things out is a lame, two-minute (yes, two-minute!) “behind-the-scenes featurette,” in which one of the actors actually asks if there have ever been other horror spoofs, or comedies. Well, those Scream and Scary Movie franchises come to mind. But maybe they’re too old, or outside the bounds of recollection for this flick’s target audience. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. D+ (Movie) B- (Disc)

We live in tawdry times, when news of Starlet X’s latest underwear malfunction makes its way to the splashy top “folds” of the Huffington Post or CNN’s web site. In that context, perhaps it’s no surprise, the DVD bow of Final 24, a Canadian-mounted project billed as a compelling hybrid drama/documentary series that unlocks “the hidden secrets, psychological flaws and events that resulted in the tragic deaths of global icons.” Slick, well-produced and more than a bit morbid, these DVDs — both individually and in aggregate — offer up a tabloid-style re-visitation of the last single day in the lives of its subjects, complemented by talking head interviews that range from dubious merit to surprisingly candid and revelatory.

One of the series’ debut entries focuses on Nicole Brown Simpson, the ex-wife of murdering hack golfer football legend O.J. Simpson, so right off the bat one has to wonder a bit about the whole “global icon” thing. Still, the rest of its debut slate hews a bit more closely to its stated focus, including peeks at the untimely deaths of Gianni Versace, Janis Joplin and Keith Moon, an eclectic trio to be sure. (Entries on Sid Vicious, John Belushi, Anna Nicole Smith and David Koresh loom on the horizon for June, meanwhile, and River Phoenix, Marvin Gaye, Hunter S. Thompson, John Kennedy and Tupac Shakur are scheduled to get the same treatment later this fall.)

While Danny Wallace’s narration — a constant on all the titles — too often
strikes the chords of doomsday melodrama, and it’s stupendously weird and unsettling to mix real pictures of the deceased with murky reenactments and still photographs of the same actor-participants, Final 24 is undeniably well put together, however exploitative, sleazy or yawningly rehashing one may find its areas of inquiry. Producers Katherine Buck and John Vandervelde have done a great job of corralling interviewees that extend beyond the range of the usual suspects.

The Nicole Brown Simpson title is a perfect illustration of this. Once you get past the cursory descriptive inanities (“She was a diamonds-and-pearls gal, but very spiritual”), Tanya Brown (i.e., the Brown sister that wasn’t in the media every day for two or three years in the wake of the Brown-Goldman murders) has some genuinely affecting revelations about her sister’s relationship with Simpson. So, too, does David LeBon, a close friend from Nicole’s teenage years, who recounts the then 30-year-old Simpson — and at the time married, with two kids and a third on the way — hitting on the then 18-year-old restaurant hostess, and renting his new mistress an apartment because he was jealous of Nicole’s (platonic) relationship with LeBon, a roommate. In other words, there’s stuff here that’s new or interesting, even if it’s not always flattering for the subjects (a high school teacher recounts Nicole’s stated career objective to “marry someone famous”). Occasionally, the chats tip into downright uncomfortable territory; Dr. Susan Forward, billed as Nicole’s therapist, talks generally about the “Swiss cheese conscience” of domestic batterers, but also delves rather specifically into Brown and Simpson’s history, which feels a bit unnerving. And yet it’s that level of real and personal detail that gives these titles their pop. One can’t quite completely look away… even if on some level they would like to.

Housed in regular plastic, white Amaray cases featuring cover photos of the reenactment participants, with a unifying stamp of “Final 24: A Dramatization” stuck in the lower righthand corner, all the Final 24 titles come on region-free discs, and run right around 48 minutes apiece. There are no accompanying bonus materials, so an audience member must bring to each title their own level of pre-gauged interest and historical contextualization. B+ (Movies) D+ (Discs)

Renowned celebrity photographer Michael Grecco makes a Michael Moore-esque leap behind the camera with Naked Ambition, a documentary feature that is billed as “an R-rated look at an X-rated industry,” all as told through the lens of the production of a same-titled coffee table book. A glossy, glancingly entertaining piece of masturbatory self-promotion, Grecco’s film purports to examine this amazing taboo subculture, and what draws people to it, but it mainly just serves as a small slice of “freak pie,” charting three days of choppy interactions with adult industry conventioneers.

Naked Ambition shares a love for name-dropping with at least one of its subjects, touting on its DVD cover an association with Jenna Jameson, Sunny Lane, Joanna Angel, Ron Jeremy and Nautica Thorn. In truth, adult industry icons like Jameson and Jeremy only pop up sparingly (the former isn’t even interviewed), since Grecco’s film is actually part of a side project (the book) that is and of itself another side project. The movie unfolds at the 2006 AVN awards in Las Vegas, where Grecco has been contracted to photograph the awards show winners; after a couple days pulling in starlets and customers for (relatively chaste) photo sessions, he sets up a sidebar backdrop to corral more reluctant participants, like Jameson and Hustler founder Larry Flynt.

So… apart from all the behind-the-scenes stuff relating to the photography sessions, there’s not really a cogent narrative here. Grecco touches some on ambition, but only really in the form of Lane, an eager newcomer to the business whose career is managed by her parents. (That’s a bit creepy.) Is there any through-the-looking-glass perspective from putative biz outsider Greg Fitzsimmons, the cohost of the AVN ceremony? No, and other interviewees who might provide some edifying outside context (a female psychologist, for instance) get relegated to this disc’s bonus materials.

Even when Grecco and his production assistant minions alight upon figures of interest (as with a Chinese aerospace engineer who’s built what he deems an “orgasm machine” for women, or the guy who makes hand-blown glass dildos), there’s no adequate mechanism for follow-up. Instead, there’s just plenty of indulgent voiceover narration. Grecco’s rhapsodic insights about pornography, identity and body comfort seem to alternate between the
fatuous, obvious and hyperbolic. When he shares a brief personal anecdote about how an antibiotic he was given as a child turned his teeth brown as an adolescent and young adult, thus stunting his interpersonal skills, it’s both a bit touching but also jarring, because so little of the rest of Naked Ambition is processed as an innately personal story. It’s not that the choice itself is a problem, but that there’s no real meat here — just the selling of the selling of sex. Emerging starlets Lane, Angel and Thorn provide the closest things to through-lines for the movie, but there isn’t a strong and forceful enough intellectual curiosity to squeeze any legitimate insights from either these or any of the other subjects.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Naked Ambition comes to DVD presented in a 4×3 letterboxed aspect ratio, with an English 2.0 stereo audio track that adequately if not dynamically handles the relatively meager and straightforward aural demands of the title. Optional Spanish subtitles are also included, alongside two different trailers for the movie, and eight excised scenes, running just over 18 minutes, which delve into male performance anxiety, women’s relationship to porn (both as consumers and purveyors) and, naturally, a lifelike silicone sex doll. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C (Movie) C (Disc)

Owing to their massive size and pre-technological precision, the Egyptian pyramids have long captured the fancy of subsequent generations of humankind. And among them, the strange half-human, half-lion image of the Great Sphinx has inspired countless
fantastic theories about its origins. The condensed documentary title Riddles of the Sphinx digs into that mystery a bit, for armchair historians who perhaps never matriculated beyond high school.

For more than 4,500 years, the Great Sphinx has cast its enigmatic gaze over Egypt’s Giza plateau. The biggest and oldest statue in a land of colossal ancient monuments, its scale is staggering: the mighty head towers as tall as the White House while its body is nearly the length of a football field. So how was it built, and who or what does it actually represent? Surprisingly, scribes of the period when it was constructed (during Egypt’s Old Kingdom) are relatively silent. Adding to the mystery, archaeologists found that its creators abruptly discarded their tools, and abandoned the structure when it was nearly complete.

Searching for clues, NOVA’s expert team of archaeologists carries out eye-opening experiments that reveal some of the exacting techniques and incredible labor that was invested in the carving of this gigantic sculpture. The team also unearths new discoveries about the people who built the Sphinx, and perhaps why they created such a haunting and stupendous image. Riddles of the Sphinx is basically one part scientific inquiry for every two parts speculative tease, but the somewhat saccharine blend is such that it doesn’t irritate too much, as long as one can happily indulge their own imagination.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Riddles of the Sphinx comes to DVD presented in 1.76:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language stereo audio track that more than adequately meets the meager demands of its aural construction. There are no notable bonus features, unless chapter stops get you all hot and bothered. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or simply click here. C+ (Movie) D (Disc)

Intricately depicted Egyptian funerary temple carvings tell the story of a magnificent trading vessel that embarked on a royal expedition to a
mysterious, treasure-laden land called Punt, near modern-day Sudan. Little other record of its success or failure exists, however. So was
this journey for incense and other valuable then-exotic commodities mere myth, or was it a reality?

Directed by Stéphane Bégoin, this hour-long NOVA special travels to the legendary temple, built some 3,500
years ago for the celebrated female pharaoh Queen Hapshepsut, who ruled Egypt around 1,500 B.C., in search of answers to this tantalizing archeological mystery. Did the ancient Egyptians, who built elaborate barges to sail down the Nile River, also have the expertise to embark on long sea voyages? Using the history of Hapshepsut’s temple and the corollary model of a reconstructed Khufu boat as guides, Building Pharaoh’s Ship, as the title might suggest, centers on a tantalizing project, spearheaded by Coastal Carolina University
professor Cheryl Ward, to reconstruct the mighty vessel shown in the mysterious carvings, and then launch it in to the Red Sea on a unique voyage of discovery.

Part historical examination, part myth-busting construction project, Building Pharaoh’s Ship is a nice mixture of History Channel staidness and Discovery Channel noodling. If not outright stars, Bégoin at least makes interesting parallel figures of engagement out of Ward’s team of archeologists and nativist boat builders, while talking heads like Boston University’s Kathryn Bard and others provide valuable context to their efforts. It’s interesting to see all the traditional methods and tools used in the modern-day construction of the boat, as well as how Egyptians threaded rope through planks to provide essential structural support but also some give-and-take. I won’t give away the ending, but this title provides a bit of ammunition for both camps — those that think modernity and technology naturally solve all of mankind’s problems, and those that believe there are valuable lessons to be learned in how past civilizations traveled, built, healed and lived.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Building Pharaoh’s Ship comes to DVD presented in 1.76:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language stereo audio track. Its static menu screen yields to seven segmented chapters, but apart from link information to the PBS web site, there is no additional supplemental material, which comes across as especially disappointing considering the hearty commingling of past history and present effort that this title represents. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or simply click here. B (Movie) D+ (Disc)

The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast and then, of course, Aladdin and The Lion King are the four films most generally credited with kick-starting the animation revolution of the end of the 20th century, and opening audiences’ minds to the possibilities of animated films being more than just lip-service “family entertainment,” but instead robust, breathtaking and fully sketched tales full of vim and verve that capture and charm adults just as easily as children.

I’ll always have a soft spot for some of the even earlier animated films, though, chief amongst them The Great Mouse Detective, a winning adventure that grafts the rapscallion spirit of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s most famous creation
into a richly animated, Sherlock Holmsian tale set in Victorian-era
London’s underground mouse kingdom. In an age before DVDs, my parents either bought the over-priced VHS tape or ripped it off HBO during one of those free preview months we occasionally took advantage of, ostensibly for the enjoyment of my younger sibling. I’m man enough to now admit it, however — I believe I fired it up a time or two on a sick day home from school, or “submitted” to it with my sister.

And why not? Inspired by the adventures of Doyle’s brilliant detective Sherlock Holmes, and based on Eve Titus’ engaging book Basil of Baker Street, The Great Mouse Detective is a smartly sketched blend of comedy, action, adolescent drama and mystery which marks the directing debut of now legendary filmmakers Ron Clements and
John Musker, important creative forces behind such Disney animated blockbusters as The
Princess and the Frog, as well as the aforementioned The
Little Mermaid and Aladdin.

The plot provides youngsters with both a sympathetic surrogate and a hiss-worthy villain, not to mention some properly modulated intrigue. When talented toymaker Hiram Flaversham is mousenapped, his winsome daughter Olivia turns to the most famous mouse detective of them all, Basil of Baker Street (above right). Buoyed by imaginative gadgets and disguises, and accompanied by his assistant and confidante, Dr. David Q. Dawson, Basil uncovers a villainous plot spearheaded by a slimy, contemptible sewer rat, Dr. Ratigan, to replace Moustoria, Queen of the Mice, with a look-alike robot that will leave him free to take control of the entire rodent population of London. As Basil sniffs out one clue after another with unmatched ingenuity, he leads little Olivia closer and closer to a reunion with her beloved father.

The animation, naturally, doesn’t provide the same depth-of-field wow factor to which we are now accustomed, but what drew me in and always impressed me with the movie as a kid was its characters, and they hold up remarkably. There’s warmth and vibrancy to the vocal performances, and though there’s a trio of musical numbers, they don’t overwhelm the production, which is a sometimes under-addressed minority report complaint of later Disney animated films, which got locked into a rigidity of formula that didn’t always best serve the story. Overall, there’s plenty to delight kids and adults alike in this charmingly
downsized slice of Victorian adventure and suspense. One may think it tough, to wind back the technological clock so after kids have experienced Toy Story and Shrek and Monsters Vs. Aliens. But if you have youngsters, give it a try — I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case in turn stored in a cardboard slipcover, this “Mystery in the Mist” special edition DVD release of The Great Mouse Detective tweaks its original 1.66:1 aspect ratio; instead, both full screen and 1.78:1 widescreen versions are available here, along with a Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio tracks in English, French and Spanish, as well as optional English SDH, French and Spanish subtitles. Viewers can test their own powers of deduction and go behind the scenes
of the movie with a nice variety of bonus features that include a solid making-of featurette that also roots the material in the real-life history of Scotland Yard, a sing-along version “The World’s Greatest
Criminal Mind,” and an animated look at the history of detective work,
complete with a crime-solving puzzle for the entire family. So if you’re interested in the history of where the word sleuth comes from, you’ll have your answer. There’s also a clutch of promotional trailers for programming featuring the Sprouse twins, as well as other Disney titles. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. A- (Movie) B+ (Disc)

Being John Malkovich really opened the door for all sorts of meta-concepts, comedic and otherwise, but among its most unlikely spawn would have to be Bollywood Hero, a sprawling, dance-infused dramedy in which Chris Kattan, playing himself as fed up with being a Hollywood has-been and bit player, trips to India in order to land a romantic lead role. Perhaps even more unlikely is just how robustly this fanciful project connects, with crisp production value, humorous writing and engaging performances all around.

Bollywood Hero first unfolded on the small screen on IFC, as part of a three-part comedy event — shorter than a miniseries, but longer than your typical movie. It retains that structure here, its trio of 56-minute episodes each playable separately, and containing brief introductory recaps. The story opens in Los Angeles, with Kattan unhappily locked into a starring role on a science-fiction TV show. His agent is unable to provide any traction with respect to leading man roles, but Kattan fortuitously stumbles across Monty (Ali Fazal), a second-generation Indian filmmaker who happens to have an opening in his projected Bollywood epic Peculiar Dancing Boy, which he bills as “a serious critique of the caste system as told through the medium of dance.”

Monty pitches Kattan, who eventually comes around to the idea. Soon he’s on a plane, and then in India, but before production can even begin Kattan causes a national uproar by planting a very public kiss on his leading lady, Lalima (Neha Dhupia), a bankable starlet around whom the entire production is built. While Kattan is literally burned in effigy in the streets (!), Monty’s headstrong producer sister Priya (Pooja Kumar) tries to wheel and deal, while Monty also puts up his late father’s expansive studio as collateral to bring together the necessary final financing. With his own career and sanity hanging in the balance, not to mention Monty and Priya’s livelihoods too, Kattan throws himself into learning (at least some of) a nation’s customs and rituals, cinematically if nothing else. Adding flavor to the proceedings are Julian Sands as Reg Hunt, an intellectual, Jeremy Irons-type British costar of Kattan, plus Maya Rudolph, Jennifer Coolidge (a former real-life girlfriend of Kattan’s), Andy Samberg, Keanu Reeves and David Alan Grier, all playing themselves in cameos.

Benjamin Brand’s script offers up a nice balancing act, neither trading in bland generalities nor lacquering on the specificity so grandly that it conflates Kattan’s problems with capital-I important issues. It takes the piss out of Kattan, in other words (there’s some good-natured fun had at the expense of Corky Romano), but lightly and lovingly so, basically allowing Kattan to play-act what one presumes is an only slightly canted and elevated version of his own anxieties and frustrations as a performer.

Director Bill Bennett, meanwhile, gives the movie real heart and soul, as well as a unifying production design. The film isn’t expansive or overly doting in its ritualistic homage to Bollywood cinema; there’s definitely a cant and concession made for Western audiences, from the original “in” of the narrative hook to the tone of the humor. But I’ll say this — Bollywood Hero is gorgeously shot, and sincere and tonally consistent throughout. It isn’t cheap with its jokes, and it doesn’t careen wildly from one set piece to another. There’s a trajectory for Kattan, and the supporting characters as well. And through it all, Kattan delivers an engaging and surprisingly emotionally resonant performance. His timbre of his voice — at times somewhat tremulous — works against his stated desire to be taken seriously, but that’s part of the joke, too, and the third act path the film carves, all part of Kattan’s unlikely redemption.

Housed in a white, regular plastic Amaray case, Bollywood Hero comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track and optional English subtitles. Apart from its aforementioned chapter selection, the only supplemental bonus feature comes by way of eight minutes of additional excised material, including an extra dance scene and a mock condom commercial starring Kattan. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B (Movie) C- (Disc)

The violations and indignities that the written word suffers in Hollywood are many and sundry, but screenwriters get their say in Tales from the Script, a highly interesting documentary built around wide-ranging conversations with almost four dozen big screen storytellers, from John Carpenter and Frank Darabont to Bruce Joel Rubin and William Goldman. Eschewing voiceover narration or some artificially manufactured chronological narrative structure, the movie instead more or less embraces chaos theory that conventional mainstream narrative storytelling rejects, thematically grouping its anecdotal insights in ultra-loose fashion with title cards.

Yes, Tales from the Script is exclusively a talking-head affair, which lends it the feel of a cultured curio — a selling point, to be sure, for cineastes, but something of a hurdle for general audiences. (There’s also a hefty companion book to the film, underscoring a certain academic worth.) A lot of the observations herein are pointed but somewhat generic. Steven de Souza (above) amusingly and perceptively notes that there are people in the room during a story meeting who basically make their day, work-wise, by offering comment on your script, so such an environment encourages even dumb, from-the-hip remarks over more thoughtful silence.

Some stories, however, are pure, unadulterated gold, like Guinevere Turner hilariously recounting her work experience with director Uwe Boll on BloodRayne, Darabont talking about being offered a $30 million budget for shooting The Mist with a different ending, and Rubin ruefully recalling a Disney executive taking him to lunch and surreptitiously picking his brain for ideas for Armageddon by just letting Rubin talk about his work on Deep Impact. Director Peter Hanson and co-producer/co-writer Paul Robert Herman are also smart enough to include in the mix a number of writers laboring chiefly in the straight-to-video realm, which helps keep Tales from the Script grounded in reality. Too much focus on only pie-in-the-sky top-shelf Hollywood product would make the risk-reward somehow seem more palatable, or like less of a long-shot. While it could use a bit more insights from independent writer-director-producers, as is the movie comes across as an accurate, unblinking and certainly engaging look at the balancing act between art and commerce that is screenwriting, and moviemaking in general.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Tales from the Script comes to DVD presented in anamorphic widescreen, with an English language stereo audio mix. Bonus features are ample, kick-started by 46 minutes of additional interview footage that is, unsurprisingly, entertaining as all get-out. Billy Ray (Shattered Glass, Breach) shares his own metaphor of Hollywood’s fickle embrace, relating an anecdote about Christmas gifts spread out over a couple years. Ron Shelton compares a script to sheet music, but says that it unfortunately only gets played once; he then goes on to talk about Bull Durham being written in a single draft, with his film’s opening two-page monologue dictated into a microcassette recorder while driving the back roads of North Carolina. Other writers, too, weigh in on the delicate balance between money, hack-itude and narrative ownership. The aforementioned Rubin asserts that a writer is always the birth parent to a film, while a director is an interpreter, akin to a conductor. Shooter screenwriter Jonathan Lemkin, meanwhile, says he consciously alternates between being “an artist and a whore, because if I was just the former I’d be broke and if I was just the latter I’d be sad.”

In addition to a clutch of preview trailers for more First Run Features home video releases, other supplemental features include 12 minutes of peer genuflection at the altar of William Goldman (Darabont compares him to the funny-without-knowing-it uncle who has all the best stories), and nine minutes of advice for beginning screenwriters, most of which underscores the occupational frequency of rejection, and the necessary psychological fortitude one must have to continually endure it. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B (Movie) A (Disc)

I first got to know Muse in tangential fashion, through a clutch of startlingly fresh radio tunes that sounded quite different than the rest of their FM modern rock brethren. Owing to my laziness and idiocy, it was a while before I was able to piece together the fact that what I was hearing was in fact the work of the same band, but once I did it certainly made sense — their ability to swing effortlessly between ethereal noodling, emotive prog-rock and somewhat more traditional brawn (think “Knights of Cydonia”) infused their work. I first caught them live as the opening act during U2’s stadium tour last fall in Washington, D.C., and I wasn’t disappointed. Some of their influences — Queen, Manic Street Preachers, Blur — are readily apparent, but Muse makes music that is undeniably all their own.



As its title would suggest, the new straight-to-DVD doc Muse: Under Review provides an overview of the band’s entire career, mixing rare performance and interview footage of the group with talking head contributions from some of their closest colleagues, as well as those who have witnessed and written about their journey. This list includes band engineer Ric Peet, video director Mat Kirby, biographerand NME writer Mark Beaumont, and, most notably, former manager Safta Jaffrey and legendary producer John Leckie, whose insights are especially invaluable.

Three teenage pals from the tiny English seaside town of Teignmouth, Muse is comprised of guitarist-frontman Matthew Bellamy (above center), bassist ChrisWolstenholme (left) and drummer Dominic Howard (right). Bellamy is painted as the driving creative force behind the band, shaping the epic pomposity of their sound, in which huge guitar riffs and otherwise occasionally bombastic production meet shimmery instrumentation and intersect at odd angles with Bellamy’s fragile falsetto. There’s not much in the way of thematic heavy-lifting, however, so those wanting to delve into Muse’s preoccupations with paranoia, space exploration and transcendence will be left mostly guessing.

If one can forgive this lack of self-analysis and firsthand narration (the old interview tidbits with the band are few and far between), the DVD is actually a fairly solid watch, both for longtime devotees and more casual inductees to the band’s mushrooming fan base. At times Muse: Under Review dips rather stupidly into extended song clips from tangential mock-influences (Captain Beefheart, Tom Waits) to make up for this hole at its core, but a nice selection of old concert and showcase footage buoys the spotlighted arc of Muse’s career, for which Jaffrey and Leckie provide the spine. Everything is touched upon, from the musical roots of Bellamy’s father and an important 1998 showcase for Rick Rubin and Columbia Records to the production of debut album Showbiz and reasons for the four-year Stateside delay of sophomore follow-up Origin of Symmetry. Some good anecdotes are revealed, too, like Bellamy highjacking a real church organ for “Megalomania.” Overall: interesting stuff.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case in turn stored in a complementary cardboard slipcover, Muse: Under Review comes to DVD presented in a letterboxed 4:3 aspect ratio, with a 2.0 stereo audio track. Its bonus features consist of text biographies for its talking head interviewees and a 10-minute look at the group’s focus on staging and accompanying visual efforts (mainly the music video for “Hysteria,” actually), buoyed by interview material with director Kirby. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B+ (Movie) C+ (Disc)

Woody Harrelson is probably never going to be a star whose depths of deceptive talent are fully and widely recognized. This is in large part because he’s so affable that he’s most frequently cast in comedies (e.g., Semi-Pro), but also because his contrarian streak will likely prevent him from re-ascending to the leading man career heights he could have conceivably scaled in the wake of his lauded turn in The People Vs. Larry Flynt. He got some awards circuit attention (and heck, even an Oscar nomination) for the under-received coming-home drama The Messenger, but Harrelson acolytes know his other 2009 work, in Defendor and Zombieland, are, to paraphrase Beck, where it’s really at.

In Defendor, Harrelson plays introverted construction worker Arthur Poppington, who doesn’t need superpowers or fancy toys to fight crime. Armed only with a childlike sense of wonder and a quirky arsenal of cheap, homemade gadgets — like jars of wasps, bags of marbles and an old billyclub he inherited from his grandfather — at night Arthur becomes Defendor, a black-clad vigilante with a duct-taped costume. Obsessed with finding the city’s most fearsome crime boss, Arthur finds an unexpected partner when he rescues and falls for a local junkie prostitute, Katerina Debrofkowitz (Kat Dennings), herself on the run from a shit-heel undercover cop, Chuck Dooney (Elias Koteas). Action and a pinch of angst ensues, with Harrelson crafting a character that is by turns goofy and sympathetic.

Defendor marks the directorial debut of actor Peter Stebbings, who also wrote the screenplay, and while its area of inquiry — a guy playing superhero — would seem to be a rather cheap and potentially empty grab at commercial significance, Stebbings infuses his work with a depth of feeling and honesty rare for comedies, and even indie film in general. Defendor isn’t ever really laugh-out-loud funny, at least not consistently; it’s more of a slow-burn thing, which in a way matches the low-fi vibe that the film’s production design helps establish. (Arthur records all his exploits on VHS, with a camera strapped to his helmet.) There’s a split-structure aspect as well, with Sandra Oh popping up as a therapist questioning Arthur in the wake of his apparent arrest. This gives the movie something of a stuttering feel, since tonally you’re jerked back and forth between Arthur’s vigilante quest and burgeoning relationship with Katerina, and this mystery of how and why he’s been nabbed.

Stebbings also never resolves how to integrate Arthur into the existing power structure (i.e., the police) within the city. Chuck becomes an immediate enemy, for both reasons related to Katerina as well as other factors. The precinct captain, or whomever, is also given a few scenes with Arthur, and it’s clear that he regards him as for the most part not that dangerous. But it’s not quite fully exploited, either for comedic or dramatic effect. Still, Harrelson’s performance locates real pathos, without ever simplifying Arthur into a complete boob. Stebbings, too, crafts a small, to-scale world of action and consequence; his movie feels nicely pieced together. The only big blow to its hold, really, is composer John Rowley’s terrifically unimaginative and on-the-nose score, which apes square-jawed, into-the-breach heroism without adding any ironic undercurrent to it, and sounds tinny to boot.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Defendor comes to DVD presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, with English, Spanish, Portuguese and Thai language tracks in Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound. Optional English SDH, Spanish, Chinese, Korean, Portuguese and Thai subtitles are also included. An audio commentary track with Stebbings, Dennings, Harrelson and producer Nicholas Tabarrok (Left Behind) kicks off the robust slate of supplemental material that helps additionally elevate this title.

There are also deleted scenes, as well as five robust making-of featurettes which run around 10 minutes apiece, and cover the entire creative process, from scripting through pre-production, casting and shooting. Stebbings talks about being wowed by Harrelson (and his prominent jawline) in No Country for Old Men, and receiving a hemp sweater as a gift from his star, at the wrap of production. Two-and-a-half minutes of bloopers wrap things up, with Koteas getting his jacket stuck in a car door and mock-swatting wasps that will be added later, via CGI; Harrelson also goes method, using a real hacksaw on his cast but eventually breaking character when Stebbings drags his feet in calling “cut.” To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B (Movie) A (Disc)

The Broken Lizard guys — Jay Chandrasekhar, Kevin Heffernan, Steve Lemme, Paul Soter and Erik Stolhanske — have made a career out of doing “stupid” big, knowing and affable, as in Super Troopers and Beerfest. While not huge breakout stars by any means, they’ve built up a reputation as “fratire” trailblazers, cinematic forerunners for Tucker Max. Their best effort, however, was probably the island-set murder mystery send-up Club Dread, and not merely because Brittany Daniel runs around in a bikini for most of the film, and they got the beautiful Jordan Ladd to go topless. No, that flick had a rooted story around which the jokes were all built. Their latest effort has a lot of what makes their movies of a piece (left-field humor like coleslaw down the pants and a swordfish being punched unconscious), but The Slammin’ Salmon, despite its vaguely sexual title, is a decent comedic premise only fitfully delivered upon.

Set in Miami, the movie centers around the wait staff at a pricey restaurant owned by “Slammin’ Cleon Salmon” (Michael Clarke Duncan), a former heavyweight boxing champion with a penchant for the gregarious mangling of words and the bellowing of “Whatever, motherfucker!” when someone deigns to correct him (which isn’t very often). Having racked up a $20,000 gambling debt to a group of thugs after placing bets on and taking part in catch-and-release Japanese albino hunting (yes, seriously), cash-poor Cleon challenges issues a contest ultimatum to his oddball staff via bumbling, nice-guy manager Rich (Heffernan): to turn over $20,000 sales in a single night, with the top-selling server winning a huge prize and the last-place
server getting a broken-rib sandwich. Preening Guy (Stolhanske), borderline multiple personality screwball “Nuts” (Chandrasekhar), med student Tara (Cobie Smulders), new guy Donnie (Soter), would-be ballerina Mia (April Bowlby) and disgraced actor Connor (Lemme), returning from an abortive television gig, have at it. Spurred on by greed and panic, the staff resorts to backstabbing, bribery and all sorts of indecent proposals in wheels-spinning attempts to “up-sell” patrons.

There’s enough basic structure in place for The Slammin’ Salmon to be amusing, but too large a portion of its jokes and banter feel like first-draft placeholder material, and its consistently scattershot staging and execution too often undercuts whatever comedic momentum it starts to accrue. It’s tough to really pull off comedies confined to a single space and time — the choreography has to be crackerjack, and mindful of how one screw-up or interruption or delay impacts everything around it (think Noises Off, when properly staged), which just isn’t the case here. The Broken Lizard guys go mostly big, obviously, but several of these story strands of wild escalation (Rich’s accidental ingestion of a customer’s diamond engagement ring, for instance, after gluttonously attacking a dessert momentarily left in the “send-back”
area) get left behind, or back-burned in ways that make them a lot less amusing when they return to them. The madcap tone and energy isn’t slowly and believably ratcheted up, in other words. Still, the Broken Lizard guys call in enough favors to fill out supporting roles with recognizable faces, as Will Forte, Olivia Munn, Vivica A. Fox, Morgan Fairchild, Lance Henriksen, Sendahil Ramamurthy and Jim Gaffigan all appear in bit parts.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case in turn stored in a complementary cardboard slipcover, The Slammin’ Salmon comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, with an English language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track and optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles. Supplemental features are anchored by two separate audio commentary tracks with the Broken Lizard gang; one features Chandrasekhar, Stolhanske and Soter, the other features Heffernan and Lemme. Both unexpectedly suffer a bit from lapses in engagement, but the latter track is the livelier affair, with anecdotes about farting contests between key grips, and Heffernan pointing out a couple bits in the movie’s finale that are copped from Rocky III, from the LeRoy Neiman-inspired painting done by his brother, an artist, to his commissioned choice for a closing credits song, Earth Cock’s “Cry of the Cougar,” that is a straight-up rip-off of Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger.” The only other bonus tidbit is a seven-minute featurette, “Hellish Kitchens: Art Imitates Restaurant Life,” that features the Broken Lizard gang reminiscing about old food service employment, shared and otherwise, all while apparently riding to set together in a noisy van. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C (Movie) C (Disc)

As a kid, sometime between elementary school and the wonder years of middle school, I went through a rather typical fascination with all sorts of things occult, mysterious and unexplained — reflective, in my opinion, of a desire to explore the world at large. The very idea of human uncertainty, of the outer limits of testable knowledge, was in and of itself a mesmerizing notion, and in so many ways much more interesting than plain old school lessons. This extracurricular interest started with aliens, the Bermuda Triangle and UFOs, extended onto the Loch Ness Monster and the case of Jack the Ripper, as I recall, and of course made its way to Bigfoot and his wintry cousin, the Abominable Snowman. (When I couldn’t find answers, or even re-framed questions to the ideas I had kicking around in my own mind, this period, pre-Internet, also introduced the limitations of books, something else that blew my mind.)

This is all to say that settling down with a copy of a low-budget 2004 film entitled Bigfoot, complete with exploi-tastic extreme close-up cover art, felt in ways both good and substantial like a field trip back in time. So I wasn’t necessarily expecting a movie that relocated the Bigfoot legend from the environs of the Pacific Northwest to… marshy Ohio? Yes, indeed. The DVD cover boasts a quote from the Cleveland Free Times deeming the flick “reminiscent of Jaws,” which is certainly a stretch. But there’s no denying that writer-director-actor Bob Gray’s film is nowhere near as balls-to-the-wall schlocky as one might reasonably suspect (and indeed desire), given the subject matter. Eschewing CGI in favor of zippered-suit marauding and other practical effects, Bigfoot spins a wan tale of homecoming and familial reconciliation around its beasty hunting, and in doing so tangentially evokes the spirits of early creature features and drive-in movies of yesteryear.

With his 9-year-old daughter Charlie (Brooke Beckwith) in tow, single dad Jack Sullivan (Todd Cox) moves back to his recently deceased father’s home in Mentor Headlands, in the marshlands of Northeastern Ohio. There, he reunites with his old friend Bob Perkins (Gray), now sheriff, where the two puzzle over a recent spate of animal mutilations. They investigate, and team up with local park ranger Sandy Parker (Liza Foster). Before long, they’re on the trail of Bigfoot (Shawn Kipp), don’tcha know. Copious shots of startled hunters ensue.

Any fair judgment rendered unto Bigfoot must take into account its limited production means. The acting is amateurish and what most forthrightly dooms it, and the execution only so-so throughout, but Gray’s script at least attempts to avoid a purely adrenalized, rib-poking take on its titular star, building the production around a quaint regionalism that is somewhat charming. With perhaps a bit more time and a few more polished actors, his modest efforts would have achieved greater value.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Bigfoot comes to DVD on a region-free disc, as a full-screen presentation. Multi-hyphenate Gray provides an audio commentary track that dispenses plenty of DIY advice, while also giving props to the local kids who serve as background extras. There’s also a three-and-a-half-minute forced-scrollable photo gallery, the trailer for Bigfoot and three other Troma DVD titles, and a 10-minute making-of featurette with a bit of behind-the-scenes footage, as well as interview material with cryptozoologist Don Keating. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C- (Movie) C+ (Disc)

The title is somewhat misleading, since there are plenty of things that Charles Darwin probably never knew about, from Twitter, Jennifer Aniston and the rather baffling commercial success of the Alvin and the Chipmunks films to nuclear proliferation, the stunning hotness of French
TV anchor Melissa Theuriau and the cottage industry of response he would eventually provide to all those ichthus fish car magnets. Still, the new documentary What Darwin Never Knew actually sheds some fascinating light on one of history’s most intriguing and controversial scientists.

On the 150th anniversary of the publication of On the Origin of Species, the award-winning NOVA series revisits Darwin’s (in)famous work, and fills in some of the blanks within it. As the DVD’s back cover text points out, Earth teems with a staggering variety of animals — including 9,000 kinds of birds, 28,000 types of fish, and more than 350,000 species of beetles alone. The source of life’s seemingly endless forms was a profound mystery until Darwin’s revolutionary idea of natural selection, which he showed could help explain the gradual development of life on earth. But Darwin’s radical insights raised as many questions as they answered, both about humankind’s relationship to evolution (heresy to most organized religions) as well as what about what factors actually drive evolution and turn one species into another.

Stunning breakthroughs in a brand new science are linking the enigma of origins to another of nature’s great mysteries, the development of an embryo, and it’s at this interstice which What Darwin Never Knew exists, using cutting-edge testing to link past and present. To explore this exciting new idea, NOVA takes viewers on a journey from the Galapagos Islands to the Arctic, and from the Cambrian explosion of animal forms half a billion years ago to the research labs of today, where scientists are beginning to crack some of nature’s biggest secrets at a genetic level. It’s all quite fascinating stuff, and nicely pitched at a level which both science nerds and the average layperson can almost equally enjoy.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, What Darwin Never Knew comes to home video in both Blu-ray and DVD, the latter presented in 1.78:1 widescreen, with an English language stereo track that more than adequately handles the meager aural demands of this title. There are unfortunately no supplemental bonus features, save chapter stops. To order a copy of What Darwin Never Knew directly from the manufacturer, call (800) PLAY-PBS or
click here; to purchase the DVD via Amazon, meanwhile, click here. B (Movie) D (Disc)

It’s interesting and more than a bit telling that the first paragraph of the accompanying press notes for Bad
Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans tout the fact that the movie “allows… for Nicolas Cage‘s performance to be truly memorable.” It’s an intriguing choice of words, one that seemingly yields, with a smirk and knowing nod, to interpretations of the film as a piece of zonked-out performance art.

Cage plays Terence McDonagh, a rogue New Orleans detective who’s as devoted to his job as he is at
scoring illicit drugs. A brief opening bit showcases McDonagh as a crusading good-guy cop. But in the
aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and a back injury suffered during a rescue mission, he becomes a high-functioning addict who
swings from prescription meds to harder drugs. Playing fast and loose with the law, McDonagh wields both his badge as often as his gun in order to get his way, using his finely honed intuitiveness to suss out scenarios in which he can pinch both weekend partiers and low-level junkies alike. Further complicating McDonagh’s
tumultuous life are his prostitute girlfriend, Frankie (Eva
Mendes), a troublesome gambling habit, and a father in recovery with a new, alcoholic wife. When crime boss Big Fate (rapper-actor Xzibit) looks like he’s going to weasel off the hook in the brutal murder of an immigrant family, McDonagh at first tries to flip members of his crew, then seemingly throws caution to the wind and switches sides, aligning himself with Big Fate in order to pay down debts and secure personal safety.

Yes, Bad
Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans is of a certain subgenre which might affectionately be called “batshit crazy cinema.” It’s a cop procedural in the very broadest sense, but instead of the typical 90-10-percent plot/color breakdown, it trends almost exactly in the opposite direction; even its very title seems flippant, a thumb in the eye of character-study convention. Cage’s devilish partner in this cinematic high-wire act, director Werner Herzog, studs his film with recognizable supporting players — Val Kilmer as Cage’s partner, Shawn Hatosy as a fellow cop, Brad Dourif as his bookie, Fairuza Balk as a state trooper fling, Jennifer Coolidge as his father’s drunken new squeeze, and Michael Shannon as an evidence room gatekeeper — but the narrative trappings of William Finkelstein’s script seems of little consequence to both parties.

In a way, this feeds the movie’s casual… well, brilliance may be too hefty a term, but effective misdirection, let’s say. Herzog truly cares not what the audience feels about McDonagh’s amorality, as evidenced by the relative lack of a superseding authority in the movie. There are a few mild professional consequences for McDonagh, but most of the tightening noose around his neck is entirely of his own creation. So in some not insignificant ways, audience identification with him starts to flicker, or wane. And yet this tack somewhat surprisingly works, both on a base entertainment level (as when McDonagh whips out his lucky crack pipe, or instructs a gangbanger to fire again into a bullet-riddled corpse, “because his soul is still dancing”) and as laid track toward a surprisingly definitive end point. Port of Call New Orleans, which has nothing to do with Abel Ferrera and Harvey Keitel’s Bad Lieutenant, save the shared moniker and bad behavior, is a woozy, rope-a-dope character study. It’s not for all tastes, certainly, but it’s further proof that square-jawed altruism can flow from complicated and often contrasting motivations.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans comes to DVD presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, with English language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound and 2.0 stereo audio tracks, as well as optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles, the former of which are actually a bit spotty in their translation. Bonus features consist of both regular and red-band versions of the movie’s trailer, five other DVD previews, and a gallery of 96 set photographs taken by Lena Herzog, the filmmaker’s (third) wife. The chief supplemental extra, however, is a 31-minute making-of featurette, in which Herzog explains why he likes to operate his own sound-sync clapper, and engages in an apparent ritual in which a gaffer marks him with yellow tape on the first day of shooting. While there are good anecdotal details and tidbits scattered throughout — including on the dead alligator used as roadkill in a sequence, and how 2,400 jars of decaffeinated coffee were utilized to simulate muddy water for the flooded prison scene that opens the film, after it was determined that the caffeine of regular coffee would be too readily absorbed through the skin — thankfully Herzog is all over this material, in all his bountiful weirdness. That means plenty of his impish expounding on moviemaking in general as well as the “bliss of evil” present in this film, and how he doesn’t really care about McDonagh’s behavior, since it solves cases. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. B- (Movie) B+ (Disc)